Free Relatively Honest by Molly Ringle Page A

the inhabitants, and more apologies from me, I encountered one that was locked. I pounded my fist on it. “Julie?”
    “She’s not in here,” called a guy, laughing.
    “Who is it?” called Julie’s voice, a little anxiously.
    “It’s Daniel. I need your help. Could I please talk to you?”
    “Go away, dude,” said the other guy. Pressing my ear to the filthy door, I heard a murmur of protest on Julie’s part, and what sounded like a scuffle.
    I pounded on the door again. “It’s really important. There’s a fight going on – they’re beating up Sinter and Clare.”
    Someone came to the door and unlocked it. The flasher stood there, looking interested. “A fight?”
    Behind him, Elvis was sitting on the bed next to Julie, his arm tight around her. She looked scared when she met my eyes. “Yeah, they’re out in the back,” I said. “Started arguing, and then, bam, Sinter and this bloke are punching each other, and Clare’s jumping on his throat, and…really, we’ve got to get down there and get them out.”
    “Oh, my God,” said Julie. She escaped and hurried over to me.
    Elvis rose as well, and teetered his way to the door. “Cool, dude, I’ve got to see this.” He and the flasher stumbled past us. “They had a fight at Sigma Chi last month, but we haven’t had one here since, like, ’97!”
    Julie started after them, but I took her arm and said, “This way.” The two of us went the opposite direction, to another staircase that led down to the front of the house.
    “Are Sinter and Clare…” she said.
    “They’re fine. I made it up. Are you all right?”
    We were halfway down the stairs. She came to a stop and stared at me. “Made it up? You lied?”
    “Those two were about to rape you! If that sounds like your idea of fun, then by all means, go straight back up there.”
    Shaking, whether in anger or fear I couldn’t tell, she folded her arms and glared at me. “And who are you to haul me out of there, like I’m helpless, like –”
    “Oh, I am not having this argument,” I said. “I’m going home, thank you for inviting me, goodnight.” I left her behind, went down the stairs, and dug through the heap of coats on the card table until finding mine.
    Out in the cold night air, I had barely reached the pavement when her voice cut across to me. “Hey!”
    I turned. She was running toward me, wrestling her arms into her coat, looking furious. “Yes?” I said.
    “Well, you’ve ruined the party for me, so I might as well leave too.” She fell in step beside me.
    “Of course. I’ve ruined it. Darling, I never like to say this to a nice girl, but you’re drunk.”
    “That doesn’t matter! You were just jealous. You couldn’t stand seeing those guys dance with me.”
    Drunk girls who hit on the truth are the worst sort. “It wasn’t the dancing,” I snapped back, “so much as the notion that my friend was about to be violated by two strangers in a locked bedroom.”
    “You don’t know that.”
    “Hah. Believe me, sweetheart, I do know.”
    “Because you’ve done that kind of thing?”
    Now I was the one to stop in my tracks. I looked at her until she showed a glimmer of remorse, then I answered, “Never. Now, for the last time, if you want to rejoin the gentlemen of Beta-thingum, be my guest. But I do think Patrick would be glad I stopped things when I did. Don’t you?”
    She swallowed, and looked aside. Her mouth was thin and her eyes glistened in the streetlight, like tears might be brimming there. “Please don’t tell Patrick,” she said, meek and solemn.
    “As if I ring him every weekend.” I turned and began to walk again, wearily. She joined me. “Of course I won’t tell him.”
    “Thank you,” she mumbled.
    “What on Earth got into you, anyway?”
    “I was trying to have a good time. Like a normal sorority girl.”
    “Well, I’m sorry if I ruined it for you.”
    “I didn’t mean that.” She rubbed at her eyes with a shivering hand.