“This is what they do, Kita. They get the girls drunk. They get the guys worked up, suggesting that their donation is really going to get them one of these girls. They make the girls dance, do suggestive things…”
“I didn't do any of that,” she insists.
“You don't remember doing any of that,” I counter. I'm being far too aggressive about this, but why won't she listen to me? “This is a real thing. I don't care what Lizzie told you. She's not your friend. She's not.”
She looks up at me, her eyes blazing. I feel so bad about making her angry that I want to take everything back. I want to pet her hair, to comfort her. The trouble is, I'm the one who's upsetting her. She doesn’t seem to remember anything about last night at all.
“Mr. Lockwood,” she says calmly, but with an edge in her voice, “I don't think you know what you're talking about. I'd like to go back to the sorority house now. And if you won't take me, I'll find another way.”
And I can tell she's completely serious. There's no way I am going to get through to her. Who am I anyway? Just some old man who basically kidnapped her and now is yelling at her in his kitchen. I can kind of see myself from her point of view, and it is simply ridiculous. What am I doing?
She's got me. I can't just keep her here. I'm going to have to let her go, and hopefully stopping the event last night was enough. Maybe she'll be able to forget all about it.
“All right, I'm sorry I've upset you,” I tell her in a hoarse whisper. “Just let me go get a jacket, and I'll drive you back now.”
Chapter 6
Kita
I tug the hem of his shirt as close to my knees as I can while Daniel drives me back to the sorority house. I don't even want to talk to him, though some part of me can't help but watch him. He's holding so much in, I wonder what else he wants to say. But the stuff he already told me is completely ridiculous. Still, the way that he's practically mangling the steering wheel in his big hands, there is obviously a lot more on his mind.
But I don't want to hear it. I do not want to hear any more of this nonsense.
What does he even think he can get from all of this? Just flat-out lying about the sisters of Chi Rho Pi? Everybody knows the stuff that they do in the community is generous and vitally important. In fact, I remember going to a house sponsored picnic when I was 16, back when I'd only been in the foster system for a couple of months. It was terrific.
It was just a simple picnic at a park a few blocks from my house. I happened to walk by it and see the banners and balloons. There was a barbecue, a bouncy castle, kids running around on the swing set. And all these beautiful sorority girls, ladling out scoops of potato salad and handing hot dogs to little kids. One of them saw me staring and beckoned me over.
They didn't even ask me if I belonged there. They didn't even ask me for anything. I just ended up hanging out with a few really nice college girls for a couple hours, seeing what life would be like in their shoes. They were so happy, so carefree, living lives with purpose and promise. College students with futures. It was like some kind of fairytale, to me.
So where does this guy get off, just slinging mud at them?
He pulls to the curb in front of the house, and I start to get out, then turn back to him. His expression is so strange, like he's sad. Like he's sorry for the things that he said, sort of wounded. I feel bad for him and almost want to reach out and touch him or something. He raises his hand, holding up a key.
“Kita, I want you to take this.”
I cringe back a little bit. What is he talking about? His dark eyes are serious and steely.
“I know this is going to sound strange, and I totally understand why you feel the way you feel. But it's my job to know things, you might say. About people. And I know a few things about Lizzie and the sorority house. So if you ever need a place to stay, someplace safe —”
“I have a place to say,” I remind him.
He softens slightly, his broad shoulders slumping just a little bit. Why do I feel like I'm sad?
“I know you do,” he says softly. He reaches forward and presses the key into my palm, then folds my fingers over it. “Take it. Throw it away when you get inside, I don't care. But just take it. I promise you there's nothing weird about it… there are no strings attached… but I would just feel a million times better knowing you have options. Okay?”
I pull my hand back away from him, feeling the impression of his fingers over mine. For a few long seconds, we sit without saying anything else. Then I get out of the car, fully intending to throw the key in the bushes on my way in the front door. But somehow, instead, I just hold it tightly, squeezing it until I can feel the ridges pressing themselves into my skin.
When I get in the front door, Lizzie and Claudia stand up suddenly, snapping a laptop closed. Their cheeks are flushed and their mouths hang open, as though I caught them in the middle of laughing.
“Hey, hi guys,” I mumble awkwardly, wrapping my arms around myself and remembering that I'm wearing someone else's shirt.
Claudia raises her eyebrows and rakes me over with her eyes, sucking in her cheeks judgmentally.
“Oh,” she purrs. “Looks like somebody had a good night. Did your daddy loan you that shirt?”
I rock back and forth a little, feeling suddenly woozy again. “Um, no… he's not my… I just —”
Lizzie sucks her teeth in disgust. “Your daddy owes me $400.”