Blood Games

    ‘We could always drink it in the comfort and safety of the dorm,’ Abilene said.

    ‘We’re gonna get in if I have to kick the fucking door down.’

    ‘One of us might be able to climb in through that,’ Finley said, pointing at the open transom above the door.

    Cora stared at it. ‘Yeah. You’re the smallest.’

    ‘You’re the jock.’

    ‘Cora’s ass might get stuck,’ Vivian said.

    ‘Screw you.’ With that, Cora put away her credit card and purse. ‘Give me a boost.’

    Abilene and Helen made stirrups of their hands. They squatted. Cora stepped aboard. They lifted while Vivian and Finley shoved at her rump. Cora pulled herself up by the sill. In seconds, her head and arms were through the gap. She squirmed. The girls thrust her higher. ‘Yeeow!’

    ‘What?’ Abilene asked.

    ‘My tits. Finley, you bitch, you could’ve gotten through easy.’

    ‘Me, too,’ Vivian said. ‘But you’re the fearless leader.’

    ‘Everyone let go of me.’

    The girls stepped back. Kicking, writhing, groaning, Cora squeezed her torso through the space beneath the window. Then she went motionless, apparently resting before the final assault. Her legs were bent, knees braced against the top of the door, feet up. Her rump did look larger than the gap.

    ‘Here comes the hard part,’ Vivian said.

    ‘Screw all of ya,’ came Cora’s muffled voice.

    She kicked her legs, twisted, squirmed, lurched, growled. Her rump made it through the transom. Her shorts didn’t. As she fell out of sight behind the door, the gym shorts travelled down to her ankles where they were snagged by a latch at the bottom of the transom and plucked from her disappearing shoes.

    Helen giggled.

    Inside the office, Cora thudded.

    Vivian jumped. She grabbed the shorts, gave them a flip, and freed them.

    Muttering a string of curses, Cora opened the door.

    ‘Lost something,’ Vivian said, and handed over the shorts.

    Cora put them on. She and Vivian picked up the grocery bags, and everyone entered the office. Abilene shut the door after them.

    They walked past the secretary’s desk, through a doorway into Hardin’s office. Abilene shut that door, too. Cora flicked a light switch, and overhead fluorescents blinked on.

    ‘Hey!’ Helen protested.

    ‘It’s okay,’ Cora said, nodding toward the closed blinds.

    ‘Light’ll still get through,’ Abilene said.

    ‘Not much. Besides, we’re on the second floor. Nobody’ll notice.’

    ‘And I can’t record the event for posterity if we don’t have the lights on,’ Finley said. She lifted her camera and began to tape.

    ‘That better not fall into the wrong hands,’ Cora warned.

    ‘Nobody’ll ever see it but us.’

    Cora and Vivian set their sacks on Hardin’s desk. They removed bags of potato chips and com chips, a stack of plastic glasses, two bottles of tequila, two cartons of lemonade, and a clear plastic bag full of ice cubes. As they began to prepare drinks, Abilene looked around the office.

    In front of the big desk was a single armchair with brown vinyl upholstery. The hot seat, she thought. Probably where Barbara was sitting when Hardin dumped the rum on her head. Some must’ve gotten on the carpet. Sure enough, the old gray carpet was stained around the chair. More than a litde rum, Abilene guessed, had been spilled there.

    A couple of straight-backed chairs stood just inside the door. There were bookshelves against two walls, filing cabinets in one corner. The room reminded her of other campus offices she had seen: cluttered with books, pamphlets, magazines, stacks of paperwork. Only the top of Hardin’s desk was tidy, bare except for the telephone, in and out baskets, a Rolodex and a pen set -and the items brought in by Cora and Vivian.

    Soon, all five glasses were fully loaded with ice, lemonade and tequila. ‘Help yourselves, ladies,’ Cora said. She took one, went around to the rear of the desk, sat in a swivel chair and put her feet up.

    The others lifted their glasses. They waited while Helen finished breaking into a bag of potato chips. When she finished and picked up the last glass, Cora raised hers and toasted, ‘To us.’

    ‘More guts than brains,’ Abilene added.

    ‘That’s for sure,’ Vivian said.

    ‘Daring young maids,’ said Finley.

    ‘Can’t believe we’re doing this,’ Helen said.

    Then they drank.

    Vivian made a face. ‘Yuh! This stuff is strong.’

    Abilene hadn’t watched the preparation of the drinks. From the taste of hers, however, she suspected that her tequila had been flavored by a splash of lemonade.

    ‘Yum yum,’ Finley said.

    ‘So Hardass was in here tonight?’ Cora asked.

    ‘Yeah,’ Abilene said. ‘And she nearly caught us.’

    While everyone sipped their drinks and munched chips, she told the story of their trip to the restroom.

    ‘You stepped in the toilet?’ Cora blurted, laughing.

    ‘It was dark,’ Helen explained.

    ‘Gross,’ said Vivian.

    ‘I wondered what that smell was,’ Finley said.

    ‘So anyway…’ and Abilene went on. They all cracked up when she told of Hardin’s fart. ‘And she said, “Fuckin’ chili.” ’

    ‘You’re making that up,’ Vivian protested.

    ‘No lie. That’s just what she said. Helen heard her.’

    ‘Yeah, that’s what she said.’

    ‘And you should’ve smelled that sucker!’