Heather shook her head vehemently. “Jack told me…a lot. Shocking things. And Jess knew about it for an entire year. I can’t believe she kept this from me. I have to find her.”
Aha. Courtney seized her opportunity. “That doesn’t surprise me. Jessica’s never been a very good friend.”
Tears spilled down Heather’s face, taking her mascara with it. “God, this was supposed to be the best night. A celebration. And now I feel like my entire life is falling apart. I thought Jack and I were going to get married.”
The sight of Heather openly crying tugged at Courtney’s heart. “Hey,” she said sternly. “Don’t waste your time crying over someone who didn’t respect you enough to keep his dick in his pants. He’s the one who lost you. So don’t get sad—get over it. Hell, get even.”
Courtney patted Heather on the shoulder, proud of herself for such a good speech. “Now go clean yourself up in the bathroom. You’ve got mascara everywhere. It’s ridiculous. Your face looks like a Jackson Pollock painting.”
Heather wiped her eyes. “Thanks,” she whispered and left for the stairs.
With Heather gone, Courtney stepped back into the center of the room. She eyed Mint near the keg and strode over, fanning her hair over her shoulder. Just as she was about to reach him, a big chest stepped in front of her.
“Was that Heather?” Frankie asked. “She’s not leaving the party, is she?”
God. The insufferableness of the East House Seven. Like a damn cult, all of them so wrapped up in each other they were practically in love.
“Calm down,” Courtney said, rolling her eyes. “She’s just going to the bathroom. She’ll be back in a minute.” Pathetic.
“Good,” Frankie said, straightening the lapel of his suit jacket. He grinned at her. “Tonight’s going to be a big night for her.” He glanced around and lowered his voice. “Don’t tell anyone, because I’m not supposed to say, but Heather won Sweetheart. I’m really glad. She deserves it.”
The floor dropped out. She grabbed Frankie’s shoulder to steady herself. “Heather?”
“Yeah, great, right?” Frankie frowned. “Am I missing something?”
Courtney swallowed hard, feeling like she was going to throw up. “Who was…runner-up?” If Frankie said Jessica, she was going to light this frat house on fire.
“Oh,” Frankie said, looking suddenly guilty. “You were. Sorry. That was a dick move to tell you Heather won like that. I never think before I say things.”
She was runner-up. Close, but no crown. It was almost like it had been ripped right off her head. Courtney forced herself to smile. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s just a stupid tradition. Who cares?”
She left Frankie staring at her guiltily and grabbed a Solo cup, pumping the keg to give herself time to think. Heather? How had Heather beaten her? Put the two of them side by side and there was no comparison. Heather was lucky to even be a Chi O. She’d probably only gotten in because she was Courtney’s roommate. She’d been lucky to date Jack, and look, she couldn’t even keep him loyal.
How had this happened? And how could she fix it, turn it around, make the night go the way it was supposed to?
An idea came to her. It was wrong, of course, but no more so than Heather winning Sweetheart instead of her.
Courtney pulled the pills out of her purse and found the darkest corner of the basement, where there was a stumpy radiator, and no one was watching. She poured the pills onto the radiator and, glancing around just in case, crushed them with her phone. Swept them into the beer, mixed it with her finger. She stared at the cup for a second, then dumped two more pills, ground them, and brushed them in. There. That would do.
You couldn’t crown a passed-out Sweetheart.
It made sense, in a funny way, that her pills would help her with this. Courtney would never forget her mother standing beside her in the full-length mirror the night before her first day of high school, closing Courtney’s hand around a single white pill. She’d pinched the baby fat poking over the waist of Courtney’s jeans and said, “This little thing is going to save you.” Their eyes had met in the mirror, and Courtney’s mom smiled a conspiratorial smile. And she’d felt in that moment like she was being let into some secret club, some tight circle where she and her mom would be closer than ever, not just mother-daughter, but two women. Her mom had winked. “It’ll get you everything you want. Trust me.”