Fenno was standing in the Hark, perusing the First Year face book. She’d gotten’ to the K’s and was wondering whether or not Robert Kent’s photo was a glamour shot when Andria Boateng walked by.
“Hi, Fenno,” she said, flashing her patented dimpled smile.
“Hey, Andria. What’s up?” Fenno replied. Fenno liked Boateng despite her being from Texas. She was such a nice girl. How could anyone not like her?
“Not much, I’m just looking for Brandon. Have you seen him?”
By Brandon, Fenno knew Boateng was talking about Brandon Hill. Did he still go to school here? Fenno hadn’t seen him all year. She was beginning to wonder whether or not he’d gotten’ arrested for being Black in Pound Hall again. “Nope. Where were you supposed to meet him?”
“Here in the Hark, but since they’ve gotten’ rid of the big wooden table, he could be anywhere,” she said as she started up the ramp.
Just then , the doors to the Hark slowly began to open. Someone had pushed the handicapped button. Fenno shivered a burst of icy wind swept in. “Damn lazy law students,” she thought.
“Andriaaa! Andriaaa!” It was Hill, and it just so happened to be that he was using a single crutch. He looked terrible.
“Brandon? Brandon?” Boateng’s voice could be heard from the top of the ramp.
Fenno watched as Boateng rushed down the ramp to Hill who was slowly limping towards the ramp and his beloved Andria.
“What happened Brandon? Did you hurt yourself playing basketball?” Boateng asked reaching out to help Hill stand up straight.
“Well, kinda’,” Hill replied. “I was thinking about playing basketball, so I stood up to get my shoes. That’s when I rolled my ankle by stepping on a pair of socks. Then I fell and hit my eye on the corner of my desk, and broke my arm when I hit the floor. Lucky for me, this wasn’t as bad as last year when I tore a ligament in my Achilles’ stepping of the curb too quickly.”
Fenno shook her head and headed towards Pound. Hill was always getting hurt, so there was no need to stick around and pretend to empathize with him. Tonight was opening night of the Parody, and Fenno didn’t want to miss the Happy Hour beforehand. Fenno’s third-year paper wasn’t going so well, and Fenno really needed a drink.
Fenno tramped up the stairs of Pound Hall. Elevators were for fat-asses, Fenno was taking the stairs.
“Hey, Fenno. Wait up.”
Fenno turned around to see Kemoy Foster running up the stairs, and as usual she looked beautiful.
“Hi, Kemoy,” Fenno said kissing her lightly on the cheek. “Going to the Parody?”
“Nope, just the Happy Hour, but don’t I look fab-u-lous?”
Fenno laughed. Of course she did, but Fenno wasn’t going to tell her that. “Shut-up and buy me a drink, then I’ll be complimentary,” Fenno replied. If Fenno were to finally suppress those old Puritan notions that she’d grown up with, she would definitely want to date a woman like Foster. She had it all, brains and beauty. But, for now, Fenno would have to be content with those of the opposite sex.
The Happy Hour turned out not to be so happy for Fenno. After buying Fenno a drink, Foster had wandered off to talk to John Matthews and Taj Wilson. Matthews and Wilson always seemed to be at the Inn, getting drunk, and looking to pick up chicks. Fenno couldn’t believe that two good-looking BLSA members like them couldn’t ever find dates, but what did Fenno know. Maybe they liked being single. God knows it worked for Antonio Delgado until he finally fell for Lauren Sudeall.
In addition to having been ditched, Fenno found out that the drinks at the Parody were more expensive than those at a real bar. Plus, they only had beer and Fenno couldn’t afford to drink as much beer as it would take to have made the Parody really funny.
Fenno began to look for her seat. Unfortunately it was behind Alex Gordon. As usual, he’d found an LLM from some place like Slovokia, who thought any American husband would do. Alex and the very blonde LLM spent half the show making out. In addition to that, Fenno had to see Byron McLain in his underwear! Fenno thought she’d lost her sight after the exposure.
“Psst. Fennnnnoooooo. Wanna’ drink?” It was Soren Aandahl and he was pretty toasted. Fenno didn’t even ask what it was, she just took the flask and began to chug whatever was in it. Whatever it was, if it was strong enough to get Aandahl drunk, it was definitely strong enough for Fenno. It tasted like gasoline, but by the time Bettina Clark sang her solo and coughed up a hairball at the end of it, Fenno was pretty blasted. For all Fenno knew, Clark had the voice of an angel.
“Thanks for the drink, Soren,” Fenno said turning to where Aandahl had just been sitting, but he was no longer there. Oh well, Fenno thought, she’d thank him another time. But when Fenno turned her attention back to the stage, she was surprised to see Aandahl there, bumbling through the show’s last number as if he belonged. What balls!?!
As Fenno stumbled out of the performance, she ran into Femi Giwa.
“Party at my house tonight, Fenno,” he said in that really low-key voice of his. Fenno wouldn’t have heard him, except for the fact that he’d said the word party. “It’s going to be sponsored by Rockstar Energy Drinks.”
“Cool,” Fenno replied. “I’ll definitely be there,” she tried to say, but all she really said was, “air,” but added the nod and point that was really popular with lawyers.
“Will there be minorities there?” Fenno turned to see Tessa Platt, looking rather indignant and offended.
“I’m Native American, and a minority you know. I want to make sure that real minorities like me will be represented.”
Fenno groaned and Giwa pretended not to hear. Fenno started down the stairs.”Hi Fenno. Need some help?”
“Oooh,” Fenno thought, it was Chaz Arnett. Fenno slung her arm over his shoulder,
“Shanks,” she mumbled.
“Are you guys going to the party?” It was Newman Nehas, and he grabbed Fenno’s other arm and draped it over his shoulders. Arnett nodded.
This was turning out to be one hell of an evening, Fenno thought. She spent the entire walk to 1 Frost St. with her fingers in the guys’ hair. They both had such beautiful hair that Fenno just couldn’t resist touching it.
The last thing Fenno remembered was Lowell Schiller streaking across Mass. Ave. in the nude trying to show off the Bush tattoo on his ass and win some respect from the other Federalists. The sight proved to be too much, and it wasn’t until the next morning that Fenno found out that she herself had gone out and gotten’ “Martha Stweart for President” tattooed on her ass. Despite the surprise, Fenno was just glad that she hadn’t done anything that she’d have to report to the bar. Boy, was Fenno going to miss Harvard Law.