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  Lindy and Hannah were off to one side, sitting on the floor with their legs out in front of them and their backs against one of the barrels. I walked straight through the party and handed each of them a bottle of water and opened another one for myself.

  "Drink up," I said, the words fuzzy in my mouth. I had to shout to hear myself over all the hoo-ha.

  "What is it?" Lindy strained to read the bottle’s logo in the dim light.

  "Your own bottle of champagne. It's a new one, without bubbles."

  "Sweet," she said, eagerly opening it.

  Hannah sipped hers and smacked her lips. "Mmm," she nodded.

  "Yummy," Lindy added.

  "Num num," Hannah laughed. The two of them laughed together, repeating "num num" in sing-song voices.

  "Do we know what time it is?" I interrupted, sitting down next to them. “I wonder how long we’ll be here.”

  Lindy lifted her arms to show me bare wrists. "I lost my watch. It's somewhere," she shifted her gaze to the mass before us.

  "You don't wear a watch," I reminded her.

  "Mine," Hannah said, lifting her arm to angle it toward me. "Mine says this."

  “That’s a bracelet.”

  She looked down with an adoring gaze. “Oh, yeah. My favorite. Never take it off.”

  The commotion in the center of the room seemed to grow, and I leaned my head back against the barrel behind us. "How are we going to keep up with these girls?" I asked.

  "What?" Lindy leaned toward me, nearly tipping over.

  "These girls! They drink hard!" I shouted.

  "Yes," she said, and I wondered if she heard me.

  "What's happening?" Hannah interjected, staring at the mob of colorful dresses directly in front of us.

  Our pledge sisters had stopped dancing and were all crowded together. A handful of actives seemed to be trying to organize the group, and once they managed to get everyone to step back and give space, I could see a girl in a bright turquoise dress lying in a heap on the ground.

  "Oh no," Hannah cringed, sensing the emergency.

  "Someone hurt?" Lindy said.

  Within seconds, actives swooped in and scooped the girl up. Whoever it was, she was completely limp. Her limbs dangled and swayed as they stealthily carried her away through a set of double doors in the back corner of the room.

  The music never stopped, and the lights never came on.

  "Who's that?" Hannah slurred.

  "Was she okay?" I asked, knowing neither of them was actually going to answer.

  Lindy scrunched her face in concentration. "Kimmy?"

  "Kimmy?" I repeated.

  "Her dress," Lindy said, as if it was an explanation.

  "Cammie," Hannah mumbled, tilting her head against her barrel and closing her eyes. "Cammie ruined her dress."

  "The Idaho girl from our lunch table?" I asked. She'd been with us in the limo, too.

  Neither of them responded.

  "Where'd they go?" Lindy wondered, staring at the closed set of double doors. The party had started up again, and girls were back on the dance floor, standing and swaying on the same spot where she'd just fallen.

  "Away," Hannah mumbled.

  I wanted to get up to inspect, but I didn’t trust my jello-y legs to navigate through the pulsing crowd. "I think something's wrong, you guys," I said.

  Neither of them answered. The three of us sat in silence, drinking water, until the music stopped and the lights came on.

  During the car ride back, most of the other girls passed out in the limo. Awkwardly enough, the two girls who’d snagged the strippers brought them into the same car as us. They closed their eyes too, obviously tired from all the cardio they’d performed.

  Though, there was one girl who remained alert, watching out the window the whole time with her head leaning against the glass. Her arms were limply crossed at her chest.

  I recognized her from some other part of the day, but I couldn’t place it. Had she been at my lunch table? Was her room near mine? Before I could figure it out, I got distracted.

  On the back side of her hand was a trail of blood about four inches long. I was about to tell her she was bleeding and see if she needed help, when the limo turned and a street lamp illuminated the inside of our car. With better light, I could see it wasn’t her blood; it was someone else’s wiped on her like a smear of finger-paint.

  I tried to nudge Lindy and Hannah but both of them were too out of it to open their eyes. When I turned, the girl had changed positions so her arm was at her side, where it stayed for the rest of the ride back.

