Bloody Princess by Helen Scott
15
Lyric
The last week and a half has been one of the weirdest of my adult life. Ever since the dinner with Keats and the other APT guys, I’ve felt the impending weight of rush, and then, when rush actually started I felt faker than fake. I was the kind of plant someone has in their home that's got that weird, unnatural green to its leaves and also happens to be covered in dust. I was—I am—a dusty, crusty fake.
The problem is, I don't give a flying fuck.
Yes, what I told Keats that night is true, I want to feel closer to my mom. But the sorority is also a means to an end. I need to be around the guys more, especially when they might be vulnerable to confessing things they shouldn't, and what better place to encourage that to happen than at a frat party?
Pi Ep girls are their preferred party buddies, therefore I need to be a Pi Ep, but there's nothing more complicated to me than navigating the social cues of women. My father and Sampson haven't ever let me have friends before. It didn’t matter if they were girls or boys, let alone boyfriends, they are always too focused on what I could do for them and their friends or enemies. I could be as sweet as sugar or as bitter and painful as lemon juice and salt in a wound. Which side of me they got was mostly up to my father and Sampson, but it was also a little up to me.
To fit in with the Pi Ep girls, though? I have to turn the sweet and peppy side up to eleven. I have to be the overeager, stars in her eyes potential new member. It makes rush exhausting.
The first day, Sunday, was open houses. The Rho Gamma's, the temporarily disaffiliated sorority members who will guide all of us innocent freshmen through the rush process, took us around to all the houses, and that was how I spent my entire Sunday. It wasn't so bad since there were so many girls all vying for one another's attention. We had Monday to recuperate, then on Tuesday night after classes, we had the house tours. Some of the mansions were beautiful, and some were meh, but none of it really mattered to me. Still, I went through the motions. I oohed and ahhed at their decorations and smiled and chatted and showed everyone the rich girl they expected to see.
Wednesday, we were given a break, but Thursday and Friday, we were right back at it with the skit night and preferences night. The skits were funny, if a little weird, and were mostly focused on the house's philanthropies and charity work. Preferences was the most stressful to me, since it was just me and three other girls for most of the night, two of whom were already sisters. The third was a potential new member, like myself. It was an entire hour of dinner and in depth discussion about what it meant to be a sorority sister, all of which made me want to pull my own teeth out.
The weirdest part of all, the bit that I hadn't expected, was the singing. Every single house sang when we entered and when we left, and each had their own unique songs. On the last night, the music was more somber, which I found oddly comforting. Still, it was the singing that made me wonder if I could actually do this, in any kind of convincing way. Then, I reminded myself that this was nothing compared to the act I had to put on in front of my father's friends. If I could do that, then I could do this without a problem, which is how I found myself running with a group of girls as we came down from the student center, where all the potential new members went to formally accept their bids into the sorority, through the middle of campus, and to the Pi Ep house on Saturday afternoon.
As we approach the two story white pillars that make up the front of the porch and balcony on the Pi Ep house, we can hear them cheering and screaming from inside. Something happens, and suddenly, banners are unfurling and hanging from the balcony all the way to the top of the front door. Huge swaths of cream and gold material buffet in the breeze. They're hand-painted and read, "Honey, You're Home!" and "Welcome to the Hive". A second later, big columns of balloons, all in coordinating colors, drop down as well, lining each side of the two banners. I stare in surprise for a moment.
Apparently, that’s the effect they are hoping to have, because they choose that moment to come pouring out of the house and onto the front lawn, where they sing and cheer just as loudly as before. Each of them is dressed in creams, golds, and yellows, with only a couple of the girls sporting jeans or jean shorts. They all have matching t-shirts as well, which say "Honey, I'm home!" with what's supposed to be honey dripping from the letters. Underneath, in smaller letters, it says Pi Epsilon Omega - Mu Iota Chapter - Bid Day.
The girl I sat and spoke with on preferences night comes weaving toward me through the crowd. Her name is Meara LaRosa, and I already have Mel running a background check on her, as well as getting a handle on all her socials. With someone running those accounts on the guys, and me already appearing on them a few times, I'm leaning toward being extra careful.
