The shit really hit the fan when his dorm room was checked and his roommate claimed he hadn’t seen him since midday. At that point, more officers arrived, along with full rescue units. This time the line of questioning was different. The accusations were stronger. Words like hazing and legal ramifications were thrown into the mix. Steve and the other fraternity brothers remained stoically silent. Eventually, we were sent home, but were advised to not leave town and that we would be brought in for further questioning.
Melissa drove me home, and neither of us talked. We were both scared shitless.
Cameo and Derek were both waiting for me when I stumbled into the apartment. The events of the evening pulled at me. I wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball and forget tonight had even happened.
Cameo and Derek didn’t ask if we had found him. They didn’t need to. It was written on my face. Walking past them, I headed to the shower to wash the stench of the party from me. I felt responsible for this. I wanted to believe David was okay, that in the morning all of this would be something we’d laugh about.
• • •
By morning we knew. It was on every news channel.
David Pierce’s body had been found. Pierce—his last name was Pierce. Knowing that made it so much harder to hear. David Pierce was dead. Just ten hours ago he was an eager freshman ready to take on the whole world. Now he was dead.
Cameo and Derek went with me when I was called to the police station for more questioning. My phone was seized as evidence. I wasn’t surprised. I had documented the entire ridiculous stunt. That was my thing. I lived and breathed parties and watching these stupid antics. It was what defined me.
My dad showed up at the police station while I was being questioned. He was allowed to join me as my attorney, though he was really a tax lawyer. They assured him I wasn’t being charged with anything. The Sigma Pi fraternity would be the one shouldering the blame for what happened. Hazing was a serious crime.
I was allowed to leave by midmorning. The four of us headed to breakfast, although my stomach felt like it was loaded with bricks.
The mood during the meal was somber. Dad and my friends thought I was worried about being charged.
“I’m not worried about that,” I murmured.
“Then what is it?” Derek asked, dunking a piece of toast in the yellow egg yolk on his plate. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you this serious.”
I shrugged my shoulders. I wasn’t sure how to explain how I was feeling. Just because I liked to party and let loose didn’t mean I had a heart of stone.
“It’s going to be okay, pumpkin pie,” Dad said, patting my hand. Cameo and Derek exchanged a look over his term of endearment, but didn’t comment. Now wasn’t the time for jokes.
I nodded even though nothing felt okay. The hazing stunt wasn’t my fault, but did that automatically squash the guilt? To think otherwise was almost laughable. Hazing was done for entertainment. I’d always thrived on the ridiculous stunts. If my friends and I didn’t encourage them so much, would the fraternities feel the endless need to one-up one another?
The questions rolled through my head like a highway pileup. Unable to eat, I pushed my food around my plate. I almost wished Dad would yell at me. Anything to pull me out of my slump. But he didn’t. It wasn’t his way.
The days following David’s death were fraught with one consequence after another. I heard his parents were understandably livid and devastated. They demanded the school make an example of Sigma Pi. Steve and the other senior members were suspended while they were under investigation, but it seemed inevitable that they would be kicked out of school. Sigma Pi’s charter was revoked and the fraternity was dismantled and shut down. The other fraternities on campus also paid a price for Sigma Pi’s mistakes. Campus security scrutinized and checked over each house with a fine-tooth comb. It was as if all of fraternity row was on probation. I found it a bit hypocritical that many of the school’s administration, who were likely fraternity brothers and sorority sisters themselves, acted so shocked that hazing was happening on campus. Like it was something our generation invented.
David’s family decided to hold his memorial service the following Saturday so students would be able to pay their respects. The date loomed ahead of me, providing an eerie feeling of finality. In retrospect, I guess maybe David’s death felt surreal since my life had been relatively untouched by death. Both sets of my grandparents were still alive, along with my uncle on Dad’s side and two aunts on Mom’s side. My great-grandmother died when I was two years old, but that was the only death we’d had in our family. David’s death was like a punch in the gut. It hurt like a bitch and nothing seemed to ease the pain.
I chose to handle my emotional upheaval by hiding out the rest of the weekend following David’s death. Cameo and Derek didn’t even try to hide their confusion over my complete one-eighty in personality. I couldn’t really explain it to them since even I was confused. My entire existence up to this point felt wasted. The thought of partying or all the other shit I used to get off on made me want to hurl.
On Tuesday I was called to a meeting with the president of the university and found out I had not escaped the incident completely unscathed. Ironically, this almost made me happy. I felt this was a cosmic slap I deserved.
I knew before I arrived what the meeting would be about. My time at Maine State College had come to an end. Even if I wasn’t directly involved in the scandal, I was failing al
l my classes. I received my summons on Monday evening, but didn’t mention it to Cameo or Derek. They would know all the sordid details soon enough.
I decided to walk to the president’s office from my apartment building the next morning, even though it was on the far side of the campus. I wanted to stall. Walking gave me a chance to clear my head. The air was crisp and the clouds were heavy with the promise of our first real snowfall of the year. In the last few days while I’d been holed up in my apartment, fall had staked its full claim on Maine. All the trees were barren and stripped of their leaves. They seemed so lonely without their normal foliage to cover their limbs. I felt an odd sense of kinship with them, like my own leaves had been stripped away, leaving me bare and neglected.
I reached Alumni Hall sooner than I expected. Pushing open the door, I was greeted with an influx of fall smells. I inhaled deeply, feeling oddly comforted by the scent of pumpkin spice.
“Can I help you, my dear?” A short, plump woman with a raspy voice and salt-and-pepper hair sat behind the reception desk. She was the spitting image of my grandma, putting me instantly at ease.
“I have a nine A.M. meeting.” My voice didn’t waver, which was surprising. I had worked so hard to get into MSC, and now it was all coming to an end.
“Name?” She waited with her hands hovering over her keyboard.
“Tressa Oliver.”
“Let me tell President Johnson you’re here,” she said kindly as she picked up her phone. “Your nine A.M. is here. Yes, sir.” She hung up the phone and smiled. “You can go right in, dear,” she said, waving me toward the office.