Get Over It (17 page)

T
he night of the step show has finally arrived and Club Pyramids is packed with students from all over Atlanta. Each Greek organization is dressed to the nines in their colors. Every time I see a flash of turquoise I cringe, because I definitely don't want to run into Gamma Phi Gamma.

They've been blowing up my phone and Gia's phone ever since the club incident with Piper. Mostly, they wanted Gia to come back and help them, but a few of them wanted to express an apology to Piper.

Speaking of Piper, we couldn't get her to come out of the house to view the demise of the Gamma Girls. She's convinced that they'll figure out a way to turn it around and embarrass her yet again. She's got post-traumatic stress syndrome when it comes to those Gammas.

The concert is immediately following the step show, but I'm more nervous about the step than I am the concert. I've sung with Dreya and Bethany hundreds maybe thousands of times. It's almost as natural as breathing.

The step show competition gets under way, and the girls are first. There are some groups that have very simple steps, and you can just tell they're there to represent their organization, and not necessarily there to win. Then, you've got groups like the Gamma Phi Gammas who have practiced so hard, that you know exactly what they came to do.

Speaking of the Gamma Girls, their performance was okay. They seemed to have had some of the girls sit out and only the strongest are stepping. The smiles are bittersweet when they miss a couple of steps, but they got a round of applause anyway, if for nothing but the skin-tight sports bra and biker short outfits they have on. Some of those girls actually look obscene in that outfit, like a video vixen in a video.

The Betas drew the straw for the last performance, so they have the entire time to stand there and get nervous.

Gia reassures them. “You guys are better than them, plus you have a Grammy-winning artist singing up there with you. Take advantage of it.”

When it's the Betas' turn, they run onto the stage in their red and white like a tightly knit platoon squad. Their steps are so synchronized that, instead of separate girls, they look like one combined creature with multiple legs.

I get up on the stage in the corner and say, “Hey, everybody! We're going to party it up for the last step. And while we party, we want everybody to know that hazing is wrong! Bullying is not okay. This one is for you, Piper.”

A huge round of applause comes from the audience. It's applause I wish Piper could've heard. These people support her. They have no love for the mean girls who hurt my friend.

The beat that Sam prepared specifically for this event kicks in and the Betas start to step. Their moves are flawless as I wait for them to hit my part—the musical part.

I sing, “Watch us step to the left, then we hit the right/we can we can party, we can party all night/but first we get our grades up 'cause we always on our grind/ and we come lookin' fly 'cause the boys are on our mind/ Step it, step it, step it, step it up/We don't, we don't, we don't give it up.”

Now everyone is on their feet! This was totally unexpected! The Betas have the entire room rocking to their beat.

Then, I hit verse two, “We the, we the, flyest, flyest chicks in the South/we came to blow yo' mind and to turn this party out/They keep talkin' 'bout us, don't know what they talkin' 'bout/They like the Gammas, they got diarrhea of the mouth/ Step it, step it, step it, step it up/We don't, we don't, we don't give it up.”

The best part of the step is the diarrhea of the mouth line. Each of the Betas pulled out paper puppets that look like a Gamma Girl, except with a really huge mouth. The crowd roars with laughter, and the Gamma Phi Gammas look mad as all get out, all except Sharday, who bursts into laughter with everybody else.

After we're done, the fraternities get up and do their thing. The boys are definitely more serious with their steps. They dance hard and do tricks that look like they defy gravity.

Before they give the prizes to the winners, Sharday and the campus advisor of Gamma Phi Gamma take the stage. A hush falls over the room as the advisor takes the microphone.

