My fist tried its best to obliterate the door "Open the fucking door, Ronnie" People were starting to crack open their doors and stare at the free show, but I didn't care. Forty minutes of trying to break into your own room would piss anyone off and I was no exception. It also felt really, really good to at last have a concrete reason to scream at my roommate.
The industrial handle rotated and popped as the lock disengaged,the door swinging to reveal Ronnie's frayed flannel pajamas and messy hair. Nearly black eyes met mine without blinking. "Well, what do you know-you aren't dead in a ditch somewhere."
The lack of inflection in the words almost unglued me so I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from cussing her out. Ronnie was the iciest bitch I'd ever met. Glares, snide comments, and uncomfortable silences were Ronnie's not-so-subtle way of telling me that she hated my guts. Which sucked, considering that I had never planned on making a nemesis within the first week and a half of my college experience. But here we were.
How had the roommate survey gone so wrong?
Exhaustion drowned out my fury as I stalked past her into our dorm room. My wall of pictures, Ronnie's whiteboard littered with her chickenscratch handwriting, and my stuffed animals swam in front of my heavy eyelids. The red digits of the alarm clock confirmed that it was four o' clock in the morning, and that my study session from Hell hadn't been a dream. Standing on my tiptoes, I scrambled onto my lofted bed and punched the light switch off. Sleep came a few heartbeats later.
Nonstop buzzing forced my eyes open some time later, and the sunlight slipping through the blinds confirmed that I overslept. Groaning, I threw a pillow over my face. “Turn itoff.” I mumbled.
The buzzing didn't listen to my command and persisted.
“Please.”
It got louder before I realized that the buzzing was vibrating around my leg. Huh. It had been my phone. Turning it off, I plopped against my pillow. I'd just missed my first class ever in my college career and now I was feeling remorse. Mom would have to be kept in the dark or I'd never hear the end of it.
Rustle. Rustle. Thump. I jumped and my eyes traced through the darkness before I saw a short, skinny figure throwing itself across the floor. Blood turning to ice, I flipped on the switch.
Ronnie was crumpled on the floor, a tiny pair of shorts halfway up to her knees which left only underwear plastered with pink cartoon unicorns preserving her modesty. She stared up at the ceiling as if stunned that the lights were on. “I fell.”
“I can see that." The unicorn discovery was so stunning that it took me a moment to process exactly what she was putting on. “You work at Twin Peaks?”
Ice slid over her embarrassed expression with such efficiency that I had to wonder if I'd imagined it. “Yeah, well,” she said, “don't have Mommy and Daddy paying for college, now do I?” After gifting me with a look that would freeze lava, she got up to her feet and shimmied into those itty bitty shorts.
She then took her sweet time applying makeup before pulling nondescript sweats over her uniform. I no longerexisted to her.
It was only after the door slammed behind her that I realized that I had been staring.
A few days passed after the "incident" and Ronnie and I fell back to our established pattern. She studied for hours at her desk, only sparing me a glare when I dared make noise or my friends came by. I avoided the room like the plague.
Not that it was difficult with how fast everything was moving.
“Hold still." The zipper tried its best to snag on the blue fabric, but some strategic pressing and readjusting finished the job. I stepped back, admiring the end product. "Looks pretty good Katie."
Katie smiled, her ruddy cheeks getting brighter in an unfortunate glare of color. Megan snorted behind me, and then demanded that I finish the winged look on her.
The easy days were almost over. Soon I would receive a bid in Zeta Tau Alpha, and then enter the fiefdom of "new member education." Admitedly, my brothers' descriptions of being frat pledges were probably overexaggerated and not at all applicable to the more organized ways of sororities, but that didn't mean that I was looking forward to it. With all of the recruitment parties in the past week, I'd been struggling to stay on top of my schoolwork as it was.
My phone rang in my pocket and caused my hand to slip on Megan's face. “Shit." I handed her a wipe and put my phone on silent.
Meg raised an eyebrow as she smeared my good work all over her cheek. “Why do you get a billion phonecalls a day? Do you have a boyfriend or something?”
