Blood Games

CHAPTER SEVEN

Meredith Hardin, Dean of Women at Belmore University, chose the wrong time to throw a fit of shrieking indignation.

It was in May. Almost a full month of classes remained before the end of the semester, the start of summer break. The weather was warm, the air rich with moist and flowery aromas. The girls were restless.

Meredith Hardin also chose the wrong girl to crush.

The girl was Barbara Dixon, Finley’s roommate.

Abilene returned to the dorm late from Benedict Park, where she’d spent more than an hour pressed between the trunk of a tree and the body of Robbie Baxter. Her back felt a little sore from the rubbing bark. Her face felt hot and raw from Robbie’s whiskers and too much kissing. So did her breasts. Robbie was crazy about them. Since Abilene wouldn’t allow him any liberties below her waist, they’d received the brunt of his attention. They’d been caressed, kissed, squeezed and sucked so much that they itched and burned.

Entering the room, she found it crowded with Helen, Finley, Cora and Vivian. ‘What’s going on?’

‘You sure took long enough getting here,’ Finley said.

‘I was busy.’

‘You look it.’

‘Who took sandpaper to your mouth?’ Cora asked.

Helen, laughing, said, ‘Robbie ought to shave better.’

The sound of his name made Abilene’s heart pound faster, warmed her and gave her a funny tightness in the throat. ‘Yeah. Next time I go to the park with him, maybe I’ll take my Lady Schick.’

‘Did he pork ya?’ Finley asked.

‘Screw you. And no, he didn’t.’

‘What’re you waiting for, Hell to freeze over?’

‘Keep holding out,’ Vivian advised her. ‘Once they get it, they act like they own you.’

‘I might like that. As long as it’s Robbie.’

‘Wooooo,’ Finley said. ‘The babe’s hooked.’

‘Anyway, what’s everyone doing here? Just hanging around to interrogate me about Robbie, or what?’

‘Yeah,’ Finley said. ‘Drop your pants for a cherry check.’

Helen giggled.

‘In point of fact,’ Cora said, ‘we’ve been trying to conjure up some fun. Too damn dull around here. We haven’t had a real blast since we nailed the Goddamn Sigs.’

‘And that’s ancient history,’ Finley pointed out.

‘We’re trying to come up with an idea that’s really daring,’ Vivian said.

‘Like what?’ Abilene asked.

‘Haven’t figured it out, yet. But something to do with Hardass.’

‘We want to get her,’ Vivian said.

‘I’m all for that.’

Until coming to Belmore, Abilene had been convinced that people like Meredith Hardin didn’t actually exist in real life. The woman seemed too awful to be real — a caricature of prim bitchiness. Finding such types in the movies and on TV, and in the pages of melodramatic novels, her eyes had rolled skyward in disbelief. She’d pitied the poor writers responsible for creating characters so totally, unbelievably excessive in their evil, self-righteous, cold-blooded prudery. There simply weren’t people like that.

Then she caught the Meredith Hardin show at Freshman Orientation.

The woman stepped up to the lectern and, even before she opened her mouth, the audience of noisy co-eds went silent. This was the Dean of Women. This was Bad News. This was a crone with a cruel face and eyes of ice — all the worse, it seemed to Abilene, because she was neither old nor ugly. She was dressed like a man in a tailored gray suit. Her white blouse was buttoned at the throat. Her face was pallid, her lips nearly as gray as her suit. Her red hair was pulled back tight and bundled into a knot behind her head. She wore no jewelry at all that Abilene could see.

When she began to speak, Abilene was surprised she didn’t have a thick German accent.

Abilene could still remember bits and pieces of Hardin’s ‘welcoming’ speech. ‘As students at Belmore University, you will always conduct yourselves as ladies… Loose behavior will not be tolerated… You will attire yourselves at all times with appropriate modesty… There will be no gutter language at this university… The consumption of alcoholic beverages on campus is strictly forbidden… Any and all infractions of what we deem to be proper and decent behavior shall be dealt with by yours truly. I am fair, but I am strict, as you shall no doubt come to appreciate.’

It might have been funny, but it wasn’t.

As the direct result of Hardin’s opening remarks, four freshman girls — including Abilene’s initial roommate, immediately dropped out of Belmore. In the words of the roomy while she packed, ‘There ain’t room on this campus for me and that tight-ass cunt.’

