The Body in the Ivy (15 page)

When she entered the dorm living room, with its contemporary furniture that always reminded her of a hotel lobby, Rachel Gold's brother was playing the piano. Rachel was Chris's favorite and she sometimes sat outside Rachel's door listening to her play. She never asked to come in. Rachel's music seemed as private to her as Chris's attachment to the world of growing things.

Max Gold was only eighteen, but he was already a famous musician. Chris watched him as he played. He seemed to go into a trance. Music was supposed to make plants grow better; she had never tried it, although she'd talked to them for as long as she could remember. It
would be an interesting experiment. Three plants—she'd talk to one, play music for another—classical—and give the last the silent treatment.

Rachel's brother was in love with Prin. It was hard to imagine any man who wouldn't be, she thought. Prin was gorgeous. Her eyes were the color of Superba clematis, deep, velvety purple. Chris watched as he got up from the piano and went over to the couch to sit between Prin and Rachel. He was smiling at both of them, but his gaze was locked on Prin. Would she ever be in love like this? Chris wondered. She thought about it a great deal. Just before sleep a shadow figure would enter her mind, a silhouette against lush foliage. She could almost feel his hand in hers as they walked off through forests, meadows, fields, and flowers. Max was taking Prin's hand now, covering it. Chris shuddered slightly—a mixture of fear and delight.

 

Maggie was coming undone, unglued, unhinged. There was no way she could finish her poli sci paper and study for her economics midterm, both tomorrow. She'd managed so far, but this semester was a killer. And she was so tired. How did Prin pull it off? Her roommate never seemed to do any work, but it always got done. She sighed and turned back to her text, but the words kept blurring before her eyes. Maybe a short nap, just a little one. She'd set the alarm to make sure she didn't sleep too long. Her bed beckoned. No, she couldn't take the time. She'd work on the paper instead. Maybe another cup of coffee would do it—and a candy bar. She was wearing her pajamas, no tight waistband to chide her.

She had been elected class president again this year
and also to house council, at Prin's urging. They were in a new house, she said, and needed one of their own to be on it. Maggie was sure to be elected, since the other sophomores knew who she was from her tenure as class president. With these activities and her work on the
Pelham Gazette,
the school paper, it was like having several, additional full-time jobs. Maybe she should drop the paper for the rest of the semester, but it was fun covering faculty meetings, her beat, and interviewing people on various topics for her column, “The Pelham Perspective.”

“Maggie, wake up! Don't you have a lot of work to do?”

It was Prin. Her cheeks were flushed and her hand on Maggie's arm had been cool. She must have just come in through the fire door.

“I only dozed off for a moment. Out with Max?”

“Something like that.”

“What time is it, anyway?”

“Nearly one o'clock.”

“Oh no! I couldn't have slept that long. What am I going to do?”

“First go splash some cold water on your face and we'll figure something out.”

Maggie trudged disconsolately down the hallway to the bathroom. Cold water wasn't going to do it, unless there was enough for her to drown herself in. She couldn't flunk out. Her mother had not been thrilled with Maggie's grades last year or first semester, but they'd been respectable, and her mother
was
thrilled at her daughter's growing political power on campus.

Back in the room, Prin had changed into pajamas and was sitting cross-legged on her bed smoking a Gauloise. Maggie had gotten used to the smell of the French cigarettes, but not to the point where she was tempted to try one herself.

“How about an extension on the paper?”

Maggie shook her head. “Already had one. This is it.”

“Okay, you'll just have to pull an all-nighter. Start with the paper, then I'll quiz you on the economics in the morning when I get up. Your class isn't until eleven, right?”

“Yes, but I'll never be able to stay awake, let alone produce anything coherent.”

“That's why I'm going to give you a little something to help you out,” Prin said. She went to her closet and took out her traveling vanity case, unlocking it with a small key. Maggie had wondered why Prin kept it here instead of in the luggage room in the basement, but hadn't really given it much thought. Prin took a vial of what looked like prescription medication and shook a small red pill into her hand, closed the container, put it back, and locked the case.

