by Elle Kennedy
“Bitch, I have no idea what your problem is, but—”
“Not you. Her.” Finger pointed at me, Rebecca charges into the room holding an iPad. “Did you know about this? Why would you do this to me?”
She’s hysterical. Terrifying, even. The first place my mind goes is that this has something to do with Conor.
“What have I ever done to you?” she yells. “What is wrong with you?”
I stand up, Sasha coming up behind me with a hairbrush like she might have to put her down. “Rebecca,” I say evenly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. If you explain—”
“Look at this!”
There’s an audience now. Kappas are gathered in the hallway and peering out of their bedrooms to watch.
Rebecca lunges forward and holds up her iPad in front of my face. The browser’s open to a porn site and a video is cued up.
Even before she hits play my stomach sinks. I can tell just by the still image on screen what she’s about to show me.
The kitchen of the Kappa house. It’s dark, night outside. The only illumination comes from fairy lights strung up across the ceiling, and flashlights the sisters flicker and strobe around us, meant to disorient our overtired eyes. The room is draped in tarps and plastic sheeting to protect the walls and floors, like a scene from a bad sorority row horror movie. The senior members of Kappa Chi stand in a circle around six of us dressed in nothing but white tank tops and panties.
It’s Pledge Week. Freshman year. Abigail stands beside me. Both of us are shy and terrified, questioning why we’d thought any of this was a good idea. Exhausted because by then we’d been awake going on thirty hours. Time spent doing laundry for the sisters, escorting them to and from classes, cleaning the house, and being subjected to six straight hours of “character-proving,” because they’re not allowed to call it hazing anymore. All of which culminated in this scene.
One of the seniors orders the six of us pledges to take body shots off each other in a line, then picks up the garden hose they fed in the side door from the yard and sprays us with it. We cower and tremble, spitting up water. Soaked to the bone. Then another sister points to me.
“Dare or Dare.”
Shivering, I wipe water and hair from my eyes, and say, “Dare.”
She smirks. “I dare you to make out with…” Her attention first lands on Abigail. But knowing the two of us were probably the closest of this pledge class, she opts for a greater embarrassment factor. Her eyes slide to my right. “Rebecca.”
With a nod of agreement to simply grin and bear the terribly unsexy episode of kissing while feeling like a couple of drowned cats, Rebecca and I turn to each other and kiss.
“No, I said make out. Like you fucking mean it, pledges. Fuck her mouth.”
So we do. Because more than anything, pledge week breaks down your sense of self-preservation, your will. By that point our responses were almost automatic. They say jump, we learn to fly.
So there it is on the Internet for horny dudes to wank it to: me and Rebecca, hot and heavy, our clothes soaked through and practically transparent. Tits and vag out on full view.
And it goes on for much longer than I remember. So long I assume it must be looped, until finally it ends and I look up at Rebecca who’s still sobbing. Not in anger anymore, but humiliation. The video has thousands of views in just a few hours. Already, it’s spreading.
To Kappa.
To Greek Row.
The entire campus.
And the only person who could have uploaded it is in this house.
38
Taylor
I’m going to be sick.
The thought reaches my brain well after my stomach spasms and vomit rises in my throat. I bolt for Sasha’s bathroom and barely make it to the toilet before I choke on the hot liquid filling my mouth. I hear the bathroom door shut while I’m rinsing my mouth out and assume it’s Sasha come to check on me. Instead, I turn around to see Rebecca sitting on the edge of the bathtub.
She’s composed herself. Face still red, eyes puffy. Her tears have dried. In their place, a frozen image of resignation.
“So it wasn’t you,” she says dully.
I wipe my face, smearing the makeup Sasha had just applied. “No.”
“I’m sorry I accused you like that.”
Closing the lid of the toilet, I sit down, still trying to get my own heart rate under control. Hurling did a lot to temper my panic, but the longer I’m upright, the faster the thoughts rush back to the surface.