  After dreaming of drunk zombies staggering after me, I woke up still sticky from the layers of sweat I collected bumping and swaying into everyone the night before. My throat ached from all the shouting, my hair was matted and tangled, and my make-up was smeared all over me and my pillow. I was lucky my hangover wasn’t worse.

  I thought about searching for Lindy and Hannah and telling them what I saw in the limo, but I didn’t know where their beds were. Instead, I dragged myself into the bathroom for a shower and then downstairs for breakfast. There I found a dozen or so of my pledge sisters scattered around the tables, in clumps of two or three or four. Some still had wet hair and had put on jeans and t-shirts like me, while some still wore their pajamas. One had her same dress on from the night before, a cute, strappy purple one. Most of them looked worse than I felt, and more than one was grimacing at the sunlight streaming in through the windows.

  At first, the conversation was pleasant, with girls gossiping about what the strippers had done on the dance floor, and what they’d done with the girls who’d brought them home. It slowly switched to who had not held their alcohol well, whose dresses were the cutest, and who had the worst hangover. Eventually, someone mentioned Cammie.

  "Did she come back to the party?" one girl, a fellow redhead, ventured.

  "I never saw her," someone else said.

  "Her closet is in the same room as my desk. I don’t think she came home last night.”

  "Her bed was empty."

  "Seriously?"

  A tense silence blanketed our tables. I gulped a bite of my bagel. "Where do you think they took her?" I asked to no one in particular.

  None of the girls had an answer.

  I considered telling them about the blood I saw on the girl in my limo, but I hesitated. It had been dark and I was buzzed from all the champagne. It all happened so quickly, I wasn’t sure what I’d seen.

  Upstairs, I found one of the twins lounging on the couch in our room, casually flipping through a magazine. She informed me that Exec had called an impromptu pledge meeting for lunchtime, and my attendance was mandatory.

  “Exec?” I questioned.

  “The Executive Board,” she explained. I must have still looked puzzled because she clarified, “Sister President, the VPs, and the Past President.”

  “Oh. Are impromptu meetings a normal thing?” I asked, opening my closet and pulling out a sweatshirt.

  “Yep. I’d try not to worry if I was you.”

  I waited for her to continue, but she dismissed me by tipping her head back down to her magazine. “I didn’t say I was worried,” I said to her forehead.

  She didn’t respond.

  By the time I found Lindy at lunchtime, I was bursting. "That girl never came back after the party and someone in our limo had blood on her hands, literally,” I greeted her, sliding into the chair on her right and setting my plate down. With her head in her hands and her elbows on the table, she looked up at me helplessly, cringing like the simplest movement of her head was enough to make her sick.

  "Oh," I said knowingly.

  "I know," she croaked. "Never again."

  "We need to work on your ability to hold alcohol," I said. "Or, we should cut back. Or both."

  "Hey, I held it. I wish I hadn't, but I did," she said, her eyelids drooping. In front of her sat a plate with a piece of bread and apple slices, untouched.

  "Do you remember t
hat you thought the bottle of water I gave you was fizz-less champagne?"

  "Seriously?"

  "I promise you."

  "I had a bottle of water and I still feel like death?"

  "Would I make that up?"

  "Champagne is the damn devil," Hannah joined us.

  "You're telling me," my best friend shook her head.

  "Is it always like this? It was only the first night," I asked.

  Hannah shrugged, "I heard everyone's an alcoholic for the first week."

  Sister President interrupted us to open the meeting, once again by tapping a glass. She was positioned at the front of the room, watching and waiting for everyone to quiet down.

  The bloody-hand girl from our limo stood at her side. I felt my eyes widen at the sight of her, but I didn’t dare say anything.

  "How are we all doing today? Do we all have lunch?" Sister President said effervescently, clasping her hands together and holding them just under her chin. “Are we all enjoying our first full day in the Iota Beta house?"

  "Yes, Sister President," we chorused. I wondered if she could smell the stench of alcohol radiating from our group.

