“It’s my song,” Frankie said, skidding onto the dance floor behind Jack, losing his balance so fast Jack had to grip him to keep him upright. Without losing a beat, Frankie whirled to Caro and lifted her by the waist. “Has anyone told you you’re tiny?”
“But mighty,” Mint said, stepping up behind them with another bottle of whiskey, his cheeks flushed, eyes bright. Drunk. “Our East House spy.”
“Sweet saboteur!” Jack crooned.
I eyed Mint, nodding at his whiskey. “The Phi Delt brothers sure love you.”
He shrugged, but couldn’t contain his grin. “They love all of us. You’re probably a lock for Chi O, by the way. After today.”
What a stark contrast. Yesterday, I’d been old Jessica Miller. Today, I was the girl in the expensive dress, one-seventh a star, a future Chi O pledge. I thought of Duquette’s promise: We will change you, body and soul. Maybe it was happening.
Heather spotted Jack and stopped spinning, her eyes focusing like he was the only person in the room. She walked to him and stretched out her hand. Jack looked uncertain for a second, then took a deep breath and walked toward her, reaching out.
“The whiskey,” she said. He froze, nearly fumbling the bottle as he snapped his hand back and replaced it with the whiskey. Even the darkness of the room couldn’t hide the high color on his cheeks.
Heather took a swig from the bottle, then held it out again. She was smiling her cat-and-canary smile. “For courage,” she said.
What was she up to? The perennial question.
Jack made for the bottle, but she grabbed his hand and pulled him in. Right in the middle of the dance floor, with all of us watching, Heather kissed him, whiskey bottle in one hand, Jack’s face cupped in the other.
“Finally,” I groaned, and Frankie whistled so loud I was sure Jack would wrench away and bolt. Mint turned to me, grinning, and opened his mouth to say something, but just then the music hit a crescendo, the bass vibrating through the floor, and Frankie yelled, “This is my favorite part!”
Instead of speaking, Mint grabbed my hand and spun me, the black dress fanning out in a perfect circle. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Caro laughing with Frankie; Jack and Heather finally pulling apart, their heads still close.
“Where’s Coop?” I yelled, against the rising music.
Mint turned and pointed to the back door, which led off the dance floor to a courtyard. “Where else?”
I looked. Sure enough, there stood Coop, in the corner of the courtyard with two other guys. He was deep in conversation, listening to one of them talk. Absently, he pushed a hand through his hair, tucking it behind his ear. I watched a strand curl up rebelliously, but he didn’t seem to notice. Only me.
Here I was, in the middle of a crowded party, in a private room of my own.
But my looking pulled at him, and he turned.
“Coop!” yelled Caro, jumping in time to the music, even as it sped. “Come dance with us!”
“Don’t be a loser!” Heather yelled.
Jack lifted his bottle. “We have whiskey!”
“I’ll get naked again,” Frankie boomed. “If you ask nice.”
Coop laughed and shook his head, turning back to his conversation. I took a deep breath and yelled, “Come on, Coop.”
He turned and raised his brows. I raised mine. A challenge. Suddenly he was slapping one of the guys’ hands, passing something between them, and walking in the door, cutting across the dance floor. Caro and Frankie whooped; Jack grinned with the whiskey bottle outstretched. And inside me was a feeling I barely recognized, one I didn’t have words for. The closest might have been Look what I can do or Oh, what have I done.
But Coop didn’t come to me. He walked straight to Caro, pushed past Frankie to grab her hand and spin her, making her laugh. The feeling inside me turned into an arrow—
Mint seized me just as a boy burst from the foyer onto the dance floor, wearing our banner over his shoulders like a cape, and everyone jumped back, clapping. The song was climbing toward its climax, toward the top of the hill, and we were laughing, the seven of us, jumping, arms brushing. I could see their faces, shining in the dark. And I think I knew, even then, that it would never get better than this. I think some part of me could sense—even here in our triumph, in our wild, perfect beginning—the small seeds of our destruction.
Chapter 6
January, freshman year
Terror and anticipation: the world’s most potent chemical cocktail. Before Bid Day, I’d never witnessed so many girls about to expire from it in my life. The basketball court in the gym was packed, wall to wall, with squirming, shaking freshmen, some talking a mile a minute, others deathly quiet. Caro and I represented both camps: she couldn’t shut up, and I couldn’t manage a word.