Free Rites of Spring by Diana Peterfreund

would learn exactly where I fell on his lengthy list. Second, so would everyone else. I had spent a week preparing to hear him report the gory details of our affair to our entire club. But he hadn’t even touched upon it—for reasons that were still beyond my comprehension.
    “I could always present a coda,” he said. “If you think it’s necessary.”
    “Is that a threat of some sort?” I asked.
    “A threat?” He pressed his hand to his chest. “You wound me, Amy.” He also hadn’t called me “Boo” since I’d broken it off in November. It had been Amy outside the tomb and Bugaboo inside. He stared at me through his copper-rimmed glasses. His eyes, gorgeous as always, were steady and unblinking. “I wasn’t even the one to bring it up. You’re the one who has sex on the brain. Feeling frustrated? You can tell me.”
    I abandoned the table then and there. Maybe I was frustrated, but I also had a date that could, hypothetically, fix all that.
    When Brandon arrived at my room, his face was practically glowing. “I got in!”
    “To what?” I said.
    “NYU. Math!” He grabbed me and spun me around. “I just had to tell you first.”
    I beamed. Eat your heart out, George. Knowing that Brandon wanted me to be the first to know his news was so much better than sex. “Oh, Brandon, that’s amazing! I’m so happy for you!” I enclosed him in a hug. “I’m applying for some stuff in New York, too. We could be together there next year. Wouldn’t that be wild?”
    And he hugged me again, which was not really an answer, but never let it be said that Amy Maureen Haskel doesn’t do denial with the best of them. I didn’t even have the heart to ask him about his breakup conversation with Felicity after that. He was in such a great mood. Why spoil it with sad remembrances?
    Brandon and I spent the rest of the evening in my room, talking about everything in the world but what was going on with him and Felicity, and doing everything in the world except the kind of activity that might lead to something I’d have to relate in a Connubial Bliss report. The rules, apparently, still applied.
    Curious.
    The pattern repeated for several days in a row. He’d come over, ostensibly there to help me out with my applications, but not a moment’s work would get done. “This is boring,” he’d say. “Let’s put on a DVD. We deserve it.” Which was all well and good, except I didn’t deserve it yet. I still hadn’t gotten into grad school.
    Sometimes it felt like senior year in high school all over again. Once you got into college, nothing seemed very important. You’d skip classes, blow off homework, party on weeknights. Now, with most of my friends’ futures secure, I was witness to much of the same behavior all around. Not that I indulged too much. After all, the shenanigans from Dragon’s Head were getting more outlandish every day (I’d taken to keeping my shower supplies out of the bathroom, as the other day I’d found my conditioner bottle filled with blue dye, my soap covered in drain hair, and all the safeties removed from my razor blades), and I was a bit nervous about what they’d try on me if I ventured out and about.
    My fellow knights were at a loss as to revenge schemes. Attacking one society member for the crimes of all of them was taboo in our little culture, and we were pretty sure Dragon’s Head was keeping a close eye on their tomb after our most recent raid. Their attacks on me were reminiscent of the kind of pranks we pulled on barbarians, not other society knights. Our rivalries were held to a different standard of honor entirely. Dragon’s Head was breaking the code by treating me like a barbarian. I admit I was beginning to pity—or at least empathize with—poor Micah Price, the last barbarian victim of Rose & Grave. The guy had been a first-class jerk, and had caused a huge amount of pain to both my fellow knight Jenny and the society as a whole. But, on the other hand, we’d