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CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Rush Week has finally arrived: four nights of house visits, interviews, and meet-and-greets, plus three rounds of “selections.” Unfortunately, I won’t be able to stick close to Liv’s side and look out for her like I planned.

We have different Rho Gammas, the Greek-ified term for Recruitment Guides, which means we won’t be visiting the sorority houses in the same group.

According to a pro-tips website Liv found, tonight for round one we’re supposed to dress “cute and casual.” I’m tempted to throw on jeans and a sweater, but Liv has higher expectations.

“Wear those cords your mom got you. And your boots.”

I style them with a pretty, pale blue top and help Liv liven up her twinset with some understated jewelry. I’m boldly wearing my amethyst but I’ve hidden the faerie pin in my purse. Silly to bring it, I know, but I want it with me. Like a security blanket.

At the end of South Street, Liv and I part, but not before I give her a hug. “I want to hear all about it when we get back.”

Jeanine, my group’s Rho Gamma, meets us in front of Delta Rho Beta, fills us in on the night’s procedures, then leads the eight of us into the house.

The DRBs aren’t the prettiest or most popular girls at Brownhill—they’re more granola than glam—but they’re the perfect sorority to warm up with.

Round one is a lot of talking. A lot, lot, lot of talking.

Each prospective is seated alone in a room where she has a quick chat with one sister after the next.

Liv has advised me not to be generic, but it’s hard when you have only five minutes to talk to each girl and they all ask you the same things: hometown, major, hobbies and clubs, yada yada yada.

It’s not until I mention that I’m considering a women’s studies minor that the list-like questions cease.

Piper, the willowy redhead who’s questioning me, smiles. “That’s my minor!”

We spend our remaining three minutes talking about how we’re going to smash the patriarchy and suddenly DRB is much more appealing to me.

I know they’re more service-oriented than the party-girl sororities.

Okay, that’s not fair, all sororities do service.

No one minds volunteering at the senior center and the animal shelter.

Even the most refined KPT can look lovely as she strokes a kitten or has lunch with the elderly.

So when Piper tells me DRB partners with a domestic violence shelter, I have to restrain my shock.

And my enthusiasm. I know I’ll hear more about each sorority’s philanthropies and service projects in rounds two and three, but I’m ready to bag all the small talk and get to the meat right now.

After the high of interacting with the girls from DRB, the trite conversation at the next two sororities leaves me feeling dull.

My brain is so numb I hardly register that we’re following Jeanine into the KPT house until I recognize the topiaries framing the front door.

We’re assaulted by classical music and the fragrance of roses.

Perfume or flowers, I don’t know. I follow orders and cross the plush carpet to the settee I’ve been assigned.

Yes, settee. If ever a chair earned that name in the twenty-first century, it’s the one my cords-clad butt is sitting on right now.

I fidget with my pendant as Lara walks into the room.

“Betts Peterson!” she gushes. “I’m so glad to see you here. How’s the night going so far?”

I tell her it’s been fun, but quite a whirlwind .

She waves a dismissive hand. “Oh, I’ll be honest. It doesn’t matter what you say. I mean, who can get to know someone in five minutes? It’s all about how you look and you don’t have anything to worry about there.”

She raves about my boots and hair. And Zander, of course. Then, just when I think I’m about to escape her unscathed, she narrows her eyes. “That’s such an interesting necklace. Can I see it up close?”

I don’t want her getting her bitch-cooties all over it, but what choice do I have? I nod, then grit my teeth as she lifts it off my chest and turns it to catch the light.

“What is it?” she asks.

“An amethyst.”

“Your birthstone?”

“Nope. I just like purple.”

“A gift from Zander?”

I will myself not to tense. “No. He’s not really a jewelry kind of guy.”

“Oh?” She sounds suspicious. “Then who gave it to you?”

“I gave it to myself,” I lie, and pray my face isn’t as red as it feels.

Fortunately, our time is up, and Lara has to hand me over. Un fortunately, she hands me over to Peyton.

“Oh, Betts, are you a sight for sore eyes! The prospectives are just so pitiful this year.” Peyton perches on the corner of the settee and crosses her perfect legs. She’s dressed for a garden party. In January. “They’re all so desperate .”

She means Liv, of course.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I say, as blandly as possible.

