She slid her hand between the box spring and mattress of one bed, running it back and forth. Nothing. She turned and did the same to the other bed. Just when she’d resigned herself to the idea that she’d been wrong, her fingers hit something hard. Something glass. Cass closed her fingers around the object and pulled it free. It was a whiskey bottle: Flat, square, and empty.
A sound from outside, like lots of little pebbles on the roof, made Cass look up. She pushed the bottle back where she’d found it, went to the window and opened the square panes using the old brass handles on each one. The slope was frighteningly steep here. If you didn’t know just where to put your feet, you could easily slip.
But that wasn’t what made her catch her breath. What stunned Cass was the view. Overhead, the stars were free of the campus rooftops. And down below she could see over the trees to places that were usually hidden at street level.
She stood there, enjoying the giddy feeling of being able to glimpse things from a new and beautiful vantage point, until she became aware of voices coming from the open window of the room next door—the president’s suite.
“Rachel Morgan was a must-have. How could you let that happen?” demanded a familiar voice. It was Sophia, and she sounded pissed.
“I had no control over it,” Delia protested. “The sisters voted according to the rules . . .”
“Forget the rules!” Sophia hissed. “It’s your job to ensure Sigma gets the best possible pledge class.”
Cass could hear footsteps going back and forth across the floor, as if one or both of them were pacing.
“I couldn’t have overridden the vote,” Delia was saying. “The rules clearly prohibit a chapter president from going above the will of the sisters.”
“And what do they say about sisters like Cassandra Ryland bartering votes in order to save other rushees from getting cut?”
Cass’s cheeks burned at hearing her own name. She leaned closer to the window, both wanting and afraid to hear what Sophia might say next.
“That girl has a lot of nerve making bargains when she’s lucky to be here in the first place.”
“If it strengthens the sisterhood, I don’t think it’s necessarily a bad thing to let Rachel Morgan go,” Delia said. “If what Courtney said is true, then it doesn’t sound like she’s the kind of person we’d want anyway.”
Sophia spoke in a new, darker voice.
“The Morgans own the most successful network of law firms in this region. They could have kept this house in food and electricity for the next four years.”
“Food and what . . . ?” Cass pulled back, confused. It wasn’t a surprise that Sophia was concerned about money, but Cass had thought she wanted a library wing named after her sister. Why, all of a sudden, were Sophia and Delia talking about everyday expenses like electricity?
The pacing got faster, and when Delia spoke again she sounded scared. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I thought I was doing the right thing.”
Sophia was silent. Then Cass thought she heard a sigh.
“Oh, Delia. Of course you did the right thing. You always do. I’m simply urging you to think more creatively when things like this happen. I’m almost afraid to ask this, but . . . I heard some talk about Imogen Ash not coming to any parties today. She didn’t cut us, did she?”
“No.” Delia sounded relieved to be able to deliver some good news. “She had to miss us due to a school conflict, but we’ve automatically asked her back. She’s still our prime prospect.”
“Good,” said Sophia. “Compared to the Ashes, the Morgans are poor law students. But make no mistake about it: Imogen Ash is now critical. Concentrate on her and everything else will fall into place.”
TWENTY-ONE
“This couch is ugly, but it sure is comfortable.”
Maddy shifted on the orange sofa while Rachel channel surfed the old commons TV. They’d been lounging there since getting home from parties at 8:00, and they hadn’t even bothered to change clothes. Maddy’s Bermudas were wrinkled and sweaty but she didn’t care; it just felt so good to rest.
“The only thing I can move is this one finger,” Rachel said. She stopped at an America’s Next Top Model rerun and let the remote fall from her hand. “I am so freaking exhausted.”
“I’m not moving at all,” said Maddy. “Not any more than I have to.”
Just then, the elevator door opened and Imogen dashed out. She skidded across the tile floor in her stockinged feet, almost dropping two steaming boxes of pizza. She got her balance back, shook her hair out of her eyes, and announced, “Food’s here!”
