“Are you kidding me?” Eve said. “You’re so precious, you’ve got a four-point-oh, you’re on the tennis team, and you’re my roommate!”
“Just being associated with you is powerful enough to get me in?” joked Daniella, though really, she was hoping Eve was right.
“I don’t mean that, of course. I just mean that given my family’s history, it’s pretty likely I’ll get a bid, and everyone knows you’re my best friend, so of course we’ll be seen as a matched set.”
“Like salt and pepper shakers,” joked Daniella.
“Sterling salt and pepper shakers, dahling,” joked Eve. “Only the best.”
• • •
Each day of rush, the girls would gather first in the Blue Room, a formal parlor in the Admissions Building, which was rumored to have a bullet hole in the wall marking the long-ago suicide of a Belmont girl that was now covered up by a portrait of Dr. William March, the college’s founder. The Blue Room was where the Rush Counselors would hand the girls their daily envelopes. On the very first day the envelopes simply contained a list showing the order in which the potential pledges (referred to by the sorority members as “pee-pees”) were to visit the houses, since every pee-pee visited every house during the first round. After that, cuts were made, the very most after that first round as a way to encourage those girls who weren’t really “sorority material” to drop out of rush altogether before becoming too invested.
The parties were orchestrated as precisely as a military campaign: the first an afternoon tea, the second skits, and the third Song Night, the only party held after dinner, when everyone wore a formal dress and the sorority members courted the pee-pees with candlelight, dessert, and songs of sisterhood. After Song Night concluded, the pee-pees, still in formal dress, would gather once again in the Blue Room to list the sororities in order of their first and second choice. The Rush Counselors urged the girls not to worry: As long as they were invited back to at least one of the three houses for Song Night, they would get a bid. That was a rule of the college. Indeed, many girls only got asked back to one house on the final night—usually Carnation—and so they had to decide right then and there if they wanted to join that house or if they wanted to drop out of rush altogether.
Very, very rarely, a girl wouldn’t be asked back to any house for Song Night at all. It was rumored that that was why the young woman had killed herself so long ago in the Blue Room: She had received an empty envelope after the second round. But the Rush Counselors assured the girls that such an outcome was extremely unlikely; everyone just needed to trust the system and not think about which sorority was “popular,” but rather which was a good fit. Everyone cries at least once during rush, they said, but ultimately, the system works.
• • •
Daniella and Eve chose each other’s outfits for the first party, the afternoon tea, both wearing knee-length skirts embellished with one crinoline apiece, and a cashmere twin sweater set, Daniella’s baby blue, Eve’s pink. Eve, who as a double legacy could afford to be a little cavalier, wore a pair of saddle oxfords, while Daniella wore flats. They set their hair in rollers the night before, which meant Eve’s flat hair curled up at the ends while Daniella’s waves were tamed straight.
There was a nervous sense of anticipation as the girls gathered in the Blue Room to learn the order in which they would visit the houses. Eve and Daniella were scheduled to visit each house at different times, which was probably good, because Eve would likely try to crack Daniella up while she was making small talk with a sorority member. The three houses sat next to each other, up a little hill behind the library. They were all brick, all Colonial in style, and for rush the exterior of each was decorated with an archway of balloons and a big welcoming banner. Fleur’s archway was made of light pink and white balloons, the Fleur colors, and its banner featured a painted straw basket filled with flowers in an array of pinks, reds, and whites, each petal created by a scrunched-up piece of colored tissue paper held in place with glue.
The interior of the Fleur house was a study in good taste, all Oriental rugs and fine antique furniture gleaming with polish—the entirety of Belmont was redolent of citrus polish—save for the very modern Eames chair in the living room. Most of the girls in Fleur came from money, and nearly every member was some sort of campus leader: the student body president, the head of the Junior Achievement Society, Miss Illahee, which was Belmont’s version of a beauty queen, although she couldn’t only be beautiful but also had to have breeding and brains. Daniella was greeted by an attractive brunette named Lauren, who, after learning that Daniella had grown up in D.C., asked if she had ever met JFK. Daniella was pretty sure they weren’t supposed to talk politics, but who didn’t love the young, handsome president? And so she told Lauren about how her mother had poured herself into volunteering for the Kennedy campaign and how he had once stopped by the campaign office and shaken her hand. Lauren gave out a little yelp and said that her mother had volunteered for Kennedy, too, but golly, had never gotten to meet him!
