Reborn by S. L. Stacy Page B

in the residential part. The houses here are mostly red brick with
neglected yards and weathered fences. Greenview isn't one of the most
prosperous neighborhoods around Shadesburg—or one of the safest. We walk for
about three blocks to get back to The End.
    “My
feet hurt already!” Tanya whines. Ahead of us, a twenty-something guy with a
green Mohawk and a gold septum ring holds open the door to The End for his
friends.
    “Maybe
you shouldn’t have worn six-inch heels,” Carly tells her and points to her own
pair of red crushed velvet flats. Her shoes seem to be the same ones printed
underneath the iridescent letters of “Let’s Dance!” on her white tank top. Next
to her, Tanya oozes sex appeal in a pair of wedge heels—which are high,
but not actually six inches—gold spandex leggings, and a white lace halter top
plunging dangerously close to a wardrobe malfunction. My sisters and I cluster
together like three bright tropical fish stumbling into a sea of washed out
denim, leather, black ink and gold body piercings. In her flannel shirt and
jeans, Anna blends in much better, marching around us and accepting the door
from the bull-ring guy. Before going inside, I scan the poster plastered to the
front of it. There's a picture of a white skull amidst black flames at the
bottom, and there are inky tendrils coming off the bold, black letters of the
announcement:
     
    The End is Nigh!
    Music-alypse at The End!
    featuring Black Orchid and Search and Destroy

    Inside,
the bar is bustling, but not so crowded there’s no breathing room. The lighting
is dim, and the air is hazy with cigarette smoke. Booths and round wooden
tables stand between us and the bar. At the far end space has been cleared for
a microphone and sound equipment. There’s a guy setting up and tuning his
electric guitar. Anna claims one of the tables closest to the performance area.
I hurry to catch up with her while Tanya and Carly stop to get drinks at the
bar.
    “Sorry
if that was awkward,” I say, sitting down beside her. Anna shakes her head.
    “No,
I’m sorry,” she insists. “I shouldn’t have said that about sororities. You have
special rituals and bonding and stuff.” Her upper lip twitches in uncertainty
and perhaps a little disgust. “I just don’t get it because I don’t make friends
with other girls that easily.”
    “I
know how they can come off, but Tanya and Carly are really nice once you get to
know them,” I tell her, then let it go with a smile as they join us, vibrant
cocktails in hand.
    “I
think I will get something,” I say, standing. “Do you want anything?”
    “No,
thanks,” Anna says, so I go up to the bar alone and ask the bartender for a
tonic water and lime with ice.
    “Are
you ready for the end of the world?” asks a familiar voice behind me as I'm
watching the bartender prepare my simple order. I turn to see Jasper standing
there, smirking. Again, he's wearing dress pants and a white collared shirt
with no tie. I imagine his closet bursting with dozens of pairs of the same
stylish black slacks and crisp white shirts. The thought makes me laugh.
    His
brow furrows. “It wasn’t that funny.”
    I
shake my head. “It’s nothing. Shouldn't you be drinking a martini or
something?”
    “Excuse
me?”
    “The
beer. It doesn’t go with your…look.” I wave my hand in a circle over his
ensemble as I say it. My heart thuds in my chest, but there’s a playful grin on
my lips. “And your look—it doesn’t go with this club.”
    “Neither
does yours, Ms. Gamma Lambda Phi.” Jasper’s chuckle is uncertain.
    The
bartender hands me my drink, and I hand him some cash, tip included. I turn
back to Jasper. “Because charming, mysterious doctoral student fits right in.”
    This
time he lets out a bark of laughter. He holds up his beer. “Cheers.”
    I
give in and clink my glass against his bottle.
    “You
weren't in class today,” I say after taking a sip of my tonic water. I
instantly regret it. Why