Priscilla Tonman VI

Accepted

It turns out Laura did not get in. I was actually a little (key word being little, of course) upset that I would not be able to see her shriek if she had been forced to do something along the lines of humiliating herself to prove her worthiness and loyalty to the eating club. Speaking of which, I did what every sane person would do and Googled some key words like Cottage, Eating Clubs, Initiation. Unfortunately, the Search Engine Optimization was not working in my favour today. There honestly was not much relevant information. Just a couple of high schoolers who were eager to know how to bicker, and how initiation would be like. You and me both, buddy.

I did stumble onto an interesting thread on College Confidential which began stereotyping every single Eating Club. The writer, obviously someone who was rejected from an eating club, was very bitter. It mentioned that The Ivy Club was very preppy, (hello, this was Princeton. Not Brown, for crying out loud.  What did they expect? Hippy?) Tiger Inn members drank like no tomorrow (Tommy did have an abnormally high tolerance for anything with vodka, whiskey and tequila) and that Cottage “compromised of Southern money”. There were some rather offensive comments about how Princeton lacked diversity in general, and that Cottage epitomized it.

Woah, I wasn’t even initiated yet, and I had to admit, that hurt a little. It really didn’t seem as bad as the descriptions at all, but I did worry. It couldn’t be all lies, but it couldn’t be all truth either, right? Sure, Princeton was never going to be as diverse  as it should be, but that didn’t mean we were rascist!

I was so deep in thought and absorbed in my futile research that once again, I nearly forgot about initiation. It was 10 minutes before we were supposed to be initiated, so I ran out the door. The cool breeze hit my face, and it felt so good. I broke into a very brisk walk, and a girl carrying a bagpack larger than her upper body almost got knocked over by my inconsiderate speed. I yelled an apology, and just full out ran to Cottage.

When I got there, I was breathing heavily, and I could hear my heart pumping at cardio speed, and blood was rushing in my ears. It was one of those feelings you always read about in books but never knew what the feeling was until you felt it yourself.  At the door was a girl with beautiful,  midnight black hair and almond shaped eyes. She smiled nervously and said to me, “Hi, are you here for uh... initiation?” I replied, breathlessly, “Yes! I uh, am Priscilla. Sorry, woo! I ran here.” My heart slowed down a little.

“hi!” she said brightly. “I’m Alana Chang. Are you a sophomore?”

“Yep. Are you?” I straightened my back.

“Yeah. Do you know what’s happening tonight? I am pretty psyched, but you’ve heard the stories...”

“Oh yea, definitely. I like, even did some research on the whole process. But nada. Zip. No stories or advice off the internet.” I answered sadly.

She nodded understandingly. She looked very demure and collected. “I tried to Google it too. Nothing useful. Ah well. C’est La Vie, eh?” she grinned at me.

I was beginning to like this girl. “My thoughts exactly. Do you...”

And just as I was half way about to ask if she thought drinking would be involved, as several blogs insinuated that drunkenness was a must for initiation processes, the door opened.

Eric smiled at both of us, and said in an exaggerated, British accent, “My ladies. Your night awaits you.” He pushed the door further back, and I heard Chris Brown’s Yeah 3x was playing in the background. I loved this song! Alana and I walked in and everyone smiled at us, while giving us the once over. Suddenly, I felt a cold, glass pressed into my hand. I looked up and saw a mature looking senior, wearing a plaid, long sleeved shirt, chuckling. He said warmly, “Welcome to initiation. There’s only one rule, my dear. That is, the number of drinks you will have to intake tonight will have to match your age.” He looked at me, “Do you think you can handle this?”

I looked down at the glass. It was filled with a fizzy champagne. My favourite type of classy drinks. I didn’t feel so scared anymore. 20 drinks was a lot, but I had all night. I looked up in his dark eyes and grinned. “Bring it on, sir.” I drank the entire glass. He whooped in delight and a few people came over to pat my back. "I'm Alex,  by the way. Treasurer. And I've got my eye on you." He reached over to a person next to him and got another glass for me.

