Chapter 18
Nina was surprised to discover that after four weeks of Monday night dinners, she had somehow unintentionally learned the words to the dinner blessing.
She had also learned the words to what she couldn’t stop calling their “profession of faith” after Dalil had called it that, jokingly.
The bit about believing in her sorority, in the sanctity of sisterhood; the things Nina did believe in, sort of, but mostly knew she had to say in order to cross the finish line that was initiation, the reinvention of herself.
(Dalil said that as a lapsed Catholic she felt she was uniquely skilled for this sort of thing, the numb recitations and excessive ceremony invoking body and blood.)
Since their evening of intoxicated confession, Nina had gotten so accustomed to the presence of her pledge sisters that she no longer felt so blistered by the mercurial nature of Fawn’s attention, and was thus a little taken aback on the next occasion they spoke.
Nina had stopped by the house to pick up the day’s little sis gifts—a week of charitable gift-giving from a mysterious Big Sis (almost certainly Tessa) wherein each of the pledges was showered with cozy socks and rich chocolate truffles and bath bombs that made her skin smell like dessert, the exact opposite of everything the media had led Nina to believe about the treatment of pledges—when she heard voices coming from somewhere in the corridor beside the kitchen.
One was older, an adult. The other was noticeably angrier.
“Isn’t the point of all of this that we get a right to choose?” demanded the second voice. “How are you any different from everything else holding us back?”
“You’re telling me you think what Caroline’s doing is rational?”
“No, I’m saying it’s Caroline’s choice to do whatever stupid thing she thinks is worth doing. I mean, would you be this mad if it was sex work? If she was selling her content on OnlyFans, would you call her a slut?”
“Fawn, please. This isn’t slut-shaming.” Now the adult voice sounded irritated.
“What Caroline is doing is diving down an insane alt-right pipeline that has actual repercussions for the rest of the women in this very house. You think the fucking Country Wife is inspiring a generation of women who’ll fight for their reproductive rights?
And she’s from Dallas! If anyone should know how draconian abortion bans can get—”
“You’re our chapter advisor, Alex, not our career counselor. It doesn’t matter what you think of our decisions. You don’t get to choose our futures, or how are you any different from the very same male politicians you claim to hate? When we graduate, you essentially vanish into obsolescence.”
“I’m not telling Caroline what she can and can’t do. I’m asking you, Fawn, as president of this house, to take accountability for the alumnae programming you bring into it.”
“I’m not saying I want Caroline to come and give a lecture, but if she’s just asking to drop by at dinner and introduce her book—”
“Get Exec to vote on it.” The adult voice was clipped now in addition to annoyed. “Let’s see what Alina has to say about this ‘trad wife’ shit.”
Nina sensed a shift in the conversation, like a gauntlet had just been thrown.
“Alina may not like Caroline, but she still understands the fucking concept of, like, freedom of speech—”
“Let me know how the vote goes. And make sure your pledges are ready for initiation, okay? That’s your job.
They are your job. You owe nothing to Caroline.
Do you understand?” There was a pause, and then the adult voice added, “If I were you, Fawn, I’d choose my battles carefully.
Come December, it’ll be your throne that topples, not mine. ”
There was an unclear mumble in response, then footsteps.
Nina ducked into the dining room and out of sight, heart quickening as she heard the front door open and fall shut with the telltale signs of the adult presence leaving.
Then, just as Nina prepared to venture back into the hall, she felt the nearness of someone else in her periphery.
“Hey,” said Fawn, her mouth tight with irritation. “Want to get a drink?”
Nina swiveled to look at her, surprised. “What, now?” It was three in the afternoon.
“Yeah.” Fawn seemed fidgety. “Before anyone else sees and tries to come with. Come on.”
She turned swiftly and headed for the back of the house.
Nina, laden down with a giant poster of an incomplete family tree, set her things down in an unclaimed corner of the dining room and followed hastily, unintentionally holding her breath when she realized they were passing the kitchen into the carport behind the house.
Fawn unlocked her car, an ice-blue coupe, with her phone. Nina slipped into the passenger side without a word. “I know you overheard us,” said Fawn as she shifted into reverse, pulling out into the back alley behind the house. “That was Alex, the chapter advisor.”
“Oh. Yeah, I gathered.” Nina had met Alex briefly, back when Alex had introduced herself to The House at a dinner early on in their new member period.