“I understand,” I say.
If I’d been the first of us to see the video, I’m not sure I would have reacted any better. Maybe not charging through the house screaming, but certainly suspicious. Fact is, Rebecca and I have never been friends. She was the shyest of our pledge class back then, and after pledge week we hardly spoke again. Not for lack of trying on my part—it just always seemed when I walked into a room, she found her way to the other side.
Now, something’s changed. Besides the obvious, I mean. She sits there looking at me, defeated, like all this time she’s tried to outrun me and her knee’s finally given out.
“My parents are going to kill me,” Rebecca whispers, hanging her head. She sighs. A big burdened release, as if rather than fearing the consequences, she’s almost relieved to accept them.
“They wouldn’t really blame you for the video getting out, would they? They have to understand it’s not your fault.”
“You don’t get it.” Her fingernails dig into the folio cover on her iPad, leaving crescent shapes in the fake leather. “My parents are ultra conservative, Taylor. They hardly associate with anyone outside their church. My dad didn’t even want me to pledge a sorority, but I convinced my mom that Kappa was basically like joining a bible study group. She said they hoped it would teach me how to be a proper young lady.”
A frown touches my lips. “What does that mean?”
It’s hard to imagine my own mother ever going on a parent kick, trying to tell me what to do. I think the last time she told me to clean my room was when I lost the class ferret somewhere in the month-old laundry pile.
“I had my first girlfriend in eighth grade,” Rebecca says, meeting my eyes. “We were only together for a couple weeks when a girl caught us kissing in the band room and told her mom, who went to church with my parents. My dad bullied my girlfriend’s parents until they finally pulled her out of band and got her transferred out of any classes we had together. We were forbidden to see each other.” She shakes her head bitterly. “Every summer after that, my Dad sent me to bible camp. Started setting me up with boys from church. Usually some gay kid who was just as mortified and depressed to be forced to kiss a girl in painfully staged date pictures. By the time I graduated high school, though, I’d convinced them I was reformed. I could be trusted again. I figured living in a sorority house would at least keep my parents from dropping in whenever they felt like it to snoop through my room or hide cameras in my walls.”
“Shit, Rebecca. I had no idea. I’m sorry.”
She shrugs. A sad grin makes a fleeting appearance, then vanishes. “I’m sorry we never became friends.”
“No, I get it.” I bite my lip. “I can’t pretend to know how you feel, but I get it.”
A lot of us are trapped in our own lives. Told we’re made wrong, deficient. As if being ourselves is somehow an affront to society. Some of us are constantly beaten with a stick of conformity until we learn to love the pain or give up altogether. I still haven’t figured my way out of that trap. Yet there’s nothing worse than when it’s your own family on the other end of that stick. Which pretty much makes Rebecca the strongest person I know—and one hell of an ally.
“So what are we going to do?” she says quietly.
My teeth dig harder into my lip. “Only a Kappa could have shared that video.”
“Agreed.”
“I have a pretty good idea who.”
I don’t remember who was holding the phone.
One of the seniors, I’d guess. Except for rituals, all pledge activities were recorded for “posterity.”
The real question is, who had access to the video. I’ve never seen any footage from mine or another pledge week aside from the highlight reel that always runs at the first dinner after confirmations. It makes sense the person who would have control over that archive is the president.
And her VP.
Downstairs, Rebecca and I confront Charlotte in the lounge. She’s alone, curled up in a high-back chair with her laptop open and her headphones on. Considering the commotion a few minutes ago, I would’ve expected her to have circled the wagons, as it were.
“We have to talk,” I tell her.
Charlotte pushes one of her headphones off one ear, lifting an irritated eyebrow without looking up from her screen. “What?”
“We need to talk,” I repeat.
“Do we?”
“Yes,” Rebecca insists.