Just then, Ke$ha’s song, Blow, came on. Appropriate, I thought, and happily accepted my second drink. Long Island. Long night.

Priscilla Tonman V

Morning Glory

The next morning was a surprisingly warm one. I put on my Armani Exchange J22 Vintage Striped Denim Leggings and my favorite sweater vest from L.L.Bean, and headed towards breakfast. On the way to the door, there was yet another envelope that had been slotted in. I picked it up, and the letter said, “The University Cottage Club is proud to offer you a place at the exclusive eating club. Should you accept this place, please return the enclosed card to the President of the University Cottage Club by midnight tonight. Without the card, your membership offer is void. Welcome to the food, the family and the future!”

I had to admit, I was ecstatic. I told myself this should not be that exciting, but it was. The prospect of being able to tell my family and friends I was accepted into the eating club was exciting. I was dying to know if Laura had gotten in, but I didn’t want to upset her more if she didn’t. I grabbed a cereal bar and decided to go straight to class. This morning was off to a good start.

After my third and final class of the day, I decided to find Eric and give him the acceptance card. I suppose this was part of the test, because if I had not met Eric, I wouldn’t have known who he was. In fact, I still didn’t know anything about him other than he was a junior. I decided to ask Tommy and ask him while I told him I got in to  Cottage. I called him, and after two rings, he picked up and chirped, “Bongiorno, my Priscila.” I laughed. “Hi Tommy, are you busy to talk?” I asked, knowing he was really busy all the time. “Never for you, dear one.” Tommy said flirtatiously. That player.

“Good, I wanted to let you know I got into Cottage, and I’m accepting.” I went straight to the point. He went silent, and I could almost feel him looking at the phone with incredulity.

“You are… accepting?” he asked, unsure he heard right.

“Yup. I mean, what have I got to lose? You know how I feel about our campus food, and I think it’d be fun!” I replied brightly. He didn’t need to be such a Debbie Downer, I had my own doubts, thank you very much.

“Oh. Well. congratulations, Pris,” he said quietly.

“Thanks Tommy. I was wondering if you knew Eric Williams? He’s the President of Cottage and he’s also a junior, so I thought I’d ask you, seeing as you know everyone,” I asked.

“Oh, I know Eric Williams,” Tommy said, sounding like he was gritting his teeth. “And no, I do not know where he is, nor do I care to know. Anyway, I can’t say this is unexpected. I gotta go. I have to work. Bye.” Tommy hung up on my abruptly. HELLO? I thought. That was just mean. I thought he’d be happy for me!

I rolled my eyes and pouted all the way to Cottage, where I thought I’d try. At least if Eric wasn’t there, someone who knew him would. I kept thinking of why Tommy was so angry. Was he mad that I wouldn’t be able to try for Tiger Inn now? Or was he mad because he hated Eric? Or maybe both?

I knocked on the door, and lo and behold, Eric opened the door. His face brightened when he saw me. Well, at least someone was happy to see me. “Priscilla! A sight for sore eyes,” he declared. “Please, come in!” He ushered me inside, and I saw a few Cottagers (was that even a term? I can't believe I am such a noob) seated around the room, reading or talking to each other.

“What can I do you for?” he smiled. He brought me to the kitchen, and I saw that the legends were true. The kitchen was huge, with all types of plates, pots and pans on the marble kitchen tops. It smelled lovely too. The refrigerator was enormous and state-of-the-art looking. It could store my whole month of food consumption in there, definitely.

“I have come to return the card,” I said, and pulled out the acceptance card. “Wonderful! I hope you have accepted?” he asked me simultaneously while pulling open the card. “Yes! You have! Oh, I am delighted, Priscilla,” he grabbed my hand and laughed merrily. His hair flopped adorably around his eyes. “Welcome to Cottage!” he enveloped me in a warm and gentle hug. I hugged him back, and noticed he had a fresh yet sexy, masculine cologne on. I am guessing it was Armani Mania. I loved it. I loved it almost as much as I loved Tommy’s Ralph Lauren Blue. I, of course, was the one who bought it for Tommy for Christmas.

