Wahoo Read online

  “Exactly. Did you read the book?”

  “No,” said Cara. “But I’ve been on the Internet.”

  “Yeah. But he claimed they don’t do any of that, no carrying fish in your underpants, rolling around in vomit, or massive binge drinking. But things took a turn for the serious when I asked if they binged on soy sauce.”

  Cara was puzzled.

  Bill frowned. “A young pledge ended up in the hospital from drinking soy sauce. He survived, but it was a dark moment in frat history here. Not really a laughing matter.”

  “You have a tendency to call people out on things like that in front of groups.”

  “I do, don’t I? Well, that story was in the news a lot when it happened. My dad assured me it was a weird aberration, not something that would normally happen at a frat. I suspected they’d try to sweep it under the rug, so I respected the dude in charge for being honest about it. Then he talked about the new policies in place that protect women and keep parties safe, stuff like that. Really basic boilerplate.”

  “Doesn’t sound like much of a party.”

  “It wasn’t. He wrapped up by talking about their service projects, mandatory study time for pledges, sacred rituals, and their charitable contributions. Like millions of dollars’ worth. He gave a pretty good sales pitch, how frats today aren’t the frats of yesterday, and how institutions change. He said we were free to go or hang and chat, and I scarfed a bunch of their snacks on my way out.”

  “Woo, party hearty.”

  “Yeah. He stopped me on my way out, said something about my dad being close to his dad. Left me with a positive impression. He took my phone number. I suspect I’m a diversity pledge they’re hungry for, for appearances’ sake. But maybe that’s cynical.”

  “You never know.”

  “Yeah. You really don’t. I’m about as mixed feeling about it as I was when I made the list of pros and cons.”

  “Sorry to hear.”

  “Yeah. Well. Thanks for listening. Enough about me. Tell me more about this grand tour your RA took you on.”

  She shrugged. “You’re a local here. I’m sure there’s nothing I could tell you about the place you don’t already know. You being a local and all.”

  Bill shrugged. “You’d be surprised at how little I know about the place.”

  They arrived at the Lawn-side steps leading up to the Rotunda and sat down there together.

  “Really? This is UVA. It’s the central feature of the town, isn’t it?”

  “It’s just a place where people around here work.”

  “But it’s got…all the history and everything.”

  “Yeah. But how much do you really know about your hometown history?”

  She thought about her northern Virginia suburban home. “There’s not much to it. I mean—D.C. is nearby, but my town’s nothing special.”

  “Okay, what about D.C., then? It’s nearby. Can you give me a detailed rundown of every tourist attraction there?”

  Cara thought that over. “I’ve been to the Jefferson Memorial. And I’ve visited the Smithsonian museums…”

  “You take it for granted, right? Like it’ll always be there, so there’s no need to explore it too much, right?”

  “I guess so. I’ve never been in the White House or Washington Monument.”

  Bill nodded. “Same thing for me. The Rotunda behind us here? It’s just a neat-looking building we pass by now and then. I’ve never been in there.”

  “Well, let’s change that now!”

  “Should we?”

  “We should!”

  They got up and wandered through it and looked at the bell exhibit, the statue, and the giant domed room with book exhibits around the edges. One of the exhibits was on Jane Eyre and included some books of Jane Eyre-inspired erotica with risqué covers. They both laughed at that.

  “You really never wandered through here?” whispered Cara.

  “Nope,” Bill whispered back. “Just seemed like this would always be here. UVA is the place that employs my mom and dad. That’s all.”

  “Huh. Might as well have been an industrial park to you, then, huh?”

  “Yeah. I spent more time in lobbies and waiting rooms here than anywhere else.”

  “I guess not a lot of people stay in this town? Big turnover?”

  “Yeah. Mostly when I was a kid. Lots of my friends’ parents were students at the various higher-level schools here. Law, business, medical. Then they graduated and they were gone. My friend group stabilized a bit in junior high. By that point, most kids had parents that actually lived and worked in town here on a permanent basis.”

  They went down the stairs and walked out of the Rotunda and made their way around on the fairy-tale-palace-esque walkway lined with pillars.

  They came around and looked at Jefferson’s large statue out front, along with the Corner and Rugby Road.

  “You heard about the dude that was beaten bloody on the Corner a few years back?”

  Cara shook her head. “What happened?”

  “Stupid ABC enforcers. Jacking up a student for the crime of being black on a Friday.”

  “Oh, uh…”

  “That’s just a saying. From some movie. The point was, they didn’t believe he was of age at a bar, so things escalated, and he was thrown to the ground and his face got badly bloodied.”

  “I’m amazed I didn’t hear about that.”

  “He sued. I don’t remember if he won. I hope he did. It was a huge story in town for a while. I bet you heard about the ABC agents who chased after the white girls, though, right?”

  Cara bit her lip. “Uh…yeah, I did know about that. They bought bottled water, and the agents thought it was beer, so they pulled guns on them and pursued them.”

  “Yeah, and then tried to prosecute them for fleeing. ABC agents are nucking futs around here.”

