Chapter 3: Wicked Bitch of the West

When we arrived at the HAGS party it was already well underway with loud music and lots of people. It was an outdoor function on the lawn behind the Sports and Rec. complex, and with typical undergrad ingenuity, someone had hooked up a couple of guitar amps to their mobile phone and backed in a Toyota Hilux ute and filled the tray with ice, domestic beer, and both types of pre-mixed drinks: Jim-Beam-and-Coke AND Johnny-Walker-and-Coke. Awesome! Just what it was like when I was an undergrad. I could come back in fifty years and they might have a new ute, but everything else would be the same. In their defence, the type of girls who typically come to these things already liked beer, so a few bottles of bubbly or chardonnay would just be a waste of precious student union funding.

Belinda had joined HAGS the day before, but I had to present at the signup desk, which was manned – and I use the term loosely – by a spotty 19-year-old whose mother probably still bought all his clothes at Target. Not that I should judge. His jaw dropped and his eyes popped when I stepped up to the desk and he gulped audibly as he handed me a ballpoint pen. I had to bend over the table to fill in the form and when I looked back up again there was a decidedly rosy glow to his cheeks to match my dress.

"Can I ... um ... get a... ?" he held up his phone questioningly.

"A photo?" Belinda trilled. "Sure! Miz Watson loves photo ops with her fans."

"BELINDA!" I hissed. I doubt he believed her line of bullshit because I had to show him my student ID a moment earlier to sign up; but Belinda's attitude spoke of a desire to milk as much fun out of me as she could tonight. If I'm being honest, I'd have to admit I was enjoying it; the boy at the sign-up desk wasn't the only one looking at me with his mouth open, and some of them were bordering on cute to good-looking.

Belinda took his phone and ushered him around the desk to stand between me and the life-sized Hermione cut-out. I gave my hair what I hope looked like a playful flick and put my arm around him; the poor guy didn't know what to do with his hands; he was too overwhelmed to touch me.

"Smile!" Belinda sang.

I turned my head and got up on tip-toes to give him a kiss on the cheek just as she took the photo and a small group of onlookers burst into spontaneous applause. I didn't know what to do then, so I just gave them a smile and a wave and Belinda hurried me towards the beer-ute for a drink. She fished two cans out of the ice and we opened them to a stereo hiss of escaping gas.

"A toast," she smiled mischievously, holding up her can. "To Hermione," she said.

"To Hermione," I agreed with a big grin and took a mouthful of beer.

"Queen of the maths geeks," she continued with a giggle. "May she forever have her choice of hot undergrad boy-flesh."

I snorted and almost blew foam out my nose but settled for an uncontrolled coughing fit instead, with Belinda laughing and clapping me on the back.

"You're a bitch, Belinda," I said smiling, not a trace of malice.

"To Belinda," she toasted again merrily. "Good bitch of the South."

"Judy Garland's ghost will haunt you for that," I laughed, and then drank along with her.

With a can of beer inside me and a lot of laughing, I had a little buzz on; I couldn't remember ever having so much fun. Belinda and I weren't the only girls there, but all the others seemed to be partnered up. Andrew hadn't turned up yet, so even though Belinda had the appearance of a single girl, in reality I was just about the only one.

Belinda was playing a game of Guess the Major with me; pointing out a more or less geeky guy and trying to guess his Major. Her knowledge of science was pretty limited, so I kept guessing ever more improbable and nerdy branches of mathematics and physics, making up justifications for my choices based on how they looked and what they wore.

"What about that guy?" she asked, nodding towards a short, round guy wearing a red T-shirt with a silver triangle that looked like a super-hero insignia.

"Easy," I said. "Spherical Trigonometry."

Belinda giggled dutifully at my wit. "And him?" a tall gaunt guy with a droopy moustache.

"String theory," I said, deadpan.

"That's not a real thing," she giggled. "How can you have a theory of string? What about sticky-tape theory?"

"They missed a golden opportunity there," I said. "They called the next one Super-String Theory instead."

"You're making this up!" she poked me.

"I am not!" I laughed. "Don't you want to know what came next?"

"Super-Dooper String Theory?" she guessed.

"That's pretty close," I laughed. "Second Super-String Theory."

"And they let these people walk around free?" she snorted.

"Don't worry, you're safe," I said. "Physicists hardly ever leave the lab. The ones here are all high-functioning."

"You're not very nice to your fellow geeks, you know," she said, laughing.

"They're not my geeks," I smiled. "I've had two beers. I have the I.Q. of a humanities undergrad now."

"Jeannie!" she hissed at me with a big grin. "Wicked bitch of the West!"

"I told you, don't go there," I drained my can of beer and felt a warm buzz in my middle. "Judy Garland's ghost will rip off your head and shit down your neck."

"You're having fun, aren't you?" she laughed. "Let's get you another beer and then we can find you some nice men."

We were making our way over to the beer-ute when Belinda's phone rang.

"It's Andrew," she said. "Hang on, it's probably some lame excuse for why he's late."

She answered it, but couldn't hear properly over the music. She caught my eye and held up a finger – just one minute – and then trotted off to find a quieter place.

