Hell Week Read Online Free PDF Page B

skit."

    Holly glanced at me, saw the drink in my hand, and lifted her own. "I thought you said you were already sloshing on the way over here."

    Raising a toast, I clinked our glasses. "Why are we here, if not to drink the Kool-Aid."

    "Cheers, then," she said.

    "Sl�inte," I answered, and we drank.

    A cherub-faced girl came out from behind the screen, and I groaned softly. Worse than a skit--a skit by precocious children. She went to the piano. A lanky boy emerged, and to my surprise and bemusement, slipped the strap of an electric guitar over his head. A couple of SAXis moved the screen aside to reveal, along with the amp for the guitar, a small drum set with a pigtailed preteen seated behind it, sticks in her hands and a smile on her face.

    A woman--older than us, but not elderly by any measure-- walked to a small podium. She wore a smart, charcoal gray pantsuit, a silk scarf at the collar. Her strawberry blond hair was neatly coiffed and her smile warmly practiced.

    "Good evening," she said. "I'm Victoria Abbott, one of the chapter advisers."

    "She says that like it's supposed to mean something," Holly whispered in my ear.

    "She's the wife of our congressman," I hissed back. Holly wouldn't know since she wasn't from here. "Nice suit."

    "Well, yeah. It's Armani."

    I processed this--the distinction of a three-thousand- dollar suit, and the fact that Holly recognized one. Casting my eye over her, I paid closer attention to the excellent cut of the black and white dress she was wearing.

    "I'd like to briefly tell you about the Roll Over Beethoven Foundation--Sigma Alpha Xi's chosen philanthropy, not least because it was started by SAXi alum Susie Braddock."

    An awed ripple moved through the group. Even a loser like me had heard that name. Ms. Abbott continued. "The Roll Over Beethoven Foundation promotes music education in schools, and funds free after-school music programs. But why don't I let the program speak for itself." I tensed as the kids began to play. The opening bars were instantly identifiable. They were covering one of my favorite songs by--I kid you not--the Talking Heads. And they did not suck.

    If I was looking for a sorority, for sisterhood or network- ing, or for mixers with the frat boys across the way, I would have totally taken it as a sign. 4

    I arrived at Froth and Java for the second time in the same day, which was actually not that unusual for me. What had me a little off balance was a message from Cole Bauer that had been waiting on my cell phone, asking me to call him. I did, but ended up leaving him a voicemail in return. So much had changed since that morning, and I felt slightly disconnected as I smoothed my windblown hair and checked my reflection in the front window of the coffee shop, won- dering if I should put on lip gloss.

    Justin was already inside, staking out a pair of deep chairs good for conversation. He stood when he saw me, and we did another one of those unsure dances of greeting. Fi- nally he took my shoulders, leaned down, and kissed my cheek. And I blushed. I could feel it spread over my skin, from the top of my dress to the roots of my hair.

    "Hey," I said, brilliantly.

    He stepped back and grinned as he looked at me. I still wore my sundress, though I'd taken off the despised name tag. He'd showered and changed into jeans and a green and white rugby shirt. Close up, I could smell him, clean and sort of spicy, beneath the overwhelming scent of coffee. While there might be some uncertainty to our relation- ship, there was no ambiguity about the way I felt when I was near him.

    "You look great, Maggie."

    A short lock of hair fell against the heat of my cheek, and I brushed it back. "Thanks. I've been working out."

    Justin laughed, because he knew how ridiculous that was. He gestured to the chair perpendicular to his and I sat, setting my cell phone and car keys beside his on the side table.

    "So, what's this about going undercover?"

    "With the Future Stepfords