“Sure,” Carrie said.
Cadence nodded and grabbed her biology textbook from her book bag. The others followed suit. She did a lousy job concentrating on the study session because her mind could think of nothing but attending a frat party. The idea was exciting and terrifying. She had no clue what to expect. She didn’t think it was like the one high school party she attended. She wasn’t sure it was a world she should enter, or even peek inside.
But then again, wasn’t this part of the college experience she felt she was missing out on? And Carrie did say she’d look after her. Not that Cadence planned to get crazy. Maybe just a few drinks. You know, to loosen up. She thought about her wardrobe. What do people wear to frat parties? That was probably a conversation she should have solely with Carrie. Michael would tease her.
“Earth to Cadence!” Carrie said, waving her hand in front of Cadence’s face.
“Huh?”
“Where have you been? You’re, like, the worst study partner ever,” Carrie replied.
Cadence shook her head. “I’m sorry.”
“Gosh. We’re trying to get a good grade on this test tomorrow. Pay attention and contribute,” Michael added.
“Uh huh,” Cadence said.
“What in the world are you thinking about?” Carrie asked.
Cadence paused.
“What do girls wear to frat parties?”
Even drunk, Cadence was lucid enough to recognize the mirror image staring back at her. Gracie’s face sported a full smile—that stupid, drunk smile of a girl who unintentionally invites trouble. And they came flocking. Three of them. Big burly boys who surrounded her and pretended to find her jokes funny.
Cadence knew Gracie attended North Atlanta University, but so far, she’d been fortunate enough to avoid her. They shared no classes, and she didn’t so much as glimpse her once on campus. It was a bit of a shock, however, to see her at a fraternity party. Plastered. That wasn’t good Christian Gracie, but Cadence recognized the tired, clichéd story: Good Christian teen stays out of trouble until college. Then goes berserk.
“Michael, maybe you should go over there and get that girl,” Cadence said. She had to enunciate her words very carefully to keep from slurring.
“Huh?” he asked, preoccupied with another blonde on the couch.
“That girl over there.” Cadence pointed. “Gracie.”
“Who the hell is Gracie?”
Cadence huffed and jumped up from the couch. She stumbled sideways, and a girl was nice enough to catch her before she fell.
“Thank you,” Cadence mumbled, then walked slowly and steadily to the corner of the room where Gracie was trapped.
“Cadence!” she squealed. “Don’t you looooove college?!”
“It’s dope,” Cadence replied, and the boys laughed.
Gracie attempted to redirect their attention. “Cadence and I went to high school together.”
“Oh, that’s cool,” one boy said. “You two friends?”
“Not really,” Gracie said. “She’s kind of a bitch.”
“Whoa,” the boys said in unison.
“‘Tis true” fell out of Cadence’s mouth. What the fuck? she thought. ‘Tis?
The boys cracked up.
“Gracie, may I talk to you for a second?” Cadence asked, ignoring the laughter.
“About?”
“It’s private.”
“Whatever you have to say, you can say it here.”
Cadence bristled. “I’d rather not.”
Gracie giggled. “You’re funny when you drink. You say silly things. ‘‘Tis’ and ‘rather’. You’re a dork, Cay.”
Cadence’s heart clenched. She couldn’t remember the last time she heard “Cay” come out of Gracie’s mouth. She couldn’t remember the last time she even talked to Gracie.
“Why are you drinking?” Cadence asked.
Gracie rolled her eyes. “Because it’s a party. Duh.”
“Yeah, I know it’s a party, but you don’t drink.”
Gracie snorted. “Whatever.”
“No. Not whatever. You don’t go to parties, and you don’t drink.”
“Well, now I do. Okay? What’s it to you, anyway?” Gracie snapped.
“Come hang out with me,” Cadence urged. The room spun the slightest bit. Enough to force her hand on the wall for support.
“Why the hell would I hang out with you?”
“To make up for tattling on me,” Cadence replied.
“Tattling?” echoed one of the boys.
Cadence regretted using that word. She thought the three musketeers liked it too much. They were grinning from ear to ear, staring at her. She expected them to start panting, tongues hanging out, drooling everywhere. Suddenly she was grossed out.
“I’m a grown woman. I don’t tattle,” Gracie spat. “And anyway, you deserved it!”
“Deserved what?” the redheaded guy asked.
“I think she’s referring to me deserving the punch in the eye my dad gave me after she told him I was sleeping with my math teacher.”
A chorus of “hell no’s” and “what the fuck’s” echoed throughout the living room.
One of the boys turned to Gracie. “Girl, that’s heartless.”
Gracie shrugged. “I was trying to save her.”