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Moscow, Idaho

I t’s Bid Day at the University of Idaho.

Kaylee Goncalves and Maddie Mogen chose the University of Idaho precisely because of its strong Greek life. Nearly one-quarter of UI students take part.

The two look-alike, blond (Maddie’s is natural; Kaylee’s is dyed) best friends, both freshmen, take their seats in the auditorium.

They glance nervously at the throng of women packed around them like canned sardines, all clutching envelopes.

Inside each is the name of the sorority the student has gotten into.

Kaylee’s and Maddie’s top choice is Alpha Phi—or APhi, as it’s known, pronounced “ay-fee.” As one of its members described the sorority, it’s a place “for blondes, for homecoming queens, for popular girls, leaders, girls who like to party—and to get ready to party.”

Last night, to help the newcomers make up their minds, the sororities invited the women to so-called preference ceremonies at their top choices.

At APhi, one of the sisters told a sad but moving story: Her boyfriend, a football star, had tragically lost his battle with cancer, and the support of the house was what got her through.

Both girls know that Greek life isn’t just about parties. The friendships and networks and bonds formed in each house are an important factor in most students’ social and, later, professional lives. Maddie wants a career in marketing, Kaylee in IT.

Kaylee and Maddie drove to campus together and spent the past few days rushing together.

And the past six years doing everything together.

Maddie has been entering Kaylee’s house without knocking just like she’s part of Kaylee’s noisy, happy, hectic, vast family since they were both twelve years old.

Maddie is more of a girlie-girl than Kaylee, who used to be a bit of a tomboy.

Kaylee is more of an extrovert than Maddie and maybe more of a hustler.

She’s had to be to get what she wants, given the size of the Goncalves household.

Kaylee has four siblings. Maddie is an only child, and her home, by contrast, is quiet.

Since their early teens, these two shared summer boat rides on the lake in Coeur d’Alene, winter bathing in the nearby hot springs, trips to Seattle, beach vacations in Puerto Rico, in Grand Cayman, in Hawaii. They’ve never spent more than a few days apart.

Maddie recently heard that UI sororities like to separate girls who know each other well. Apparently, the point of Greek life is to make new friends, not cling to old ones.

Here in the auditorium, Maddie waits to learn if APhi will choose Kaylee over her.

It’s a daunting moment as the clock ticks on.

Twenty seconds to go. The hundreds of freshman girls in the auditorium count down together. Ten seconds. Five seconds. Four. Three. Two…

Maddie and Kaylee tear open their envelopes.

There are screams all around, women sobbing, running. Maddie’s eyes blur with tears.

She didn’t make APhi.

And Kaylee did.

The slip of paper in Maddie’s envelope tells her she’s been picked by Pi Beta Phi, known as Pi Phi (pronounced “pie-fie”)—a perfectly respectable sorority but not generally considered a top house on campus.

Within seconds, there’s a stampede for the exit as the women race out to the lawn to find their new sorority sisters, standing out there under signs.

Here, now, isn’t the time to say goodbye. But for Maddie and Kaylee, it’s an ending. And it’s a beginning.