‘Hey now,’ Abilene had said. ‘Watch that gutter language.’

The girl had laughed, then added, ‘She’s probably a dyke, to boot.’

‘Oh, don’t say that. You’re giving a bad name to the entire lesbian community.’

‘She’ll get you, you know.’

‘Maybe I’ll get her first.’

‘Rotsa ruck.’

During the months following Orientation, Hardin had shown herself to be true to her words. She’d caught Vivian on the way to class wearing a tube top and mini-skirt, fixed her with an outraged glare, and demanded, ‘Just where do you think you’re going, young lady? I’ll tell you precisely where you’re going — back to your room where you’ll change out of that sluttish costume and put on proper attire.’ She’d once caught Helen chewing gum. ‘Swallow that immediately, young lady. You look like an empty-headed cow masticating its cud.’ And she’d once nabbed Abilene dressed in a sleeveless sweatshirt and cut-off jeans. ‘This is a university, not a slum.’ Abilene had politely explained that she was on her way to play basketball. ‘Did you hear me request an excuse? No, I hardly think so. There is no excuse for slovenly attire — nor for backtalk. Am I understood?’

The woman was ridiculous. But a master of intimidation who seemed to revel in her talent for reducing girls to tears.

She’d failed to win tears from Vivian or Abilene, but Helen had wept in humiliation over the bovine reference. And yesterday Hardin had driven Barbara Dixon into mindless, blubbering hysteria.

Finley had found the girl in her room afterward, in such a state that she herself had tears in her eyes while she told the story to the others.

Barbara had been alone at a table in the student union, pouring a dollop of rum into her Pepsi just as Hardin walked in and spotted her. Hardin took the flask. Sniffed it. Said, ‘Come with me.’

In her office, she’d raged at Barbara for an hour. She’d called the girl a ‘drunken degenerate,’ a ‘social misfit,’ a ‘blight on Belmore University,’ a ‘filthy, booze-sucking slut.’ On and on. And worse. She’d phoned Barbara’s mother at home. She’d phoned Barbara’s father at work. She’d ranted at them and explained that their delinquent daughter would be placed on probation. Finally, she’d concluded her show by emptying the flask onto Barbara’s head.

After hearing the story from Finley, the girls had tried to cheer Barbara up. Without success. Today, she’d rented a car, packed all her belongings, and headed for her home in Seattle.

‘What’ll we do to her?’ Abilene asked, sitting down on her bed between Finley and Vivian. ‘It’s gotta be something good.’

‘Get her drunk,’ Finley suggested. ‘Strip her naked and leave her tied to a tree in the quad.’

‘That’d be great,’ Cora said.

Helen beamed.

‘I don’t think she’s worth a prison term,’ Vivian said.

‘Yeah,’ Abilene agreed. ‘We’ve gotta come up with something realistic.’

‘If it doesn’t at least include kidnapping, assault and battery, it’s too good for her,’ Cora said.

Finley nodded. ‘She oughta be gang-banged by a slobbering crowd of escapees from an insane asylum.’

‘And that’d be too good for her,’ Cora said.

‘Yeah,’ Abilene said. ‘And it’d be cruel to the lunatics.’

‘Besides,’ Helen pointed out, ‘she might enjoy it.’

‘Let’s get real, gals,’ Vivian said. ‘Come on. There must be something we can do that’ll really nail her.’

Abilene nodded. ‘Nothing we could go to jail for. Just something that’ll piss her off so bad she’ll go ape-shit.’

‘We can’t do that,’ Vivian said after they’d finally hit upon a plan.

‘I will,’ Abilene assured her.

‘I dare you.’

‘I dare you.’

‘Double dare you,’ Finley added.

‘Double dares go first,’ Vivian said.

‘You bet.’

The five of them dared and double-dared for a while. Nobody backed out.

‘Then it’s settled,’ Cora finally said. ‘Tomorrow we go for it.’

On the ground floor of the administration building that housed Meredith Hardin’s office was the campus bookstore, which closed each weekday afternoon at five.

At ten minutes before five on Wednesday, the day after Barbara fled from the campus and her friends plotted conspiracy in Abilene’s room, Finley led the bookstore clerk away from the counter to help her locate a textbook. Abilene and Helen rushed behind the counter, ducked into the stockroom, and hid themselves in the maze of file cabinets, shelves and stacked boxes.

