Chapter 8
Elizabeth looked at her paper and groaned. Only a twenty-eight? She’d never even seen a grade that low, and she’d helped Candy with all her make-up quizzes all throughout high-school algebra. At least most other people in the class looked displeased with their quiz results as well.
Steinberg looked more irate than usual. “Frankly,” he said sternly, looking down at them over the rims of his glasses, “I’m disappointed in you all. In case I didn’t make it clear, I expect you to do all the readings, as well as some outside research. It’s quite clear that most of you didn’t even come close to that. I’ll expect you all to do significantly better in the future. That’s all for today…” He paused and looked at his notes. “And will Baker, Davidson, Kilpatrick, and Summers please see me after class?”
Elizabeth flinched and went to meet her doom with the other three classmates.
Steinberg gave them all a cold look. “It’s quite obvious from your scores that none of you are ready to take this class,” he informed them.
“B-But I need this to graduate!” a scrawny boy with glasses exclaimed, practically hyperventilating.
“No,” Steinberg countered, “you need an art credit to graduate. I advise you all to take visual arts down the hall.” He handed them each a business card with a professor’s name, office hours, and phone number on it. “You should be able to pass just on attendance alone,” he added snidely, “which at least some of you ought to manage…”
“Isn’t that a year long course?” a meek Asian girl asked.
“Heaven forbid you should actually take a whole year on something as frivolous as aesthetics,” Steinberg said gruffly before snatching up his bag and stalking out of the room.
“Like he knows the first thing about aesthetics,” Elizabeth grumbled just loudly enough for the other three students to hear. It was just a defense mechanism, though. Underneath it all, she was fighting back tears. She’d never so blatantly failed at anything in her life.
“Maybe it won’t be so bad,” the guy with glasses tried to sound hopeful as he glanced at the professor’s card. “All we have to do is draw pretty pictures…”
“And we never have to see Steinberg again,” the jockish football player of their group added.
With a sigh, Elizabeth headed off to history. There was just no way this day could get any worse…
* * *
Elizabeth groaned at the paper assignment for history.
Beside her, Riley gave her hand a sympathetic pat. “It’s not so bad,” he insisted.
“Ten pages?!” she exclaimed in disbelief. “How am I supposed to write ten pages on anything, let alone something as boring as the Civil War?”
“There’s lots of topics that could go on for much longer than that,” Riley countered, pointing to one. “See? You could write a whole dissertation on the contrast between Lee and Grant’s battle strategies.”
“Maybe you could,” she grumbled, slipping the assignment into her notebook.
“So,” Riley began, rising to his feet, “you free for coffee?”
“I still have English after this class,” she reminded him.
He waved one hand in the air dismissively. “It’s Friday; skip it.”
“I can’t,” Elizabeth insisted. “I have to lead discussion today.”
“Bummer,” Riley shrugged. “But I’ll see you tonight when you’re officially made a Tri Xi girl, right?” he said with a little grin.
Elizabeth managed a smile of her own at that. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she agreed.
“Tonight then.” Riley leaned in to give her a quick peck on the cheek.
Elizabeth returned it halfheartedly, only to stumble when someone bumped up against her as they walked up the aisle. She didn’t even have to look to know that it was Spike. A slight pang of guilt passed through her at just how heartbroken he had looked when he first caught her and Riley kissing before class.
So absorbed was she in these thoughts that she didn’t even notice when Riley pulled away. “Definitely tonight,” he repeated with a little grin that hinted of something more.
Elizabeth felt something turn in her stomach, but she just smiled brightly. “Yeah,” she pretended not to pick up on the hidden meaning there. “Well, bye!”
“Good luck with that discussion,” Riley called out.
“Thanks,” she managed to shoot out before dashing through the door, already well on her way to see what disaster this next class could bring…
* * *
“College is an evil bitch goddess,” Elizabeth announced, finally flopping down onto her bed.
Tara gave her a sympathetic smile. “Discussion that bad?” she inquired.
“No, actually,” Elizabeth sighed, “the discussion went all right. It was the everything else that sucked.”
“Ooh,” Willow flinched, “got Steinberg’s quiz back, huh?”
Elizabeth groaned.
“W-Well, how bad could it be?” Tara asked hopefully.
