Rush

by Sara Bennett Wealer

  “Thank you!” she said, leaning over for a kiss that was supposed to be on the cheek but landed on the soft, full lips she’d always told herself she could never have. A shot of heat raced through her body. She pulled away, aware she was probably blushing from her toes to the roots of her hair.

  She took a step backward.

  “Wait a minute,” said Leo. He reached for her hand, pulling her back.

  This time there was no mistake—he meant it on the lips. And not just a quick peck, but a long, slow, delicious kiss. Cass had to force herself to pull away because it was as amazing as she’d always imagined it would be, and she knew that if she let herself stay there she’d never leave.

  “I’m thinking we should have done that a long time ago,” Leo said.

  Cass shoved him lightly, trying for a joke.

  “You say that to all the girls.”

  “No, I’m saying it to you. When you’re done saving the world, get back here, okay? We have a lot of catching up to do.”

  She nodded, stepping out of his arms and into the crowd. “You’re amazing!” Leo shouted as she pushed to the front door. Cass smiled as she made her way past Jack the bouncer and the line of people milling around outside. Once on the sidewalk, she tucked the phone inside her purse and started running to the Sigma house.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  Is this just a coworker party? Because it feels like it could be a lot more.

  Imogen had been asking herself this question all night—this, and its close relative, So does Ben really have a girlfriend anymore? As the hours went by it looked more and more like the answer to that second question might be no. He hung around while she drank beer with Kathryn. He hung around while she beat Yusef at Mario Kart. And he hung out while she did a karaoke-style version of “Dirty Laundry” with the sports staff. Not once did he mention Delia Danforth or anything even remotely related to having a significant other of any kind. Imogen couldn’t think of a good way to ask. So she’d stayed quiet and simply wondered when Ben did things like sit extra close or rush to fill her cup before she’d even emptied it.

  “You’re pretty incredible,” he said after she’d won a particularly raunchy round of Cards Against Humanity. “You know that, don’t you?”

  She couldn’t bring herself to come up with some cutesy answer.

  “I’m not sure how to take that,” she told him.

  “Take it however you want.” He looked at her in a way that said he wasn’t flirting at all, which made her nervous. She’d had too much beer, it was late, and she knew she shouldn’t be getting into anything she might regret later.

  “I need to get back to the dorm. I’m supposed to be on lockdown.”

  “I’ll walk you.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Of course I do,” he said. “Believe it or not, strangers do snatch pretty girls off the streets of midwestern college towns.”

  “But I’m wondering if I should be concerned about the present company.”

  He put his beer on the mantel, put a hand to her back, and started guiding her toward the door.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll be a complete gentleman.”

  They walked together down the front steps, past couples smoking and making out, to the sidewalk. “So I’m willing to bet you haven’t been to many parties like that,” he said as they turned toward campus. From back inside the house they heard a crash, followed by drunken laughter. He winced. “And you’re probably thinking that’s a good thing.”

  “I liked it,” said Imogen. “Really.”

  “Not all our parties are as crazy as tonight. I mean, we are capable of being civilized. Just maybe not as civilized as you’re used to, considering where you come from—”

  “Okay,” Imogen interrupted. “Rule number one for walking me home: Stop talking like I’m a Park Avenue princess. I can go to a keg party without tarnishing my tiara, and in case you didn’t notice, I left my Louboutins at home.”

  “Touché,” he said. “I guess I’m just still trying to figure you out.”

  “What’s there to figure?”

  “Well for one thing, you’re at Baldwin instead of someplace like—”

  “You’re at the corner of Seventy-Fifth and Madison. Park Avenue Princessland is due east—just a warning.”

  “Okay, okay!” he said. “You and Baldwin? You’re like peanut butter and jelly. Milk and cereal. But the whole Greek thing and the Beacon . . .”

  “You’re Greek and you do both.”

  “It’s just that two days ago I would have pegged you for dropping out of rush. But here it is almost Bid Day and you’re still in it.”

