One by one, the sisters of Sigma Theta Kappa filed into a dining room cleared of everything but tables and chairs, a projector and laptop, and a set of colored paddles in front of every seat. Instead of yoga pants and T-shirts, the sisters wore black robes, in recognition of the important decisions they were about to make. Delia stood at the front of the room holding a fat white candle. One by one, the girls filed past her, each one stopping to hold her palm over the flame, just close enough to feel a hint of pain. This was one of Sigma’s most sacred rituals, and it symbolized the dual nature of the power they held—the ability to provide warmth and hospitality but also to burn through misplaced priorities.
Cass hovered her own hand over the candle, wondering how so many around her had managed to miss this second meaning. She closed her fist around the warm spot on her palm and took her place at her own table while Delia joined Marina at the projector.
Cass’s phone vibrated against her thigh. She peeked into her robe pocket. It was Leo.
Sorry I was an ass earlier. Can you be here by ten?
Cass read the text a couple of times, trying to decide how she felt about it. Was he apologizing because he meant it or because he needed help?
And how badly did it suck that she found herself asking those questions at all?
She thumbed a reply, figuring backing out would only make things worse. As soon as voting’s over, she wrote.
Xcellent, came his fast reply.
Ruby stole a glance over Cass’s shoulder. “I don’t think you can go,” she whispered. “Word is they’re getting ready to put us on some sort of lockdown.”
Sure enough, once all of the sisters were in place Delia cleared her throat. “Before we get started, I have something important to discuss,” she announced. “Last night the Beta Phis were caught dirty rushing.”
A huge gasp went up. Everybody sat forward, straining for the details.
“One of their actives was seen talking to some rushees at a bar downtown. When confronted, both admitted it was about recruitment. The rushees have been disqualified and the Beta Phis will have the rest of their bids entered last at Greek Council, which effectively renders their first picks forfeited. They will take whatever candidates are left after the other houses have extended invitations and collected their new pledge classes.”
Murmurs burbled up, surprised and deliciously excited. With the Beta Phis out of competition, Sigma would be more likely to get its top picks.
Delia held up her arms for silence. “To prevent any more problems, all of the rushees are on a strict curfew. And so is Sigma. From now until nine a.m. tomorrow, no one is to leave this house.”
Murmurs turned into shouts of alarm. Aimee Wu raised her hand. “Are the other houses locked in, too?”
“No,” said Delia. “But I’m making the call for Sigma. With bids going out tomorrow I don’t want to take any chances. There’ll be plenty of time for going out when recruitment is over.”
“This is bullshit,” Cass whispered to Ruby. She had a life outside of rush; she couldn’t just bail on it. She slid her hand to her phone to text Leo but stopped when Delia focused those steely eyes on her.
“Are we ready?” Delia asked.
Cass shoved the phone back into her pocket and started to sing. “O Sigma Theta Kappa . . .”
As the other sisters joined in, Marina dimmed the lights until the only illumination came from the screen at the front of the room. As soon as they’d recited the Sigma pledge, the first photograph appeared.
“Lauren Hubbard,” droned Delia. “What say you, sisters?”
Silently, the sisters reached for their paddles. Tonight there would be no debating, and the colored paddles didn’t stand for yes and no votes. Tonight the paddles stood for lists.
White stood for First List—the list of the chosen.
Red stood for Second List—the also-rans.
Black stood for doom. No one on Third List ever made it into the new pledge class. For that matter, neither did anybody on Second List, except for the extremely lucky few who managed to step into a spot left by a rushee who’d decided to turn Sigma down.
But nobody ever turned down Sigma.
Poor Lauren Hubbard kept on smiling from the screen as red and black paddles went up all over the room. Marina counted, then typed on her computer. In the corner of the projection screen, a graph appeared with a tally. Though the final rankings wouldn’t be shown until the end, this initial result gave a good idea where each individual rushee stood. Miss Hubbard was low Second List. She’d be lucky if she didn’t get bumped down to Third by the time all the other rushees had been voted on.
Next up: Imogen Ash. Apparently, she’d made a mistake and had never meant to cut Sigma in the first place. That was the story that had made its way around the house after the must-have to end all must-haves had reappeared at the last party of the day. Cass thought it stank, but what could she do? Raising questions would only piss people off, and she was already paranoid after what had happened with Madeleine Christopher in the powder room.
Imogen Ash looked out of the screen with that wry smile, and Delia cleared her throat. “What say you, sisters?”
Fifty white paddles whooshed into the air. Cass sat with hers still on the table. Delia would get what she wanted: Imogen Ash on First List, but that didn’t mean Cass had to fly with the rest of the hive. She waited until Delia noticed that she hadn’t cast her vote yet, then held up black, like a period on a sheet of paper.
And then, she let it go. All she really cared about were the girls she and her pledge class had tried to help. Would their hostessing plan work? Cass waited for names and watched their results.
Devon Morales—Second List
Ivy Anderson—First List (but low; she’d be lucky to stay there)
Marissa Larkin—high Second List
Leah Sandoval, Megan Fitch’s favorite girl, came up solid First List. “Yes!” said Megan, pumping her fist, and Cass smiled. One was better than nothing.
Finally, another familiar face appeared on the screen.
“Madeleine Christopher,” said Delia. “What say you, sisters?”
Cass counted as white paddles were raised, one for each member of her pledge class. Courtney Mann sat poker faced, with her hands folded in front of her. Aimee Wu twirled a lock of hair around her finger, looking almost bored. Around the room, the rest of the Killer Bees sat quietly at their own tables.
And then, they stung.
Courtney held up black. Then Aimee. Then Allison Reed. Each black paddle pulled Madeleine Christopher down, canceling out her white votes. Combined with red votes from the handful of sisters who had no clue what was going on, Maddy’s initial tally showed her low on First List. But Cass could already predict what would happen.