“Tonight, we’ll begin initiation. This is going to be very, very fun,” he promised, with a hint of mischief in his eyes. He nudged me and said, “I hope you’re ready, my beautiful one. Because tonight, it will be no guts, no glory. No pain, no gain!” He laughed.

If it was called initiation, why did I feel like it was the end?

Priscilla Tonman IV

Behind Enemy Lines

Midnight came around faster than I thought. I showered and sent out some emails, and before I knew it, it was 11:45pm. I tied my half dried hair into a high ponytail, secured a flower headband I got from my favorite online vintage retailer, Modcloth, and headed out to the Firestone library. It always surprised me how many people were still out and about, carrying books, in the middle of the night. Ivy Leaguers always claim to work hard and play hard, and it’s true. Even the Princeton athletes will be seen carrying Advanced Mathematics or some obscure English text at this time of night, walking to and back to the library.

When I reached the library, it was deserted. Firestone Library wasn’t one of the open libraries at night, which is why I suppose Cottage chose it. I waited for about two minutes, and checked CNN on my iPhone. I hated being unproductive, and waiting was one of my pet peeves. I was deciding whether to leave or not when a thin, pale man with glasses and a business suit walked out through the door and said, “Proceed in to the room on your right.”

I entered the library and turned to my right. It was very dark, and there was only one light shining down on one seat in the entire room. As my eyes adjusted, I could see there were about ten people sitting in the back of the room. I couldn’t see their faces in this very dim light, but they could definitely see me. The light was positioned so that only I would be seen. This was an interrogation.

I sat in the uncomfortable plastic chair. The moment my skirt touched the chair, a voice came from the side of the room.

“Introduce yourself.” Straight to the point.

“My name is Priscilla Tonman. I am a sophomore , majoring in Biology. I grew up in Wichita, Kansas. Uhm… I have one sister.” I didn’t know what else to say. My voice was starting to quiver.

“You still have 40 seconds.” A shrill and cold voice whispered from my left.

“I, er, love writing, despite being a Biology major. I am a columnist at the Daily Princetonian, and if I wasn’t set on curing cancer, I’d become a journalist. My time is usually split between meetings for the Entrepreneurship Club and my part time job at the Admissions office. I love eating and reading about food blogs, which is why I guess I’m here.” I added some humor, hoping to ease the tension.

No laughter. You know that situation where the protagonist in the book says they want to “dig a hole in the ground and just hide there”? That feeling hit me like a wave.

“You think Cottage is merely about food?” someone around my right sneered.

“Of course not. I know Cottage is about family and true friendship. That’s, of course, the reason people join. I want a community to er, I mean, a community that I can rely on. No other university offers such a unique opportunity. I know that I can contribute to Cottage if…” I was cut off before I finished.

“And what is the difference between an eating club and a student club?” A low voice said deliberately.

“A student club offers the professional experience one wants from an interest club, be it to become a better writer, singer or athlete. An eating club is about building a professional network that is also your family; it makes you not just better at something, it makes you a better person.” I answered back, keeping my eyes focused on the area where the voice came from. I thought that was a pretty legit answer. I knew they would ask me that question. My elder sister, Patricia, went to Columbia, and she told me secrets on mastering interviews for social clubs, no matter how scary they seemed.

“Why Cottage?” A girl’s voice, who sounded a little like Aliana’s, asked quietly.

Honestly, my answer was what I told Tommy. I went to Cottage because of Laura. But hell no was I ever going to admit that to them. Ever. I took a breath and pretended I could see Aliana in the darkness.

“I tried to ask myself why not Cottage, and honestly, I couldn’t think of a reason why not. Everyone I met was funny, motivated and loyal. Traits I believe are the most important, and traits that I see in myself. I don’t think; I know I will be able to contribute to this organization, and also learn from all the history and wisdom Cottage has as a whole. Of course, I am also aware that this is an eating club. So really, I fell even more in love with Cottage after I tried your foie gras sushi,” I smiled a humble smile.

