The Nines

Author’s Note: As I was writing this book I was shocked to learn that there really are secret fraternities with rape rooms, unregulated fraternities in which gang rape is accepted, men who believe they’re above the law and universities around the country that still played a hand in perpetuating the crimes because admitting there’s a serious problem might damage the reputation of their schools. Even in 2015 there are still campuses where the pervasive attitude is that boys will be boys. Unless the girl dies there won’t be consequences, especially for the wealthiest kids or athletes. While students routinely get expelled for cheating, it’s much rarer to get expelled for sexual assault.

Here are a few of the most disturbing articles I found:

https://www.insidehighered.com/news/2013/06/11/student-activists-spur-sexual-assault-complaints-some-say-education-department

http://jezebel.com/the-story-behind-american-universitys-rapey-violent-se-1566309032

http://www.theatlantic.com/features/archive/2014/02/the-dark-power-of-fraternities/357580/

Here is a documentary about campus sexual assault:

http://www.thehuntinggroundfilm.com/

Prologue

Roxie

Screaming.

I’m awakened by loud, piercing screams. Still caught up in the fog of sleep it takes me a moment to realize that I’m the one who was screaming. My heart is thumping so loud and fast I feel like it’s going to beat right out of my chest. When I try to move I have to peel myself from the sweat-soaked sheets.

It happened again.

I’ve had the same reoccurring nightmare since my junior year of high school.

It always starts out on the first day of school...

I’ve saved my allowance all summer to buy a pair of pink Converse sneakers and I can’t find them anywhere. I even bought a pink t-shirt to go with the sneakers and I’m furious that I can’t locate them.

When my brother pokes his head in my bedroom I realize we’re going to be late. It’s never a good idea to be late on the first day back to school. It sets a precedent for the entire year.

Have you seen my sneakers? I ask as I open the door to my closet for what feels like the fiftieth time.

Still no pink sneakers.

Who wears pink shoes? His voice is dripping with condescension. 

As I emerge from my closet I catch sight of him rolling his eyes at me.

I’ve been waiting all summer to wear them, I bite back.

Since when do you follow the herd? 

Since when did you stop wanting to lead the herd? I glare at him.

My brother was always one of the most popular kids in our small high school. A straight A student, good-looking and well-liked. But something changed over the summer. He started hanging out with a different crowd. They stayed out late and got into trouble with the law. Despite my parents’ best efforts they can’t seem to control him anymore.

Get your shit together. My brother looks at his watch. I’ll be in the car waiting.

I grab my old white sneakers and put them on. Then I grab my book bag and hurry out to my brother’s car.

My parents bought him a used Ford Taurus when he got his driver’s license. The only caveat was that he had to drive me to school every day. When I hop into the passenger’s seat I’m a little surprised that he doesn’t immediately speed away. I’m usually just getting the door closed when he takes off. 

The engine is running, but he’s just staring at something in the distance.

We’re already late, I remind him. There’s not much chance we’ll make the first bell, but if we hit all of the lights right we might make it before the final bell rings.

He glances at his watch. Okay, we can go now.

With each passing year my brother and I seem to have less to talk about, but the ride to school is eerily silent. Even the air between us feels filled with tension.

We pass several empty buses going in the opposite direction. The drivers already dropped off the kids at school. I find it strange that my brother chooses to park in one of the empty spaces furthest away from the school. There are probably half a dozen spots near the front of the lot, much closer to the entrance.

Is parking way back here a hint that I need more exercise? I tease, but my brother doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t even crack a smile. He just stares out the front window.

The first explosion shakes the ground under our car and I’m confused about what’s going on. It takes me a moment to realize the school is on fire.

Three more explosions follow in rapid succession until all I can see is the blaze. The entire high school is engulfed in flames. There’s a sound so horrible I have to cover my ears. It’s almost like the screech of a crow, but amplified a hundredfold. It takes several seconds for my mind to catch up to my senses and I realize it’s the screams of my classmates burning to death. 

All I can do is stand by helplessly as the fire consumes them.

One

Roxie

Would you please turn that off? I yell to my roommate, Claire. The nightly news is blaring on her television while she hurriedly gets dressed for a date with her boyfriend.