I realised with a chill that I was all alone without my wing-girl for protection, and... yep, everyone was watching me. Well, not everyone exactly; just all the single guys. I felt like a leg of lamb dropped into the shark tank ... and in a moment they would start to feed.

I looked around in desperation, thinking that maybe I could mitigate things by choosing my own guy to talk to. As I searched the faces, one guy stepped through the crowd, searching around like he was lost. He was pretty short, about 5'6", but still taller than me even in low heels. He looked well-dressed in jeans and an open collar shirt that showed off a strong neck and a little bit of hair on his chest. His beard made it hard to tell the shape of his face, but he had cute cheekbones, dark eyes and thick, wavy, dark brown hair.

Still scanning the faces in the crowd, his eyes passed straight over me and then, like a delayed reaction, I saw them widen and flick back again, almost imperceptibly dropping to take in the tight bodice of my dress before he locked back onto my eyes.

I almost looked away, but with the boldness gained by a couple of cans of beer I kept eye contact and smiled. He was cute and exactly the type of guy that Belinda had brought me here to meet.

Miraculously, he came towards me. Oh shit, here goes. I wish I had another drink.

"Hi," he said simply. "I'm looking for someone."

Oh my goodness, that was bold! I guess I came here looking for someone too, but I'm hardly about to march up to a stranger and announce it.

"Well, perhaps you've found her," I smiled. Holy crap! Who said that? 'Cos it sure as shit wasn't the Jeannie I grew up with!

"Pardon?" his eyes widened with surprise, not quite sure he heard that right.

"My name's Jeannie," I said, moving my lips closer to his ear; ostensibly to make sure he heard me, but also to smell his aftershave, which was something woody and reminiscent of the outdoors.

"I'm Kevin," he copied my action by leaning close to my ear and I felt a tingle of excitement wondering if he was smelling me too. "I'm sorry," he continued, "but I have to confess that I don't know you."

"What?" I smiled, but I was confused. "Well that makes us even."

"No," he shook his head. "I don't recognise you. I mean, I know you're some kind of celebrity, but I'm not very good with names or faces."

This was entertaining. I usually get told exactly who I look like, but this was almost the exact opposite. "Then how do you know I'm not just some boring Pure Maths post-grad?" I grinned playfully.

"Because there's a life-sized cardboard cut-out of you beside the sign-up desk," he informed me. "That's why I noticed you when I came in. I thought you were another cut-out until you moved."

"Oh!" I said, disappointed. "Is that the only reason?"

"Um? Oh, no," he backpedalled. "Just at first. Your dress; it's ... um ... very..."

"Conspicuous?"

"Striking, I was going to say," he laughed, recovering nicely. "But yes, that too." We looked around together at the collection of t-shirts and jeans, plus a small number of Hogwarts school uniforms like Belinda's. "Why are there school kids here drinking Jimmy-and-Coke?"

I suddenly understood the last minute of conversation; he doesn't know Harry Potter or Hogwarts ... and he certainly doesn't know Hermione Granger.

"Kevin," I laughed. "Do you know what party you're at?"

"Hags?" he asked uncertainly.

"Which stands for?" I raised an eyebrow. I shouldn't tease, but this was kind of fun.

"I didn't know it stood for anything," he admitted, scratching his beard. "I just thought it was playful self-deprecation, like the Old Bastards Club. Hardly any of them are old ... I didn't ask about their parents though."

"So you came to HAGS to see if it was studded with young hotties?" I laughed.

"No," he shook his head, smiling to indicate that he got the joke. "I told you, I'm looking for someone. He told me to meet here."

"Hi Kev," Belinda returned carrying fresh drinks. "Andrew says he running late. He told me to find you and feed you beer." She handed cans to both of us. "I didn't know you two knew each other."

"We don't," I said, my mind was trying to catch up. I was beginning to enjoy Kevin's company and when Belinda stepped in, my inner lioness growled 'he's mine'. "Hang on, how do you two know each other?"

"Kevin is Andrew's best mate," Belinda explained. "Now, Jeannie," she smiled at me, "we need to find you a guy so that you don't scare the game away from Kev. When Andrew gets here, he's going to want to get straight into wing-man mode."

"Oh!" I looked back and forth between Kevin and Belinda. How could I tell her I'd already picked a man to meet? "I thought I might ... ah..."

"I'm messing with you, Jeans," she giggled. "You two are cute. And single! How cool is that?"

"So ... ah ... you two know each other," Kevin frowned.

"Roommates," Belinda smiled. "Or are we besties, sweetie?"

"Besties," I agreed with a forced smile. Until you scare Kevin off, then you're public enemy number one, bitch.

"And you're not a celebrity?" Kevin asked.

"Did you tell him you were Emma Watson?" Belinda laughed. "That's my job, stop spoiling my fun!"

"I'm a boring, Pure Maths post-grad," I smiled at Kevin.

"Oh!" he said. He didn't look disappointed at all. "I'm Applied Maths. Honours year, so technically a dirty under-grad like Belinda."