“Okay, I am moving for this.” Maddy sat up so Imogen could sit between her and Rachel. She reached into one of the boxes and took out a gloriously greasy slice of pepperoni with extra cheese. “Oh, wow,” she said as the flavors spread through her mouth. “I’m so used to not eating I didn’t even know how hungry I was.”
“What time is it?” Rachel peered at the TV, fiddling with the remote again. “This thing doesn’t have a clock on it.”
“My phone says ten fifteen.”
“We better eat fast,” said Maddy. “Everybody else’ll be here soon to get their invites.”
Imogen groaned through a mouthful of pizza. “I’m bracing for the apocalypse. Nobody’s going to want me back after I skipped all those parties today.”
Maddy felt horrible for feeling happy about this. Imogen was her friend, and even if she didn’t care as much about rush as the other girls, getting cut was still going to sting. Maddy also knew that if she wanted to be worthy of becoming a Sigma, then she needed to be more positive. Beacons of excellence didn’t root for failure, they helped others see the bright side of potentially negative situations.
“Don’t worry if they cut you,” she told Imogen. “You’re more into the Beacon anyway, so maybe it’s a good thing. Going Greek’s not for everybody.”
Imogen dipped her pizza crust into a mini-cup of ranch dressing. “That’s what Ben said, too.”
“Ben?” Rachel’s eyes widened. “I was going to ask how orientation went, but from the sound of things it was pretty . . .”
“Incredible. But I had to put my fetus of a crush on ice. Turns out he’s already taken.” Imogen sat back with the pizza box in her lap looking dreamily frustrated, which reminded Maddy that Logan hadn’t called or texted her back after she’d thanked him for the flowers. She’d been checking her phone obsessively between rush parties, and she’d even broken her no social media rule to look at his Instagram for a hint about what he might be up to. But he hadn’t posted since before the bon voyage party, and every hour that went by without hearing from him just brought back all of her confusion. If they were over, then why was he sending her roses? Was he sorry for what had happened or just sorry that he’d hurt her?
And when, exactly, were they going to talk about it?
Other girls were coming into the commons, looking droopy and tired. Eye cream couldn’t hide all the dark circles, and zits were starting to pop out on even the most perfect complexions. Maddy offered the leftover pizza around, but nobody took a piece. And now that invites were on their way, she was starting to regret that she hadn’t passed, too; her stomach did a backflip, threatening to give everyone a second look at pepperoni with extra cheese.
At 10:35, Alex got off the elevator. Her hands were empty.
“Some of the houses were late turning in their next round of invitations,” she explained. “It could be awhile longer, so why don’t you treat yourselves to an early night? I’ll come to everybody’s door and wake you up the second they arrive.”
“That’s just great.” Maddy hoisted herself off the couch. “How are we supposed to sleep with this hanging over our heads?”
She shuffled back to their room with Imogen behind her. Imogen flopped onto her bed in her clothes and closed her eyes.
“Do you mind if I make a few phone calls?” Maddy asked.
“Go ahead,” Imogen said. “I’m so beat I won’t even hea
r you.”
Even though she was exhausted, too, Maddy knew she’d never be able to lie still. She got out her phone and called home. She figured she should at least let her parents know she was still alive, and she knew they’d be up watching the news.
“It’s good to hear your voice,” her mother said. “But it’s so late. Are you taking care of yourself?”
“I’m fine,” Maddy replied. “I’m going to bed in just a minute.”
“Did you get the flowers from Miranda?”
Maddy glanced at the daisies wilting in her garbage can. “I got them. Tell her thanks.”
“Maybe you could tell her yourself. Give her a call one of these evenings. I think she’d like to hear from you.”
Maddy sighed. As usual, the conversation had stalled on her sister. And Maddy had to admit she wanted to hear from her sister, too. She needed someone to talk to about how hard rush was and how conflicted she felt now that she was actually going through it. She yearned to unload to someone who wasn’t going to the same houses every day. Someone with whom she didn’t have to worry about competing.
