Penelope (8 page)

One of Penelope’s more unfortunate qualities was her tendency to view social occasions, such as parties, as cataclysmic events that would shape her destiny. She was often disappointed. Disappointment, however, did not lead to greater insight. Penelope still applied her eyeliner with a certain fatalism even before the most banal of activities, such as grocery shopping.

After Lan disappeared into her room, presumably to play with the “hairless” cat, Penelope could barely concentrate. She tried to read an article about Bach’s father’s organ and gave up. The prospect of the night’s activities was too exciting. What if she met someone really handsome? What if this person had chin-length blond hair? What if she charmed this person not just with wit but also good looks? What types of things would she say during that process?

Penelope alternately tried on clothes and thought increasingly fantastic thoughts for the next three hours. She missed dinner, dithering. By the time Ted finally knocked on her door, she had already changed her nail polish twice.

“Hey, Penelope,” said Ted, hanging awkwardly near the doorway. “Wow.”

“What do you mean, wow?” said Penelope.

“I was just wondering if you wanted to go downstairs and pregame in Nikil’s room.” Nikil had been having “pregames” since the beginning of school, but Penelope had never been invited. Sometimes she thought she might just go, uninvited, as people were wont to do in movies about college, but she never did.

“Aren’t we going to the party?” asked Penelope.

“Well, we are, but that doesn’t start for a while. There are a couple of things going on tonight actually, but they all start later.”

“OK,” said Penelope. “Let’s go. This is exciting.”

Penelope and Ted walked down the stairs.

“I don’t think this pregame will be exciting,” said Ted.

“Why not?” asked Penelope.

“First, I have been to pregames at Nikil’s before, and I know what they are like. And second, this is always Jason’s favorite part of the evening. He only likes pregaming. He always falls asleep at actual parties,” said Ted, and opened up Nikil’s door.

Nikil and Glasses were sitting on their futon, typing on laptops. Jason, very red in the face, was sitting on the floor nursing a beer. Aside from a rather truculently displayed vodka bottle on the coffee table and two girls texting furiously next to it, it was exactly the same scene as the first night of school.

“I thought pregames were different from this,” said Penelope in an undertone to Ted, who was making a beeline for the vodka bottle. “I thought there was going to be beer pong.”

“You thought wrong. Drink this,” said Ted.

“What is it?”

“Straight vodka,” said Ted.

“Ted, I can’t drink straight vodka,” said Penelope.

“Penelope. You must. Down in one.”

“Maybe I will sip mine. I think that is what they do in Russia.”

“Hey, Ted,” said Glasses, finally looking up from his computer screen. Nikil was still typing. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” said Penelope, who took a dainty sip of her vodka while holding her nose.

No one said anything after that. Eventually, one of the girls got up and sat on Glasses’s lap. Glasses looked enormously pleased. The girl had the largest breasts Penelope had ever seen. She was also very bug-eyed. Penelope wondered whether she had some kind of gland issue.

“Hi! I’m Catherine, nice to meet you,” said the girl. She held out her hand and Penelope shook it. “Do you live here?”

“Oh, yes,” said Penelope.

“Awesome,” said the girl. “I live in Grays, but I hang out here
all the time. It’s basically like I live here.” Then she oriented her body completely in the direction of Ted.

“Are you going to the thing in Currier tonight?” she asked him. Ted took another gulp of his vodka and grimaced.

“I think so,” said Ted.

“Everyone has been saying it sucks and that we should go to Eliot.” Eliot was another dorm for upperclassmen. Penelope had heard it was one of the nicer ones.

“Why does everyone say it sucks?” asked Ted.

“Just like nobody is there. And they haven’t set up the luge thing yet. I dunno. I think we should go to Eliot.”

“I mean, whatever you guys want to do. I think we should go to the Ten-Man, but I am flexible,” said Ted.

Catherine then turned toward Glasses. She kissed him on the forehead.

“What do you want to do?” she asked Glasses, smoothing his hair with the flat of her palm.

“I don’t know,” said Glasses. He looked stunned.

“Well, fine, let’s go to Currier. But it’s gonna suck,” said Catherine. Glasses’s awkwardness in the face of such hairstyling did not seem to faze her. Penelope was mentally congratulating Catherine on the inner resilience it must take to pursue such an utterly unromantic individual when it occurred to her that Glasses was not her real object. Catherine was staring at Ted with an intensely bug-like expression.

“Well, if we are going to go to Currier, we might as well take a shot before we go,” said Catherine to Ted. “Emmeline, come here!” said Catherine to her friend. Emmeline—the picture of plump, plain docility—waddled over.

Catherine set up several paper cups and poured vodka into them. Nikil stopped typing on his computer, and the whole of the party assembled somberly around the coffee table.

“OK, guys, bottoms up,” said Catherine. “One, two, three …”

“You know? I already have vodka, in my cup here, that I am sipping, so I think I am fine,” said Penelope.

“Oh, come on, Penelope,” said Ted.

“Yeah, come on, Penelope,” said Catherine. “Take a shot.”

“Well, OK,” said Penelope.

“We’ll all do it together,” said Catherine. “One, two, three …”

Penelope had her first shot ever.

“So what classes are you taking?” yelled the guy whom Penelope was dancing with. Penelope forgot his name. He was sweating profusely. Dancing was a very aerobic activity for him, as it involved many aggressive leg kicks.

“Oh, you know,” said Penelope. “What classes are you taking?”

“EC 10, Justice, Math 21, and Expos. And I am auditing a physics class. I don’t know. I’m taking it kind of easy this semester.”

