College Chronicles Ep. 15 Pt. 01

"Don't worry. Usually freshman go around checking out all the different houses, but we already know where you're going, you can stay with me."

She snaked her arm around mine, grabbed my hand and pulled it to her chest, using that tether to pull my eyes along after, and fixing me with a gaze full of compassion.

"You ARE going to need to get to know some more of the girls, but I'll help. Promise."

I didn't know what to say; getting to know people was one of my great fears... But I already knew some of the girls at her house... And with Cindy to help... I offered a shy smile, signifying I was at least open to the idea, and she returned to her glowing sunshine grin.

"Good. So we throw a couple 'open' parties to meet new girls, then there's the closed events-- invite only. Basically, the sorority votes on who they want to bring back after each party, and fewer girls are invited the next night. That happens twice, until the last night of rush week."

I piped up, hoping I could guess what happened next, dreading that I already knew.

"And then... You're a sister?"

"Well... Not yet..."

A smile spread across her face, sly and sinfully rotten, confirming my dread.

"Until the end of freshman year, you're a 'pledge,' so you still have to... earn your way into the house."

My blood ran cold; I had heard about this part, the abuses that potential members had to withstand to become permanent fixtures. Every year there was at least one tragic report in local news about alcohol poisoning, a fall down stairs or from the window or roof of a house. Then came the fear-mongering, the campaigns, the protests against fraternities and hazing and toxic culture.

"Uhm... So... Uhh... Is that... 'hazing'?"

I was nervous to ask, between what I'd heard and what I knew about Cindy's dedication to her organization, worried I might piss her off, or not like the answers she gave me. She knew my thoughts, whether through our deep connection, some special empathy, or telepathy.

"Yeah, there's hazing-- No, don't freak out."

She cut herself off in cutting me off, correctly reading the raising of a hand and my eyebrows, a move to defensively preempt her suggestion, preempted itself by her assuaging tone.

"I know, I know, it sounds bad... Really really bad. But it's not actually like the rumors. Most of it's just drinking, some stupid games, maybe a little embarrassment... Well, except hell night..."

She trailed off, and I couldn't help but tense up at the idea of enduring whatever was called 'hell night'. In a second she looked back up, a wry smile adjusting her pitch.

"I won't lie, some nights suck... But I'll be there, and you'll have your big taking care of you, too. And the bonding... Seriously, I said you'd make friends; that's what pledging is really about. You'll go through such shit with those girls, once it's done, you're family."

"Uhm... B-but... I don't..."

I stumbled, struggling to express my fears and step carefully around Cindy's enthusiasm. Eventually, I found a question to focus on.

"...like... what... happens?"

Her response was as quick as it was condescending.

"Oh, I can't discuss Sig business with someone who's not a sister or pledge."

She gave me a far too pleasant smile, sending a twinge of frustration down to an impotently clenching fist.

"You just... have to trust me, it's so worth it. There's a formal each term, we do mixers with some of the frats, every year we choose a charity and raise money, which is great for your resume..."

She continued, waxing poetic on the merits of sororities and membership. I half-listened, wondering just how screwed I was when we returned from winter break.

*

The rest of the flight passed nearly painlessly; I got bad motion sickness upon our approach for landing, but managed to hold myself together without losing my breakfast. After disembarking, we found the sole bathroom in the tiny, sad airport. I splashed water on my face to feel a little fresher, and when I looked up, found Cindy's luminescent eyes waiting in the mirror.

"You should change now, right?"

I jumped, realizing I was still Sami, and relatively near my home. Much too close for comfort; what if someone I knew happened to be at the airport? But I hadn't put any thought into what was I going to do, how I would cover up my... new self.

"Oh fuck--"

I spun from mirror-Cindy to real Cindy, heart racing, sweat already beading at my forehead in

"--I didn't bring anything! What am I--"

But Cindy stepped forward, hands raising to grab one of mine. Her soothing tones caught me before I could begin to spiral; not cutting me off, but slowing me to a gentle stop, a cushioned release of my panicking energy.

"--Woaahhh, hold on... I brought some clothes for you..."

