Frayed (Connections, #4)(6)

Her gaze lifted at my greeting and she quirked a smile. With a gleam in her eye she said, “Hi. Are you from France?”

I gave a slight laugh. “No, California but I spent my freshman year in Paris.”

“Ah . . . you’re new. I am too. I just transferred in from New York University.”

I felt a spark of excitement. “Are you a sophomore?”

She straightened her shoulders. “No, actually I’m a junior.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you look like a character from Gossip Girl?”

Her smile grew bright. “All the time and I love to hear it. She’s my idol. I fashion my wardrobe after her.”

I nodded. Not certain of what to add to that, I quickly glanced down at the table of pamphlets and asked, “So, you were in a sorority at NYU?”

I was somewhat curious only because she was obviously the quintessential prep school girl turned college sorority member. I knew them well. I had gone to a prep school and I was sure all the girls I graduated with had joined sororities. But for me, the preppy schoolgirl look was never my thing. I liked to think my look was more Kate Moss. I mixed fashion-forward clothing with vintage. I wasn’t afraid to throw any two pieces together and put my own spin on an outfit. My mother liked my edgy wardrobe but warned me to avoid anything too revealing. That made me laugh because guys never looked at me that way anyway. I was always just the cute little sister.

“How did you know? Delta Zeta!” She beamed with pride, pointing to the flattering propaganda spread out in front of her.

I bit my lip. I had considered joining a sorority for the sheer purpose of making friends, but I wasn’t certain if I had the time with my heavy course load.

She must have noticed my eyes flicker in contemplation because she asked, “You are a PNM, aren’t you?”

“A PNM?” I questioned.

“A potential new member,” she clarified, leaning closer to me.

I shrugged. “Well, yes. I guess I am.”

“Great,” she said, assessing my outfit—a short cropped jacket, skinny jeans, low-heeled boots, and my grandmother’s always-present layered gold necklaces.

“What does a PNM have to do?”

“Depends on what you can offer and who you know.”

“I’m new, so I haven’t met very many people.”

She frowned as if reconsidering if she should have asked me.

Not wanting to feel rejected, I threw out, “But I have a brother in a band and another brother who’s a graduate student here.”

Her eyes twinkled with excitement. “Are they hot?”

I shrugged again. “I guess so.”

“Then you’re a PNM.”

I clasped my hands together in excitement at having a title and making a new girlfriend.

“We need little sisters to help at the Kappa Sigma’s Pledge Night tonight.”

“I’m not really a little sister, though.”

“Oh, I’m giving you temporary membership. Raise your right hand and repeat after me to accept and we can move on to the hazing,” she said in a serious tone.

My mouth dropped open.

“I’m only kidding.”

Not quite sure I believed her, I did as she instructed, trying to recall movies I had watched with sororities, but my mind went blank. I finished repeating the words.

She skipped around the table. “Done!”

I felt nervous and excited at the same time.

She grabbed her materials up off the flat surface. “Let’s go.”

I patted my hair. “Now?”

“Yes. Inspiration period is about to begin.”

I slanted her a questioning look.

“Hell week,” she mumbled.

“Oh, but I’m not sure I . . .”

She put her hand up and ignored my concerns as she filled her purse with the brochures and swung it over her shoulder. “But first you need to change your outfit. Come with me; you look close to my size.”

She took me to her dorm room, gave me a change of clothes, and we were off. It was dark and streetlights lit our way. The shoes she had me change into weren’t exactly made for walking long distances. I wore heels all the time, but those must have been five or six inches high. My hair blew in my eyes and I pushed it behind my ears. Claire had tried to tame it, but it was still a frizzy mess.

“What am I supposed to do tonight?” I asked, trying to keep up with her pace.

She rolled some lipstick on her lips and smacked them. “Be bitchy and nice, ugly and pretty, stupid and smart, innocent and slutty, blond or brunette.”

I looked at her in confusion.

She laughed. “It’s easy. You just tend to one of the fraternity brothers’ needs.” With a silver tube in one hand she air-quoted the word needs.

I wasn’t quite sure what she meant, but I suddenly felt like a call girl in her short skirt and tight top and I started to think twice about going. My stomach lurched. I wasn’t really a partyer. I’d lived with my aunt in Paris and didn’t often participate in the college extracurricular activities. I always had tons of guys who were friends and I called them boyfriends, but I don’t think I ever had one in the true sense of the meaning. Girlfriends, on the other hand, those were harder to make and I wondered if I was a bit too quirky for most girls’ liking. But since Claire had brought me under her wing, I didn’t want to blow my opportunity.