LULU RAISED HER head slightly and tried, as best she could, to ascertain the facts. This wasn’t an easy task: her head throbbed painfully with every heartbeat. But she was able to establish four things:
• She was entwined on a couch with some boy—man?—who was naked and hairy and passed out.
• Her clothes, including her underwear, were lying on the floor next to the couch. What appeared to be a dirty army jacket was the only thing covering her and the man-boy.
• She was in a living room of some sort and there were cups, empty pizza boxes, and other garbage strewn about the floor.
• The man-boy, whose face was inches from hers, had breath straight from the sulfuric depths of hell.
These were not altogether welcome facts. She forced herself to remember more. Oh, right, the fraternity. Beta something. The evening’s events came back to her in fragments, but only up to a certain point in the evening. After that, it was blank, a void. She tried to remember more, but the effort required was way too taxing. She wasn’t sure she wanted to, anyway.
The immediate priority was to extricate herself from the couch and the man-boy. This proved to be relatively easy, given his complete unconsciousness. She pulled his arm from around her waist and placed it carefully at his side. Since she was on the inside of the couch, she was forced to climb over the back to get off.
On her feet, Lulu was afforded a better look at her paramour. She recoiled in disgust, realizing she recognized him. This was not the direction her social life was supposed to be going. Ugh, can’t drink so much. Flashing back to the previous day, she remembered the events in Professor Russell’s office. He made me do this, she thought. She would never have drunk so much if he hadn’t humiliated her like that.
What a shitfest. Thank God she was leaving for break today. Maybe by the time she got back from break this would all just be a bad memory.
Lulu noticed that others were passed out on nearby couches and realized she’d best leave before one of these slope-headed frat boys spotted her. She scooped up her clothes as quickly as she could and threw them on. Moving quickly toward the exit, she caught a heel on a sound cable that had been run across the floor and went careening. As she fell, her cheek struck the corner of a low coffee table with considerable force.
“Fuck!” she cried, as a pulsating pain spread through her head. The noise stirred some previously inanimate shape sleeping nearby under the beer pong table. He lifted his head slightly and peered at Lulu.
“I’m fine,” said Lulu, trying to keep her voice low so as not to wake anyone else, especially the man-boy. “Go back to sleep.” The boy lowered his head and resumed sleeping, no doubt thankful that his attention was not required.
The frigid December air outside made the stinging pain in her cheek even worse. She tried touching it and flinched. It was swelling quickly, and one of her eyes was beginning to shut. She shuffled back to Duffy, hoping not to run into anyone along the way. Fortunately, it was an early Saturday after a big party night, so the few Devonites walking the streets weren’t ones she was likely to know.
In the lobby at Duffy, her luck ran out. There, putting up more goddamn posters, was the last person she wanted to see, her RA, Yolanda Perez.
Yolanda took one look at Lulu and gasped. “What happened to you?”
“It’s nothing.”
“The hell it is. You look like you stepped in front of a freight train.”
“Yes. Turns out it was a bad idea.”
Yolanda’s eyes narrowed. “Did someone do this to you?”
“No, no one did anything.”
“Something happened.”
“Really, Yolanda, I just want to get a couple hours’ sleep and then get out of here…”
“I smell alcohol, and your clothes are disheveled. What happened to you? Did you have sex with someone last night after drinking?” Yolanda’s eyes were now two slits.
“Is there any other way it happens?” Lulu giggled, despite herself, which only made the pain worse. Why wouldn’t this woman go away?
“You don’t understand. By university policy, a woman cannot give consent while under the influence. Sex under the influence is automatically assault.” Yolanda looked almost excited. As an RA, she’d had over thirty hours of mandatory training on sexual assault protocols, and she was sniffing the first opportunity to put her training to use.
“But not for the guy?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean if the guy has drunk sex, does he have to give consent?”
“No. It doesn’t work that way.”
“Well, that hardly seems sporting.”
“Didn’t you learn anything at orientation?”
“Yeah … I’m a little fuzzy on that.”
Yolanda grew frustrated. “You’re not hearing me. In all likelihood, you’ve been raped, and on top of that someone obviously struck you. I’m a mandatory reporter, and—
“A what?”
“Mandatory reporter, which means I’m obligated by the Devon Committee on Title IX Enforcement to report this.”
“Would you please relax? No one’s been raped.” Before Lulu could react, Yolanda whipped out her phone and snapped a picture. “Jesus, delete that!” Lulu shouted. She imagined how she must look, and God forbid anything found its way to social media. “It was a long night and I just fell, okay?”
“There was a party last night at that piggish frat, Beta, wasn’t there? Is that where you were?”
“No, and it’s none of your business.” Damn, this woman is annoying.
“I don’t believe you, Harris.”
Lulu turned and started walking quickly toward her room. Yolanda, undeterred, followed in her footsteps. Lulu got to her door and fumbled her keys, dropping them on the floor.
“Harris, you need help! What was his name?”
What Lulu really needed was for Yolanda Perez to disappear. Then Lulu needed to get the hell out of Devon for a couple of weeks. Sheldon was taking her to St. Barts, where she would lie in the sun and forget about everything that had happened. She picked up the keys and finally got the door open, entering quickly and shutting the door behind her.
Yolanda knocked repeatedly, and her voice grew loud and angry. “What was the prick’s name, Harris?”
Lulu turned.
“What the fuck happened to you?” asked Song.