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“You’re right,” I said, and grabbed a jacket from my duffel. Moving toward the door, I bent over to pick up the bottle, then wrapped it up so that it was concealed. “I’ll spare her. Just this time.”
She had better things coming her way.
“You’re too nice.”
“That’s what you think,” I chuckled, opening the door. We went out into the hall. “I’m kidding. I just don’t want to be accused for something I didn’t do.”
The hall wasn’t as dead as the night before. Seemed as though everyone got their partying jitters out of their systems. The smell of weed floated down the hall, and as we turned, I spotted an RA barreling up to a group of boys smoking it in the corner. Clutching the jacket close to my chest, we managed to squeeze past the scene.
“Sucks for them,” Tara giggled, and I joined in with her laughter as we reached the elevators. Then I remembered something, and guilt rode through me. I just had to ask.
“Do you smoke?”
Tara looked at me, raising an eyebrow high, as if she were shocked to hear that question.
“Isn’t it obvious?” she said. “I mean, I’m a total hippie.”
“Sorry,” I replied, stepping into the elevator. “I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just… after I met you, Vivian told some stupid joke about how you were growing weed under your bed, or something.”
“She did?” Tara threw back her head in laughter. “That’s funny. Not a bad idea, either.”
“Pretty crafty, actually,” I agreed, letting out a mentalphew. “But enough about her. Who’s this friend we’re meeting up with later?”
“He’s an upperclassman,” Tara said, shyly sweeping her hair back from her face. I raised my eyebrows. We reached the ground floor, and the doors whooshed aside. “Sophomore. His name’s Kenneth.”
“Ooh, Kenneth,” I said, lightly punching her in the shoulder. “Going after older guys are we?”
“More like the mature ones.”
We entered the lobby. It was funny that we’d both felt the need to dress up our faces for a night on the campus dining hall. Other girls stood around in bunches with full faces and skin-tight cocktail dresses, as if they were heading out to clubs or bars, neither of which we were allowed to set foot.
“What’s with all the glam?” I whispered to Tara.
“Sororities,” she replied with a bit of contempt in her tone. “They start recruiting this evening.”
I narrowed my eyes at the girls. “Really? Already?”
She blew a braided lock of hair from her face as we exited the building. “Yeah. They’re, how do I put this, pretty prevalent around here.”
Before we stepped outside, I turned my head to get one last glance and the groups of glittering, high-heeled students to find a few of them staring back at me. One of them snickered and whispered something to the group.
“Just throw it in there,” Tara said, nudging my arm. We were standing in front of the quad now. I followed her finger as she pointed to a ramp leading to a driveway at the side of the dorm building.
Those girls hadn’t been looking at me. They’d been looking at the jacket in my arms.
Was smuggling the bottlethatobvious?
“Right,” I said, quickly veering off toward the ramp while Tara waited.
Of course, I couldn’t have been the only one who used the old wrap-the-bottle-in-an-inconspicuous-piece-of-cloth trick to avoid being caught. Once I reached the bottom of the ramp, I spied the overflowing dumpster container leaning against the side of the building. I walked up to it, stuffed it deep into the opening, and quickly turned to head back up to the quad as if nothing had happened, tossing the jacket over my shoulder.
“Good Samaritan, you,” Tara giggled as I returned huffing and puffing from the climb back up the ramp. “Now let’s eat.”
“Please.”
The dining hall was a straight walk across the quad, and it was pretty empty by the time we’d arrived. We piled food onto our plates and had no problem finding a couple window seats.
“So,” I said, once we’d been sitting for a minute or so, as twirling a clump of spaghetti around my fork. “What exactly did Vivian do? You know, back in high school. What was she like?”
