The Girl I Was Before (4 page)

“Boys and
Star Wars
. I don’t get it,” she says.

“Ohhhhh, do not bag on
Star Wars
. The force is not to be reckoned with. It’s strong with you,” I say, feeling the twitch in my lips as I try not to laugh at the way she’s looking at me.

“Wow. You just went all convention there on me, didn’t ya?” she says, waving her hand from side to side.

“I did,” I laugh, zipping up the last of my things and pulling my bag over my shoulders. She walks next to me all the way to the door, and I can’t help but think how much nicer she is when that asshat she’s dating isn’t around. I’m about to bring him up, when she speaks, stopping me.

“You don’t have figurines, do you? Please tell me you don’t have figurines,” she says, and I keep my eyes forward. I
may
have one…or three or four. I don’t remember. They’re in a box in Mom’s closet. But only because I asked her to hang onto them for safekeeping, and…

“Ohhhh my god! You have dolls! Like, figurines! You should meet my sister’s boyfriend. You two would so get along. He has a thing for teddy bears,” she’s talking fast, and there’s this smile on her face that I’ve never seen on her before. “What?” she asks, pausing in the middle of her
make-fun-of-Houston-fest
.

“Nothing, I just noticed…” I start, but then rethink where I’m going with this. Ah, what the hell. “I just noticed you have a nice smile. You don’t show that one a lot. You should; it’s….” I stop before the word pretty slips out, but that’s what I’m thinking. Paige’s smile is pretty.

“What do you know?” she says back, the smile gone and her defensive tone right back where I’ve grown used to it. I nod and make a mental note to add another second to my
think-before-talking
rule. “It’s not like you’ve seen me a lot, or even know me very well. You work at the deli counter. Whatever.”

I’ve never had my employment thrown back in my face quite like that, and I know I should be offended, but her backlash only makes me laugh.

“What?” she asks, still letting her anger rule her demeanor.

“You,” I say, and she furrows her brow, her eyes zeroing in on me as we near the parking lot. “That’s all I’ve got. Just…you. You’re…I don’t know. You.”

I click twice to unlock my car, then scan the parking lot looking for hers, but soon realize she didn’t drive here. She walked. And it’s dark outside, the sidewalks empty.

“You want a ride home?” I ask.

“I have a boyfriend!” She almost yells it at me, and I work hard, pushing my lips together with every bit of control I have as I try not to laugh.

“Wow,” I mouth. I can see her start to feel embarrassed. “I’m sorry. That’s…I know. I’ve met him, remember?”

She nods, rolling her eyes a little. She’s covering, and I’m going to let her.

“I just meant…it’s late. I don’t like the idea of you walking anywhere far—alone,” I say, pushing the passenger door a little wider.

“It’s not far,” she says, her face looking off to the side, her lips hanging open, her breath held along with her thoughts. “But…a ride would be nice. I’m just at the Delta House, on Main.”

“Easy enough. I’ll drop you off,” I say, pushing the door all the way open now. She slides in, her bag and purse on her lap. My car has one of those automatic seatbelts; it’s old, and I’m pretty sure it’s been recalled. Paige lets it fold over her before unraveling it from her purse and bag. Watching her through the closed door makes me smile. She catches me looking and shrugs her shoulders; I jog over to my side, toss my bag in the back, and start the engine.

“Your seatbelts are stupid,” she says, her lame insult catching that nerve in my mouth, making me smile again. It’s funny that those words come out of the same mouth that speaks perfect Spanish.

“So, why do you know Spanish so well?” I ask, doing my best to make small talk during the short ride.

“My dad speaks it. He’s a lawyer, and he’s done a lot of foreign contracts. He was learning the language when my sister and I were kids. So, for a year, he made our house completely bilingual. It made Spanish in high school a piece of cake. I tested out for full credit here,” she says.

“That’s so cool. I would give anything to have that luxury. I think the only thing I could test out of would be wrestling. And that’s not going to happen,” I say. Her eyes widen when I mention wrestling, and I answer the question before she asks. “I’m not on the team or anything. I had a chance…to wrestle in college. But, it just wasn’t the right fit. I want to focus on computer science and programming, and sports take up too much time.”

Her enthusiasm wilts so fast, I’d swear she punched me if I didn’t know there was no way she could get her arm out from that pile of stuff in her lap.

“You have a sister?” I ask. She was already looking out her window when I spoke, but something makes her focus away from me even more.

“I do,” she says, her voice softer. “We’re twins.”

“Wow. Twins. Did you do that thing in grade school where you switch places with each other and trick your teachers?” I ask, and she pulls her things in close to her body, bracing her hand on the door.

