Rush Page 2

  “What if none of them invite you?”

  Maddy blinked. “I don’t know, and I’m not planning on finding out.”

  Sighing, Imogen put her schedule away. Rush hadn’t even officially started, and already she could tell it was going to be dull, dull, dull.

  “So I heard this house is haunted,” a girl behind her said.

  Imogen’s ears perked up. Now this wasn’t dull. She glanced over at Maddy, who raised an eyebrow.

  “I heard it, too,” said somebody else in their group. “Some girl fell out a window.”

  “Are you talking about Bloody Mary?” This came from yet another girl. “She didn’t fall; she jumped. My brother’s an Alpha Rho Tau, and he was a freshman when it happened. He said the room where she jumped is sealed off. But supposedly you can still see her in the window.”

  “Hey!” Alex, their recruitment counselor, appeared, almost like a ghost herself. “I don’t mean to be a Debbie Downer, but that’s probably not a topic you want to bring up. Keep the conversation on positive topics. Chat about your summer jobs or your charity work!”

  Imogen peered over Alex’s head at a window on the third floor of the sorority. She let her gaze travel down the front of the house to the steps and the sidewalk beneath their feet. She had a vision of a girl lying there, the blood from her body matching the red of the door.

  Imogen looked up again, just in time to catch what looked like a flash in the window. It was probably just the sun glinting on the glass, but she could have sworn, if only for a second, that she saw a girl in white gazing down on them as they got ready to start the first party of rush.

  FOUR

  “Eleven minutes until we open, ladies! Eleven minutes!”

  Cass shifted from one foot to the other as Delia Danforth paced back and forth across the sorority house foyer, barking last-minute orders. Outside on the lawn the crowd had grown bigger, each girl hoping by week’s end to wear the Sigma star around her neck. Cass could practically feel their nervous energy through the red front door. And behind her, she could feel the heat of her sorority sisters, all sixty of them, crammed between the parlor archway and the grand staircase.

  “Nine minutes!” Delia shouted. “Make sure you’re in your correct places. And if you’ve been assigned a rushee, please be sure you’re ready to greet her when I call out her name!” Delia turned, fixing Cass with eyes the color of a computer or a bullet or some other scarily focused, super-mechanical instrument as she checked to make sure Cass had ditched her phone. “Cassandra. Are you ready?”

  “Ready,” Cass mumbled. It was time to put her lovesick heart on ice; Leo either wasn’t back in town yet, or he’d decided to wait and call later.

  “What was that?” said Delia.

  “I’m ready,” Cass answered, more clearly this time.

  “Good.” Delia moved on, stooping to pick up a speck of paper from the Oriental rug.

  Cass shifted again. Her espadrilles were too small. She’d waited until the very last minute to buy her party costumes—a different theme for each day of the week, and by the time she got around to getting shoes for today’s Southwestern party, all of the shops were selling boots, sneakers, and closed-toe pumps for winter. She’d found what had to be the last pair of espadrilles available online, and now her big toes screamed as they threatened to pop through the canvas. The sleeves of her Mexican-style dress were tight, too, while the rest of the fabric billowed out, making her look like a walking tent. Whoever made the damned thing obviously intended it for skinny girls only.

  Or maybe Cass just wanted to blame her agony on something other than the fact that she really, really did not want to be there right now.

  She glanced over her shoulder at her Sigma sisters, who stood in formation like the honeycomb of a beehive. Normally as a second year, Cass would be standing with them, just a worker bee helping gather up the honey. But through a sick twist of fate involving a Malaysian scuba trip, the bends, and a doctor’s order that Leith McClendon, a third year, would not be able to fulfill her duties as Sigma’s official music leader, Cass stood at the front, a gatekeeper bee. When the red door opened, the sisters would swarm onto the porch, singing and clapping. They would arrange themselves behind Cass once again, and then the rushees would come forward. Cass’s job, in addition to keeping her sisters on key and on tempo, was to make sure the right rushees got paired with the right sisters using an elaborate system that helped ensure Sigma would snag the most attractive, the most accomplished—the most Sigma—of all the Sigma hopefuls for this year’s pledge class.

