I AM WAY TOO SOBER to be balancing a huge wreath of fake fruit on my head.
The costumes Jess came up with for us turned out to be perfect, each of us able to pick out swim suits that complement our figures along with colors that look best on us. My tan is contrasted next to my bright yellow one-piece with a deep v-neck that goes all the way down to just between my hips, showing a little cleavage and my flat stomach. The arches of the fabric on the legs are high, too, giving my thighs and butt some action.
Although most people have no idea what we were going for and keep calling us “the Fanta girls,” we look hot, and that’s what matters most at a college Halloween party.
Well, usually.
I don’t really care to draw attention to my body anymore, not when the desire to have someone touch it died right along with a part of me the night of formal last semester. I haven’t gone a day without remembering that night, without reliving it — not since it happened. I wonder if there will ever be a day that I won’t remember.
Shaking the thought from my head, I reach for my Bubba Keg from Spring Break last semester, taking a long pull from the straw as I kick back in my small beach chair. It’s just water, but no one has to know that. I’ve done a pretty good job of evading shots up until this point, claiming I have to keep my head on straight and not party too hard with elections coming up soon. No one has pressed me.
The day is just as perfect as our costumes, the sun peeking in and out between fluffy white clouds as a breeze rolls onto the sandbar from the water. Hundreds of students litter the sand, some soaking up the sun while others play drinking games. All the Alpha Sigma boats are anchored down around the sandbar, swaying over the waves, loud music coming from each and every one of them. Half of the party is on the boats, the other half spilling out into the water and up onto the sandbar. Everyone is dressed up, having found ways to creatively turn classic Halloween costumes into beach wear, and even though it’s just past two in the afternoon, most of the attendees are already smashed. The event turned out amazing, and I know Adam must be proud.
I want to be a president like that.
“The Vamps and Tramps boat is handing out Jell-O shots!” Jess screams excitedly, catching her breath from where she’s jogged over from the other side of the sandbar. She reaches down for her own Bubba Keg in the chair next to me, draining it. “Come on. They’re delicious.”
She grabs my hand but I laugh, pulling back from her grasp. “Pass. Trying not to get completely tanked, remember?”
Jess pouts. “You don’t even seem buzzed.”
“Oh, I am,” I lie, squinting my eyes before pushing my sunglasses up onto my head. “Drunk eyes. About to take a nap in this chair.”
She laughs. “I’ll probably do the same soon. Your tan is looking amazing, by the way.”
Smiling, I put my sunglasses back on and nod toward where Ashlei and Skyler are playing a game of flip cup in the middle of the sandbar. “You should grab the other Fanta girls, though. Skyler can use all the shots she can stomach after what happened with Bear.”
“Ugh, what the fuck was that, anyway? Skyler won’t say a word about it.”
“No idea,” I answer. “But she’s sad, so we should try to distract her with booze.”
“My specialty,” Jess says, wiggling her butt a little as she skips away. “You should at least come hang out on the boat!” she calls back behind her.
“Be there in a sec!”
I watch her run off, grabbing Ashlei and Skyler from their table on the way to the boat she’d pointed out. With a sigh, I reach for my phone, pulling up Kip’s name before I know what I’m doing.
- Hey, stranger, long time no talk. -
I stare at the text, finger hovering over the send button. I’m not sure why it’s him I want to text, or why he’s the person I want to comfort me, or why I even need comforting at all. We haven’t talked in almost four years, and I’m fine. Classes are going great, I recruited the best KKB class our school has seen, and I have a plan to get revenge on Landon.
But still I feel so… empty.
Numb.
I’m not myself, and I know I’m not the only one who’s noticed it. And since I’ve pushed Clinton away and all the girls have their own drama to deal with, I’ve successfully isolated myself — especially after ditching out on my birthday.
And maybe this is for the best. Maybe, like my mom taught me, there’s power in not leaning on anyone, in not exposing my weak spots.
No one knows what happened last semester other than Clinton, and I think he finally understands that I’m not going to talk about it. And I do feel marginally better each day… or at least, it’s easier to pretend I do. Maybe this is my skin thickening, my scar healing even more, that shiny pink skin stretching and tightening to form a hard shell.
Every time I’ve given in before, I’ve been taught a lesson on why I shouldn’t. Drinking and partying leads to bad decisions, which leads to horrific consequences. I don’t want to experience them anymore.
And if that means being a loner, then so be it.
I have the presidency to focus on, anyway. In a little over a month my sisters will vote on who will take my Big’s place, and if I have anything to do with it, there will be a clear choice.
Me.
So, instead of joining Jess, Ashlei and Skyler on the boat, I lean up to adjust the back of my chair and flip over onto my stomach to even out my tan.