  "I'm so glad to hear it. Girls, yesterday I introduced you to Kayla, our Vice President of New Member Development. Kayla will be working closely with Jenna, our immediate Past President, on guiding you through the pledge process."

  Kayla was an officer. So, that’s why I recognized her. She’d stood up in front of everyone at our fancy lunch.

  Sister President hesitated briefly before straightening up and smiling brightly. "Kayla's office is one of the most important ones in all of Iota Beta since it's her job to make sure all of you learn the ins and outs of our sorority. She'll be teaching at all of your New Member meetings, and she's also overseeing a number of your other activities during your Pledge period…"

  "Does last night's shit show count as an activity?" Hannah said under her breath.

  I stifled a giggle as Kayla eyed us.

  Sister President was still talking, "....and I hope all of you consider Kayla, and Jenna too, once she's back from the other, um, chapter business she's attending to, as your newest friends. Should you have any questions or concerns or if you just want someone to talk to, they’re totally here for you."

  Sister President stepped down, giving Kayla the floor. She stood silently while our leader exited the dining room. As soon as the door closed behind Sister President, Kayla's eyes narrowed.

  Her voice was barely above a whisper. "Forget your parents. Forget your brothers and sisters. Forget your friends from home and your boyfriends. We’re your family now.”

  SEVEN

  The next time I left the IB house was when classes began that following Monday. Up until then, it was nearly nonstop meetings, history lessons, practice tests, song rehearsals and bonding time. I was so exhausted from breathing, eating, sleeping Iota Beta, the idea of starting college-level coursework for the first time ever seemed somewhat refreshing.

  When it came to going to class, we were "highly encouraged" to wear our bid day shirts since it increased Iota Beta's presence on campus. We were also cautioned that when we wore our sacred letters, the rest of our appearance needed to be up to the same caliber. This meant full make-up, designer jeans, painted nails, and cute underwear, obviously. It was extremely important that if our jeans went low in the back when we sat down, we had something to show for it. Seriously.

  Regardless of how tall of an order that was, I obliged like a good pledge. I got up early for my class, dug my make-up out of my bag for the first time since Bid Day, borrowed a pair of nice jeans from Lindy, and even let her curl my hair. As much as I hated to admit it, once I got to campus I realized I felt secure knowing I looked at least okay for my first day of college. Since I was upholding the unofficial IB appearance standards, I actually didn't mind the four attractive guys in my English Composition class. Though, none of them were as cute as my rose guy, who I kept a watch for the whole time I was on campus, with no luck.

  My first college classroom was almost identical to the orchestra room from my high school, with flat white walls, a whiteboard, and stadium seating for about sixty students. Most of my classmates had already arrived by the time I got there, so I chose one of the few open seats left near the back.

  I slowly unloaded my laptop from my bag and hooked my jacket around the back of my chair, wondering if there was anything else I was supposed to be doing.

  Within seconds, the girl next to me leaned over.

  "Are you in Iota Beta?" she asked, nodding at my shirt. She looked about twelve years old, with wildly curly hair the color of chocolate milk, and dark eyes hidden under low eyebrows. Her face was clear of make-up, though she still managed to appear bright-eyed. She obviously wasn’t trying to get used to a sleeping porch still.

  "I'm pledging," I clarified, tugging at my t-shirt.

  She sat back up. "My mom and grandma were in Iota Beta."

  "Oh, really?"

  "Yep," she nodded.

  "That's cool," I said.

  "Yeah," she blurted out. "I mean, kinda. I mean, it's fine. I thought about joining, but I don't think sororities are for me. I write for the school paper instead."

  I nodded sympathetically. Or, at least I tried to. "I almost didn't rush but my best friend swore up and down I'd be missing out if I didn't."

  "She did?"

  I immediately felt bad, like I was rubbing it in or something. "I mean, she thought that would be the case. I don't know though, it's too early to tell."

  "How is it so far?"