  She reached up to a branch that hung over the sidewalk and pulled off a leaf as they walked. “I guess I spoke too soon when I put the whole thing down.”

  “So you’re excited about bids tomorrow? All that ‘death sentence’ stuff was just a joke?”

  “No . . .” Imogen said. “I was serious about that.”

  To get back to the dorms they had to walk down part of Fraternity Row, where the houses were lit with spotlights that made the windows look like eyes. Imogen read the letters above the doors as they passed.

  “Omega Tau Epsilon,” she said when they reached a house that looked like an old English manor. “Isn’t that you?”

  “Yep,” said Ben. “That’s home.”

  And next door—her heart sank.

  Sigma.

  “Do you want to know a secret?” she asked.

  “Sure,” he replied.

  “I did find a couple of houses I like, but they’re not where I’m going to end up.” She pointed. “I’m supposed to pledge this one. My mom was a Sigma. So was my grandmother and my great-grandmother.”

  Ben gazed at the big white house with its pillars and red front door. “Ah, the Sigmas. I know them well.”

  Imogen waited for him to complete that thought—to tell her about Delia. Even if they’d broken up, he owed her the truth. And not because she’d been investigating him. She wanted to hear him say it, unprompted.

  He stopped walking and faced her. “Take your family out of this for a minute. If it wasn’t for your mom and the others, would you really want to be a Sigma?”

  “No,” she said. Telling the truth felt good. “But I don’t really have a choice.”

  He was standing so close she could almost feel his breath. He wanted to kiss her; she was positive he did. And, as if to confirm it, he reached out and took her hand. She let her eyes drift shut . . .

  “Ben!”

  The shout came from above—a girl’s voice floating down through the branches.

  Imogen stepped back, searching over her shoulder just as a second girl came bolting up the sidewalk, waving her arms.

  “Delia!” the other girl shouted. “Wait!”

  The girl was shouting at the Sigma house—at something up high. Imogen and Ben followed her gaze, up past the pillared porch, and there, standing in a third-story window, was Delia Danforth.

  THIRTY-NINE

  Cass’s first thought when she looked up at the window was that the stories were true—Sigma really was haunted, and there was the proof: a girl in the window looking down at the street below. But then it hit her that this girl had short dark hair instead of the long strawberry-blond curls of Marianne McCourt.

  “Delia!” Cass shouted. “What are you doing?”

  Two seconds later she knew exactly what Delia was doing because she’d nearly collided with Delia’s boyfriend, Ben, who was standing on the sidewalk in suspiciously close proximity to none other than Delia’s star rushee.

  Ben looked up and saw Delia, too. He let go of Imogen and started toward the house. Delia turned and disappeared from the window.

  Cass changed course and ran up to Ben.

  “What the hell is this?” she said. “And why are you two here of all places?”

  Seconds later, the door of the Sigma house flew open and Delia ran out, down the porch steps and onto
the lawn.

  “Dee . . .” said Ben, but Delia didn’t answer. Instead, she pushed past him and stopped in front of Imogen.

  “Imogen Ash?” said Delia, her gray eyes wide. “Is that you?”

  FORTY

  Imogen didn’t need Maddy or a recruitment rule book to tell her this wasn’t good. Nearly every day for the past four days she’d shaken hands with this girl and had been greeted by a confident smile. Now Delia stood before her, almost like a ghost in the moonlight, peering at her with wild, questioning eyes.

  “Dee . . .” Ben put a hand on Delia’s arm, reaching over Imogen to do so. Imogen brought her own arm up and swatted his shoulder out of her face.

  “Are you serious?” she said.

  Ben kept his eyes on Delia.

  “I’m sorry . . .” he said. “Imogen works with me. And things haven’t been good with us for a while, Dee. You know that.”

  “Excuse me?” Imogen broke in. “All due respect and everything, but quit talking about me like I’m not standing right here.”

  Ben continued to ignore her as he moved toward the stunned-looking Delia. “Maybe if we took a break for a while . . .”