A laugh threatened to bubble up. “No, that'd be my Mom. She's struggling with empty nest syndrome. My brothers told me this is the best way to deal with her.”
Katie gasped. “My parents would kill me."
I shrugged and finished with Megan's makeup. Spending my life gossiping on the phone with my mother wasn't how I wanted to spend my life. I doubted anyone understood just how long the interrogation would go if I picked up the phone.
College was the place where I could be my own person, and that couldn't happen if I kept enabling her.
We clicked our way across the parking lot and made record time to the Zeta Tau Alpha house in Meg's silver Ford Fiesta. Fun, generic music pulsed through the air and the members were spread throughout the living room, talking and laughing with each other. The other rushees dribbled in behind us, and the members leapt into action, swooping in and separating us for interviews. A girl in a green dress, Sarah, (if I remembered correctly from the last couple of parties?), beckoned me onto a couch and began the talk.
Preference Night is the last day of rush, and for many, the most terrifying. It was where they tested your enthusiasm, passion, and interest for the house. For most, the anxiety was worsened by the fact that they had multiple house preference parties to go to.
“The girls have given my life so much more meaning,” Sarah continued, “and I just know that you will be so happy here. So that brings me to the question-why do you want to join Zeta Tau Alpha specifically? What makes us special?”
It felt as though I had trained all my life for this question. Taking a deep breath, I opened my mouth to let out the greatest speech of my life.
But no words came.
It took only this hesitation for a foriegn feeling to come over me-a feeling of complete and utter stage fright. The core values, the advantages of being with like-minded girls, the desire to do God's good work through philanthropy that would only be elevated by the house...every talking point that had been drilled into my head vanished. God, what did she want to hear again?
“Lauren?”
A lot of time must've passed if she had to say my name. My skin itched and the babble from the other girls started to cascade and bounce against my eardrums. I had to say something. Anything.
“Well, Mom said the study files are pretty great and I want friends. Plus, I thought it'd be an easy way to meet some hot girls.”
Sarah stared at me but it was too late. The taboo of being real instead of fake real was already shattered into a million pieces.
"Not that I was, uh, looking at you that way.”
The silence reigned for half of a second before my mind caught up to current events. Tears started to burn at the corners of my eyes, because I knew there was no recovering from that. Shit. I excused myself from a traumatized Sarah and fled as fast as my heels would carry me.
The walk back to the freshman dorms was miserable. I kept slipping on the sidewalk, and the air assaulted my face and made it feel chapped. Several cars slowed down to the speed limit to gawk at my running mascara and ugly crying. Eventually, I managed to pull my hair down in a curtain and grab my phone from my clutch to serve as a prop. The five missed calls on the home screen made me sob harder. By the time I was safely in my room, the balls of my feet burned.
A quick look around had me breathing a sigh of relief: Ronnie wasn't lurking. Clicking the lock, I plopped facedown onto my bed and tried my best to drown myself in my stuffed animals. I was glad that I hadn't left them at home now.
A knock on the door made me slump my arm over my face in an attempt to block it out. The shadows and silence matched my mood, and maybe another gazillion years in the isochamber would heal my broken spirit.
"Are you naked? Or are you sacrificing a small animal in there?" Ronnie asked through the door and knocked again.
“Fuck off.”
She laughed.
Click. I sat up and watched with mounting horror as the door swung open and allowed awful industrial lighting to shoot into my eyeballs. Ronnie slinked in, her work sweats swallowing her frame and making her resemble an astronaut from my nightmares. She flipped the lights on and I recoiled.
Honest surprise took over her face as she looked me over. “What happened?”
Her scrutiny made me wish that I had taken at least a ten minute break from my brooding to clean myself up. “How did you get in here?” I tried to change the subject.
My roommate shrugged. “It's called a key. Not that hard to keep on you.”
The dig stung. “Look,” I said, “I'm having a really, really bad night, so could you please stop being such a bitch?”
Ronnie stared at me and I tried my best not to squirm. Even at my angriest, it was hard to stand up to her. Tonight, however, whatever she saw on my face made her nod. “Okayyy. Lemme get changed and I'll go grab a bite to eat.”
