Chapter Six
Whirr.Whirr. Whirr.
“You’re totally doing that wrong.”
“Do you want to give it a try then, genius?”
“Not especially.”
“Yeah, of course not. Any pointers, then? Or do I just keep improvising?”
“I’m not saying I know how to do it. Just that the way you’re trying is definitely wrong.”
Whirrrrrr.
“It’s not supposed to make that sound, is it?”
“How should I know?”
Pulling the covers over my ear is a futile effort; Sage and Aimee’s bickering leaks through the fabric. No more sleep for me, I guess.
“Okay, here. What if we… yes! That’s it!”
They quiet down a bit, but now whatever’s making that noise is working at full speed, chugging like a train.
I sit up and wipe my eyes. Morning already. My body feels like it could linger in bed for another ten hours, but I’m not going to let it. I have a campus to explore, people to meet—maybe even a party to attend. I’ll sleep when I’m dead.
I yawn, stretch—and let out a tiny involuntary moan when the smell hits me.
Fresh coffee. One of mankind’s most divine creations.
First things first, as Papa instructed before I left—I need to check for messages. The private phone that he set up for me is in the first layer of my duffel bag, thankfully sparing me the need to worry about the second lock. I power up the screen, swipe it open, and squint at the block of text through sleep-heavy eyes.
Has everything been smooth so far? I received confirmation that your registration is complete. Remember to keep your doors locked and your bag hidden. Contact me immediately if you notice anything suspicious. Don’t forget to take care of yourself. Much love.
That’s Papa, all right. Much love, indeed. He does mean it—he’s just not the best when it comes to putting his care into words.
I’m fine, Papa. Everything is good. Love you too.
I zip the phone back up and stumble my way into the bathroom, where a quick splash of water on my face is enough to halfway revive me. I give myself a quick once-over, ensure that I’m passable, and make my way into the wide communal living area, where, sure enough, my two older roommates are sprawled across the couches, large coffee mugs in hand, neither fully dressed—Aimee is in a gray tank top and matching sweatpants, while Sage dons a bright-colored band shirt long enough to reach her knees. She looks like a different person out of her makeup—a prettier person, too, though of course I’m not going to tell her that.
“Morning, freshie,” Sage says, glancing at me with vague disinterest. “Check out the new gadget.”
She gestures towards the coffee table, where a hulking silver pot with at least a dozen buttons is proudly perched.
“Espresso machine,” Aimee says. “Present from my dad. It can make mochas and shit.”
“Not that you have any idea how to work it,” Sage points out.
“You weren’t letting me try.”
“You’re the one who told me to do it, dude!”
“Is there enough to share?” I venture to ask, cringing internally in anticipation of their response.
But they don’t laugh or brush me off. Instead, Sage shrugs. “If you can figure out how to brew some, go crazy. The beans are in that bag by the door. And you gotta use your own mug.”
That puts an end to that hope. I only packed essentials—assumed that was the case for everyone, but apparently not.
Harper’s door springs open.
“Lia, you’re up!”
Whoa. At least one of us has bothered to change out of her pajamas.
Assuming that Harper doesn’t sleep in a strapless purple minidress and matching pumps.
I don’t so much as manage to wish her good morning before she’s chattering away, almost tripping over her own words with excitement.
“Okay, I have like, three different ideas of what to wear, and I totally need your help picking one out. I keep changing my mind—I don’t want to be too formal, you know, but like, these are the GODs; we have to be at least a little impressive if we want them to notice us?—”
Sage and Aimee exchange a glance that Harper seems to miss.
“—But not notice us in a bad way, because that could be a total disaster. What were you thinking for yourself? Maybe we could match?”
She pauses for air, giving Sage the opportunity to dive in.
“So you guys are going to the GODs party?”
Harper looks briefly surprised, as though she hadn’t even realized that the other two were in the room. “Oh. Yeah. Isn’t everyone?”
Another meaningful look passes between the two sophomores.
“They’re serious business, you know,” Aimee says. She pulls off her glasses and begins to clean the lenses with the hem of her tank top. “The shit that the GODs get into is super intense. Especially for freshmen.”
“What, like, hazing?” Harper frowns. “Do people really do that here?”
“Not like hazing,” Sage says. “Or, well, maybe a little. Look, this is all just rumors, okay? But some people say they’ve got some sort of secret club. They all wear masks and, like, kidnap little girls to rape and murder. Little girls like you two punks.”
“I’m not a little girl,” I say quietly.
She gives me a lazy look. “Are you sure they’d think the same way?”
I am, actually. Not because I think I’m immune to actual child predators, but because I’m almost positive that’s not what the GODs are. One key part of Sage’s mythologizing burns sharp in my mind: They all wear masks.
“It’s not just a rumor,” Aimee says. “Remember that girl from last year, Laura Knollwood? She got an invitation to go to one of their creepy fuck-fest parties, like, a week before she left campus.”
