“Thanks, professor.” I grabbed my brown leather satchel from the back of my chair and walked out of class.
Rome was in the hallway with a skinny blond girl’s arms wrapped around his neck, her chest flush against his red football shirt as he attempted to wield her off with an exasperated expression on his face.
I froze in my tracks, feeling incredibly awkward at the situation.
“But… but… why not? You never refuse me!” the blonde whined as she reluctantly let go of Rome’s neck, crossing her arms and stamping her cream wedge-heeled foot in protest.
“Things change,” Rome stated harshly, pushing her back from his body.
“Change? You? Since when?”
“Since right f**kin’ now! You’re not required anymore.”
With an outraged cry, the blonde made her exit and Rome ran his palm down his face, looking beyond agitated, pressing his forehead dejectedly against the wall.
Taking advantage of his turned back and with my firmly head down, I silently hurried past him, only breathing again when I’d successfully slipped by unnoticed.
As I walked through the doors into the bright summer’s day, I couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed that Rome was obviously one of those guys—a player… heartbreaker… every inch the typical bad boy.
With looks like that, it wasn’t exactly surprising.
2
“Tell me once again why the hell I’m parading around with a bed sheet loosely wrapped around my almost-exposed tits and arse?” I asked a bit louder than necessary as my friends and I headed for the dreaded initiation night at our chosen sorority.
Lexi stopped on the spot and pulled me by my arm around to face her. “Because, I will finally become a cheerleader, goddamn it, and this is the easiest way in! Head cheer-bitch runs this whole sorority, and I intend to rub shoulders with her and use it to my own advantage. I’ve tried for three years without being in a sisterhood and nada. This is my last year to try, so quit that mouth and let’s get to it!”
“I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again. We’re too old for this shit! We’re all senior age—upperclassmen—why the hell do they want us to join their chapter?”
“Because,” she said with an exasperated tone. “They’re down on their quotas for upperclassmen and transfers—that’s us!” A scowl set on her impressively white face.
Lexi was a five-foot-nothing Goth—complete with overly svelte figure, black pixie-cut hair, pure-white makeup and black kohl liner on her eyes and lips. She was the absolute antithesis of a stereotypical cheerleader, but she had this crazy dream that she would one day top the pyramid at a football game.
I, her roommate, had been drafted in to be a support. Well, me and Cass, the larger-than-life near three hundred-pound blond Texan, who was trailing behind, scoping out which boys she’d like to devour tonight. As always, Cass was wearing her staple white Stetson and black leather cowboy boots, along with her sorority-required tight toga—that looked like a pillowcase—that she’d been catapulted into.
As I looked at the three of us together, I couldn’t help but think that we were not exactly going to fit in with the athletically beautiful southern belles waiting for us on the other side of the large white door.
On the first week of my stay here (rush week), we had been pinned—in the badge-wearing sense—by an overeager brunette, weeks of selections had passed, and we were told to attend tonight for official initiation.
Lexi saw this as a divine message from her cheerleading-loving almighty God.
I saw it as cruel and unusual punishment.
Cass stood before us and asked, “What’s up, bitches? Are we headin’ to this jig or what? I wanna see what prime beef is on offer. Mamma’s taco needs a good ol’ fillin’.” And she slapped her crotch to exaggerate her point.
When I arrived a month ago, I was immediately housed in a university apartment on campus, and the only room available was with these two girls. I instantly loved them—no airs, graces, and completely proud of their identities. They took me under their southern wings and we immediately bonded. However—on introduction to these fine ladies—I did not realise that this ‘all for one, one for all’ motto we’d adopted would land me in Wal-Mart value zero-count cotton, all to help my emo pageant queen friend achieve her pom-pom fantasy.
I’d gone from a life of solitude, eighteen-hour library sessions, and snooty silver service dinners at Oxford, to being dressed in a sheet that was meant to resemble the fashions of ancient Rome.
It didn’t.
Not even close.
Cass pulled a hip flask of moonshine from some hidden crevice in her snug-fitting toga and took a long swig. “Woo! Feel the burn, honey!” she sang, dipping back and slapping her chunky thigh. She ran her tongue over her teeth, licking off any last drops, and passed the flask first to Lexi, who, after she swallowed, danced around on the spot, squealing and shaking her arms, and then handed it to me. I took a tentative, tiny sip and felt my eyes fall out of their sockets.
“Ohmigosh, Cass! How can you drink that?” I spat while running my hands along my throat, trying to soothe the burn. Cass had transformed a section of her bathroom into a moonshine distillery. She loved the stuff.
“Are you kidding me? It’s like drinking Momma’s milk, and I love the buzzzzzz…” She elongated the word and acted as though electricity were zapping across her skin, then took her chewing tobacco from her hidden purse and stuffed it in her bottom lip.
I rolled my eyes at her antics and handed back the flask. With linked arms, we headed into the fiery pits of hell.
* * *
The foyer of the Delta Epsilon Nu Omega… Beta… Pi… Kappa—who gives a shit?—was massive. A large oak staircase dominated the entrance of the imposing redbrick mansion and the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling looked as though they belonged in the palace of Versailles.
We were immediately ushered like cattle into a sprawling back room by the sorority sisters. The pledges were buzzing with excitement on hearing that we would soon meet the elusive president. It amazed me how one person could cause such a frenzy.
The sorority sisters told us to be quiet, and with a dramatic drum roll, courtesy of a sister tapping her hands on a table, the president swept through a set of double doors with serious dramatic flair to set the night in motion.