  From deep inside the formation, Cass’s roommate, Ruby, caught her eye and waved, one of just a few brown faces in the group. This was all Ruby’s fault. She had nominated Cass for music leader back in the spring, because Cass was a voice major and actually knew a thing or two about music. But Leith got the spot instead and Cass had made deputy, which mostly meant directing the Sigma anthem at chapter meetings on nights when Leith couldn’t make it.

  Then Leith went deep-sea diving and came back at the end of the summer a staggering, mumbling mess. Sigma couldn’t have a Music Leader with decompression sickness, and Cass had attended the meetings where they’d demonstrated the all-important hostess system, so when everybody returned to campus for recruitment week, Delia had moved her up to the head of the hive.

  “You’ll do a great job,” Ruby had said after Delia delivered the news. “You’re a good person, Cass. This place needs you.”

  Back in the foyer, Ruby winked through the turquoise and fuchsia hair bows that stood up from the other sisters’ heads like antennae. Ruby—so idealistic, and so completely blind to what really mattered at Sigma Theta Kappa, which most definitely was not being a good person. As if to prove it, Courtney Mann, Sigma’s vice president, scooted over just enough to block Ruby off. She puffed out her cheeks and pushed up the end of her nose, making a piggish face until she was certain Cass had noticed. Then she nudged her favorite sidekick, Aimee Wu, and the two of them snickered. Cass clenched her fists and looked away. All she wanted was to get through the week, do her job, and then get on with her life. Responding to Courtney would only invite trouble.

  “Okay, ladies!” Delia shouted, pulling everyone’s focus back to the head of the room. “Let’s take these last few minutes to review the rules. Number one.” She held up a finger. “No smoking on the front or side porches or anyplace else where a rushee might see. That’s not the image we want to present.”

  A couple of girls groaned behind Cass, who could sympathize even though she wouldn’t have been caught dead smoking. The next few days were going to be stressful and everybody deserved a little relief, even if their particular relaxation method did pose a massive cancer risk.

  “Number two: no conversations with rushees about drinking or fraternity parties. Remember, a Sigma is always discreet.”

  Delia brought her free hand to her throat, fingering the lavaliere there, and Cass couldn’t help noticing the chapter pin just a few inches away on her chest. It gleamed next to a bigger pin, which everybody knew belonged to Delia’s boyfriend, the president next door at Omega Tau Epsilon. They were the campus power couple—what Cass imagined Barbie and Ken would be like with perfect GPAs and a future in world domination.

  “Number three,” Delia went on, “Every rushee should feel welcome here, even if you know they’re ultimately not Sigma material. And number four—this is the most important of all—no contact of any kind with rushees outside of official recruitment parties.”

  Heads were nodding. If any rule had been drilled into them it was that one. The Greek Council called fraternization outside of rush parties “dirty rushing” because it created an unfair advantage to both the rushee and the sorority. Just the year before, a Sigma sister had been caught doing it. The incident still hung over the house in the form of added scrutiny from the council. It also lingered in ways Cass didn’t like to think about because they made her feel like a stranger in what was supposed to be her home a
way from home. She glanced around at the other girls in her pledge class—the ones who’d joined Sigma at the same time. They were all victims of what had happened during recruitment last year, even though they rarely talked about it; it was simply too painful to discuss.

  “Finally . . .” Delia checked her watch before maneuvering to the phone desk and pulling a folder out of a top drawer. She held up a thin stack of eight-by-ten color printouts. “Let’s review our top prospects. Who do we want?”

  She held up the first photo—a brunette with a mouth that would make a dental hygienist proud.

  “Tasha Coates!” the sisters shouted in unison.

  “And this one?” A girl with white-blond hair and an upturned nose.

  “Rachel Morgan!”

