She’s listed no Greek affiliations; Ellie warned me about that. Instead of parents, she’s listed her grandparents, Charles and Margaret Watkins, both professors at Blue Mountain College. Bless her heart. I can’t imagine how Ellie or the boys would feel if they lost Haynes and me. My heart is breaking for her, and I don’t even know her.
Filling out the Alpha Delt rec is easy. We used to do this longhand, but having it online is much more convenient. The rec form asks about everything from leadership skills, interests, and talents to academic and service achievements.
There is also a question asking how I know her. I’m tempted to say I’ve known Cali for a long time, to help the girl out, but the more I think about it Lilith’s face pops into my mind’s eye. She knows perfectly well I don’t know Cali Watkins and, considering she will probably add in her two cents, I better not lie.
Finally it asks if the potential new member understands there are financial obligations in joining a sorority, with an option to check yes, no, or unknown.
ItextEllie to find out and within two minutes she texts right back:yes.
The real and more pertinent question is: canwemeet the financial obligations? I now owe Mama ten thousand dollars we don’t have. A sorority for Ellie will cost us another five hundred dollars a month—at least. What happens when Ellie wants another sundress or a nice pair of shoes? I just spent her sundress money on my own boots.But,I think, with momentary relief,I have a college degree in journalism. I will get a good job within the month.
Immediately a mental picture of the interview I’ll have springs to mind: Man behind big messy desk at theCommercial Appealwith me sitting across from him, hands folded in my lap, legs crossed at my ankles. “So, Mrs. Woodcock,” he’ll say. “You’re fifty-eight with no experience? No problem. Of course you can have a top job with our newspaper. How’s seventy-five thousand to start? Go on down to Personnel now and sign your paperwork. Congratulations, Mrs. Woodcock! And welcome aboard.”
TWENTY
CALI
While walking to class this morning all I could think about was: Ellie’s mom is writing me a rec. Alpha Delt is one of the oldest, best sororities on campus! Once she sends that in, I’ll have eight recs total. Kappa, KD, Pi Phi, Chi O, Tri Delt, AOPi, Alpha Phi, and now Alpha Delt.
Even though this helps my chances at membership, there’s another important detail I must address. And that’s money. I must save more money. First thing this morning, before my math class, I stopped at the Union. There’s a giant bulletin board there with all kinds of job opportunities for students. I tore off stubs for three babysitting jobs and one helping out with the girls’ volleyball team on weekends. Yesterday I went over to the employment office to see if I could get a signing job. That was something I got interested in when I was little. Sometimes I sign during church when the regular lady is away. But mostly I practice at home. I’ve never been paid for it, but I love it.
Our math teacher actually let us out of class early. Something about an appointment she couldn’t avoid. Although she offered numerous apologies, no one could have cared less. We all dashed out of there to soak up the sunshine. Today is one of the prettiest days we’ve had so far. Not a cloud in the sky.Nearly every tree in the Grove has students underneath its canopy with their noses buried in books.
Now, on the way to writing class, when I happen to look ahead, I see Annie Laurie walking toward me. She’s texting and hasn’t seen me yet. I think back to what she said about black people always being on their phones. She’s on hers more than anyone I know.
She’s wearing a big T-shirt and Lulu shorts. I’m wearing a regular-size T-shirt and blue jeans. When she’s only ten feet in front of me I call out to her. “Annie Laurie.”
She stops walking, and glances up from her phone. A smile is on her face, a rarity for sure. “Hey.”
“Where you headed?” I ask.
“English, but I’m starving. Wanna go eat? I’m dying for something delicious. If I have to eat this campus food again I’ll puke.”
I shrug. “I wish I could. I’ve got writing class.” As much as I want to be friends with her I know I have to keep a little distance between us. Because of that nosy streak of hers.
“So skip.”
“I… I don’t think I should.” I shake my head lightly.
“So you miss a class. What’s the big deal? You make good grades.” The way I’m hemming and hawing gives her another opportunity to try and persuade me. “We won’t go that far away. You’ll be back by your next class.”
I know I shouldn’t go, but there’s… something about her. Something alluring. Something enigmatic. Yet paradoxically repelling at the same time. I don’t want to go, but I think I’m afraid to tell her no. Afraid of getting on her bad side. Hesitantly I say, “I guess I could.”
“Good. Let’s go to Southern Craft.” She hooks her arm through mine and nudges me forward, picking up the pace as we walk.
My heart steps up, pounding louder and louder the farther away I get from my next class. I know why I’m doing this, but I’m still conflicted as hell. I know I shouldn’t be missing class, but if I piss her off do I run the risk she’ll keep probing into my past? Which is worse?
Out of nowhere my scholarship letter flashes across my mind. Maybe I willed it there. I stop abruptly, untwine my arm from hers. “On second thought. I better not.”
“Why? Don’t you like Southern Craft?”
“It’s not that. It’s—” Southern Craft is not cheap. In fact, it’s pricey. I’ve never been, but I’ve heard other girls talking about it. Maybe lunch is more affordable, but that’s not the real reason. “I just remembered I promised my teacher I would meet with her after class. It’s about a job. There’s someone she wants me to tutor.” It’s only a half-lie. There really is someone my teacher wants me to help. But we don’t actually have plans to meet today.
“What? Are you lying?” She doesn’t say it all that mean, but she still says it.
My nostrils flare. “No, I’m not lying. It’s the truth.” So it’s a half-truth. No one will ever know that but me. Still, my pulse is racing and as much as I hate to admit it I’m sort of afraid of her.
“Why do you have to work anyway?”
