“The Sorority”
When Britt arrived on campus, she wasn’t entirely excited to be there. She had wanted to escape the South – where she had lived all her life – or at least get out of going to the same state university as her father and mother. She hadn’t accomplished either. She had been admitted to some prestigious schools up north, but when she was offered a full scholarship to attend her parents’ alma mater, that had settled the matter as far as her parents were concerned – she was staying in-state.
So, as she was carrying her bags from her parents’ car into her new dorm, she barely noticed the century old buildings surrounding her, nor the verdant trees looming in the distance on the quad. Instead, all she could see was exactly what she had been hoping to get away from when she went to college: the masses of stupid, preppy popular kids who she had loathed in high school and would now have to put up with for another four years.
Fortunately for her, before long, they all disappeared into the background of her new environment. She quickly fell into a clique of like-minded friends who cared more about their classes and their causes than the hum of the bars on Thursday and Friday nights. During her first week at school, she joined the student newspaper and her work there started to consume her life. When she wasn’t huddled over her computer in the paper’s staffroom, she’d while away her time in a coffee shop up the street from campus, where she’d read over poems for her favorite class, a seminar survey of 20th century female poets.
During her second semester, she was assigned to write a story on the academic standing of her school’s fraternities and sororities. It wasn’t exciting stuff. 2.9 average GPA; 3.2; 3.0; and so on and so on. She kept looking for an angle, trying to find something interesting, and then there it was: one sorority had an incredible 3.7 average GPA. Astounded at what she was seeing – no house was even close to this mark – she decided to investigate.
Gradually, Britt began to uncover a scandal that if true would be an incredible boost to her career at the paper: This sorority’s grades were clearly being altered somehow. First she found out that sisters who should have been receiving mandatory F’s for missing too many classes were somehow receiving A’s. Then she discovered that some prominent members of the school’s administration had been members of the sorority years ago. Finally, following a tip from an unactive member, she checked out school donation records and discovered that the sorority members’ parents had given inordinately large amounts of money to the renovation of the school’s football stadium.
Walking back to her dorm one night after having interviewed another former sister whose grades had dropped as soon as she had left the sorority, she had a hard time containing her excitement. This was her Watergate. This was her big break. Aside from the pleasure of fulfilling her ambitions, deep down, on an almost unconscious level, she was enjoying the vengeance of sticking it to all the popular, preppy girls; that same type of girl who had made middle and high school so unpleasant for her. As she basked in her coming victory, she decided that the next day she would finally present her findings to her editors. She hadn’t yet told them because she wanted to make sure she could prove her incredible claims.
She passed by an old rush flyer stuck to a light post. It said, “Go Greek! We Never Stand Alone!” “Yeah,” she thought in response,“that’s right. You’ll all stand trial together.” Just then she felt someone reach from behind her, putting a rag over her mouth. There was a struggle. She flailed and resisted. The last thing she noticed before she passed out was that the rag smelled funny.
When she came to, she saw a warm, glowing light fixture above her head. She tried to sit up, but she quickly realized she was tied down to a bed. She noticed early morning light was peaking in through the shutters of the room’s windows; she had slept through the night. The room’s walls were covered with floral wallpaper and large framed pictures. At first – still a little woozy – she couldn’t figure out what they were; they all looked like they had hundreds of tiny oval pictures – they were sorority composite pictures. Hundreds of smiling faces that – from the looks of it – were from the 1970’s were staring at her on the opposite wall. Britt then realized that those weren’t the only faces staring at her – two girls were sitting at the head of her bed.
The one on the left – who Britt recognized as the President of the sorority she had been investigating – was a blonde, wearing a partially unbuttoned pink oxford shirt and a short khaki skirt. She seemed to be leaning in to see if she was finally awake. The other one was a brunette who Britt didn’t recognize. Her hair was pulled back into a pony-tail by a white grosgrain ribbon and her bright white teeth – visible through her effusive smile – were set off by the pearl earrings she was wearing,
“Britt,” the President said, “Hey! My name is Ashlee and I’m the President of the sorority you’ve been investigating! This is our Rush Chair Caitlin.” Caitlin gave her an excited wave. Britt was still a little too groggy to say anything. Ashlee began, “You may be wondering why you’re here… well, we recently discovered that you were planning on writing an article about us… and well, we just wanted to make sure that it was going to fair.” She paused; Caitlin started talking. “The thing is that we’ve found that people who haven’t rushed, who aren’t Greek, have a hard time understanding those of us who have. We think that, well, before you’re critical of us, you should see what it’s like to be one of us. That’s why,” – she paused for effect – “we’ve decided to let you become a sorority girl before you decide to publish your article or not!”