  Cass felt bad for the rushees outside on the lawn. Before she knew how rush really worked at Sigma, she’d believed like they probably did now that everybody was on the same relatively anonymous level until the parties started. In truth, there were some rushees the sisters had known about for months.

  The must-haves.

  Must-haves had something special—prestigious families, ridiculous amounts of academic honors, or just a certain undefinable “it” that made the actives in every major house drool. Must-haves were the prizes by which Sigma and its competitors gauged their success each year, and they were the girls who were always given first priority.

  “Last but not least . . .” said Delia, holding up a photo of a girl with wavy brown hair and a wry smile. “Who is this?”

  “Imogen Ash!” the sisters shouted, and burst into cheers.

  “Imogen Ash,” Cass murmured, a half beat too late. Not only was Imogen Ash a quadruple Sigma legacy with more money than God, she was also supposed to be some kind of genius. Apparently she spoke five different languages, narrowly missed qualifying for the Olympics in equestrianism, and her high school science team, of which Imogen was captain, had invented a new molecule that had been patented by NASA. The buzz about Imogen Ash had been going on since last spring break, when Nan Zimmerman, president of Sigma’s biggest rival, Beta Phi, heard a rumor in St. Barths that the heiress to the Ash family fortune had scandalized her family by enrolling at Baldwin instead of Brown. Since then, every sorority on campus had had her at the top of their recruitment lists.

  Imogen Ash was the must-have to end all must-haves.

  “That’s right,” Delia shouted. “We want Imogen Ash! And she’s coming to the first party, so that means we have to be at our best from the start.” Delia checked her watch again. “Are you sure you’re ready?” she asked Cass.

  Cass felt the skin on her neck prickle. Delia’s dad had died just a few days before rush. According to the rumor mill, she’d left the funeral and gone straight to the airport for her flight back to Baldwin. Cass could see how all that could affect a person’s mental state, but why did Delia have to fixate on her so much?

  “Ready!” Cass answered, smiling her biggest Sigma smile.

  Delia nodded, then turned her bullet eyes on the rest of the sisters. “Four minutes to go now, ladies. Let’s quiet down and get prepared.”

  Cass looked over her shoulder one last time, caught Ruby’s eye, and put both hands to her cheeks in her best Scream imitation.

  This was going to be painful.

  FIVE

  Maddy wanted to cry, it was so beautiful. More than beautiful, perfect. Like the opening of a wonderful movie. Like all of her best dreams coming true. She almost did cry when the red door finally opened and the sisters came out of the sorority house, clapping and singing:

  We are Sigma Theta Kappa and we’re here to say

  A very special welcome in our special Sigma way.

  Oh it starts with an S, and ends with a K.

  Don’t you want to be a Sigma girl today?

  The singing continued as the crowd on the sidewalk moved toward the porch. Maddy grabbed Imogen’s hand. “Remember to make eye contact and sit up straight. Let them lead the conversation. But don’t be afraid to ask questions.”

  “Not a problem,” Imogen answered. “How hard can it be?”

  The rushees thinned into a line as they reached the front steps. While waiting her turn, Maddy used her free hand to smooth her skirt and check her hair. She ran her tongue over her teeth. She wished she had time to pull out her compact for one last lipstick check.

  “Go like this.” Imogen shut her eyes and motioned for Maddy to lean forward. Maddy did and felt Imogen’s fingertip rub off some mascara that had bled onto her eyelids in the heat. “There.” Maddy opened her eyes to see her roommate admiring her handiwork. “You look gorgeous.”

  “Thanks,” said Maddy. She wanted to return the favor: tug on Imogen’s blouse to pull out the wrinkles, or fluff out her hair so it framed her face better. But Im had already started up the steps. Maddy couldn’t force her roommate to think about her appearance. Still, she hated the idea of Imogen getting cut by a bunch of houses on the very first day, all because she’d refused to spend five minutes in the morning with a blow dryer.

  A girl with short dark hair stood at the top of the steps, practically radiating authority. As Maddy’s turn came to shake hands, she read the nametag on the girl’s chest: Delia Danforth, President.