I could have sworn I head two or three people chuckle softly, and someone hushing them equally as softly.

“Thank you for your time, Ms. Tonman. You will know if you have been accepted.” A British, male voice rumbled quite near me.

“Thank you for your time!” I murmured and slipped out the door. It took all my concentration not to trip on my Forever21 Oxford heels. Thank God. My heart rate slowed a bit and started to return to the normal pace. I walked briskly back to my dorm and shook off my shoes. It was 12:35am. The interview must had been less than 20 minutes. Which meant I did terribly well, or just terrible. Definitely the latter. My sense of humor usually sounded ingratiating and lame when I got nervous, so I probably messed it up.

Oh well, I thought. Maybe next year I’ll try Tiger Inn. Or maybe I’ll just stick to student government. Less mysterious and definitely less stressful.

My first interrogation ever. And hopefully my last.

Priscilla Tonman III

A Few Good Men

I awoke abruptly to the sound of three, slow and deliberate knocks. This was one of those moments I was so happy I did not have a roommate. Being a sophomore has its perks, and privacy was a perk I was not willing to sacrifice for anything. I threw back my Tommy Hilfiger Hibiscus Hill Duvet unwillingly. It was pretty cold, and my heater – my stupid, busted heater – was not being effective at doing its job. I slipped into my Comfy Toes slippers and padded to the door. I looked like a mess probably, but this was what  you get when you knocked at 4:20am.

I opened the door cautiously, but no one was there. I looked down and saw a pristine, cream colored envelope on the floor with my name hand written on it. I opened the envelope, and my heart rate increased a little as I read the first line. It said, “It was a pleasure meeting you last night, Ms. Tonman. The University Cottage Club would like to invite you to take part in the bicker process tomorrow night at Cottage at 7pm. We look forward to seeing you again.” It was signed by Eric Williams Jr., President of Cottage. I wondered if he was the one who invited me to the bicker process. I mean, let’s face it, I didn’t meet anyone else at Cottage. Eric must have seen something he liked, which is weird, seeing as all he could seem to do was laugh at me.

Anyway, while this was exciting, I had an Anthropology quiz tomorrow with Professor Sheldon, so sleep was a must. As I returned to my bed however, my iPhone buzzed. Surprise, surprise, it was Laura. Did you get in?! she typed. Too tired to respond at the moment, I ignored her text and went back to bed.

                                                                             *****

The next morning classes went by slowly as usual. But there was a certain buzz in the air that signaled the beginning of the bicker process at Princeton’s exclusive and elusive eating clubs. Two sophomore girls in my Biology 210 class would not stop hollering about Cap and Gown club. “Did you see…” “I know… but…”

This was fan-freakin-tastic.

It turned out Laura did get into Cottage. It’s comforting to know that sucking up still has its advantages and is still effective. She seemed a little, no scratch that, very surprised to hear I’d gotten a bicker bid too. Her eyes widened when I told her, but as a world class sycophant, she was apt at hiding her true emotions. She told me she was delighted for both of us, and couldn’t wait till we went through the bicker together. Well, at least she was genuine about that part.

It was a curious topic for me too. Every club had its own bicker process. Cottage’s bicker process was not difficult as Ivy Club, I’ve heard, but it was close. As any of the selective eating clubs, only the ‘crème de la crème’ gained entry to the country’s best networks.

I met Tommy for dinner that night at Café Frist, our favorite place for a quick bite. As I lined up for my salad, he waited with me to get his sandwich. I noticed he looked a little distracted today, and looked like he had a lot on his mind.

“What’s up, dude? You look … off.” For lack of a better word, and as usual, my eloquence was non-existent. He looked up at me and paused, before replying, “Are you really serious about Cottage? It doesn’t seem your style.” My favorite thing about Tommy aside from his quirky, sarcastic sense of humor? His straightforwardness. No beating around the bush with this guy.