A few minutes later, the clerk entered just long enough to turn off the stockroom’s lights.

When she was gone, Helen nudged Abilene with her elbow and chuckled softly.

They waited in the darkness. After a while, Abilene removed her flashlight from the sack of food she’d brought along. She crept to the door and eased it open. She glanced around the silent, deserted bookstore. Then she reached down to the outside knob. She tried to twist it. The clerk had left it locked.

She shut the door and went back to Helen. ‘Just like I thought,’ she whispered. ‘They keep it locked. I bet the custodians don’t have a key, either. Not for the stockroom. Maybe not even for the bookstore.’

‘So we’re safe, right?’

‘I think so.’

‘Can we turn on the lights?’

‘That’d be pushing it.’

Sitting cross-legged on the floor, they drank root beer by flashlight. They ate cheeseburgers and french fries. When they were done, they turned off their flashlights. They talked softly and waited.

Waited for ten o’clock.

According to Finley, who spent a lot of time wandering the campus at night, the custodial staff usually finished cleaning the administration building and left it before ten.

At ten, Abilene and Helen would leave the stockroom, sneak out of the bookstore, and open an outside door to let the other girls in.

At five after eight, however, Helen whispered, ‘I’ve gotta go.’

‘What?’

‘All that root beer.’

‘You’re kidding.’

‘I’m gonna explode.’

‘Go in your cup.’

‘Abbyyyyyy.’

‘I mean it.’

‘I can’t. I need a toilet.’

‘Oh, man. The custodians are probably in the building.’

‘Please.’

‘Okay. There’s probably a john in the hallway. But be careful. If anybody spots you

‘You’re coming with me, aren’t you?’

Abilene hadn’t planned on it. Though she’d consumed as much root beer as Helen, she’d intended to either hold on until ten o’clock or use a cup.

‘I don’t want to go alone.’ The pleading tone of her voice reminded Abilene of Helen’s experience in the shower room at the start of the school year: the lights going off, the hand touching her.

‘All right, I’ll go with you. We’ll take our flashlights.’ Abilene led the way. She inched open the door. The bookstore was dark except for a faint glow of lights coming in through the windows along one wall. Stepping out, she turned on her flashlight. As she walked around the counter, she heard the stockroom door bump shut. ‘Crap.’

‘What?’

‘Did you unlock it?’

‘Huh? Oh, no.’

‘There goes our hideout.’ She thought about the A & W bags and cups. No big deal. ‘You didn’t leave anything, did you? Other than the stuff from the A ’n Dub?’

‘No. Did you?’

‘Nope. Thank God.’

‘They’ll know we were in there.’

‘They’ll know someone was. No way to figure out who, though.’

‘Can you get fingerprints off that stuff?’

‘You can. But we aren’t gonna murder anybody. I’m sure the cops wouldn’t go to the trouble.’

‘Sure hope not.’

Following the bright beam of her flashlight, Abilene went to the door of the bookstore. Then she shut off the light. She turned the knob and eased the door toward her.

The hallway was dark.

‘Fantastic!’ she whispered. Leaning into the hall, she looked both ways. The only lights came from the green glow of Exit signs at each end. She stepped out. ‘Don’t let it lock.’

‘Got it.’ Helen came into the hallway behind her. ‘Maybe the janitors have already left.’

‘They might be upstairs, I guess. But you’d think they’d light up the whole building if they were here.’

‘Maybe they have Wednesdays off.’

‘Or they haven’t arrived yet. Come on. Let’s make it quick.’ She and Helen hurried through the hallway, checking the doors with their flashlights. Near the center, they came to a door marked LADIES. Abilene pushed it open, and they entered the dark restroom. Helen rushed into the first stall, Abilene into the next.

As she shone her light on the toilet, a groan came from Helen. ‘What?’

‘No t-p,’ Helen muttered, and rushed past her to the third stall.

Abilene’s stall had a roll of paper. The toilet seat looked clean, but she didn’t want to sit on it. Her dispenser of paper seat covers was empty. So, after latching the door and pulling down her pants, she squatted above the seat without touching it.

She was scared, trembling. She couldn’t relax enough to go.

