THE HATCHLINGS OF FALL ’08: A TALE OF TWO UNIVERSITIES
Chapter Five
by Stewart Berg
The Hatchings of Fall ’08 is the story of two Tacoma-area institutions of higher learning and a group of friends who find themselves at the center of the two schools’ traditional rivalry
Chapter Five: A Capping Morning
I’m playing cards real close to my chest
-Russian Futurists: “Precious Metals”
So you can’t see what I’ve got
One minute, we’re subzero
Another second lost with every fallen grain
Roughly ninety minutes into the following morning—in the wee hours, that is, of September 14, 2008—the party at Corey’s had ended enough that the house’s core, along with a few other remnants of the festivity, decided upon a capping trek to Real Eve’s. There were nine, in total, who had said or at least signalized that they would make this short walk, and any surprise at either the number or the activity can be explained by the dual reminders that it was, as far as perception, still a Saturday night within the confines of a college campus and that the coffeeshop in question never closed. Cordelia herself had first vocalized the idea just after 1:00, and it had been resoundingly discussed and decided upon soon after; however, once made, the decision to leave slightly stoked the embers of the party itself in the form of a number of finals for the evening. By 1:29, therefore, those who were to leave were still standing about the kitchen’s island while readying another round of shots.
In step with all Tacoma’s clocks ticking to 1:30, the front door of Corey’s opened, and the front porch, which had been cut off from the rest of the house since the party had fully moved inside, once again filled with the full sounds of revelry. Though an enclosed space, the porch’s own front door had been left propped open all night, and the area was thus as cold as outside. The two students who emerged from the house quickly shut the door behind them, and the first, Aaron, was in the process of pulling on a large coat while the second, Jackson, was himself wearing only a sweater over his t-shirt. Once the front door was closed, the porch returned to its quieter state, though one could, particularly if near a window or the door, still faintly hear the loudest of notes from the song “Precious Metals,” which was currently having its turn on the speaker.
“They’ll all still be a while,” Aaron said, dropping himself upon the sofa nearest the front door, and he pulled closed his jacket after doing so. “We should have just stayed waiting inside.”
“Then we’d never leave,” Jackson replied. “We’re at least putting pressure on them out here. Besides, you don’t even like coffee.”
“Now that we’re going, I want to go, though. I knew we’d just end up waiting around whenever Jaz told us to hurry. Didn’t I say it? Not only could Jam and I have finished our game, but the two of us could be playing our next one right now, and we could probably even finish it, I bet.”
Jackson made no reply to this complaint, which his friend interpreted as agreement. Each turned his attention out to the street, and their lack of words was filled by the sight of a small group of students passing along the sidewalk from right to left. Three of the students, Jackson recognized from various classes across his college career, and Aaron recognized two; in turn, those students looked to Corey’s, saw those whom they faintly knew, then passed on.
“I’m done taking any more shots with Jam tonight, anyway,” Aaron continued.
“He started early today,” Jackson agreed.
“He was drunk as soon as I saw him. I won back over a dollar from him tonight.”
“He was already drunk before we left the dorms.”
“What time was that?”
“Noon, probably.”
Neither friend continued the conversation. Both, each differently drunk, internally remembered the motto that they had heard and adopted at some point during their freshman years; namely, that it is not possible for an individual to be an alcoholic while still in college. Unbeknownst to the pair on the porch, James happened to be, at that moment, in the middle of reciting a short, bawdy ballad before he and two other students about the kitchen island took whiskey shots.
“Were you listening to Will earlier?” Aaron asked; as he spoke, he sat up on the couch in order to take a drink from the fullest of the few highball glasses that had been left out whenever the party moved inside.
“Listening to what?” Jackson asked.
“He was talking about the Hatchet.”
Voicing no reply, Jackson turned to his friend with a look indicative of either annoyance or imploration, the difference contingent upon the seriousness of the other’s speech.
“No, I haven’t forgotten about it,” Aaron continued, smiling, “and no, I’m not being serious. I’m just saying I heard Will talking about it, and Jaz said she was the only one who knew. So, either she’s telling people about it herself, which she isn’t, or she’s not the only one in the President’s Office who knows the University got it back.”
“What did Will say?” Jackson asked.
“He was joking about stealing it.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I told you guys it wouldn’t just be us who thought about it. The whole tradition of the thing is about one class stealing it from another, so I said we wouldn’t be the only ones, but you guys acted like I was guilty for just talking about it.”
“Just Jaz did.”
“Well, Will knew something about it that she doesn’t, too.”
After his words, Aaron took a second, long drink from the glass. The concoction in question was a gin and tonic that had been made strong, and he lowered it from his lips with a smiling grimace.
“Which is?” Jackson asked.
“He knows what they’re going to do with it,” Aaron answered. “Maybe Jaz does, too, and just doesn’t want to tell us, but Will said they’re going to have the President reveal it at the Homecoming game. He said it’s already been decided, and the whole thing is planned.”
