Tap & Gown (4 page)

From the raspy sound of Soze’s voice, he’d reached the end of his rope already. “Can’t we just trust that D176 knew what they were doing when they designed it the way they did?” He looked at me with a plea in his eyes. What? I was supposed to jump to the defense that D176 were some kind of masterminds, just because I was dating one of them? My personal mastermind thought the plan his brothers had devised was a terrible one, and had made that perfectly clear to me on the steps out front last spring.

Although that wasn’t all I’d heard about last spring. Their so-called secret deliberations hadn’t been entirely secret, either. Malcolm had told me, at least, how they went about choosing who would be
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assigned a female tap.

“They didn’t design anything,” I said. “They drew straws to see who would be the ones to tap women.”

“So you think we should draw straws?”

“I think if the argument is that we should do it like D176, then we should base that argument on the way they actually did it. They didn’t assign gender tapping responsibilities to certain knights, which is what we’d be doing if we said all the women had to tap women. They did it randomly.”

“I could roll with that,” Thorndike said. “Fifteen of each, and we all have a 50/50 chance. With the understanding, as I said before, that transgendered people are to be considered according to their self-defined gender identity—”

“Tell me again,” Lucky said, “which of us you think is going to be looking to tap someone transgendered?”

“You have a problem with that?” Thorndike snapped.

And on it went for another half an hour.

“My problem,” Soze said wearily, “is that I don’t think they had fifteen of each. I think they picked the ratio of six to nine and drew straws that way.”

“
Gosh
,” said Puck. “If
only
someone in here had the phone number of a patriarch, so we could call and verify.
Who
might have that on her person?” He looked at me. I shrugged and pulled out my cell phone.

Let’s just finish this and go home
.

“So what?” Thorndike says. “Poe’s word is now our law? Haven’t we spent this entire year doing basically the opposite of whatever that dick says?” She glanced at me. “No offense.”

Whatever. A few months ago, I would have been glad to hear someone else say it. And even if I was offended that she was impugning my boyfriend, I had to admit that Thorndike had a point. I hardly ever agreed with Poe’s take on society traditions, and he outright hated ours.

Funny how I’d forgotten all of that down there in the Florida heat. Was it saltwater poisoning that had so addled my brain? Back at school, in this tomb, I was constantly reminded why it was that I had always butted heads with my now-boyfriend.

Whether or not he could help us in our present predicament wasn’t the point. I didn’t want to turn to Poe at the first sign of trouble or discord. We could do this ourselves. We didn’t need the help of patriarchs. For once, I wanted to prove that we, the knights of D177, could handle something on our own.

Especially since it was the last chance we’d have to do so.

I put my cell phone away and sighed.

Forty-five minutes later, Puck was either nodding off to sleep or pretending to, Angel had lapsed into silence, and both Lil’ Demon and Graverobber had long since given up any pretense of paying attention.

Big Demon appeared to be counting the stars painted on our ceiling. I was pretty sure Lucky was
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surreptitiously checking her e-mail on her iPhone. (Either that or she was texting Tristram Shandy, who also had his head lowered and his robe-draped hands hidden underneath the table.) Kismet, Frodo, and Bond looked wearily on as Juno, Thorndike, and Soze battled it out. I leaned my left elbow on the carved armrest of the throne, rested my chin in my hand, and watched.

And watched.

And watched.

I couldn’t even think of anything more to say at this point. I wasn’t entirely sure what the scope of the argument was anymore. I’d had it in my mind fifteen minutes ago … but now all I could think about was my five-page-a-day diet to get my thesis done on time. I guess tonight’s schedule was shot. My right hand dangled the gavel over the side of the armrest, the nape of my neck grew irritated from the rasp of the robe against my skin, and my left foot began to go to sleep.

CRACK!

Everyone looked up. I scrambled off the throne to retrieve the gavel from the floor. “Sorry,” I said, tripping over my robes as I climbed back up the dais. “You were saying, Thorndike?”

“No,” said Angel. “I think you were saying, as Uncle Tony, that we need to
get the hell on with this.”

“I agree,” said Lucky. “Maybe dropping that gavel was an act of God.”

“Persephone,” said Juno.

“Whatever. It means the time for discussion is over. I second the Knight Bugaboo’s motion that this debate be brought to a close.”

“Um, all in favor?” I said, leaping at the opportunity.

Unsurprisingly, the motion passed.

“So what are we left with?” Lil’ Demon asked. “I can’t even follow anymore.”

“Fifteen of each marble, and we pick at random,” Soze grumbled. “This is going to be a disaster.”

“It’s only fair,” Thorndike said smugly.

“Fine!” Soze crossed the room and from a cabinet withdrew a vase and a leather bag filled with marbles.

“For the purpose of this operation, black marbles will be for men, red marbles for women—no discussion, okay?”

Thirteen heads nodded. Soze counted them out, poured them into the vase, and shook it around.