“My style?” I asked intriguingly, “What do you mean? You don’t  think I am good enough for them?” I wasn’t offended, just curious. Tommy and I were too close to be sensitive over stuff like this. “Au contraire, I think you are too good for them,” he said, simultaneously grabbing a bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich.

“What, really. I’m surprised they even invited me to the bicker process. I didn’t think I showed interest at all! Not the way Laura does,” I said, adjusting my H&M black military jacket.

“Laura Ritter is so enthusiastic that one day, everyone realizes its fake,” he grumbled. “I just can’t believe you didn’t try Tiger Inn! I told you you’d get in for sure. I’d make sure of that!”

I shook my head. “I know, and you know how that would annoy me, giving you such power over my social life,” I joked. “Besides, I’m not keen on eating clubs really, it’s just Laura who dragged me as her wing woman.”

“But if you get in, will you do it?” Tommy challenged. Not one to back down, I see.

“I don’t know, depends if I like the people, I guess.” I mean, really, who knows? So far, I’ve only met El Presidente. And that didn’t go too well. I changed the subject and began talking about my biology project, which got Tommy more excited. He was pre-med, so anything biological would get him going. I was glad we stopped talking about Cottage, because Tommy actually looked seriously irritated that I was even considering joining.

I left the Café and began walking to Cottage. I wondered what they had in stall for us tonight. There was a girl with strawberry blonde hair who I recognized in my Chinese history class standing at the door. She smiled at me and said, “Hi Priscilla, go on inside and you’ll find out what to do. Good luck!” She giggled. Ominous stuff.

The moment I walked in I knew this was going to be annoying. The room was rearranged –the rocking chair was moved all the way to the back of the room – and there were long tables all aligned next to each other. On the tables were about twenty giant, Tupperware bowls filled with jello and whipped cream. Definitely a bad sign.

I spotted Eric, who cleared his throat deliberately and declared, “Welcome back, participants. This is the first round of the bicker process.” He look at the twenty sophomores standing in front of him. I saw Laura smile nervously at me, and I saw her bite her lip. He continued, “Only the fastest and most elegant eaters will continue to the next round. Speed, but style too.” He smiled. “So everyone take a bowl of jello please.” We all lined up along the tables. “On your marks, get set, GO.”

I picked up the spoon next to the bowl and turned to my right. The Latina girl next to me was already ten percent done. I ate one bite, and it was not too bad, so I took another bite, more quickly. Sad thing is, competition has always been my strength and weakness, so I did my best to finish that jello as quickly as I could. There was cheering from the eating club members, and I thought I even heard my name being yelled by a guy. Eric, maybe? About a minute later, I heard an even louder cheer as an Asian boy on my far right finished. I scooped up my last three bites and swallowed it. By now I was sure whipped cream was all over my face. I wiped my face as gracefully as I could and put down my spoon. Another cheer went up. I finished fourth place. Not bad.

Alejandro, the Latino from the door last night, tapped my shoulder and grinned. “I’m impressed with you, chica. Classily done!” he said. I thanked him, and he dragged me over to a fierce looking girl with amazing black hair, and brilliant hazel eyes. “Aliana, you must meet Priscilla!” Aliana looked at me for three seconds without saying a word, then said, “Pleasure to meet you. Well done on the jello,” she drawled. She had a southern twang to her accent. Alabama maybe?

“Thanks. I grew up in a huge house, so it was eat or be left hungry. That’s how I made it to Princeton.” I joked. Aliana raised her beautifully arched eyebrows. I realized I said the wrong thing, when suddenly she laughed a curt, but genuine laugh. “Wow, okay, I’m impressed. A sense of hunger and a sense of humor. Exactly what we’re looking for.” Alejandro laughed too. He then dragged me around for another twenty minutes to meet other eating clubbers. They were all very impressive and confident of themselves, and most achieved that air of confidence without tripping over into arrogance, like Aliana. I didn’t see Eric at all though, which was weird. I also didn’t see Laura afterwards – she must have left early.

