Dahlia shook her head. “Just that we have to be careful with her.”
Even before Dahlia had finished talking, all the feathers transformed. Reagan Ostrov was in, and Scarlett couldn’t help thinking that the Ravens would deserve what they got.
“Very well,” Dahlia said.
Something soured a little in Scarlett’s stomach when they all turned to the next page of the book, and she saw the annoyingly naïve, brown-haired white girl she’d handed a sparkler to staring up at her. Vivian Devereaux, the page said.
“She told me she didn’t even want to pledge,” Scarlett said before anyone else could speak up. “Why would we consider someone who doesn’t like us?”
“Did she actually say she didn’t like us?” Mei arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. Her hair, which she’d done in a sharp bob for the rush party, was waist-length and tipped in lavender today.
Scarlett waved a dismissive hand. “She said she’s not the sorority type—which she’s right about, by the way. So why waste a bid?”
Dahlia watched her through narrowed eyes. “Normally you’re all for inviting as many people as possible. What did you argue last year? ‘We’ll never know how strong someone is until we test them’?”
Dahlia was right. It was something Minnie had always told her.
Tiffany leaned forward. “I’m with Scarlett.” Scarlett flashed her best friend a grateful smile. “Besides, is this really all we know about this girl?” She gestured to the nearly blank page in the Kappa Book.
Mother: Unknown.
Father: Unknown.
History: Unknown.
“She moved around a lot,” Dahlia said. “We found records from her most recent school in Nevada, but she only attended classes there for four months. Before that, she was homeschooled in a town near the Northern California border—”
“I think she has potential,” Mei said. “She doesn’t even know she’s a witch yet. I for one would like to see what she can do.”
“Scarlett.” Dahlia looked at her. “It’s up to you.”
Scarlett blinked in surprise. Normally decisions like this were the president’s to make. But she understood Dahlia’s underlying meaning: If you’re going to lead Kappa next year, you need to be able to make decisions for the group, not just yourself. After a slow, deep breath, Scarlett nodded. “You’re right, Mei. We should give her a chance.” Mei flashed her a smile. Etta grinned too. But Scarlett remained poker-faced as she held up her feather to darken once more. Just because she’d chosen to be magnanimous didn’t mean she had to like it.
They finished voting for the remainder of the potentials: a girl named Ariana Ruiz and one named Bailey Kaplan, who also didn’t know they were witches; a set of twins; and a legacy whose sparkler hadn’t ignited so much as sparked feebly. Scarlett doubted that one would pass the first rite.
When they finished, Dahlia cleared her throat. “Before you go, ladies, I have one more order of business.”
Scarlett sat up straighter, giving Tiffany an excited grin.
“Tiffany. Scarlett. Mei.” Dahlia eyed each of them in turn. “You three are my strongest junior witches.”
We’re your only junior witches thanks to the disaster freshman year, Scarlett thought, then pushed the thought away.
“To ensure that we have an incredible class of new sisters this year, I’m assigning each of you a special role. How you perform in these roles will help us decide on our next class of officers.”
Help you decide who’s stepping into your shoes, you mean. Scarlett fixed her eyes on Dahlia. Whatever it took, she needed to make sure it would be her.
“Tiffany, you’ll be taking on the position of social chair. Organizing all our events and functions falls to you.”
Beside Dahlia, Tiffany nodded eagerly. “I’ll do my best.”
“Mei, you’ll be our representative on the Panhellenic council. You’ll liaise with the other Greek organizations on campus and manage our alumnae relationships.”
Scarlett didn’t envy her friend that. It meant dealing with powerful women like Scarlett’s mother, who had strong opinions about how Westerly in general and Kappa in particular should run. She shot Mei a commiserating wince, and Mei plastered on a brave smile in return.
“Scarlett.”
She straightened.
“You’ll be the membership chair. You’ll design the group Hell Week trials, vet our new inductees, and train them in basic spells—not just during Hell Week but all year, once we select our new sisters.”