She turned on her desk light before flipping off the overhead. My head swam as her presence forced me to relive what I had done. Would switching schools be enough? Or did the national chapter share information? Maybe if I dyed my hair and changed my name then I could try the next cycle? Deep down, I knew that it was irreversible. The inevitable conversation with Mom made that reality even worse.
“Want something to eat?”
The question caught me off guard. Ronnie was at the door, her usual school hoodie swimming on her. She didn't look as icy as I was used to. “Yeah...that would be nice."
She left and I was alone again.
No miracles happened when the emails were sent out. Katie was given her second preference, Megan got a bid from Zeta Tau Alpha,and my Gamma Chi tearfully gave me the bad new through a phone call. Despite her condolences, I knew she blamed me for only rushing Zeta. But honestly, what kind of legacy messed up getting a bid from her mother's sorority.
I stared at the ceiling and cursed my stupidity.
"Class is today, isn't it?” Ronnie asked as she walked into the room. She had yet to glare at me since last night, and we had managed to work in the same room without incident. Probably because I could hardly talk to annoy her.
"I'm not feeling too good."
She snorted. "Because you've decided to roll over and die. You should let your parents know you're flushing their money down the toilet. Ya know, since they've spoiled you half to death." Ronnie then broke our treaty and glared at me like I was some kind of cockroach.
Something in me snapped. “How do you know I'm not helping pay for this dumpster fire of a university, Ronnie? What makes you so sure that you have me all figured out?” I stomped over to her and loomed, “All kinds of girls rush sororities!”
My roommate flushed scarlet. “Okay, well you have me there. I'm sure all sorts of students drive brand new Teslas as freshmen and act like an Ivy League education isn't shit. God, the fact that people like you exist...” Ronnie shook her head and looked me dead in the eyes, “Are there any scholarships? Loans? Anything you had to beg for so that you could come here?”
She sounded like she very much wanted me to say yes.
I flinched. "No."
"Have you ever had a job before?”
“That is none of your business,” I growled. “Why are you punishing me for things that I have no control over? It's not my fault my parents have money.”
Ronnie tossed her head back and laughed. “Because I have to look at you. I worked my ass off to get here, and you act like this place is your birthright. For fuck's sake, Lauren, you are skipping class because some girls said you can't pay them to be friends with you.” She shook her head as if trying to clear it. “Who the hell thought it was a good idea for us to room together?”
I threw my hands up and stormed out of the room. That was a good question.
The hallway blurred as I leaned against the brick. I was so close to getting back to the room, but it was hard to remember which side it was on. Or the room number. Oranything really. It was great.
Thank god for frat parties.
Giggling, I gave up trying to find the right door and slid down onto the ground.
Everything felt warm and toasty as the dirty tiles danced in front of my eyes. But everything stopped feeling so good when my stomach started tying itself in knots. I couldn't feel my arms. I had saved a couple of shots for the walk back and they were starting to hit. It had been lucky that my brothers hadn't caught me. But what was I supposed to do? Nobody ever talked to me anymore.
“Ugh." Was there a trash can?
I stumbled to my feet and kept walking.
“Holy shit” A blurry girl walked up to me. “Lauren, are you all right?” The lights kept moving past her, distracting me from her face.
I clutched my mouth as I started to feel a lot worse. “I feel pretty gross." Those two shots seemed like a bad idea now.
The girl sighed. “Guess I'm babysitting tonight." She grabbed my elbow and steered me to the communal bathroom, cursing whenever I stumbled a little. “Why do you have to be so goddamn tall?” She muttered. “Bet you were a ballerina or some shit.” A giggle went through me as I fumbled into the dingy stall she opened for me. I threw up and felt a lot better. It never occurred to me that my hair should've gone into the toilet water with my stomach acid. "I was a good dancer." I clutched at the walls of the stall, not trusting myself to stand up yet.
“Really? I got that right? Dancing's fun.” The girl sounded amused and not mad like I thought she was going to be. Another person came crashing into the bathroom in the stall next to us, and the sound of retching ensued.