The news is the last thing I want to hear.

Especially today.

Turn what off? she yells back from inside of her closet.

The TV.

I want to see if that psycho Back to School Bomber gets convicted.

I want to say that he’s not a psycho, but even I’m not sure anymore.

A photo of Timur Baiev aka the Back to School Bomber flashes on the screen as a reporter says, Tomorrow is the first day of deliberations in the long awaited trial of the Back to School Bomber, twenty-year-old Timur Baiev. The accused now stands trial for detonating a bomb which killed sixty-six students and teachers and injured eighty-four others. The Back to School Bombing is the deadliest school massacre in US history, killing more victims than Columbine and Sandy Hook combined. Born in the United States to Chechen refugees Baiev was...

I practically smash the buttons on the remote to get the story to shut off. 

The Back to School Bomber is kind of cute even if he is a terrorist. Claire hurries out of her closet carrying an armload of sweaters. They’re saying he’ll probably get the death penalty.

His trial just started. He hasn’t even been convicted yet.

Since when are you a lawyer?

I shake my head. Forget it.

I heard he was pretty normal. I mean before he bombed the school. He wasn’t some outcast or misfit. He was popular and got straight A’s.

Is there a reason you’re holding all of those sweaters? I ask, desperate to change the subject.

She holds a pink one in front of her ample chest. Should I wear this one? Then she holds up a baby blue sweater. Or this blue one?

Even though I shrug she doesn’t seem to notice. She never does. Claire doesn’t really want my opinion; she just wants to hear herself talk.

Definitely the pink, she announces without waiting for my reply. 

She does that a lot. It’s like she’s talking at me rather than to me. We’ve been roommates for almost two months and she’s only stopped to actually listen to me twice. Both times had something to do with me giving her money for improvements to our dorm room.

Not that I truly mind. The less we actually interact with each other on any kind of intimate level the less likely she’ll ever find out the truth about me and my past. I changed my name and moved away to college to start a new life. No one here knows my true identity. If I’m lucky no one will ever find out.

Just as Claire starts putting on mascara there’s a knock on our door.

Would you get that? Claire pleads with the mascara stick in her hand.

Sure.

When I open the door Claire’s boyfriend, Julio, and another guy, whom I’ve never met, stroll into our dorm room. Julio is a muscular guy. Even though he’s clean cut and attractive there’s something a tad bit intimidating about him. He’s got an edge to him that most of the other guys at our elite university don’t. Most of the kids who attend the school are from extremely wealthy families or are smart enough to have earned a scholarship. Very few are both.

Claire and I are scholarship kids and I suspect that Julio and his friend are too by the way they’re dressed. They’re not wearing the expensive designer labels that the wealthy kids like to show off.

Julio’s friend is a bit taller, but just as attractive, and just as intimidating as Julio. He gives me a big smile and starts speaking to me in Spanish. Julio shakes his head and says something to his friend. I have no idea what either of them is saying. I don’t know one word of Spanish, but I went through a similar exchange the first time I met Julio and he started speaking to me in Spanish.

Sorry, Julio’s friend says. I thought you were Puerto Rican.

I’m not, I reply, but I don’t elaborate. There’s no way in hell I’m ever going to tell anyone that my parents are from Chechnya. Thanks to the Boston Marathon Bombing and the Back to School Bombing, when most people hear Chechen, they immediately think Muslim terrorist.

I’m neither. 

I was born and raised in Massachusetts, as American as baseball and apple pie. My parents weren’t religious and I’ve always considered myself an atheist.

Julio’s friend eyes me like a hungry lion. I’m Hector.

Roxie, I reply curtly.

Short for? Hector raises an eyebrow.

Just Roxie.

We’re going to get pizza if you’d like to join us, Hector suggests.

I’m not really hungry. I hope my stomach doesn’t growl because I’m actually starving. I’m just not keen on going out, especially on what might be perceived as a date.

You could come along and get a soda or something. Obviously Hector doesn’t give up very easily.

She doesn’t go out, Claire explains when she finally pulls herself away from the mirror. She’s a beautiful blonde with the proportions of a real live Barbie doll. Both Julio and Hector’s attention is immediately pulled in her direction. With my long dark hair and big brown eyes I’m generally not the center of male attention the way Claire is.