“So, in two weeks?”
“Yeah. They’re going to keep it a secret until then, I guess. Will’s the first I’ve heard talking about it, though, other than Jaz.”
“It’s really going to ruin the mood when they have the President unveil it, and then we get killed by whomever we’re playing.”
“I know. It’s Homecoming, though, so I guess they have to do it then. It was during halftime when they did that big stunt with the fake Hatchet two years ago. I’m glad we weren’t there for that.”
Jackson shrugged in reply. He had, like Aaron, begun on one of the not-empty glasses that had been left out on the porch, and he now took from it a long drink.
At that moment, the house’s front door was opened, letting out a gust of loud noise from inside, then quickly closed, and Aaron and Jackson each glanced sideways to see Jacob Wylie standing just beyond the door’s threshold. A UPS junior, Jacob was better known to the friends as Valerie’s boyfriend of between seven and eleven months, depending on one’s definition of a relationship’s beginning, but they could not be said to know him well. He was himself a renter in a nearby house, and it had turned out that Valerie far more often joined his group of friends than he did hers.
Not noticing the seated pair, Jacob appeared upset with himself for having so roughly closed the door. Then, he began rummaging in his jacket pocket.
“Hey, Jake” Jackson said; though spoken casually, the words had the effect of startling their target, which slightly confused both Aaron and Jackson.
“Oh, hey, guys,” Jacob replied, nodding in turn to the pair. “I was just wanting a smoke. I’ll go out front.”
“How close is everyone to leaving?” Aaron asked. “Could you tell?”
“What’s that?”
“How close are we to going to Eve’s?”
By now, Jacob had walked from the front door of the house to that of the porch, but he turned back to address Aaron’s question. Several moments passed, however, before he seemed to understand its meaning.
“They’re about ready, I think,” he eventually said. “Everyone’s just taking a last shot.”
Aaron quipped that such was the same thing that everyone had been doing for the last fifteen minutes, but the joke, despite its quickness, was heard by Jackson alone. Jacob, having rapidly passed down the porch steps, was already standing in the driveway, and the pair on the porch soon saw the little flame of his lighter.
“I think what we should do,” Aaron said, returning to the pair’s prior topic, “is hang out around the Homecoming game. Just hang out, that’s all, and we’ll see what happens. I want to, at least. If they don’t think anyone knows what’s going on, they may not guard it, and then, who knows?”
“I’m not going to the Homecoming game,” Jackson replied. “It’s tradition, remember?”
“I’m not talking about actually going. Obviously, I know we can’t jeopardize our streak of missing Homecoming during our senior years. I’m just saying that if we hang around the stadium then we may get a chance to see something, and then, anything could happen. They may still think no one knows about it. All we have to do is hang out outside.”
Certain that any statement would be transfigured into encouragement, Jackson said nothing, and he looked out at the street, giving his friend no more than a slight smile and a shake of the head.
“That’s weird,” he suddenly said.
“What is?” Aaron asked.
“Jake’s gone. He’s not in the driveway, at least.”
Aaron quickly scanned everywhere he could see.
“That is weird,” he confirmed. “He must’ve walked back. His place is on the other side of campus, right?”
“I think so,” Jackson replied; as he spoke, he shrugged and lost interest in the mystery. “I don’t get why he’s always been so weird.”
“I wonder if he said anything to anyone else.”
“Who cares? I’m sure he told Val.”
At that moment, the house’s front door was opened, and he who had earlier in the night made B-52s with Jasmine appeared in the threshold. To the seated pair, this new individual was simply he whom they did not know, though they had, of course, seen him a few times over the course of the night, and they would not, of course, have been disinterested in his very recent history, if aware. The spooned student likewise realized that he knew neither of those whom he had joined, but he made bold to guess.
“Come out to escape the drama, too?” he asked, smiling wryly to each of the seated.
“Close the door before Corey yells at you,” Jackson replied.
The spooned student quickly stepped forward then closed the door behind him, and unlike Jacob before him, he did so softly. As the door swung shut, Aaron realized that its closure was not stopping the escape of any music.
“What drama?” he asked, addressing the spooned student; in reply, the latter shrugged, suddenly looking uncertain at committing himself.
“Do you know Corey?” Jackson interjected, and in his voice was a hint of slight suspicion, but his posture and drunkenness fully covered it.
“I just met her tonight,” the spooned student answered. “My buddy was invited, and we were out on Sixth then came over.”
“Is your friend Henry?”
“Yeah. I’m Cole.”
“I’m Jax. That’s Aire. My sister lives upstairs.”
“Is she Val?”
“Wait,” Aaron interrupted; in the exchange of names, he had forgotten his curiosity, but there was enough bubbling in the matter for it to bounce back. “What’s the drama?”
