“Turn around. I’ll tie it for you,” she yells over the music.
I do as she asks, holding up my hair. Catching my reflection in her vanity mirror verifies my feelings. I love this dress. It’s short, but not too short—six inches above my knees.
“It looks adorable on you,” Ellie says. “What do you think, Annie Laurie?”
“I love it,” she says, awkwardly, while applying her mascara. With every sweep of the wand, her mouth opens wider. She never turns to look directly at me; she just glances briefly at my reflection in the mirror above her vanity.
“Turn around,” Ellie says, scooting her back against mine. She slices one hand over both of our heads. “How tall are you?”
“Five two. What are you? Five three?”
She nods. “I’m the shrimp in my family. I take after my grandmother.”
Annie Laurie screws the brush of her mascara back inside the tube, places it on the mirrored top of her vanity amid the other makeup strewn about, and picks up the remote from the clutter. She points toward their TV and the music softens. Then she looks directly at me. “It really does look great on you, Cali.” A pause. “Do you have any sundresses?”
That punches my gut. I know I should say something snarky right back. But for some reason I can’t. So I simply say, “Yes, but Ellie wanted me to wear hers today.”
She smiles that smile again. The one I can’t decipher. Her cryptic look, clear as dishwater. “That’s really nice of you, Ellie.” She gets up and walks over to their “entertaining station,” as she calls it. There’s a bucket with ice poking out of the top, and a pair of silver tongs to the side. A plastic Sprite liter is next to it, along with two big bottles of Tropicana orange juice.
I watch her pour a good amount of what I know is vodka, hidden inside the Sprite liter, into a large Ole Miss plastic cup, top it off with OJ, then stirit around with her finger. After licking her finger, she takes a sip and turns to us. “Y’all ready for a screw?” Then she bursts into laughter and jukes in place underneath the new addition to their room—a hanging disco ball.
“Too early for me,” Ellie says with a forced giggle. “Do you want one, Cal?”
I shake my head. It’s the last thing I want right now.
With an exaggerated eye roll, Annie Laurie reaches for the remote again and bumps up the rap volume five more notches. She throws the remote onto the couch and proceeds to dance around the room holding her drink high in one hand and flicking and circling her wrist with the other.
“Come on, y’all,” she hollers and, after I exchange a green-light glance with Ellie, the two of us jump up and juke along with her. I know some pretty good moves from high school, but now, after living in Martin a few weeks, I’m, like, a pro. Ellie and I turn around and twerk our butts together, then laugh so hard we fall down onto their sofa. Dorm life is way more fun than I ever imagined.
“I still feel terrible about not asking Jasmine,” Ellie says, a bit out of breath. “She’s not upset, is she?” Ellie is literally yelling so I can hear her.
Shouting just as loud, I answer. “No, I swear. She and Carl have friends from Greenville who always tailgate in the Grove. Jasmine says they have this awesome flat-screen TV and no one ever wants to leave.”
“I’d never want to hurt her feelings.”
I shake my head emphatically. “Don’t worry. It’s all good.” We sit a few more seconds listening to Drake before a thought occurs to me. It’s hard to believe as a lifelong Mississippian, but it’s true. “I’ve only been to one Ole Miss game. My grandfather took my friend Rachel and me as a sweet-sixteen birthday present.”
Ellie is obviously surprised, but she reaches over and pats my cheek. “Then this game is long overdue.” She looks over at Annie Laurie. “Will you please turn it down a few notches? I’m going deaf.”
Annie Laurie obliges, then says, “I don’t think I’ve ever missed a game in my whole life.” She takes another big swig of her drink. “Daddy’s pilot flies us to all the away games.” Daddy’s pilot? Now I know I’m not in Blue Mountain anymore.
Kickoff is at three o’clock against the Wofford Terriers but Ellie thought we should be ready by twelve thirty. She said her parents had been invited toseveral tailgate parties in the Grove, including the Whitmores’, and we could tag along if we wanted. Ellie and I had discussed the warning about not going into the Grove before Rush, but we decided being with her parents was a safe way to go.
I glance at my phone. “Don’t you think we should get our showers? It’s ten thirty.”
“Probably so,” Ellie answers. “We’re supposed to meet my parents in front of the Lyceum at one.”
“Y’all are coming to our tailgate party, right?” Annie Laurie asks.
“Yes,” Ellie and I both say at the same time.
“We should all walk over together. Let’s say we leave here at noon.”
“Sweet. I’ll text my parents and tell them we’ll meet them there.” Ellie types the message out on her phone.
Standing up, I grab my PJs. “See y’all in a few.” As I head out the door, four other girls from our floor step inside.
“Shut the door,” Annie Laurie yells. “We don’t need the RA barging in here.”
