He holds out a to-go thermos with the State Miner logo printed on it.
“It’s a little late for coffee.”
“It’s not coffee.” He smiles, and this one seems much nicer than the ones he wore downstairs. “I know the guys kind of put a spotlight on you by not letting you take the shots, and I also know how important it is to you to have a fair fight. They’re hammered already downstairs, so unless you want to cheat by being sober when you face off with your opponent, you might want to drink this.”
That doesn’t make any sense. “I thought you wanted Jimbo to lose?”
“Oh, I do.” At least he’s honest. “Like I said, I know how important this is to you. And any chance I get to undermine Jimbo, I’m gonna take. You’ve already got my vote. You’re the best candidate for the job.”
“Thank you.” It’s the first time anyone has told me that since the voting was announced at camp. “I don’t mean to seem ungrateful, but what’s in the drink?”
He glances down at the cup then up at me again. “It’s a mixed drink. Whiskey and cola. I know you don’t attend parties much, but the beer keg is as cheap as they can get it. Tastes like piss on a good day and warm piss by the end of the night or after sitting on the pong table for a while. The secret is to be buzzed enough before you play, so you won’t taste it.”
That sounds like solid advice. I’m not a big beer fan anyway. I prefer a cocktail on the rare occasions I drink. “It’s not a good idea to mix the two though, right? I always get the saying confused. Which way does it go?”
He barks out a short laugh. “Liquor before beer, in the clear. Beer before liquor, never sicker. I thought you didn’t party much? How do you even know about that?”
I take the offered thermos. “Just because I don’t go to ITK parties every week doesn’t mean I’ve never been to a party. And we go to State. Even if I holed up alone in the library and did nothing but study, I’d find out that info eventually.”
He laughs. “True enough. Well, see if you like this. If you don’t, I’ll make you something else. I might have been a little heavy-handed on the whiskey.”
I take a tentative sip, expecting the burn of the shot, but it’s much more pleasant. “This is a perfect mix, Jared. Thanks. Why aren’t you the bartender for ITK parties?”
“We have a rotating schedule,” he explains. “Until we get pledges in a few weeks, the brothers take turns manning the bar. Jimbo volunteered for tonight since he’s president, but I have bar duty next week for the kick-off toga party.”
I’ve heard about these infamous toga parties. “The themed parties are open to anyone on campus, right? Not just for bandies?”
“Yep. That’s how we raise funds. Cover charge on open party nights.”
Loud cheering floats up the stairs from the basement.
“That’s my cue to get back down there. You’d better drink up. It’ll be your turn soon.”
I raise my thermos. “Thanks again.”
“Don’t mention it.”
He heads downstairs, and I take a seat at the table where a group of saxophones are playing what looks like euchre. This is a perfect opportunity to get in some quality time with my bandies.
“Do you mind if I hang with you up here for a while? At least until it’s my turn at pong?”
Charlie, a sophomore, smiles. “This whole competition thing is so crazy. I’m so sorry you’re being put through this.”
“It’s okay. As long as it’s fun for everyone, we don’t mind doing it.” I take a few deep swigs of my drink. It really is good. I could get used to this.
“It’s not really fun for everyone,” a junior says, studying the cards. “I miss the rookie-initiation ritual. Now, that was fun.”
“I know,” I admit. “But we didn’t have enough notice to plan anything else. If you have any ideas, I’d love to hear them. Even though I’m graduating, we can still make next year better.”
And surprise, surprise, they have tons of ideas.
We get so deep into conversation about all sorts of improvement ideas, I startle when someone yells my name.
Shannon peers at me from the doorway to the basement. “Have you been here the whole time? Everyone’s looking for you downstairs. You’re up for pong!”
I rise from the table and realize my equilibrium is way off. I also realize my drink is empty. I’m definitely on even footing now. Not with the ground. With the other drum majors. Holy shit, I might be drunk. It takes a little more effort than usual for me to walk across the kitchen. “How long have I been up here, and who am I playing?”
“Jimbo.” Shannon smiles, but I really can’t tell if it’s out of pity or out of encouragement. “And you’ve been missing in action for over an hour. I was starting to get worried.”
I follow down to the basement, gripping the railing like I’ve never used stairs in my life. “Why didn’t you look for me upstairs?”
She glances over her shoulder as she makes a path through the bodies toward the pong table. “Honestly, I kind of thought you needed a little time-out to regroup after the dancing thing. Especially since you didn’t really get to have your revenge with the shots.”
Oh, I got some revenge all right. Thanks to Jared. But I’m not in the revenge business anymore. I’m letting it go. And honestly, I am feeling so relaxed and happy right now that I don’t even care if Jimbo beats me at beer pong. I will take it on the chin, shake his hand, and congratulate him on a game well played. And then I will talk openly with more of my bandies tomorrow at practice, and I will win head drum major the right way.
“Here she is!” Shannon deposits me at one end of the beer pong table.
Jimbo does not look nearly as happy to see me as he usually is when he’s about to win at something. “Where the fuck did you get that?”
I have no idea what he’s talking about. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“The drink, Soph. Where’d you get the drink?”
Oh, I’m still holding my special little cup. Maybe Jared can get me a refill. This was way better than cheap, warm beer.
Suddenly, someone pulls the thermos out of my hand. I look up. It’s Jimbo.
“Oh my God, you drank it all?”
Why wouldn’t I drink it all? “Why wouldn’t I drink it all, Jimmy? Jim, Jimbo, the Jimster. I’m not gonna call you James anymore. It’s mean. I only called you James because I knew you hated it. Would you answer to Jimmy? You were Jimmy when I first met you. I’m really not a fan of Jimbo, but if that’s what you prefer, then that’s what I’ll call you.”
“Jesus Christ. You’re wasted.” He slams the thermos down on the table and glances around the room. “How long ago did you give this to her, you motherfucking asshole?”
Jared’s laughing.
I like Jared. I wave at Jared. “Jared, can you make me more? It was really good.”
“How long?”
“Jimmy, there is no need to shout. We’re all friends here.” I pat his arm. His super-muscly, muscled arm.
“I put enough in that thermos for a guy your size!” Jimbo keeps shouting. He’s never been very good at listening. Especially to me. “If she ends up in the hospital tonight, so help me God, I will murder you. Now, how long ago did you give it to her?”