Reborn (10 page)

Chapter 13

“Siobhan!”

“Do you think
she’s alright? Should we call an ambulance?”

“She’ll
be fine. Look, her eyes are opening.”

“Siobhan!”

My
eyes flutter open. Blinding artificial light greets them, and they squeeze shut
again. There’s something wonderfully soft underneath my head. It feels like a
cloud. I open my eyes again halfway until they adjust to the light. The three
faces floating above me flood with relief. Tanya sits at my feet, twirling a
lock of fried blonde hair around her pointer finger. Victoria stands over me,
her amber eyes even larger and rounder than usual as she looks at me with
concern. Jasper crouches next to my head, smoothing the hair back from my face.
I’m lying on the couch. The cloud is a pillow.

“How
are you feeling?” Victoria asks me.

I
rub my neck and collarbone. “Sore.” It still hurts where Liz tried to strangle
me.

“Do
you want us to call Student Health? They have an emergency number,” Tanya says.

I
shake my head. “No. I’ll be okay. I want to sit up.” Victoria reaches out to
help me, but Jasper beats her to it, his hands clasping my forearms with gentle
firmness. Her eyes narrow as she watches him guide me into an upright position.

“I
think it’s time for you to go. We have a curfew. Sorry.” Victoria’s smile is
anything but apologetic. There’s a note of familiarity in her condescending
tone. It’s the same tone Anna uses when she disapproves of something Jimmy
does.

“Siobhan’s
had a rough night. I’m sure you can make an exception,” Jasper counters.
Victoria opens her mouth to argue, but then we both look up at the same time to
see a dark figure appear on the stairs. She steps out into the living room
light.

“Liz.”
I know my voice is panicked, but I don’t even care. I clutch the pillow to my
chest and try to back further into the couch, as if I can disappear there.

“Just
leave us alone for now,” Victoria says. Liz ignores her warning, but her pace
is slow and hesitant as she crosses the room to us. She hasn’t changed out of
her black and white checkered dress. Her cornrows are slightly frizzed and look
like they’re starting to come undone.

“I
just wanted to say I’m sorry,” she says, stopping a few feet away. “I don’t
know what got into me. I feel terrible.”

“You
should,” Tanya reminds her. “You tried to choke her to death.”

“It’s
fine,” I mumble, but I avoid meeting Liz’s hurt, pleading gaze. “Let’s just
forget it ever happened.”

“I
know it’s not ‘fine.’ I don’t know what I can do to make it better. I…” Liz
trails off and looks at Jasper as though she’s only just realized he’s there.
Her eyes follow his hand as he strokes the back of my hair to comfort me.

“Let
me know what I can do,” she adds quietly through gritted teeth. She turns away
and heads back up the stairs. I don’t know if it’s because she’s really ashamed
of attacking me or if it’s because she’s resisting the urge to do it again.

Liz
is gone, but just then someone swipes their key in the front door. As the door
swings open, I catch a glimpse of two long legs in tightly woven black fishnet
stockings.

“Victoria,
I just saw your text,” Farrah’s saying as she enters. The sequins of her black
mini dress send spotty shadows along the floor. “What happ—”

She
falters when she sees Jasper.

And
it’s as if two planets soundlessly collide inside the space of our sorority
house.

Jasper
had his arm around me but abruptly pulls away from me. I watch him stare at
Farrah. Jasper, who is usually so sure of himself, so calm and collected, is
now silently screaming
Are you shitting me?!
as he looks at our house
mother. A moment later his dark blue eyes become black pits and his body
trembles with pent-up rage. In the next, he relaxes, his eyes clear again, and
he looks confused and almost hurt.

I’m
so transfixed watching Jasper that I forget about Tanya and Victoria. I look
over at them, but they’re both still fussing over me. I think I’m the only one
who witnessed what passed between Jasper and Farrah.

Farrah’s
rosy lips are parted in quiet uncertainty, but she recovers herself quickly and
politely offers Jasper her hand. “I’m Farrah, the girls’ house mother.”