She says, “As some of you know, there have been a few unfortunate hazing incidents that have taken place either on campus or off campus at events attended by students of the Atlanta University Center. The Gamma Phi Gamma organization does not condone these activities and would like to personally extend an apology to all of those involved. Furthermore, all Greek-affiliated students who participated in the humiliation and degradation of a fellow student will be stripped of their Greek affiliation, and not be allowed to join any other sorority or fraternity, either in an undergrad chapter or graduate chapter. Because of activities responsibly reported by members of Gamma Phi Gamma, the sorority is unfortunately disqualified from this year's step show competition, but will be allowed to retain its charter after proper removal of the at-fault sorors. Thank you for your time and attention. Please carry on with the festivities.”

From my place on the side of the stage, I look for Peony. Her face is as white as a sheet and she seems very small from where I'm standing. She knows what it is. Her Greek days are over. She'll have to finish out her last two years of college, just being a regular non-Greek.

The Betas win second place in the step show, finishing behind Delta Zeta. The Delta Zeta girls are primarily cheerleaders, and their step had complex acrobatics in it. They were supposed to win, and would've beat everyone anyway, including Gamma Phi Gamma.

After the step show, Sharday finally catches up with me backstage. She says, “Hey, Sunday.”

“What's going on, Sharday? Why did you want to see me?” I ask.

Sharday says, “Well, I wanted to tell you that we're kicking Peony out of the sorority.”

“I figured that much after your advisor's speech. I actually feel kind of sorry for her. Isn't Gamma Phi Gamma her life?”

“Yeah, but she'll get over it. She'll find something else to do where she can bully people around.”

I say, “I just hope Piper gets over it. Every time she sees turquoise I think she wants to vomit.”

“That's too bad, because I was going to invite her to cross the burning sands with the other pledges and become a member of Gamma Phi Gamma.”

“What makes you think she wants that?” I ask.

“She does, more than anything. She was even willing to put up with Meagan's white girl jokes that got really bad.”

“I'll let her know you want to talk to her,” I say. “Maybe she will be interested in being a part of your sorority. I'm not sure.”

“She didn't come tonight?” Sharday asks.

“No. Technically, she's banned from the club because of what happened and she was drinking underage and all that. So, she's at home.”

“Well, please let her know what happened.”

When I see Kevin coming toward me like he's on a mission, I know that I must be running late for a sound check for the concert.

“Come on, Sunday, you guys are up in like ten minutes,” Kevin says.

“Oh! Somebody could've gotten me. I'm ready to practice.”

We do a few minutes of sound checking, before it's time to get ready for the show. Backstage, we've got a stylist running around with outfits, a makeup artist waving a brush in the air, and Evan pacing back and forth like Dreya's in labor instead of doing a concert.

“Let's go!” Evan says. “Someone needs to get a size-four dress that fits my pregnant wife. Room in the stomach and snug everywhere else! Where's the stylist?”

I ignore Evan's pleas for a stylist and I get myself dressed to go out on the stage. I'm fully dressed and in makeup before Evan locates the stylist for Dreya's outfit. Bethany does what I do, and flits from here to there looking for someone who'll put some makeup on her face.

Out on stage, first I sing one of my songs, then Bethany sings one, and finally Dreya. We all take our time singing our favorite beats because we have no idea when we'll be here again, all singing together.

When we get to our “family” song, there isn't a dry eye in the house. Bethany sings her part with such raw emotion that I think the college students really felt that. Bethany's voice is very mature, and it sounds like she's been singing for a hundred years.

At the end of the set, we all, including Evan, come out on the stage. He takes the microphone from Dreya's hand and says, “Hey, everybody, I hope you enjoyed the show. These three work together, sing together, and play together. They are sisters in every way but blood. This is what Reign Records stands for. Family and togetherness. Give it up for these ladies!”

A round of applause rings through the club. I hug Bethany and hold her tight, reminding myself to make sure she gets back to the rehab place after we leave her.

We take a bow and head off the stage when the shots ring out. I hear a bullet buzz so close to my face that I think I'm hit, only to realize that it was nothing. It is chaos all around and everyone drops to the floor. Bullets are flying all over, from both sides of the club! I see Big D waving a gun around, and Bryce's bodyguards are knocking people to the ground.

