Frat Girl

“About two years ago.”

“Have you ever been sexually assaulted?”

There is a pause. “Yes.”

I drop my pen and look up.

“By a current or former member of a Greek organization?”

She turns her head and looks at the mirror, at me. After a second, she turns back to Stephanie. “Yes,” she says, her voice barely making it across the room to the mic.

I grab the computer and pull it onto my lap.

STOP, I type.

Stephanie clears her throat, stalling.

I’m so sorry that happened to you, I type, and Stephanie parrots it. If it’s not too much to ask, could you tell me as much as you feel comfortable with about what happened?

Lily shifts in her seat. “Um...sure. So, I was at a party at—at one of the bigger houses three years ago, my freshman year. I’d been there a few times for events. I’d made it into a pretty good sorority, one of the top houses, you know? My mom was a member, and she’s superbig with all the alumni stuff. I didn’t really fit in with those girls, but...but that doesn’t matter. I’m getting off topic. So anyway, I didn’t have that many friends among the girls, like real friends, you know, that would have your back, but it felt like I was safe, right? Because I was with my sisters. So I guess that made me feel like I could get really drunk, you know? But it’s not like I was really drinking that much more than anyone else. I mean it was a frat party, so...”

She exhales. “So we’d had the pregame with them and I’d started drinking pretty damn early. But I didn’t black out.” She holds up her hand. “That’s really important to know, that I remember everything. Not that it would excuse anything if I didn’t. But I’m just saying I remember everything he did, and there’re no parts I’m missing, so this should be good evidence, right?”

Stephanie nods.

“So right. I’m pretty drunk by the time other people start to get to the party. I see this guy I’d met a couple times at other events. He’s older, and seemed pretty nice the other times I’d seen him...

“I’m that level of drunk when you’re feelin’ good but not like superdrunk anymore, and you’ve convinced yourself that you’re gonna sober up any moment so you need to drink more.

“So he starts talking to me, and pretty quickly I ask if he knows if they have any more alcohol, since the kegs were running out. It’s pretty common at these things to have the bad alcohol in the main room, and then people, like upper-tier Greek Life people, they can go into the back rooms and drink better stuff.

“So he nods and leads me off, and I’m thinking we’re gonna go to a room with like ten or twenty people in it, my sisters and his brothers, that kind of thing.

“And then, well, yeah...” She looks at her shoes. “The room was empty. He, uh, he locked the door and pushed me onto the bed and started kissing me, and, ugh, at this point I just, like, think he’s gotten the wrong idea. That maybe I’ve been sending signals that I wanted this, that maybe this is my fault.”

She laughs, and it’s a hollow sound.

“So I kind of start to push against his chest, lightly at that point, and saying things like, ‘Hey, let’s go back to the party’ and ‘I’m not really in the mood’ and ‘I don’t really want to right now.’ Trying to be nice.” The last word sounds like she’s spitting.

“But he keeps advancing and shushing me. So I start pushing harder and saying no, like a forceful no, and I start to realize he doesn’t really care what I’m saying.

“And that’s when I panicked, when I knew what was happening.

“And I yelled, but it’s so loud at those things, people probably couldn’t hear me. Or, I mean, that’s what I’d like to think.”

She wrings her hands. “He, um, he raped me, and then he left. He went back to the party.”

Her face is pale, her lips almost white.

“And I just left, walked across campus alone. I kind of, uh, shut down. I should’ve called the police right then, I guess, or told someone, but I just went home. The pain was gone, but only because I felt, like, nothing. Not like I was okay, but the opposite. Like my mind could not handle what happened and just stopped.

“And I showered, which apparently was a bad move.”

She’s quiet for a long time.

“Did you tell anyone?” Stephanie finally asks.

“Not for a while. I didn’t know how to tell my ‘sisters’ or whatever, you know, because I was this quiet freshman they only put up with because of my mom, and he was in one of the best frats on campus. I mean, maybe they would’ve believed me. In retrospect, of course they would have—they weren’t monsters. But then...” She shakes her head, and tears bead in her eyes. “I was just so confused and so mad I didn’t know what to do.”

The room is quiet.

“And it got pretty bad, and I—I ended up in the hospital, and they made me talk to someone. But she kinda sucked. But they wouldn’t let me quit counseling if I wanted to go back to school, so they switched me to Sasha instead.”

She smiles, weakly. “She kind of rocks. So I ended up telling her, and getting better, you know, and quitting the sorority and finding new friends, good friends, and some of them are in sororities even.”

She touches the scarf. “That really helped, talking about it. Telling someone. I can live now.” Her voice is tight.

She slides off the scarf. “It’s kind of warm in here, huh?”

“Yeah.” Stephanie stands. “We can turn on a fan, if you want. Or take a break? Get some water?”

“No, I’m fine.” Lily straightens her back. “What’s your next question?”

“We really don’t have to—”

“What is your next question?”

“Would you like to see them gone?”

“What? The frats?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t care.”

“Why?”

“Because fuck that. Because I was raped and they want to change his fucking housing to deal with it? Are you kidding me? He wasn’t playing music too loud after hours—he attacked me. I want him in jail. I want him hung, for God’s sake. Not his club disbanded, boo fucking hoo.”

“Some people think frats create misogynistic environments.”

“The world is a misogynistic environment. He was in math club, too. Do you think if they get rid of that, it’ll make up for what happened to me? Getting rid of the frats is a fucking cop-out. Something big needs to be done. It’s not a frat problem—it’s a human problem. It happens everywhere, in the army, at work. Hell, you wanna talk about misogynistic environments, I worked at a tech start-up last summer and let me tell you—”

She stops abruptly and exhales. “Sorry, I’m getting worked up. The point is talking about how abolishing frats like that will get rid of assault or misogyny, it’s...reductive. And kind of insulting.”