“It’s right there. You can just drop me out front,” she says, looking at the brightly-lit brick house, the bushes out front cut in perfect squares, outlining a long, green lawn. I slow as we approach the front walkway. She smiles with a closed mouth as she turns to face me. “Cass and I are fraternal. That wouldn’t work, we’re too…different.”

She reaches for the handle, pushing the door open and stepping out quickly. She turns on her heels at the curb, her hand stretched out, but barely touching the door.

“Thanks for the crash course,” I say, realizing the knots in my stomach from the anxiety over my test are gone—totally gone.

“Thanks for all the sandwiches,” she says, flinging my door closed and walking away. I indulge in watching the sway of her ass, and even though she was doing her best to insult me just then, she lifted the back of her shirt just now, and she knows exactly what my eyes are looking.

After a few seconds of being a perv, I push the car into drive and head home, flipping the lights off before I hit the driveway so I don’t wake up the house. I tiptoe inside, turn the locks, and climb the stairs—smiling at the small light I still see spilling from underneath my mother’s door. All these years, and she still has to wait up for me to make sure I made it home safely.

I’d love to shower, get the smell of salami out from my hair and fingernails, but I’m too tired. It’s almost midnight, on a Saturday. I haven’t been out this late for anything other than work in months. And I can’t say it was for a party or a date. No, it was for studying. Maybe I
am
one of those convention dorks. I rub my eyes and pull my pants and shirt off, tossing them by my door in the pile that I secretly love my mother picks up for me every day. I crawl on my hands and knees to the pillow, letting my face collapse into the coolness, and fall asleep with Paige’s voice rolling
R’s
in my head.

P
aige

W
hen nothing happened Sunday
, I chalked it up to the weekend. But then Monday came and went. And Tuesday, too. The anticipation of confrontation was almost worse than shit actually hitting the fan.

I’m so consumed with finding Chandra’s name on the campus news website’s gossip page, I almost miss it—
almost.

The headline couldn’t be more wrong, and the story is total bullshit. The home page of the news site is dedicated to my sister’s attacker. I scan it quickly, my heart racing that Cass’s name might be in there.

It’s not.

Paul Cotterman is my sister’s physics professor. He got a little touchy-feely during a tutoring session a few weeks ago, so Cass kneed him in the nuts and punched him in the temple.

Paul Cotterman is also Chandra’s ex—of course he is. Two gross people dating; what’s more perfect than that? I can’t believe they broke up.

I read the story all the way through, laughing out loud by the end over how innocent the quotes make him sound.

“Oh my god, did you read that? Isn’t that guy the one Chandra dated? I feel so bad for him,” says Ashley, a freshman who joined Delta when I did. Keeping my back to her, I let her glance over my shoulder at my laptop. I know if I turn around, I’m going to tell her to get the fuck out of my room, but I’m going to need allies when Chandra’s story comes out.

“Yeah, that’s the guy. But…I don’t know. I get a real sleazy vibe from him,” I say, my eyes penetrating his name on my screen.

“Huh,” Ashley says. “Not me. I think he’s super hot.”

I twist in my chair, but Ashley’s back is to me as she’s walking out the door—probably a good thing, because my rebuttal was perched on my lips, and it wasn’t nice.

She pauses at the door, and leans into my room with her hand gripping the frame; her head tilts so she’s looking at me upside down, like she’s about to start a back bend. “Delta meeting in ten minutes, by the way,” she smiles, then flips upright and rounds the corner.

My breath comes in slow and hard. It could just be an end-of-the-year thing. There are academic requirements to stay in the house—maybe it’s a grade check or announcement for study sessions through finals.

I close my laptop and slip it into my backpack, along with a few of my books. My classes are all done, and tomorrow is campus study-day. The only thing left is finals. I’m starting to think spending the rest of this semester at the library wouldn’t be a bad idea.

A month ago, I never wanted to leave my room. Now, it feels like a trap. It’s disguised as a place I should love. Looking at it now, I’m starting to think it’s all part of the plan, to lull me into a false sense of comfort until I break.

My room is purple, the furniture white with fancy trim. We all have special doorknobs—that’s sort of a thing they do for the girls who get selected to move in. Every Delta gets to pick a doorknob from the
Restoration Hardware
catalog. The girls who have roommates have to agree. But I’m alone, so I got to pick my own door décor. My knob is glass, with purple and silver swirls inside, cut like crystal. There’s a matching coat hanger—which I paid for on my own—mounted in the center near the top; I used half a month’s spending allowance.