Charlotte’s gaze remains on the laptop. Lately she’s completely checked out. She’s graduating and Abigail was named her successor, so there’s not much left for Charlotte to do than hand over the keys and pose for a photo that’ll hang on the wall with the other former presidents. We’ve all noticed the change in her attitude in that regard. Full-on senioritis.
“Charlotte,” I snap.
Rolling her eyes, she slides the headphones off and shuts her laptop. “Fine. What is it?”
“This.” Rebecca shoves her iPad in Charlotte’s face and presses play again on the video.
At first, Charlotte appears bored, confused, glancing at us for an explanation. Then I watch the realization dawn on her. She scrolls down to read the comments. Scrolls up to look at the website name at the top of the page. Her startled eyes dart up to ours.
“Who posted this?” she demands, fire in her voice. Charlotte Cagney is a force to be reckoned with, which is why she was elected president in the first place. Everyone voted out of fear of what would happen to all those who opposed her. No one dared run against her.
“We came to ask you that,” I say pointedly. “You’re saying you don’t know?”
“This is the first I’m seeing of this.” She shoves her laptop to the side and stands. “I just got back from graduation rehearsal and was trying to study for finals. How did you find this?”
Rebecca’s lips tighten. “I just got home and found Nancy and Robin watching it in the kitchen.”
“Sigma has seen it, too,” I add. “So you can bet it’s all over campus by now.”
I see the sudden change in Charlotte’s eyes. From small kitchen fire to scorching inferno. She shoves the iPad at Rebecca and storms out of the room, still talking as if she hasn’t left us in her dust.
“Get everyone to the blue room,” she says. Then, shouting, “House meeting, motherfuckers!” Charlotte tears up to the second floor and starts banging on doors. “Everyone downstairs now!” Then back down and through every room. Beth and Olivia are with a group in the TV room, their backs turned, when Charlotte launches a banana at their heads. “Blue room. Get up.”
I have no idea where she picked up the projectile banana.
Rebecca stands somewhat behind me once we’ve all gathered in the blue room. We wait a few minutes, everyone staring at each other, bracing for impact, while the last stragglers haul ass back to the house for the meeting. Abigail then takes the roll to confirm we’re all here before Charlotte begins.
My eyes meet Abigail’s from across the room. I try to read her for any hint or tell, but she’s impassive.
“Alright, it’s come to my attention that there’s a video going around.” Charlotte’s glare lands on Nancy and Robin, who at least have the decency to look contrite. “And apparently none of you thought it appropriate to make your house president aware of this severe breach of trust and privacy.”
Sasha works her way through the room to stand with me and Rebecca. She slips her fingers through mine, and I squeeze her hand, grateful for her presence.
“Robin, what’s the first tenet of the Kappa creed?” Charlotte demands.
Chewing on her thumbnail, a nervous Robin stares at her feet. “I will protect my sister as myself.”
Next Charlotte turns her blazing ire on the sister who’s turning beet red. “Nancy, what’s the second tenet of the Kappa creed?”
Nancy tries to speak but only air comes out. Then, voice shaking, “To act with honor and integrity.”
“Yeah,” Charlotte says, pacing the room like she’s got a loaded pistol, “that’s what I thought. But apparently some of you have forgotten that. So I want to know who the sister fucker is. Who is the selfish little shit who stole a private video from the Kappa archive and uploaded it to a porn site?”
A shocked silence crashes over the room.
It becomes evident then who had still been in the dark. Questioning eyes begin scanning the room, factions trading accusatory glances. I spot more confused faces than I expected. I guess I figured every girl in the house had already seen the video and was laughing about it behind our backs. But other than Nancy and Robin, I pick out only a few other girls who I suspect might’ve known.
Naturally, my examination of Abigail lasts the longest. A deep groove has cut into her forehead, but I’m not sure what it means. Is she stunned? Baffled?
Her green eyes keep sliding around to study the faces of our sisters. Searching for the culprit…or looking for allies?