“But what a finely balanced course load you have! It says to me that you have a finely balanced mind. Like Hercule Poirot’s,” said Penelope, tapping her head significantly.

“That’s so weird! That’s exactly what my guidance counselor said about me when I graduated high school. That I was well rounded,” said her dance partner.

“Wow,” said Penelope. “That is cool. Maybe I should be a guidance counselor.”

Penelope had been at the party in Currier for approximately fifteen minutes. She was the drunkest she had ever been, which is why she was dancing. No one else was, because almost no one was there. However, there was much effort to make the gathering seem festive. The lights were off. Beer bottles were strewn everywhere. An elaborate ice luge was set up in the middle of the room. Glasses was drinking beer out of it while Nikil pumped his fist in the air and cheered him on. Penelope felt an intense sense of embarrassment whenever she looked at that ice luge. Catherine, Emmeline, and Ted were standing in a cluster next to a makeshift bar.
Catherine was wearing an incredibly small spaghetti-strap tank top. Every time Ted said anything at all, she hugged him. Ted’s back was to Penelope, so she couldn’t see his reaction to all the affection. Jason was sleeping in a heap on the floor. Emmeline was texting.

“Are you having a good time?” asked Penelope’s dance partner.

“Hmm … Where is everyone?” asked Penelope.

“Well, our tutor came in like right before you guys came, because it was sort of loud in here, and we didn’t register the party.”

“You have to register the party?”

“Yeah, you have to tell the administration the Thursday before you have a party. And this was kind of spur of the moment, so we didn’t register it. Our tutor broke it up. Also, we didn’t get the beer luge to work until after everybody left.”

“I can see now that it is working,” said Penelope, staring at Glasses, who was now trying to shove Nikil’s face into the luge.

“Woo! Yeah, man! College!” said Penelope’s dance partner at a blistering volume, presumably at Glasses and Nikil, who wooted back.

“Wouldn’t more people have to be here for this to be collegiate? Or maybe the luge would have to be less elaborate? Or more elaborate. Something would have to be different I think. The luge would probably play a big part in it,” said Penelope. Her dance partner kicked quite high in response.

“Wow. You almost hit your own face with your leg!” said Penelope. “That’s quite impressive.” Just then, Ted walked over to her.

“Penelope, do you want to go to Eliot with us?”

“That would be good I think,” said Penelope.

“OK, well you should say good-bye to your friend here,” said Ted.

“I am sorry, my friend, I have to go,” Penelope said, patting him on the arm.

“OK,” said her dance partner, “see you around.” He did not seem too regretful to see her go.
Such accomplished dancing is best done alone
, thought Penelope.

Currier was in the Radcliffe quad about a half mile away from Harvard Yard. All the dorms were coed now, but the inconvenient distance between the old girls’ campus and the main campus remained the same. To get back to the regular campus, where Eliot was, Ted, Penelope, and their friends had to take a shuttle bus.

The bus was extremely crowded. There were no seats. Someone had vomited earlier in the night and it was rolling around on the floor. Catherine, Emmeline, Jason, Glasses, and Nikil were stuck in the front of the bus. Ted and Penelope were pushed very close together in the back of the bus. All the handrails were taken, so Penelope had to hang on to Ted’s coat.

“Oh, hi,” she said.

“Hi!” said Ted. “Did you have fun?”

“No,” said Penelope.

“But you kept dancing with that guy. Was that fun?”

“I couldn’t really keep up with him. He was too good at dancing,” said Penelope.

“You’re a decent dancer though,” said Ted. “I saw. I thought you did a pretty good job.”

“What a lie,” said Penelope. “Did you have fun?”

“No,” said Ted.

“That is because you weren’t dancing. At the next party, I want you to do the worm on the floor.”

“Are you serious?” asked Ted.

“I am just looking out for your welfare. If you want to have fun, that is what you must do,” said Penelope.

“Thanks, Penelope,” said Ted. He scratched his scalp, temporarily moving his bangs off his forehead. Then they flopped back down again like a leaden weight.

Ted took out his flask and drank out of it.

“Want some?” he asked Penelope. Penelope shrugged her shoulders.

“Sometimes I wonder if you are an alcoholic. Like William Faulkner,” said Penelope. She took a sip. It was warm vodka.

“Eww,” said Penelope. “My mouth is numb.”

“Are you OK?” asked Ted.

“Is the pope in Rome?” asked Penelope. She laughed. This was one of her mother’s favorite expressions.

Just then, Catherine, narrowly avoiding stepping in vomit, made her way toward the back of the bus.

“This is where you guys were! I was so worried!” said Catherine.

“Why?” said Ted.

“Oh, I don’t know. I was worried you weren’t going to see us when you got off. We have to get off like right now. Come on, Ted.” Catherine grabbed his arm and Penelope followed behind them.

The Eliot party was stuffed with people, which was good, but the lights were on, which was hard. Some people were dancing like crazed, uncoordinated animals. The rest were collecting in small terrible groups around the room.

Penelope was standing in a group with Ted, Catherine, Glasses, and a sophomore named Phoebe who was regaling them all with a story of her summer internship.

“I worked like fifteen-hour days. And sure, it was hard. But, in the end, it is an architectural dig in Malta. It’s going to be hard. But it’s also going to be interesting. I wish I could have planned my sophomore essay more, but hey? Trade-offs.”

“Is that Mariah Carey I hear?” said Penelope.

“I think so,” said Ted.

“Didn’t you just love Malta? I always think it’s so impressive,” said Catherine. She put her arm in the crook of Ted’s arm.