"I'm so pumped that you accepted your bid!" She squeals and wraps me in a hug before pushing me away with her hands on my shoulders. "This is for you!" She withdraws her hands and holds one up in front of me with a matching t-shirt. "I took a guess on your size, but I think this should fit. If you need something else, though, just say the word." She grins and stares at me, as though she expects me to strip in their front yard so I can put on the t-shirt. Fortunately, in my peripheral vision, I see other girls putting theirs on over whatever tank or t-shirt they are already wearing, so I do the same.
It's tight around my boobs, which doesn't come as a surprise to me. Most people see me as tiny, petite even, and assume that means I wear smalls or extra smalls in everything.
"Oh!" Her lips form a perfect circle as she looks at me, and I know she had been expecting me to fit into the small. "We'll get you a medium. I'm sure there are some left over."
We walk into the house, and there's a huge arch of balloons set up around the door, all of which are orange, yellow, cream, and gold. If the theme hadn't been obvious from outside, it sure as hell was on the inside, with how the place was decorated. The same four colors seem to drip from every surface, with various decorations and signs welcoming all the new members home. All of them are themed to honey and bees. Hexagons are all over the walls and tables, along with little bee models.
I'm following the stream of people winding its way through the entryway to the first living room, then the second, before almost getting to the dining room. Meara tugs me to one side, and I have to fight the instinct to yank my hand back. As I follow her to one side of the more casual living room, I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.
I'm not really a people person, and I'm not great in crowds like this. The more sedate, refined crowd that moves at the speed of smell is what I'm used to, not the mad rush of energy and hormones that comes with being in your teens and twenties. I was exposed to it to an extent in high school, but even then, it was a private school with certain levels of decorum expected from students.
Meara pulling me to the side is actually a good thing since it gives me a break. I just don’t expect her to say, "Take that off."
I stare at her blankly for a second before I realize that she's talking about the t-shirt she gave me. When she just raises her eyebrows and motions for me to hand it over, I want to slap her. Just a tiny bit. She has no clue who I am and what I'm capable of, and she's looking at me like I'm an idiot for not realizing what she was talking about.
Instead of doing what I want, I pull the t-shirt up and over my head and hand it to her. She shakes it out and folds it back up before turning to the box and rifling through it. She pulls out one armful of shirts before diving back in and pulling out another.
A frustrated sound escapes her and I know what she's about to say before she straightens. I'm just not sure whether or not I believe her. You might say I have trust issues.
"It looks like we only have smalls and extra-smalls left. I'm so sorry," she says as she turns to face me, and though her eyebrows are pinched with concern, I could swear there's humor dancing in her eyes.
"It's all good. Maybe it'll fit better once I take this shirt off," I reply as I take the t-shirt I'd just removed back from Meara. I turn away from her, quickly strip out of the off-the-shoulder peasant shirt I've been wearing, and pull the t-shirt back over my head. I don't really give a shit if she sees me in my bra, I just wasn't about to get half naked on the front lawn.
"Come on, let's go get some pizza," Meara says as she bounces up and down on her toes. It doesn't look like the girl has actually touched pizza in a long time with how skinny she is, but maybe she just has a high metabolism. I mean, we are supposedly in the prime of our lives and all that.
I smile and follow her in as she skips to the dining room. Almost all the chairs are occupied, and there's only one left, which Meara waves me toward. Around the edge of the room, some of the Pi Ep sisters stand, and on the floor at their feet are woven baskets filled to the brim with different items.
"Now that we're all here!" a voice calls out over the chattering crowd. Everyone immediately settles down, the new pledges eager to hear what is about to be said, and the older members knowing not to talk over whoever this is. "I'm Francine Winthorpe, the president of Pi Epsilon Omega. Welcome! You accepted your bid to join the Pi Ep sisterhood, and we couldn't be happier to have you. We've got some presents for you to welcome you aboard and a wonderful evening planned for you, starting with some of the best pizza in the city!"
As though this is all a carefully orchestrated dance, the sisters who have been standing around the edge of the room begin picking up the baskets and handing them out to different pledges, while at the same time, pizza starts flooding forward from the kitchen I'm not going to lie, the smell of it makes my stomach growl loudly enough that a couple people close by turn and look at me in surprise.
I give them a small embarrassed smile, and thankfully, the moment is interrupted by one of the basket-giving sisters visiting our table. She sets one down in front of me, and the floral scent that emanates from it is so cloying, I struggle not to push it away to give myself some breathing room. Instead, I mimic the other girls' reactions and exclaim over how thoughtful it is, how amazing this is, and on, and on, and on, until the feeling of being a crusty fake is back in full force.
