Greek: Double Date (8 page)

“Was his name Dale?”

“He didn’t give his name. He was really rushed. When I told him you left already he just ran off.”

Crap! “Did he say where he was going?”

“Did he have to? Formal. Duh. But, no, he didn’t.”

“Great. Thanks.” She cursed silently as she hung up. “Forget about it,” she said, seeing Rob’s inquisitive expression. “Where were we?”

“We were talking about why you came. Otherwise you would just sit at home? Or go to a much better party?”

“No! No, I was supposed to be at this engineering awards thing last night. I kind of promised my brother I would be his roommate’s date. Dale’s being honored for his grades and has this huge but totally innocent crush on me. But the awards event got moved to tonight.”

“And?”

“And I had to choose, and I think the results are obvious. I told Dale by voice mail.”

“How did he take it?”

“He showed up to pick me up anyway. Maybe. Betsy’s a little oblivious, but I don’t know any random guys who would be showing up to pick me up at the house.”

Rob leaned against the railing. “He must be bummed.”

“It was a pity date. Every link in this chain knew that. But maybe I should go—later, I mean.”

“Later? It seems like you accomplished what you wanted here anyway.”

“What?” She was taken back. “I’m here for you.”

“And I appreciate it. It was a nice gesture, but it seems like a bad time for you. You’re upset about breaking your promise.”

“I’m not.”

He shook his head. “I can see it in your face. And the fact that you’ve checked your cell phone like eight hundred times since I picked you up.”

She unconsciously touched her purse, which contained her phone. “Maybe. But I would rather be with you. I want to be here with you.”

He shrugged. “I’m around. I’m a student, and at night I have the social life of a transfer student—no friends because I wasn’t here to network freshman year. A Greek formal is not the beginning and end of my social calendar.”

“Are you bored? Is it that I’m boring you?”

“No.” And he looked into her eyes when he said it. He wasn’t evasive, as Evan or Cappie could be. “You’re one of the most intelligent and interesting people I’ve met since my first day here. So…what I’m saying is I’m not going to drop off the earth at the end of the ball. I could even…I don’t know, take you out another night? To something with less gossip and more fun?”

“Of course!” She jumped at the idea. “Yes! Yes, I would love to go out…to a movie or dinner or Dobbler’s or something. Less formal. More social. More…date-y.” She narrowed her eyes. “Why are you pushing me to go to the engineering event? Is it the stares Rebecca’s giving you?”

“I like to think she’s not staring. Is she?”

“Um, no,” she lied, and he was probably smart enough to not believe her, but to accept her answer anyway.

“Look,” he said, after glancing over his shoulder, “I’ve been involved in politics since I was twelve, and I know that if you’re going to go into politics in any form, you’re not going to get a lot of chances to do the right thing. And keeping your promise to a guy and not breaking his heart is doing the right thing.”

He had a point. A solid, factual, gripping point. “You don’t mind?”

He took her hand. “I’ll escort you to your other date.”

Casey had only one response to that. “You. Are. Amazing.”

“I don’t get that a lot. Maybe I should date girls who have other places to be more often.” He laughed, and without further discussion, they left the formal together.

“Hey, have you seen Casey?” Dale half whispered to Rusty. “I went by her house and she was already gone.”

Rusty could feel his palms clamming up. “She didn’t call?”

“I dropped my phone in the sink again this morning. That thing is like, the least water-resistant technology I have ever encountered. I’ve had better experience with motherboards. A couple drops and it goes on the fritz. Once I answered it with a wet head from the shower—”

“Dale—”

“Anyway, no, she didn’t call. No one’s called me. Or I assume not.”

“Dale.” But he couldn’t bring himself to say the words. This was Casey’s responsibility, not his.

“Should I mention that? Cell phones and water? It is elec
trical engineering. It’s a major issue. I’ve ruined three phones, two in the kitchen and one because my mom has this mystical ability to know when I’m just getting in or out of the shower. That seems like a good senior project—the water-resistant phone. The dean’s here. I could propose it. You know, bounce it off him while he’s relaxed, see how it goes. The senior project is a big deal and I’m a sophomore already. Or I could talk to the assistant dean. She seems nice. A little pale.”

“Mercury poisoning. Dale—”

“Was I supposed to buy a corsage? You told me I wasn’t supposed to. How am I supposed to impress Casey if I don’t have the right things? I already don’t have the right moves. Unless it’s square dancing. Does your sister square-dance?”