My chin wagged for a few moments as I processed her words and adjusted, trying to rein in galloping fear, find words to respond. But I couldn't, instead throwing my relief and thankfulness at her as a hug, clinging to my buoy in stormy seas. When I released her, she went fishing in one of her suitcases, and pulled out my Sam disguise. The baggy jeans, dark t-shirt, and loose hanging hoodie emblazoned with our school logo did look like something I would wear... Used to wear.

I threw them on quickly, then checked myself in the mirror; not great. My long, well-maintained hair tipped me from androgynous to full on feminine, even without makeup, accessories, or girls clothes. I grabbed handfuls of it in both hands, staring at myself in fearful disbelief. I'd gone too far, and now I couldn't go back. When I turned from my reflection to Cindy, I was full of despair again.

"What can... Do you... Do you think we can find scissors?"

"Excuse me?!"

Cindy's cry was indignant, almost mad, and I cringed at her rise in volume.

"Did you say scissors? There is NO fucking way you are cutting your hair!"

She laughed, suddenly bubbling with charm, and I couldn't help but laugh with her at my own foolishness. Of course my hair couldn't go; it had taken so long to grow out, and become one of the few parts of my body I was proud of. Cutting it for a couple weeks wasn't worth it... But how could I hide it? It was going to give me away. My laugh trailed off awkwardly, speaking to my nervous disbelief, but Cindy provided her solution.

"No, I love your hair. It stays. We'll just put it up in a bun."

"A bun? For the... For the whole week?"

I was dubious. That was a long time to have my hair up. I was worried it would damage it, or hurt, or wouldn't be convincing; any avenue I could find for my swelling anxieties. But Cindy read me like a book, responded to settle the unspoken riot of my emotions.

"Yeah! You can take it out at night, duh. It's not that bad, I'll show you how to do it so it's not so heavy. You'll be a pro by Christmas!"

I knew from previous experience that any more complaining would be summarily dealt with, so I held my tongue while she fixed me. With just a hairband and a few pins, she worked a marvel of engineering and quickly had my locks suspended.

"Come on, let's go! I've got a car waiting, just need your address!"

She didn't give me time to fret, tugging me towards the door before I could truly check myself out in the mirror. I pulled up my hood before grabbing the rest of the luggage and running out after her, hoping for the best.

*

Less than an hour later we pulled onto my street; the only street I had known as home before college. It was odd rolling past the familiar trees and houses for the millionth time, almost like I'd never left. But I had, and so much had changed.

The house looked exactly as I remembered, from manicured lawn to fading eggshell white paint to the slightly rusty window frame I'd spent so many mornings and nights looking out through. Even the sky seemed unchanged from when I left; the same fluffy wisps of cloud floating by, the same dancing motions from trees tossing in a breeze. I exited the car and stood for a moment, staring, building courage to approach the old familiar ground in a new and unfamiliar way. Cindy, struggling to wrangle multiple suitcases at once, noticed my nostalgic pause and rudely interrupted.

"What the fuck? Gonna help?"

I jumped and turned, beginning to mumble an excuse. But before I could get a syllable out, I was cut off by a familiar voice from behind.

"Sam?!"

Light and airy, like a curtain blown in a gentle breeze. I'd know her voice saying my name anywhere. I spun back, for once totally forgetting Cindy.

"Mom!!"

She stood framed in the door, peering across the front yard with a strange look on her face. But I ran towards her and it was gone, only a beaming smile remaining, welcoming me home.

*

I haven't really said anything about my parents. They're a bit of a sore spot; nothing serious, no drama or secrets to to speak of. Just... A disconnect. And a little more, that was out of their hands.

They'd been the perfect couple; highschool sweethearts, prom queen and king, college long-distance lovers, then reuniting in their hometown. The American dream, a house and two kids. And to be honest, they were always happy like that, just growing old together in the same play they grew up.

My dad, funnily enough, had once been the football champion of the local highschool. He still crowed about his exploits on the field, his big wins and the trophies on display in a hallway that I'd crept through many times. He was tall and thick, more like Jaxx's body type than anywhere close to me. There had always been a sense of anger radiating from him, as if he resented me for being so unworthy of his legacy. He'd never hit me, yet I was afraid of him and the icy, brusque condemnations I'd often received throughout childhood.

'Man up... Stop being a wuss... Real men don't cry...'

