Rush

by Sara Bennett Wealer

  Imogen paused. She didn’t want to think about what Didi would do when she found out. Thank God for her father—if anybody could chill her out, it was him.

  “My mom’ll live.”

  “You really cut them?”

  “Yep.” Imogen closed her laptop. “I even double-checked that I marked the right box.” This got a smile; it gave Imogen hope. “Are we okay now?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Thanks.” Maddy’s smile spread to a full-out grin, which turned into an expression of horror when she got a look at the clock. “Oh no! We’re going to be late!”

  She rushed to unhook her dress from the back of her closet door, and Imogen tried to keep the conversation going while she put it on.

  “So. It’s Pref Day today. Refresh my memory. What are we preffing and why is it such a big deal?”

  “Today you only go to the houses you’re really serious about,” Maddy explained. “You’re supposed to go to your top three—the ones you, you know, pref-er.”

  “And what if they don’t ‘pref-er’ you back?”

  Maddy fumbled with a button. Imogen stood and helped her get it fastened.

  “Then I guess we find out tomorrow,” Maddy said. “You can get a bid from all three, and then you have to pick. Or I guess none of them can ask you, but I don’t even want to think about that. The best is if you end up with a choice.”

  “Well I’m tired of choosing,” said Imogen. She grabbed her purse and turned out the light. “I’m just glad it’s the last day.”

  “Me, too,” said Maddy. Out in the commons, she pushed the elevator button. “So where do you go first?”

  “Zeta Omega. When do you have Sigma?”

  “Third. I guess I’m saving the best for last.”

  Outside, the buses waited to take them to their parties. Imogen put on her sunglasses. “See you on the other side?”

  “Yeah,” said Maddy. “Good luck. And about Sigma . . . thanks. Again.”

  “It’s no problem. I’ll be cool wherever I end up.”

  Maddy gave Imogen a quick hug, then she ran off to catch her bus. Imogen started down the sidewalk, looking for Rachel and wondering if they’d see each other later at Kappa Alpha Beta.

  Halfway to the bus, her phone rang. She checked caller ID, saw it was her mom, and let it go to voice mail. The phone buzzed again. And again. The fourth time, Imogen went to turn it off but then stopped. What if her mom had news about Tippy?

  She opened her mailbox and listened.

  “Imogen Ash, call me immediately!”

  Crap, thought Imogen. Something was wrong. She stepped off the sidewalk, away from the crowd.

  “Mom?” she said when Didi picked up. “Is everything okay?”

  “It most certainly is not,” her mother barked. “Where are you right now?”

  “On my way to a rush party.”

  “And what in the world do you think you’re doing, cutting Sigma Theta Kappa?”

  WTF did she just ask me?!

  Imogen cleared her suddenly dry throat. “How did you know?” The only person she’d told was Maddy!

  “Never mind how I know,” Didi said. “I know, and I am appalled. How could you do something like this?”

  More rushees had come out on the lawn, crowding around the buses. Imogen tried to find some privacy under a tree. “Mom, I can’t pretend to be something I’m not. I tried to like Sigma. I really did. But I don’t belong there.”

  As usual, her mother wasn’t listening.

  “I am so livid with you right now I just don’t know what I might do. Here. Speak with your father.”

  Her dad’s voice came on the line, and the panic inside of Imogen calmed a little. He would talk Didi down and smooth the whole thing over.

  “What’s this about you cutting Sigma, honey?” he asked. “Why would you do something like that?”

  “Dad, I don’t belong there. Maybe I could pledge someplace else, but I’m not a Sigma.”

  “Well, you won’t know that for certain unless you try, will you?”

  “I’m trying right now! That’s what rush is all about. I’ve gone to every house on this campus now, multiple times. You said I didn’t have to pledge Sigma if I didn’t want to.”

  He was quiet, which wasn’t good. Her father only went silent when he was fed up or backed into a corner. “I said give it a chance,” he said. “This isn’t really giving it a chance, now, is it? You were supposed to pledge for a semester and then decide if you wanted to stay.”