As I paw through the basket, I'm able to identify the offending soap that is making my nostrils burn from the power of its scent and carefully extract it, setting it as far away from me as possible without being too obvious about it. Just as I get everything unpacked, my own personal pizza fairy appears, and I inhale the two slices on the plate. The warm, greasy cheese and pepperoni makes me feel somewhat human again.
"Once everyone has had their first round of pizza, you're welcome to go and get yourself seconds," Francine calls out, once again quieting the room. "In your baskets, you'll find a few things we picked out for you that we hope you'll love, along with a handful of Pi Ep t-shirts. We'd love for you to wear them around campus to show how excited you are about becoming a pledge. There's also a ribbon pin in there, with our colors—coral, teal, and gold—for you to wear, to identify you as one of our pledges. This is a great way for you to start recognizing each other around campus and for our older members to recognize you, as well. As many people as you met over the last week or so, we’ve met more, so you'll have to be patient with us while we get to know each of you individually."
Music starts playing from somewhere outside, and squeals burst from the sisters as they begin a mad dash to the front door. I watch in amusement and can't help but laugh when Meara grabs my hand and pulls me along with the crowd. The reverberation of what sounds like a bass guitar riff seems to roll through the house, though it's barely audible over the sisters' excitement. It's familiar, but I can't place it until the Pi Ep sisters fling open the front doors of the house and pour out onto the front porch. That's when the second guitar kicks in, and I hear a guy's voice start singing about sunshine and realize they are playing "My Girl" by The Temptations. I get out onto the porch just in time for the first round of singing, except they've changed the lyrics to “Pi Eps”. All the girls around me cheer in excitement.
Before the song can go on for much longer, some of the other guys start chanting "Ooga-Chaka Ooga-Ooga", and they transition into "Hooked on a Feelin'" by Blue Swede. One of the guys has an actual cow bell and is going to town on it as they sing. The sound of a record scratching cuts the song off, and the thumping beat of a different song takes over as a group of the guys moves to the front and starts dancing, kicking it off with the jump and grind that Magic Mike made famous as Ginuwine's "Pony" plays.
The guys who are dancing have some serious moves, and even with as much as I've been exposed to over my life, when they strip off their shirts and throw them into the crowd, I find myself getting flushed. I know guys my own age fuck like rabbits, but to see their hips moving like a fucking vibrator? That takes it to a whole different level.
“Pony” quickly transitions into Ludacris' "What's Your Fantasy" as the guys rap the words to the girls in the front row. As they sing about licking the sister they are serenading, there's lots of humping the air, then some guys even dance together, which surprises me. They fake spank each other, and there's a line of them dancing behind the ones performing at the front who are all doing some two-stepping. The song switches to "Talk Dirty" by Jason Derulo, and they get really into it as they tell us to talk dirty to them while a saxophone or something plays in the background.
The record scratching sound plays again—from what I have to guess is one of their phones—and they start doing their best impression of Harry Styles singing about "Watermelon Sugar." When they get to the second round of singing the chorus, they change the words from “watermelon sugar high” to “Pi Epsilon Omega”. It doesn't quite fit, but they do the best they can. One of the guys who has been hanging in the back weaves through his dancing brothers and presents a pink rose to one of the girls. Squeals go up from all the initiated members of the Pi Eps.
As they stop singing, the guy who presented the rose to one of my future sisters says, "Alpha Phi Theta Omicron would like to welcome its newest sweetheart, Lillian Jackson!"
The girls around me cheer and clap, so I do as well, even though I only have a vague idea of what that means.
Another APT brother steps forward, one I hadn't even seen in the crowd. Jude smiles widely and slaps his brother on the back affectionately. "We would also like to invite you ladies to a party tonight at eight-oh-eight Cedar Street. We want to help welcome your new pledges and introduce you to ours. Thank you, ladies!"
This is exactly what I wanted—what I was expecting from joining Pi Ep—but a tiny, minuscule part of me, the part that still actually feels things, doesn’t want to take the next step just yet. What I can’t figure out is why? Is Mel right? Am I failing now that I don't have a direct set of orders to follow? The thought plagues me as we walk back into the house after the unexpected serenade, and I decide I won't pay attention to it. Not any more. All I'm going to worry about is doing the job I came here to do. I need to know why the Boys of Ascendance Bay betrayed one of their inner circle, and which one it was who killed her. Nothing else matters.