Cass probably spent her money on granola bars and Gatorade, with lots of change to spare. I bought a hundred-dollar coat hanger. Now, I can’t help but fixate on it, noticing how small it is. The mount is made of iron, but the ball at the end is plastic. I chuckle quietly the more I think of how much it cost.

“Meeting starting,” someone yells from downstairs.

My small fit of laughter fades, and my frown feels heavy. I grab my bag, making sure I have my essentials inside—books, music player, phone, keys, purse, gum…yeah, I think that’s it.

The common room is pretty full by the time I get downstairs, so I plop my bag at the base of the steps and take my seat on the bottom stair, another girl standing next to me, leaning on the rail.

Chandra is sitting on the main sofa. That’s her seat—right in the middle cushion. Her jet-black hair shines against the purple velvet of the couch. It’s kind of pretty. Ashley is next to her…in the seat I usually take. A week ago, I think Chandra would have told Ashley to move. Chandra’s best friend, Talia, the vice president of our sorority, is on the other side. I wait for several seconds, just to be sure my instincts are right. In that time, I notice neither of them look up for me. They purposely avoid turning in my direction at all.

This isn’t going to be a meeting; it’s a public hanging. I need to decide if I want to slip my neck into the noose.

“Thank you for coming, ladies. I know we’re all very busy right now,” Chandra starts, and the room quiets faster than it does in any of my survey classes. I’m internally amused; Chandra commands more respect than a professor who won a laureate for helping guide the country through an economic crisis.

“Just a quick meeting; I promise,” she says, gazing over the room, never fully looking in my direction. I’m across from her, nobody in our path. And I can feel the rope slipping over my head.

“Tutoring hours have been posted in the kitchen. Please check to make sure you are taking advantage of any and all help the Delta House provides you. Remember, part of our dues goes toward ensuring academic success. And your success in the Deltas rests partly on your academic performance,” she says, her eyes crossing the room again in a sweep. I wait for her to stop short of me, like she did the last few times. But she doesn’t.

Chandra’s eyes stop right on mine; her lip raises the slightest bit, revealing her inner thrill of catching me. She knows. And I’m having a hard time breathing.

“Also…” she says, her eyes scanning to her left and right, but coming back to me. She’s pretending this speech is for everyone else, but it’s not. “I wanted you all to hear this unfortunate news from me first. There are some…well…
vicious
rumors making the rounds about me, along with some photos that are absolutely false.”

I’m careful here, my energy focused on keeping my lips in a flat line, my eyes on hers, my blinking normal. Nothing about my outside can show the absolute chaos happening within.

“What’s worse? These rumors…they started with one of our own,” she says, sparing a few glances to either side, coming back to rest on me. “Someone fabricated some pretty terrible things.”

Talia is nodding next to her, eating up every word, aiding Chandra’s performance. Ashley is chewing her nails; she looks like she’s about to cry, concerned for her leader. I want to vomit.

“This is painful for me to even ask,” she says, feigning concern.
She’s so fake! How did I not see this before? I had to have seen it. Maybe I just didn’t care.

“We’re going to begin our own interviews into this matter. I’m afraid we’re going to need to see everyone’s social media and the photos on your phones.” I pull my knees in and leverage myself so I can stand, lifting my bag over my shoulder—ready for whatever is about to come at me.

“Chandra?” I speak up, somehow finding my confidence. I need to keep this shit together; remember who I am. “You might need to get someone involved, like…legally. I’m pretty sure you can’t just ask to see someone’s personal information like that.”

When I’m done, I purposefully bend down and unzip my purse and reach for my mirror and lipstick, giving my hands something to do. Disinterested—I need to keep up the appearance as long as I can that I’m clueless to what this is about.

“If they want to remain a Delta sister, I can,” she says back fast. I notice my eyes grow a hint wider in my reflection. The entire room is aware of her tone; a few more heads have turned to look at me. She’s right. We all signed contracts when we joined, contracts that gave the executive board—a.k.a. Chandra—the right to examine things like our phones and social media to make sure we were representing the Delta House in the best light.

“Okay, well…I just wouldn’t want you to get
sued
,” I say, snapping my mirror shut and touching my finger to the corners of my mouth before pulling my lips into a tight smile. Chandra is looking back at me with the exact same expression.

While the rest of the sisters start their rounds of gossip about which one of us is the cause of all of this, I pull both straps of my backpack over my shoulders and move to the door. I’m almost to the porch when Ashley catches up to me.

“Oh my gosh, you don’t think they’re really going to look at
everything…
do you?” she asks, her eyes wide, the blueness framed by the spider legs of her eyelashes. If I’m still here next week, I should really pull her aside and do her makeup.

