The Girl I Was Before (Falling #3)(10)
My breath comes in slow and hard. It could just be an end-of-the-year thing. There are academic requirements to stay in the house—maybe it’s a grade check or announcement for study sessions through finals.
I close my laptop and slip it into my backpack, along with a few of my books. My classes are all done, and tomorrow is campus study-day. The only thing left is finals. I’m starting to think spending the rest of this semester at the library wouldn’t be a bad idea.
A month ago, I never wanted to leave my room. Now, it feels like a trap. It’s disguised as a place I should love. Looking at it now, I’m starting to think it’s all part of the plan, to lull me into a false sense of comfort until I break.
My room is purple, the furniture white with fancy trim. We all have special doorknobs—that’s sort of a thing they do for the girls who get selected to move in. Every Delta gets to pick a doorknob from the Restoration Hardware catalog. The girls who have roommates have to agree. But I’m alone, so I got to pick my own door décor. My knob is glass, with purple and silver swirls inside, cut like crystal. There’s a matching coat hanger—which I paid for on my own—mounted in the center near the top; I used half a month’s spending allowance.
Cass probably spent her money on granola bars and Gatorade, with lots of change to spare. I bought a hundred-dollar coat hanger. Now, I can’t help but fixate on it, noticing how small it is. The mount is made of iron, but the ball at the end is plastic. I chuckle quietly the more I think of how much it cost.
“Meeting starting,” someone yells from downstairs.
My small fit of laughter fades, and my frown feels heavy. I grab my bag, making sure I have my essentials inside—books, music player, phone, keys, purse, gum…yeah, I think that’s it.
The common room is pretty full by the time I get downstairs, so I plop my bag at the base of the steps and take my seat on the bottom stair, another girl standing next to me, leaning on the rail.
Chandra is sitting on the main sofa. That’s her seat—right in the middle cushion. Her jet-black hair shines against the purple velvet of the couch. It’s kind of pretty. Ashley is next to her…in the seat I usually take. A week ago, I think Chandra would have told Ashley to move. Chandra’s best friend, Talia, the vice president of our sorority, is on the other side. I wait for several seconds, just to be sure my instincts are right. In that time, I notice neither of them look up for me. They purposely avoid turning in my direction at all.
This isn’t going to be a meeting; it’s a public hanging. I need to decide if I want to slip my neck into the noose.
“Thank you for coming, ladies. I know we’re all very busy right now,” Chandra starts, and the room quiets faster than it does in any of my survey classes. I’m internally amused; Chandra commands more respect than a professor who won a laureate for helping guide the country through an economic crisis.
“Just a quick meeting; I promise,” she says, gazing over the room, never fully looking in my direction. I’m across from her, nobody in our path. And I can feel the rope slipping over my head.
“Tutoring hours have been posted in the kitchen. Please check to make sure you are taking advantage of any and all help the Delta House provides you. Remember, part of our dues goes toward ensuring academic success. And your success in the Deltas rests partly on your academic performance,” she says, her eyes crossing the room again in a sweep. I wait for her to stop short of me, like she did the last few times. But she doesn’t.
Chandra’s eyes stop right on mine; her lip raises the slightest bit, revealing her inner thrill of catching me. She knows. And I’m having a hard time breathing.
“Also…” she says, her eyes scanning to her left and right, but coming back to me. She’s pretending this speech is for everyone else, but it’s not. “I wanted you all to hear this unfortunate news from me first. There are some…well…vicious rumors making the rounds about me, along with some photos that are absolutely false.”
I’m careful here, my energy focused on keeping my lips in a flat line, my eyes on hers, my blinking normal. Nothing about my outside can show the absolute chaos happening within.
“What’s worse? These rumors…they started with one of our own,” she says, sparing a few glances to either side, coming back to rest on me. “Someone fabricated some pretty terrible things.”
Talia is nodding next to her, eating up every word, aiding Chandra’s performance. Ashley is chewing her nails; she looks like she’s about to cry, concerned for her leader. I want to vomit.
“This is painful for me to even ask,” she says, feigning concern. She’s so fake! How did I not see this before? I had to have seen it. Maybe I just didn’t care.
“We’re going to begin our own interviews into this matter. I’m afraid we’re going to need to see everyone’s social media and the photos on your phones.” I pull my knees in and leverage myself so I can stand, lifting my bag over my shoulder—ready for whatever is about to come at me.
“Chandra?” I speak up, somehow finding my confidence. I need to keep this shit together; remember who I am. “You might need to get someone involved, like…legally. I’m pretty sure you can’t just ask to see someone’s personal information like that.”
When I’m done, I purposefully bend down and unzip my purse and reach for my mirror and lipstick, giving my hands something to do. Disinterested—I need to keep up the appearance as long as I can that I’m clueless to what this is about.