An hour later, when all of the tallies were shown, her fears were confirmed. Madeleine Christopher had made mid Second List, which was basically no-man’s land. She would never know how close she’d come to breaking through. She would never know what had gone on behind the scenes on her behalf. All she would know, the next morning when she opened her engraved envelope, was that it did not contain a bid from Sigma Theta Kappa.
Cass sat back in her chair. She’d done all she could, but it wasn’t enough. Barring some sort of divine intervention, Madeleine Christopher was out.
Meanwhile back in the real world, Leo still needed help.
As soon as voting ended Cass hung her robe in the chapter room, then sneaked down the back steps and out the side door of the sorority. She pulled the door shut, mindful not to let it squeak. One step, two steps, three, and then she was on the side lawn. Just a few more steps and she’d be away from the house lights, safely in the dark. She started toward the OTE house, planning to cut across their lawn in order to get to the street.
“Where are you going?”
Cass froze. She turned to see Delia, nearly hidden by the shadow of the portico. She’d been so quiet, sitting there on the stairs, that Cass had walked right past her and not even noticed.
“I have to help my friend at Delaney’s,” Cass explained. “I can’t stay in.”
“We can’t risk having any more incidents,” said Delia.
Cass flashed back to earlier, in the powder room. “Nothing happened with Madeleine Christopher today, if that’s what you’re talking about. Besides, we’ve made all of our decisions. The rankings are in.”
“But they still have to rank us.”
Cass let out an exasperated sigh. “Like any of those girls is going to turn us down.”
Delia said nothing. No speech about not taking things for granted. No uptight harping on the rules. Just . . . what was it Cass detected in Delia’s silence? Was it fear?
“Whatever you might be thinking, I’m the last person you have to worry about,” Cass said. “My girl lost. I don’t have any other favorites. In fact, I don’t really care if any of the girls on First List pledge here, so I won’t be trying to influence anybody. And just to show you I’m serious, I won’t speak to anybody else for the rest of the night. I’ll be the amazing mute bartender. I promise.”
Cass couldn’t help trying one more joke, one last time with Delia. But Delia still sat like a stone.
“Or,” said Cass, “I can quit the house right now. I’ve done my duty as music leader. You don’t need me here anymore.”
It was the first time she’d ever seriously spoken of quitting Sigma. Sure, she’d joked about it, but something had always held her back—a memory of the way things used to be, maybe, and a hope that they could be that way again. But now she knew: There would always be Killer Bees. Girls like Madeleine Christopher would always have to claw their way out of Second List. And no matter what Cass did, to the rest of Sigma she would always be “subpar.”
Delia shook her head. “Don’t quit. We do need you. I’m sorry if you ever felt like we didn’t. I think maybe we’ve been wrong about some things. I know I have.”
And then—Cass could barely believe her eyes: Delia Danforth smiled! A tiny smile, but genuine. What amazed Cass more, however, was what she saw as her eyes grew more accustomed to the light: Delia’s cheeks were wet with tears.
“Hey,” said Cass. “Are you all right? I mean really. Are you okay? I know it’s none of my business, but I’ve been thinking you seem upset these past few days.”
Delia’s shoulders started to shake. She put her head in her hands, and Cass rushed back to the porch. She had no idea what to do. The idea of hugging Delia Danforth seemed completely alien. But then so did the reality of Delia Danforth sobbing in front of her.
She compromised by putting a hand on Delia’s arm. “Is it your dad? You must really miss him.”
“He was the one person in my life who always supported me,” said Delia. “Sort of like my rock, you know? He gave me advice and kept me going when things got hard. Losing him right now, on top of everything else, just makes this week harder. I don’t think I’ve ever been under so much pressure.”
“I can’t even imagine what that’s like,” Cass admitted. “And I know recruitment seems like this high-stakes thing. But honestly, Sigma could choose from hundreds of girls and end up with a great pledge class. Say we didn’t get Imogen Ash. Maybe we wouldn’t get Sophia’s library wing and maybe you wouldn’t win President of the Year or whatever award it is you get for snagging all of the must-haves. But if she doesn’t want us in the end, then isn’t it better to get people who really do want to be here? Why is one rushee so important?
“Because we’re talking about more than a new wing or some meaningless award.”
Delia wiped her cheeks with the palms of her hands and stared out across the lawn. “Sigma at Baldwin is on the verge of financial collapse. The endowments were badly invested, funds have been mismanaged, and with the way the economy’s been our usual donors are broke, too. The national chapter can do only so much, and now there’s barely enough money to keep the water running let alone build a new library. If we don’t find a solution soon, we could end up losing this house. I don’t want to be the president who let that happen. Not if I could have saved it.”
Cass gasped. The past few days suddenly made more sense. But still, she found it hard to believe the sorority could be in that much trouble without word getting out about it.
“Why didn’t the rest of us know?” she asked.
“We didn’t think it was a good idea to worry the chapter members, especially when we had a prospect like Imogen Ash coming through. A couple of donations from her family and everything would be okay.”
“So then it’s not a problem anymore, right? Imogen was back today so everything’s fine.”
“Yes . . . ,” said Delia.
“But . . . ?”
“Nothing.”
“You don’t look like it’s nothing. What did you do to get her to come back?”
“Nothing!” Delia’s reaction told Cass she was telling the truth. “I didn’t do anything. Neither did any of the other sisters that I know of. We were told Imogen made an honest mistake.”
“But you don’t think she did?”
“I guess I just wonder. I mean, I think about Sophia. She’s been so involved and the situation got resolved so quickly—rushees just don’t make mistakes like that very often. I can’t prove anything, and honestly I’m not sure I want to.” She shook her head again, looking exhausted “My father . . . Whenever he had a problem he solved it himself. He fixed everything on his own.”