“So bad that he politely suggested that I drop his class,” Elizabeth countered.
Willow and Tara double flinched in perfect unison. “Ouch and ouch,” Willow agreed.
“Maybe it’ll be better this way,” Tara suggested. “You won’t have to do all that work for Steinberg’s class…”
“Yeah,” Elizabeth retorted, “all I have to do is…” she picked up the course description for the visual arts class and began to read, “ ‘create a series or project in a combination of artistic techniques that exemplifies a greater understanding of reality and the human condition’.” She frowned at the paper. “What does that even mean?” she demanded.
Willow bit her lip. “Well, if that’s so bad, you could always wait until next year and try a music course…”
Elizabeth laughed at that. “My musical talents are even more pathetic than my artistic ones,” she insisted.
“Music history?” Tara suggested.
“I can barely remember as far back as The New Kids On The Block,” Elizabeth retorted and sighed. “Plus, my father would kill me if he found out I was only taking three courses…”
Tara batted one hand in the hair in an unconcerned manner. “Fathers are meant to be disobeyed. If I’d listened to my father, I’d be playing homemaker in some dumpy little town with some dumpy little husband, cleaning up after my father and brother’s lazy asses.”
Elizabeth looked at her askance.
“It’s true,” Willow agreed. “No matter how bad your family situation is, you can’t even come close to beating Tara’s…”
“Maybe…” Elizabeth sighed.
“Just meet with this visual arts professor, and see what you think,” Tara advised gently. “At least that’ll give you a better feel for what you want to do…”
“You know,” Elizabeth said thoughtfully, “that’s actually really good advice. Thanks.”
Tara blushed slightly and tried to indicate that it was nothing.
“That’s why they made me RA,” Willow said proudly. “I have no useful skills whatsoever, but that beautiful girlfriend of mine…she’s better than the entire advisory system put together.”
Tara flushed more, and Willow leaned in to give her a quick kiss. Elizabeth couldn’t help but smile. There was something about the two Wiccans that always made her feel better, no matter how down she was. It was nice to have two friends that were helpful and supportive no matter what she wanted to do. Now, if only everyone else could be the same way…
* * *
Elizabeth nervously knocked on the half-opened office door.
“Come in,” a woman’s voice sounded from behind the desk, turning around to look at the door. She was a kindly-looking woman in her late forties or early fifties, the first hints of gray just beginning to streak through her sandy blond hair.
“A-Are you Professor Devereux?” Elizabeth asked nervously.
“That’s me,” Professor Devereux agreed with a friendly smile, gesturing for Elizabeth to come in. “What can I do for you…?”
“Elizabeth,” Elizabeth shook her head apologetically. “Elizabeth Summers.”
“Ah,” Devereux nodded in recognition. “One of the students lucky enough to escape Walter before it was too late…”
Elizabeth’s brow furrowed slightly. “Walter?” she asked confusedly.
“Professor Steinberg,” Devereux clarified. “Please, Elizabeth, sit down.” She gestured to the vacant chair on the other side of her desk.
Elizabeth nervously did so. “How did you, er, know…?” she began anxiously.
Devereux rolled her eyes. “Walter does this every year,” she informed Elizabeth. “I make him give me the names in advance so I can save his students before they fall into a pit of despair.”
Elizabeth managed a wry laugh. “Yeah,” she agreed, “because that’s pretty much what I’m doing right now…”
“Don’t worry about it in the slightest,” Devereux assured her. “Unless you’ve got pretty extensive background in art history, Steinberg’s class can be a little…”
“Impossible?” Elizabeth suggested hesitantly.
Devereux laughed at that. “Exactly what I would say if I were allowed to,” she agreed with a little wink.
Elizabeth giggled slightly at that. She’d never met a teacher before that was this nice.
“So, Elizabeth,” Devereux said with an encouraging smile, “what do you think of visual arts?”
Elizabeth nervously fingered the strap of her backpack in her lap. “Kinda like it’s…”
“Impossible?” Devereux suggested.
Elizabeth shrugged slightly in agreement.
“Let me guess,” Devereux said with a wry smile, “you read the course description, right?” Elizabeth nodded, and Devereux shook her head in dismay. “I swear the people who write those try to make everything sound like a root canal. Just ignore it,” she assured Elizabeth, “kinda like a corporate mission statement.”