“I think Chandra is going to do whatever she wants to do. But I wouldn’t sweat it. Unless you have something on your phone you don’t want them to see,” I say, letting my eyes linger on hers for a few seconds, just enough to catch the gulp in her throat and the small glint of panic. I know I’m the only person being targeted for snapping a druggie pic of Chandra. I can’t help but smirk knowing Ashley has something on her phone too.

“They’re starting the interviews now. They can’t tell if I delete something…can they?” she asks.

I shrug. How the hell do I know what they know how to do? Maybe she has nude photos. I don’t know. I can guarantee that’s not what they’re interested in uncovering. I could tell her that right now—allay her fears—but I don’t, because as much as I think Ashley’s a nice girl, I know she’d sell me out in a heartbeat just to get into that inner circle. I know, because I did a lot of selling out to get there too.

Ashley is clutching her phone at her side, her thumb rubbing nervously over the edge. I open my mouth to almost erase her anxiety…
almost.
Instead, I curve it into a smile before turning and stepping down the porch to the front walkway.

“Where are you going?” she asks. “Chandra’s going to wonder where you are.”

“I just have an errand to run. They won’t even know I left,” I say over my shoulder, my cool face quickly growing hotter, more worried with every step I take toward the road. When I glance back, Ashley’s gone inside.

I pick up my pace until I hit campus, turning down one of the more-narrow paths behind the literature building, and ducking around a corner where a few picnic tables are lined up. My nose is running from the chill outside, and the corners of my eyes are watering. I’m not crying, but I’m so shell-shocked my eyes can’t seem to find the power to blink.

What the fuck have I done?

These are the kinds of things sisters go to each other for—but I don’t have that luxury. My real sister wouldn’t answer my call, and my sorority sisters aren’t really interested in helping me. Honestly, at this point, I’d be willing to call my sister’s friend and roommate, Rowe. We aren’t very close, but she’s surprisingly a really good listener. She left campus, though—something about a family emergency.

“I am actually, really, totally, and completely—alone,” I whisper aloud, my chest constricting with a single laugh over the fact that I could have screamed those same words, and nobody would have heard me.

There’s a text on my phone—I see the small icon of red lips and know it’s Chandra. I swipe her message open.

Yeah, I probably am. But I’m not in the mood for it right now. I pick up my things and push off the bench, dusting the dirt from the back of my pants. I walk through the empty walkways of campus. Today was the final day of classes, and a lot of them were cancelled in lieu of studying time for finals. I notice a few people sitting along the edge of the main fountain, which is really more of a statue now that they’ve turned the water off in preparation for winter. Sometimes, it snows here.

I let my feet take over, shuffling slowly along the walk to the library door, and I welcome the rush of heat on my face when I step inside. The library is empty too. Spectacular.

My legs keep going until I reach the grouping of chairs and couches to the left. Dropping my bag at my feet, I let myself fall into one of the lounge chairs. It’s not the same one Houston sat in, but it’s close. Of all places, I came
here
. I pull my biology book out and flip through a few of the pages, not really needing to study anything at all. Most of my classes feel like repeats of my senior year of high school, and if I don’t have the parts of the cell memorized after two straight years of charts and diagrams, then I don’t deserve to get a diploma.

I toss the book on the table in front of me, and shut my eyes, bringing my fingertips to my temple and rubbing.

“No book throwing in the library, ma’am,” a voice says, startling me. I blink my lids open, and when I realize Houston is standing in front of me, I feel a strange sense of relief.

“What are you doing here?” I sound bitchy. I immediately regret how that came out, and I regret it more when I see him jump back and grimace at me. “Sorry. I’ve had…am
about
to have…a really bad day.”

“It seems to me if you can predict it’s coming, then you can probably prevent it,” he says, taking the seat across from me, kicking his feet up on the block table in front of us, and resting his backpack on top of his knees.

“Not this one, I can’t,” I retort, laying my head to rest on the hard wood of the chair. I stare at the ceiling, waiting for another response from Houston. There isn’t one, and the longer we sit in silence, the more I wonder why the hell he’s still here in the first place.

“Do you need something?” I ask as I flip my head forward, my eyes on him wondering why he’s looking at me. Has he been staring at me this entire time? God, I hope my chin doesn’t look fat. Is that what he was looking at? And why do I care what he thinks about my chin? He’s…he’s deli guy. I mean, he’s
hot
deli guy, but he’s still the stupid deli guy.

“No, uh…no,” he says, pulling his feet back to the ground in front of him and moving his bag along his shoulder as he stands. He runs his hand forward through his hair, into his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I just saw you and wanted to thank you. You know, for studying? Then you looked kind of sad…”