  Imogen looked up to see that most of the other girls had gotten on their buses. The recruitment counselor in charge of hers waved impatiently.

  “Well I can’t change it now,” she told her dad. “I already cut Sigma. What am I supposed to do, tell them I changed my mind?”

  “Yes.”

  “What?”

  “Tell them you made a mistake.”

  “I’m not going to do that.”

  More silence. Imogen could just see Didi standing over him, ready to throw an epic fit if things didn’t turn out the way she wanted.

  “Honey,” he said. “I don’t enjoy using money against you, and up to now I’ve never had to. But the truth is that none of us was thrilled when you chose Baldwin over someplace more suitable. I prevailed over your mother on that count. But I don’t think it’s any secret we’d all hoped for better.”

  Oh my God. Imogen stumbled on her kitten heels. Tell me he’s not going to do this. He wouldn’t.

  And then, he did.

  “If you want to stay at this school, I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist that you make a real effort and give Sigma a chance.”

  Imogen felt like her heart had stopped. Like she might fall over and go into some kind of twitching, drooling cardiac arrest with six hundred other rushees watching from their bus windows.

  “Or what?” she said. “What if I don’t go back?”

  “Then I won’t be able to continue supporting you. At least not while you’re at Baldwin.”

  The recruitment counselor next to Imogen’s bus put two fingers in her mouth and whistled but Imogen turned away, trying to get a grip on what was happening.

  “You can’t pull me out of school, Dad!”

  “You’re right I can’t. But I can withdraw my financial support, which would make it difficult for you to stay. College is pricey—even at a school like that.”

  Imogen’s thoughts flashed about, to the Beacon—to Ben and how much she wanted to work with him. She thought about Rachel and Maddy, Tess and the other friends she’d made in the past couple of days. Her father had always supported her—or at least she’d thought he had. But looking back, she realized she’d never really ever done anything that went against what Didi wanted. Sure, she’d complained and bitched, and her dad had always been amused by it, but she’d still gone ahead and done the debutante ball, the charities, the society lunches. In a way, she’d even gone along with freezing out Tippy. Because the truth was that if she’d really wanted to, she could have actually tracked her friend down instead of just stalking her online and waiting for her to call. Coming to Baldwin was the first thing Imogen had ever really done to go against her parents, yet here they were, still trying to be in charge.

  Think, Imogen. Come on. What would Dot do?

  Imogen knew what her friend and journalism mentor would do—she’d start with the facts she had and see if she could find anything there that could lead to a next step. Imogen knew her parents were basically clueless about Baldwin. They hadn’t even come to drop her off that first day. Didi really knew nothing about where her daughter was living and what she was doing.

  Which was why she’d made such a big deal about Imogen pledging Sigma. It was the one thing the two of them could share—a way for her mom to feel like she still had some control.

  Which was why pledging Sigma might just be the one thing that could get Didi off her back. If she did what her mother asked, just this one last time, then she could stay at Baldwin and Didi would be s
atisfied that her daughter was still part of their high-society world. Imogen could do whatever else she wanted, and her mom would never be the wiser.

  But what about Maddy?

  That was the one thing she couldn’t square with herself. As far as Maddy knew, Imogen was finished with Sigma. How would she explain when that turned out not to be true?

  “Imogen?” Her father was waiting for an answer.

  I’ll talk to her¸ Imogen thought. I’ll find a way to explain.

  “Um . . .” she said, stalling for time.

  Maddy’ll understand. She’s just nervous like everybody else. Whether I’m in or out, it shouldn’t affect her chances anyway.

  “Sweetheart?” Her father sounded impatient.

  And if she gets in at Sigma, too, we could be sisters. Everybody’s happy then, right?

  “I’m here, Dad. I’ll call you back in a little bit.” She hung up and ran to find her counselor.

  Breathless, she held up her list with the three parties she’d chosen to attend that day. “I was just looking at this, and I noticed something wrong. Sigma Theta Kappa isn’t on here.”

