Page 38 of Love is Angry

I nod slowly, my eyes still focused on the things whizzing past us outside. “Cameron’s nice,” I hear myself saying. “I mean, he’s a good guy. He means well. It’s nobody’s fault, certainly not his, that this conflict between Rhue and me is spilling out and hurting the people around us.”

“Yeah, so like, what is up with that?” Rita asks, her gaze fixed on the road ahead.

There are dizzying turns, left and right, serpentine curves cutting through the thickening forest. One glimpse at the GPS device on her dashboard, and I can see there’s a country road we’ll have to follow soon.

“It really isn’t something worth talking about,” I tell her. “Trust me.”

“Well, secrecy doesn’t exactly invite trust, though, does it?” Rita replies.

I let out a heavy sigh. They can’t really be trusted, in the end. I’d like to, but being social and friendly with people is one thing. Trusting people who are still technically strangers to me is a whole other business. I can do the former, but both Lindsey and Rita need to do more if they want me to do the latter.

“I’m sorry, but we’re not friends,” I tell them. “I’d like us to be friends. To reach that point where we can share our most intimate thoughts and our most guarded secrets, but look at us. We’re still awkward around each other, and that’s okay. This dynamic of ours is only just getting started.”

Lindsey turns her head to look at me, and I can tell she’s amused. “That’s a bit hurtful.”

“Tell me something you don’t want anyone else to know, then. Trust me with something you value deeply, and I will reciprocate,” I reply, my brow furrowed. I may be eager to make friends, but I’m certainly not foolish or naïve. They need to understand that, and their silence tells me everything I need to know. “Yeah, figured that much. So, let’s leave Rhue andmy history with him out of these conversations, going forward. Believe me, you’re both better off without any of that knowledge, to begin with. If we do get to the point of being really good friends, I’ll gladly tell you all about how Rhue Echeveria and I became—”

“Mortal enemies?” Rita chuckles.

I allow myself to smile. “Guess you could say that. Though the last thing I want is to wish him any kind of ill. Truth be told, I’m the one gunning for peace, and he’s the one demanding that I suffer indefinitely for my sins.”

“Men, huh?” Rita snorts a laugh.

I laugh with her. But even that does nothing to loosen the stiffness of the moment.

By the time we reach the meeting point, I am slightly more comfortable around them. The girls’ intentions are definitely good, but when Rhue is so influential and well-spoken and disarmingly handsome, it’s kind of hard not to be tempted in taking his word over whatever I might say. As we get out of the car, I understand why it’s better for us to stick together. It’s one thing to hear the stories about hazing ritual, and a whole other thing to become an active participant.

There are only twenty of us, to begin with. That’s the first red flag. “Something’s off,” I mutter, inching closer to Rita as we stay close to the car.

I recognize Cameron and a few others from our faculty. All of them seem as confused and as wary as the three of us. We’re on the edge of a narrow country road. About fifty yards ahead, I can see the pavement ending, but the road continues with just dirt and rocks. The forest rises around us with giant old pines and the occasional sprinkle of aspens and oaks.

Aside from the car headlights, there is nothing but darkness. Darkness, and the rustling of leaves.

“Is it just us?” Cameron asks as he and the others approach us. He seems shy. Worried, even. Ah, fresh meat for the seniors, indeed.

“Anthropology majors, you mean?” I ask, recognizing the rest of our year. Rhue leans against his car at the far end, closer to the dirt road. He doesn’t even look at us. Not that I would like any of his attention right now.

Rita checks the GPS coordinates with the others. “Well, we’re definitely in the right spot,” she says. “And yeah, I think it’s just us anthropology majors,” she adds, giving a few nods to greet the others. It doesn’t take long for her to get antsy. “Oh, man, I don’t like this. What the hell are we doin’ here in the middle of nowhere?”

It’s a good question, especially since the sun has already set and the night has taken over this side of the woods. Soon enough, we’ll see a moon rising, a big white pearl that will keep us company until morning. It seems so peaceful and quiet, completely uncharacteristic of what I imagine a hazing ritual party might look like. But then I hear the footsteps, leaves crunching and twigs crackling beneath their boots.

“Welcome, freshmen!” a female says, her voice heavy and cutting through the evening as she emerges from the tenebrous forest. “I see you’ve all made it in one piece. Congratulations. It means you’re all a teeny bit smarter than those who proudly label themselves sophomores this year.” Her remark stirs laughter from somewhere behind her.

There are five others present. Seniors, I presume, like the leading lady. They’re all wearing long white capes with Cornell’s crest embroidered on their chests in red and gold. The hoods are pulled, and I can barely make out their faces, but I definitely know the woman.

“I’m Mackenzie Jefferies, and I am the Master of Ceremonies this year,” she says, proudly raising her arms. “The fivegentlemen behind me serve to enforce the ritual’s rules and regulations. We can’t have a hazing without some order, I’m afraid, for everybody’s safety.”

“Why is it just us?” Cameron asks, but Mackenzie shushes him.

“Trap shut, please! I did not give you permission to speak!” She nods at us. “Freshmen, line up. It’s about to get wild.”

I’m not sure whether to consider her an actual figure of authority or just play along to make her feel good about herself.

As if reading my mind, Lindsey gives me a discreet nudge. “Let’s be nice and cooperate, Madison. We came all the way here.”

That’s not going to be easy. Not with Rhue’s eyes on me. I can hear him walking towards us, ready to get in line as per Mackenzie’s request. I can’t read his expression. He keeps his cards close to his chest, but I can feel the atmosphere loading up with the heady, toxic energy of many things left unspoken.

This will be a difficult weekend. And it’s too late for me to turn back now.

---