Chapter 68: Beta Alpha Sigma

Chapter 68: Beta Alpha Sigma

College Hill, Rhode Island. September 2011.

Travel isn’t synonymous with tourism, which meant there was absolutely no valid reason my face needed to be buried in a brochure. 

A volunteer tour guide even accompanied me. Who, instead of requesting I tag-along, forcibly dragged me behind her. “Impressive, isn’t it? This campus is sprawling. Colonial era Georgian style architecture, connected by acres and acres of manicured lawn!” Laundry was of greater import for me, at the moment. My poor stretched-out sleeves would never recover from this rough handling. “Certainly picturesque, but I wager I’ll be hitting the books too hard to admire any view beyond the library shelves!” Girthy pair of lungs on Emma. She hadn’t even paused to replenish her oxygen after her speech before she started cackling at her own joke.

“Take a breath, yeah? We’re at Brown university, not blue-face academy. Hyper’s one thing, try to ventilate afterwards, as well. Don’t need you passing out—it’s a terrible look for a bloke to be carrying an unconscious girl around a college campus.” Now, naturally, ditching my day job may encourage some to posit the question: why was I here? Which… actually, that’s a good bloody question. I didn’t rightly know the answer. Why was I here? “Emma, why am I here? I’m meant to be on vacation.”

Somehow, she had more to expel from her bottomless vital capacity as she sniffed in derision. “Puh-lease! As if you even know the meaning of the word.”

“Sure, I do! I just got back from Irelan–”

“—That was for work.”

“W-well, I’m also headed back to LA—”

“—For your Limitless premiere, you mean? Try again.”

“… Japa—”

“—I wonder why you, of all people, would want to visit to the country where Uniqlo is headquartered, hmm? And don’t think I’m unaware of that secret trip you’re taking to New York, either.”

Hurriedly patting myself down, I skimmed through any nooks, crannies, pockets, and sockets. “Do I have a bug on me or something?”

“Yes. His name is Alfie Allen. You must recall he and my younger brother stayed in contact–ugh, stop that!” Emma reached over to swat away my frisky fingers; I recoiled and slap-fought her efforts away.

No chance I was letting her plant anything else on me—not even a kiss. “Never! Keep your mitts to yourself!”

“Fine!” Victory was two clenched fists perched on cocked hips. “Excuse me for expecting moral support from one of my best friends! Two years of deferred intake caused by Hallow’s delay and my other contractual obligations. Months of sleepless nights spent balancing studies, filming, and exams, has culminated in my lifelong wish for higher education. Brown is prestigious enough. I’ve also busted my arse to secure the foreign exchange programme with Oxford. Oxford. Which means that regardless of whether I’m filming Perks of Being a Wallflower here in the States, or whatever fresh projects Anita gets me back home, I don’t have to sacrifice my education for my career anymore. Sue me for wanting to celebrate that achievement with someone!”

Emma’s made money modelling; hence, I know what she looked like when she was being paid to pout. Point being, I wasn’t buying those pursed lips of hers.

“Yes, I understand that bit. Congratulations, yada yada.” Every facetious twirl of my wrist wound Emma up more and more. She was vibrating like a mechanical monkey toy—no doubt there’d be cymbals crashing on either side of my head soon. “I meant, why me, specifically?”

“Are you really asking me that? As the very person who played no small part in my scholastic success, I know damn well how good that fat head wobbling on top of your shoulders is. I thought by bringing you here it might inspire you to foster your talents instead of squandering them.” There was a kernel of the full story in that tirade, but I could still tell she was trickling the honest truth. 

I was persistent and refused Emma the opportunity to be as well by grasping her hands in mine. My gentle action stopped her short. “Lies, even of omission, tend to make one nervous. Nervous people often have sweaty palms.” I used Emma’s own hand to plaster a moist splat on her cheek. “The evidence, my dear, is damning.”

“You brute—!” Whap! “Prat—!” Whap! “Savage—!” Whap! I helped Emma beat the truth out of herself. “Okay! Okay… Fact is, I’m worried about the loneliness I’ll have to bear the next four or so years.”

Ah, this again. “It’s just early day jitters. You got over it on Cloverfield and The Descendants. You’ll do just fine at uni, too.”

“It’s not the same thing! Dealing with actors versus actual people is entirely different. There’s a level of separation between me and the rest of the student body I’m afraid I’ll never be able to bridge, Bas. It’s necessary, and I’m supremely grateful that the school adhered to my request—but the ‘no-photo rule’ isn’t helping my case, either.” Her limp wrists stiffened up and her nails dug desperately into mine, crumpling the pamphlet.

“Me joining alongside you is liable to widen that gap, you realise? There’s a bodyguard patrolling twenty-four-seven around my perimeter.” Emma whipped her head around to where I’d jerked my chin to reveal Fedex, who’d infiltrated a social circle of senior students. “She literally carries around a gun. And besides, it’s a little late in the day for admissions, anyway.” 

“Why do you have to be so difficult?” She despondently head-butted my sternum. “Just pay your way in the same way every other richie student has, and come be my study-buddy.”

“Listen, I’m not doing that. College is for kids who have no idea what they want out of life, or for people who have a solid plan. I’m happy coasting on charm, alone. Also, any seat I’d be dropping out of should deservedly be allocated to some genius from Asia who stitched their own mother’s caesarean section the day they popped out of her.” 

“Then why the fuck did I bring you here!?” Precisely my question!

Letting go of her arms, I grabbed her face and yanked it off my chest before she smeared green snot across my white shirt and presumably her face, too.

Just because I’d gotten used to her cosplaying Shrek doesn’t mean the world must suffer the same horrific image. 