  Alex took the sheet and studied it. “Did you cut them?” she asked.

  “I don’t think so. I mean, if I did I didn’t mean to. Maybe I filled in the wrong bubble? Those invite sheets are kind of confusing.”

  She waited while Alex thought about the situation.

  “Hmm . . . I’ll have to call Greek Council and see what the policy is on something like this.”

  “I hope you can fix it.” Imogen worked her face into an expression of near-tears concern. “Sigma’s my top house. My mom and grandma were Sigmas. It would really hurt them if I didn’t go back.”

  The extra emotion worked like a charm. “Don’t worry,” Alex said, and squeezed her arm. “I’ll see what I can do. Go to your first party and I’ll find you afterward. I’m sure you can make it to Sigma second or third.”

  “Thank you!” Imogen said. “You don’t know how much that means to me!”

  “Imogen Ash!” called the counselor from the other bus. “If you’re coming with us, then get your butt over here now!”

  Imogen climbed on board just seconds before the bus started moving. Flinging herself into the nearest seat, she realized she still had her phone in her hand. She was about to dial her parents when a text came through.

  BSHERMAN

  Beacon party tonite. We on?

  Ben. Hearing from him made the events of that morning more bearable. She still had the Beacon. And after all that had happened, a party for the paper was exactly what she needed.

  Her fingers shook as she wrote back, Yes.

  God, yes. Tonight can’t get here fast enough.

  THIRTY-ONE

  Maddy got off her bus and marched up the sidewalk, straight to the red front door of the Sigma house, feeling better than she had in days. A couple of other rushees were hanging out on the steps in miniskirts with their three-inch heels kicked off. Maddy cast an approving glance at her own classic ballet flats, adjusted the cardigan over her tasteful berry-colored dress, and walked past them to plant herself at the front of the line. Part of her worried that the other girls would think she was pushy. A bigger part didn’t give a crap. She’d told Miranda she’d be pledging Sigma, and now her chances of getting in had just improved; with Imogen out of the running it left space for at least one more nonlegacy.

  That space? Was going to be hers.

  At 2:00 p.m. sharp, the front door opened and Delia Danforth came out wearing a simple white dress with a wreath of stars in her hair. Inside the foyer Maddy could see the other sisters, each one also in white, and each holding a lighted candle. They were humming a song that sounded familiar but that Maddy couldn’t place. When she got inside, however, and saw swirling shapes projected on the ceiling like dreamy pinwheels, it all made sense.

  Van Gogh. Starry Night.

  The other two houses Maddy had visited had had some version of a white-dress ceremony, too, but nothing she’d seen had come close to being this gorgeous. The Sigmas seemed to capture everything she’d ever believed in about sisterhood and service, wrapping it up in a pure and achingly beautiful package.

  Slowly the rushees filed into the foyer, where sunlight from the open door mixed with the dark inside to create a hazy in between. Maddy shook hands with Delia, then turned to see a girl she’d never met before stepping forward to greet her. Maddy had just reached out to take the new girl’s hand when the screeching of brakes broke through the sound of the sisters’ singing. The rushees turned, craning over each other to see a bus pulling up late. It lurched to the curb and girls started to scramble off. Maddy turned, too, and blanched.

  There was her roommate, running up the sidewalk to join the others.

  THIRTY-TWO

  Trapped at her post in front of fifty singing girls, Cass watched as Madeleine Christopher froze in the Sigma house foyer, staring out the front door like a squirrel about to become roadkill. Cass willed her to snap out of it and smile. Because if Miss Christopher couldn’t manage a little more poise and confidence, especially this late in the week, then nothing Cass did behind the scenes could possibly help her.

  Cass had set Isla Drew up as Madeleine’s hostess, and she felt some relief once Isla took her into the living room. Still, Cass wouldn’t feel completely better until she’d had a chance to check on Maddy herself.

