“So you three were tight?” he asked her. “And now, it seems, maybe not.”
“Yeah, something like that,” Betsy said, first describing Ginny, how close they were, but she explained that when she left the sorority it put a strain on their friendship. Ginny interpreted Betsy’s criticism of the way things worked at the house as a criticism of her, which it was, in a way, but she knew they could get past it. Caroline was less understanding, and started mocking Betsy’s “new life/new look” approach to starting over, telling her that her wardrobe downgrade made her look like a homeless twelve-year-old boy. Things between them were limping along until just after spring break, when Betsy met John. Caroline knew that Betsy had a thing for a tennis player from New Jersey named John, despite the fact that he was a business major and had a girlfriend from back home who went to a real college in New England. Betsy met him at a party and she fell for him, hard. They made plans to study a couple of times, but Betsy was too subtle for John, and unwilling to ruin the long-distance girlfriend’s life, so they became friends, as a consolation prize. Caroline, who met him with Betsy once in the stacks of East library, was more aggressive. That the two of them started hooking up on the sly shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but that she was so mean about it to Betsy was shocking, even for Caroline. Betsy showed up at Caroline and Ginny’s apartment on a Tuesday night, unannounced, with her well-worn Seventh Sign videotape in hand (she found the combination of late-1980s Demi Moore and clumsy religious apocalypse imagery irresistible). She found John the tennis player in Caroline’s room, on the bed, cramming for an Econ midterm. When he saw her, he stuffed his book in his backpack, grabbed his shoes, and squeezed awkwardly past Betsy in the hall, as she stood there mute, filled with rage. Never had she felt so stupid and betrayed.
“Nothing happened between you two. Nada,” said Caroline, jumping to defend herself before Betsy could speak. “What’s the big offense? Did you pass him a note and ask him to check the box? This isn’t seventh grade, Betsy. You may have liked him, but you never touched him, so he’s totally fair game.”
Betsy stormed out of the apartment, humiliated, feeling more naive than ever. It wasn’t the first time she had been angry with Caroline, but it was the first time they stopped speaking.
Three-way calling was a novelty, and Caroline used it prodigiously in her schemes. When she got bored and mean at night, she’d put mortal enemies and venomous exes on the phone together while she sat holding the mute button, giggling wildly.
“Hello,” said Betsy.
“Hello,” said John.
“Who’s this?” asked Betsy, fearing the worst. Melissa had her own phone line at the house, and only Caroline and Ginny knew she was staying there and had the number.
“What do you mean who’s this? You called me.”
“I didn’t call you. You called me.”
“Is this Betsy Young?” he’d asked, his tone growing hostile.
“Holy shit, it’s John, isn’t it?” Only Ginny and Caroline knew she was staying at Melissa’s. Only they knew the number.
“You should know since you just called me.”
“Listen, I didn’t call you. It’s Caroline. She three-wayed us just to torture me.”
Of course, he didn’t believe her. He was too stupid to suspect anyone of such bizarre and pointless mischief. After the third time it happened in a week, he called her a psycho and a stalker, threatened a restraining order, and slammed down the phone. When Betsy confronted Caroline and suggested, just a suggestion, that she may have a problem, like a sociopathic problem, Ginny was the mediator.
“Caroline, what is your deal?” shouted Betsy. “Jesus, you have no mercy. Zero. You’re like a serial killer or something.”
“Oh my God, you have completely lost your sense of humor,” she replied. “John the limp-dicked jock with the virginal girlfriend in New Hampshire is a waste of my time and yours. If you weren’t so earnest all of a sudden you’d play along.”
“Guys,” Ginny pleaded, “can we please just stop? You can’t throw away our friendship over some guy in madras shorts. He is way too impossibly boring for that.”