Elizabeth cracked a little smile at that. “So, what do you do in your class then?” she asked tentatively.
“Pretty much whatever you want,” Devereux informed her. “We’ve got an hour and a half on Mondays and Wednesdays scheduled for the studio. You come in, and you can do whatever you like. I’ve got projects already planned out that you can do if you want to, or if you’ve got your own ideas, you can use your studio time for that as well. Art is about doing what you like best. I’m just there to help the process along.”
“I’ve kind of, er, never really taken an art class before,” Elizabeth admitted ruefully.
“Not a problem,” Devereux insisted. “You can do the strange little exercises I’ve got until you get some of your own ideas. You don’t have to paint the Mona Lisa or anything.”
Elizabeth let out a relieved sigh. “Good,” she agreed, “because stick-figures are about as good as I can get…”
“Stick-figures can be art, too, depending how you use them,” Devereux said with a little smile, “no matter what stodgy old curmudgeons like Steinberg say.”
Elizabeth let out a genuine chortle of laughter at this. “I think I can handle that,” she agreed.
“Great,” Devereux said excitedly. “Do you want me to sign a registration form for you?”
“That’d be great,” Elizabeth agreed, shuffling through her papers and finding one.
“Now, you have missed four studio sessions already,” Devereux informed her. “That’s not enough to drop you grade down past a B+, but if you want to make those up, you’ll be back up into the A range with no penalty.”
“When can I do that?” Elizabeth asked.
Devereux shrugged. “Whenever you like. The building’s open from seven to five weekdays and during the afternoons on Saturdays. There’s a little sign-up sheet so you can write down your hours. Likewise, if you’d rather come in on your time instead of class… Well, it’s all pretty flexible. Just make sure you actually do the required number of hours.”
“Not a problem at all,” Elizabeth insisted. “I swear I’ll make it all up.”
“Ah, a responsible student,” Devereux said approvingly, signing the form for Elizabeth and handing it back to her. “Now, all we have to do is find the artist hidden within…”
“She’ll be pretty hard to find,” Elizabeth insisted.
“I don’t know,” Devereux said thoughtfully. “Something tells me you’re just waiting to shout out to the world just how unique you really are…”
* * *
By the time Elizabeth arrived at Tri Xi House for the final announcement of the rush, she was practically skipping. Who ever would’ve thought that a teacher would put in the effort to make a fun class? She was still a little wary about the whole having to draw thing, but she had a feeling Professor Devereux would let her ease into it, instead of Steinberg’s shoving-you-right-off-the-pier-into-freezing-cold-water technique.
She actually gave Riley an excited wave when she saw him and an enthusiastic little kiss.
“You seem cheerful,” he commented, slightly surprised. “What could possibly have erased the depression of Steinberg’s quiz?”
“No more Steinberg,” she replied brightly. “And a great new teacher.”
“Congrats,” Riley said with a fond smile. “Glad to see you’ve gotten past the Friday morning blues.”
“And I only need one more thing to make my day look brighter…”
Riley blushed slightly until he realized she’d turned her attentions to the makeshift stage that had been set up in Tri Xi’s backyard. “Oh yeah,” he remembered under his breath, “the rush…”
“Testing, testing,” Di tapped the microphone experimentally.
A loud screech blared from the speakers, and everyone grabbed hold of their ears in pain. Di gestured frantically to where Forrest and Graham were trying to fix the system, and they gave her apologetic looks. Finally, Forrest gave her the thumb’s up sign again.
“Testing?” Di said cautiously. No eardrum-shattering feedback sounded out, and she breathed a sigh of relief. “Welcome,” she announced in a bright voice, “to this year’s final Tri Xi rush!”
Several cheers and squeals echoed throughout the crowd.
“So,” Di said with a broad smile, “without further ado, here’s the new list!”
Elizabeth held her breath and listened as the names were called out…and frowned slightly when Di passed her name in alphabetical order. She shook her head slightly and waited until the end of the list… Still nothing.
“Now,” Di said with a conspiratorial little smile. “We’ve saved a few names for the very end, just because these three girls did an extra super job. So don’t freak out yet!”
Elizabeth breathed a little sigh of relief.
