When Lucy talked to me, she said what she thought she was supposed to say and laughed a second too late, as if she was looking for cues.
And the whole time, all I could think wasSierra wouldn’t do that.
She didn’t try to make you like her; she didn’t want you to like her just for the sake of it. She looked at you as if she already knew what you were about , and dared you to prove her wrong.
Talking to her was like stepping into a current — whether you were ready or not, you felt it.
This? This was still water. No ripples. And I’d already drowned in the deep end.
“Have a nice night, Lucy.” I turned and walked away without so much as a backward glance. Guess she wasn’t a nice girl after all.
Rounding the lake, I made my way to one of the docks anchored along its shore. It was deserted, the party-goers hadn’t spread out that far. My steps made hollow thumps as I walked to its end, lowering myself with a heavy sigh.
This thing had turned from bad to worse so fucking fast. I had never felt this distanced from every single person in my life, so lonely.
Was Sierra lonely too? Or had she forgotten about me already?
It was funny how you could feel so close to someone, as if you were sharing their secrets, even if it was just for one night. Only to then feel as if you had dreamed her up.
The sound of her laugh, the way her fingers curled in her sleep, was already fading.
And yet, she was all you could see.
What was my girl doing right now? Was she thinking about me, too? At least sometimes?
Once again, I pulled up her IG profile, tapping on the message button, like I’d done countless times already.
Just been thinking about you, Goddess. Miss you.
I stared at the words I’d typed out, mocking me.
“DOM!” I heard someone yell in the distance. Staring at the lit screen, my thumb hit the backspace, deleting the unsent message — as I did with all of them.
Looking up, I see the party raging in the background, people stumbling around drunkenly or horsing around in the cool water. I had zero desire to rejoin them.
Physically, I was still here, but part of me had already left, or rather had been left behind — and she was the reason.
Twelve
Sierra
The sorority house looked the same, but it no longer felt like home. The faded photos and strings of fairy lights on the walls were still there, as were the worn couches sagging in all the familiar spots. The smell of old popcorn lingered in the air.
But to me, it was quieter, like the house was holding its breath.
Nobody acted differently — not that I could tell, anyway. They laughed the same, joked the same. I kept catching myself watching faces, trying to read the cracks in their smiles or the hesitation in their voices. But there was nothing obvious.
Just quiet.
Too quiet.
The fact that I had trusted these people made me so incredibly angry. When I had joined this sorority, it was specifically because it seemed like it was really about the things it was supposed to be about.
Solidarity, values, sisterhood.
I used to be the first one to join in, to share stories late at night on the creaky staircase. Now I found myself slipping past the common areas, trying to keep my distance and avoid eye contact. I wasn’t sure who I could trust, and that feeling settled like a stone in my chest.
I touched the bracelet on my wrist, the one I’d gotten on bid day, and wondered how much of this was my own paranoia. But after what I’d read, the thought that I’d misjudged these girls —my sisters— stung more than I wanted to admit.