“You don’t have to fix everything.”
Delia didn’t answer. She gazed at the fraternity across the lawn, and Cass could see there was someplace she’d rather be. And why not? If Cass had a boyfriend, she’d be pulling out her hair to get away and spend time with him right about now.
“What does Ben say about it?” she asked.
“I haven’t told him much, and he’s not really interested. He’s a little disgusted with Sigma, to be honest. He’s so invested in the Beacon—he’s never understood how important all of this is to me.”
They sat quietly, Cass unsure how to respond. For the first time, she could feel how truly alone Delia was.
“I don’t know how everything got so bad,” Delia said. “This isn’t the Sigma I joined. When I pledged, we really were about excellence and support—helping each other be the best we could be. Even recruitment was nicer. Yes, we had to disappoint people, but it was more about finding the right mix of personalities than it was about must-haves. And then . . .”
Delia paused, and Cass thought about the poster she’d found up in Marianne’s room.
“And then someone died,” she said, speaking a hunch and being way too bold. But she’d already seen Delia Danforth cry. She figured she didn’t have much else to lose.
“Things happen that change people,” Delia said after a long silence. “Things happen that make you refocus your priorities. But it got taken too far. And then money became an issue, and the next thing I knew, everything had turned into . . . this.” Delia waved her arm to encapsulate the house, the past week, the entire past year. “I know it hasn’t been easy. I’m sorry about that.”
Cass took a moment, waiting for the lump in her throat to go down so she could speak clearly.
“Thanks,” she told Delia. “That means a lot.”
“If you really need to go tonight, then you should go. Just, if anybody asks, don’t tell them I let you out.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes. Thanks for your hard work this week. You did a great job.”
“You did, too,” said Cass. She stood and stepped down off the porch. She started back across the lawn, hurrying now because she didn’t want to be late.
“Remember,” Delia called. “Don’t talk to anybody!”
As the lawn sloped down to the sidewalk, the damp grass offered little traction. Cass’s sandals slid on the moisture and the blades tickled the sides of her feet. She looked back at the house to see if Delia was still there and something else caught her eye—the glint of streetlights against two panes of open glass, and curtains billowing into the night. Earlier that day she’d closed the window in Marianne McCourt’s room, just like Delia had asked. But now it was open again.
Now this is a party.
Imogen sank into a decrepit Papasan chair, holding her beer over her head so it wouldn’t slosh out of its red plastic cup. Not that it made much of a difference. The beat-up wood floor already looked like it had a film on it from years’ worth of alcohol spills and God knows what else. Imogen might have been skieved out by the furniture, too, except she couldn’t see much of it under all the bodies lounging around. Music blared from the stereo, competing with laughter and the sounds of half-drunk conversations. Over in the corner a bunch of people were playing Mario Kart while the smell of weed emanated from a bathroom down the hall.
Filthy, smoky, crowded, and awesome—they didn’t have parties like this in her New York. Drinking and drugs, yes. Crazy people, absolutely. But getting down and dirty could be tough in a multi-million-dollar apartment. Once, Tippy had put lipstick on a priceless marble bust and thrown up in a Ming vase—both in the same evening. Their friends had dragged her out of the building, and the live-in maid had cleaned up the mess before anybody else noticed. Sometimes Imogen thought that was why Tippy had gone so far off the deep end: Whenever she’d tried to act out she’d always had somebody to swoop in and save her from herself.
Here there were no maids and no security guards. Nobody to say “think about your future” or “smile and make small talk.” Imogen took a swallow of beer. It was warm, watery, cheap, and even that was awesome. If she drank enough, she could forget about Sigma and her parents and Maddy, who’d lost it at her an hour earlier for no good reason.
At least that’s what she tried to tell herself.
Maddy’s a nut job. A total paranoid freak.
Unfortunately, she knew it was going to take a lot more than lite beer to convince herself of that. Because even though Maddy had said some crappy things, Imogen could still sort of see her point.
She might be paranoid, but you, Imogen Ash, are a hypocrite.
“Imogen! There you are!”
She looked up to see Ben coming out of the kitchen with Kathryn Pease at his side. He’d been AWOL when she’d first arrived, and she hoped she didn’t look like a slobbering puppy now at the sight of him in a hoodie and those Chucks. It was the first time she’d seen him since he’d walked her home two days ago—well, the first time she’d seen him in person. She’d spent more time than she cared to admit looking at his image on social media and all the other places where photos of the Beacon editor and his powerhouse sorority-president girlfriend might be found. Imogen looked, even though the whole thing was hopeless—especially now that her parents were forcing her to pledge Sigma. Now she’d have to spend the next several months watching the guy she liked with one of her sorority sisters.
Painful.
Ben spotted her and she sat up, almost tipping over the Papasan. Kathryn bolted forward to help while he watched with a lopsided smile on his face.
“You’re here,” he said when Imogen had regained her balance.
“I said I would be.” She pushed her hair out of her face. “I never renege on an RSVP.”
“Such formal talk!” His eyes were slightly unfocused and she could smell whiskey. “You can loosen up now,” he said. “Rush is over for the day.”
“Thank God for that!” She frowned into her cup. “We don’t get these kinds of refreshments at those kinds of parties.”
“And it looks like you’re almost out. Can I get you a refill?” He held his hand out for her cup. “And you?” He turned to Kathryn.
“No thanks,” she answered. “I’m good.”
“Be right back then. While I’m gone, I expect you to give Imogen a complete download of the Beacon style guide and copy-flow process. Got that? Hey, Yusef! I thought you said you’d switched out the keg!!”
Kathryn took a seat on the coffee table. “That’s our fearless leader,” she said, and sighed. “He even multitasks when he’s partying.”
“So he’s always like this?” Imogen asked.
“Ben is . . .” Kathryn chewed her lip, searching for the right words. “He’s talented.”
