Another hour went by, or maybe two or three. The sky was so dark that it was impossible to tell how time was passing, unless you measured the minutes by the number of drinks you had. I lost count after seven, but my hand was never empty. The younger students retreated to the Hall, weaving through the trees, laughing and swearing as they tripped over protuberant roots and spilled what was left of their beer on themselves. Fourth-years of every discipline and a few precocious third-years lingered. Someone decided that the night couldn’t end without everyone soaking wet, and slippery, wobbling chicken fights had begun.
After a dozen rounds, Alexander and Filippa were the reigning champions. They looked more like one creature than two, Filippa’s long legs wound so tightly around Alexander’s shoulders that they could have been a terrifying set of Siamese twins. He stood waist-deep in the water, barely swaying, gripping her knees. Unlike Meredith, his drunkenness was obvious, but it only seemed to make him invincible.
“Whozenext?” he yelled. “Undefeated, that’s what we are.”
“If someone defeats you, will you call it a night?” James asked. The rest of us sat in the sand, our bare feet at the edge of the water, forgotten drinks hanging heavily from our fingertips. The air was unseasonably temperate for October, but cold waves nipped at our toes, a forewarning of approaching winter.
Alexander listed to the left and let go of Filippa’s leg to point at us; she grabbed for his other hand to keep from falling off. “’Sgotta be you guys,” he said.
I shook my head at James. We had been happy to heckle and cheer them on as they thrashed the remaining third-years.
Meredith: “Well, I’m not getting back in the water.”
Filippa: “What’s the matter, Mer? Afraid of a little rough play?”
The thirty or so onlookers hooted and whistled.
Meredith: “I know what you’re doing. You’re baiting me.”
Filippa: “Duh. Is it working?”
Meredith: “You bet, bitch. Bring it on.”
People whooped and Filippa grinned. Meredith stood, brushed the sand from her backside and called over her shoulder, “Rick! Let’s teach these morons a lesson.”
Richard, who had deigned to come down to the beach but was sitting a yard or so behind the rest of us, said, “No. Make a spectacle of yourself if you want. I’m staying dry.”
Another round of laughter, meaner this time. (Meredith was much admired but also much envied, and any misstep of hers was jealously savored by at least a few.)
“Fine,” she said, coolly. “I will.” She grabbed her skirt and tied it up in a knot high on her hip. She waded into the water, turned, and said, “Coming, Oliver?”
“What, me?”
“Yeah, you. Someone has to help me sink these idiots, and James sure as fuck isn’t going to do it.”
“She’s right,” James said, blithely. “I’m sure-as-fuck not.” (Unlike the rest of us, who were all attracted to Meredith in some biological, unavoidable way, James seemed to find her overt sex appeal somehow repulsive.) He smirked at me. “Have fun.”
Meredith and I stared at each other for a moment, but the fierceness of her expression didn’t make refusal feel like an option. People I didn’t even know shouted encouragement at me until I climbed, a little sloppily, to my feet. “This is a bad idea,” I said, mostly to myself.
“Don’t worry.” Wren nudged James with her elbow. “I’ll make him fight the winners with me.”
He protested, but I didn’t hear what he said because Meredith had grabbed my arm and was dragging me into the water. “Get on your knees,” she ordered.
“I bet she says that to all the boys,” Alexander said. “Have you no modesty, no maiden shame, / No touch of bashfulness?”
I glared at him as I crouched down in the water. The cold nearly knocked the wind out of me, seizing onto my stomach and chest like a sheet of ice. “Jesus,” I said. “Hurry up and get on!”
“I bet he says that to all the girls,” Filippa said, with a wink. “Perforce I must confess, / I thought you lord of more true gentleness!”
“Okay,” I said to Meredith, as more lewd laughter bubbled in my ears. “Let’s kill them.”
“That’s the spirit.” She swung one leg over my shoulder, then the other, and I nearly toppled her right off. She wasn’t heavy, but I was drunk, and I hadn’t realized quite how drunk until just then. She hooked her feet under my armpits and I straightened up slowly. There was a smattering of applause as I tried to find my balance, wishing the water would stop pushing and pulling at me. Some of the stage blood loosened from my skin and snaked down my abdomen to my waistband.
Colin, our cocky young Antony, seemed to be the acting referee. He sat straddling the overturned canoe, double-fisting Solo cups. “Ladies, keep your claws to yourselves,” he said. “No plucking out of eyeballs, please. First to knock a girl in the water wins.”
I struggled to focus on Alexander, wondering how to upend him. With Meredith’s thighs wet and glistening on either side of my face it was difficult to concentrate.
“Fie, fie!” Filippa said, delightedly. “You counterfeit, you puppet you!”
“Ay, that way goes the game,” Meredith said. “How low am I, thou painted maypole? Speak!”
“Oh, when she’s angry she is keen and shrewd!” Filippa replied. “She was a vixen when she went to school!” More scandalized laughter.
“Will you suffer her to flout me thus?” Meredith said. “Let me come to her!”
And we lurched forward. I wove underneath Meredith, fighting to stay upright. The girls grappled violently, the churning water and Alexander’s manic laughter loud and disorienting. Meredith lost her balance, and the shift of her weight pulled me sharply backward.