“Instant energy. Take it with some TaB, the caffeine will help, too.”

“What is it?” Maggie asked dubiously. Was this the secret to Prin's seemingly effortless success? She certainly didn't sleep much.

“An upper, something to speed you on your path to success.” Prin was laughing. “Come on, would I ever ask you to do something dangerous?”

Maggie popped the pill. It didn't take long. Soon she
was feeling on top of the world—and all her work. She breezed through the paper, and when she took her midterm the next morning it was as if she could see the answers printed in front of her next to the questions. She'd never felt this way before—totally self-confident with energy to burn. When she got back to the room, Prin was stretched out on her bed reading a biography of Mozart.

“Where can
I
get those pills?” Maggie demanded.

“Don't worry.” Prin got up and stroked Maggie's hair. “I have plenty. Now, my little dynamo, you'd better get some sleep. Take this one.”

Maggie opened her mouth obediently and swallowed.

“Sweet dreams,” said Prin.

 

“It's a complete anachronism and I don't want to be a part of it.”

“I can't understand what's gotten into you, Lucy! Your behavior during the holidays was totally unacceptable—staying in your room all the time. We barely saw you, and treating your brother's friend, Ned, so badly. Would it have killed you to go to the cotillion with him?”

“Probably.”

“That's not funny, young lady. And your grandmother is terribly upset that you're not going to be coming out. Frankly, I'm happy to be spared the expense. Your father is convinced you're on drugs. He says you were talking about going to San Francisco last summer. Nobody goes to San Francisco except hippies and, well, perverts.”

“Gays and lesbians, Mother? Is that what you mean?”

“I will not have you using that language!”

Lucy held the phone away from her ear. She was in the pay phone cubicle in the corridor. Gwen was on their room phone with Andrew, as usual, and so her mother had called the dorm number, furious after reading the note Lucy had sent home. There was no way she was having her father come for Sophomore Father's Weekend. She hadn't been able to stand the sight of him since that afternoon last summer and had not had to fake an illness to get out of the tennis tournament. She'd been sick for the rest of the summer. The doctor had thought it was a severe summer flu. Only Lucy knew what it really was. And Prin. Prin knew. She'd sent flowers, masses of Stargazer lilies. Their cloying scent had lingered long after Lucy had given them to the maid, telling her to keep them for herself or throw them out.

“Lucy, are you there? Answer me!”

“I'm here, Mother,” she sighed.

“Your father has already arranged to drive up with Ted Prince. They'll be there in time for the class dinner Friday night and they've made reservations for all of you for Saturday night at Locke Ober's. I'm sure there'll be space for some of your other little friends and their fathers—they've reserved one of the private dining rooms. You'll be back on campus in time for the dance. That weekend with my father is one of my most cherished memories. Someday you'll be glad I insisted. We don't live forever, you know.”

Lucy thought quickly. There was no way she was
going to get out of this, so she might as well
get
something out of this.

“I'll do it, but only if you agree to let me spend my junior year abroad. Not San Francisco, Europe. Pelham has several programs and I could also apply to some sponsored by other schools.”

“Are you blackmailing me?” Her mother's voice cut like a knife. Lucy winced.

“That's a very ugly term. No, I am not. This is simply something I want to do and have been thinking about for a long time.”

The last part, at least, was true.

“Paris?”

“Maybe Paris.”

“All right, then. But you'd better behave yourself.”

Whenever she found herself feeling sorry for her mother—betrayed who knows how many times?—Mrs. Stratton said or did something that was almost as over the top as her husband's behavior, and Lucy could only long to put as much distance as possible between them.

