but she declined all pledge bids. Asking her parents for additional money each month for sorority dues didn’t seem to be the brightest of ideas. Besides, Janie and Frannie didn’t receive a bid to pledge. Piper was out of the question. Allison, Regina, Denise, and Suzanne had no interest at all in the Greek organizations.
Frannie rarely lost her temper. Did she even have one? Her own feelings had been suppressed for so long, she often wondered what would really push her over the edge. It wasn’t until she completed Psychology 101 and delved into abnormal psych that her interest in family dynamics began to peak.
“I’m a hero child,” she announced one afternoon. “Just found that out today.”
“Do we need to get you a cape?” Dena sat on Frannie’s bed flipping through her history book.
“Listen to this.” Frannie opened her book to the page she had marked. “A classic hero child is most often the first born. They rarely show their real emotions, and are usually extremely self-critical. That’s me!”
“Wow.” Janie sat at the small dresser, working to calm down her wild red hair. “It really says that?”
“Yep. And brother Tim is the mascot.” Frannie turned the page. “The mascot of the family is usually the one to act out, goof off, and provide laughter to the family. It says they rarely get in trouble for all their shenanigans.” She slammed the book shut. “He used to get high-fives for his all C report cards! Now, tell me that’s fair.”
Okay, maybe she did have a temper.
The topic of depression also piqued her interest. She seemed to fit all the criteria, especially back in high school when she’d spent so many hours alone in her room. Feeling depressed, which could be identified on a feeling chart with a sad face, differed from actual depression. Clinical depression involved an actual chemical imbalance in the brain.
The weight of her “heaviness” had lightened somewhat since coming to Sam Houston, but she knew the actual density still resided within her. If she did in fact have depression, she didn’t like it. It hurt. A kind of hurt deep inside that couldn’t be touched, only endured. Frannie figured being away from the pressures of Denny and her parents was the reason she could now take something of a deep breath. And the loveable chaos of the BAGs also helped keep a smile on her face. She liked that.
Although she didn’t pledge a sorority, Frannie accompanied the “bad-girl” BAGs to most of the frat parties. She was introduced to coon-dog punch, which convinced her she was certainly going to die the next day. Her liquor tolerance was not quite up to par with the others, though occasionally she could pull a humdinger and have to be the one slipped in at curfew.
The dating scene was a hit and miss deal. Some of the guys she liked to hang out with, others…well, no. Playing foosball, which she mastered, at the beer joints was way more fun than having a drunk-fest at someone’s apartment. And on nights of foosball tournaments, she never had to pay for a beer.
As for Denny? She made it to one of his games that fall semester, but oops, forgot to tell him she was coming in. And guess what? He had a date.
Chapter 10
Regina – 1972
God, how she hated the term “freshman fifteen,” which referred to the proverbial poundage a freshman usually gained their first year at college. And if it wasn’t bad enough, every time she talked to her mother, the subject resurfaced.
“Hey girl, how you doing on that freshman fifteen thing?” Paula seemed to have no idea what effect those words had on her daughter. She should, except her mother’s brain cells were lacking the high-function mode due to the excessive infusion of drugs and alcohol. In fact, if it wasn’t for her mother’s eating disorder over the years, Regina might not have such an excruciating poor self-body image now.
“Do I need to send you some cheese cubes?” Paula laughed
Frannie rarely lost her temper. Did she even have one? Her own feelings had been suppressed for so long, she often wondered what would really push her over the edge. It wasn’t until she completed Psychology 101 and delved into abnormal psych that her interest in family dynamics began to peak.
“I’m a hero child,” she announced one afternoon. “Just found that out today.”
“Do we need to get you a cape?” Dena sat on Frannie’s bed flipping through her history book.
“Listen to this.” Frannie opened her book to the page she had marked. “A classic hero child is most often the first born. They rarely show their real emotions, and are usually extremely self-critical. That’s me!”
“Wow.” Janie sat at the small dresser, working to calm down her wild red hair. “It really says that?”
“Yep. And brother Tim is the mascot.” Frannie turned the page. “The mascot of the family is usually the one to act out, goof off, and provide laughter to the family. It says they rarely get in trouble for all their shenanigans.” She slammed the book shut. “He used to get high-fives for his all C report cards! Now, tell me that’s fair.”
Okay, maybe she did have a temper.
The topic of depression also piqued her interest. She seemed to fit all the criteria, especially back in high school when she’d spent so many hours alone in her room. Feeling depressed, which could be identified on a feeling chart with a sad face, differed from actual depression. Clinical depression involved an actual chemical imbalance in the brain.
The weight of her “heaviness” had lightened somewhat since coming to Sam Houston, but she knew the actual density still resided within her. If she did in fact have depression, she didn’t like it. It hurt. A kind of hurt deep inside that couldn’t be touched, only endured. Frannie figured being away from the pressures of Denny and her parents was the reason she could now take something of a deep breath. And the loveable chaos of the BAGs also helped keep a smile on her face. She liked that.
Although she didn’t pledge a sorority, Frannie accompanied the “bad-girl” BAGs to most of the frat parties. She was introduced to coon-dog punch, which convinced her she was certainly going to die the next day. Her liquor tolerance was not quite up to par with the others, though occasionally she could pull a humdinger and have to be the one slipped in at curfew.
The dating scene was a hit and miss deal. Some of the guys she liked to hang out with, others…well, no. Playing foosball, which she mastered, at the beer joints was way more fun than having a drunk-fest at someone’s apartment. And on nights of foosball tournaments, she never had to pay for a beer.
As for Denny? She made it to one of his games that fall semester, but oops, forgot to tell him she was coming in. And guess what? He had a date.
Chapter 10
Regina – 1972
God, how she hated the term “freshman fifteen,” which referred to the proverbial poundage a freshman usually gained their first year at college. And if it wasn’t bad enough, every time she talked to her mother, the subject resurfaced.
“Hey girl, how you doing on that freshman fifteen thing?” Paula seemed to have no idea what effect those words had on her daughter. She should, except her mother’s brain cells were lacking the high-function mode due to the excessive infusion of drugs and alcohol. In fact, if it wasn’t for her mother’s eating disorder over the years, Regina might not have such an excruciating poor self-body image now.
“Do I need to send you some cheese cubes?” Paula laughed
Similar Books