They’d had a roast chicken that night with crispy skin, meat that slid off the bone, alongside tiny, delicate Yorkshire puddings into which Nina had ladled a gravy so smooth and delicious she wanted to drink it straight.
By comparison, Alex hadn’t left much of an impression.
“The thing is,” Fawn sighed, parking the car at the big-box grocery store nearest to campus, “I fucking hate Caroline. But she’s my GrandBig—my Big Sis’s Big,” she explained unnecessarily to Nina, who could put two and two together, “and, like, all those followers … that’s not nothing, you know?”
It was true Nina had no idea what it took to achieve success as an influencer.
She had a sense, as someone who’d come of age on the internet, that what was viral about Caroline probably had something to do with her face or boobs, which didn’t seem to be Fawn’s point.
Fawn didn’t have any social media herself, which made sense to Nina—it went unsaid that a large part of Fawn’s general mystique was the fact that her face and thoughts and life were not available for consumption.
Instead she was … not to be insufferable, but an experience.
An asset, too valuable to simply give away, unbranded and more importantly, unbrandable—above the fray of algorithmic grift.
But Nina had enough self-preservation to know these were the thoughts of an idiot, and anyway, Fawn was still talking, so she kept it to herself.
“I just don’t like the idea that Alex gets to decide what’s appropriate for any of us,” Fawn continued.
“Like, I don’t personally think Alex has it all, you know?
She’s just another lawyer with a kid. So what?
She’s not some revolutionary act of feminism.
She’s literally the institution. She’s not changing anything—she’s just playing the same losing game.
Like, we lost abortion rights under her watch, you know?
Not her personally, but you get the point.
” Fawn slumped down in the driver’s seat, not getting out of the car.
Then she turned to Nina. “Anyway, I’ve been meaning to check on you. Feeling ready for initiation?”
Nina wanted to contribute something to Fawn’s argument, though even with Jas constantly in her ear, she couldn’t think of what. She didn’t know any of the details; had nothing reasonable to offer in response. So she cleared her throat and said, “Yeah, I think so.”
“Good. Great.” Fawn smacked a hand onto the steering wheel in ongoing frustration, a clear sign the tangent hadn’t taken root.
“Ugh. I’m sorry.” She exhaled swiftly. “I’m in a shit mood.
Midterms. This shit with Alex. Getting ready for initiation.
” She shook her head. “I don’t want to burden you with it, it’s just—”
“It’s not a burden.” That much felt natural to say, and quickly. Nina twisted in her seat to face Fawn, who scrunched up her nose in disagreement. “Seriously, it’s not.”
“I’m your president,” Fawn said bitterly. “I’m supposed to be, like, better than this.”
“You’re perfect,” said Nina, who corrected quickly, “Like, perfect for the job. And I think it’s cool that you can be real with me,” she added.
“Well, I do love mess,” Fawn said with a grimace.
“No, seriously, it’s—I mean, you’re great.
” Nina felt her cheeks flush. “And you obviously care so much, and that’s …
yeah.” Way to stick the landing, she thought resentfully.
“If you want to talk about it, I’m here.
” She looked at Fawn then, trying to express it in a meaningful way, something that was sincere and rare and not just some kind of sad, sycophantic pledge crush.
Rush crush, she thought. Girl crush.
“Ha, well, let’s just get through initiation first before I unburden myself all over you.” Fawn gave her a meaningful look in return, albeit not one Nina knew how to translate. “By the way, how’s it going with your hot professor?”
Nina’s cheeks went hotter still. Recently, Nina had begun sitting closer to the front of Dr. Villanueva’s lecture hall.
He seemed to continuously catch her eye, asking all his theoretical questions of her personally, like a discussion the two of them were having in private.
The rest of the class, all philosophy or English majors, were on their phones.
Nina, meanwhile, was riveted. She’d stopped by Dr. Villanueva’s office hours just the other day to ask some questions about the reading—she was surprised to discover that Dr. Villanueva’s philosophical pairings were ample food for thought.
Every day of her new life felt stimulating, enriching. Roast chicken and intellectualism. Fawn’s long fingers casually brushed the gearshift, drawing Nina’s eye.
“How’d you know about the professor?”
“Your Big told me.” Fawn winked. “So how hot is he? Show me a pic.”