“That’s like saying a person is nice. Translation: there’s something wrong.”
Kathryn shook her head and smiled. “The only thing wrong with Ben is that he’s overextended and overworked. I’m a triple major so I know of what I speak.”
“But how much of that’s him and how much is his girlfriend?” Imogen hated herself for asking such a nakedly obvious question. It was an almost masochistic urge, trying to find out more about the girl who’d pretty much guaranteed that Ben Sherman was off-limits. “Isn’t she supposed to be like some queen bee taskmaster?”
Kathryn looked surprised. “I didn’t think he still had a girlfriend.”
“Oh?” Imogen’s eyes flew wide and she quickly pulled them into a less-delighted expression. “Did they break up or something?”
“I kind of thought they had,” Kathryn said. “He hasn’t mentioned her lately. At least not to me.”
Before Imogen could pump for more information, Ben popped up between them, a fresh cup of beer in each hand. Kathryn’s cheeks went red.
“So! Imogen! Sorority rush!” she said, changing the subject. “I never had time, but I hear it’s intense.”
Imogen glanced at Ben, wondering how much he remembered of their conversation two days ago. “It’s been insane, that’s for sure.”
“But you’re finished tomorrow?”
“Death sentences arrive at ten a.m. sharp. I’m dying to not think about it, though. At least not tonight.”
“Fine,” said Ben. “We won’t think about Greek stuff. We’ll think about freedom of the press and world peace and me not eating so much vending-machine crap.”
Kathryn laughed. So did Imogen. And as the alcohol started to buzz in her body she found she could almost forget the other things that had been troubling her, namely her parents and Sigma and Maddy. But just almost. Because right there, under the surface, was the truth:
She’d betrayed one of her first and best friends at Baldwin.
Yep, Imogen. Hypocrite all the way.
Completely unfair. Maddy threw her uneaten slice of pizza back into the box, next to the crusts left by the other rushees who’d crowded into the commons to watch old Friends episodes. Everybody else was dealing with the lockdown by pigging out, but she had no appetite at all. Nobody seemed to notice that Imogen was gone. Or if they did, nobody seemed to care. Even Alex, their rush counselor had pulled up a bean bag and was giggling like an idiot with absolutely no idea that one of her girls had snuck out.
Rachel came into the commons with her hair in a towel, and Maddy tried to hide behind a clump of girls crowded around the couch; she wasn’t in the mood to talk. Rachel checked the pizza box. When she saw there was nothing in it, she looked up.
“Hey!” she said. “Heard anything from Imogen?”
Maddy rolled her eyes “Why? Did she already get her bid or something?”
Rachel looked confused. “Why would she get a bid before everybody else?”
“I don’t know. She’s out somewhere. We’re stuck here. Nothing would surprise me at this point.”
“She told me she was going to a Beacon party.”
“I wonder if she’s really at the Beacon.”
Now it was Rachel’s turn to roll her eyes. “Where else would she be?”
“It’s just . . . don’t you think it’s a little weird that she gets to go out and the rest of us don’t?”
“She doesn’t get to do anything,” said Rachel. “She snuck out.”
“Right.” Maddy glanced pointedly over at Alex. “And conveniently, nobody seems to care.”
Rachel eyed Maddy suspiciously. “You’re not going to turn her in, are you? That wouldn’t be cool.”
“But it’s cool that she gets to run all over with no consequences whatsoever?”
“That’s her business. It doesn’t affect you.”
“I think it does.” Maddy looked around the room, at the girls who had no idea what was really going on, and decided enough was enough. It was time for girls like her to stand up and demand a change.
“I’m going to bed,” she told Rachel. She went back to her room, but instead of changing into her pajamas she put on a black T-shirt and shorts. Back in the commons, she was relieved to see that Rachel had left; she’d probably gone to bed, too.
“I’m just running down to the front desk,” Maddy told Alex. “Forgot to check my mail.”
Safely inside the elevator, she bounced up and down, trying to work out the excess adrenaline. She’d never done anything like this before—it made her dizzy and super aware of everything around her. When the elevator reached the lobby she walked out quickly, going straight to the front door like she had every right to be headed outside. Her back tingled as she pushed open the glass and stepped into the night. She expected a counselor to call her name or grab her shoulder and demand to know where she was going. She’d gotten halfway down the front walk before it hit her that nobody had even seemed to notice she was gone.
The night air was damp and cool as Maddy started off for the Sigma house.
“You’re late,” said Leo, transferring a tray of Jell-O shots from his shoulder to Cass’s.
Cass steadied the tray with one hand and picked up a bottle of beer with the other, ignoring a drunk frat boy who was demanding another round of Jägermeisters. “I told you I’d be here, and I’m here. It just took me longer to get away than I thought it would.”
“Well, thank God you did,” said Leo “If you’d been any later, I think my dad might have had a stroke.”
“Sweet Baby Jesus, who knew this band was so popular?” Mr. Delaney shouted as he passed by with both fists full of debit cards. The Headless Denvers had taken a break, which had brought a huge rush of drink orders. “If I can make it through tonight, I just might be able to retire!”
Cass chuckled, thankful to Leo’s dad for lightening the mood. She’d hoped things would be a little less tense with Leo, but the air between them was thick from the moment she’d walked into the bar.
“I think the whole school came back to town today,” she said as she surveyed the room. An impressive mix of people had come out for the show, from hipsters and drama geeks to jocks and sorority girls, with even more people lined up outside keeping Jack the bouncer on his toes. From the looks of things, the Sigmas were the only sorority that had been put on lockdown. Even the Beta Phis were out, with a full contingent at the other end of the bar. They’d already gotten busted for dirty rushing so they’d probably decided there was no reason not to go out and have fun.
