Page 86 of Palm South University: Season 2

I’VE ALWAYS THOUGHT OF ERINas the mom of our group. She’s the one who has her head on straight, the one with the conscience, the one who knows what to wear and what to say and what not to drink. But she’s been absent since Spring Break, tied up in executive board shit half the time and tied up in Landon the other half. I’ve barely seen her, other than the awkward twenty minutes with her and her real mom, and I’m not even sure she knows what happened last night between Jess and Ashlei. Which means it’s my turn to step up to the plate and put on my mom pants.

Jess hasn’t moved out of her bed all day, so I’m not surprised when I push through our bedroom door and see her still buried under the covers. It’s just after five in the evening, the campus slowly draining itself of parents. Jess’ didn’t even bother sticking around for today’s events, they just left me some cash for Jess and told me to send their love. They assume she’s hungover, but I know the truth—she’s feeling guilty.

As she should.

I leave the big light out, but click on the small lamp on my bedside table before climbing into bed next to Jess. She doesn’t fight me, just lets me slide under the sheets until we’re nose-to-nose. I’m silent for a moment, noting the smeared mascara around her tired brown eyes.

“I brought wine,” I finally say, reaching into the bag I pulled under the covers with us. The brown paper crinkles as I reveal a sweet moscato.

Jess cringes. “Get that away from me.”

“Oh, so you don’t want to drink anymore?” I nod, twisting off the top. Buying a bottle that needed a cork popped would have alerted Mom Cindy. I lift the bottle to my lips, shrugging. “I was so sure you were hell-bent on drinking yourself into stupidity.”

“I think I already hit that town last night.”

“I think you stayed in a hotel overnight and they named the city after you.”

She sighs, sniffling as her eyes connect with mine. “I get it, okay?”

“I don’t think you do, Jess.”

She throws the covers off of us in a huff, the cool air rushing in. “If you came here to lecture me, you can get the fuck out.”

“It’s my room, too.”

“Don’t be a bitch.”

“Me?”

She groans, snatching a pillow up and covering her face with it. “You’re not going away, are you?” she mumbles. I just wait, taking another pull from the wine bottle until she tosses the pillow back down. She exhales like a horse, her lips flapping dramatically. “I fucked up.”

“Mm hmm.”

“So now what?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing.”

Jess flips over to rest on her left elbow, her greasy blonde hair falling over her eyes. She brushes it back behind her ear slowly. “I was pissed, Skyler. They both hid that shit for who knows how long and then they get busted, on camera, and act like nothing happened. I’ve had to stick up for them against all of our sisters who are calling for them to be kicked out of KKB meanwhile I’m pissed at them, myself. And meanwhile, they’ve been like two fucking mice, not saying a word, not apologizing. It’s bullshit.”

“What exactly are they supposed to be apologizing for?”

“For lying! For, for . . .” she trails off, her hands waving wildly as she grasps for something else to be pissed about. “All of it!”

Pressing my lips together, I lean up against the headboard of her bed and take another sip of the wine. When I offer it to Jess again, she grimaces and pushes it back toward me.

“Listen, they don’t have anything to be sorry for. So what if they’re in a relationship? It’s no different than you being in a relationship with your teacher and not telling any of us about it.”

“We’re not in a relationship. And that’s different.”

“You so are, and no, it’s not. And what, they’re supposed to be apologizing for getting caught on camera having sex with one lucky son-of-a-bitch on Spring Break? I hooked up last week, too. I could have been taped just as easily. They’re not at fault here, Jess.”

“Oh, so I’m just some crazy mean bitch, then?”

“Don’t be dramatic.”

She eyes the bottle in my hand like she’s almost tempted to take a drink, but thinks better of it. Squeezing her eyes shut, she covers them with the heels of her hands and blows out a long, slow breath. “I was wasted.”

“That’s still not an apology.”