Fenno

BY FENNO

Fenno stumbled blearily into the Hark. 7:58 a.m. She was never going to make it to Admin Law on time, but screw it. Who does Kagan think she is, anyway? Starting class at 8:00 in the morning? Who made her queen? Oh, right, President Summers. He probably figured that being Dean of a law school doesn’t really require much talent with numbers. As evidenced here, by Kagan’s seeming inability to tell time and schedule class at a reasonable hour.

Out of habit, Fenno drifted into the Harkbox pen. Fenno didn’t know why she bothered anymore. Her box was consistently full of junk, if not just totally empty.

Today, however, something was different. As Fenno rounded the corner she was hit by a strong whiff of perfume. Fenno knew the smell, but couldn’t place it at first. “What the…?” she was confused when she recognized that it was Sunflowers by Elizabeth Arden, a.k.a., Eau de Sorostitute. Since when were played-out 90s sorority chicks hanging around campus?

Fenno caught a glimpse of Jamie Bartholomew and Angela Kim giggling as they skipped arm in arm away from the boxes, little pink shopping bags dangling from their wrists and leaving a trail of glitter behind them. “What are those two up to?” Fenno wondered. Something was amiss.

Fenno was rattled as she made her way on over to Pound and slunk into the back of the classroom. Dean Kagan was already on stage, lively as usual, strutting around the room and scaring the bejeezus out of unsuspecting victims. She stopped speaking suddenly, and Fenno realized she’d just asked a question. All the students immediately slumped down in their seats, typing furiously. Everyone but Michael Fertik who, as usual, wanted to impart his genius on the class and was straining to catch the professor’s attention without raising his hand.

“Don’t eyeball fuck me, asshole!” Kagan barked, rejecting his silent plea for attention with a dismissive glance. “Ms. Stankunas! You’re the judge, post-Vermont Yankee. An agency wants to add procedural safeguards above and beyond those required by the APA. What say you?”

Tanya Stankunas blinked innocently, “I’m sorry Professor Kagan, but I lost all my notes and books and baking supplies in a fire that consumed the condo where I was living. I’m a still a bit behind from trying to recover from that disaster.”

Kagan rolled her eyes. “Real original, Ms. Stankunas. Did your dog start the fire while he was microwaving your homework? Or is there some other bullshit excuse you’d like to offer?”

Fenno was pretty sure Tanya herself had burned down that building while trying to invent some new Splendariffic Atkins-friendly scone concoction, but doubtless the arson investigators would never be able to prove it. Tanya brought up the inferno in every possible conversation, each time emphatically denying any knowledge of its origins. The Renaissance Faire lady doth protest a bit too much, Fenno thought.

Fenno’s mind drifted as she slipped back out of the classroom to fill her Westlaw mug with caffeine. Why in God’s name had so many people signed up for this class? Sure, Kagan was a Socratic sight to be seen, but the crack of dawn torture sessions were a bit much. Then again, the alternative was Professor Barron who, while also a dynamic teacher, gave Fenno the willies with his extended gaze face-offs. Talk about eyeball fucking.

Fenno didn’t want to return to class, so instead headed back to the Hark to investigate the weirdness from earlier. When she got to the Harkboxes, she found a group of 2Ls chattering animatedly, surrounding a girl holding something pink.

“…we cordially request your glittering presence in a celebration of beauty, strength and power at Harvard Law School. We toast life, and we toast womanhood, as we launch the Vie Society…” Erin Abrams trailed off in a fit of laughter as she read from the letter.

“Is it VEE or VY? Like.. vie in French? Life society? What is that supposed to mean? Pro-life?” puzzled Zoe Segal-Reichlin. “Uh, ick.”

“I think it’s more like vie… as in, vying to be back in college where the rush week was hard, but the frat boy lovin’ was easy,” Jordan Heller replied authoritatively.

“Shh! Shhh! Listen!” Lindsay Rodman read bits of the invitation aloud. “A Princess Party… featuring pink champagne and TIARAS! Holy Shit! It seriously says TIARAS! Dress Code: Princess Chic. Ok, that explains the tiaras. How else would you know you were dressed as a princess, right?”

“You know, I bet they didn’t invite Miss AmErika. She’d have a totally unfair advantage in the tiara department. Then again, maybe they could pass around her scepter and all pretend to be abstinent royalty.” Amy Lehr joked.

Fenno was stunned. Just when she thought she’d have nothing to share for the paper this week, along came a veritable field day of ridiculousness. She peeked over Cassie Marlantes’ shoulder to read more from the pink, scented paper, which was heavily decorated with unicorns and castles and sugar and spice and everything nice.

“In order to best meet our goals, we are only able to accept a limited number of phenomenal females into our organization. We have identified you as one such candidate, and now it’s in your hands to help breathe life into this organization…” Are you shitting me? Fenno marveled.

It seemed from what the girls were saying, however, that only 1Ls and 2Ls had been invited to join the PinkPower faux-rority. Fenno was disappointed. It would’ve been amusing to see which 3Ls might have wanted to join.

Fenno walked around to her box and saw Rebecca Ingber and Rebecca Weiner peering into the 3L slots. “Did you guys hear about this secret princess society?” Fenno asked them. “Do you see any of these invites left for 3Ls?”

“Only Rebekah Parker and Ari Waldman so far,” Rebecca said.

Fenno furrowed her brow. “Ari I understand, of course, he’s the prettiest girl in our class. But Bekah?”

“Yeah, she was like captain of her sorority in college. Or whatever they call that shit. Remember when she was in that Showtime thing on campus? They probably need her to handle logistics,” Rebecca surmised.

Fenno scanned the 3L names and then incredulously pulled a dainty pink package from RM’s box. “Holy hell, RM?” Fenno sputtered. “Are they choosing people based on outright bitchitude?”

“Hey, hey, Fenno. Be nice. You know RM has a hard time making friends with other girls because of her giant boobs,” Rebecca explained. “At least, that’s her theory.”

“Yeah, that’s it,” Fenno replied sarcastically. “I’m so jealous of her rack that it doesn’t even occur to me to think she’s a gunning ice queen,” she paused, “actually, I am jealous.”

Why didn’t I get invited? She would totally make fun of this group! At least I would pretend to like them to get info for the xoxohth board. What does RM have that I lack? I mean, besides a clerkship and the tits?”

Shhhhhh!” Rebecca hissed. “Here comes her brother and his friend!”

As the two 1Ls passed, Fenno recognized the familiar, patented, M family know-it-all tone as JM bragged, “Oh yeah, dude. They’re real. Trust me.”

Fenno snorted and turned to head back to Pound to pick up her laptop. March 23rd at Cabot House, eh? Fenno might just have to crash the V.S. inaugural tea party. She was sure she had a poufy bridesmaid dress in her closet somewhere. And a My Little Pony rub-on tattoo. And some French manicure Lee Press-On nails.

This was going to be fun.

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