“What I can do is help you get a head-start on your social life.” Taking her slouched shoulder under wing, we strolled across the campus. “First idea that comes to mind is a staple. Why not pledge a sorority? Like-minded people, busy event calendar, and quintessential college experience.”

I gestured towards a pretty sizable manor with an ostentatious Alpha Chi Omega arching over the main door. 

Directly on the stoop beneath it were a handful of beach chairs occupied by a bunch of preppy bitches getting their feet massaged by, who I assumed were, prospective new members debasing themselves as part of rush week. 

When I looked at Emma to gauge her response, I lifted my shoe to check if I hadn’t stepped in something. No other reason she’d appear so revolted. 

“Right… Something about this scene doesn’t fill me with confidence that I’m going to be discussing assignments for my women’s studies course with anyone here.”

“You shouldn’t underestimate them, Watson. I’m sure these lovely ladies have loads they can teach you.”

“I hardly need to learn how to win a wet t-shirt contest.” That wasn’t very supportive of your fellow females, Emma. Was that derision in your tone? For shame.

“But, I do.” I’d better lend my approval to recover their depleted self-esteem. 

“No. You don’t” She clinched my ear.

I rescued myself by pinching her brochure. “Alright, jeez! Be boring, then. Gymnasium’s got a massive extracurricular club exhibition. Plan B, it is.”

Turning imperiously on her heel, she tore me away from co-ed paradise. “Plan B has rather a different meaning here. Don’t mention it, or those airheads might just forget to pop theirs tomorrow and end up pregnant.”

–

Ever thought about bossing around eight huge, buff dudes and having them do whatever you say without question?” What was that about getting preggers, again? We were currently on hardwood flooring, but this was ridiculous.

Emma and I had been skating around the expansive sports hall, as touts carefully skirted around our identities. Student body run booths clamoured for freshmen to sign-up with their respective societies. I was, of course, ineligible. Meanwhile, Emma only grew increasingly inconsolable when she discovered no one had organised a netball club—probably because this was America, and basketball existed.

On the bright side, it spurred on to pursue the creation of her own club. But, on the broadside, her newly chipper attitude had encouraged a hulking behemoth to loudly approach us. My eyeline angled straight at his nose, showed how badly he needed a pore strip.

“I have trouble enough with just the one. So, yes, I would definitely love practise on that front.” Poor girl had apparently never been to the zoo. Didn’t she know you weren’t supposed to feed the animals? 

“Then you’ll find no finer instruction than at the men’s rowing crew! Your build is perfect, and we’d love for you to be our coxswain!”

“Only if you guarantee nobody’s gonna stick it in my scuttlebutt.” I couldn’t resist. 

“Bro… I don’t even know how to answer that.”

“Ignore his nautical nonsense—he does that sometimes. I’m intrigued, though. I wouldn’t suspect a woman would be allowed as part of a men’s team in any sport.” 

“It’s a pretty typical configuration in men’s crew. I can show you both if you’re interested. We’re scheduled for a demo sesh at the aquatic centre. You should totally come check us out!”

“Sure, why not? Bas is coming along, too.” I saluted Emma’s maritime edict.

“Aye aye cap’n.”

–

“All our shells—boats, sorry—are constructed of carbon-fibre reinforced plastic. More importantly, we name them after fish. This red one’s for our beginners.” Which couldn’t have been made more clear when I nearly capsized the narrow dinghy getting in.

Thankfully, Fedex was on hand to hold valuables, electronics, and shoes.

I swear the six other dudes climbing in had quads thicker than the seats we were squeezed into. 

“Herring?” Her mount at the tip, and petite size, gave her plenty of room to navigate without threatening to tip us over as she leaned over and read our raft’s moniker.

Oars plunged into the pool and pushed us away from the lip. I fumbled, trying to follow.

“Less intimidating than barracuda. Okay, so as the coxswain, it’s your job to keep our heading, and keep us heaving. Everyone rows except you, but you set the rhythm for the pulls. Ready?”

“Ready!” It only occurred to me as Emma wailed her first command that I should’ve warned my shipmates how healthy her lungs were. “Stroke! Stroke! Stroke!”

As we collectively lost all sense of coordination from her offbeat sonic attack—stroke was exactly what the symptoms indicated. A lot of splashing and sloshing happened compared to our lack of forward momentum. Didn’t seem to hinder the crew too much, though. They were just happy getting whipped by Emma Watson or Hermione Granger, depending on their individual fantasies.

A single overzealous pump from the burly bullock in front of me sent me slipping out of the canoe and spilling into the chlorinated drink.

Water immediately invaded my sinuses, “Bas!” but did little to dampen the noise that resulted from my dive. I floated up, soaked face first, to a hurricane of hoots, hoorays, and hahahas. That, combined with the mouthful of water I spouted vertically out, made me feel like a right Moby dick. “I must admit, I was wrong earlier, Bas. Wet t-shirt contests might genuinely hold appeal!”

My see-through shirt completed my humiliation. 

Drenched translucent as they were, every fibre of my being begged retaliation. However, the chemical sting in my eyes cleared my vision, and showed me Emma fitting into the ship, and by extension university, far easier than she’d feared she’d fare. “Then can I also take it you see the appeal in tackling school life solo?”

“Well, I’m certainly not as marooned as you are. So, I suppose I’ll live.” A coy smirk on her face, she dipped her foot into the water ‘til just below the rolled cuff of her capris, and kicked a wave of droplet spray that sent me careening further away from the vessel. Her implicit answer—thank you, I’ll be okay. “In that same vein, though, d’you think your brief time at college has taught you anything?”

Mainly, that I need not be an emotional anchor anymore.

“Yeah. I learnt I’m gonna need a bigger boat.”