“Dale, Casey is…over there.” To his own shock, he saw his sister emerge from the hedges, dressed up for a formal but very present at this particular event. Upon spotting them, she came rushing up.

“Hi, Dale,” she said. “Rus. Sorry I’m late. Sorority things.”

While Dale stammered to greet his date, Rusty cut in, “Dale’s phone broke this morning. So if you happened to send any messages, he
didn’t get them.
”

Casey got the message. “Oh, okay. Dale, sorry about your phone.”

“I didn’t break it. I dropped it and water destroyed it,” Dale said, smiling nervously. “Hi, Casey. Thanks for coming.”

She smiled back warmly. “I’m glad to be here.”

Casey couldn’t believe her luck. After playing both
sides, she didn’t deserve this. Her ill-crafted speech of apology to Dale for ditching him and then appearing late went up in smoke, thanks to Dale’s inability to manage dishes and a cell phone at the same time, and Rusty had been there to tell her that before she started the embarrassing aforementioned speech, which would have been made only
more
embarrassing because of Dale’s cluelessness. Of course, Dale spent the first five minutes in a stammering, sputtering daze, so with a nod to her brother, Casey sort of led him back into the event herself. Back in his element, Dale relaxed, regaling her with all the names of the important people he’d met, alumni and/or representatives of a prestigious graduate school or company on the hunt for new talent.

They were finishing off their cocktail hour on the green and moving into the reception area for the sit-down dinner, which was considerably less fancy and romantic than the Greek formal’s setting but still classy. Only a few students were
wearing jeans, and almost everyone had a jacket and tie. Aside from the speaker’s podium, there were few decorations. The students outnumbered the alumni, but not by much, so no one was too swarmed.

Dale introduced her to a parade of deans, and though Casey was aware that he was unintentionally showing her off, she didn’t mind it nearly as much as she’d imagined she might. They all regarded her with some respect—not as a sorority girl. She supposed they didn’t know she was one, and Dale felt no need or compulsion to mention it. A couple of them asked her what her major was, and she said she was moving into political science, to which they responded positively again, though a few mentioned that the major was a little crowded, even if it was better than most liberal arts concentrations.

“I don’t have a problem with liberal arts,” said a Professor Girard, who was surprisingly young for a professor and apparently taught paleontology. “Have you done any internships?”

“Last summer.” She listed the good parts of that internship, but not the bad.

“The real excitement is working for a campaign—but the pay can be spotty. It’s about a real commitment to a cause,” he said. “I volunteered on a campaign years ago for a mayor who might have gone to the White House, or so I stupidly said to him. A friend of mine who’s far more cynical had a good laugh over it after the mayor’s mistress overdosed in the hotel above campaign headquarters. And so I decided to focus on the politics of people who’ve been dead for at least two thousand years and leave their political commentary on tomb walls. But it is a good experience—and better if the candidate wins, of course.”

“I heard working for a campaign might get you a job in the administration.”

“It’s not as guaranteed as you would think, but it’s much better than trying to get a job with a losing candidate.” He said he wouldn’t be much help, but told her to take a certain class next semester if she could fit it into her schedule, and she thanked him.

“I didn’t know you were so into politics,” Dale said, having been silent through most of that conversation. He could really be polite when he wanted to be, which around her was pretty much all the time.

“What did you think I was into?”

He got flustered rather quickly, so much so that it was funny. “I, um…English literature?” Meaning, he had no idea what sorority girls did with their time, academically.

She just smiled at him, actually amused and seeing no reason not to show it, as he seemed to calm down when she smiled. “You don’t have to answer. And I’ve been through a couple majors.”

“It’s good…to have a widespread…educational experience?” He was still searching for the right answer to impress her. She just tugged on his sleeve a little bit and they moved on.

When Casey finally read the program card on the table, she was shocked to recognize the name of the presenter of the award, not as a university person, but a big politico named a few times during her internship as being a go-to guy, especially for funding. Congresswoman Baker mentioned him once or twice in meetings or in passing. His name was Ted Griffin. Dale’s reaction to hearing his name as a political figure was surprise. “I guess.” He shrugged. “He is really rich. I think he invented some kind of electrical battery for airplane cockpits. Now he owns a controlling share in one of the airlines. Pretty cool for an engineer. Also I heard he skydives. Like Richard Branson.”

“Are we going to meet him?”