He
takes her hand and gives it a brief, stiff shake. “Jasper.”

When
their hands touch, the temperature in the room plummets about a gazillion
degrees. I suddenly feel small and insignificant, like I’m looking up at the
Milky Way in the night sky trying to comprehend the vastness of the universe. A
power I don’t understand is filling up the room, pushing against me from all
sides, pushing me away, pushing me out…

“I
should go,” Jasper says. Victoria shoots him a look that says,
Ya think?
Jasper gets up, but then leans back down to whisper in my ear, “I added my
contact info to your cell while you were out. Text me and let me know how you
are.”

“Goodnight,”
he says to the rest of the room. He gives the back of Farrah’s head one last,
long menacing look before he leaves. Farrah takes his place on the couch beside
me.

“Please
tell me exactly what happened.”

When
I just sit there quietly, staring at my hands in my lap, Victoria takes over
and recounts Liz’s freak out. “Liz almost choked her to death,” she finishes.
“Siobhan was unconscious for about ten minutes, but then she came back.”

“Yeah,
she does that,” Farrah mutters. Or at least I think that’s what she said.

“I
didn’t know she felt so strongly about him,” I finally say, my voice shrill and
defensive. “We weren’t even doing anything!”

“You
two
were
gone for quite some time. You missed the rest of the mixer,”
Victoria points out. I know she probably thinks I misrepresented Gamma Lambda Phi
by disappearing, but she also realizes that now really isn’t the time to scold
me. Especially not in front of Farrah, whose expression I can’t even read. I
was just assaulted by one of my own sorority sisters. I would have thought
she’d be freaking out or overflowing with concern. Instead her face is
impassive as she listens to our account.

“We
went for a walk,” I insist. “It’s not like he was going to get in my pants.”

“Of
course not—” Victoria hurries to apologize, but Farrah talks over her.

“Have
you talked to Liz since then?”

I
nod. “She was just down here before you came in. She said she was sorry.”

Farrah
claps her hands on her thighs. “Well, then it sounds like you girls worked
everything out on your own.” She stands up. “You don’t even need me.”

I
glance at Victoria and Tanya. Their faces look how mine feels: Mouths gaping,
eyes wide in astonishment and confusion.

“It’s
not resolved at all!” Victoria exclaims. “How can Siobhan possibly feel safe
living with Liz after that? Farrah, we need to put her on probation.”

Farrah
arches a skeptical eyebrow, but asks me, “How do you feel about the living
situation? Do you feel safe?”

Despite
my initial surprise over Farrah’s nonchalant response, what could they really
do about it if I don’t feel safe? They can’t just kick Liz to the curb.

“Yes.
I don’t think she’ll do it again.” And this is the truth. I can’t explain Liz’s
outburst, or why I’m not scared anymore, but I’m not. Just shocked. I want to blame
it all on Jasper, but that’s unfair, too. I saw them talking and stomped away
like an angst-ridden teenager who saw her boyfriend flirting with another girl.
At least that’s probably what it looked like to Liz. Of course he was going to
chase after me. So it was probably partly my fault. Not that I deserved to be
strangled, but still.

Victoria
and Tanya still look uncertain, concerned—like they want to argue with me, but
their lips stay sealed.

“See?”
Farrah says to Victoria. “I’ll have a talk with Liz, but I think it’s best if
we move on.” She gives a dainty yawn, covering her mouth with her hand. “I’m
worn out. Goodnight, girls.” Her black hooker boots pound the floor as she
walks to her room.

“You
should probably go upstairs and get some rest,” Victoria advises.

I
lower my head back onto the pillow. “I’m too tired to get up. I think I’ll just
sleep down here.”

“I
will, too,” Tanya says. Before I can tell her I don’t need a bodyguard, she
bounds upstairs to get her stuff.

“If
you change your mind about anything and want to talk about it, you know my door
is always open,” Victoria reminds me.

