I Bet You by Ilsa Madden-Mills

Penelope

Two minutes later, we’re crawling into my car, an older model Toyota Camry I inherited from my mom. Also parked in the driveway is a brand new, white-silver metallic convertible Volkswagen Beetle—a gift from my dad a few months ago on my birthday. Boy, talk about an uncomfortable moment when he took me outside and presented my gift in his driveway, dressed up with a big red bow on top just like in the commercials. Confused, I looked from him to the car, trying to figure him out. Did he think a car would fix the fact that he abandoned me when I was a baby and now has a whole new family? Never going to happen. My pride refuses to enjoy it.

I pop in some Eminem and we peel out.

I break the speed limit driving the few blocks over to where sorority houses dot the street, all in a line. Pulling up to the curb, I manage to find a small parking spot and squeeze in after a bit of maneuvering.

“I’m glad you know how to parallel park,” Charisma says quickly as we get out and dash for the Chi Omega house, a two-story mansion constructed of red brick with four Doric columns on the front. Built in the late 80s, it’s got everything you could ever want in a grand house in the South: big front porch—all the better to dance on—and huge trees in the front yard with moss hanging from the limbs.

We rush inside to the large den and have barely taken our seats on one of the long benches in the back when the side door opens and our president waltzes in.

Made it!We fist-bump each other.

My gaze goes to the front. Everyone please welcome Margo Whitley, the Barbie at the top of the heap. From the top of her shiny, shoulder-length blonde hair to the little pink cardigan she wears around her shapely shoulders, she’s the epitome of the perfect Chi Omega girl. She points her button nose toward the ceiling as she walks toward the podium at the front of the room. Definitely a snooty patootie.

She’s also my new-ish stepsister.

My dad met her mom in a whirlwind romance and married her a year ago. Baby Cyan arrived six months later. Yeah, you do the math. The only thing that reverberates through my head is that Margo’s mom was good enough to marry but mine wasn’t.

She passes me as she walks down the aisle, but then backs up, her gaze critical, taking in my jeans.

Feeling defiant, I glare back at her. At one point during our freshman year when we were pledges together, we were friendly, even though we’re obviously complete opposites: I’m fun and colorful; she’s an uptight know-it-all.

She tilts her head toward me. “No casual attire.” She looks pointedly around the room at the other girls in sundresses, skirts, and dress pants.

I send her a tight-lipped smile. “You’re right, and I apologize. I was running late because I worked today. It won’t happen again.” My eyes dare her to say anything else. Sure, she has the rule on her side, and she could ask me to leave, but it wouldn’t look good to start off the first meeting by kicking out a sister. Plus, I did say I was sorry—and I truly am.

I make a note to set an alarm on my phone for meetings. I’m a bit of a daydreamer, and deadlines do get away from me. I blame the mystery man who texted me.

She narrows her eyes. “Fine. Consider this a warning.”

“Power-tripping,” Charisma mutters as Margo continues down the aisle.

I nod my agreement and watch her as she maneuvers behind the podium, taking in the hair that’s pulled back with a simple black headband. She looks perfect.

Yet…

She isn’t happy—it’s plain as day in the tight lines on her forehead and the dark shadows under her eyes.

“Hello, everyone.” Her smile is brief. “Before we begin, I’d like to remind everyone to please dress appropriately when you attend our meetings.”

“Oooo, she’s talking about you,” Charisma says while wiggling her eyebrows at me.

I laugh and Margo swivels her head in my direction, her eyes like lasers as they find mine. Great.

Charisma mouths, Sorry.

Margo inhales a deep breath. “Penelope, is there something you’d like to share with the group?”

I clear my throat. “No. I’m sorry for the disturbance.”

“Good.” She continues and levels her eyes at each fresh new face. “Let’s discuss the first matter of business. It’s recently come to my attention that one of our sisters has gotten caught up in the football betting hoopla. While we love the football players and want them at our parties, it only demoralizes a Chi Omega girl if we’re the brunt of the joke. Please be aware of this danger.”

