Tap & Gown (21 page)

My steps faltered.

“Also, how did the thing go with the thing this morning?”

Michelle’s vetting. I turned back to him. “There are a few complications.”

“Figures.” He flipped another page. “I’d just go with another one.”

“The path of least resistance?” I snapped. “I think too many of us are going in that direction lately. Just doing the easy thing for fear of rocking the boat, upsetting the status quo, going against the plan because the better choice comes with a few risks.”

Lydia gave me a warning look it was my turn to ignore.

“Don’t you think so, Lyds?”

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“I’m sure I have no idea what you are talking about,” she said with a tiny laugh. “Barbarian that I am.”

I perched at the edge of the coffee table. “Hey, Josh. Not to change the subject or anything, but what do you think of Eli Law?”

His brow furrowed. “Uh, I think it’s the best law school in the country?”

I leaned forward. “And if a promising young student in the field of law had the opportunity to attend that school, don’t you think they should take it?”

Josh’s expression was one of bafflement. “Is Jamie thinking of dropping out?”

“Yes!” Lydia cut in before I could clear the air. “It’s the loans. He can get a scholarship if he transfers to

… Rutgers.”

Rutgers? I almost laughed. Rutgers was where Lydia had been offered a scholarship. Josh had to know that. I shot her a dirty look, but we were getting to be experts at the ignoring thing by this point.

“That’s tough,” Josh said thoughtfully. “Law school loans aren’t that bad if you’re willing to slave in the private sector for a few years.” Which Jamie was, by the way. “But if you want to go into public service, or do advanced study … it can get a little overwhelming.”

Oh, this was ridiculous. We were so not having a conversation about my boyfriend’s ability to pay for his JD.

“I’ve always gotten the impression that Jamie didn’t actually want to be a lawyer,” Josh was saying now.

“In which case, Eli is perfect for him—right, Lydia?”

“Some people who go to Eli want to be lawyers,” she said, her tone defensive.

“Most want to go into government, though, like Jamie.”

I shook my head. “No, Jamie wants to go work for big law and make a mint.” He’d been very clear about that when we’d spoken on the train last fall. He wanted to make sure he’d never be financially beholden to anyone. He wanted the security his father had been unable to offer as a landscaper.

Josh frowned. “That’s not what he’s told me.”

“But—” I said, Lydia’s plight forgotten, and the phone rang.

Lydia answered, then handed it to me. “I think it’s …”

“Hello?” I said.

“Hi, Amy,” said Darren.

“Darren,” I said as my blood ran cold. “I thought I made it clear last time that I don’t want to—”

“I’m just calling to tell you that they are letting me go today.”

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“Already?” I blurted. Damn my tongue!

“Yep.” He laughed. “I talked to the guy who’s in charge and he says I’m fine.”

“That’s … nice.”

“And he said that he thought you and my dad were overreacting.”

“Over—”

“To what was basically a fraternity prank.”

“But—”

Darren’s tone was smug. “I guess ‘boys will be boys’ works again, huh?”

I clenched my jaw, uncertain whether to scream or cry.

“So now Dad’s taking us all to Disney World.”

“Darren,” I said, fighting to keep my voice from shaking, “I want to talk to your father. This was not our agreement.”

“Well, Dad’s not here. I’m calling from the residence hall.”

“Look—” I began, and then the phone was ripped from my hands.

“Darren Gehry,” Josh said into the receiver, “don’t ever call here again.” He clicked it off and threw the phone onto the couch.

My mouth fell open. “Why did you do that?”

“Because I’m sick of putting up with this travesty of justice. The Gehrys took advantage of you when you were in a very vulnerable position, and it’s not right.”

I took a deep breath. “Kurt Gehry swore to me—”

“That’s what ‘taking advantage’ means, Amy.” Josh’s tone was firm and condescending. “And now we’re going to call the police and report what happened.”

“You have no right to make that decision for me.”

“Amy,” Lydia said, “maybe you should think about what Josh is saying.”

“He wasn’t even there!” I cried. “He’s never even met him!”

“I trust his opinion,” Lydia argued, “and if he thinks—”

“That’s such crap!” I yelled at her. “If you really trusted his opinion you wouldn’t be lying to him!”

“What!” Lydia said.

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“What?” Josh asked.

“Lydia got into Eli Law,” I said. “She’s been afraid to tell you.” Then I turned and stalked into my bedroom.

Two days later, the chill in my suite still hadn’t dissipated. At dinner before the Rose & Grave meeting on Sunday night, Soze made a point of pretending I wasn’t there, and I calculated the odds of the other knights deciding that my outburst, which
was
in keeping with my oaths to put my society brothers first, outweighed the fact that telling your best friend’s secrets to her boyfriend was an astoundingly uncool thing to do.

