Stupid Boy Page 4

“We’re goin’ to a game tomorrow,” Brax said, then I felt a shift in the air as he swung up into the bunk above me. He was quiet for a while, and I thought he was asleep. Until he spoke again.

“The game’s at two. We’re playin’ Kansas City. And we’re goin’ together,” Brax said. “I know a guy at the park. He’s been lettin’ me in since I was seven. We can get a hot dog, might even catch a foul ball. Okay?”

I sighed into my pillow. “Okay.” Anything to shut him up. It worked.

Then I closed my eyes. I knew I’d dream. I always dreamed. Only they weren’t dreams, they were nightmares. Frightmares. Night terrors, the doctor had said. And Brax was going to hear them.

Soon, he’d know everything.

Winston University

Texas, present day

Early November

“Ladies, as you all know, the Kappas start every fall semester off with one of their degrading, humiliating fraternity dares. Last fall…” I sighed and stared at the aged wooden podium I stood behind, used by many Delta presidents before me. I looked up, then scanned the familiar faces of my sisters. The flames from several lit candles swayed as the air conditioning kicked on and swooshed a fake breeze through the common room. I gripped the podium with my palms. “What they did to Olivia Beaumont last year was unforgiveable. And now they’ve done it again. They shouldn’t just get away with it.”

“Poor Macie Waters,” Maggie Gibson said. “How she fell for that jackass Josh Collins is beyond me. Why would she ever think he’d want to seriously be with her?”

“Macie is a smart girl. She’ll get over him,” I answered. “Whether she’ll get over being humiliated in front of a hundred people at their ridiculous Halloween bash anytime soon is yet to be seen. It was a hard life’s lesson learned for her.” It’d been a Stephen King’s Carrie sort of moment—minus the pig blood. Josh had coaxed Macie into dressing up as a slutty nurse and drinking way too much—then announced at the bash it’d all been a dare. Idiot.

“But Olivia beat them,” Jane Morris said. “She and Brax won.”

A murmur ran through the Deltas at the mention of Olivia and Brax. With good reason, too. They had won. Olivia’s strength and courage had out-witted those lamebrain Kappas. And Brax? Well, he’d surprised everyone—including me. He’d proven to not only be one of the brightest guys I’d ever met, but was totally in love with Olivia. So much that he’d quit the Kappas. Since last fall’s dare, Olivia had made the Dean’s list. Last season Brax had accumulated more pitching records than any Silverback before him. And their romance was the talk of Winston. Like a living, breathing thing, it simply…existed. Everyone knew of Brax and Gracie—his endearing nickname for her. More than one time I’d wondered, what would that be like? To have someone love me that much? I couldn’t even fathom it. The idea felt foreign. Alien. And in the end, it left me feeling hollow inside.

“Oh my God, the way he looks at her,” Jane said, her voice whispery. “Like he’ll suffocate, shrivel up and die if he can’t touch her.”

“That’s true,” I continued. I tucked my hair behind my ear. “Olivia is extraordinary. But still. Despite their survival, a new dare victim was chosen this year. Humiliated. All for some drunken good laugh. And I—we—can’t let them get away with it. It’s degrading. We’re sophisticated, intelligent women. Not to be used as dogs.”

Heads nodded and muttered their agreement.

“I thought the dares were banned,” Maggie said. “Like, not allowed. At all.”

The smile I gave stretched thin and tight against my teeth. “They are, as far as sexual harassment and damage to property goes,” I answered. “Only, that doesn’t really mean anything to the Kappas.” Again, I peered out over my sisters. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Oh,” a familiar voice said. “I fancy that impish gleam in your eye, Ms. Belle.”

My gaze found Murphy Polk, who was a transplant from York, England. She was as close a friend as I had. Her chestnut hair had streaks of highlight and was cut in a fashionable wavy abstract lob that brushed her collarbones, only presently she had two large braids pulled along each side and gathered in the back. She was smiling the type of smile that had meant trouble before. Modernly dressed yet with an easy Bohemian flare, Murphy was that girl who fit in with every single crowd. Everyone liked her. That smile? Like the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland. She’d pushed me into sticky spots before, knowing I was a total rule-follower. A wicked spark now flashed in her eyes as she waited for my answer.

Murphy’s grin grew. “Well, come on, then, love. Please, share.” Her brows knitted into a mock frown. “And withhold not one manky detail.”

I couldn’t contain the grin on my own face at Murphy’s heavy north York accent and favorite slang. Manky—meaning dirty or filthy. It reminded me of the first day we’d met, in our freshman year at Winston. Murphy had blown into our dorm room as though she’d known me forever. We hadn’t instantly connected, though. Murphy…she was persistent. I couldn’t help liking her. And the one thing I really loved about Murphy? She never asked questions. She simply…accepted. Unless, of course, it pertained to up-to-no-good fraternity pranks. “I think we should give the Kappas a taste of their own putrid medicine. That’s what. And I have an idea how.”

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