“I don’t make the rules. You want to come in, you have to be accompanied by a freshman female.”
There’s a scuffle. Elbows, pushing. Tamra jumps to the head of the line, the cluster of red--faced guys. “Hey.” They all turn. “Six freshmen, right here,” she says.
Once inside, they lose the guys.
. . .
17
Haley
Tamra, known as “T” to her friends, corners Haley at breakfast.
She’s just sat down, is looking forward to tucking in to some seriously good banana pancakes drenched with syrup, when Tamra slides her tray across the table.
“May I join you?” she asks as she settles into a chair.
I have a choice? Haley refrains from asking. Instead, she smiles politely.
Soccer and all its demands had insulated her from the Tamras of MacCallum College. Haley had arrived for pre-season, two weeks before freshman orientation, to a team full of insta--friends, unlike the NARPs on her hall, all searching for their tribe. Haley watched as they spent weeks trying on different people, sorting out where they fit in. They’d all been warned that this was part of the process of going to college and they had to be patient. But knowing didn’t make it easier.
And people like T definitely made it harder.
It was like they spoke some secret language, or knew the club handshake that signaled One of Us. It wasn’t spoken. It wasn’t seen. You might think it was money, but there were rich girls who didn’t make the cut, and you might think it was looks, but several of T’s besties were practically barking. It was something more akin to unquestioned confidence. Entitlement you could practically smell, like a fragrance.
And like a fragrance, it was impossible to grasp. You just waited to see if you were one of the anointed, one of the Pack of T.
Or not.
“So how are you?” Tamra begins. She rips open a Splenda and tips the contents into her black coffee.
“Good. You?”
Tamra raises one finely arched eyebrow. “That makes one of us. So I guess it’s true? You didn’t get the letter?”
Haley wills her face into a Carole Patterson – like expression of blankness. You want to keep the upper hand with T. “What letter?”
Tamra glances around, then leans in closer. “About the investigation. What Jenny is saying?” The second eyebrow arches.
That was quick.
Jenny had warned her: stuff was about to get real. Jenny had to make a list of “witnesses,” anyone who could shed light on what happened at Conundrum that night. Those names would be given to an investigator, who would interview each person individually.
Those interviews probably wouldn’t happen for a while. But the notifications that you were on the list for questioning? Right away.
Haley imagines someone like Tamra would be none too pleased to find herself on that list.
“No,” Haley says, “I didn’t get a letter. But I do know about the investigation.”
Tamra’s face lights up. She gets out of her chair and moves to the other side of the table, alongside Haley. “So what’s going on? The letter was sort of vague. A lot of stuff about violating community standards, blah blah, but it definitely mentioned Jenny’s name and that she’s charging somebody with . . . what? I think it said ‘sexual misconduct’?”
Haley’s mind races. Is even this, simply acknowledging the fact of the investigation, off--limits? As Jenny’s advisor, is she supposed to get up and walk away right now, or tell Tamra, “Sorry, sworn to secrecy”?
There’s only one surefire way to get the Ts of MacCallum to ignore you: make them think you’ve got nothing they want.
“Like I said, Tamra, I didn’t get the letter, so I don’t know what’s in it.”
“But you do know what’s going on.” Not a question. Tamra waits.
“Actually, you probably know a lot more than I do,” Haley says. “Remember, I was getting my head examined while you were all at that party with her. So you tell me. What went down?”
Tamra scowls. “Here’s what went down: Jenny disappeared. Poof! We all pregamed in my room, walked together to Conundrum, and at some point everyone lost track of her. Vivian wanted to move on to a different party, we couldn’t find Jenny anywhere, so we left.”
Haley feels a warm flush on her cheeks. “What, you didn’t text her? Find out where she was?”
Tamra seems unfazed by this question. “None of us has her number.”
“So you ditched her? At an upperclassmen party across campus, practically back in the woods?”
“Hey, we figured she ditched us! We thought she got mad and left.”
“Why would she be mad?”
Tamra rolls her eyes. “Oh . . . drama. Marliese hooked up with the guy Jenny had her eye on. This sophomore named Brandon Exley? He’s the one who invited Jenny, but he barely paid any attention to her once we got there. So when we couldn’t find her, we figured she’d gotten pissed and left. But hey, all’s fair, you know? Not Marliese’s fault the guy preferred her.”
“Jenny and Marliese competing for the same guy? In what universe?”