Di remained quiet for a moment in a dramatic little pause. “Welcome also, Sandra Howard, Kelly Anderson, and Jun Xiao!”
Applause broke through the audience, and the three girls in question squealed in excitement and relief, accepting all the hugs that their other fellow sisters bestowed upon them.
And Elizabeth stood stunned. She hadn’t made it in. She’d failed.
“Elizabeth?” Riley asked, concerned. “Elizabeth, are you OK?”
She managed to nod numbly, not even hearing his words as she slowly began to walk off, trying desperately to process this fact. She was dimly aware of the fact that the others that hadn’t made it in were wandering off in the same manner, but she couldn’t quite process that at the moment.
Because Buffy Summers, most popular girl at Sunnydale High, cheerleading captain, daughter of the famous and wealthy Hank Summers, hadn’t even managed to get into a stupid sorority…
* * *
“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry!” Tara exclaimed the instant she saw Elizabeth’s downcast face.
“Oh no,” Willow exclaimed, biting her lip. “What happened?”
“I didn’t make it,” Elizabeth said numbly, still not quite believing it herself. “I didn’t get in…”
Tara quickly got up to give her a quick hug. “Maybe next year,” she said encouragingly.
“Next year,” Elizabeth repeated in a voice that was halfway between a laugh and a sob.
“Hey now,” Willow sat her down on her bed and stroked her hair lightly, “it’ll be OK. You’ll see. You’re probably better off without those snooty bitches anyway.”
“Willow!” Tara chided, her eyes wide. “Elizabeth really wanted to get in. Don’t insult her friends!”
“No,” Elizabeth shook her head slightly, “they are snooty bitches,” she agreed with a wry smile. “Not even snooty bitches would let me in…” Somehow, that made her situation seem even more pathetic. Slowly, the first tears streamed down her cheeks.
“I didn’t mean it like that!” Willow clarified, obviously flustered. “I-I just meant that, I mean, they’re all shallow and, yeah, boring and…who would want to hang out with them anyway? I mean, you’re so much cooler and nicer and way, way smarter and…and…”
“Breathe,” Tara reminded her.
“Right,” Willow nodded, taking in several deep breaths and slowly overcoming her agitated hyperventilating.
Elizabeth cast her a rueful smile. “Thanks for trying to cheer me up anyway,” she sighed, lying back on her bed.
“Oh sweetie,” said Tara, sitting down on her bed as well. “M-Maybe…” she trailed off, looking down nervously at her fingers and picking at the nonexistent chip in her nonexistent nail polish.
“Yeah?” Elizabeth looked up at her curiously. Tara tended to always know exactly what to say to make everything better.
“M-Maybe it’s kind of a good thing you didn’t get in?” Tara suggested nervously. “I mean, m-maybe you didn’t really want to?” She ducked her head shyly, afraid that what she’d said would upset Elizabeth further.
“Whattaya mean?” Elizabeth asked curiously, still sniffing slightly.
“Well,” Tara shrugged, “it just seems like…well, you didn’t put your best effort into getting in. I mean, I’ve seen how hard you work for your classes, but this whole Tri Xi thing…every time you talked about it, it was like this terrible chore you had to do. L-Like you thought you had to get in, but you really weren’t into it that much… At least from my perspective,” she added hastily. “And, I mean, I don’t really know anything. I’m probably completely wrong…”
“No,” Elizabeth let out a weary sigh, “you’re not exactly wrong. It’s just…”
“Something you were supposed to do?” Willow asked tentatively. “Part and parcel of the whole college experience?”
“Yeah,” Elizabeth agreed. “My mom rushed, and my dad was in a frat, and then all their families, and…”
“So, who cares what they did?” Willow insisted. “You do what you want. And, hell, living in a dorm is part of the college experience, too.”
“That’s right,” Tara agreed. “You can hang out with us and made cookies and watch lame horror movies a-and watch Spike and Anya argue at the dinning table…”
Elizabeth couldn’t help but giggle slightly at Tara’s depiction of Westing House life.
“A-And you’re two blocks closer to campus this way,” Willow added, “so when it’s all cold in the winter, you won’t have to walk outside as far!”
“Yeah,” Elizabeth conceded with a little sniffle. “Only…” she trailed off and bit her lip.