Daniella’s conversations at Pansy and Carnation were dull in comparison. She told the girls that she lived in Monty House, that her dad was a professor, that yes, the weather was gorgeous, and that she most certainly was looking forward to Illahee Day, that much-anticipated but unknown day in spring when all of the girls would be surprised by a bugle call in the morning, announcing that classes were canceled so everyone could go and climb Mount Illahee.
At Carnation, Rachel Tennenbaum asked if she had attended any services in Roanoke. Daniella said that she didn’t realize there was a Unitarian church in town, and Rachel had answered that she meant the Reform synagogue.
The girls were encouraged to dress informally for the next round of parties—Daniella and Eve were both invited back to all three houses—so they each wore capri pants paired with a popover top, Eve’s pastel plaid and Daniella’s turquoise blue. Lauren, the girl Daniella had chatted with about Kennedy at the Fleur tea, played Dorothy in the sorority’s Wizard of Oz sketch. “There’s no place like Fleur; there’s no place like Fleur!” she chanted, while clicking the heels of her ruby slippers. Later she winked at Daniella from across the room while Daniella spoke with a perfectly nice if slightly ditzy girl named Bev, who had been two grades above Eve at their private school in Atlanta and had an obvious crush on Eve’s older brother, Charlie. “He’s just so all-American!” Bev gushed.
After skit day the girls who had been invited back to all three houses had to eliminate one of them to get the choice down to two for Song Night. Eve and Daniella both dropped Carnation, keeping Pansy and Fleur, but agreeing that Fleur was the only one worth joining.
When they returned to Monty House, Eve stopped at the shared phone in the hallway in order to call her grandmother in Atlanta, who had insisted that she check in with her after each rush event. A few minutes later Eve returned to their room, flopped down on her bed, and sighed. “Grandmommy pretends to want to hear all of the ‘fun’ details about the parties, but she’s really just making sure I pledge Fleur. It’s like she thinks I’m going to pledge Pansy to rebel or something.”
“Would you pledge Pansy? If you didn’t get a bid from Fleur?” asked Daniella.
“I guess, but I don’t think that’s going to be an issue.”
“Not for you, obviously, but I could get cut.”
“You keep saying that, but you’re going to be fine, really. I mean, look at you—you’re so pretty and wonderful. You’re a shoo-in.”
• • •
The next morning Daniella was awoken by a noise, but she was in such a deep slumber that it took her a moment to realize the noise she was hearing was someone knocking on the dorm room door. Eve remained asleep. Daniella opened the door in her nightgown, trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to disturb Eve. There stood an ashen Mrs. Shuler beside Daniella’s Rush Counselor, Peggy.
Peggy looked as if she were attending a funeral. Daniella felt as if her knees might buckle.
They had been told that if anything “unfortunate” occurred during rush, your counselor would come to you, so you wouldn’t have to show up in the Blue Room with all of the other girls only to leave in humiliation when you were handed an empty envelope. And here was Peggy. Surely she had not come to see Eve.
“Would you come talk with me downstairs, please?” asked Peggy.
“Let me get a robe,” said Daniella, her voice sounding far away even to herself.
She went to her closet and grabbed the pink fuzzy robe her mother had given to her as a going-away present before she left for Belmont. She knotted it tightly around her waist and followed Peggy and Mrs. Shuler down the stairs and into the little den off the parlor where Daniella sometimes studied. The den had wood-paneled walls and elk horns mounted over the fireplace.
Peggy sat beside Daniella on the couch. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this,” she said. “But you have been released from Pansy and Fleur.”