“Hey, Cass!” The familiar voice came from a table by the wall. It was Jenn Sheets, a fellow voice major and one of the people Cass had been sorry to miss the other night. Cass hurried over to hug her, stumbling in the crowd and almost tripping over none other than the more-beautiful-in-person Mia Lancaster. She was impossible to miss, and the pain of seeing her with Leo returned like a smack to the face.
“Cass, this is Mia,” Jenn said. “She’s a musical theater composition major.”
“Oh,” said Cass. Composition was a new thing that year—a program for people who wanted to write musicals. It sounded cool and creative. And it only made Mia more intimidating.
Cass said as friendly a hello as she could manage and explained that she was working so it wouldn’t look rude if she didn’t stay to chat. Soon she would figure out how to watch Leo with other girls without feeling like she’d lost something that would take a long, painful time to replace. But it wasn’t tonight.
“What’s the matter,” Leo asked when Cass returned to the bar.
“Nothing.” She picked up the tray of drinks Mr. Delaney had shoved at her.
“You can go hang out with Jenn and those guys some more if you want. We’re busy but I know you haven’t gotten to see them yet.”
“No, it’s okay.”
“Or, if you’d rather go back to your sorority sisters, I can manage.”
Cass had finally had enough. Where had her fun, fiercely loyal best friend gone? She didn’t know what she planned to do about Sigma, but even if she left she wasn’t sure it would fix whatever was happening between them. Her lovesick heart had had all it could take.
“Can you just stop?” she said. “I don’t want to go back to the sorority. If you want to go hang out with your new girlfriend, I can take over here.”
“Girlfriend?” Leo looked confused. “Who, Jenn?”
“I hope not Jenn. Considering she doesn’t like boys.”
“Mia?”
Cass shrugged. “You guys looked pretty cozy all over Instagram the other night.”
“Yeah, because I’m doing the set design for a show she’s writing. Is that what you think? That I’m hooking up with Mia?”
Cass looked into the brown eyes she’d always known and trusted. Leo looked back with an expression that seemed to be wondering whether he could trust her.
“I don’t know what to think anymore,” she said, finally. “You come back after your fabulous summer away, and suddenly nothing I do is right. My Sigma stuff didn’t matter this much to you last year.”
“Last year was different.”
“How?”
“It just was. You’re one of those pretty white-dressed sorority girls now. What are you doing still hanging around a guy like me?”
“A guy like you has everybody lining up to hang out with him.”
Leo shook his head with a look that told her to get real. “Remember in high school? There was a whole group of people who were just sort of off-limits. I’d joke around with them, they’d tolerate me, but all they really saw was a tattooed geek with a decent sense of humor—a stereotype. There was a line. Nobody had to draw it because we all just knew it was there. Now you’re crossing it.”
“You hate being stereotyped, but you’re doing it, too,” Cass said. “And the fact that you think I’d cross some stupid imaginary line is insulting. It shows how little you know me. How little you notice.”
“I notice more than you think.”
“That’s bull,” Cass shot back. “Because if you don’t know by now how I feel about you, then you’re the blindest, most ignorant ass there is.”
“Hey, you kids!” came a voice from across the bar. It was Mr. Delaney with three longnecks in each hand. “Are you working or falling in love over there? I need help!”
They stood looking at each other, Leo for once at a loss for words. Cass sniffed, fighting back tears. “This tray is stupid heavy.”
“Deliver those,” Leo said, nodding at the drinks on the tray. “Then go warm up the crowd before the band comes back.”
She dropped off the drinks, dodging the drunk frat guy, who’d decided that instead of Jägermeister he’d rather have a handful of her ass. Then she took off her apron and waded over to the empty stage. A wave of excitement rippled up as she hoisted herself onto the platform, but when people realized it was just her and not the Headless Denvers starting a new set, most of them went back to their drinks. Only those closest to the stage continued to pay attention.
She picked up the guitar left by the Denvers’ lead singer, strummed a couple of chords, and tried to think of what to sing. An old ballad bubbled up out of her heartache. It was one of Mr. Delaney’s favorites, and it put to words what Cass feared the most. It didn’t matter if no one else listened. The song was for Leo.
Aye fond kiss and then we sever,
Aye farewell, alas, forever . . .
As she sang, she watched people from around the room stop their conversations to listen. It was like opening a part of herself that she’d sealed tight and forgotten. This was where she belonged. Onstage she didn’t care who her friends were, what she looked like, or whether she had some special sorority seal of approval. When Cass Ryland sang, no one could ever call her subpar.
Jenn stood up from the table by the wall, put her fingers in her mouth and whistled while the others waved their arms back and forth in time to the song. When she finished, everybody burst into applause.
“When are you getting your own night?” a girl asked as she came down from the stage. “I’d come out just to hear you.”
“Ask Mr. Delaney,” Cass answered. “Right now I only serve the drinks.”
And it was a good thing she did because back at the bar, Leo was lost in his thoughts, one hand resting on the lid of a neglected blender of what appeared to be margaritas.
“You’re getting behind on the orders,” said Cass. She stepped in front of the machine and started blending while Leo continued to watch her. “What do we need?”
“One white Russian, two appletinis, and one nuclear kamikaze.”
“A what?” Cass threw her hands up in frustration. “I don’t even . . .”
“I’ll make it. It’s for your friend Jäger boy. I could make him a hot fudge sundae with whipped cream and he’d never know the difference.”
They worked side by side, Cass still battling an enormous urge to cry. Her emotions had been so close to the surface all week that she worried about turning into the weeping barmaid, getting tears in everybody’s beer.
“You were amazing up there,” Leo said as he salted the margarita glasses. “As always. Sorry if I’ve been a dick lately. I just really missed you this week.”
“Well from now on I’ll be around more,” said Cass. “’Cause it turns out you were right. I’m pretty much miserable at Sigma. Tick-tick boom.” She made her fingers do a halfhearted starburst. “Happy?”