“Mmmhm,”
I mutter, curling up underneath the afghan and closing my eyes.

Chapter 14

“You
don’t
have
to go to Chapter today,” Victoria
says from the doorway
to my room. I’m looping a thin black patent leather belt around the waist of my
charcoal gray dress. “Maybe you should rest.”

“I’ve
been resting all day. I’m feeling much better now.” Today was the epitome of a
lazy Sunday. I stayed in bed and watched videos on YouTube all day until it was
time to get ready for our weekly chapter meeting. Plus, tonight is my dinner
with Anna, Jasper and his mysterious friend. I couldn’t skip chapter and then
leave for that.

Victoria
gives a resigned sigh. “See you downstairs.” She disappears. I take my badge
out of my jewelry box and fasten it to my dress. Our badge is a gold
horseshoe-shaped laurel wreath, ancient Greece’s symbol of victory.

“Siobhan!”
Someone—I think it’s Carly—shouts my name from the stairs. “There’s a boy here
to see you!”

Crap.
A boy? Chapter starts in just a few minutes. Who would drop by without telling
me? Is it Max? Jasper?

“Coming!”
I slip on my black pumps and hobble downstairs.

When
I get to the bottom, the living room is packed with sorority girls wearing
business formal, and Jimmy sits on the couch, watching them all with wary eyes.
His head perks up when he sees me. The big, happy grin spreading on his face
erases my panic and brings a smile to my own.

“Hey,”
I say, joining him on the couch. “What are you doing here?”

“Just
wanted to come by and check up on you,” he explains. “Anna told me you had a
rough night.” I nod. This morning I texted Anna about dinner and vaguely
mentioned that I had “fainted” last night. “How are you feeling?”

“Oh,
I’m fine now.” I glance over to where Liz is standing by the TV cabinet. I felt
her eyes on me, but when I catch her she quickly looks away. “I’ll tell you
later,” I promise. “Look, it’s sweet of you to stop by, but we’re about to have
a meeting.”

“Sorry!”
Jimmy quickly stands up. “I was wondering why everybody was so dressed up.”

“It’s
no problem. I really am glad you came. I just feel bad having to kick you out.”

He
takes my hand as we walk to the door. “Anna also told me about your double date
tonight,” he adds, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

I
scowl. “It’s
not
a double date. It’s an information-gathering dinner.”

“How
romantic.” He smirks, but then his face grows serious. “I want to take you out
later this week.”

“I’d
like that.” He pecks me on the cheek, and I gently close the door behind him.

“Oooooo!”
Tanya and a few of the other sisters sing at me as I join the circle they’re
forming around the room.

“Shut
up,” I mutter, but I’m still smiling and my heart flutters in my chest. To my
left I clasp Tanya’s hand, and to my right, Carly’s. Victoria leads us in the
secret ceremony with which we open our chapter meetings. Afterwards, everyone
sits down in the chairs lined up in the middle of the room, and Victoria stands
in front of us, getting down to business. One-by-one, she calls on each
executive board member to stand and give pretty much the same report we gave
her at the beginning of the week.

“Siobhan
has a very important reminder,” Victoria prefaces when it’s my turn. I go into
social-chair-mode, hopping to my feet and beaming with excitement.

“This
coming Friday is our annual ‘Find Your Sister a Mister’ party!” I exclaim, and
the room erupts in a flurry of snaps and cheers. “You only have one more week
to find your big sister a date if you haven’t already! And if you’re like me
and don’t have a little—no worries! Someone else in your family tree will set
you up.” I look pointedly at Tanya. “All sisters and blind dates must be at the
house at six. Promptly at six thirty, we’ll board a shuttle that will take us
to the Riverfront Bar and Grill. There will be lots of great food, music,
dancing—and then the shuttle will pick us up again at eleven.”

“Everyone
must take the shuttle,” Victoria jumps in. “Due to liability issues no one is
allowed to go separately.”