Even though Daniella knew Peggy’s arrival could only mean news of this sort, her words didn’t make any sense. Released from both? But Lauren had winked at her during the Wizard of Oz skit!
“I’m so sorry, Daniella; I really am. Sometimes there are quirks that just don’t make any sense.”
“Oh my God,” said Daniella, flush with humiliation. Neither house had asked her back for Song Night. Neither house wanted her. Should she have jettisoned Pansy and kept Carnation instead, since Carnation was known to be the least choosy? But she hadn’t made a connection with anyone there, had found the girls awkward and difficult to talk to. And Lauren from Fleur had winked at her. Wasn’t that a sort of promise? Did that not count for anything?
“I was blackballed?” she asked.
“I really don’t know what happened. It’s just an unfortunate, awful thing. But think about this—you have the tennis team, which will be starting up soon, and there are plenty of other organizations you may join—the literary society, the drama club, the Illahee Climbers. There are so many ways, with or without a Greek affiliation, to be a well-rounded Monty.”
Mrs. Shuler, who had remained quiet up until that point, finally spoke. “Daniella, dear, when I was a student at the Madeira School I was taught a very wise mantra: ‘Function in chaos, finish in style.’ It is your choice to function during this chaotic moment, and I imagine that if you do, you will most certainly finish in style.”
Daniella didn’t know what to say. Everyone in Monty House would know she had not been asked back to Song Night. And surely everyone on campus would soon know, too. Yes, there were plenty of Belmont girls who didn’t go through rush, for either financial or personal reasons, but it was different to have tried to join and been blackballed. Daniella couldn’t exactly claim indifference the way those other girls could. Would anyone believe her if she said she had dropped out of rush to focus more on her studies? No. It was a small campus and the girls at Fleur and Pansy knew what happened. Should she transfer dorms, maybe to Hanker House, which was known to be a little bohemian and contained the fewest members of the Greek system? Should she transfer colleges altogether? Would Eve still want to be friends with her, Eve who would surely receive a bid to Fleur and leave Daniella behind, their friendship only a brief distraction before she met her real sisters?
“So I just don’t show up in the Blue Room today?”
“That’s right,” said Peggy. “Don’t come to the Blue Room. Do something nice for yourself instead. Take a long, hot shower; get yourself an ice cream.”
“Because that will make things all better,” Daniella said, unable to stop herself.
“I think you will find that sarcasm will not help your situation,” said Mrs. Shuler, to which Daniella wanted to scream, I’m functioning, you bitch! I’m functioning in chaos.
“Okay, thanks. Thanks for telling me,” Daniella mumbled, and she rose from the couch and walked in a haze of tears back to her room, where she found Eve still asleep, her long blond hair fanning out around her head on the pillow. Sitting on the edge of her friend’s bed, she shook her shoulder.
“What is it?” Eve asked, her voice kind and concerned even in her half-awake state.
“I have to tell you something. Something bad.”
With a snap Eve was sitting up in her bed, alert. “What? What happened?”
“I’m not going to be a Fleur. I’m not going to be in any sorority.” As soon as she spoke the words aloud she started to cry, staccato little sobs that sounded like hiccups.
“What are you talking about?”
“Peggy came to tell me this morning. I’m not invited back to Song Night. No one wants me.”
“But it doesn’t make any sense. You’re perfect for Fleur. You are a Fleur!”
“It’s because my father is Jewish,” said Daniella, and as soon as the words left her mouth she realized they were true. That was why Mrs. Shuler told her to “think about Carnation.” That was why Rachel Tennenbaum was asking her about Reform services in Roanoke. Everyone at Belmont thought of her as Jewish whether she called herself Unitarian or not, and Carnation was clearly the only sorority that accepted Jews.
“That’s absurd,” said Eve.
“Why then?”
“I don’t know. It doesn’t make any sense. I know a couple of the older girls in Fleur from Coventry. Maybe I could ask one of them what happened.”
