forkful of mashed potatoes in her mouth, Holly said, “Do you remember me telling you about the guy I’ve been studying anatomy with in the solarium? Well, today he asked us to a fraternity party on Friday evening.”
In the silence, Holly recognized the two other fields of red flags springing up. Jill eventually said, “I’m pretty sure my Dad would blow a gasket if he knew I went to a frat party.”
Holly reassured her with, “Kevin said that there wouldn’t be any alcohol or drugs, and it would be just a small, quiet event” (borrowing the PC term from orientation and carefully avoiding “party”).
Megan, likewise leery, asked, “Where is the frat house?”
Holly replied, “It’s just behind King Street. I know a little trail between Hubbub and Poplar Bagelry. We could quickly walk over. If we cross the Raley parking lot, walk the half block up Blue Ridge Street, and up the little shortcut, we’d be in the house’s backyard in five minutes.”
Jill asked, “What’s Kevin like?”
Holly looked more confident than she felt. “He’s cute and clean-cut. He seems like a nice guy. He takes anatomy seriously.”
Then Megan offered the persuasive facts when she said, “My dad was in Kappa Gamma Pi, and he’s still good friends with those guys. To hear them talk, they must have been pretty nerdy. They’re all serious Catholics, and I know the fraternity volunteered together at a soup kitchen in a church basement. They were at East Carolina, but they were not rowdy.”
Megan’s father was now the principal of the large Catholic high school in Charlotte, where her stepmother was a reading specialist. None of the girls could imagine Dr. Clery as anything but law abiding and responsible. If Meg’s dad was a frat boy, they couldn’t all be bad.
In spite of a unanimous sense of reluctance, they agreed to go. But they pledged to each other that if any one of them wanted to leave, they would all go with no questions asked. It was also agreed that no one was to speak of the “event” with anybody from Concord.
Chapter 6
But you shall do nothing to the young woman; there is in the young woman no sin deserving of death, for just as when a man rises against his neighbor and kills him, even so is this matter . . . The young woman cried out, but there was no one to save her.
—Deuteronomy 22:26–27
All four girls from Gorman 924 had sushi together in Privette on Friday around six o’clock. They invited Lauren, their roommate from Asheville, to go the frat party with them. But she was a flutist and had her first college performance that evening. Reaching River Street after dinner, Holly, Jill, and Megan crossed, heading for the Raley parking lot. Lauren went left toward the Troyhill Music Center.
In less than five minutes the three were off campus, through the restaurant parking lot, up the fifty feet of trail through some dense trees, and knocking on the front door of a large brick house on Orchard Street. The frat house had a well-used look, but was in decent repair and very tidy. Kevin Parsons answered the door, and when the girls were shown in, all red flags were lowered. Some good bluegrass was playing at a modest decibel. They could see into the living room where a group of seven student-types, with their backs to the newcomers and facing a large TV, were playing Scene It? Kevin said, “I’ll introduce you in a few minutes when they finish this game. Would you like some punch?” He was already drinking some.
A large cut-glass punch bowl and matching cups were on the dining table, along with a bowl of hummus and a basket of pita chips. Megan recognized the punch bowl as one just like her grandmother’s, surprisingly old fashioned for a bunch of young guys—but certainly cheap in a thrift store. Jill was impressed by the presentation, she couldn’t imagine her brother, Trevor, making things look this nice. Lemon slices were floating in the bowl of carbonated punch, probably some soda and orange juice, thought Holly.
Kevin served Holly first, and she took a sip. Jill and Megan watched for any sign from Holly of its being spiked. They all planned on drinking modestly after they were 21, but they didn’t want to get in trouble for underage drinking now. Holly simply smiled reassuringly, and they all had some. As Holly was taking her second sip, she had a fleeting remembrance of a warning given at orientation. Kevin began passing around some high quality darts, and invited them to throw at the big, pub-style board on the dining room wall. After a few minutes of this activity, Jill felt like sitting on the old sofa that was also in the dining room. Holly and Megan joined her . . .
Chapter 7
And the sons of Jacob came out of the field when they heard it: and the men were grieved, and they were very wroth, because he had wrought folly in Israel in lying with Jacob’s daughter: which thing ought not to be done.
—Genesis 34:7
Following a vague interval that they somehow knew was longer than it felt, Megan said to the others, who were still sitting on the sofa with her, “I’m really sorry to be a party-pooper, but I feel like I might be getting the flu. I’m sort of nauseous.”
“No problem, Meg, we’ll all go,” replied Jill as she rose to exit. But she almost sat down again with a feeling of having just stepped off a merry-go-round. Holly quickly agreed that it was time to leave, for she wasn’t feeling that great herself. Kevin politely asked if he should walk them back to their dorm. But they all refused the offer because it was such a short way. They thanked him and apologized for needing to leave his party early. He saw them to the door, and as they were leaving, said to Holly, “See you on Monday in the solarium.” He made his salutation with an insinuating smile that she did not like. She imagined him as a snake in her little study paradise.
After he closed the door, they made their way around the house, down the little trail, between the restaurant and bagelry, and down the half block of Blue Ridge Street. As they walked again across the Raley lot, Megan suggested that maybe the punch had been spiked a bit, “For I feel sort of drunk.” Holly didn’t say so, but she felt like she had after she had made love with Aaron during her senior year. As soon as they reached the suite, each of them used the bathroom and went immediately to bed . . .
Lauren only played in the first half of the concert and so left the Troyhill at intermission. She returned to Gorman before nine, expecting to arrive there long before the others. To her surprise, they were not only home, but all were sound asleep on top of their bedspreads. And nobody had bothered to put on her pajamas. It made her curious to hear about that frat party. Seeing the unusual opportunity to catch up on some sleep, Lauren was in bed by ten o’clock.
Gorman 924 was like all suites on the ninth floor. Two bedrooms just big enough for bunk beds, two closets and two built-in desks, joined by a small, common sitting room with a large window. 924, 926, and 928 overlooked the football stadium. The bathroom, furnished with a toilet, shower, and long counter with two sinks opened from between the bedrooms into both. Jill and Lauren shared one bedroom and Holly and Megan the other.
Holly and Megan were early risers, but Jill was usually even earlier. When Lauren woke at nine, she lay in her top bunk and listened for their conversation to filter in from the common room. She heard nothing at all. She thought that perhaps they went for an early workout at the McGinn? Maybe they decided to go to Baguette Boy Kitchen for bagel sandwiches? They probably didn’t want to wake her to ask if she wanted to come along. Did they leave her a note? Descending the bunk ladder, Lauren was very surprised to see Jill still asleep. She was exactly as she had seen her the night before. Jill had not ever put on her pajamas or gotten under her blankets. Lauren was becoming alarmed. She went into the other bedroom to discover