Except Miranda had chosen to compete for one of the dearest things to Maddy’s heart. Because of that, the person she’d always turned to was the one person with whom she couldn’t let down her guard.
“I don’t know . . .” She picked at a piece of wood that had started to chip off her headboard. “Rush is really busy.”
“Of course,” said her mom. “I’m sure it is. It’s just I worry about you girls. I know you’ve been arguing, but your sister is supposed to be your best friend . . .”
As her mother was talking, another call beeped in. Maddy checked her caller ID and almost dropped the phone.
“Mom, it’s Logan. I’ve got to go. I’ll call again soon, okay?”
She clicked over but didn’t answer right away. Instead, she held her hand over her chest, trying to calm down. “Breathe,” she whispered. “Just relax.”
Finally, she cleared her throat. “Hello?” She hoped it sounded light and confident.
“Hey,” said Logan.
It was the first time she’d heard his voice since that night at the country club. Just a few days ago, that voice made her feel like she could accomplish anything. How weird to be hearing it now and not know what he was thinking. Her mind raced, trying to read anything she could into the way he’d said that one word—anything that might give her a hint where they stood. But all she could get was that he sounded sort of tired.
She put her feet under her comforter; she was suddenly very cold. “Did you get my message? The flowers are gorgeous. Thank you so much.”
“I’m glad you like them. I couldn’t call back earlier ’cause it’s Grunt Week, and the pledges spent the whole day cleaning the chapter-house bathrooms. With our toothbrushes—just like in the movies.”
“You couldn’t even text?” Immediately she wished she hadn’t said it, but she couldn’t help herself. Not knowing what he was up to drove her crazy.
“The actives give you hell if you even stop to pee, which means no phone time. And technically, I’m not supposed to be telling you any of this. What happens at Pi Kapp stays at Pi Kapp.”
“Hazing is illegal,” Maddy reminded him.
“It’s not hazing; it’s building the brotherhood.” He laughed. “How are things there?”
Maddy snuggled into her bed, starting to feel more cozy. He sounded like the Logan she’d always known.
“Good! Invitations are late, so we’re going to bed while we wai—”
She didn’t finish because a girl’s laughter had bubbled up in the background. Maddy rose onto her elbow.
“Who’s that?”
“Peyton,” Logan answered, as if it was no big deal to have a girl in his room at 10:30 at night. “My big sister.”
“You don’t have a sister.”
“My Pi Kapp sister. All the pledges got paired up with sisters from Zeta Omega. They bake us cookies and stuff. Tonight they’re taking us out for pizza. Hey! Stop that!” The line got muffled as Logan laughed along with the girl. Maddy strained to hear what was going on.
“Sorry,” he said when he came back. “She spilled her Diet Coke in my lap.”
“Great,” said Maddy. Any hope she’d had of things being normal again had pretty much gone down the toilet.
“So after pizza we’re supposed to come right back to the house,” Logan said. “Word is it’s going to get hairy in the brotherhood-building department. I wanted to call now in case I don’t get to talk to you again for a while. I wanted to say I’m sorry.”
“But . . . What are you sorry for exactly? I don’t even understand what happened.”
“I don’t think I do, either.”
“Are you with her now? I mean, you and Miranda. Are you together?
“No,” he said. “I still love you, Maddy.”
“You do?”
“Of course. When rush is over and I’m done with Grunt Week things will be better. We can figure it out then. Right now you focus on getting into a great house, and I’ll try to keep the actives from kicking my ass. I’ll call you again soon, when they let me get away. How does that sound?”
“Okay . . .” Maddy didn’t want to let him go, but she had no desire to look desperate—especially not while he had another girl in his room. “Have fun getting pizza.”
“You, too!” Just before he hung up, she could hear the girl laughing again.
