Page 136 of Caged in Silver
“Sure.” I’m tired of eating alone.
In the dining hall, as we pick at our turkey melts, she asks about Leo. I knew she would, but the sound of his name is like a punch in the stomach.
“I haven’t talked to him this week.”
Her face falls. “Oh no. Because of Zander? Oh god, Betts, I’m so sorry.”
“No. It’s not Zander. We’re just not—” I lapse into a lie. “We’re not going out or anything. We’re just friends.”
“What about those other people? The witch and the other guy.”
“Avery and Aaron.”
“Yeah, them. Are you hanging out with them tonight?”
Over the week, I’ve successfully avoided them. Avery answered my cryptic text about Leo’s car with a simpleIt’s taken care of. And after I didn’t show up at the Bobcat on Tuesday, she sent me another message:Call me when you’re ready to talk. Maybe I will someday, when the fury and humiliation aren’t quite so acute.
I answer Liv, “No. Not this weekend.”
She bites her lip. “Then come out with me.”
“Thanks, but I don’t think so.”
“Not to O-Chi. We’ll go out, just us girls.”
I’m tempted. But on a Friday night, where else is there to go but O-Chi or Henry’s?
“Oh wait, I know!” Liv nearly sprays me with a mouthful of DietCoke. She giggles as she wipes her mouth. “Let’s go to Kappa Tau or…. Oh! How about Beta Rho Nu? I’ll bet they’re having a band tonight. And since no one knows us there, we can get plastered and dance and nobody will bother us.”
She has me at “get plastered and dance.” I need a night of sweet oblivion. “Okay fine, I’m in.”
She squeals and claps her hands.
“But just you and me. Don’t tell Braden.” If we run into anyone from O-Chi, I’m liable to run screaming into the night.
Liv mimics buttoning her lips.
I get to my feet. “Let’s go let off some steam.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Good thing Livis still in the shower, because I keep taking my necklace on and off like a crazy person. It’s just that every time I feel that amethyst hit my chest, the childish, spiteful side of me pitches a fit.Like I’m gonna wear something that dickhead faerie gave me.But I know it would be stupid to go to this party unprotected. Bowing to my common sense, I give the pendant a squeeze and commit to clasping the chain around my neck. We’re one and the same, this crystal and I—a heart that absorbs too much, trapped in a decorative cage.
A short while later, Liv and I show up at Beta Rho Nu, known around campus as BuRN. They don’t have the prestige other fraternities like O-Chi do, but only because they don’t have a house on Fraternity Row. Instead, they’re in a sprawling 1960s rancher in a newer part of town. The architecture might be dated, but with a basement that spans the entire length of the house, it’s ideally suited for parties. Tonight, BuRN has a band playing, an eighties and nineties cover band. So not only can I rewind the clock to before I fell for a lying faerie, I can travel back to the decades before I was evenborn. Hell, give me a few beers and I can erase my entire fucked-up life.
In the mustard yellow and avocado green kitchen, Liv and I find the keg. The guy on duty takes one look at us and waves us to the front of the line. “Ladies,” he croons, dimples flashing as he smiles. “Welcome to Beta Rho Nu.” He fills our cups, pausing to let the foam die down before topping up to the rim. “Enjoy.”
We thank him sweetly and follow the flow of people downstairs. For a while we remain on the periphery, sipping our overfull beers and singing along with the band. They’re impressive. It takes a shit-ton of talent to play both Janet Jackson and Pearl Jam.
My cup is only half empty when Liv squeals, “Britney!” and yanks me out into the crowd. I’m not drunk yet, but yeah, it’s Britney. We cut loose, dancing and singing and draining our beers.
An hour and another drink later, I’m sloshed. Which is good, because nineties music is brutal if you have a broken heart. Rejection, lies, abandonment, loneliness.
But also anger. So much glorious anger.
“See! You needed this!” Liv shouts in my ear.
I give her a thumbs-up and go back to my frenzied dancing. By the end of the grunge set, my hair is a mess and I’m positively vibrating from all my vented rage. If only someone had written a song about being deceived by an asshole faerie.