Stephanie glances toward the mirror, which she isn’t supposed to do. I frantically type a question—But if there’s a victim that thinks it will help...?—and Stephanie dutifully asks it.

“Then burn them fucking down.”

Chapter Eleven

Stephanie looks to the window for help, but my brain is short-circuiting.

Lily clears her throat. “You know what? Sorry, but are we done here?”

“Um...” Stephanie turns back to the mirror and so does Lily, and she looks like she’s screaming behind her glassy eyes.

“I just really...” Lily looks around for help, but the room is empty except for the unhelpful Stephanie. “I can’t keep talking about this.”

I stand too quickly, and my chair clatters to the floor behind me. I remember the computer and pull it toward me, typing frantically. I need to know if she’s okay, if he was caught. I need to help her.

But the girl is getting up from her chair and wiping tears from her eyes.

This stupid system is too slow. I drop the MacBook on the steel table, cross the room and push open the heavy door without thinking.

There’s the flutter of a blue dress at the end of the hall before it disappears behind a door marked “Women.”

I practically sprint down the hall, my patent leather flats slapping the floor. A door to my right flies open. It’s Stephanie, headed to get the next interviewee, like nothing happened.

Her eyes grow wide as she looks at me, the door swinging shut behind her. “You aren’t supposed to be out here.”

But I don’t stop.

“Come back!” she yells after me. But I’m already at the bathroom door.

Lily is braced over the sink, looking like she might be sick.

“Hi.”

“Hi?” She turns to take me in, her eyes scanning me, trying to figure out if she knows me.

“My name is Cassie Davis. I was, uh, behind the mirror.”

“Oh.” She stands up. “That’s a little...”

I swallow. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine, I, uh, I knew someone was back there. I just didn’t think it was someone so...” She gestures vaguely, a tissue in her hand.

I nod, although I have no idea what she means. Her eyebrows furrow. “Are you supposed to follow me into the bathroom?”

I step back. “Uh...probably not. I’m not here, like, officially.” I gesture behind me. “I can go if you want.” My fingers brush the doorknob.

“No.” She bites her lip. “Please, I just...need someone. If that’s okay. Not that—It’s just... I’m just—”

My hand drops from the knob. “No need to explain.”

The door swings open behind me. “Observer 2!” Stephanie says.

I step in front of her. “Will you just give us a—”

“No, you can’t.”

I look from her to Lily.

“It’s fine,” she says. “I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“Just give me a second, okay?” I exhale. “Stephanie, can I speak to you in the hall?”

“I guess...”

I step forward, closing the door behind me to give Lily privacy. “Really?” I say through gritted teeth.

Stephanie is even more frazzled than I would have expected. “You’re not supposed to be out here. And you’re definitely not supposed to be talking to subjects outside the interviews.” She emphasizes every other word by waving her clipboard.

“She needs me.”

“It’s against all the rules. If you break the rules, you can’t keep being part of the study.”

“Then I quit,” I say without a pause.

“What? I’m—”

I head back into the room, swinging the door closed before I hear what Stephanie plans to do. I lean against the door so she can’t follow and turn back to Lily.

“I’m sorry,” I say. She just looks through me, so I keep talking. “And I’m sorry about earlier, about this whole thing—that was probably not easy to talk about.”

“You think?” Her voice is sharp.

I look down. I’m never good in situations like this. Alex is always better, with her bits of gritty wisdom, quotes from old songs and beat poetry.

“Are you okay?” I ask, not sure what else to do.

“No.” She licks her lips, wet with tears. “I mean, I am. I mean, I just don’t know.” She laughs manically and sits on the floor.

I reach for the paper towel dispenser and quickly hand her a piece. “So you don’t ruin your dress.”

She nods and takes it, slides it under her butt. I hand her another one, to wipe her face, then sit down beside her.

“He’s in jail now.” She dabs her eyes, looking up to the ceiling, a smudge of watery charcoal liner below her lashes. “My case was still being processed, whatever that means, when a girl walked in on him attacking her roommate. Since there was a witness, the case went pretty quickly.”

For a second there’s just the sound of a leaky faucet and two heartbeats.

She twists the paper towel in her hands. “Doesn’t really make it better, though.” She exhales and looks at me. But there’s nothing to say. “I mean it’s not—I try to not let it ruin my life, because then he’s hurt me twice, you know, and I won’t give him that. But sometimes when I talk about it, I still, you know, I get—” A tear slides down her bright red face. She swipes at it aggressively. “Shit, I’m crying again.”

I take her hands. She exhales, and it sounds jagged. “It’s okay,” I tell her. “You’re okay. Breathe.”

* * *

I can hear Madison Macey screaming through the receiver. I can’t make out everything, but I’ve heard enough snippets—“our investment,” “Cassandra,” “risk everything,” “basic academic procedure”—to get the idea.

Professor Price’s assistant sent me in midway through the call, at which point I was immediately keen to leave, but she gestured for me to wait. So here I sit in the chair in the corner and stare at my hands, trying to make myself as small as possible.

Professor Price gives one-word responses, and no indication of her opinion on the matter: “Yes.” “Sure.” “That’s reasonable.” “I see where you’re coming from.”

She doesn’t look over at me, instead just making brief notes or spinning in her chair and glancing out the big window. I turn back to my hands, studying my bracelet and chipped nail polish.

“All right, I’ll let her know. Thank you.” The phone snaps back into its cradle.

I look up. Professor Price is leaning back in her chair, still looking at the phone.

“Well, you’re in quite a bit of trouble.” She looks at me for the first time since I entered.

“I can expl—”

She waves her hand to silence me. “They’re right. The fact of the matter is you violated the rules of the study and risked the exposure of the entire project.”

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