Read Online Hell Week by Rosemary Clement-Moore - Free Book Online
Authors: Rosemary Clement-Moore
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major is English right now."
"Oh? Are you a writer?"
The woman was like a terrier on a rat. My hole was get- ting deeper and she was digging in behind me. "I love litera- ture. I've thought about being a professor, like my father."
"Ah, yes. Dr. Quinn. He was a TA when my husband was in college here."
I jumped on the opportunity to turn the subject away from me. "Did you meet at Bedivere?"
"Yes. We're both active alumni. Your sorority will be a vital part of your lives during college, and for the Sigmas, it remains so well after graduation. We're a special group."
Her hand touched my sleeve, and I felt a tingle, not on my arm, but in my brain. I stiffened, and I thought about my psychic exercises for dummies, about putting up a shield between us. Whether it worked or not, I wasn't sure, but there was no repeat of last night's voyeur-vision.
"Sigmas form a close bond, Maggie," Victoria continued seamlessly, as if she'd noticed nothing odd in my reaction. "You'll see what I mean, if you decide to join us."
Fortunately, she excused herself to introduce the skit, saving me from the most obvious response to that.
F F F
" `Resistance is futile.' " A fraternity guy, slumped in his desk in the back of the classroom, read aloud from the latest Phantom Rushee report while we waited for Dr. Hardcastle to arrive. " `All will be assimilated. Come into the light, where all have shiny, shiny hair and many, many boy- friends.' " His buddies, all wearing some part of the Greek alphabet, laughed heartily. I wondered if they'd be so amused if the Phantom had been a guy rushing a fraternity.
He continued his recitation: " `Unfortunately for the Sigma Alpha Xis, my mother always told me that if it looks too good to be true, it probably is.' "
The guy one seat down snatched the paper away. "She ragged on the SAXis? Man. This girl has balls."
Frat Man grabbed his newspaper back. "She's got to rag on them all, dipwad. It's like, equal time in the media or something."
"That's political campaigns, asshole."
Our class, by the way? Media and Communication. This is your brain on testosterone.
"I wonder if she's hot."
"She's probably some militant feminist lesbian."
"Lesbians are hot, dude."
Behold, the future broadcast executives of America.
F F F
My days had begun to bleed together. The last night of Rush was Preference Night, when the sororities invited only the girls they were prepared to give a bid. There were only two parties, so we--the rushees, I mean--had to narrow the choices, too.
Leaving Hardcastle's class, I'd glimpsed Cole as I passed the journalism lab, but as per our secret agent code, we did not make eye contact or acknowledge each other. I headed to the library to do some work and check my e-mail, and found a message waiting. From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Re: Secret Squirrel Retirement
I know we only made plans through Rush
Week, but are you sure you don't want
to keep going and pledge? Think of the
book you could write. Look at this:
www.newsnet.com/articles/greeksgowild
The link was to a news article about the seedy underbelly of Greek life--drinking, drugs, hazing, promiscuity--and the media blackout on the whole Greek system. How, unless an event got onto the police blotter, no one really knew about day-to-day life on Greek Row. This was what Ethan Douglas at the Avalon Sentinel had been talking about when he said my article lacked anything newsworthy.
The thing was, the longer the Phantom's opinions ap- peared in the Report, the greater the chance that I would be discovered. If I actually pledged a sorority--
My phone started vibrating across the table. I picked it up and leaned forward into the study carrel to whisper, "Hello?"
"It's Holly. Can you come to my room? We need to do an intervention."
"What?"
"The Deltas cut Tricia."
"I'll be right there." I'd jotted down her dorm and room number and closed my laptop before I realized that I was
"Oh? Are you a writer?"
The woman was like a terrier on a rat. My hole was get- ting deeper and she was digging in behind me. "I love litera- ture. I've thought about being a professor, like my father."
"Ah, yes. Dr. Quinn. He was a TA when my husband was in college here."
I jumped on the opportunity to turn the subject away from me. "Did you meet at Bedivere?"
"Yes. We're both active alumni. Your sorority will be a vital part of your lives during college, and for the Sigmas, it remains so well after graduation. We're a special group."
Her hand touched my sleeve, and I felt a tingle, not on my arm, but in my brain. I stiffened, and I thought about my psychic exercises for dummies, about putting up a shield between us. Whether it worked or not, I wasn't sure, but there was no repeat of last night's voyeur-vision.
"Sigmas form a close bond, Maggie," Victoria continued seamlessly, as if she'd noticed nothing odd in my reaction. "You'll see what I mean, if you decide to join us."
Fortunately, she excused herself to introduce the skit, saving me from the most obvious response to that.
F F F
" `Resistance is futile.' " A fraternity guy, slumped in his desk in the back of the classroom, read aloud from the latest Phantom Rushee report while we waited for Dr. Hardcastle to arrive. " `All will be assimilated. Come into the light, where all have shiny, shiny hair and many, many boy- friends.' " His buddies, all wearing some part of the Greek alphabet, laughed heartily. I wondered if they'd be so amused if the Phantom had been a guy rushing a fraternity.
He continued his recitation: " `Unfortunately for the Sigma Alpha Xis, my mother always told me that if it looks too good to be true, it probably is.' "
The guy one seat down snatched the paper away. "She ragged on the SAXis? Man. This girl has balls."
Frat Man grabbed his newspaper back. "She's got to rag on them all, dipwad. It's like, equal time in the media or something."
"That's political campaigns, asshole."
Our class, by the way? Media and Communication. This is your brain on testosterone.
"I wonder if she's hot."
"She's probably some militant feminist lesbian."
"Lesbians are hot, dude."
Behold, the future broadcast executives of America.
F F F
My days had begun to bleed together. The last night of Rush was Preference Night, when the sororities invited only the girls they were prepared to give a bid. There were only two parties, so we--the rushees, I mean--had to narrow the choices, too.
Leaving Hardcastle's class, I'd glimpsed Cole as I passed the journalism lab, but as per our secret agent code, we did not make eye contact or acknowledge each other. I headed to the library to do some work and check my e-mail, and found a message waiting. From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Re: Secret Squirrel Retirement
I know we only made plans through Rush
Week, but are you sure you don't want
to keep going and pledge? Think of the
book you could write. Look at this:
www.newsnet.com/articles/greeksgowild
The link was to a news article about the seedy underbelly of Greek life--drinking, drugs, hazing, promiscuity--and the media blackout on the whole Greek system. How, unless an event got onto the police blotter, no one really knew about day-to-day life on Greek Row. This was what Ethan Douglas at the Avalon Sentinel had been talking about when he said my article lacked anything newsworthy.
The thing was, the longer the Phantom's opinions ap- peared in the Report, the greater the chance that I would be discovered. If I actually pledged a sorority--
My phone started vibrating across the table. I picked it up and leaned forward into the study carrel to whisper, "Hello?"
"It's Holly. Can you come to my room? We need to do an intervention."
"What?"
"The Deltas cut Tricia."
"I'll be right there." I'd jotted down her dorm and room number and closed my laptop before I realized that I was
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