“Also,
I need volunteers to help set up and decorate. Any takers?” A handful of arms
go up in the air. I count ten and jot their names down.

“Thanks
for volunteering, guys. Anything else, Siobhan?” asks Victoria. I shake my head
and sit back down. “Great. Thank you for your report.

“Now,
before we break: As Farrah announced a few days ago, we’re going to end chapter
each week with a little bit of ritual practice.”

Farrah,
who exercised unusual self-restraint throughout this entire meeting, rises and
disappears into the kitchen. Chairs scrape against the floor as the rest of us
get up, and we reform our circle around the room. Victoria hefts a massive,
worn leather-bound book I’ve never seen before onto the podium and carefully
peels back page after thin, yellowed page until she finds the one she’s looking
for. Words printed in a miniscule serif font scuttle across each page like
hundreds of tiny black insects.

She
stoops again, this time resurfacing with a fistful of incense sticks, a
diffuser and a translucent pink lighter. One swift flick of her thumb produces
a dancing yellow flame, which she holds to the ends of the sticks. After
letting them burn for a few seconds, she gently blows on them. The flames
diminish, leaving behind a soft glow. Smoke curls from the smoldering tips.
Shudders ripple through the sisters standing closest to Victoria, their faces
turning a grayish green. They stumble toward the center of the circle away from
the undulating smoke, hands clamped over their mouths. Their muffled shrieks of
panic and disgust shatter the calm anticipation that has settled over the room.

“What
the heck
is
that?”

“It
smells
terrible
.”

“Really?
I think it smells good.” Carly says it as though she’s done something wrong.

I
like it, too—I’d even go so far as to say its blend of honey and vanilla smells
enticing. A distant memory prods me in the back of my mind, but the conflicting
reactions of my sisters to the aroma—or stench—filling the room consumes my
attention. About half of the room is like me, Tanya and Carly, breathing in
deeply and smiling with contentment, while the others gag into their hands.

Farrah
returns holding a large bronze goblet and comes to stand beside Victoria.

“If
the smell of the incense is bothering you, you may leave.” Even though their
eyes bug out of their green faces, the girls don’t leave right away, just look
at Farrah with uncertainty. “Please leave. You may wait outside.” This sends
them racing for the door, squeezing out of it two and three at a time. The rest
of us take a few steps forward to fill in the gaps left behind and tighten up
the circle.

“Tanya,
please lower the lights.” Tanya obediently reaches back and flips off a few of
the switches to the ceiling lights. “I’m going to teach you a new ritual today.
A very important one called The Guardian Ceremony.” Farrah gives the cup to
Carly. “Each sister must take a drink from the chalice before passing it onto
the next—”

“No!
Don’t drink it!”

All
eyes shift from Farrah to me. I’ve taken a few steps forward, my hand reaching
for Carly, whose lips are paused on the metallic rim of the chalice.

I
feel myself flush as I lower my hand. “Sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”

“It’s
just water.” One look at Victoria’s patient, encouraging expression reassures
me—well, almost. There’s still something odd about this ceremony. This must be
what non-Greeks
think
we do—burn incense, recite oaths from
ancient-looking texts and drink from ornate goblets.

“Drink
of the nectar of Olympus to obtain strength of the mind.” Victoria’s strong
voice rings out clear and commanding in the otherwise silent room, reciting a
slightly different version of our motto as we pass around the cup. When it
comes to me, I roll the cool water around on my tongue for a moment before
letting it slip down my throat. I expect to feel different after drinking it,
but it’s anticlimactic. I give an imperceptible shrug of my shoulders and neck,
but everything seems normal, so I pass the cup to Tanya.

“Drink
to obtain strength of the body. Drink to obtain strength of the heart.”

Eventually
the empty cup returns to Farrah, and she sets it on the coffee table behind
her.