“What is it?” Tara asked softly.
“Can we maybe make the cookies tonight?” she asked hopefully.
Willow and Tara both laughed. “You betcha,” Willow agreed. “I’ll go down and grab us some ingredients before the dinning hall shuts down,” she said enthusiastically.
Elizabeth’s hesitant little smile turned into a bright grin.
“Here,” Tara handed her a tissue to wipe away the last of her tears.
Elizabeth did so before cautiously looking at herself in the mirror. “Wow, my makeup kinda died, didn’t it?” she commented with a little grimace.
“Go fix it,” Tara advised. “You’ll feel ten times better.”
“You won’t go down without me?” Elizabeth said, a slight pleading tone in her voice.
“I’ll be here cleaning up Willow’s junk food mess,” Tara said, looking at Willow’s bed with a disapproving look.
“Thanks,” Elizabeth said with a little smile. “I’ll be right back…”
The feel of the cool water on her face wiping away all the mascara streaks really did make her feel ten times better. “Shoulda learned by now,” she chuckled to herself. “Tara knows everything…”
“She does at that,” Spike commented gruffly, practically slamming the bathroom door shut behind him as he entered.
Elizabeth turned to look at him in surprise and then found her mouth suddenly dry. He was stripped down to nothing but the little white towel around his waist once more. “Didn’t you already take a shower this morning?” she asked, trying desperately to focus on anything but the sight of his strong, bare chest.
He held up a little bottle for her inspection. “Bleach day,” he informed her before stalking over to one of the shower stalls. “An’ what’re you doin’ here?” he asked somewhat snidely. “Don’ you an’ Soldier Boy ‘ave big plans?”
“Not tonight,” Elizabeth bit her lower lip. She absolutely hated the fact that Spike was mad at her and Riley being together.
“Jus’ figured,” he retorted, “what with you missin’ practice an’ all…”
“Sorry about that,” Elizabeth apologized softly. “Rush ended today.”
“Well, congratulations,” he said coldly, “be sure to let the door hit you on your ass on the way out…an’ don’t expect me to ‘elp move all your crap.”
“Spike?” she began nervously, tapping him lightly on the shoulder, her fingers practically burning at the feel of sleek muscle beneath smooth skin.
He turned to look at her in surprise.
“I’m not moving out,” she informed him with a little smile. “I’m staying here this year.”
“Really?” he said in the worst attempt to conceal his happiness that she’d ever heard. “I mean, uh, tough break an’ all that…”
She couldn’t help but laugh slightly at that. “It’s OK,” she agreed. “I’m good with it,” she said confidently.
“That’s great,” he said softly, looking down at the floor. “Like havin’ you around, y’know?” he said in the shyest voice she’d heard from him yet.
Elizabeth noticed for the first time just how long and thick his eyelashes were. She had the sudden urge to just lean in and brush her lips against them… She shook her head, blocking the inappropriate thought from her mind.
“Yeah,” she agreed wistfully. “So,” she said matter-of-factly, breaking the strange little spell that had been over them, “are you having the extra practice this Wednesday? I really need to work out, but this week’s just been so hectic…”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “Can you make it at five?”
“At the dojo?” she nodded. “I’ll be there.” A sly smile spread across her face. “And I’ll mop the floor with your cute, white butt.”
“ ‘Cute’?” he repeated with a little eyebrow waggle. “Y’know,” he held up the bleach again, “’d be happy to touch up your roots for you if you’d like to join me…” He gestured over to the shower.
Elizabeth blushed slightly before she realized the implications of his statement. “I do not bleach my hair!” she insisted furiously.
“Sure you don’t, blondie,” he said with a conspiratorial wink. “Sure you won’t join me? It can be our li’l…secret…”
“God, could get any more full of yourself?” she asked rhetorically.
He chuckled. “’S probably not quite your color anyway,” he agreed with a cheeky little grin.
“And you’d better clean out the shower after you’re done with that stuff!” she felt the irresistible urge to keep chiding him.
“Always do, luv,” he agreed.
“Good,” she said primly, taking one last look at the smooth, marbled curves of his bare chest before she left the bathroom behind. A sly little smile slipped across her face as she reentered her room, and she took a deep breath to calm herself. Oh yeah, there were definite advantages to living here…