“Yeah, sure. I guess so.” He wasn’t nearly as enthused, but he was Dale, the engineer, and this night was about him, not politics. Still, Casey saw no reason not to try to snatch an opportunity to talk to Griffin, who might have interesting advice—or at least remember her name and face in the future when she introduced herself in some other situation. “Maybe there’ll be time, you know, after the ceremony. Oh, hey, Cappie. You made it.”

At which point, Casey’s sky significantly darkened. Which for nighttime was saying something. Her heart leaped into her throat. She tried to swallow it down, but it wouldn’t stop pounding.

There was Cappie in all his glory—with a suave dark suit and his hair halfway combed but still adorably tousled. “Hey, Dale.” Completely casually, he exchanged a respect-knuckle complicated handshake with Dale. “Casey.” It was remarkable with how little emotion he said it, at least in front of Dale. “What are you doing here?”

“What are
you
doing here?”

“Uh, I have a wide spectrum of social activities and interests. Such as seeing my buddy Daley here get honored. Also, Casey, I’m dating your brother.”

“He’s Rusty’s plus-one since Jordan’s at the formal,” Dale explained, completely oblivious to her panic. “He has someone sitting in for him for the formal.”

“And I assume Heath will carry out his presidential duties with all of the dignity the office requires,” Cappie said. “Did you know Dean Kessin knows how to hot-wire a car?”

“I totally did not know that,” Dale said. “That’s awesome. For, like, emergencies of course.”

“It seems like tonight is just full of surprises,” Casey said through her teeth.

After Dale ran off to freshen his drink, Casey closed in on Cappie so they wouldn’t be overheard. “Are you stalking me?”

“
Stalking
is a word I’ve been hearing a lot lately. And with all due respect to the actual word, I must admit that hearing about your attendance as Dale’s date was a somewhat persuasive argument in my social decisions. Also, the All-Greek Formal sucks and everyone knows it.”

“But you’ve never missed it.”

“Fine. If it makes you feel better, Rebecca was stalking me—to use the popular term—via text message all day today, asking me to be her date.”

“You broke up with Rebecca…when?”

“Way, way too long ago to go down that road again. Not when she’s so desperate. What’s up?”

Casey sighed. “Long story. Actually, a long story that doesn’t really have an ending. She’s obsessed with avoiding this transfer student she knows from high school.”

“Juicy.”

“Neither of them will admit to the thing that keeps them apart like—”

“Opposite ends of magnetic poles?”

She stared at him.

“Sorry, I think it’s in the water here. And I was an engineering major—”

“For two days.”

“You either have an excellent memory, or you’re hyperfocused on my personal history. I wonder which one it is. Or which is more stalker-ish.”

“Don’t embarrass me.”

“In front of whom? The dean of engineering? Your brother? Because one of those you don’t know and couldn’t care less
about, and the other has already seen me embarrass you at least half a dozen times. Seven to be precise.”

“Just…don’t? Okay?”

Cappie seemed to grasp the severity of her tone, and the situation—for once. “Fine. Best behavior.”

“So, why are you really here?”

“Open bar. There, that’s the final lousy excuse I’m giving.” He half smiled at her and walked off.

Finding herself flustered for some reason, Casey actually welcomed the return of Dale with another drink for her, even if it was soda. “So,” he said, “did you see the ice sculpture?”

“No,” Casey said, “but I would love to.” Because if he didn’t put his tongue on it first, Cappie could get involved in a conversation with the ice sculpture.

Jordan’s night could be going better. Admittedly no disasters had occurred. Her heels hadn’t broken, because she was wearing flats; Rusty hadn’t recently had a major crisis she had to talk him through; and no one from ZBZ had done anything truly embarrassing yet. She finally stopped texting Rusty long enough to look around for Casey, but couldn’t find her. She did find Ashleigh and Fisher, a couple she loved, and the fact that they weren’t accepted as a couple because he was a hasher just stood as another example of the ridiculously obnoxious Greek system. So Ashleigh was dating the kitchen guy. She wasn’t above him. This wasn’t the nineteenth century.

“Have you seen Casey?”

“Oh, she left,” Ashleigh said. “I know!
Shocker
. And it wasn’t because of the formal, or so she said in a message on my phone. She went to the engineering event. Rob even took
her. Not sure how that works out, her having two dates at once, but she’s managing.”

“Oh.” It seemed that Casey was smarter than she was and had found an excuse to leave.

“I’m sure Rusty would have come if he could have,” Ashleigh said, slightly misinterpreting her plight. “And at least he didn’t drag you to the engineering event and make you miss the formal.”

