Chapter 20
Malena
Imade my way out of my American Lit class, deciding to spend the rest of the day and probably most of the night catching up on the semester’s reading.
Since we came up empty at the library yesterday, I reminded myself that the Keller Award wasn’t the only thing at the top of my to-do list. Winning was a priority, but so was my rigorous course load—the one that would get me into medical school.
Waiting by the doors where I planned to meet Cora, one hand tucked into his joggers as he leaned against the wall and scrolled on his phone, was Kash. His brows jumped when he looked up and saw me coming. “Mal.”
I stopped and gave him an expectant look. “Kash, what’s up?”
It had been less than a week since our not-date at Biscuits on the Bay, and with how busy my days were at the moment, I’d forgotten all about it. Plus, I was having trouble thinking of anyone other than Conrad, which was its own new kind of problem.
“I wanted to apologize.” He shifted his weight between his legs, looking at the ground and then over my shoulder. “That probably wasn’t what you’d been expecting.”
“To be honest, I’ve hardly given it any thought.” I gripped my books against my chest.
Even after Conrad managed to flip my mood, it took hours of binge-watching a juicy Korean drama to pull me out of my humiliated funk. But I wasn’t going to let him know that.
“Nara…” He looked around. “She’s a friend, and she can be protective, that’s all.”
“Got it,” I said curtly. This was feeling less like an apology and more a justification, but whatever. “Anything else?”
“Wanna try again? Just you and me?” he asked. “Casual, like last semester.”
It would appear that I failed at whatever ass-backward test brunch was, just as I’d thought. And yet, relief eased down my body.
“Maybe,” I answered instead of the no I wanted to say. Because saying no felt like locking myself out of something. I wasn’t sure what, exactly, but I didn’t want to take that risk.
He opened his mouth, but we were interrupted when Cora barreled over.
“Mal!” She looped her arm in mine and didn’t even acknowledge Kash. “We have fifteen minutes.”
“I’ll text you,” he called as we hurried out the door.
I gave him a lazy wave over my shoulder, not bothering to look back.
Cora didn’t ask me about Kash on our walk home even though I was sure she was curious. But we were both pretty excited for our weekly call with Sabrina.
When we walked in, she scurried into the kitchen for snacks while I set up my laptop.
“Did he at least apologize?” Sabrina asked five minutes later, after Cora finished summarizing her version of my conversation with Kash. Every friend group needed one person who wasn’t afraid to make waves for the good of the group, and for me and Sabrina, that was Cora.
“Sort of.” The words came out more like a question. “He asked me out again, casual this time. His words.”
Cora froze and her mouth hung open. “What a little bitch.”
“Honestly, I don’t even care,” I admitted. Flings-only had always been fine with me. “Either way, I don’t have time right now between school, the MCATs, and my article.”
“The one that has her playing some game with the other rich kids all over campus on Saturday,” Cora cut in with a wolfish grin. “And, of course, the cute guy Mal is definitely not into.”
Sabrina’s eyebrows waggled. “What did I miss?”
“There’s nothing going on,” I insisted, regretting telling Cora about my weekend plans. The game that would not be their rendition of The Most Dangerous Game. Technically I still had one more event he agreed to let me go to. “Really, nothing.”
“Cora?” Sabrina looked at her for confirmation.
“They may not have fucked, but she wants to,” Cora reported.
“So… sleep with Conrad and get it out of your system…” Sabrina answered from the other side of the screen, like it was obvious. “You may not even be compatible. Sexually, I mean.”
Thoughts of his hands on my waist and his lips pressing against mine flashed through my mind. “It’s just a crush. Chemistry. A base-level attraction that’ll pass in a week. Anyway, he’s a deeply unserious trust fund baby.”
The words were bitter as they left my mouth, because I knew he was more.
“A sexy one,” Cora supplied unhelpfully.
I pushed a frustrated breath out through my nose.
I could use some sex. I hadn’t had any since that night I went home with Jake the lacrosse player earlier this semester.
Between my school work and the article, my sex life had dwindled.
And the vibrator under the false bottom in my nightstand was putting in too many hours.
“Once the article is submitted, I’ll sleep with him,” I decided, slapping my hands together resolutely. I could fuck away whatever this feeling was. It’d never sprung up before, but I was sure a physical release would satiate it. “No mess. Neat and orderly.”
The two-Malena system worked because I was organized. A fling followed by a clean break kept the lines clearly drawn.
“Hot,” Cora drawled.
“Anyway…” I took a deep breath.
“I met a guy,” Sabrina interjected, giving me a sympathetic look and the reprieve I needed.