Cole, before answering Aaron’s question, looked carefully at Jackson. Then, he addressed his own question to that latter individual.
“Is your sister Val?” he asked.
“No,” Jackson answered; as he spoke, his mind made nightmares, but Cole seemed relieved by the negation.
“That’s good, I guess. Not good, obviously, but not as bad, at least.”
This vague assurance from Cole only heightened the seated pair’s confusion, and the whole course of things caused Aaron to stand to his feet.
“What’s the drama?” he asked, repeating his question.
“Val’s boyfriend broke up with her,” Cole answered bluntly, “or she broke up with him. I don’t know either of them.”
“How sure are you?”
“I’m pretty sure it was him breaking up with her.”
“I mean just that it happened.”
“I’m sure. Everyone around saw it. She went upstairs just now, and he left, I guess.”
“Yeah,” Jackson interjected, himself now taking to his feet, “we saw him.”
The three students, each now standing, gave one another sympathetic smiles, and Cole included a shake of his head.
“Sorry, guys,” Cole offered. “A night-ender, for sure.”
“None of us really liked him, anyway,” Aaron shrugged.
After this dismissal of the gone, Aaron turned to Jackson, though he set down the nearly empty glass in his hand before doing so.
“Should we head to my place?” he asked.
“What about Val?” Jackson asked in reply.
After taking a moment to consider every angle of the situation, Aaron shrugged while starting for the porch steps.
“Jaz and Corey can take care of it,” he added. “Becky’s here, too. All we’ll end up doing is just sitting around until they decide to come downstairs.”
“I guess,” Jackson agreed.
“I’m sure I won’t be far behind you guys,” Cole interjected from back by the house’s front door. “We’re just waiting for Henry, I think. It’s late, anyway.”
Conversationally, Cole’s comment created a void that called for handshakes; accordingly, the three students met in the middle of the porch to begin that goodbye ritual.
“I’m sure we’ll see you again,” Jackson said, echoing a sentiment from Aaron.
“For sure,” Cole replied; as he spoke, he turned back to the house’s front door, and the other two students started down the porch steps. “I’ll be back over with Henry sometime, I’m sure. It was a great party.”
As his hand reached for the handle of the front door, Cole suddenly had that knob pulled from him, and it was Cordelia who soon stood just before him in the open doorway. After no more than a quick glance about the porch, she turned back around.
“He’s out here!” she called into the house, and then, she closed the door with a slam, leaving the three on the porch again alone.
“Who was she talking about?” Jackson asked after a moment.
Aaron took a moment to consider the question, and each of the three on the porch focused on the door. Thus, when footsteps again approached from that other side, none outside were this time surprised.
“Not at all,” Henry said; as he spoke, he pulled opened the front door for his girlfriend, and Cordelia and he were soon visible to those outside. “I had a great time. We all did.”
Following Henry, the rest of the party’s Pacific Lutheran contingent was soon out on the front porch; including Cole and Henry, their total proved to be five. To send off their invited rivals, most of the Puget Sound students who remained, minus the breaker-upee upstairs, were making their way outside, as well.
“I really had a great time,” Henry continued, taking up Cordelia’s hand.
“It was great that you came,” she replied.
With a few further light declarations, the couple stepped down the porch stairs and out upon the house’s driveway. Two wings of collegiate Tacoma, one from here and the other from across town, followed the couple, though those not leaving, citing the cold, walked no farther than the driveway’s start. As the groups began to break apart, Aaron noticed that Jasmine was disappearing along with the Pacific Lutheran group, and as soon as Cordelia was free of a departing friend, he questioned her on the matter.
“She’s still saying bye to Henry’s friend, I guess,” she answered.
“Cole?” Aaron asked in reply.
In her walk back up the driveway, Cordelia perceptibly stopped at the PLU student’s naming, but she continued without addressing the question.
“Come on,” she eventually said, addressing both Aaron and Jackson. “Jam was asking where you guys went. He wants to play pool.”
By now, Aaron and Jackson were alone in the driveway. From the corner that Jasmine had turned, the sight of her had not yet returned, and the pair moved to the porch steps at a pace that was hardly perceptible.
“How’s Val?” Jackson asked, addressing Cordelia, who stood at the top of the porch steps.
“I’ll tell you,” she replied. “Come on.”
“Jaz said she’s coming back?” Aaron interjected; as he spoke, Cordelia opened the porch door for her friends.
“Obviously. Come on.”
“Where did they park?”
“Over by Sixth, I’m sure. Who cares?” Still, no sight of Jasmine came, and the progress of Aaron and Jackson had taken them far enough up the driveway that they could no longer see down the sidewalk. Following a final ambiguous look, the pair mounted the porch stairs, each not letting on that he continued looking over his shoulder.
CHAPTER SIX
A Coordinated Evening