“It was very nice of him,” Jordan said, because it was the only possible answer that was appropriate. In a depressed haze she returned to the bar. “I hate these things.”

“Oh, my God! How can you say that?” said the girl next to her, who couldn’t have been more than a junior, if that. “Open bar. I mean you need an ID, but I have one. Do you need a drink?”

She looked at the overly dressed—even for a formal—fellow student and said, “No, thanks.”

The other girl finished her drink. “Okay, if not for the bar, this thing would be totally boring. I’m supposed to have guys falling to the floor over me, and that is totally not happening.”

“I didn’t know that was supposed to happen.”

“What, that wasn’t promised to you when you were introduced to the sororities? Are you someone’s date?”

“I’m a ZBZ,” Jordan answered, surprised at her own indignation and need to defend her house. Maybe she
was
a ZBZ.

“Oh, my God! You are what I should totally be. I don’t know you, and I had to memorize everything about everybody. You’re a pledge?”

Jordan nodded. “Jordan.”

“Linda. I was a ZBZ last year, but—and don’t get all judgmental—I left with Frannie to join IKI.”

“I don’t judge.” She did, but in this case, what she said was
true. Sometimes the sororities were hard to tell apart anyway. “Why did you leave, if I can ask?”

“Um, politics. You know the story?”

“I’ve heard it told a couple different ways, but never the IKI way.”

Linda swallowed the cherry from her drink. “ZBZ last year was a mess. When I accepted my offer, they were the most distinguished house with the best, nicest, prettiest girls on campus and Frannie was the most awesome president ever. I was thrilled. Then there was that whole scandal with Jen K., my pledge sister. I ran a marathon for charity with her! She was kinda weird, but she was a legacy so they had to let her in, and they didn’t suspect anything until she wrote the article about ZBZ and Greek life in general. From there everything was terrible—for everyone, but especially for ZBZ. Nationals sent this crazy woman to tell us how to act and instituted all kinds of crazy traditions and then Casey actually
kept
some of them when she left. ZBZ was not a fun place.

“Frannie told us to lie to the woman from Nationals, so we did, then Casey went behind her back and told the truth, and we all looked like liars. So Casey was made interim president, but Frannie came back, staying a fifth year and running for president
again,
even though she’d been president and was kicked out for her presidential decisions. So she ran a really mean campaign, and Casey ran a mean campaign right back and we all knew things we didn’t want to know about either of them, and Rebecca was like, ‘choose a side.’ And we all decided to take
her
side, because she was so organized and thoughtful, and we voted in Ashleigh. And that was another disaster, because she wasn’t running and totally did not want to be president and was much worse than Casey or Frannie and totally needed Casey’s help to do anything at first.”

Jordan just nodded.

“So all through Hell Week, I’m thinking I’ve spent a year of college memorizing handbooks and cheers and snapping instead of clapping and looking beautiful all the time and doing demeaning pledge chores, and for what? To listen to a bunch of older students bicker like they’re in high school? I couldn’t take it anymore, but if I walked out, I would never be in a sorority. So Frannie offered me a fresh start with this new house she was founding, and I hadn’t been personally involved with anything bad Frannie did, and it was really my only option, so I said yes.” She looked out at the bar, at nothing in particular. “I guess I shouldn’t be so judgmental because I wasn’t thinking critically, as Frannie made all these promises to get us to leave and she didn’t deliver on most of them and I should have expected that after all I’d been through in the past year, but I still had trust. Uh, this is just between us, right?”

Instead of swearing to it, Jordan shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t have anyone else to tell.”

“Okay, because I shouldn’t be going on like this, but you get it, right? I had no choice. Sort of. I had two choices, and one of them was bad and one of them was sounding better.”

“I don’t get the whole system anyway, so, yeah, I can understand that.”

“So we get to school and move into this house and it’s a mess because Frannie couldn’t afford a house hasher, and now the pledges refuse to do anything because they know that we’ve been dissolved and they have no reason to invest any time in IKI. Not that I blame them. They’re smarter than us, I can tell you that. And we have a creepy psycho landlady who’s always drunk and touchy. The only reason we’re still living there is we have nowhere else to go. All the dorms are filled up and it
was too late to find other housing.” Linda looked depressed—or suicidal, just from her expression. “I miss what it all used to be like at ZBZ before this whole mess. We had a lot of fun times. But after everything that’s happened, I don’t know if anyone there would accept me back.”