Diana Peterfreund - Under the Rose

Speaking of people we didn’t want to face at that moment, the first person we saw as we entered the gate of Prescott College was none other than George Harrison Prescott himself.

“Hey there, Boo,” he said, his tone jovial and not at all indicative of his months-long duplicity. Cold, man. Ice cold. “Back from New York?”

“Looks like it,” I replied, while Jenny pulled down the brim of her baseball cap, exposing her boyish, shorn nape, and pretended to read the bulletin board.

“Find anything?”

I shrugged, because I couldn’t trust myself to lie to him. I wanted to wring his neck. And what would be the point of making conversation anyway? It was entirely possible he was toying with me, that he and the rest of his Elysion cronies already knew about the break-in at “Ada Lovelace’s” apartment. No doubt the super had told the men about Jenny’s visitor before he’d let them have his keys. “I’m really tired. I’m going to try to grab some sleep.”

“Can I see you later?” He slipped an arm around my waist. Jenny’s back stiffened, echoing, no doubt, my own sudden relationship with good posture.

George noticed my decided lack of thrill when it came to his touch, and dropped his arm. “You okay?”

“Fine. Just tired.” Which was true, or at least half true. I was exhausted, only not “just exhausted.”

“Well, give me a call later if you want to get together. I probably won’t be in until late.”

“Okay,” I mumbled.

Jenny and I continued on our way, through the courtyard and up the steps to my suite, which glowed with warm yellow lights. I could see the door to my bedroom standing slightly ajar, and my eyes grew heavy again. Come on, Amy, buck up. Miles to go before you sleep.

“I don’t think he recognized you,” I said, swiping my card at the entryway door.

“I don’t think he recognizes anything he doesn’t classify under the category of possible sexual partner,” Jenny snapped. “So we have that going for us. You aren’t going to call him later, are you?”

“Just tell me you’re not enjoying this.”

Josh and Lydia were seated on the sofa of our common room, digging into a box of pizza. They looked up, and Josh’s mouthful actually fell onto his shirt.

“Oh my God,” he said. “What happened to you guys?”

“Amy,” said Lydia, “you look like shit.”

“Thanks, hon. I’ll love you forever if that’s pepperoni.”

“You loved me forever years ago, but yes.” She grabbed another paper plate.

I checked out my reflection in the glass. Sure enough, there were bags under the bags under my eyes, and my face was streaked with dirt. And this was what George had wanted to get together with later? Blinded by lust, perhaps? “Never mind. I think I need a shower first.”

“Your bedroom’s clear,” said Josh. “I’ve been checking regularly.” Only then did he choose to recognize Jenny’s presence. “Hi.”

She adjusted her bag on her shoulder. “Hi.”

Pleasantries aside, I left the not-so-merry group and took a shower. Say what you will about dorm life, there’s very little to compare with the glory of a scalding hot, elephant-strength Prescott College bathroom shower. Twenty minutes of steam seeping into my pores later, I emerged, reddened and relaxed, shrugged into my robe, and headed back to the suite.

Jenny had clearly related the whole story to Josh by this time, and he, naturally, had mobilized. Lydia had kindly taken her leave of the suite (the note on my whiteboard read: Okay, fine. You get one free pass for turning my common room into your clubhouse. I understand emergencies. Luv, Lyds ).

“Do you think she’s going to go tell her society our business?” I asked Josh. “You know every other society on campus is going to crow with delight if they hear about this.”

“Hear about what?” said Josh. “She left before Jenny said a word. That roommate of yours is one classy dame. Can I pick ’em, or what?”

“You’re dating Amy’s roommate?” Jenny peeked her head out of my bedroom, then looked at me. “And you allow that?”

“Shut up, Jenny,” Josh said, following me to the door of my bedroom. “Lydia’s not the only one who knows how to give people the benefit of the doubt. You’re lucky we do.”

“I believe her,” I said.

Josh sighed. “So do I. Everyone’s on their way.”

“Everyone?”

“The non-Elysions,” Jenny said. She returned to my desk and showed me what she’d pulled up on my laptop while I’d been gone. “There’s been more activity on their e-mails. I think there’s a meeting tonight. I just need to find out where it is.”

“Tonight?” I said. “On Saturday?” I probably won’t be in until late, George had said. No kidding.

“That’s why we’re concerned,” said Josh. “It must be important if people are giving up their weekend for it. It may be about the information they think Jenny has passed along.”

Soon after, the rest of the group arrived.

“This had better be good,” said Clarissa. “I’m supposed to be on another date with Mr. Wonderful.”

“Two nights in a row?” said Mara, picking over the pizza. “Wow, it’s true love.”

Greg snatched the last slice of pepperoni out from underneath both of us, and began chomping. “We all canceled plans to be here,” he said. “I expect there’s a reason.”

“I canceled nothing,” said Harun. “And yes, I own my loser status. If you all had parties to go to, the least you could do would be to take me along. Whatever happened to supporting a brother in all his endeavors?”

“We were supporting you in your loserdom,” said Clarissa.

Odile and Demetria arrived and stood on opposite sides of the room. Lover’s spat, perhaps? I raised my eyebrows at Demetria, but she ignored me.

“How long is this going to take?” Demetria asked. “If we’re waiting around for George or Nikolos to get home from the bars, we’ll be here all night.”

“That’s not where they are,” said Josh through clenched teeth.

I’d gotten dressed in Lydia’s room while Jenny worked on my computer, and now the door to my room stood closed.

“I’m getting kind of sick of these constant powwows,” said Odile. “I thought we signed up for two meetings a week, not seventeen.”

“Don’t worry,” said Josh. “This may be the last. Of any kind.” He opened my bedroom door. “Come on out.”

Jenny came forward, and everyone in the room gasped.

“Holy shit, it’s Boys Don’t Cry, ” said Odile.

Jenny gave a halfhearted wave. “Hi, guys.”

Only Harun returned her salutation. Everyone else looked pissed.

“So you found her,” sniffed Clarissa. “Great. Can we string her up now?”

“Not quite yet,” said Josh. “Give her five minutes.”

So we listened as Jenny gave a very abbreviated history of her sleeper agent scheme. She didn’t sugarcoat her involvement, or place any blame on Micah. She stood there, upfront and honest (and under her actual name), and admitted to everyone that what she’d done to them was wrong. I don’t know how many points she earned, but I was proud of her.

And then she segued into the true purpose for the meeting: Elysion. We passed around the printed e-mails and list of participants. To most of the girls, it came as a shock. Mara didn’t look too dismayed, and the boys greeted the news with more disappointment than surprise.

Josh looked at Harun and Greg. “I take it your experiences were pretty much like mine?”

Greg shrugged. “Some of the guys would make these offhand comments,” he said. “I thought they were merely taking the piss out of the girls, and never paid much attention.”