I still hadn’t come to a conclusion on that issue myself. Nor on whether or not I would have spilled the beans had I not been so frazzled by Darren’s phone call and Josh’s Neanderthal behavior.

And yes, I totally brought it up to Jamie. We’re doing the openness thing now.2*How did the conversation go?

1)
He wondered aloud why it was that catty BFF/suitemate drama of this nature was almost entirely unique to what some—not
him
, mind you—but what
some
antiquated and backward individuals might call “the weaker sex.” (I resisted pointing out that he had neither suitemates nor friends with whom to indulge in catty drama, then gave him a playful—but not at all weak—smack.)
2)
He agreed that Josh was better off knowing about Lydia’s acceptance to Eli, even if it meant an earlier end to their romance than either of them had anticipated. (He remained silent on the issue of whether or not I had any right to be the bearer of the news.)

3)
He asked what I was going to do about Michelle now that we knew there were problems in her record. Apparently, the news had surprised him. Back when Jamie had been friends with her, she’d been an academic superstar. (I said we were going to get to the bottom of it, either before the interview or at it.)

4)
He admitted that whether or not Michelle ended up being a good choice to tap, bringing her to the party was still a “patently Bugaboo thing to do.” (Naturally, I fined him, and tried my best not to wonder if “patently Bugaboo” held a positive or negative connotation.) And, as expected, he hadn’t attended this meeting, either. All well and good to be involved in the tapping process when it came with free champagne and sushi, but if it was sitting around debating the relative merits of a bunch of twenty-one-year-olds, Poe wanted us to feel independent and in charge.

Right.

All I felt was weary as we discussed and debated and deliberated over the pros and cons of the juniors we’d met last week. Should we interview the guy on Big Demon’s list, knowing that if we did, we could cross off the girl on Angel’s? Their messy breakup precluded either one of them speaking to the other (let alone taking oaths to protect and love each other). Had Thorndike tainted the purity of the process when it came to her list by explaining to each of them what they were being considered for? Had Frodo corrupted his favorite choice by hooking up with him? (Quoth Angel: “The guy? Perhaps. My bath mat?

Definitely.”)

“And finally, we come to the matter of Bugaboo’s list,” Soze said, still not acknowledging me directly.

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“It is my understanding that the knight wishes to make a trade?”

“Yes,” I said, rising. “I would like to trade my red marble for the black marble belonging to our missing knight, Number Two. And I would also like to submit a junior for consideration in that knight’s slot.”

“And who would you like in your slot, Bugaboo?” Soze prompted.

I was going to have to say it out loud? “I propose to tap Topher Cox. He’s got all the qualifications we look for in our members. He’s the managing editor of the
Eli Daily News
. He’s a legacy, as his grandfather was Achilles of D125. And …” Nope, I was out.

“Passionate endorsement, Bugaboo,” said Thorndike.

“She’s saving her passion for the other one,” said Frodo.

“We all know who you’re saving your passion for,” Thorndike snapped at him.

It was getting
very
late.

“Topher Cox has been vetted by the knight Lucky. What does she say?”

Lucky looked skeptical. “
She
says he’s a throwback to some old school Diggerdom.”

“Great!” said Juno. “We could use some.”

“The patriarchs will be pleased, at least,” said Angel.

“I don’t know,” said Puck. “I know his type. He’s always going on about himself, but there’s nothing there. He’s an empty suit.”

“Wait,” said Juno. “Am I correct that
you
, of all people, are calling him shallow?”

“Yes,” said Puck, refusing to take the bait. “And if I do it, he must really be bad.”

Bond shook his head. “I still say any person who purports to be a writer and opts not to use a choriambic byline like ‘Christopher Cox’ has a tin ear.”

“An unpardonable sin, to be sure,” Graverobber grumbled into the dregs of his espresso.

Tin ear not with standing, there were no major objections to at least interviewing him.

“And the suggestion for the slot belonging to Number Two?” Soze asked wearily.

This was the part of being in a secret society that I hated. Why all the bureaucracy? Everyone knew what I was going to say and what the objections to my choice would be. We’d all made these arguments before the meeting, whether in private conversations or on our society e-mail loop. Why did we have to do it again in the Inner Temple, in scratchy old robes that smelled of must and age, in formal language adopted for the benefit of recordkeeping in the Black Books? Why indeed were we still keeping notes in the Black Books, a holdover from a pre-digital era, when with relative ease we could now record audio of every moment of every meeting for posterity?

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