Yes. Scarlett bowed her head to hide the sudden, huge grin on her face. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mei’s smile falter. This was the most important job, and everyone knew it. “I won’t let you down.”
“I know you won’t.” Dahlia nodded. “Remember, sisters, Hell Week, and the whole pledge process, is not about torturing anybody. It’s about finding rare and unusual talent among the sea of average at this school. We need to find girls who will uphold our legacy. Who, like us, are ambitious, talented, driven, smart, and powerful. True Ravens.” She closed her hymnal with a definitive snap and then, with a wave of her hand, burst the distraction spell. Scarlett and Tiffany got to their feet, the sounds of the main green rushing back into their circle.
“Ready for a little competition, sis?” Tiffany asked.
“Bring it on,” Scarlett said, locking arms with her best friend.
Tiffany grinned as her voice sounded in Scarlett’s head. May the best witch win.
Chapter Seven
Vivi
For the first time in years, Vivi woke up smiling. Golden sunlight filtered through the gap in the curtains she’d forgotten to close, but she didn’t mind. The sweet gum tree by the window filled the room with the scent of dew, and in the distance, the bell in the clock tower tolled.
The first orientation activity today wasn’t for another hour, so Vivi rolled onto her side and snuggled deeper into her pillow. She replayed the events of last night. The music. The dancing. The sparklers. Her very first party hadn’t been merely a success—it’d been like something out of a dream. Vivi’s lids grew heavy, and she was just about to drift back to sleep when something caught her eye, a lavender envelope on her otherwise empty dresser top. Blinking drowsily, she reached out and picked it up, then settled back into bed. It was surprisingly heavy and unmarked except for her name in cursive and a strangely shaped wax seal on the back—an inverted five-pointed star.
She recognized the symbol and frowned. It was on her mother’s tarot cards, though usually with the point upright.
“Someone left that for you,” said a curt voice that made Vivi flinch under the sheets.
Right. Zoe. In her post-party daze, she’d managed to forget about the existence of her roommate for a few hours. Now she squinted at the girl on the far side of the room, who was already up and, apparently, painting her nails, judging by the astringent scent emanating from her desk area.
“Who?” Vivi yawned as she forced herself into a seated position and then stood up.
“I don’t know. It was just there this morning when I got back from the shower. Whoever it was, tell them not to come into our room without permission again.”
Vivi made a noncommittal noise as she slid her finger under the seal and removed the cream-colored card inside. There was a handwritten message:
Vivian,
It was a pleasure meeting you last night. We would love to get to know you better and cordially invite you to pledge Kappa Rho Nu. We look forward to seeing you at Kappa House on Tuesday evening at eight.
Yours,
Dahlia Everly, President
Vivi stared at the card in confusion. “It’s from Kappa. They’ve invited me to pledge.”
Even Zoe seemed surprised and fixed Vivi with an appraising look, as though searching for something about Vivi she’d missed in her first assessment.
Vivi didn’t blame her. She was having similar doubts. “I have no idea what I could’ve done to make a good impression.�
��
“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” Zoe said, sounding both impressed and irritated. “Besides, if you’re accepted, you know you get to move out of here and into Kappa House, right?”
Suddenly, Vivi had another burning reason to want to join the sorority.
Her stomach rumbled, a reminder that it was finally time to brave the dining hall. She’d had chips from the vending machine for lunch yesterday, and last night there’d been a “pizza welcome mixer” in the dorm’s common room, but she wouldn’t be able to put off a trip there for much longer. She’d always hated going to the cafeteria for the first time at a new school. It was never clear how much you were allowed to take and what you were meant to do with your tray afterward. She couldn’t afford to let her awkwardness win out this time; she refused to become the star of the viral video “Girl Spends Seven Full Minutes Befuddled by Milk Dispenser.”
She showered quickly in the communal bathroom, then returned to her room to grab her phone and ID card. At the last minute, she plucked the Kappas’ invitation off her bed. Perhaps if she read it again after coffee had kicked in, it’d make a little more sense. As Vivi pulled on a pair of sweatpants, she could almost feel the look of derision Zoe was shooting her way, but she didn’t care. Vivi didn’t own an outfit that would impress her stylish roommate and it was pointless to waste time pretending otherwise.