  “I guess you and I should stick together, since we’re both in endangered ethnic groups in this town.”

  Bill laughed. “Black boys and white girls—solidarity!” Then his expression soured. “The cops ain’t perfect around here, though. They tear-gassed protesters a while back.”

  “What?”

  “The KKK rallied here, and you better believe our citizens protested ’em.”

  “Oh yeah, I think I heard about that. They were angry about some Civil War statue. There’s a KKK presence in Charlottesville?”

  “No, those idiots were from North Carolina. They’re sad, pathetic relics from the dustbin of history. They feed on publicity, and man, did we feed them well.”

  “But it’s not like people could stand just letting them rally unopposed, I guess?”

  “Exactly. Lose-lose situation. And it all went about how you’d expect. Klan came, Klan got yelled at, Klan left. But then the cops tear-gassed the protesters after the KKK departed.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. There’s a difference of opinion on it. I wasn’t there that day. But my friends told me the cops came dressed up like soldiers, looking for a fight. Spent the whole KKK rally facing the peaceful protesters instead of the KKK, who claimed they would be bringing guns to the rally.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah. And then the crowd didn’t immediately disperse after the KKK left, so the cops blasted them with tear gas and arrested a couple dozen folks.”

  “I’ll have to watch out for the police, then.”

  Bill shrugged. “I never heard of them doing anything like that before. State and county police were there, too. They might have instigated the fight. But it’s a sore spot to this day.”

  Cara shook her head, then checked her watch. “I hate to leave things on that note, but I have to go now. Gotta do that stupid class signup thing.”

  “Enjoy that. Been nice to talk with you.”

  “Even if we don’t talk again?”

  He shrugged. “Anything’s possible.”

  “You gonna par
ty with those responsible upstanding fraternity gentlemen again tonight?”

  “No, I doubt it. Just gonna head home.”

  “Oh, right. Because home is in town for you.”

  “Right. Less than a mile from here.”

  “Okay, well. Bye.”

  “Bye.”

  As Cara walked away, she realized she hadn’t once thought about sucking in her gut or wondering what she looked like to Bill. She couldn’t remember the last time she hadn’t been self-conscious in front of a guy.

  But she reminded herself she had a boyfriend.

  And that Bill was a frat boy in the making. Those guys were bad news. Or maybe they weren’t. Maybe her dad had been wrong about them.

  She realized something else pleasant as she walked over to Wilson Hall to assign herself some classes.

  She couldn’t remember how many calories she’d eaten that day.

  Chapter 13

  Her class signup session in Wilson Hall felt like being put through a funnel. Extra annoying since she’d packed her things in her bag, then had to carry it from one appointment to another.

  The first person in a suit asked what classes interested her.

  The second person in a suit discussed the availability of the classes that interested her.

  The third person in a suit signed her up for the classes that interested her.

  Why it took three people in three rooms three appointments to handle what could have been accomplished by her clicking a few things on a website was beyond her.

  She picked up her bag, navigated her way over to Christie’s place using her map app.

  She had to weave her way through some alleys on the Corner—passing by several restaurants, a convenience store, a vape shop—to get back to the row of apartments where Christie resided.

  Cara knocked on the door.

  “It’s open!” yelled a voice within.

  Cara walked on in. “What if it wasn’t me?”

  Christie shrugged. “Gotta take some risks in life.”

  Cara put down her backpack. “Been a long day. Are you okay if I just relax for a bit?”

  “Sounds like a plan,” she said, then held up a pair of dresses—one red, one purple. “Which one am I wearing tonight? Don’t think, just answer.”

  “Uh…purple! Why? Are you going out?”

  “No. We are going out.”

  “What? No.”

  “Come on. It’s Midsummers. You have to at least tip your hat to a party tonight!”

  “But I don’t drink!”

  “And I won’t pressure you to! But we’re definitely going out.”

  “I really just want to read. Seriously, I’ve never wanted so much to just sit around and read. It’s been enough—”

  “Yeah, being away from home for the first time. Deep conversations. Coming to realizations about your weaknesses. All very transformative. None of that is getting you out of this.”

  Cara shook her head.

  “Listen, champ—there is no way I’m gonna leave you here alone on the biggest party night of the year. Just go out and experience it! Stay on the fringes and wallflower it if you like.”

  Cara sighed. “Okay, but I’m not putting on makeup or getting all dressed up.”

  “Absolutely!”

  Chapter 14

  Midsummers Eve

  Cara had makeup on and was all dressed up.

  Christie had a powerfully persuasive personality, and she wasn’t letting Cara out of the place without getting her at least a little dolled up.

  So Cara ended up abandoned by Christie at a frat party, made her way past Bill and the sea of merrymaking partygoers. While trying to make her way back to the apartment, she ran headfirst into a wall of law enforcement.

  Dozens of drunk, disoriented teens were dragged off by the cops. Cara wondered what the proportion of illegal to legal drinkers was here. Ten to one?