  Okay, this is going exactly nowhere—not to mention it’s completely humiliating.

  Imogen pulled the long waves of her hair back with her fist. “You know what? Last I checked, I hadn’t developed the power to disappear. Nope, not transparent. Still standing right here.”

  Ben turned, exasperated. “Imogen . . .” Hearing him speak her name like that made her realize how stupid she’d been to get caught up in some fantasy. She’d been acting like a love-struck idiot and now this was the consequence.

  “Hey, Delia,” said the other girl. “Let’s go inside . . .”

  The girl moved forward and got between Delia and Ben. She had masses of curly hair and a curvy figure, and in the streetlight Imogen recognized her as one of the sisters who’d interviewed her on the very first day of rush. “This isn’t the best place to be having this conversation,” the girl said to Delia, then pinned Imogen with another evil eye. “And some people shouldn’t even be outside right now.”

  A weird silence took over, like they were all waiting for someone else to make a move. Imogen knew she should be the one to leave. Maybe if she went quietly no one would tell anyone she’d been out. She could pretend none of this had happened.

  Except when you pledge Sigma, then you get the super-awkward distinction of being the First Year who moved in on the president’s boyfriend.

  Finally, Delia broke the silence.

  “Go,” she said to Ben.

  “What? Dee . . . Can we at least talk about this?”

  “Just leave.”

  He searched Delia’s face, then he looked back at Imogen, who studied her shoes. She was too embarrassed and pissed off. She couldn’t look him in the eye.

  “Fine,” said Ben. “I guess I’ll see you around.”

  He stalked away, across the lawn to the OTE house, leaving Delia and Imogen face-to-face on the sidewalk.

  Super awkward doesn’t even begin to describe this.

  The other girl took Delia’s shoulder. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go in before anything else happens.”

  And that’s when they saw it: another silhouette coming around the corner.

  FORTY-ONE

  As soon as she saw the Sigma house, Maddy knew she’d been right all along. There they stood, together on the sorority lawn: Imogen, one of the Sigma sisters, and Delia Danforth, the house president.

  She couldn’t believe how blatant they were.

  “I knew it!” she shouted. “I knew this was where you were going.”

  “Maddy,” said Imogen. “Listen, I know what this looks like . . .”

  “Shut up!” said Maddy. “Just shut up. You don’t know anything.” She turned to Delia, out of breath but triumphant. Nobody could tell her she wasn’t seeing what was right in front of her nose. “Is this what you do with the girls you really want? Everybody else gets locked in at the dorms while the special ones get to come and hang out?”

  Delia opened her mouth but no words came out. She looked more than a little freaked out. Well, Maddy would give her something to really freak out about.

  “I’m going to report you,” she said. “I’m reporting all of you.”

  “Maddy . . .” Imogen reached for her arm.

  “No!” Maddy dodged so she couldn’t be touched. “You get everything, even if you don’t deserve it, Imogen. But that’s why there are rules, so people like me at least have a chance against people like you.”

  “This isn’t about recruitment,” Delia said. “It isn’t about you.”

  “You’re right,” said Maddy. “It’s about all the girls who never get a chance because you’re giving other people special treatment. Well this is dirty rushing, and I’m going to report it.”

  The whole time she’d been talking, the third girl had been standing to the side, half-hidden in the shadow of a tree. Now she moved into the streetlight.

  “Come on, Maddy,” said the girl. “I know you’re upset, but at least sleep on it before you do something we’re all going to regret.”

  Maddy squinted into the girl’s face and a fresh wave of anger hit. It was the sister from the party that afternoon. The one who’d basically told her she didn’t have a chance at Sigma.

  “I’m going to Greek Council,” Maddy repeated, backing away. “You’re not getting away with this.”

  Before anybody could say anything to make her doubt herself again, she turned and ran. She could hear Imogen calling her name, but that just made her run faster.