  I thought about how awesome it was to live with Lindy, of Hannah and how she was already a close friend, of how good the food was, of how crazy and scary that first night had been, and how my pledge sisters and I already had inside jokes about the neon G-strings the strippers had worn. Then, I remembered Cammie hadn't been seen since she'd collapsed on the first night, and I’d just sat through days and days of boring history lessons. "It's okay," I answered her honestly.

  "That's good," she said in the same tone of voice someone would use to say, “my cat died.” She tilted her head and pushed her chapped lips together.

  After class I headed back to the IB house for lunch, where I found many of my equally-dolled-up pledge sisters already seated in the dining room. Even with our different shades of hair and skin, we managed to look similar. Tight jeans, snug tee-shirts, push-up bras, glossed lips. Turns out, Lindy had done a few rounds of hair-curling that morning. I asked the table, "Do we always need to dress-up like this? I mean, cause now anyone paying any attention saw that I'm an IB. If I come to class in a cute skirt and sweater, or if I'm hungover in sweats, they'll still know I'm an IB."

  "Why would you be wearing sweats in public?" Tasha, my closet roommate, wondered with genuine curiosity.

  After dinner, we all gathered for another pledge meeting in the library. Kayla passed around a tray of cookies to celebrate our first day of class.

  "Calories don't count the first week of college," she said, with a hint of humor. Her lips wavered as she nearly smiled at us. Lindy, Hannah, and I had a bet to see how long it took her to actually show her teeth and so far, this was the closest we'd gotten.

  "This balances out the thirty hours of torture we've undergone this past week," Hannah said through a mouthful of cookie.

  "Torture?" Lindy said skeptically. "Pledge education happens at every sorority, I can promise you."

  "It's been a lot, though," I agreed with Hannah. We were getting back our Founders pre-test scores and reviewing for the Values pre-test scheduled for two days out. Our pledge meetings had gone from daily to every other day, though Jenna had yet to appear at any of them.

  Kayla spent most of the meeting lecturing us on the coat of arms, though at some point after she told us what each color meant, I began to get distracted. She was standing in front of the grand fireplace, and I could have sworn I saw a tiny crack right in the middle of it. It was no more than an inch long, with a l
ittle strip of light shining through.

  Okay, I don't know much about chimneys, but I'm pretty sure they're not normally full of light. Especially at nine at night.

  I waited until Kayla had her back to us, and I tugged on Lindy's fleece. "Do you see that?"

  "Pledge Jill, no talking," Kayla said flatly.

  "How did she do that?" Lindy whispered, to which I shrugged. I mimed to Lindy like I was writing so she was ready for the note I scribbled to her.

  It said, Do you see that tiny light behind her in the fireplace wall?

  No, she wrote back. I passed it to Hannah, who shook her head.

  I wrote to both of them, Look when she moves. It's behind her shoulder.

  We tried to linger after class so I could show them but since some of our pledge sisters stayed behind to brown-nose, we had no choice but to leave. We went to my closet room which was empty except for us, as always.

  I explained what I saw, realizing that the more I described it, the more my excitement grew. Obviously, it was the secret room, right? My friends had to believe me.

  They both stared at me blankly.

  "Light coming in through the fireplace?" Lindy said. "Are you sure it wasn't just glare?"

  "I'm positive. It was a straight strip, like a mini door that wasn't all the way closed."

  Hannah scrunched her face. "I didn't see it, and I was literally counting the bricks in the fireplace to keep myself from falling asleep. That was dull as shit."

  My shoulders slumped with the realization that my friends were not nearly as excited as I was about the prospect of finding a secret room.

  "You've read too many Harry Potters," Lindy continued.

  "There's only seven," I said sharply.

  "Still," Hannah said.

  "Maybe it was the angle," Lindy offered diplomatically. "Where were you sitting? If the gap was that small, someone would need to be in just the right spot to see it. You might be the only one who could tell it was there."

  "What are you, a Physics major?" Hannah asked her.

  Lindy shrugged, "I'm still thinking Bio, for pre-med."