Chapter 5
Mallory
Harvard University
Twenty-One Years Before the Outing
“Is he dead?” Mallory asked, staring at the Harvard boy hanging beside the largest dorm room in Straus.
Ilena slid closer and placed a finger under his nose. “Sleeping.” She pursed her lips, anger drawing lines around them. “Such
male privilege. As if a woman could ever fall asleep duct-taped to a wall. Arrogant bastard.”
“Still . . . male arrogance isn’t all bad. I mean, we won the bet.”
“Yeah, we did.” Ilena grinned.
This boy of at least a hundred and fifty pounds with a smattering of freckles and an abundance of hubris underestimated them.
All he’d seen were legs, breasts, and flowing hair despite the fact that both Mallory and Ilena had gotten into Harvard just
like he had.
When Ilena had given him the terms of the bet—their small dorm room on the first floor in exchange for his double the size of a quad with its own bathroom and two sinks—he’d snickered and held out his hand to shake, ready to be duct-taped to a wall.
Ilena was wicked smart and a bit devious.
Mallory had underestimated her too. Somehow, Ilena knew that the duct tape would hold.
She bet that it would, saying they’d do the boy’s laundry all semester if it didn’t.
And now this pompous boy’s new roommate wearing a hoodie so low it skimmed his nose was mumbling under his breath and carrying Ilena’s luggage and Mallory’s box and duffel up these four flights of stairs.
Mallory turned to this girl she couldn’t wait to get to know better. “Let’s say he were dead . . .”
“Okay,” Ilena said, not skipping a beat, and Mallory thanked the Harvard dorm lottery gods a thousandfold.
“Right, so he’s dead. Are we the kind of friends who’d help each other hide a dead body?”
“Not yet,” Ilena said. “But here’s hoping.”