After about an hour of mingling, Alejandro finally let me go. My face was about to fall off from smiling so much, and from laughing to fill the awkward silences that were inevitable from talking to people you just met. When I returned to my room, I saw another pristine envelope, this time, it was slotted into my room. I opened it excitedly – oh well, this was a once in a lifetime opportunity, so might as well enjoy it – and it was another invitation, which simply said, “Firestone library entrance – Midnight.”

Ok – this was completely sketchy, but I guess it was part of the bicker process, and it also meant I made it through to the second round. I really hope this was not a pathetic imitation of Skull and Bones at Yale. I’ve seen the movies, and I’ve heard the tales.

Let’s just hope that life doesn't imitate art this time around.

Priscilla Tonman II

El Presidente

Mortified, I went over to an old rocking chair and sat down in the corner of the room. So much of staying classy, Priscilla. My mother would have been so proud.

I fidgeted with my tiramisu, having lost my appetite. Well, at least the officer was nowhere to be seen. He was probably mingling with his other eating clubbers. I got up to put my plate away, when I heard a soft voice behind me say, “So, the tiramisu was not that great, huh?” I turned around and the brunette was there, leaning against the wall behind me. He was wearing a baby blue, Ralph Lauren shirt with a matching navy blue sweater vest. His hair was softly flopping over his green eyes. If he was tanner, he could work at Abercrombie and Fitch. Ew. The surfer look was so not my thing. But I had to admit, his eyes were mysteriously green.

“Uhm, no, it was good. I just wasn’t that hungry anymore. After all, I had an early start to the food, as you mentioned so graciously in your eloquent speech.” I replied haughtily.

He gave a masculine cackle. “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have, but at least I didn’t look right at you! I was subtle enough,” he said.

“Yes, thank you for your subtlety. I knew chivalry was not dead at Princeton.” I mused.

“I’m Eric. Eric Williams Jr. I’m the President of Cottage.” As he said this he put out his hand.

I shook his –woah, firm grip– hand, and notice a silver Tag Heur watch. “Priscilla. Priscilla Tonman. I’m… just a prospective sophomore.”

“Welcome, Priscilla. So do you have any questions in mind? How have we impressed you so far?” Eric asked, with a hint of bemusement.

“It’s remarkable. Your cottage is lovely. Everyone seems to be very friendly, especially your friend over there at the door.” I remarked. I noticed from the corner of my eye that Laura had begin to only half listen to the red haired girl she was conversing with. She was trying to hear what Eric was saying to me. That eavesdropper.

“Oh! That’s Alejandro. He’s quite a charmer. All the boys in Cottage are,” he grinned. “You know, we could use someone like you. I hope you are serious about us.”

I looked at him, and mulled it over for about three seconds. “Someone like me? What do you mean?” I asked. “Someone without etiquette at parties?”

He laughed again, and Laura’s eyes widened. She was dying to know what I had said to make the President laugh so hard.

“Yes, that. And someone who is not afraid of challenging themselves or anyone else. Also, you seem loyal. Coming over here with your friend did not go unnoticed.” He turned to Laura and waved. She blushed and turned her full attention back to the red haired girl. Damn, I thought I was being subtle, I thought. I guess my eye rolls and sighs were obvious.

He continued, “Just think about it. I promise you I’m one of those people who the more you know, the more you’ll like.” He leaned in, and whispered in my ear, “Good night, Ms. Tonman.”

I stood there, as he walked away and began greeting other people. It wasn’t until Laura approached me that I realized he had taken my plate when he leaned in.

As we left Cottage, I was so preoccupied I was barely listening to what Laura was saying. Something about a second round and something about a cute German boy.

As I got ready for bed, my mind kept going back to Eric. I listened to Adele on my iPhone, but his laughter kept drifting back. His eyes were the last thing I remembered before I fell asleep.

Not a good sign. I should have known Manolos were not a good idea.

Priscilla Tonman I

The Cottage

I knew it would be a bad idea to wear my Manolo Blahniks to Cottage. It was raining lightly, but my suede pumps were discoloring as I stepped into my third puddle. I sighed.

My best friend Laura glanced at me suspiciously and squealed, “I hope you’re not backing out on me! You promised, Pris!”