As she stepped out of her dorm, an elegant brick building covered with ivy, Vivi felt some of her anxiety melt away. She actually lived here, on one of the most beautiful campuses in the country. It was going to feel like home soon, she just knew it.
“So you’re the Kappas’ next victim, I see?” Startled, Vivi turned to see a girl in tight black jeans and a shredded black shirt sitting cross-legged in the grass. She raised an eyebrow meaningfully at the lavender envelope in Vivi’s hand.
Instinctively, Vivi tucked the envelope into her purse. She wasn’t sure how this worked. Was she allowed to tell people she’d been invited? Or was it a secret? She went for noncommittal. “I don’t really know much about it yet.”
The girl gave Vivi a penetrating look that made Zoe’s stares seem friendly by comparison, then smirked and rose to her feet. “Be careful with them,” she said, almost more to herself than to Vivi, then sauntered away.
That was weird, Vivi thought as she continued toward the dining hall. Maybe the girl was jealous? Kappas were selective, and lots of people had been at that party vying for bids, which made Vivi wonder all the more why they’d chosen her. She hadn’t been dressed properly and didn’t know how to dance well. The Kappas she’d met had been nice to her, but they’d been welcoming to everybody. What about Vivi had caught their eye?
Zoe’s right, she thought for the first and possibly last time ever. Don’t ask why. Just be glad something good is finally happening to you.
Before she had time to grow nervous about entering the dining hall alone, Vivi saw Ariana waving at her from a few yards away. “Are you going to breakfast?” Ariana asked. “Thank God. I was afraid I was going to have to sit by myself.” She bit her lip. “Sorry, I mean, it’s fine if you’re meeting people. I don’t want to force you to eat with me.”
“That’d be great,” Vivi said with a smile, relieved to learn that even girls like Ariana had the same concerns she did.
“How are you holding up after last night?” Ariana asked as they climbed the stone stairs. “I think I had one too many of those teacup cocktails; my head is pounding.”
“Nothing a little coffee won’t solve,” Vivi said. Then she hesitated for a moment, thinking back to the envelope she’d tucked into her purse. “So I found something on my dresser this morning . . .” For a split second, she regretted saying anything, in case Ariana hadn’t received a bid herself.
But to her relief, Ariana gave her a broad smile. “You got a bid? Me too. Exciting, right?” Ariana’s face fell again almost immediately. “Oh God, what am I going to wear? They didn’t give any guidelines. Do you think it’ll be dressy, like the cocktail party? Or more, like, business-casual, maybe . . .”
Vivi felt her own panic growing as Ariana rattled off possibilities until the jingling of a phone stopped her midstream. “Shoot.” Ariana paused on the dining-hall steps and frowned at the screen. “My roommate locked herself out. Can I get a rain check on breakfast? I’m sorry to ditch you like this. Will you be okay?”
“I’ll be fine,” Vivi said. She prayed it’d be true.
“You’re the best. Oh, let me grab your number—I can text you later.”
Vivi recited her phone number, then watched Ariana bound off, curls coming loose from her bun and bouncing back and forth atop her head. A few seconds later, Vivi’s phone buzzed with a new text. ARIANA RUIZ’S NUMBER! Vivi smiled as she slipped her phone into her pocket. She might have to face eating alone, but at least one friend prospect was looking up.
She took a deep breath and continued up the wide steps. The large stone building looked more like a church than a cafeteria, and when Vivi pushed open the heavy door, she found herself in an enormous space unlike any she’d seen before. Exposed wooden rafters soared across the ceiling, and twelve-foot-high windows filled the room with sunlight that glinted off the glass vase in the center of every round table. It was as if Martha Stewart had redecorated Hogwarts.