“Not that you have to worry. You’re at the top of all the lists.”

How is that possible? Rush only started a few hours ago.

“My advice?” Peyton lays a hand on my shoulder. Her nails are painted pale pink and look a little like Jordan almonds. “Choose what’s best for you. Worrying about others only drags you down.”

“I’ll take that into consideration. ”

“Good.” Her smile is so big and fake I’m surprised her face doesn’t split in two. “So, I don’t believe I know your major.”

Unlike Lara, Peyton runs me through the standard questions. And why not? She’s already made her decision: I’m in, because I’m going out with Zander, Liv’s out, because she’s sleeping with Braden. Our status is totally dependent on men. In a sisterhood!

The other two KPTs I talk to are innocuous. Pretty, polished, well-mannered. If I joined KPT and lived in the house, would they balk when I had Avery over? The thought has me fighting a smile all the way to the next sorority house.

The evening ends with my group’s visit to GKA, the top sorority on my list. After the quick-fire chats, I find I still like them, particularly their emphasis on scholarship. And none of them dress like Duchess Kate.

After Jeanine gathers us like a mother hen and explains tomorrow’s agenda, I race back to Newberry, hoping to beat Liv home.

I want to be there for her, prepped and ready for whatever state she might be in.

But she’s already in our room when I return, her cheeks pink from the cold and a broad smile on her lips.

“All the girls were sooo nice. Even Peyton. And DAE seemed really interested in me too, and…” she goes on and on as I shake the blood back into my icy fingers and toes.

I smile at her good news, but I’m still convinced Peyton and KPT are up to something. Rush is the perfect arena for Peyton to exact her revenge.

I change into my jammies and join Liv on her bed so we can rank the sororities in order of interest. Afterwards, we’ll email our lists to our Rho Gammas and keep our fingers crossed that our favorites have chosen us too.

Eagerly, Liv starts, “I think I’m gonna put?—”

“No, wait. Let’s each do our own lists, then compare. That way we won’t influence each other.”

Silently, we work on our rankings. I know who I’d like to put last, but for Liv’s sake, I don’t. I’m still on my undercover assignment. Mission not yet complete.

Liv shows me her finished list first. KPT is number one, of course, and her other top spots are taken by the sororities the frat boys like best. The ones with the girls who can drink you under the table while still looking hot in their skinny jeans.

Nervously, I hand Liv my choices. I don’t have to wait long for her to gasp.

“DRB? Have you lost your mind?”

“I really liked them. They talked about interesting things, and they do all kinds of service.”

“Service? Who cares? That’s only, like, two percent of being in a sorority.”

“Well, it’s a lot more than that for DRB.”

“Betts—” Liv’s voice drops an octave, like she’s trying to be patient with my stupidity. “You can’t join DRB. Zander would die.”

“Zander doesn’t care which sorority I join.”

“Yeah, so long as it’s not DRB. Come on Betts, really? They’re the lamest sorority at Brownhill. It’s social suicide.”

I can barely contain my irritation. “Because they care about the world outside of Fraternity Row?”

“No. Because they don’t even shave their legs!”

Needless to say, Liv has DRB at the bottom of her list.

I take a deep breath and assure her, “I have GKA next and then KPT.” Never mind that KPT’s there under false pretenses.

Mollified, Liv smiles. “Oh good, then you haven’t completely gone off the deep end.”

You want to see deep end? What if I just bagged the whole Rush and spent the evenings at Avery’s instead?

The thought is way too appealing and if I brood on it too long, I just might cave in and do it.

Then I’d have Liv, and Zander, and worst of all, Mom, to answer to.

As it is, none of them will be pleased with my top choice.

While I lie in bed, struggling to get to sleep, I consider changing my list. To Mom, a sorority is a pipeline to the Junior League, to Liv, it’s the key to social desirability, and to Zander, well, our relationship revolves around Greek life, so it only makes sense that I choose a sorority that’s compatible with O-Chi.

DRB would take me away from him in terms of my time and priorities.

I’m already living two different lives, how much worse would it be if I joined DRB?

One day I’d be a powerful psychic and the next an activist out to change the world.

On the third day, I’m the scholar with her nose buried in a book, and on the weekends? Zander O’Leary’s arm-candy.