“Of course not, I’m just confused why you chose Cottage over The Ivy Club.” I replied tiredly, for the umpteenth time. Laura, with her blonde and luscious locks, her Herve Leger dress-perfect body and cherry lips courtesy of Chanel rouge, should be confident with anything and everything. Unfortunately, the phrase looks can be deceiving has not been so true, ever. Her insecurity, though unexpected, was a hit amongst guys. I suppose the Damsel in Distress story will never get old.

She grabbed my hand, but as she did, her Coach Chelsea umbrella shook, splashing rain droplets onto my Burberry trench.  I resisted the urge to whimper. It was new too! “We are here!” she pointed to the brown bricked, well, cottage. How aptly named, I thought.

We could see people inside already, though it clearly was not a party. No loud music, only soft murmuring and the occasional forced laughter.

I took a breath as Laura knocked on the maroon door. A cute latino boy outfitted in Brooks Brothers from head to toe opened the door slowly and deliberately.

“Welcome to the University Cottage Club, the most exclusive eating club and organization in the northern hemisphere,” he drawled demurely. His gently rolled r’s were kind of cute. But hello, did he forgot about the Masons? Or Yale’s Skull and Bones? Most exclusive I think not.

Laura, barely able to constrain herself, let out a girl squeak and pushed past him. I smiled at him apologetically, and he winked back seductively. Oh, these Princeton eating clubbers. Or perhaps it was oh these Latinos.

There were about thirty people standing around the main living room, milling about, smiling too much. It was a typical bicker session. Princeton eating clubs’ bickering process was exactly like the rush process for a fraternity or sorority. Except unlike other schools, Princeton, as usual requires a huge intellect as well. Getting in was difficult, because impressing people as smart as you, or smarter, was nearly impossible. Which explained why Laura was so nervous. I was not nervous because I simply did not care. Personally, I preferred Tiger Inn, another selective eating club, because all the athletes were there. I liked athletes because I was always guaranteed a good laugh with them. My other friend Tommy, a junior majoring in Economics, was a Tiger Inn member.

The living room was nice enough. Not great, but cozy. There were some maroon Ikea couches, with cream colored pillow cases, embroidered with the famous UCC logo. While I was admiring the photography on the walls, Laura had already begun sweet talking one of the officers of the Eating club. I could literally see his eyes melt as she started batting her eye lashes. Which, by the way, is totally effective. I have definitely had it work twice, once when asking my ex-boyfriend to bring me to the movie theatre, and once when I forgot my homework. Mr. Johnston definitely could not bring himself to punish me while I was wearing my Ardell false eyelashes.

 

I wondered over to the refreshments table to get some exquisitely wrapped sushi. Next to the foie gras and scallop sushi was a plate of fish tacos, rolled into beautiful flowers, complete with garnishments of parsley. There appeared to be no normal food – I guess Cottage wanted to show off a bit – so I took a foie gras sushi and tiramisu with so many alternating chocolate layers it must have taken the poor chef a few hours to make.

Surprisingly, the foie gras sushi was delicious. Whoa, who knew liver could go with Japanese rice so well?

I swallowed my second piece when a tall, brunette officer walked to the front of the room and declared to us all, “Welcome, sophomores and juniors. On behalf of Cottage, welcome to an opportunity of fraternity, friendship and of course, the finest food. Ubi Amici Ibidem Sunt Opes. Where there are friends, there are riches. Get to know us, and get us to know you. We only want the best, as do you, which is why you’re here.” Gentle laughter from the crowd.

He continued smoothly. “So here’s to a night of getting to know new friends,” he smiled knowingly and scanned the crowd, and stopped at me.  “Get some food and mingle with those who have already started!” That’s when I realized why no one was trying the decadent food. I was the only one who was holding a plate. Thankfully, not many people seemed to notice me, but the officer certainly did. He raised his eyebrows at my tiramisu and caught my eyes. His bright green eyes crinkled as he laughed silently at me.

This was going to be a long night.