  “Hello, Madeleine Christopher. Welcome to Sigma Theta Kappa!” Delia’s handshake was firm, and she had striking grey eyes that seemed to bore right into Maddy.

  “Thank you.” Maddy smiled her most confident smile. Delia placed Maddy’s hand into the hand of another girl, who had popped out of the group of sisters.

  “Hi, Madeleine.” The girl smiled warmly. “I’m Violet. Come on in.”

  Violet put her free hand on the small of Maddy’s back and led her to the front door. Together, they stepped over the threshold.

  “Oh…” Maddy gasped. The rose-and-white striped foyer walls stretched to the ceiling two stories overhead. A carpet with an Oriental design flowed from beneath her feet up a grand staircase with a romantic white banister. Off the foyer were two entryways, each leading into elegant spaces where sisters and rushees were starting their conversations.

  “It’s beautiful!” Maddy said as they went into what looked like a massive sitting room. It had at least four couches arranged with some expertly mismatched chairs into three separate areas. A picture window ran the length of one wall, alongside a window seat decorated with comfortable-looking plaid cushions. Violet motioned for Maddy to sit on one, then she knelt on the floor at Maddy’s feet. Maddy looked around and saw that every sister sat this way—kneeling in front of the rushees instead of sitting side-by-side.

  “This is a gorgeous room,” said Maddy, remembering to cross her legs at the ankles. “I love how open and sunny it is.”

  “It’s home,” said Violet. She leaned in and checked out Maddy’s nametag. “Oh, Chesterfield! I was born there.”

  “Really?” Maddy grinned, surprised how relieved she felt to be sitting in front of someone with whom she shared a real connection. “Have you been back since?”

  “We used to go back to visit my grandma before she died. She lived up the street from the old Alms Park, and I used to walk over just so I could go on that old slide shaped like a rocket.”

  “I loved that slide, too,” Maddy said. “It was so high.”

  “It scared me to death,” Violet laughed. “But I couldn’t stay away from it.”

  “I know! It sort of ruined my childhood when they tore it down.”

  “Aw, they did?” Violet looked genuinely disappointed. “You have to tell me what else has changed. I want to hear all about what’s new there.”

  Through the crowd, Maddy caught a glimpse of Imogen sitting on the bench of a grand piano. Im pointed her index fingers at Maddy, then flipped her hands over in a double thumbs-up. The sister she’d been talking to turned to see who she was gesturing at, and Maddy felt herself blush. She hoped nobody else had seen her roommate acting so weird. She started to worry again about how Imogen would feel at the end of th
e day, when the rushees got invitations from all the houses that wanted to see them for round two. If Im didn’t quit messing around she’d be lucky to get invited back anywhere.

  “Are you OK?” Violet asked.

  “I’m fine!” said Maddy, refocusing. “Chesterfield probably hasn’t changed much since you left. I mean besides tearing out the best, most terrifying slide ever.”

  “It’s a sleepy sort of place,” Violet agreed. “But I’ve traveled a lot in the past few years, and I still have a soft spot for Chesterfield.”

  Maddy smiled bigger, straining to hear above the crowd. Somehow she hadn’t anticipated that it would be so loud. Or that there would be so many people. She remembered reading that there were something like 600 girls going through recruitment. And she couldn’t remember how many were in a typical pledge class. Was it 20? 30? Whatever it was, the number seemed ridiculously low compared with to all the girls who wanted in.

  A bolt of panic shot through Maddy. Right at that moment, her sister Miranda was going through rush back in Chesterfield. Maddy had always imagined they’d share the stress of recruitment, even though they’d decided to go to different schools. They’d shared everything over the years, and Maddy missed Miranda more than she wanted to admit. But in one awful night, Maddy had gone from sharing everything with her sister to competing with her. She couldn’t stop her mind from filling with images of Miranda with Logan, who’d decided to stay behind, too, and sign Pi Kappa Zeta. She saw them going to parties together, cuddling at football games, holding hands while they walked to class—