Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
“Dammit!” I call out as I fly past her and run to my bedroom to grab my pink jersey that bears our Greek letters, pairing it with my red skinny jeans. I slap on some lipstick and throw two-inch suede booties on my feet to dress it up. I check my hair in the mirror, and it’s a riotous mess. Oh well. It’ll have to do.
Better to be on time than to look good.
Penelope
Two minutes later, we’re crawling into my car, an older model Toyota Camry I inherited from my mom. Also parked in the driveway is a brand new, white-silver metallic convertible Volkswagen Beetle—a gift from my dad a few months ago on my birthday. Boy, talk about an uncomfortable moment when he took me outside and presented my gift in his driveway, dressed up with a big red bow on top just like in the commercials. Confused, I looked from him to the car, trying to figure him out. Did he think a car would fix the fact that he abandoned me when I was a baby and now has a whole new family? Never going to happen. My pride refuses to enjoy it.
I pop in some Eminem and we peel out.
I break the speed limit driving the few blocks over to where sorority houses dot the street, all in a line. Pulling up to the curb, I manage to find a small parking spot and squeeze in after a bit of maneuvering.
“I’m glad you know how to parallel park,” Charisma says quickly as we get out and dash for the Chi Omega house, a two-story mansion constructed of red brick with four Doric columns on the front. Built in the late 80s, it’s got everything you could ever want in a grand house in the South: big front porch—all the better to dance on—and huge trees in the front yard with moss hanging from the limbs.
We rush inside to the large den and have barely taken our seats on one of the long benches in the back when the side door opens and our president waltzes in.
Made it! We fist-bump each other.
My gaze goes to the front. Everyone please welcome Margo Whitley, the Barbie at the top of the heap. From the top of her shiny, shoulder-length blonde hair to the little pink cardigan she wears around her shapely shoulders, she’s the epitome of the perfect Chi Omega girl. She points her button nose toward the ceiling as she walks toward the podium at the front of the room. Definitely a snooty patootie.
She’s also my new-ish stepsister.
My dad met her mom in a whirlwind romance and married her a year ago. Baby Cyan arrived six months later. Yeah, you do the math. The only thing that reverberates through my head is that Margo’s mom was good enough to marry but mine wasn’t.
She passes me as she walks down the aisle, but then backs up, her gaze critical, taking in my jeans.
Feeling defiant, I glare back at her. At one point during our freshman year when we were pledges together, we were friendly, even though we’re obviously complete opposites: I’m fun and colorful; she’s an uptight know-it-all.
She tilts her head toward me. “No casual attire.” She looks pointedly around the room at the other girls in sundresses, skirts, and dress pants.
I send her a tight-lipped smile. “You’re right, and I apologize. I was running late because I worked today. It won’t happen again.” My eyes dare her to say anything else. Sure, she has the rule on her side, and she could ask me to leave, but it wouldn’t look good to start off the first meeting by kicking out a sister. Plus, I did say I was sorry—and I truly am.
I make a note to set an alarm on my phone for meetings. I’m a bit of a daydreamer, and deadlines do get away from me. I blame the mystery man who texted me.
She narrows her eyes. “Fine. Consider this a warning.”
“Power-tripping,” Charisma mutters as Margo continues down the aisle.
I nod my agreement and watch her as she maneuvers behind the podium, taking in the hair that’s pulled back with a simple black headband. She looks perfect.
Yet…
She isn’t happy—it’s plain as day in the tight lines on her forehead and the dark shadows under her eyes.
“Hello, everyone.” Her smile is brief. “Before we begin, I’d like to remind everyone to please dress appropriately when you attend our meetings.”
“Oooo, she’s talking about you,” Charisma says while wiggling her eyebrows at me.
I laugh and Margo swivels her head in my direction, her eyes like lasers as they find mine. Great.
Charisma mouths, Sorry.
Margo inhales a deep breath. “Penelope, is there something you’d like to share with the group?”
I clear my throat. “No. I’m sorry for the disturbance.”
“Good.” She continues and levels her eyes at each fresh new face. “Let’s discuss the first matter of business. It’s recently come to my attention that one of our sisters has gotten caught up in the football betting hoopla. While we love the football players and want them at our parties, it only demoralizes a Chi Omega girl if we’re the brunt of the joke. Please be aware of this danger.”