eyes.
“I broke three fingers falling down a slope on my
snowboard last year, didn’t stop me from playing volleyball.” The guy shrugged,
and his friend, another of the orientation leaders, picked me for his team.
Really, all I had hoped for was to make a few
friends; some of the guys were good-looking enough, but I wasn’t looking
specifically for someone to go out with . I wanted guys
I could hang out and watch the game with, who I could play a quick pickup game with . Not someone to make sheep eyes at me and tell me I was
beautiful. So I played my heart out, hip-checking anyone who got in my way,
ducking under the taller guys’ blocks and not even stopping when someone’s
guard tripped me up and I face-planted on the coated-asphalt court. By the end
of it, one of the guys on my team had lifted me up onto his shoulders,
proclaiming me the undisputed VIP of the game, which we’d won by one
point—though it wasn’t scored by me, I’d knocked over the guy who was blocking
my teammate.
Jeremy talked to me after the game. “I’m a member of
Phi Kappa Alpha, you heard of us?” I had nodded; I didn’t want to seem too
eager, but I was definitely interested in getting to know some of the guys from
a frat with such a bad reputation. “We’re throwing a party tomorrow night, you
should come out.” I was only too willing. Jeremy gave me his number and told me
to text him before I got to the frat house—he would vouch for me at the door.
I’d left after that to get cleaned up and ready for dinner at the dining hall,
but I was pleased with my success. At least, I thought, I’d have a chance to
get to know some people who were on my level.
I showed up a few minutes after the party started,
and texted Jeremy like he told me to. When I hit the
door, he was waiting there for me. “Who’s the tasty dish?” the pledge at the
door asked. Jeremy laughed.
“This is Mia Johns. She helped me and some other
guys slaughter in the game yesterday.” The pledge raised an eyebrow, looking me
up and down. I didn’t dress up like a girly-girl, but I knew I was looking
good; I’m average height and slim, with blonde hair down to the middle of my
back and blue eyes I inherited from my dad. I was wearing a low-cut tee shirt
and jeans with an unzipped hoodie, but I’d taken the trouble to put on a little
bit of makeup; I didn’t want to look like a total slob.
“Ah, come on, you’re pulling my dick,” the pledge
had said, shaking his head at me.
“Show him your knee,” Jeremy suggested. I tugged my
pants up and showed the bruise and scrape I had taken in my face-plant,
shrugging it off. It was starting to purple up nicely—and it was obviously the
kind of injury that you could only get from going hard at something, not the
kind of ditzy injury a girl would get running into her bed frame or falling off
of the couch. The pledge handed me a red cup of keg beer and Jeremy led me
around the frat, introducing me to any of his brothers we ran into. “This is
Mia Johns,” Jeremy told each of them. One of the guys had been at the game the
previous day, and remembered me.
“Ah, yeah, you’re the demon child from the court!”
He told me to pace myself and handed me another cup full of punch. I laughed.
I’d been drinking at parties since I was fifteen; I knew how to handle my
alcohol. I did pace myself, but as Jeremy kept a tally of my drinks for the
night, holding onto my cups as I emptied them, his frat brothers had gained
more and more respect for me.
I finished up the night talking hockey stats with
one of the upper leadership members of the frat, holding my own on the subject
of the Calgary Flames while he tried to argue that the Canucks were clearly the
better team. By the next day I was an established unofficial member of the
group, with a spot on the couch open to me whenever I came by. Nobody treated
me like one of the bunnies who came over, which I was glad for; I didn’t want
to be friends with the guys
“I broke three fingers falling down a slope on my
snowboard last year, didn’t stop me from playing volleyball.” The guy shrugged,
and his friend, another of the orientation leaders, picked me for his team.
Really, all I had hoped for was to make a few
friends; some of the guys were good-looking enough, but I wasn’t looking
specifically for someone to go out with . I wanted guys
I could hang out and watch the game with, who I could play a quick pickup game with . Not someone to make sheep eyes at me and tell me I was
beautiful. So I played my heart out, hip-checking anyone who got in my way,
ducking under the taller guys’ blocks and not even stopping when someone’s
guard tripped me up and I face-planted on the coated-asphalt court. By the end
of it, one of the guys on my team had lifted me up onto his shoulders,
proclaiming me the undisputed VIP of the game, which we’d won by one
point—though it wasn’t scored by me, I’d knocked over the guy who was blocking
my teammate.
Jeremy talked to me after the game. “I’m a member of
Phi Kappa Alpha, you heard of us?” I had nodded; I didn’t want to seem too
eager, but I was definitely interested in getting to know some of the guys from
a frat with such a bad reputation. “We’re throwing a party tomorrow night, you
should come out.” I was only too willing. Jeremy gave me his number and told me
to text him before I got to the frat house—he would vouch for me at the door.
I’d left after that to get cleaned up and ready for dinner at the dining hall,
but I was pleased with my success. At least, I thought, I’d have a chance to
get to know some people who were on my level.
I showed up a few minutes after the party started,
and texted Jeremy like he told me to. When I hit the
door, he was waiting there for me. “Who’s the tasty dish?” the pledge at the
door asked. Jeremy laughed.
“This is Mia Johns. She helped me and some other
guys slaughter in the game yesterday.” The pledge raised an eyebrow, looking me
up and down. I didn’t dress up like a girly-girl, but I knew I was looking
good; I’m average height and slim, with blonde hair down to the middle of my
back and blue eyes I inherited from my dad. I was wearing a low-cut tee shirt
and jeans with an unzipped hoodie, but I’d taken the trouble to put on a little
bit of makeup; I didn’t want to look like a total slob.
“Ah, come on, you’re pulling my dick,” the pledge
had said, shaking his head at me.
“Show him your knee,” Jeremy suggested. I tugged my
pants up and showed the bruise and scrape I had taken in my face-plant,
shrugging it off. It was starting to purple up nicely—and it was obviously the
kind of injury that you could only get from going hard at something, not the
kind of ditzy injury a girl would get running into her bed frame or falling off
of the couch. The pledge handed me a red cup of keg beer and Jeremy led me
around the frat, introducing me to any of his brothers we ran into. “This is
Mia Johns,” Jeremy told each of them. One of the guys had been at the game the
previous day, and remembered me.
“Ah, yeah, you’re the demon child from the court!”
He told me to pace myself and handed me another cup full of punch. I laughed.
I’d been drinking at parties since I was fifteen; I knew how to handle my
alcohol. I did pace myself, but as Jeremy kept a tally of my drinks for the
night, holding onto my cups as I emptied them, his frat brothers had gained
more and more respect for me.
I finished up the night talking hockey stats with
one of the upper leadership members of the frat, holding my own on the subject
of the Calgary Flames while he tried to argue that the Canucks were clearly the
better team. By the next day I was an established unofficial member of the
group, with a spot on the couch open to me whenever I came by. Nobody treated
me like one of the bunnies who came over, which I was glad for; I didn’t want
to be friends with the guys
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