Maddy lay back on her pillow. He still loved her. That meant there was hope. And once she became a Sigma he’d see that she was better than Miranda and Peyton and all the other girls who’d stayed in Chesterfield because they were too scared to be away from their high school friends.
Maddy shut her eyes. And maybe she was more tired than she’d thought, because she ended up in the middle of a dream. She and Logan were at his initiation formal. She wore a gorgeous purple dress, and people stood back as the two of them walked through the crowd, Logan leading her to the dance floor.
Instead of putting his arms around her, though, he dropped her hand. “Wait here,” he said. She watched him get swallowed up in the crush of bodies. Then she waited, because that’s what he’d told her to do.
When she finally went looking for him she found him on the other side of the room, slow dancing with a girl who had long, wavy brown hair. She rushed over and grabbed the girl by the shoulder. The girl turned, and Maddy gasped.
It was Imogen.
Maddy opened her eyes to someone knocking on their door. She looked at her alarm clock; it was 1:00 a.m. and the lights were still on in their room. Imogen got out of bed and answered the door. Maddy listened while Alex gave her the invite sheets for the next day’s parties.
“I’ll come around for your acceptances when I’m done handing the rest of these out,” Alex said. “I don’t want to hurry you or anything, but if you could make your decisions quickly, that’d be great.”
Maddy sat up, took her paper, and scanned it. Sigma was there, fourth down. Then, just like the night before, she counted.
Eight.
Maddy squinted at the paper, not believing it. Two more houses had cut her! One of them she’d really liked—enough to think maybe she’d take it all the way to Pref Day. Maddy shook her head, baffled. It was one thing to get cut by a couple of houses on the first day. At that point, they were all going on first impressions. But getting cut in the second round meant that the sisters had gotten to know her better and had decided they didn’t want her.
Across the room, Imogen sat on her bed, looking at her sheet. Maddy couldn’t help asking: “So . . . How’d you do?”
“They all asked me back again.”
Even though it wasn’t cold in the room, Maddy started to shiver. That couldn’t be right; not after Imogen had missed all those parties. “Congratulations,” she said, pulling her comforter up to her chin.
“Thanks.” Imogen stared at her paper. “I thought they would cut me. But they all want me back.”
Maddy wanted to scream. She wanted to rip the paper out of Imogen’s hands and hit her with it. A knock on the door kept her from actually following through.
“That can’t be Alex already,” Imogen moaned. “I need more than five minutes to figure out which of these little boxes to fill in.”
But it wasn’t Alex, it was Rachel. She came into their room and sat cross-legged on Imogen’s bed.
“Look at this.” She held out her invite sheet.
Imogen took the sheet and Maddy came over to look, too. The paper held just three names.
“You got cut by seven houses?” gasped Imogen.
“That can’t be right,” Maddy said. Right away she could see that Rachel had been cut from Sigma. And not just Sigma, but six other sororities as well. Their names were all missing from her invitation sheet.
“I don’t get it.” Rachel’s voice shook as she spoke. “I thought today went great. I sure didn’t think I sucked bad enough to get cut from basically every house on campus.”
“Maybe there’s a mistake,” said Imogen. “Did you talk to Alex about it?”
“Alex actually brought my sheet before everybody else’s so she could break the news. She said this happens sometimes. She said a lot of the time it’s just bad luck.” Rachel turned to Maddy. “You know how this works. Is it possible to get cut from everywhere?”
Maddy thought about it. She had definitely read about things like this—people who ended recruitment week without receiving a bid. The vlogs all tried to be upbeat and frame it like it was all just everything working out for the best, but Maddy couldn’t imagine how a person could have something like that happen and not be devastated.
“It does happen,” she ventured, trying to be respectful of Rachel’s feelings. “But you shouldn’t take it personally. Sometimes the numbers just don’t add up, or —”
“—or whatever. It totally and completely sucks!” Imogen cried. She threw her arms around Rachel’s shoulders. “I hate this! I absolutely hate this. It’s their loss, Rachel. Not yours.”
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