In My Dreams I Hold a Knife by Ashley Winstead

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.

“Do you think it’s true what they say, that the frats line up on their porches and yell at us as we run? Do you think it’s true they throw things? What if absolutely no one wants us and we fall straight to the bottom, land in AOD or something? What if we don’t get Chi O?” Caro closed her eyes, breathing deeply. “It’ll be okay. Everything will be okay.”

What if I didn’t get Chi O?That was the fear haunting me. But I would get in; I had to. Getting in would be like getting my forehead stamped with the words beautiful, popular, best, so everywhere I walked, people would know.

Our Panhellenic leader handed Caro an envelope, then me.

Heather scooted closer. “Excited?”

“Uh-huh,” said Caro unconvincingly. I nodded, throat dry.

“This is our social destiny, right here in our hands!” Heather tossed her envelope and laughed, as if it wasn’t weighted with a thousand pounds of expectations. Because of course. I was learning there wasn’t a second of her life Heather didn’t feel supremely confident. It was intoxicating, normally. Now, I felt a stab of envy.

“All right, ladies,” the Panhellenic president called over the microphone. “The time is here. Open your envelopes; then you’re free to race to your new home on campus, where your sisters await you!”

Across the gym, squeals and the sounds of tearing. I pulled at my envelope, but it resisted me.

Next to me, Caro shrieked. “I got Kappa! Oh my God, Jess. I know it’s not Chi O, but I’m still excited!”

I didn’t have time to console her. Screams and sobs echoed through the gym. I pulled harder, finally tearing the envelope in half, clutching the beautiful engraved card inside.

Jessica Miller, we are excited to have you as a member of Kappa Kappa Gamma’s 2006 pledge class!

Kappa?Though I was sitting, the ground beneath me spun. A sob tried to escape, but I held it back. I couldn’t cry here. I wouldn’t. I needed to get out before what was building inside me exploded.

A shriek of happiness drew my attention to where Heather and Courtney jumped up and down together, their bridges long-since mended from Homecoming. “We’re roommates and Chi Os!” Heather crowed.

They’d gotten in and I hadn’t. Heather and Courtney. The room tilted.

“Jess, what’d you get?” Caro smiled, but her eyes were worried.

I thrust the card at her.

“This is perfect!” She threw her arms wide. “We’re in it together! Jess, this is great. Now we can do it side by side!”

I scrambled to my feet, ignoring her arms, and took off across the gym, dodging clusters of girls, some jumping with joy, others openly crying.

I burst free of the gym and broke into a run, going as fast as my legs would take me, ignoring the cold January air, the strange looks, the guy who yelled, “Wrong way to frat row, freshman!”

By the time I got to East House, I could barely see through the blur of tears. I’d failed. I was vaguely aware of passing Frankie and Jack in the quad, the two of them drinking beer and laughing in front of a suspiciously endowed snowman. But I didn’t dare stop, just darted inside and up the staircase—running smack into something solid. Arms reached out and grabbed me before I could topple back.

“Jess?”

I rubbed my eyes. It was Coop in his leather motorcycle jacket, probably on his way to wherever he always went and refused to tell us.

His hands were on my shoulders, warm even through my peacoat. He studied me. “What’s wrong?”

I shook my head. I really wanted to go to my room. Even if Rachel was there, I didn’t care. I would let myself cry anyway, and she would have to deal.

He rubbed my shoulders, and I couldn’t help leaning into him. “Seriously, you can tell me.”

“I didn’t get into Chi O,” I blurted out, unable to keep it inside any longer. “I preffed them but they turned me down, and now I’m a Kappa. I can’t believe I didn’t get it. What’s wrong with me?”

“This is about sororities?” Coop dropped his hands from my shoulders and stuffed them in his pockets. “You know that’s elitist bullshit, right? Why would you want to be part of that? It’s literally designed to make you hate yourself—that’s the juice the whole system runs on.”

That was the final straw. I burst into tears.

“Oh shit. You’re really upset. Okay, we can fix this.” Coop put his arm around my shoulders and opened the door to the third-floor hall. “Come on, let’s talk. You can tell me the mean things the Chi Os did, and then we’ll egg their house or something.”