I hear Dreya screaming, “Help! Help me!”

I rush over to her, and ask, “What is wrong? Did you get shot?”

“No.” She points at Evan's crumpled-up body on the floor.

I run over to Evan's bleeding body. He's been shot in the neck and blood is spurting out all over the place. “Somebody call 9-1-1! Please!”

I tear off a piece of Evan's shirt and try to apply pressure to his neck so he doesn't bleed out completely.

He takes my hand and says, “Take care of Dreya and my baby.”

“No, I will not. You're going to take care of them yourself because you're going to be there to do it yourself.”

Someone yells, “The shooter is still in the building!”

People run in every different direction. Some out of the club, and some must feel safer in the interior of the club. We're still stuck on stage right on display for everyone.

The paramedics give Evan medicine for pain, and put an oxygen mask across his face just as he drifts away into unconsciousness.

Sam runs from backstage and takes me by the arm. “Come on! Let me get you to safety.”

“What about Dreya?” I ask.

Sam says, “Okay, let's get her too.”

So Sam ends up leading a group of three women, including Bethany, off stage.

Once we're all safe from any shooter that could still be inside, Sam goes outside to investigate. Jonah and Bryce run around the club getting people out.

“Is Evan going to be okay?” Dreya asks. “I need for him to be okay for this baby.”

“He will be,” I say. “Why don't you send up a prayer for him?”

I do send a prayer up for Dreya. And I also send it up for Evan too, and for all of us. Because, I don't know how we're going to hold it all together if Evan is murdered. This is a tragedy outside of the scope of our understanding.

Apparently, Sam is done investigating the club, and he comes backstage again. “Come on, y'all. Do you want to go the hospital with your husband?” he asks Dreya.

She nods. “Can you bring all of us over there? I can't do this by myself.”

Sam ushers us all to the car, like the protector that he is, protecting us from any crowd running out of the club or those who may also have weapons.

Dreya cries all the way to the hospital, and Bethany looks rather pale and her skin has a gray pallor. “Bethany, we're gonna get you back to your side of the hospital, just as soon as we drop off Dreya at this door.”

We get to the hospital door and Dreya jumps out of the car and runs into the hospital screaming uncontrollably. The nurse at the visitation station looks at Dreya and rolls her eyes.

“You must be with that thug inside.”

“What do you mean?”

The nurse says, “Most of the people who've come in here look like you. Partygoers.”

“Well, my husband was shot, and I wasn't partying, I was working,” Dreya says. “I need a doctor to tell me the status of my husband. Evan Wilborn.”

“He's in surgery now, ma'am. You're just going to have to hold on for a little while until he can get his surgery completed.”

We all sit nervously holding hands in the visitors' area waiting for anything or anyone to pop up and say that Evan is going to be fine. Doctors are emerging from all over the place, but none of them are walking toward us.

Finally, a young female doctor who doesn't even look as old as us walks up to our huddled together crew.

“Mrs. Wilborn?” the doctor says. “Your husband will survive. The surgery went well. We were able to reestablish his heart functionality using a vein from his thigh.”

“So he's gonna be all right?”

The doctor says, “It is touch and go right now. I can't make any promises on whether or not he's going to make it. Right now, you've got about a fifty percent chance.”

I don't like those odds, so I call my mother. “Mom?” I ask when she answers.

“Mom, can you please pay for Dreya and Evan? Evan's been shot, Mom.”

My mother screams at the top of her lungs. “What? Where's Dreya?”

“Right here sitting next to me. She's not hurt.”

“Thank God for that.”

Then I look over to the right at Sam. His arm looks twisted a little in one place and he was limping a little bit.

“Sam what's up with your arm?” I ask.

“I think it's broken,” he says. “But I'm okay. Let them take care of the life-threatening injuries. I can't even feel it right now. I think there's something wrong with my leg too, but don't worry about it.”