“Nope, uh-uh,” Charlotte says, wagging her finger. “Don’t go quiet on me now. Your big-girl ass thought this was a good idea—you can’t walk that shit back now. Someone’s going to confess, or we will sit here all night. All day. Until the end of fucking time until one of you little brats tells the truth.”
Abigail just stands there, arms crossed. Not saying a word.
I can’t stand it any longer.
“Abigail,” I call out, and the oxygen is sucked out of the room. “Have anything to say?”
She flinches. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, I’m just checking my watch and, oh, look, it’s spiteful-bitch-thirty, so maybe you have something to add to this conversation.”
Sasha’s eyes go wide as she turns to me in slow motion, staring at me as if I’ve grown a second head. And maybe I have. This one’s fed the fuck up.
“You’re accusing me?” Abigail’s voice jumps two octaves as her face crinkles in denial. “I didn’t have anything to do with it!”
“Really? Because you’re the only person in this room who’s made it her unending mission to ruin my life, so…”
“Only two people have the password to the server where the archive is stored,” Charlotte says, her attention now trained on Abigail. “You’re the other one.”
“I didn’t do it.” She tosses her hands up, pleading. “I swear. Okay, I admit, there’s a beef there, but I would never upload revenge porn of another woman.”
“Even a woman you hate?” I snap back.
Abigail drops her hands. For the first time in years, she looks at me with sincerity. “Not even my worst enemy. That’s not who I am.”
Silence falls over the room. My gaze remains locked with the platinum blonde who’s made my life miserable for so long.
Fuck me, but I believe her.
“Then who is it?” I challenge. “Who wanted to humiliate me?”
Because I know this was about me. Rebecca and I might have remained obscure to one another since freshman year, but I can’t think of anyone who even mildly dislikes her enough to humiliate her like this. The target had to be me.
“I have the password saved on my phone,” Abigail says, growing visibly anxious. “If someone broke into my phone…”
I’m not sure she means to do it, or is even consciously aware, when her gaze slides to Jules, who’s trying to blend into a potted plant at the back of the room.
When Jules realizes she’s been singled out, she reveals a panicked expression that is quickly overcome by betrayal.
“Did you hack my phone?” Abigail asks her best friend, a note of horror in her tone.
At first it appears she might deny it, but then the pretense falls. Jules huffs, rolls her eyes. “It was just a joke, okay? They both had their clothes on. What’s the big deal?”
Abigail’s jaw falls open. “Why?” she demands. “Why would you ever do something like that?”
Jules offers a shrug, her body language trying to downplay it all. “The other night, remember? Kev said something like, I wonder how many views Taylor’s tits would get on PornHub. So later I was over at the Sigma house visiting Duke, and Kevin was there. He and I were talking, and I was like, well, I can totally get a video of her tits. And the next time you left your phone out, I tried a few passwords until I got it unlocked.” Jules shakes her head defiantly. “Like it wasn’t a big thing. Just a dumb prank. Why is everyone getting so bent out of shape?”
“Christ, Jules, would it kill you to grow a mind of your own?”
“Fuck off, Sasha. Taylor started it by kissing Abigail’s ex! She’s the sister fucker. And she would’ve left Kappa by now if she didn’t have you always fighting her battles for her.”
“You’re a real cunt, Jules, You know that?”
My eyes widen, because that one came from Rebecca.
“Oh, stuff it up your cooch, Rebecca. If anyone wanted to yank it to a ten-year-old boy they’d become a priest.”
“All of you, shut up!” Charlotte shouts. She closes her eyes, massaging her temples like a mother just before she blacks out and smothers her new baby in its crib.
“I call for an emergency vote.”
I frown at Abigail’s declaration. I look over to see her nudging Olivia beside her, who seconds the motion even though she hardly seems to understand why.
Charlotte gives a slow nod. “Okay, call your vote.”
“All in favor of revoking Jules’s membership in Kappa Chi sorority and evicting her from the house, raise your hands.”