“It doesn’t make me happy to see you miserable.”
“But here’s something you will like. I almost brought the system down from the inside. I tried to lead a mini-revolution. But it didn’t take.”
Leo smiled, a truly adorable smile that brought out the dimple in his cheek and made his brown eyes crinkle at the edges. Cass had missed that smile. So much.
“You know what?” he said. “If it means that much, maybe it’s not something you should just quit.”
“Am I hearing correctly? I thought you hated all things Greek.”
“I hate anything that might take you away from me,” Leo admitted. “I think I really might be a dick in that regard.”
“You’re not a dick. And the sorority isn’t taking me away.”
“Not yet,” said Leo.
“Not ever.”
“Hey!” someone shouted. “Where’s my Irish car bomb?”
Cass blushed as Leo hurried to pour his margaritas. “Okay then,” he said. “Let’s divide and conquer. I’ll take this end of the bar; you take the other end.”
It didn’t take long to realize that Leo had gotten the better end of the bargain. A group of Delta Zetas and some guys in lacrosse jackets had camped out where the bar curved into the wall. Delta Zetas were just under Beta Phis in the Greek hierarchy, and they were known for partying hard. One of them seemed hell-bent on taking that reputation to a whole new level as she lolled on her barstool, slurring her speech. She and her friends ordered daiquiris without even glancing in Cass’s direction, which probably should have bugged Cass but actually suited her just fine. That was one perk of not looking much like a sorority girl, no matter what Leo said: most of the time she didn’t even rate a sizing up.
She bent over to get the strawberry mix out of the mini-fridge and heard, “So what about Courtney and Aimee? Where are they?”
“All the Sigmas are locked in. Just like the rushees.”
Cass stiffened. She kept her head down, pretending to rummage while she strained to hear the rest of the conversation.
“So who’s the latest?” Drunk Girl said.
“Some girl named Madeleine Christopher. Just got a text from Courtney that it’s done over at Sigma.”
“We axed her, too,” came another voice.
“Mu Phi Alpha’s still voting—I’m texting them now.”
“Major waterworks at the dorm tomorrow,” Drunk Girl said with a giggle. “Imagine opening up your bids and finding out, oops! You don’t have any.”
The other girls laughed. Cass sloshed some daiquiri mix and rum together and plopped the glasses onto the bar. Then she rushed back to the other end and grabbed Leo by his shirt.
“Leo! Switch with me!”
“What?” he said. “Why?”
“I think my mini-revolution might be back on. See those girls over there?” Cass pointed. “Go talk to them and see if you can get in on what they’re doing.”
Leo observed the Delta Zetas and wrinkled his nose. “No offense, but I don’t really think I want to get in on whatever they’re doing.”
“I don’t mean it that way!” Cass smacked him in the arm. “They’re up to something with rush, I’m positive. If you want to stand up to all those stereotypes, then this is your chance.”
Leo considered this. Cass could see the spark lighting in his eyes.
“For the revolution?” he said.
“For the revolution.”
He headed over to where the Delta Zetas sat, and she waited, trying to distract herself by seeing how many orders she could remember at once. The job got a lot easier when the band came back and people rushed the stage. Half of the barstools went empty, giving her a chance to get caught up with empties and to think. She remembered high school—the way Leo flitted from group to group but always came back to her. The way they’d shared a world almost all to themselves. Cass had never imagined that, under all his confident easiness, he might actually be afraid of losing her.
Leo came back as she was loading glasses into the dishwasher.
“Those girls are totally wasted,” he said.
“That’s all you’ve got?” Cass wiped her hands on her apron. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
“How about this?” He held up an iPhone in a hot-pink case.
“What is it?” Cass grabbed the phone from his hand.
“Don’t touch anything!” He snatched the phone back, checked the screen, and sighed with relief that nothing had been disturbed. “One girl just walked away and left this on the bar. Right in the middle of a text-a-thon, apparently. You’ll probably want to read the whole conversation, but there are a couple I thought you’d find especially interesting. Isn’t there a girl in your house named Courtney Mann?”
When Cass realized what Leo was saying she took the phone again and started scrolling through a text conversation that looked like it had been going on for the past several days. Her heart beat faster when Courtney’s name appeared.
Courtney Mann
Victim #1: Rachel Morgan—STW
STW apparently stood for “spread the word” because that’s just what happened, until the various recipients started sending messages confirming that Rachel Morgan had been cut from their houses, too.
On it went, day after day, with other girls tossing in names of rushees they didn’t like. The net effect was a giant digital blackball pool. Not only would the rushees in question not get bids at the houses where someone didn’t like them, they also would get cut from a ton of other houses, too.
Cass scrolled forward until the posts were from Pref Night. And there it was:
Courtney Mann
Madeleine Christopher—STW
Cass looked up at Leo while her brain processed what she’d just discovered.
“I have to show this to Delia . . . I mean, the house president. She didn’t believe me when I told her this was going on . . .”
She was gasping, trying to get the words out as she tugged the strings of her apron. One hand struggled to undo the knot, while the other one gripped the iPhone like the precious proof it was.
Leo met her at the end of the bar. He took off her apron and tossed it over his shoulder.
“I’ll finish up here,” he told her. “You go. Be the change!”
“Thank you!” she said, leaning over for a kiss that was supposed to be on the cheek but landed on the soft, full lips she’d always told herself she could never have. A shot of heat raced through her body. She pulled away, aware she was probably blushing from her toes to the roots of her hair.
She took a step backward.
“Wait a minute,” said Leo. He reached for her hand, pulling her back.
This time there was no mistake—he meant it on the lips. And not just a quick peck, but a long, slow, delicious kiss. Cass had to force herself to pull away because it was as amazing as she’d always imagined it would be, and she knew that if she let herself stay there she’d never leave.