Mom on the other hand, was soft and warm and cuddly and supportive. The best mom you could ever have-- except for being totally cowed by my father, completely under his thumb. But that was negligible, for how she showed her love, spent time with me. She hadn't just taught me to love cleaning; she was the source of my passion for the academic, starting me on a unknowing path to nerd-dom by reading me Harry Potter and anything else when I was young. More than that, she had imparted a deep sensitivity, an awareness of other people's feelings that was equally curse and gift, one that my father clearly despised.

Despite all the good, there's a reason I don't like to talk about my mom, too.

At the very beginning of freshman year in high school, she dropped me off for the day. And that was it, that was the mistake which really doomed me. Some kid caught a glimpse of her gorgeous face and trim body through an open window, and by the time I walked into lunch, word was out.

It started with whispers and pointed stares, but I only really noticed when a pair of boys walked by me aggressively humping the air. As would become my tradition, I was sitting alone in a corner of the cafeteria when Max slumped into the seat across me, backed by a trio of henchmen.

Max wasn't the best looking person in the world. He wasn't unattractive exactly, and if you squinted he became almost handsome, but there was something a little twisted, a little rodent-like about the shape of his nose, the placement of his eyes, the angle of his eyebrows. He was big, but in a stocky way, though he wasn't short. It was a squat thickness that lent his physicality a certain imposing quality. He attained and held his popularity and relationships with the hottest girls at school not through handsomeness, but through the sheer ruthlessness of his cruelty. In highschool the coolest things you can do are hurt people and not give a shit about things; Max was an expert in both fields.

That was still before Aurora arrived at school, before wedgies and lockers, before his extended campaign of terror on my life. I was less wary than I should have been, still with naive wide-eyes. I even stupidly believed he might be trying to be friendly, before his mouth opened to speak.

"'Sup, faggot?"

I never really got used to the casual deployment of such vicious slurs, but especially then, I was unprepared to handle it.

"Oh... Uhm... I... Uhh..."

He bulled along, not waiting for me to catch up.

"I hear your mom's a dimepiece huh?"

I had no idea what that meant.

"Uhh... What?"

He leaned back, punched one of his backers softly and gestured to the other two. The three started laughing all at once, and he turned back with an unpleasant look on his face.

"Your mom is fucking smoking hot.."

"Oh... Uhm... I guess--"

I meant to finish 'I don't see her that way' but he cut me off before I could, eager to make fun.

"What the fuck? Did you just say your own mom is hot?"

The henchmen chimed in, and at the time I found them intimidating, though in retrospect they were as pathetic as all bullies are.

"Huh-huh, yeah he did."

"Max I heard it too!"

"What a freak!"

I tried to protest, but I especially struggled with stuttering back then.

"N-nuh-no I--"

"--nuh-nuh-nuh-nuh-fucking retard."

He chuckled at himself, echoed by louder, stupider laughs from behind. Then his expression shifted meaner.

"Where do you live?"

"W-what? Why?"

"So I can come around and fuck your mom. Bet she's got a dump truck ass, right bitch boy?"

I struggled to respond to the barrage of insults and obscenity, but the conversation moved on without me.

"I-... Uh--"

"C'mon, what's your mom's number? I'll slide in those texts."

He humped the air in his seat, and it didn't matter that we were young high schoolers and his threats weren't real; what mattered was he was talking about mom like that. His backers laughed in unison again at the crude joke, and I felt red come down over my eyes; I still hadn't had the fight beaten out of me.

"F-fuck you!"

Suddenly Max and his entourage became silent, as if I'd said the first curse of the conversation.

"Fuck YOU, faggot. Give me your mom's number or I'll beat the shit out of you after school."

"N-no."

Max had swept my food onto the floor with an easy swipe, and then ambled away with his followers, laughing as I tried to save some of my lunch. But he was good to his promise.

The verbal abuse from other students about my mom only increased throughout the day, and by last bell word of the 'fight' had spread around school. Max's devotees found me trying to sneak out of a side entrance and dragged me to a tennis court at the back of the school, where he stood in a ring of excited onlookers.

As the low hum became cries for blood, beating the shit out of me proved even easier than Max had expected. He'd delivered a hard punch straight to my stomach, knocking the wind from my lungs and my body to the ground. I gave up straight away, curling into a fetal position, heaving and struggling to breathe, just hoping I wasn't crying too much.