  When all of the rushees had been herded indoors, including—incredibly—Imogen Ash, who’d hurried in with the latecomers, the remaining sisters started crushing into the living room. Cass waded through the sea of white dresses but it was too late. When she reached the front of the crowd she found the rushees already in a ring facing one another, surrounded by the other sisters, who stood behind them in a wider circle with their candles flickering.

  Christa Sinden nudged Cass in the ribs. “We’re waiting on you,” she whispered. “Aren’t you the music leader?”

  As much as Cass hated it, Christa was right; they had a song to sing. She started the first line of Catch a Falling Star.

  Right on cue, one of the rushees started to weep, followed by two others. As the rest of the sisters joined in, more rushees started to cry, their faces glistening in the candlelight. Cass remembered standing where they stood—how loved and wanted and special she’d felt. On Pref Day, it seemed as though every girl in the sorority knew and cared about you. You went back to your dorm praying they wanted you as badly as you wanted them, and not being able to fathom that they wouldn’t. You believed all the best things about friendship and unity, you believed in something bigger than yourself, and you believed you could be a part of it, too.

  For Cass and her pledge class, those beliefs had been trampled by another set of ideals: power above compassion, perfection above individuality, status above all. Sisterhood meant something entirely different to the older girls, but Cass had had no way of knowing until it was too late.

  The song ended with each sister tapping the rushee in front of her on the shoulder. The rushees turned, and each was given a little glow-in-the-dark star to hold as the ceremony ended with a poem:

  Star light, star bright, the first star I see tonight;

  I wish I may, I wish I might, join the sisterhood tonight.

  Next, each hostess took her rushee aside for quiet conversation. It was a solemn, intimate opportunity; the rushees could ask more in-depth questions, and the sisters could answer as long as they steered clear of chapter secrets. Cass rushed over to Madeleine Christopher, past more than a dozen wet-eyed rushees. And she would have understood if Maddy had been wet-eyed, too, but when she got closer she saw that the girl had almost totally lost it.

  “Are you okay?” said Cass.

  Maddy broke into sobs so wrenching that sisters and rushees alike turned to see where the commotion was coming from.

  “Uh-oh,” said Cass. “Come with me.”

  Moving fast and discreetly, she whisked the girl through the foyer and into the powder
room. The tissue box that usually sat on the vanity wasn’t there; someone had taken it for the ceremony, so Cass handed over a wad of toilet paper instead.

  “I’m sorry,” Maddy gasped into the paper. “It’s just that it’s so . . . so . . .”

  “I know,” said Cass, patting her on the shoulder.

  “So . . . stressful!”

  “I know.”

  “And now I’ve ruined everything.”

  “No, you haven’t. You’re fine.”

  “No, I’m not. I’m making a terrible impression.”

  “Look at me.” Cass waited until Maddy lifted her head, then she met her gaze and tried to hold it steady. “You’re fine. Okay?”

  “Okay.” Madeleine nodded. She took a deep breath, looking determined to pull herself together.

  “Can I help in any way?” Cass asked. “Is there something you want to talk about?”

  “It’s just . . .” Maddy wadded the damp toilet paper in her fist. “It was so beautiful out there with the singing and the stars. And I know I’m not supposed to tell you how much I love this house, because you guys aren’t supposed to discuss that kind of thing with us. But going through all of this—this whole week—has been really hard for me. It’s harder than I’d thought. And then there’s my friend . . . well, I thought she was my friend. She . . .”

  Before Maddy could go on, Cass took the hand that wasn’t clutching a hunk of tissue and said what was on her mind—just said it without thinking, because even though she’d never spoken with this girl until today, even though this girl had no idea what Cass had been trying to do for her behind the scenes, she still felt a special protectiveness toward Madeleine Christopher. She deserved to hear some honest, friendly advice.

  “If it’s stressing you out this much, then maybe you should take a look at that. Maybe it’s a sign.”

  “What?” Maddy blinked through her tears.

  “Maybe it’s a sign you’d be happier somewhere else.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Just that if being here is making you this upset, then maybe there’s a chance this isn’t the right place for you. Maybe another house is a better fit. That’s all.”