  She hadn’t had anything to drink, but she didn’t think the officers would take her word for that. She looked around, and wondered if there was any direction she could run, but she was sure that would call even more attention to herself. Guilty people flee the scene of a crime, right?

  A whole lot of people around her were running and scrambling in every direction. There were a lot of falls. No one appeared to be in their most coordinated state.

  So she just froze, standing there helplessly, feeling like an idiot, waiting for a man in blue to grab her and toss her into a giant black-and-white van with POLICE in a slick, futuristic font on the side. It looked like the Robocop logo. She wondered if it was supposed to be intimidating or if someone was just having fun with the graphic design there.

  Sure enough, one of the officers grabbed her by the shoulder and pushed her toward the van. She joined a half-dozen other confused, scared-looking partiers, half of whom spilled their drinks all over themselves in the confusion.

  She wondered if they were gonna get their Miranda rights read to them. She wondered if they were technically under arrest. She wondered if she should demand a breathalyzer test. She wondered if they were gonna get handcuffed. Or maybe cuffed all together like a chain gang.

  Four more people entered the van against their will before the two rear doors slammed shut. The van started up, drove away.

  The van was crowded and sweaty. Reeked of bad decisions, but all things considered, she felt this had gone quite well. No one had pulled a gun on her or bloodied her face or fired tear gas into the crowd. Gotta be grateful for those tender mercies.

  All in all, Cara would have rather stayed at Christie’s apartment and spent the evening reading.

  Chapter 15

  She thought about that Kafka book she’d read in English class last year as she sat on the bench outside the magistrates’ court along with several dozen other people. The waiting was the worst part. Sitting there uncertain about where you were, what you were doing, and where you were going.

  “Are we even under arrest?” one of them asked.

  “I kind of wish I was more drunk than I am right now,” another responded.

  Cara was scared, but at the same time, knew she hadn’t done anything wrong. Had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. She was sober. She was law-abiding. Just swept up in a raid.

  She wondered how many people were taken away by authorities from that huge gathering. It had really been ridiculously large. It was staggering to think that was once a yearly event. She was pretty sure it would never get so big again while she was a student. Maybe it needed another thirty-five-year hiatus before partiers got bold enough to take over the streets in those numbers again.

  Each person in her small group had been shuffled from desk to desk upon arrival at the station. Cara expected to be fingerprinted and photographed like one always saw in the movies. She wondered what kind of face she’d make when her picture was taken. She felt fear at the idea of her arrest photo going viral. Caption: ONCE-PROMISING LOCAL TEEN GOES BAD. She’d never live it down.

  But no fingerprinting or photographing happened. She kept waiting to be told she had the right to remain silent, as well. But no one ever said any such thing. The first person at the first desk asked her if she’d had anything to drink. She said no. The person asked if she was willing to take a breathalyzer. She said yes, then wondered if she should have said that. She wondered if she should be asking for a lawyer.

  Her little brother once showed her a bunch of YouTube videos advising not to talk to the police if you were arrested. How everything you did and said could be twisted and used against you. She remembered the magic words were, “Am I being detained?”

  And as the nearby officer brought the breathalyzer device to her lips, she was sorely tempted to say those exact words. But then decided things had been pretty chill so far. No one had read her Miranda rights to her. She didn’t seem to be under arrest, so she might as well play along. She blew in the device.

  The officer took it back, loo
ked at it, then nodded to the person on the desk. She typed something in to her computer and waved her along.

  Cara was escorted into another room. This time, the person at the desk asked if she had ID on her. She pulled out her wallet, handed her driver’s license over. The person asked if she’d ever been arrested or had any prior warrants out for her. She said no. The person punched a few more keys, then handed her ID back. The officer shuffled her into a larger room.

  Which brought her—most anticlimactically—to the bench where she currently resided.

  So she was in the system. She’d been confirmed sober. Probably looked up in the police database. But was she under arrest, or what? What was going on?

  Then an officer opened a nearby door, pointed at her. “Okay, this way, ma’am.”

  She got up, went through the door he held open for her.

  This felt like a dark reboot of her three visits with the academic advisors earlier that day. Three sets of authority figures handling three separate tasks that seemed like they could be handled much easier by one. But that was bureaucracy for you.

  She was led into a small courtroom with a large video monitor set up front.

  No judge, no jury, no one in the audience.

  Not quite what she expected.

  The officer escorted her up and positioned her in front of the small webcam next to the monitor, where an older man in an informal, darkly lit living room was staring back at her. He looked tired and bored.

  “All right, go ahead.”

  Cara was confused, wondered if she was supposed to speak. So she said, “Not guilty.”

  The officer next to her sighed. Then he said to the face on the screen, “Thank you, Your Honor. Individual was found in the area of activity. Individual passed breathalyzer test. No crime committed.”

  The magistrate nodded, gave a bored wave to the camera. “Release her on her own recognizance. No charges. No future hearing.”

  “Yes, Your Honor,” responded the officer. Cara looked at him. He gestured toward the room’s rear exit.

  “I’m free to go? That’s it?”

  The officer nodded, walked back to the side door to get the next defendant for the magistrate.