  FORTY-TWO

  Cass watched Madeleine Christopher disappear into the night with Imogen Ash on her heels. She brought her hands to her shoulders, rubbing her arms against a chill that had crept into the air. Her head hurt and her skin felt like hundreds of little pins were pricking through her clothes. She felt like she was in shock. Delia almost certainly was; she stood next to Cass looking dazed.

  “Delia,” said Cass. “Let’s go inside now.”

  She quickly texted Leo that she would see him in the morning, then she led Delia up the walk to the front porch. As their feet touched the first step she heard the skittering of pebbles on the roof. They both stopped and turned to the stars, which looked like glittering dust on black velvet. One big star arced across the sky, burning brilliantly for a minute before disappearing. Cass wondered: Was it falling or just making its way to a better place?

  Whichever it was, she made a wish.

  Day 5

  Morning

  FORTY-THREE

  Madeleine Christopher made good on her promise. At 6:00 a.m., four hours before bids were due to go out, Cass got a call ordering her to be at the Greek Council offices by 7:00. She arrived to find a creepily silent receptionist waiting for her in a creepily silent foyer that looked more like the entrance to a church than an office. The woman opened a heavy bronze door to reveal a room with a long table, at the head of which sat the council president, a severe-looking fourth year named Monica, and the campus Greek Affairs adviser, who introduced herself as Elizabeth Andrews. Delia was seated at the table, too, along with Sophia Kensington.

  Elizabeth invited Cass to have a seat.

  “You had contact with two rushees last night?” she asked.

  “Not by choice.” Cass glanced at Delia, who stared back, one hand playing with the lavaliere around her neck. “I don’t know what anybody told you, but those girls were already out—God knows why. I was on my way home from helping my friend at his dad’s bar and I just ran into them. The whole thing was a misunderstanding.”

  “That’s exactly what it was,” piped up Sophia. She beamed across the table as if Cass were suddenly her favorite person in the world. “Delia explained it all to me. I’ve already explained it to all of you. It was nothing more than a miscommunication.”

  “Still, these are serious allegations,” Monica said. She turned to Delia. “Yo
u were supposed to have no contact whatsoever with any of the rushees. We’re already dealing with one dirty rushing incident . . .”

  “Dirty rushing!?” Now Sophia looked outraged. “I can’t believe you’d imply something like that in relation to Sigma Theta Kappa. Especially not this year. No one has been more conscientious about the rules than Delia.” Sophia placed a protective hand on Delia’s arm. “Dirty rushing. How ridiculous. What happened last night was a chance encounter with two girls who should not have been out of the dormitory. Nothing more.”

  Monica and Elizabeth nodded. They seemed almost willing to accept this, but then Monica hesitated.

  “Why were the rushees out, though? That’s what I don’t understand. They were supposed to be on lockdown. I know Miss Christopher said she left because she suspected Miss Ash of sneaking out to meet with the Sigmas. But if that wasn’t the case, then why was Miss Ash out? Did anybody ask her that?”

  “I’m sure she had a good reason.” Sophia seemed to have designated herself the official Sigma spokesperson, since Delia still wore the stunned look she’d had when Cass had left her at the door to the president’s suite the night before. “There’s no need to blow this any more out of proportion than it already has been.”

  As much as she hated Sophia, Cass had to agree on that point. It was pretty clear to her that Imogen’s motives for being out of the dorm had more to do with Ben Sherman than they ever did with rush.

  Madeleine Christopher, however, had certainly seemed to think otherwise. And why shouldn’t she? Something was going on, although it had nothing to do with Imogen Ash.

  Cass slid her hand into her purse. She’d planned to turn in the iPhone first thing that morning anyway. And now, all the key players were there. She pulled out the phone and cleared her throat. “Delia wasn’t dirty rushing last night. But I can tell you who was.”

  All heads turned as Cass handed the phone to Monica. Elizabeth got up and looked over Monica’s shoulder as Monica scrolled through the text messages. Every now and then, one of them would gasp.