Page 29 of Terror Tuesday

Aiden

Good. He’s smart, stable. Predictable.

Henry

Wait, is that the guy who always wears those matching dollar-sign socks? I like him. He helped a squirrel out of the vending machine once.

Ryan

Finally, a man who could carry her books and her trauma.

Aiden

Don’t scare him off.

They act like they’re subtle. They’re not. I smirk despite myself.

Me

I’m fine. Just busy. Terror Tuesday prep. Wish me luck.

Aiden

You don’t need luck. You’ve got bloodlines. I got you.

Henry

Love you, O.

Ryan

Text if you need bail. Or a body hidden.

I almost say thank you. Instead, I turn the screen off. Then, another buzz.

Mom

Good luck tonight, sweetheart. Terror Tuesday is your thing. I know you’ll make us proud.

Dad

Don’t forget you and I have brunch with the chancellor’s family this weekend. Dress code: clean ambition.

I stare at the messages for a moment longer than I should. They love me. I know they do. But even love feels like another appointment sometimes.

Taking a deep breath, I steal a moment alone. The only one I’ve had all day. Fortunately, I don’t have classes this morning and revel in the luxury of silence. Single bedroom. Door closed. Locked.

A wheeled garment rack Sora forced into my room Sunday evening blocks my chaise lounge. Four costume options hang from it like ceremonial offerings, each tagged in her aggressive cursive: “Regal,” “Ethereal,” “Temptress,” and the front-runner: “Queen Bitch.”

The dress she wants me to wear is unmistakable.

Soft pink satin. Boned corset. High slit. Off-the-shoulder sleeves that drape like fallen petals. A trail of sheer rose tulle pools at the bottom like smoke. The crown tucked beside it gleams with pink rhinestones and barbed wire.

Because, inOmega, we don’t wear black to be bad.

We wear pink like poison in perfume.

Nick didn’t understand what Greek Life girls do, but I wouldn’t go for a cheap costume. No. The theme for this year’s Terror Tuesday is “Reign.” Fitting.