She said good-bye and hung up the phone. The phone cubicle was dark and cozy. She pulled her knees up on the seat and wrapped her arms around them. Lucy hadn't wanted to come back to Pelham, but she knew she had no choice in the matter. She could try to change dorms, but she'd still see Prin on campus. By the time she'd left for school after Labor Day, she'd determined not to let Prin win. That's what avoiding her would have meant. Instead, for a while she had been pleasant, even friendly, secretly delighting in the occasional confusion she saw on Prin's face. Obviously she'd expected—and wanted—
a different sort of response. But it was too hard to keep up the pretense and Lucy stopped. She began to watch the girl and the way she manipulated those around her. It was all a game, and the higher the stakes, the more Prin enjoyed herself. She had Phoebe as a trained lackey, totally in her thrall, happy to be included in Prin's inner circle. Lucy was sure Phoebe, so brilliant, was doing papers now and then for Prin. Rachel's brother, Max, was probably doing some, too, so they could spend more time together. He was very obviously infatuated. Lucy wasn't sure whether Rachel was on to Prin, and once or twice she almost asked her what she really thought of their classmate, but didn't. Lucy liked keeping her knowledge secret where it could fester, a canker of the soul. And what about Elaine? Did she know what her twin was up to, what she was really like?

Sophomore Father's Weekend. How incestuous could you get? Prin would dance with all the fathers, flattering them, flirting in that way she had, which combined childlike innocence with worldly sophistication. Prin could dance with Lucy's father all she wanted. Lucy wouldn't be dancing with him. As far as she was concerned both of them could rot in hell and the sooner the better. She remembered hearing that one year a girl's father had had a massive stroke on the dance floor and died. Maybe Lucy would get lucky.

 

“I need a favor, roomie.”

“Sure, Prin, anything,” Maggie said.

“I forgot to sign in last night and I need you to fill in the time.”

Maggie had been filing her nails. She looked up, aghast.

“I can't do that! Last night's sheets are already in the housemother's office. Only the house council member responsible for going over them has access to them. And it's not my week; besides, falsifying a sign-in would be more serious than not signing in. Tell us you forgot and went straight to bed, which you did, and all you'll get is campusing for two or three weekends. I'll recommend mercy,” she finished with a smile.

Prin walked over and sat on the arm of the easy chair Maggie was sitting in. It was a comfy one covered in bright blue and white chintz that Mrs. Prince had had delivered from Paine's; a similar one to Elaine.

“I have plans for next weekend and the weekend after. They don't include being restricted to campus. Plus, I don't like the idea of going before house council. Too tacky. It will take you five minutes. Go downstairs, open the file, put in the time—no one will have looked at it yet, it's only Monday and you don't meet until Thursday—close the file, and come back upstairs.”

“What if Mrs. Archer catches me?”

“Tell her you have a busy week and you're checking the sign-outs each day instead of having to do them all at once before the meeting.”

“But she'll know it's not my week. It's Claudia's turn.”

“Honestly, the moment I ask you to do one little thing, when as I recall I've been doing quite a few little things for you…” Prin stood up and walked over to her closet.

Maggie began to panic. She had no idea what was in those magic pills, but she'd needed them more and more frequently. If Prin decided to stop giving them to her, what would she do? Filling in Prin's missing time was no big deal, she tried to convince herself. She could go down now and make sure Mrs. Archer was out. It
would
only take a few minutes.

Prin was pulling out a light gold suede miniskirt and a white Victorian-style blouse with a high collar and ruffles.

“Max is taking me to Club 47. Tom Rush is there tonight.” She appeared to be totally focused on selecting an outfit, taking out a bright blue satin shirt and holding it up to the skirt. “I'd look like a Sunoco sign. Maybe I'll wear jeans and borrow Elaine's cashmere sweater. I can't think why Aunt Eleanor gave it to her when it's exactly the color of my eyes. Probably mixed up our packages after one too many martinis, or as she calls them, ‘martoonis.'”

“All right, all right,” exploded Maggie. “I'll do it, but while I'm gone you'd better be praying that I don't get caught. If I do, I'll have to resign from both offices and be on probation for the rest of the semester. Maybe worse. I could be expelled.” Her voice quavered with the last words.

“You won't be, sweetie, don't worry. After all, have I ever steered you wrong?”