My heart drops.

She’s talking about me.

Charisma, who’s been scrolling on her phone, puts it down and looks at me, her face flattening.

Some of the girls are whispering and looking around the room.

“…who was it…”

“…how awful…”

I inhale a sharp breath, embarrassed all over again that he almost had me convinced he really liked me. Just thinking about that stupid bet makes my face redden. Plus, I’ve been on pins and needles for the past few days wondering if the video Charisma said one of the players took would materialize and go all over campus, but it never did. Blaze swore to her he would make sure it was deleted, and I was just beginning to think the incident hadn’t gone any further—but now…ugh.

Margo exhales. “Since there are no secrets in Chi Omega, I feel compelled to tell you it was Penelope Graham.” Her gaze is flinty as she focuses on me.

Compelled my ass. She couldn’t wait to tell them.

My teeth grit as I hear more whispering from the girls around me.

I glare at Margo.

“Would you like to share the story with us and be our cautionary tale?” she asks, her lashes fluttering.

I push my legs to standing and scan the room. “Everything Margo says is true, but I beat him at his own game. My name won’t be on their tally board again.” I give them a smile. “Be vigilant this fall. Go Chi O.”

Margo studies me for a moment. “Indeed. Let’s move on.”

I want to shove her indeed up her ass.

“The next matter of business is the homecoming party. The Thetas will be hosting their own party, and as Chi Omegas, we must own Sorority Row and beat them. I want to make their party seem like a preschool outing.”

Several agreeing murmurs come from our sisters. There’s no love lost between us and the other sorority, and I imagine it pricks at Margo the most—since she lost her long-term boyfriend to a Theta last semester. Gossip runs rampant at our university, and it’s no secret she walked in on him screwing their president, a jersey chaser named Sasha.

Margo continues. “Our party will be the hottest ticket, and that means, first of all, invite the most popular guys.” She’s leaning over the podium and whips out a legal pad. “Personally, I’ve made a list of suggestions of people to invite, and I want us to ask as many as possible.” She gazes around the room. “If you’re willing, I’d love to have you pledge tonight to invite at least one A-list student from Waylon.”

I frown, annoyed about the A-list student comment. Connor probably isn’t on that list, but he’s a nice guy, and I want to ask him.

First, I’d have to talk to him, of course.

I raise my hand.

“Yes?” Margo grudgingly nods.

I stand again. “Who are you asking?” We all know it won’t be Kyle, her ex.

Margo’s lips compress and her hands tense as she folds them into a steeple. “Why, the most important person on campus when it comes to homecoming—the quarterback.”

Ryker? The jerk who made me the brunt of the joke?

Anger flies over me. “Football players go to the Tau house for homecoming. Everyone knows that.”

Margo, who usually sports infallible confidence, seems to falter as her hands flutter around her notes. She clears her throat. “Which is why it will be a great coup for us to get him.” She pauses. “I can convince him to come.”

I scowl. “We should invite people we want to spend time with, not ones we don’t know.”

She stiffens. “Maybe I’ll get to know him.”

Oh. Well.

That shut me up. I didn’t think he was her type.

She calls on one of the other girls who has her hand raised, and I plop back down in my seat.

Charisma levels me with a serious look. “If you don’t want him here, I can take care of that real quick. I have connections.”

I arch a brow and can’t help the grin. “Mobsters?”

She rolls her eyes. “Just because I’m Italian and from New York doesn’t mean I’m John Gotti, but one well-placed word in Blaze’s ear and Ryker will never grace our party with his presence.”

“Blaze?”

She shrugs, playing it off. “He likes me. I’m sure I can get him to encourage Ryker to stay at the Tau house.”

Hmmm.

I whip out my red lipstick and reapply, my mind churning. “Hold off on that. I’ll get back to you.”