1. A New Adventure

Chapter one

A New Adventure

I t’s a cold afternoon, and the sigh that escapes me makes the air around my lips mist. I’m buzzing with excitement; this is the moment I’ve been waiting for. Finally, I’m going to be part of a sorority. That means friends, girls I can talk to and hang out with, girls I can study into the night with. I walk up the paved path that leads to the front porch. The house resembles an elegant white mansion, like the one I used to live in back home in California. If I’m being honest with myself, I’m not going to miss it. I love my parents dearly, but they are very “L.A.,” and a nerdy daughter was cramping their style. I wouldn’t have made it into the sorority without their donation, though, and I’m thankful for that. There isn’t much I care for, but the thrill of a new book, learning something, and performing—it’s the only thing that makes me feel alive.

I stop at the front door. Knock, Amelia, knock . Maybe this was a bad idea after all.

I squeal a little as the door opens wide to a knockout blonde Barbie, staring at me with big hazel eyes and lashes that could cause waves. She looks me up and down before plastering on a giant fake smile. “Hi, I’m Nikki of Omega Zeta Kappa. You must be Amelia?” If her voice went any higher, it would shatter the windows.

“Yes,” I say. “Nice to meet you, Nikki.” She gestures for me to come inside, and I’m immediately overwhelmed by the pink—no, pink tea rose, I believe the pamphlet said. I’m no longer surprised why my mother still wears this color to every meeting. Although the mansion was gorgeously tiled with white, the sashes and accents of pink roses flooded the entryway.

“Come with me, I’ll show you up to your room. I hear your mother and grandmother were both Omega Zeta Kappas?”

“Uh, yeah.” I’m never going to get used to this, but I have to try. As I pull my luggage behind me, I slowly follow her up the stairs and down a hallway plastered with framed photos of the girls who were once Omega Zeta Kappas. I’m sure my mother is up here somewhere, but there will be time to look later.

“This is your room. You’ll be bunking with Sharmae.” As I enter the room, I see more than one girl, but taking them in all at once, they look like the same person wearing different clothes. Do I need to bleach my hair if I want to stay here? Smiling politely, I walk in, and I’m immediately bombarded with questions. As they get closer, touching my hair and clothes, they continue to throw questions at me.

The sorority house is even more impressive on the inside. The grand staircase I ascended was lined with plush, cream-colored carpeting, leading to a chandelier that sparkled with crystal teardrops. The hallway walls were adorned with intricate moldings and soft pastel artwork, creating a delicate yet opulent atmosphere. Each door we passed was painted a soft ivory, with brass nameplates gleaming in the dim light.

When Nikki led me to my room, I noticed the heavy mahogany door, intricately carved with floral patterns, standing out against the lighter tones of the hallway. The room itself was spacious, with high ceilings and large windows that let in an abundance of natural light. The walls were painted a soft lavender, accented with white crown molding and delicate lace curtains. Matching beds with floral comforters and an array of plush pillows added a cozy touch, while the built-in shelves were already filled with books and decorative trinkets.

As I looked around, trying to take it all in, the girls' voices brought me back to reality. Their laughter and chatter echoed around me, blending with the distant hum of activity throughout the house. Despite the overwhelming initial impression, I couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation and belonging start to grow. This was the beginning of something new, and I was ready to dive in.

“Is your hair naturally that wavy?”

“Do you tan? Like ever?”

“Is the ripped knee jeans look still popular in L.A.?”

The barrage of questions comes from all sides, and I’m starting to feel overwhelmed. Each query is more personal than the last, and the constant scrutiny makes me shift uncomfortably. Just as I’m about to answer, Nikki steps in, her voice cutting through the chatter with a firmness that surprises me.

“Whoa, ladies,” Nikki says, placing herself between me and the inquisitive group. “She just got here; she still smells like a plane. Let her settle, shower, and she can join us for tea.”

I exhale a sigh of relief, feeling a wave of gratitude toward Nikki. Until this moment, I’d been bracing myself for the worst—anticipating that I might end up being the awkward outsider, bullied by the popular girls. The kindness Nikki shows is a welcome surprise, and I can't help but feel a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, this sorority experience won’t be as daunting as I feared.

As Nikki gestures for the girls to leave, I roll my suitcase to the end of the vacant bed. The room, while overwhelmingly pink, is surprisingly neat. It’s a bit much with all the pastel hues and floral accents, but at least it’s organized. I notice that my roommate is clearly close with the other girls; their photographs are plastered all over the left wall. A spare desk for studying catches my eye, and I assume it will be mine to use. I’m eager to change out of these travel-worn clothes, so I toss my backpack onto the bed and pull my collared shirt over my head without bothering to unbutton it.

Just as I’m searching through my suitcase for a different shirt, I hear the unmistakable sound of giggling. Spinning around, I see a few girls I haven’t met yet standing in the doorway, their phones aimed at me. My heart races as I clutch my old shirt in front of me, desperately trying to cover as much of myself as possible.

“What are you doing?” I exclaim, my voice trembling with a mix of embarrassment and anger.

“Oh, nothing,” one of them replies, her pink cardigan barely holding together as she giggles. “Just making sure you follow our rules.” They take their phones away and scamper down the hallway, their laughter echoing off the walls.

I’m left standing there, stunned and mortified. I thought sororities were supposed to be better behaved, but this feels like a cruel initiation. My mind races with worry—should I report this? What if they use the photo against me if I tell someone? Sweat trickles down the back of my neck as I scramble to put my shirt back on. With a deep breath, I gather my composure and follow the noise down the hallway, determined to join the group downstairs and not let this ruin my first day.

Nikki is chatting with some of the girls in the living room when I walk in. I don’t see the two who were taking photos of me.

“Did you forget to pack clothes?” she snickers, seeing that I haven’t changed.

“I did,” I respond. “But I—” I cut myself off, unsure of what to say.

“Darl, forget about the photo. It’s just to make sure that while you’re getting settled as our go-girl, you do as we say with the most effort possible. We like to make sure you’ll follow our rules. That includes doing anything we want.”

“By blackmailing me?” I shock myself with the boldness of my statement, but that doesn’t seem to faze the perky blonde.

“If we don’t encourage our sisters to keep their legs closed, do you know what happens? They think because of televisions and movies that it’s all fun, games, and alcohol, but it’s not. You will obey our rules, and that includes us taking whatever measures we need to in order to keep you in check. Don’t like it? Grab your stuff and get out. I’m sure your mother will be impressed after how much she donated to pledge you.”

My head is spinning. These girls are vicious, and I don’t want any part of what they are. Turning on my heel, I run back up the stairs and into the bedroom that is meant to be my home for the next few years. There is no way I can stay here. If this is what they do in the first hour of living here, what would happen after a day? A week? Maybe if I go for a walk through the park, I’ll fall and hit my head, and I won’t have to deal with the decision.

I need to go to this school, but I can’t live here. Closing the door, I grab my backpack and throw it over my shoulder. It’s already getting dark outside. There might not be anywhere to go, but it sure as hell is going to be better than whatever freaky hazing ritual these girls might have planned.

Grabbing the handle of my luggage, I pull it behind me and make my way down the stairs as fast as humanly possible. I hear the girls’ voices, but I choose to ignore them as I push my way through the front door and out into the street. The chill hits me harder than expected, but I have to stick to my guns now. There is no turning back from here.