“No,” I said, even as I let him pull me down the hall to his and Mint’s room. “I don’t want to bother you.”

He opened the door and ushered me in. I couldn’t help the ghost of a smile, even now, in their room. It was the perfect representation of how different Mint and Coop were: one side was masculine brown and blue, expensive sheets, swimming trophies, everything neat. The other was band posters and bright-pink sheets, crap strewn everywhere.

“Trust me”—Coop planted me on his bed—“you’re far from bothering me.”

He dropped his keys on his desk and walked to the door. “Stay right there. I’m going to get us root beer and Red Vines so we can get some sugar in your system. Those are your favorites, right? You’re always eating Red Vines when you study.”

I nodded, trying to keep the tears inside.

“Okay, be right back. Seriously, don’t move.” Coop slipped out and shut the door behind him.

Alone, I let myself cry. I didn’t understand what I’d done wrong. During rush I’d tried to tell myself not to get my hopes up, tried to hedge my bets, but it didn’t matter: I’d wanted Chi O with my whole heart. I’d pictured walking around campus with those letters on my chest, letting everyone know where I stood. Imagined telling my dad I’d gotten into the top sorority on campus. Presenting him with the irrefutable evidence: Look who I am. So good. Other people saw it and gave me this as proof.

The door swung open and I jerked in surprise. But instead of Coop, Mint stood in the doorway, staring. I scrubbed the tears from my cheeks, fingers coming away black with mascara. Oh, god. The day was only getting worse.

“Sorry,” I said, jumping to my feet. “I was hanging with Coop. I’ll go.”

“Hold on.” Mint swung his backpack to the floor, dropping his coat on his desk. “You’re crying.” He peered closer. “It’s sorority Bid Day, right?”

Of course Mint knew about Bid Day. He, Jack, and Frankie started pledging Phi Delt next week. It was a relief he understood the significance of what I was going through, but also an embarrassment, because he hadn’t had any problems shooting straight to the top.

“Come on.” Mint sat on his perfectly made bed and patted the spot next to him. I walked across the room and sat, looking at him out of the corner of my eye.

“I didn’t get into Chi O,” I admitted, the words painful. “I really wanted it.”

“Of course you did. What’d you get?”

“Kappa.”

Mint knocked my knee with his. “Kappa’s a good one.”

I looked at him. How was it possible that even here, midday in a dingy dorm room, his eyes were so impossibly blue?

“You don’t have to lie to me. We both know Chi O’s the best. Courtney and Heather both got in.”

“Heather?”

I swung to face him. “I know, right? I don’t mean to be rude, but…” I stopped. It was eating at me, chewing a hole in my heart. I wanted to say it out loud, but I wasn’t sure how Mint would react. What if he told me to leave, then told Heather? I took a breath, then took the plunge. “Why her?”

Courtney, I understood—of course she got Chi O, she was born for it. But Heather? Heather was barely pretty. Her forehead was too big. She was short. It’s not like she had stellar grades or was so much more popular. Being part of the East House Seven gave Heather and me equal standing, or so I’d thought. She came from money—was that it? Or was it the power of her loud voice, her confidence, her outsized personality?

It was a terrible way to think. I loved Heather. She made me feel brave, like there was nothing we couldn’t do when we were together. But I just couldn’t stop picturing her jumping with Courtney, laughing and waving the card that should have been mine. What if our spots had gotten mixed up? What if I went to the Panhellenic president and opened an inquiry, and they realized their mistake? I envisioned the president taking Heather’s card from her and handing it to me, the rightful owner.

No. Obviously, I couldn’t do that. But I felt so helpless. I wanted to do something to take control, take away the pain. The vision of Heather’s happy face cut at me.

“Look,” Mint said, putting a hand on my leg. “Chi O made a mistake by not choosing you. Show them that.”

“How?” Where we touched, my skin tingled.

“Kappa is number two, right? All you have to do is take the number-one spot from Chi O. Rush harder. Beat them at their own game. I’ll help you.”

