Me: Absolutely. I have Tuesday and Thursday nights free. Send email with deets. TY.
I set my phone to vibrate and stuff it into my book bag just as Stacy calls the meeting to order and Maddie takes her seat in the nick of time.
“Good afternoon, Mi Alpha Alpha sisters.”
A rambunctious and hearty greeting response is returned from the twenty or so girls in the room.
“Thanks for coming today and if any of your sisters are missing, please make sure to pass along this information soon. As you know, each year we host a fund-raising event to collect money for a charity. This year, instead of doing the typical kegger or talent show, we’ve decided to host a Halloween Haunted House.”
A collective titter of excitement echoes through the room. I sit up straighter in my chair, eager to learn more about the plans for the event.
“Thanks to Shelly Duchane for coming up with this idea,” Stacy announces, acknowledging our senior sister in the front corner for her contributions. “I’m super excited to kick this thing off and get it going. Since it’s already mid-September, we only have a few short weeks to bring this to fruition and get our spook on!”
The meeting continues with suggestions and ideas thrown out and shared, each one building on the theme and creating a higher level of excitement as we move forward. At the conclusion of the meeting, we’ve determined that the event will take place at Stacy Barren’s empty mansion that her parents own and will be held over a two-week period leading up to Halloween. During the event, each sorority sister is to dress up in a costume of their choice and volunteer to decorate and host a haunted room in the mansion.
“Oh my God, I know exactly what my costume will be,” Maddie chirps in her British accent, leaning over to whisper in my ear. I give her a side-eye glance. “Let’s just say I attended British Prep schools.”
When I tilt my head inquisitively, she waggles her eyebrows and stares at me expectantly. I stare blankly back. Then she gives herself a facepalm, rolling her eyes with fake disgust.
“Dude, naughty schoolgirl. That’s what I’m going to dress up as. You know, Brittney-style skirt and knee-highs?”
My mouth forms in the wide-O to confirm my understanding.
She plants both hands on the tops of my shoulders and shakes her head in feigned disgust. “Oh, Brin, what are we going to do with your sweet, innocent self?” Then she drops a hand and snaps her fingers, pointing at me in declaration.
“We’re going to get you laid in one of the haunted rooms, that’s what we’re going to do!”
“Omigod, no! Shut up, Maddie!” I shriek, trying to slap a hand over her mouth with no success as she jumps out of reach and runs toward the stairs.
Just as she hits the bottom step, she yells at the top of her lungs, “Halloween mission is to get our little Princess’s cherry popped this year! Who’s on board?”
Like the communal war cry at an English pub during a football match, a "here-here" chant is collectively shouted across the room.
My cheeks flame red as garden tomatoes as I bury my head in my hands. Good grief, why did I ever think it would be a good idea to mention to her that I was a virgin?
Preston
“Get your asses going,ladies! We don’t have all day.”
I lace up my skates, adjust my pads under my practice jersey and head out of the locker room to the rink toward the sounds of the other team members and the coach, who just made that announcement.
My buddy, Roman, knuckles me on the shoulder as he passes. “Jesus, not sure what’s up Coaches’ ass today, but hurry up, Dahl.”
I’ve played for the Oak Ridge University Bears hockey team since I was a freshman. It’s my life during the season, which means that everything else takes the bench when I’m training, practicing and playing, including girls and sometimes even school. Which is what got me in my current predicament.
Well, that’s not altogether accurate. But nonetheless, for me to graduate in the spring and continue to play the game I love, I need a tutor to help me get through English and American Lit 200. We’re barely a month into the semester and I’m struggling like Sisyphus with his stupid rock. Every step I move forward, the rock slips back down and I can’t get the leverage I need to push it uphill.
It doesn’t help that I have a difficult time reading. Much less comprehending all the gibberish in literature. Give me aSports IllustratedorESPNmagazine and I’m a much happier camper. Maybe that makes me a dumb jock; I don’t know, and I don’t really care. I’m great with numbers and working with my hands. If I hadn’t gotten a full-ride scholarship to Oak Ridge U, I would’ve been working in my dad’s autobody shop back home in Pittsburgh and running the place.
I step out onto the ice and breathe in a big whiff of the chlorine-scented air. It’s the one constant in my life. No matter where I go or where I play, it always smells the same.
Coach blows his whistle and has us skating sprints before getting us started on drills to warm up our legs. Sprints blow but are a necessary evil to avoid injury and muscle soreness after practice.
We break out into pairs and do some one-touch passes, getting our hands involved and keeping low on the ice. We move in circular motions around the rink, one at a time, and then take shots at the goal, getting our goalie, TJ Collins, warmed up, too.
TJ is a sophomore and I don’t know him too well yet except that this is his first year starting. Johnnie Dortson was our starting goalie last year but graduated, leaving the spot open for TJ.
I’m a playmaker on the ice – a center. I make things happen and set up teammates to make goals. I’m not necessarily the best goal scorer like Ludwig who is our sniper, but I’m dependable and I see things on the ice and make solid plays. I’m smart with the puck and play well in all three zones.
