MISS PEARL
“It’s the calm before the storm,” Mama Carla says when we meet each other in the foyer. I’m just getting into work and exactly two hours from now this House will be exploding with 140 new Alpha Delta Betas. “You’ve got to see this.” She takes me by the hand and leads me toward the downstairs study lounge.
Trudy is jogging right behind us wearing her ADB doggie jersey. One of the girls gave it to Mama Carla last year.
“See what?” I ask.
“This year’s present crop.” She swings open the door and before God every inch of the floor, the tabletops—even the cushions on the sofas—are loaded down with gift baskets full of every Alpha Delt novelty one can imagine—cups, headbands, pencils, beach towels, clipboards, and picture frames, just to name a few. Clusters of blue and white balloons are covering the ceiling and the scent from what must be three hundred bouquets of roses makes me imagine I’m stepping inside a perfumery. All the parents and grandparents—even the boyfriends and other girlfriends—send congratulatory gifts to the new pledges.
There’s a stuffed orca, the Alpha Delt mascot—taller than I am—on astand with his fins up, like he’s dancing at Sea World. Sometime early this morning, all of the florists and gift boutiques in town got their own secret copy of the final bid list from Panhellenic. They’re all sworn to secrecy, not even the parents or gift givers know who is pledging which sorority. By the looks of this place I’m quite sure they worked their arms and legs off putting these baskets together.
“Lord, Mama Carla, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen this much loot. In all the years I’ve been here.”
“And the crazy thing is, because of that variable quota deal, we have fewer pledges than last year. Take a gander, Pearl.” Mama Carla sweeps her hand from one end of the room to the other. “Try to guess which pledge got the most.”
I scan the presents one more time, but I don’t need to. “Are her initials ALW?” I say with a chuckle.
“You got it. When I saw that six-foot orca come in with her name on it, I said, ‘Well now’”—she crosses her arms under her chest—“‘isn’t that a productive way to spend money.’ Wonder how many starving children that thing could have fed?”
That Mama Carla. She’s always got a wisecrack up her sleeve.
“Uh-oh, look at Trudy.” I point toward the door. One of the baskets on the floor has been tipped over and that tiny thing is running off with a chocolate orca in its mouth.
“Trudy!” Mama Carla yells, and all I can see is her backside as she’s running down the hall.
When I catch up with her I decide to tell her what’s been on my mind all weekend. I’ve hardly slept from all the mental scenarios I’ve created. “I’ve been thinking about what you said on Monday and I’ve decided you’re right.”
She snatches the candy out of Trudy’s mouth. “Bad girl, Trudy. Don’t you know chocolate can kill you?” The orca is full of tiny teeth marks, but it seems Mama Carla has intervened just in time. “So much for this.” She stuffs the candy into her pants pocket. “Now, what were you saying?”
“I’m ready to put in my application for House Director.”
The elation on her face lets me know she’s happy to hear it. “Pearl Johnson. That’s fantastic.”
“Well, I think so, too, Mama Carla. What’s my first step?”
“I imagine you’ll need to say something to Lilith Whitmore.”
I shake my head, let out a moan. “That’s what I was afraid of.”
“Oh for heaven’s sakes. What can that woman say? You’re qualified and she knows it. Don’t be afraid of her.”
“Oh, I’m not afraid of anybody, and I’m sure not afraid of her. My only hesitation is, well, you know what it is. Something tells me she won’t take me serious.”
Mama Carla looks me dead in the eye. “She’ll have to take you serious. This is 2016. She’ll be here in a little while, so why don’t you go up and tell her you’ll be turning in an application.”
“You think today is best?”
“Actually,” she says, flicking a finger in the air, “today is perfect.” She gives me a thumbs-up. “She’ll be over the moon about Annie Laurie. You’ll be catching her at just the right time.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“You and I both know she’s been living for this moment. You have no idea how many times I’ve wanted to tell her she needs to get a life and… never mind. I better shut up before I get myself in trouble. Let me go put Trudy up before she kills herself.”
Mama Carla scoops Trudy in the crook of her arm and heads back to her apartment. I head on into the kitchen. Sleeping until eight this morning has made a big difference. I actually feel refreshed. Maybe Mama Carla is right. Today is the perfect day. Aunt Fee will be in soon, and I can’t wait to tell her about my talk with Mama Carla. She’ll have her own opinions on how I should approach Miss Lilith.
Once the kitchen door closes behind me, I go on about my business, making sure things are in order. This year the girls have decided to change Bid Day up a bit. Instead of taking the celebration off campus, we’re having a big supper on the back patio to welcome all the new members.
When I drove in this morning I noticed both of the giant Bid Day banners hanging from the second-floor balcony and boulder-size balloons scattered all over the front yard. Streamers that had been placed on the porch railings, were fluttering with the wind. A blue-and-white balloon arch stretched over thefront walkway, and a photo booth was on one side of the yard—oversize Greek letters on the other. No telling how late the girls were up last night getting it all done.