Finally Hector turns back in my direction. Aww. Come on, he prods. You can’t have that much homework on a Friday night.

He’s right. I’ve already finished all of my assignments for the week. I’ll probably just hang around in the psychology student cyber café waiting for other lonely students with nothing better to do on a Friday night than have a virtual discussion on the theories of Carl Jung.

Hector is an attractive guy. And I haven’t been out on a date since...I can’t even remember the last time I was on a date. Definitely not since my junior year of high school when everything changed. 

You’re a freshman in college, Claire reminds me. You’re supposed to be having fun.

Okay, I finally agree. But I don’t want to stay out too late.

Hector gives me a sexy little grin. I’ll have you home by eleven. I promise.

The dorm is full of activity as we make our way outside. Most of the students are all dressed up and probably headed for one of the many parties being held off-campus. I’ve heard gossip about how wild some of the parties can get, but I’ve yet to experience it firsthand.

As we head toward the off-campus marketplace I notice a long line of girls, all dressed to the nines in sexy, short skirts and super high heels. They’re standing alongside one of the parking garages.

What are they doing? I ask as we pass by them on the other side of the street.

Don’t ask, Hector says in a rather ominous tone.

I watch as a brand new BMW pulls up to the girls. The passenger window rolls down and an arm pops out. He points to a few of the girls. The selected few giggle as they crowd into the backseat of the car. They have just enough time to close the door before the car screeches away.

That was strange, I comment. Are they students?

Hector shakes his head. Don’t worry about it. Then he quickly changes the subject. Have you been to Romano’s? Best pizza I’ve ever had. And I’m from New York. So that says a lot.

I’m not quite ready to change the subject; my curiosity has gotten the best of me. I watch as a Mercedes pulls up to the line of girls and the same routine is repeated. The passenger window opens and an arm reaches out. A few girls are selected from the group and they scramble into the backseat before the car pulls away.

Tell me what’s going on over there.

I flinch when Hector touches my shoulders, but it doesn’t seem to deter him in the slightest. He moves in close and whispers in my ear. You sure ask a lot of questions.

I’m inquisitive by nature.

Is that a nice way of saying nosy?

Curiosity is a sign of intelligence.

Snooping around where your nose doesn’t belong can get you hurt.

I want to laugh and tell him he has no idea what it means to be hurt, but I refrain. Instead I turn around and look into his big, dark eyes. How can I possibly get hurt with a strong guy like you to protect me?

He gulps. I won’t always be there to protect you.

I raise an eyebrow. No?

Not unless you want me to be. The air between us heats just a bit at his suggestion.

I realize I’m flirting shamelessly in order to get what I want and I should feel bad about it, but I don’t. When I became a social outcast and the school pariah in my junior year of high school I had to develop a thick skin just to survive. I guess I still haven’t shed it. 

Fine, Hector says. Those girls are students. Most likely freshman just like you. But whatever you do, don’t ever get into that line. Okay?

Hector’s tone is so serious and his gaze is so intense it scares me a little bit.

It’s difficult for me to agree to something when I don’t even know what’s happening, I fire back.

Hector heaves a slow sigh as if he has resigned himself to explaining what he obviously doesn’t want to tell me.

When Julio and Claire stop next to us I notice that Julio has his arm around Claire and she’s nestled against his chest. Even though they’ve only been dating a few months, they’re practically inseparable.

I have to admit I feel a twinge of jealously, but it’s short-lived. I remind myself that getting close to a guy means revealing my past, and that’s not something I’m willing to do.

Julio points to a sleek Porsche that’s now pulled up to the line of girls. Those guys in the expensive cars are all members of secret fraternities, he explains. The girls know if they line up there the frat guys will pick them up and take them to their frat houses for the closed parties. Supposedly those guys only pick up the hottest girls for their parties, so it’s kind of like a badge of honor to be selected. That’s why the girls all wait there dressed like that.

Secret fraternities? I shake my head. I had no idea.

Julio laughs. Hence being called secret. 

How would you know? Claire adds. It’s not like you ever go out. When you’re not studying all you do is internet chat with those nerds.