There was no line at the breakfast buffet, where Vivi gleefully filled her plate with scrambled eggs and pancakes. But when she started walking toward one of the many empty tables, she realized she’d made a terrible mistake. There was a waffle bar. What was she doing wasting her time with pancakes when there was a waffle bar? She carefully set her tray down at the bar and began to ladle waffle batter into the iron. There was a loud hiss and she jumped back in surprise as sizzling batter dripped down the sides and spilled onto the table. “Shit,” she said under her breath, unsure what do to. Was it possible to set a building on fire with batter?
“You really are a menace to public safety, aren’t you?”
Vivi’s breath caught as she turned to see the boy who’d carried her bags yesterday grinning at her. “I’m just joking,” he said. “I can tell you have everything under control, though you might want to flip that at some point. Here, allow me.” He reached out and turned the waffle iron over.
“Is this some weird hobby of yours?” Vivi managed to say, regaining some of her composure. “You sneak around campus waiting for girls to embarrass themselves so you can swoop in and be the hero?”
“The hero?” he repeated thoughtfully. “You know what? I like that. Mason Gregory, breakfast hero.” He stuck out his hand. “Saving innocent girls from the indignity of eating slightly misshapen waffles. Excuse me. Duty calls.” He reached past Vivi, opened the iron, carefully removed the golden-brown waffle, and tipped it onto her plate. “Voilà, mademoiselle.”
“Vous êtes trop gentil, monsieur.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Oh, so you’re fancy, huh? In that case, allow me to prepare the specialty of the house, waffles à la Mason.” He began to scoop toppings onto Vivi’s waffle, first strawberries, then chocolate chips, then a swirl of whipped cream.
“Okay, that’s enough,” Vivi said with a laugh as she reached for her plate.
“Non, non, mademoiselle,” he said with a terrible French accent as he held the plate in the air. “It is not finished yet.” He carried it over to the cereal bar and sprinkled cornflakes on top.
“What? No!” Vivi said as she tried to grab the plate.
Mason pivoted and managed to add a serving of Lucky Charms before she yanked her breakfast from his grasp. “This is disgusting,” she said, eyeing the concoction.
He looked hurt. “Are you doubting my culinary skills? Just take a bite. It’ll blow your mind.”
“I’ll be sure to report back. Unless . . . are you sitting with anyone?” She paused as her heart began to race, just as it always did when she did something that could potentially end badly. “Do you want to sit together?” The moment the words lef
t her mouth, she immediately regretted saying anything. They’d had a fun exchange, and now she’d ruined everything by being a weirdo.
“I’d be honored,” he said with a smile. “I’m Mason, in case you didn’t catch it earlier.”
“Vivi,” she said.
“Vivi,” Mason repeated. “I like it.”
She followed him to one of the round tables and lowered her tray gingerly, careful not to let her coffee or orange juice slosh over the sides of the cups.
“Ah, freshmen,” Mason said. “So innocent, so lacking in tray-holding muscle memory.” He placed the tray on the table with an exaggerated flourish.
“Are you a sophomore?” Vivi asked.
“Senior.”
“Then how come you haven’t learned how to make an edible waffle by now?”
Mason faked an offended gasp. “How can you say that? You haven’t even tried it yet.” Without asking, he reached across to cut himself a piece. For a moment, Mason’s arm brushed Vivi’s and she felt a spark at the touch.
She ignored the heat in her cheeks at the intimacy of the gesture and was about to cut herself a square when he swallowed his own bite and grimaced.
“Ha! See?” she said. She lowered her knife and fork and picked up a strip of bacon instead.
He smirked. “So, besides attacking people with suitcases and burning waffles, what do you enjoy doing? Are you one of those freshmen with their whole four years planned out already or the kind who changes their major three times?”
“The latter, probably. I’ve spent my whole life barely able to plan my next week, let alone years, plural.”
“Really?” he asked, surveying her with new interest. “Why’s that?”
She took a sip of coffee to stall for time. The last thing she wanted to talk to a cute guy about was her exasperating mother. “My childhood was a little . . . unconventional. We moved around a lot, sometimes without much notice.”
She braced for a look of confusion—or, worse, pity—and was surprised to see a trace of wistfulness in his face. “It sounds nice, getting to start over now and then.”
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