I'd been aware of the crowd's disappointed grumbles, the wet impact on my side when Max spit his disrespect, and the hard impact of a shoe against my back as one of his henchman took the opportunity to pile on. I lay there through it and after, knowing if I waited long enough everyone would go away bored, and I'd finally be safe.

It ended up as a defining moment of the next four years. I was forever the kid who went down in one punch and got spit on; an announcement of open season on the school weakling. Even if people were generally kind, they knew they could take out their anger safely on me, use me for the cruelty-centric social climbing of highschool.

It was also the start of things with Max. And while the rest of the school eventually forgot about my mom, he didn't. It was one of his favorite callbacks-- asking for her number, telling me when he'd seen her around town, describing in graphic detail things he wanted do to her. I tried my best to ignore it, but eventually, after so much repetition, his connection to her stuck in my mind and poisoned our relationship. I distanced myself, turned down offers of rides, refused to tell her where I was going and what I was doing; anything to keep worlds as separate as possible. I knew it hurt her, could see it in her eyes, but she played it off as a sulky teenage phase and endlessly forgave my slights... Which only made my guilt worse, which only made my treatment more callous. A vicious cycle.

*

But I had escaped to college, and everything had changed. Back home, freed of most of fears, I could really be open to her.

"Mom, I missed you!"

People always said I took after my mom, and I had resented the thought and all its implications. But with the changes that I'd undergone... It was undeniable. She was petite and curvy, with a body that spoke to both motherhood and religiously regular exercise. When she pulled me close, I realized her face was SO similar to the one I'd been seeing in the mirror. As she held a hug, I stroked her long, luscious brown hair, thinking about how like mine it was in every way but color.

"Wow! I missed you too honey!"

She squeezed me extra tight, and I snuggled into her, relishing my return. For too long; my mom prompted me back to the real world by speaking over my head.

"Oh, hello... Sam, don't be rude, introduce your friend!"

I recalled Cindy, and slowly, regretfully pulled back from my mother's warmth. Cindy had already come to join us, leaving the luggage in a pile on our sidewalk.

"Oh it's okay Mrs. White, Sam really missed you. I'm Cindy, and it's GIRLfriend, actually!"

As soon as I'd stepped away from my mother, Cindy stepped in, beginning a hug that surprised my so much it took seconds to process the words.

"Nice to meet you Cindy, you-- did you say GIRLFRIEND?"

When she caught up, my mom couldn't hide her disbelief, in tone or expression. She stepped back, holding Cindy at arms length, really looking her up and down. When she'd confirmed what she thought she saw, she caught herself and jumped slightly. Releasing Cindy, she turned to me with a guilty look on her face.

"I mean... I'm sorry honey you just never... All through highschool. Your father and I thought--"

"--That's... It's okay mom."

I didn't want to know what they thought, whether it was that I was gay or too much of a loser or something else. There was an awkward silence for a moment, my mom looking at me helplessly, Cindy behind her with an inscrutable expression. Then mom found herself, clearing her throat and showing me her wonderful beaming smile before turning back to Cindy, who instantly matched her joy.

"Well isn't this the best surprise ever! Come inside Cindy, I have so many questions! You are just GORGEOUS by the way, how did you stay so beautiful on a ten hour bus ride?!"

She grabbed Cindy and walked her towards the house, leaving me to gather up our luggage by myself. I didn't mind, already smiling at hearing Cindy begin to wrap my mother around her fingers already.

"Oh my goodness you're one to talk! I thought you were Sam's SISTER at first! But thank you so much! And I don't do buses; we took a plane."

"What-- a PLANE?! How much did that cost?!..."

I tuned out as they advanced and entered the house, considering next steps. I'd never been concerned about Cindy coming to my home; only what my family might do or say to her. And my mom had been the easy part- she could get along with anyone I brought home, even Jaxx (I stopped that thread of thought before it trailed too far, afraid of where it led). The trickier part would be my dad and brother, their reactions to Cindy... And me. With luggage awkwardly under control, I took a deep breath and walked down the familiar path to my old front door.

When I had dragged as much baggage as I could across the threshold, it was like nothing had changed. Everything was in its right place-- even my old coat and rain boots, neatly tucked away with the rest of my family's gear in a corner, where I shed my shoes next to Cindy's. I could hear her and my mom continuing their conversation in the kitchen, but I didn't join them immediately.