“Everyone pick, but keep your hand closed. We’ll reveal them at the same time.”

He walked around the table, and each knight picked a marble. He approached me, and I stuck my hand into the vase, rooted around a bit, then closed my fingers around one and pulled it out. The glass sphere felt cool and solid inside my fist. Soze picked last, then held the vase out to me again. “As the evening’s Uncle Tony, please pick a second marble for our missing fifteenth member.”

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“Our what?”

Soze cleared his throat and mumbled, “Howard.”

I did, with my left hand.

I spoke. “Knights of Persephone, rise.” Around the table, everyone stood and held out their fists. “At the count of three: one, two, three.”

Everyone opened his or her hand. My right palm held a red marble, my left held black. I glanced around the room, making a quick calculation.

Nine black. Six red.

Exactly what we already had.

1*And some of my friends were still muttering the word “Stockholm” in my vicinity.

2*Upon closer examination … no, he did not. Then again, two theses.

“I can’t believe it,” Josh said, punctuating his sentence with a well-aimed kick at the edge of the walk.

“All those hours, wasted.”

“Were I a religious man,” George said, strolling along the deserted sidewalk two steps behind us, hands resting easily in his jacket pockets, “I’d say this was the universe’s way of telling you people to chill out.”

Josh stopped dead and whirled around. “Well, maybe if you picked up some of the slack around here, we could. You’ve never taken society matters seriously enough.”

“Yeah,” George replied. “Wonder why that is?”

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Not entirely true. George knew when to take it seriously, and when it was just a bunch of stuffy traditions that ought to be ignored.

I stepped between the two of them. “All right, guys. It’s late, we’re all tired, we’re all a little in shock over the outcome. Let’s just table any more discussion until tomorrow, okay?”

Josh turned and stormed off down the sidewalk toward Prescott College. George shrugged and fell into step with me. “I do think there’s something to this ‘universe’ theory of mine,” he said.

I murmured in assent. Maybe there was. How else to explain the results? Hours of debate, and we ended up with exactly the same ratio as our class.

“Or maybe it was just the universe’s way of telling us that D176 had it right?” George continued.

I didn’t have the where withal to respond to that one, either. Upon seeing the marbled results, I’d immediately called the meeting to a close, and the other knights were smart enough to agree it was a good move. No one had the energy to react in any way that was either useful or wise. Demetria, in particular, looked ready to implode. We’d deal with it tomorrow.

I looked at my watch. Two A.M. I mean, tonight.

Josh was still storming off in front of us. I didn’t envy Lydia his foul mood. Perhaps it would have been a good idea for him to go back to his own room this evening. However, it had been quite a while since I’d seen my roommate spend the night alone, and it certainly hadn’t happened since Spring Break. I don’t know what went on over there in Spain, but whatever it was, it had brought their relationship to a whole new level.

Josh said nothing when we met him at the Prescott gate. I wondered if he felt weird entering my suite with me only a few steps behind—as if not entering by himself was his admission that it was, in fact, still
my
suite. That he was a guest there, not a full-time resident.

Though he’d certainly come in alone often enough when I was inside. Sometimes it felt like I lived inside a sitcom, where your friends felt free to walk inside your house without knocking whenever they wanted.

George stopped at his usual entryway. “See you guys later,” he said, and as the door closed, I noticed he went not up the stairs to his room, but rather cut to the right and headed into the basement.

Huh? These are the things in the basement:

1)
The laundry room. Chance that George was washing his whites at 2A.M .: 0%

2)
The Buttery. Hamburgers, pizza bagels, and grape sodas galore, but at this time of night, it was locked up tight.

3)
The underground passageway to all the other entryways in the building.

I quickened my pace, took the stairs up to my entryway two at a time, yanked open the door, and sprinted down the basement passageway just in time to see George’s fabulous butt disappearing into the corridor toward the sophomore wing.

Huh.

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I met a quizzical Josh in front of our suite door on the first floor. “What was that all about?”

“Nothing.” I pushed past him and into the common room. Where was George going? At night? In secret? “I thought I’d forgotten to take my clothes out of the dryer earlier.”

“But then you remembered?” Josh asked.

Not that I cared what George did. I’d totally moved on. He could have as many two A.M. rendezvous as he wanted with as many sophomores as he cared to. No skin off my back. I had a boyfriend
and
I was over him.

“Yep.” I tripped over the laundry bag of obviously dirty Spring Break clothes I’d dragged into the common room that afternoon and then promptly ignored.

“Uh-huh.” Josh shook his head. “Night, Bugaboo.”

I cringed as he vanished into Lydia’s room. “Two dollars,” I hissed after him, but I doubt he heard.

Whatever. Like it mattered what Josh thought any more than it mattered what George was doing. If he even was doing what I thought.1*Or if he was doing it with a sophomore. Could be anyone. Why should I concern myself anyway? I had Jamie, and that didn’t bother
George
one iota. He’d even started to support it. Time to get over yourself, Amy.