A wave of nausea hit once more. “We can't dance together," I wheezed,"you couldn't keep up and I like blondes better." And there went my stomach contents again. I was beginning to get very dizzy.
“Huh,” Ronnie mused, "never knew you swung that way. Makes me hate you a little less. Is that why they didn't let you in that sorority?”
I leaned against the stall and stood up. And swayed before Ronnie helped me out of there. It turns out throwing up makes you feel more drunk. “Probably not. I botched that last round up in a lot of ways.” My eyes squeezed shut and I resisted leaning all of my weight onto my roommate.
Ronnie didn't respond as we made it back to the room in an awkward loping gait. She sat me in her desk chair and I slid off onto the floor. She nudged me with her foot and gave me a Gatorade. The microwave was thrumming and I couldn't help but wonder what was in there.
With some difficulty, I unscrewed the cap and poured the liquid down my throat. “Thank you." It was probably best to thank her before she was back to hating me. It made no sense-the times she was nice and the times she wasn't.
She shrugged as she handed me a mac and cheese bowl. “Please don't mention it.”
After that night,Ronnie and I didn't fight anymore. I listened when she told me to go to class, and she no longer acted like I was the spawn of Jeff Bezos. We studied together, ate together, and even watched TV together. It made me realize that much like me, Ronnie hadn't made friends at school yet. Occasionally her coworkers would visit, but that was it.
It was good to have someone to talk to and it seemed like my life was turning a corner; the details of my talk with Sarah at Preference Night hadn't leaked to everyone at Zeta Tau Alpha. When I'd asked Megan if she'd heard anything,she told me that Sarah had said that I hadn't passed the “vibecheck.” Mom had stopped donating to the house when she had figured out what had happened. After that, I started looking atother sororities to prep for the next rush cycle.
Unfortunately, Ronnie always laughed when I asked if she would rush with me.
Turning it over in my head as I tried to figure out how to convince her to wear one of my outfits to the recruitment party later that day, I practically skipped to our room. A pillow hurtled past my head.
“UGH!"
Ronnie's face was bright red in a fit of temper. “Goddamnit!” She picked up another pillow and slammed it on the ground where she then proceeded to stomp on it like it owed her money.
I knew better than to laugh. “What's wrong?” I asked.
She froze, her attack foot held in an awkward position. Her eyes then tracked the wayward pillow propped against mycalf. “Did I hit you?”
“I remain unscathed. What's going on?”
The red fading, Ronnie screwed her eyebrows together. “Got called into work tonight because my douchebag boss never listens to me. And because of this,” she gestured to the mountain of books stacked on her desk, “I didn't sleep last night.” I didn't see the problem. "So?”
Her upper lip twitched and I could tell that she was trying her best not to snap at me. "So I have to pull an eight-hour shift with Veronica. Which means covering her tables the entire night while she's snorting coke in the bathroom, clocking out at two in the morning, and then dying in a fiery wreck. Which means you will fail out of school and my dad will-"
"Wait," I said, "you tried to set me up with Veronica."
Ronnie rolled her eyes. "Oh please, you're due for a crazy ex-girlfriend."
I stared at her. If the pretty waitress hadn't been a redhead, there would've been no warning. Shaking off my roommate's shenanigans, I focused on the problem at hand. "I'll drop you off and pick you up." I suggested.
"You sure? That's hella late."
I shrugged. "I sleep, unlike some people."
After Ronnie got dressed for work, we piled into the Tesla that I'm pretty sure she had to suppress a million rich kid jokes about. The drive there was fun, even when she blasted the speakers on a song that made me flinch from the sheer amount of bass it required. She was in a far better mood by the time I left her at the restaurant.
It was when I returned to the empty room that I realized that I had once again missed recruitment. The world hadn't ended, and it felt nice to have enough time to stare up at the ceiling and think about things. Maybe I'd try again the next time. Or maybe I'd forget again. And if I felt like this everytime I forgot, then maybe it just wasn't for me.
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