“You know you’re not allowed to make contact with anyone in the houses until after bids are given. Besides, you don’t need to ask. I know. It’s so clear to me now.”
“I refuse to believe that’s the reason. It’s just too ludicrous for words. I mean, isn’t the whole motto of Fleur that it takes every type of flower to make a beautiful bouquet?”
“Yeah, a Methodist flower, and a Presbyterian flower, and an Episcopal flower . . .”
“I mean, maybe some girl in Fleur had it in for you, was jealous or something, and insisted they cut you, but that doesn’t really make any sense. I mean, if that were the case, why not drop you after the first round? And it’s not like you’re going out with anyone’s ex-boyfriend or anything.”
“It happened with both sororities, Eve.”
“Wait! I just thought of something. How many letters of recommendation did you have?”
“I didn’t have any, remember? They’re local sororities; you told me they weren’t necessary.”
“That’s got to be it! I must have been wrong. I mean, I had three letters for each one! And I don’t even want to be in Carnation or Pansy. But my grandmother insisted on it, so maybe recs were more important than I realized. It must have been a stupid technicality. We just need to get you some recs, and then you can go through rush again next year. Or maybe even get a snap bid before then.”
“I really don’t think it was a matter of recs,” said Daniella, even though a small, dumb part of herself was hoping that Eve was right, that there was some mundane reason why she had been cut; some small mistake that, once rectified, could reopen the door to Eve’s world.
Eve went to Song Night without Daniella and, of course, was offered a bid to Fleur the next day. That night a woven basket was placed in front of their door, filled with twenty-four intricately constructed paper flowers, each one personalized with the name of a girl in the Fleur pledge class. Up and down the hall, girls had their own straw baskets of flowers—or paper cutouts of pansies or carnations—decorating their doorways, all but Natalie, the only girl in Monty House who had not gone through rush at all. Chapter meetings were every Monday and so it would just be Natalie and Daniella left in the dorm while everyone else toddled off to their sorority.
Eve told Daniella that as soon as she got to know a few more of the older girls, she was going to find out what had happened, find out what Daniella needed to do to get in. Daniella appreciated Eve’s loyalty, but she also knew that her friend might let things slip as the semester rolled on. Eve had sisters now, a whole pledge class to befriend; what did she care about a girl who was cut before Song Night?
But
true to her word, if Eve was eating lunch with a group from Fleur or walking through campus with one of them, she would always wave Daniella over, throw an arm around her, introduce her all around. The older members of Fleur were nice to Daniella, though it was awkward talking to them knowing that they knew she had been cut—that they had cut her. Worse was running into Lauren, the JFK fan who had winked at her while performing her skit. Whenever Daniella would pass her on campus, Daniella would look away, as if she didn’t see her, but one day she happened to be walking alone to the library when Lauren sidled up next to her, matching her stride.
“Look, can we talk?” Lauren asked.
“Sure,” said Daniella, but she kept walking at the same pace, worried that if she were to stop and turn to face Lauren she would burst into tears.
Lauren reached over and put her hand on Daniella’s arm. “Can you just stop for a minute? Sit down?”
There was a bench nearby. Lauren dusted off the seat before they sat.
“I’m so sorry about what happened. I’m not supposed to say anything, but I need you to know that we wanted you. We all wanted you. It’s just, there’s this group of alums that kind of controls things, and they said ‘no.’ They said we could only have twenty-four pledges tops, that if we had more than that the sorority would lose some of its exclusivity, and that everyone we offered a bid to . . . everyone had to have letters of recommendation. And you didn’t. We tried to argue with them, but they were resolute. I’m so sorry.”
Had Eve been right? Had she been rejected simply over a technicality? Why, then, had Mrs. Shuler encouraged her to “think about Carnation”? She hadn’t had recommendation letters for Carnation, either. But maybe that was what made Carnation different from the other two; maybe its requirements were less stringent.
“The school should have told us,” Daniella said. “They should have let us know so that everyone had a fair chance.”
We Are All Good People Here Page 3