“You will?”

He turned and faced me, cross-legged. I couldn’t help it—I pictured the scene in Sixteen Candles when Jake Ryan sits across the table from Molly Ringwald’s character, birthday cake between them, and tells her to make a wish. He was Jake Ryan, but in gold.

“Of course. Whatever I can do.”

I almost asked why, but didn’t want to ruin the moment. “Tell me something,” I said instead. “Something embarrassing.”

“What?” Mint looked taken aback.

“I just told you how I failed,” I said, “and now I’m sitting here feeling ashamed. Tell me something to level the playing field.”

Mint’s cheeks actually turned pink—was I witnessing him blush? I marveled at my power.

“Something you’ve never told anyone else,” I added, emboldened.

He studied me. I must have looked pitiful, because he blew out a breath. “Okay. I’ll tell you something I’m ashamed of, if you swear never to repeat it.”

“I swear.” The words were a binding oath. I could feel a string snap taut between us.

“My mom…” His voice caught, and he took another deep breath. I got goose bumps—he really was going to tell me something important, I could feel it.

“Last year, I found out my mom cheated on my dad.”

I gasped sympathetically.

“It was humiliating. She’d been cheating on him a long time, it turned out, with one of the members of the board of my parents’ company. Everyone found out. But she refused to stop seeing the guy. I expected my dad to end things, divorce her—hell, punch the asshole in the face. I was preparing myself to be a latchkey kid. But he totally folded.”

“What do you mean?”

“He was so weak. He didn’t even fight it. He let her walk all over him, let this other guy emasculate him. He cried for days and begged her not to divorce him, said she could keep seeing the guy, anything she wanted. Everyone found out about that, too, and now everywhere we go, people whisper about how my mom’s getting it from some other guy, and my dad’s a fucking cuckold.”

Mint’s voice had grown harder and sharper as he spoke. When he said cuckold, that strange, old-fashioned word, it was like jagged glass. I leaned back. “My dad’s the biggest coward. I hate him. Everyone at home talks about me behind my back, and it’s all his fault. At a dinner party my mom threw before I left for Duquette, he came late from work and I locked him out of the house. People were laughing and pointing at him through the windows. And you know what? Instead of feeling bad for him, I felt good. Really good. He was the loser, not me.”

“Mint, that’s terrible,” I said, unable to help it.

“Yeah, well. Now you know a shameful secret. Feel better?”

We sat in silence while I processed the fact that the perfect Mark Minter had such a messed-up family. I swallowed. “I think I hate my father, too.”

Mint had been studying his comforter; now, he looked up at me. “Really?”

“I think so.”

“Well, will you look at us. Two jerks who hate their dads.”

I laughed with relief, because of course Mint wasn’t a jerk, and if I was grouped with him, I was going to be okay.

“I can’t believe you told me something so personal,” I said.

“You asked me to.”

“Yeah, but…I didn’t think you’d actually do it.”

“Jess.” Mint blinked. “I like you.”

For the second time that day, the world tilted on its axis. Mark Minter liked me? Me, Jessica Miller? It was the most improbable of victories, like winning the lottery, or finding a golden ticket in your chocolate bar.

He swallowed, looking unbearably nervous, and I realized I hadn’t yet responded, lost in wonder. “I don’t believe you,” I said.

He cracked a smile, bright as the sun, and he was back to being the golden boy, shameful confession far behind him. “Why not?”

“Because you’re…Mint.”

He put his hands on either side of my face. “I like the way you think of me.”

I took a deep breath, smelling his cologne, orange and spices, and then he was pulling me toward him, kissing me with that beautiful mouth. It was slow and gentle at first until I scooted closer, rising onto my knees, and he deepened the kiss, tangling his hands in my hair. I pulled away, breathless. The most perfect boy in the world.

“I like you, too,” I said, the understatement of the century, and kissed him again.

A heavy thud made us wrench apart. I twisted to the doorway, heart racing. Coop stood there staring, Red Vines in his hand, two bottles of root beer rolling at his feet.