From the sounds she heard, Helen was having no such problem.

Then she heard the distant clamor of a closing door.

It sent ice sliding up her back. It sent her urine squirting into the toilet bowl.

‘Oh, my God,’ Helen murmured.

‘Kill your light and be quiet,’ Abilene warned. She switched off her own flashlight. But couldn’t stop peeing, and neither could Helen. Though the splashing sounded awfully loud, she doubted that it could be heard from the hallway. If someone came into the restroom, though… ‘Whatever you do,’ she gasped, ‘don’t flush. Stand on the seat when you’re done. And make it quick.’

‘Do you think they’re coming here?’ Helen sounded ready to panic.

‘Who knows?’ She finished. She groped some toilet paper, dried, stood up straight, pulled up her panties and shorts, and climbed onto the seat. One hand held the flashlight. The other held the waistband of her loose shorts. She wished she had a spare hand to press against a wall of the stall; her perch on the seat felt too precarious for comfort.

This isn’t such a hot idea, anyway, she thought. If it’s the custodial staff, someone’s bound to come in.

The restroom was certain to be a place they cleaned, and hiding in the stalls wouldn’t do any good at all.

From beside her came a gasp. Then a heavy, thumping splash. ‘Shit!’

‘Shhhh.’

‘Oh, yuck.’ Splashing, dripping sounds. ‘I stepped in it.’

‘Shhhh.’

The restroom door sighed open, and the light came on.

‘Go ahead to my office. I’ll be along in a minute.’

Hardin!

‘Yes, ma’am.’

We’re dead, Abilene thought.

Footsteps approached, heels clacking on the tile floor. Abilene held her breath.

Hardin entered the first stall.

The one without toilet paper!

Abilene heard the latch of the door clack into place. Garments rustled. The toilet seat creaked quietly. A long honk of blowing gas resounded through the room. ‘Fucking chili,’ Hardin muttered.

Abilene, terrified, didn’t even come close to laughing. She prayed that Helen felt the same way. If the girl should crack up now… but she didn’t.

Then came a tinkling sound, another roar of chili thunder.

‘Damn bitch,’ Hardin said.

The girl she’d sent ahead to her office? Abilene wondered who she was, what she’d done. Must’ve been something damn serious for Hardin to be nailing her at night. Damn serious, like maybe wearing a short skirt.

This could ruin the whole plan, she thought.

And felt like an idiot for worrying about the plan.

You’re doomed, and you’re worried about the damn plan.

Any second now, Hardin would see that she had entered a stall with no toilet paper. Then, she’d come next door to try her luck.

Make a break for it now? While she’s still sitting down, her door latched?

Run like hell?

What about Helen? The move to escape would take her by surprise. She had farther to go than Abilene. And she wasn’t nearly so quick on her feet.

Abilene might make it, but Hardin was sure to throw open her door in time to spot Helen.

Then it was too late.

The latch of Hardin’s door clattered. A quiet squeak announced the opening of her door.

Footsteps.

Oh God, oh God, no no no!

The sound of the footsteps receded.

Hardin was walking away!

Abilene heard the restroom door swing open. The lights went out. A moment later, the door bumped shut.

She stood motionless, gasping air that was rank with the aroma of used beans and onions. No sound came from Helen’s stall.

After a while, she whispered, ‘Are you all right?’

‘My right foot isn’t.’

Abilene laughed. Helen started to laugh.

‘Did you hear what she said?’ Abilene asked.

‘Gutter language.’

‘She didn’t wipe, either.’

‘She didn’t flush.’

‘Didn’t even wash her hands.’

‘What a hog!’ Helen gasped.

‘Thank God she’s a hog. That’s all that saved us.’

Abilene stepped down from the toilet seat. Flashlight clamped under one arm, she fastened her shorts, opened the door and stepped out of the stall.

A moment later, Helen came out. ‘What’m I gonna do about my foot?’

Her right sock, sodden, drooped low around her ankle. Her tennis shoe looked soaked.

‘It’ll dry. Come on, let’s get back to the bookstore.’

‘You want to go ahead with it?’

‘We’ve gone this far. We’ll just have to make sure she’s out of the building by ten.’

Abilene turned on her flashlight. She hurried for the restroom door. Helen followed, one shoe squelching.