“That’s ridiculous. They didn’t know what they were talking about. Maybe that’s a holdover from the past, but we look for girls who are sweet and kind and well rounded. Like you.”
“I wasn’t able to get recs for all the Houses, either.”
“Now that’s a problem. You have to have recs.”
“I know. But when I called the Panhellenic office last fall, they told me to ask my mother’s friends for recs. My family is crazy, Sarah. You don’t even want to know how crazy.”
“My parents are going through a messy divorce. I know all about crazy. Trust me.”
I felt so close to Sarah in that moment—so close I almost told her about Mom. Because the reason I was crying uncontrollably was because of her. I was sure that somehow, someone found out my mom got addicted to meth—or God knows what kind of drug—moved to California with some guy, and abandoned me when I was five years old. Just ran off and left me like I was a doll she grew tired of playing with. Didn’t she consider what that would do toa little girl’s self-confidence? To grow up thinking her own mother couldn’t care less about her? Sure, she left me with her parents and not in an orphanage. But she didn’t even have the decency to consider how it would break my grandfather’s heart to have his only child leave her family behind. And cause my grandmother to drink from the same bitter cup day after day. But, as usual, I decided to continue the lie.
Now—Bid Day morning—Sarah’s back at my door again. I love her, I really do, but I still don’t want to talk to her. Even though I know she’s come to console me again. I can’t take much more consoling. My thumb is sore from rubbing my prayer stone. My eyelids look like I’ve been stung by two bumblebees. My head is pounding, I’m sick to my stomach, and I want to die. The death of a dream is worse than I ever imagined.
I feel like a baby bird on the edge of her nest trying to get up the courage to take her first flight, but when she finally, finally takes the leap and tries to soar, her wings fail and she falls twenty feet down on her fragile little head. And she’s dead. Before she ever gets started. Before she ever gets the chance to prove herself.
I am leaving. I am getting as far away from here as I possibly can. If only I could do it all over again. Choose another school where sororities don’t exist. In Maine or Washington State, maybe—as far away as possible. On second thought, Washington is too close to California. And the entire West Coast is not big enough when it comes to staying away from my mother. I’ll transfer to Blue Mountain College next semester. My grandparents will be happy to have me back; I know that. And while I’m home I’ll apply to a college in the Northeast for my sophomore year. Surely I can get another scholarship.
So I choose to stay silent and let Sarah leave. I can hear her footsteps as she’s walking off. There’s a conversation going on outside my door, but I can’t hear what’s being said.
Five minutes after Sarah leaves, my phone rings. I pick it up to read the name, and,surprise,it’s Sarah. But I silence the ringer and let it go to voice mail. I’m still staring at my phone when a text pops up:Cali, it’s Sarah. Can you please please please call me. I’ve got good news!Three heart emojis. Three smiley faces. And a slice of cake.
What could be good news? I’ve been cut from Rush. What news can Sarahpossibly tell me that will make me feel better? I don’t want to call her back.I really wish she would leave me alone,I think, as I press redial.
She answers on the first ring. “Cali! Where are you? I’ve been looking everywhere.”
I sigh. Loudly. Right into the phone.
“No one on your floor knows where you are.”
“I’m going home,” I say softly. “Why would I want to stay here? It’s Bid Day. I’m not getting a bid.” I’ll take a cab, if I have to, back home to Blue Mountain. I’ve certainly saved enough money to afford one.
“Yes, you are!”
I sit straight up.
“I can’t tell you who it is, but you’ve been given a bid! I know it sounds weird, and it is, but sometimes sororities are given another chance to hand out more bids.”
My head is splitting from pain and she’s talking so fast I have to squeeze my face to keep up with her. “Wait. I don’t get it.”
“It’s totally weird. And I never told any of you in my group about this because it doesn’t happen that often. It’s called a snap bid.”
“I’ve never heard of that.”
“I know. Like I said, it doesn’t happen that often. And you’re going to want to think you were second choice, but I promise you this sorority is over the moon about you. I can assure you they would never offer a bid to a girl if they didn’t love her. I mean reallyloveher.”
“Sounds sort of weird.”
“This whole Rush season has been weird,” she says. “With the variable quota and all. So many things got turned around. Tons of legacies were cut. And, like I told you yesterday, several girls decided to suicide and they ended up not pledging anything at all.”
I finally let go of the breath I’ve been holding the whole time she’s been talking. “Okay, so—”
“So get up, girl. Put your Bid Day clothes on and meet me in the Grove in an hour.You are a new member!”
Hearing those last five words finally convince me this is truly happening. But I still can’t speak. I’m… I’m starting to cry, again, and I don’t know why. If what she’s saying is true I should be dancing. But I’m not. I’m crying.When I whimper into the phone I feel the pangs of embarrassment all over again.
“Cali, do not worry about this. Everything that has happened will become a faded memory. When you walk inside your new sorority House today and meet your pledge class and all the actives, you’ll be so happy. Please get excited and enjoy this. It will be one of the best, most fun days of your entire life.”
“Thank you,” I manage to say, in a soft voice.