Britt hadn’t been registering exactly what had been happening, but Caitlin’s “offer” suddenly jarred her out of her half-asleep complacency. “Let me become a sorority girl…,” she started, “just wait a second. What you’ve done is entirely fucking illegal and you bitches are going to be in even deeper shit once I get out of here. I can’t believe that…” Ashlee cut her off. “We realized that after the shock of last night, you might have a headache this morning and that it might prevent you from seeing the appeal of our offer. I guess we were right. That’s why we made sure to get some aspirin to help you think more clearly.” Caitlin had gotten up and approached the side of her bed. “Listen,” Britt started to scream, “I don’t have a headache and I don’t need any of your fucking aspirin. I just want to – ”
While Britt had been screaming and looking at Ashlee, Caitlin had quickly popped a pair of white pills into Britt’s mouth, and in her surprise, she had accidentally swallowed them. “There,” Ashlee said, “I think in a few minutes, once your headache’s gone, you’ll be able to think clearly about our offer.” Britt yelled, “What the fuck were those?!?!” She tugged violently against the straps, but couldn’t loosen them at all. Caitlin had set back down with Ashlee and they both appeared to be waiting for something. Britt started to scream, but then all of a sudden, she began to feel very calm. She stopped screaming and felt herself falling into a blissful calmness that she had never felt before. Suddenly, she realized that the drug she had been given was affecting her somehow, and she tried to scream again. It only came out as a sigh. After her brief rebellion, the soothing calm only redoubled, wiping away all her remaining will to resist Ashlee and Caitlin. She looked at them. They smiled and slightly tilted their heads. She smiled back.
“Great,” Caitlin said, “now that your headache is gone; we can go ahead and help you become one of us.” Caitlin and Ashlee loosened the straps around the bed, and led Britt into a bathroom, where they told her to take a shower. When they had left, she glanced in the mirror and noticed how different from Ashlee and Caitlin she looked. Her jeans were old and ragged; her old hooded sweatshirt from her high school swimming team was worn and faded. She wasn’t wearing any make-up; her shoulder-length hair was still matted down from last night’s struggle and sleep. The feeling of calm that had washed over her faded away and was replaced with a sharp pang of anger. She wasn’t angry that she had been abducted, but instead because she wasn’t like Ashlee or Caitlin. She tore off her clothes, threw them in the wastebasket, and jumped into the shower. As she shaved her legs for the first time in a month and a half, all she could think about was to hope that they wouldn’t make her put on her own clothes again.
After she turned off the shower and began to dry off, she heard a knock on the door. “Britt,” Caitlin called, “are you finished?” “Yeah,” Britt called out, draping a towel around her body, “I’m finished.” Caitlin smiled and said, “Wow, you look a lot better already! I wanted to bring you some clean clothes for you to change into.” Once Caitlin had left, she slipped into a clean bra and panties and slid a tight-fitting pink Polo shirt over her head. She smiled as she saw the little white pony tight against her chest. She noticed that her collar had been brushed up as she had been putting it on but decided she liked it that way and left it. Then, for the first time since her parents had drug her to church over fall break, she applied some light make-up and then put on a pair of pearl earrings that Caitlin had left. A burst of pleasure rippled through her as she thought to herself, “I’m going to be just like Ashlee and Caitlin!” Finally, she stepped into a short white pleated tennis skirt. She looked at herself in the mirror and she was shocked; she had been right, she looked nothing like she had a half-hour ago, she looked like a carbon copy of her two kidnappers.
When she walked out of the room, Caitlin and Ashlee were both waiting. “Oh my gosh, you look so nice!” Ashlee said. While you were taking a shower, we took the liberty of taking your class notebooks and stuff out of your backpack and into this new bag for you. Ashlee handed her a pink quilted diaper bag and she smiled and happily swung it around her arm. “Thanks so much, you two,” she said as she looked down and blushed, “I feel so happy right now. I can’t really explain how good I feel. I was sorry that I was so mean to you earlier. Sometimes when I work too hard I get these bad headaches and that’s what it must have been earlier. I’m going to try to cut back and live a less stressful life and have more fun. Thanks to you, now I realize that deep down, ever since high school, I’ve always wanted to be preppy and eventually join a sorority. So, again, I’m so sorry for acting like such a bitch earlier.” Ashlee responded, “Don’t worry about it, we were happy to help you out. Actually, before we get some breakfast and another sister escorts you to your first class, I have an idea. You don’t look much like a ‘Britt’ anymore. I just don’t think that name fits you or your new life. How would you feel if we started calling you ‘Brittney’ instead?” Another wave of happiness came over Britt as she stammered, “Yeah – you’re so right. I don’t know why I’ve gone by such an stupid name all these years. Please call me Brittney from now on.” The girls led Brittney downstairs where they met other sisters and got some breakfast before their morning classes.
An hour later, Brittney and Kellie – one of the sisters who was also in her intro psychology class – walked out of the house into a beautiful spring morning. Flowers were blooming on the trees and bushes; the bright green newly budded leaves on the quad’s giant trees glowed in the bright sunlight. As they walked down a path to their hall, Brittney saw her old group of friends walking towards them in the opposite direction. As they approached, they didn’t seem to recognize her, except for Tom, a guy she had been interested in as recently as two hours ago. He stared at her as if he was seeing a ghost, confused by her sudden transformation. Brittney briefly glared at him and then abruptly looked away. In earshot of Tom, she turned to Kellie and said, “Don’t you hate it when creeps stare at you? It makes me feel so uncomfortable.” Beyond her old friends, she saw that a group of frat boys, all wearing tucked in pastel polo or oxford shirts, was also walking in their direction. Brittney got a funny feeling in her stomach as she crossed eyes with one of them. “Fortunately, she added, “not all boys are creeps.”
Although spring rush had already taken place and she couldn’t formally join, Brittney started spending almost all her spare time at the house, which she had a lot more of after having resigned from the paper. Once fall rolled around, she happily took a bid from the same sorority she had been investigating six months ago. Her parents were surprised by her decision, but they were relieved when they saw that her grades weren’t dropping.