“I’m thinking we should have done that a long time ago,” Leo said.
Cass shoved him lightly, trying for a joke.
“You say that to all the girls.”
“No, I’m saying it to you. When you’re done saving the world, get back here, okay? We have a lot of catching up to do.”
She nodded, stepping out of his arms and into the crowd. “You’re amazing!” Leo shouted as she pushed to the front door. Cass smiled as she made her way past Jack the bouncer and the line of people milling around outside. Once on the sidewalk, she tucked the phone inside her purse and started running to the Sigma house.
Is this just a coworker party? Because it feels like it could be a lot more.
Imogen had been asking herself this question all night—this, and its close relative, So does Ben really have a girlfriend anymore? As the hours went by it looked more and more like the answer to that second question might be no. He hung around while she drank beer with Kathryn. He hung around while she beat Yusef at Mario Kart. And he hung out while she did a karaoke-style version of “Dirty Laundry” with the sports staff. Not once did he mention Delia Danforth or anything even remotely related to having a significant other of any kind. Imogen couldn’t think of a good way to ask. So she’d stayed quiet and simply wondered when Ben did things like sit extra close or rush to fill her cup before she’d even emptied it.
“You’re pretty incredible,” he said after she’d won a particularly raunchy round of Cards Against Humanity. “You know that, don’t you?”
She couldn’t bring herself to come up with some cutesy answer.
“I’m not sure how to take that,” she told him.
“Take it however you want.” He looked at her in a way that said he wasn’t flirting at all, which made her nervous. She’d had too much beer, it was late, and she knew she shouldn’t be getting into anything she might regret later.
“I need to get back to the dorm. I’m supposed to be on lockdown.”
“I’ll walk you.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Of course I do,” he said. “Believe it or not, strangers do snatch pretty girls off the streets of midwestern college towns.”
“But I’m wondering if I should be concerned about the present company.”
He put his beer on the mantel, put a hand to her back, and started guiding her toward the door.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll be a complete gentleman.”
They walked together down the front steps, past couples smoking and making out, to the sidewalk. “So I’m willing to bet you haven’t been to many parties like that,” he said as they turned toward campus. From back inside the house they heard a crash, followed by drunken laughter. He winced. “And you’re probably thinking that’s a good thing.”
“I liked it,” said Imogen. “Really.”
“Not all our parties are as crazy as tonight. I mean, we are capable of being civilized. Just maybe not as civilized as you’re used to, considering where you come from—”
“Okay,” Imogen interrupted. “Rule number one for walking me home: Stop talking like I’m a Park Avenue princess. I can go to a keg party without tarnishing my tiara, and in case you didn’t notice, I left my Louboutins at home.”
“Touché,” he said. “I guess I’m just still trying to figure you out.”
“What’s there to figure?”
“Well for one thing, you’re at Baldwin instead of someplace like—”
“You’re at the corner of Seventy-Fifth and Madison. Park Avenue Princessland is due east—just a warning.”
“Okay, okay!” he said. “You and Baldwin? You’re like peanut butter and jelly. Milk and cereal. But the whole Greek thing and the Beacon . . .”
“You’re Greek and you do both.”
“It’s just that two days ago I would have pegged you for dropping out of rush. But here it is almost Bid Day and you’re still in it.”
She reached up to a branch that hung over the sidewalk and pulled off a leaf as they walked. “I guess I spoke too soon when I put the whole thing down.”
“So you’re excited about bids tomorrow? All that ‘death sentence’ stuff was just a joke?”
“No . . .” Imogen said. “I was serious about that.”
To get back to the dorms they had to walk down part of Fraternity Row, where the houses were lit with spotlights that made the windows look like eyes. Imogen read the letters above the doors as they passed.
“Omega Tau Epsilon,” she said when they reached a house that looked like an old English manor. “Isn’t that you?”
“Yep,” said Ben. “That’s home.”
And next door—her heart sank.
Sigma.
“Do you want to know a secret?” she asked.
“Sure,” he replied.
“I did find a couple of houses I like, but they’re not where I’m going to end up.” She pointed. “I’m supposed to pledge this one. My mom was a Sigma. So was my grandmother and my great-grandmother.”
Ben gazed at the big white house with its pillars and red front door. “Ah, the Sigmas. I know them well.”
Imogen waited for him to complete that thought—to tell her about Delia. Even if they’d broken up, he owed her the truth. And not because she’d been investigating him. She wanted to hear him say it, unprompted.
He stopped walking and faced her. “Take your family out of this for a minute. If it wasn’t for your mom and the others, would you really want to be a Sigma?”
“No,” she said. Telling the truth felt good. “But I don’t really have a choice.”
He was standing so close she could almost feel his breath. He wanted to kiss her; she was positive he did. And, as if to confirm it, he reached out and took her hand. She let her eyes drift shut . . .
“Ben!”
The shout came from above—a girl’s voice floating down through the branches.
Imogen stepped back, searching over her shoulder just as a second girl came bolting up the sidewalk, waving her arms.
“Delia!” the other girl shouted. “Wait!”
The girl was shouting at the Sigma house—at something up high. Imogen and Ben followed her gaze, up past the pillared porch, and there, standing in a third-story window, was Delia Danforth.
Cass’s first thought when she looked up at the window was that the stories were true—Sigma really was haunted, and there was the proof: a girl in the window looking down at the street below. But then it hit her that this girl had short dark hair instead of the long strawberry-blond curls of Marianne McCourt.
“Delia!” Cass shouted. “What are you doing?”
Two seconds later she knew exactly what Delia was doing because she’d nearly collided with Delia’s boyfriend, Ben, who was standing on the sidewalk in suspiciously close proximity to none other than Delia’s star rushee.