Cora looked at me then Sabrina and shrugged, just as happy to move on to the next juicy topic. “Have sex with a cute accent.” It was an item on Sabrina’s semester abroad to-do list. She winked at the laptop screen and added, “Check?”
“Not yet,” Sabrina answered. “We can talk about that after we hear about your leafing trip plans.”
Cora’s parents always took her on a trip for fall break. This year, they were going to Vermont to see the leaves change. It was sweet, and I envied the relationship she had with them. They knew everything about her, and I knew she confided in them almost as much as she did Sabrina and me.
I wondered what that was like. As far as my parents knew, I walked the straight and narrow, stayed in on the weekends, and aced all my classes. And they still found a variety of things to be upset about.
“You joke now, but we’ll see who’s laughing when I’m up to my ears in fresh maple syrup,” Cora shot back, dipping a popcorn kernel in hot sauce and throwing it into her mouth with a laugh.
On Saturday morning, I met the Scroll parties; hell, even their own campus traditions.
“The Button.” Azalea snapped her fingers and looked up at me. “On campus.”
“The sculpture?” I asked.
It was a giant crimson button commissioned by the school years ago.
That sculpture, along with a dozen others, made up the Artist’s Walk on the west side of campus.
Along a circuitous cobblestone path that connected the different arts buildings, the sculptures ranged from bronzed statues to modern abstract works, like The Button.
“Yeah, The Button,” she said, like I should know what she meant. When I stared blankly, she continued. “It’s society tradition: the first person to have sex there without getting caught wins.” She looked back down at the next riddle. “We need to go there next… I’m an arts major, so I’m sure of it.”
Azalea tore the next card open.
“Sex under The Button?” I grimaced; I was all for trying new things, but that couldn’t be hygienic.
“Under, around…” Azalea’s head bobbed. “It’s more of a dare, but the first one to do it wins.”
“Wins what?”
“Nothing. But it’s a good story for the journals.”
It made a lot of sense the longer I was around. “Seems to be the case with most of these games and excursions.”
Each member would document them in their journal. And those stories would probably bond them together when they went out into the real world and needed the connections.
It all proved my point. Meritocracy was ultimately a myth too. And probably not one that would become real like the catacombs had.
“I have a question for you.”
“Mm-hmm.” She studied the next note.
Conrad glanced over from where he was talking to James and Ishani and I quickly looked away. Until he was no longer filed in the “cannot fuck yet” column, I needed to steer clear of him and those autumn sweaters he favored.
“What did you mean when you said you were surprised that you got an invitation?” I looked back to Azalea.
“Oh.” She paused for a second as we reached the smaller quad where the sculpture was located.
“Sorry, I-I didn’t mean to pry, I was just curious.”
The Scroll & Ivy members thought I was here as a personal request by Sabrina. It wasn’t as though I interacted with any of the other members at Winchester, so I understood her wariness at my presence… unless it was something else?
Her eyes flickered around the yellows and reds that painted the trees as we resumed our slow crawl down the cobblestone path. “We’ve been in the papers. My dad has…”
“Oh. Sorry,” I said quickly, immediately regretful. How had I already stepped on a landmine? I really needed to get some more background from Sabrina on these people before I put my foot in it again.
“It’s fine, it involves his company, but when the FBI started seizing assets, I assumed the alumni committee might go the way of the country club board and revoke my membership.”
I winced. As an outside observer to their world, it seemed as though some scandals—like cheating—were perfectly fine or at least tolerated. But losing money? Why did it not surprise me that a line would be drawn there.
“My grandparents, my mom’s parents, they’ve been really nice,” she chirped with levity, like she was trying to cheer me up. To assure me that she was fine. “They’re helpful with tuition and stuff.”
“That sounds tough,” I empathized. Nobody should pity an old-money heiress, but I recognized the sound in her voice down to my bones.
It was the unique melancholy of being outside of a world you thought you’d be welcome in.
“I assumed admission to secret societies went down bloodlines, like heirlooms and IBS.”
She squeaked a laugh. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Do what?”
“Be nice about it. I know how lucky I am.”
“It’s not being nice,” I lied, but this time it was an attempt at a good deed. I linked my arm in hers. “I’m great with puzzles. You’re an art major,” I parroted her earlier credential. “And you’re great with the lore. I propose a strategic alliance.”
“For glory.” She notched her chin up and smiled. “Can you stay once Sabrina gets back?”
I laughed. “I think the rules say every class is capped at fifteen people.” I pulled my arm back and held both hands up, gesturing a scale balancing back and forth. “Fifteen juniors, fifteen seniors.”
“Well…” She sighed. “We make the rules, right? Why not change them?”
I smiled at the absurdity of it.
Rules were rigid, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy the occasional loophole.