“Now,
please repeat after me.” We go back and forth—Farrah reciting chunks of the
ceremony from memory, the rest of us repeating it, stumbling over the words as
we struggle to recall what was just read to us. In my mind, I bring the
segments together, and the resulting poem is bizarre and unlike any ritual
we’ve ever done:

“Sisters we gather,

In answer to the call,

To fulfill our destiny

As guardians this side of the wall.

“Where the fabric wears thin,

And our enemy’s at hand,

We must thrust him back

Into his own land.

“We honor our legacy

And before the night is done,

Sisters past, present and future

Will unite as one.”

Again,
I keep expecting something to happen—the floor to start quaking, Victoria’s
book to start glowing,
something
—but after we say the final words, the
room grows quiet and still. The book closes with a thump, and Victoria jumps
and covers her mouth with her hand as if she didn’t mean to slam it that
loudly.

“Thank
you, ladies. That will be all for today,” Farrah tells us.

We
stand there, hands linked, for a moment longer—everybody thinking that ritual
practice couldn’t possibly be over. Although some confused whispers rumble
around the room, nobody asks the questions we’re all thinking: What was the
point? What’s the ritual for? Finally we disband and start folding up and
putting away the chairs. I check my phone—and it’s a good thing, too, because
Anna texted me ten minutes ago to let me know she was here.

sorry
we just got done. coming
, I reply.

***

“Sorry,”
I say again as I crawl into the passenger’s side of Anna’s truck.

“It’s
okay. I wasn’t waiting for that long.” She turns the car back on and pulls away
from the curb. Haunting orchestra music and the rich tones of a mezzo-soprano
fill the car.

“What
is this?”

“The
soundtrack to ‘Faust,’” she explains. “We’re having auditions this week. I’m
trying out for Marguerite. So, where are we meeting them again?”

“Isabela’s.
It’s in Willow Park.”

“Willow
Park? Isn’t that where all the rich people live?”

I
shrug and search for it on her GPS. “It’s not far. Make a right here.”

Fifteen
minutes later, we roll up to a tall iron gate at the entrance to a towering
stone mansion.

Anna
cranes her neck out of the open car window and gapes. “I hope this dinner’s on
them.” A teenager wearing a black suit and navy blue silk tie strolls up to
Anna’s window, and his smooth freckled face smiles.

“Good
evening, and welcome to Isabela’s European Cuisine at the Willow Park Hotel. I
can take your, uh—” his eyes give her banana yellow pickup truck the
once-over—“truck for you, Miss.”

“Oh!
Yeah, sure.” Anna and I get out, and she hands her keys to him. “Thanks. I feel
like a redneck,” she adds as we watch the valet take the truck around back. We
gaze up at the Willow Park Hotel. The architecture reminds me of a castle and
of another mansion my family and I toured once in East Laurel, my hometown’s
posh neighbor—the style is called Elizabethan revivalist, I think. The
floodlights on the manicured lawn cast a romantic glow over its glittering
granite face and stained glass windows. Two young ash trees stand guard on
either side of the concrete porch steps. Climbing the stairs, we pause for a
moment on each step to look around and take in our grandiose surroundings. One
of the heavy black doors is propped open, and the faint strains of violin music
drift outside.

In
the foyer, our shoes hit white marble tiles. A crystal chandelier dangles from
a soaring ceiling, and colorful tapestries decorate the pale gold walls. Behind
an oak wood podium stands the host, wearing a tuxedo and maroon bowtie. His
piercing black eyes regard us expectantly from behind the round, wire-framed
glasses perched on his prominent nose. Anna and I walk up to him.

“Hi,
we’re meeting someone here,” I tell him. “The reservation is under Jasper
Hart.”

He
looks down at his leather-bound notebook, light from the chandelier glinting
off his smooth, bare head as he shakes his head. “I’m sorry, we don’t have a
reservation under that name. What time is the reservation for?”

I
glance at Anna in confusion. “Seven.”

He
scans the page again. “The only reservation we have for seven is for a party of
four, under a Dr. Eric Mars.”