Ben looked up and saw Delia, too. He let go of Imogen and started toward the house. Delia turned and disappeared from the window.
Cass changed course and ran up to Ben.
“What the hell is this?” she said. “And why are you two here of all places?”
Seconds later, the door of the Sigma house flew open and Delia ran out, down the porch steps and onto the lawn.
“Dee . . .” said Ben, but Delia didn’t answer. Instead, she pushed past him and stopped in front of Imogen.
“Imogen Ash?” said Delia, her gray eyes wide. “Is that you?”
Imogen didn’t need Maddy or a recruitment rule book to tell her this wasn’t good. Nearly every day for the past four days she’d shaken hands with this girl and had been greeted by a confident smile. Now Delia stood before her, almost like a ghost in the moonlight, peering at her with wild, questioning eyes.
“Dee . . .” Ben put a hand on Delia’s arm, reaching over Imogen to do so. Imogen brought her own arm up and swatted his shoulder out of her face.
“Are you serious?” she said.
Ben kept his eyes on Delia.
“I’m sorry . . .” he said. “Imogen works with me. And things haven’t been good with us for a while, Dee. You know that.”
“Excuse me?” Imogen broke in. “All due respect and everything, but quit talking about me like I’m not standing right here.”
Ben continued to ignore her as he moved toward the stunned-looking Delia. “Maybe if we took a break for a while . . .”
Okay, this is going exactly nowhere—not to mention it’s completely humiliating.
Imogen pulled the long waves of her hair back with her fist. “You know what? Last I checked, I hadn’t developed the power to disappear. Nope, not transparent. Still standing right here.”
Ben turned, exasperated. “Imogen . . .” Hearing him speak her name like that made her realize how stupid she’d been to get caught up in some fantasy. She’d been acting like a love-struck idiot and now this was the consequence.
“Hey, Delia,” said the other girl. “Let’s go inside . . .”
The girl moved forward and got between Delia and Ben. She had masses of curly hair and a curvy figure, and in the streetlight Imogen recognized her as one of the sisters who’d interviewed her on the very first day of rush. “This isn’t the best place to be having this conversation,” the girl said to Delia, then pinned Imogen with another evil eye. “And some people shouldn’t even be outside right now.”
A weird silence took over, like they were all waiting for someone else to make a move. Imogen knew she should be the one to leave. Maybe if she went quietly no one would tell anyone she’d been out. She could pretend none of this had happened.
Except when you pledge Sigma, then you get the super-awkward distinction of being the First Year who moved in on the president’s boyfriend.
Finally, Delia broke the silence.
“Go,” she said to Ben.
“What? Dee . . . Can we at least talk about this?”
“Just leave.”
He searched Delia’s face, then he looked back at Imogen, who studied her shoes. She was too embarrassed and pissed off. She couldn’t look him in the eye.
“Fine,” said Ben. “I guess I’ll see you around.”
He stalked away, across the lawn to the OTE house, leaving Delia and Imogen face-to-face on the sidewalk.
Super awkward doesn’t even begin to describe this.
The other girl took Delia’s shoulder. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go in before anything else happens.”
And that’s when they saw it: another silhouette coming around the corner.
As soon as she saw the Sigma house, Maddy knew she’d been right all along. There they stood, together on the sorority lawn: Imogen, one of the Sigma sisters, and Delia Danforth, the house president.
She couldn’t believe how blatant they were.
“I knew it!” she shouted. “I knew this was where you were going.”
“Maddy,” said Imogen. “Listen, I know what this looks like . . .”
“Shut up!” said Maddy. “Just shut up. You don’t know anything.” She turned to Delia, out of breath but triumphant. Nobody could tell her she wasn’t seeing what was right in front of her nose. “Is this what you do with the girls you really want? Everybody else gets locked in at the dorms while the special ones get to come and hang out?”
Delia opened her mouth but no words came out. She looked more than a little freaked out. Well, Maddy would give her something to really freak out about.
“I’m going to report you,” she said. “I’m reporting all of you.”
“Maddy . . .” Imogen reached for her arm.
“No!” Maddy dodged so she couldn’t be touched. “You get everything, even if you don’t deserve it, Imogen. But that’s why there are rules, so people like me at least have a chance against people like you.”
“This isn’t about recruitment,” Delia said. “It isn’t about you.”
“You’re right,” said Maddy. “It’s about all the girls who never get a chance because you’re giving other people special treatment. Well this is dirty rushing, and I’m going to report it.”
The whole time she’d been talking, the third girl had been standing to the side, half-hidden in the shadow of a tree. Now she moved into the streetlight.
“Come on, Maddy,” said the girl. “I know you’re upset, but at least sleep on it before you do something we’re all going to regret.”
Maddy squinted into the girl’s face and a fresh wave of anger hit. It was the sister from the party that afternoon. The one who’d basically told her she didn’t have a chance at Sigma.
“I’m going to Greek Council,” Maddy repeated, backing away. “You’re not getting away with this.”
Before anybody could say anything to make her doubt herself again, she turned and ran. She could hear Imogen calling her name, but that just made her run faster.
Cass watched Madeleine Christopher disappear into the night with Imogen Ash on her heels. She brought her hands to her shoulders, rubbing her arms against a chill that had crept into the air. Her head hurt and her skin felt like hundreds of little pins were pricking through her clothes. She felt like she was in shock. Delia almost certainly was; she stood next to Cass looking dazed.
“Delia,” said Cass. “Let’s go inside now.”
She quickly texted Leo that she would see him in the morning, then she led Delia up the walk to the front porch. As their feet touched the first step she heard the skittering of pebbles on the roof. They both stopped and turned to the stars, which looked like glittering dust on black velvet. One big star arced across the sky, burning brilliantly for a minute before disappearing. Cass wondered: Was it falling or just making its way to a better place?
Whichever it was, she made a wish.