“Bullshit,” Sage scoffs. “She got sick, that’s all.”
“I don’t know. Imogen says that she showed her the envelope.”
“Imogen Marquez? That girl is so full of hot air, she’d make a balloon blush.”
“I don’t get it,” Harper interjects, frowning. “Do they kidnap people or invite them?”
“Depends on who you ask.” Sage shrugs. “They also have orgies and gamble and stuff. And probably do freaky rituals with virgins’ blood in the woods.”
“You’re an idiot,” Aimee mutters.
I’m inclined to agree, but for very different reasons. If I can trust my mother’s words, Sage might be a lot warmer than she realizes.
“Well, in any case.” She drains her coffee mug with a long slurp. “You want to watch yourself around the GOD boys. Even if it’s all just rumors, they’re notorious for sleeping with underclassmen.”
“That doesn’t have to be a bad thing, does it?” Harper says.
“It’s a bad thing as far as you’re concerned, ’cause I’m trying to shoot my shot with Freddie Graves, and I do not need either of you getting in my way.”
Aimee settles her glasses back over her ears. “I’m telling you, that’s never gonna happen. Or it might, and he won’t even remember who you are the next day. What’s even the point?”
“Just you wait, sister.”
They continue to jabber at one another, and don’t seem to notice when I follow Harper’s gesture to join her, before she closes the door with notably more force than necessary.
“God, they never stop,” she groans. “That shit is so stupid. Kidnapping little girls? I knew the rumors were crazy, but that’s a whole ’nother level of stupid.”
“Yeah.” Hopefully my tone is light enough to avoid suspicion. “Totally nuts.”
“Right. So let’s focus on what’s real.” She waves towards the rainbow of clothes scattered over the floor. “I have no idea what I’m supposed to wear!”
After an hour of agonizing over her options, Harper surrenders with a dramatic flop onto her bed, arms splayed wide. “I can’t do it. This is impossible.”
“You’re being too hard on yourself. You’ll look good in any of these.” I pick up one of her discarded options, a light sundress patterned with cherries. “This is adorable. Like a last taste of summer.”
“Mm… very poetic.” She rolls onto her belly, kicks her feet up, and props her chin in her hands, frowning. “Isn’t it kind of, I don’t know, childish? I’m not trying to look too desperate, but I don’t want guys to pass me off as some little girl. Especially not the GODs.”
As well-endowed as she is, it’s difficult to imagine anyone dismissing Harper as girlish. Then again, I’m far from the best judge of something like that.
“What about this, then?” The silky teal fabric of another dress, this one boasting a neckline plunging halfway to the waist, is fluid as water between my fingers.
“That’s too far in the other direction. I want to steer away from slutty… for now, at least.” She flashes me a devious grin. “Later in the year, I might be singing a different tune.”
That effortless confidence again—how does she do it? And who do I have to kill around here to get on her level?
“Ugh, whatever.” She swings out of bed. “I’m gonna drive myself crazy if I spent another minute staring at this shit. Say we go get some fresh air—hit the shops, maybe? I don’t even have my textbooks yet.”
Textbooks, right—this college thing has so many moving pieces, it’s a wonder anyone can navigate it without losing their sanity. “That sounds good—I need to get mine, too.”
“Perfect!” She fetches a light green jacket from where it hangs on her desk chair. “I don’t know if they sell clothes there too, but maybe I’ll be able to find something decent.”
The piles surrounding me now are probably about four times the amount of outfits that I’ve ever owned in my life—and she wants more? She must feel as though she’s drowning in options, like I did at the student union when we went to dinner last night. Two days ago, that sensation would have seemed impossible to fathom. Now, it’s far too familiar.
“Let me go get cleaned up, and I’ll meet you in the living room in a minute.”
Harper nods but doesn’t look up, occupied with adjusting her hair in the mirror. I let myself out of her room—only to find none other than Sage waiting on the other side of the door, a coffee mug in her hand and a sour expression on her face.
“Everything okay?” I check.
She glances over her shoulder towards her and Aimee’s dorm rooms before letting out a heavy breath and turning to face me once more.
“Here… you can have this. It’s old and kinda shitty, but it’s clear by the conversation we had this morning you don’t have one.”
She waggles the mug in my direction. It’s nothing fancy—plain white and chipped around the rim, but functional. I’ve never had someone just give me a random gift before, especially someone like Sage. I take it slowly, half-expecting her to withdraw, but she gives it over willingly. “Thanks… I appreciate it.”
“Don’t overthink it. You look desperate for coffee, and I’m not going to stand in the way of a woman and her caffeine. Just make sure you clean up after yourself, okay?”
“Yeah, sure. Sage, I really?—”
She doesn’t hang around to let me thank her again. Her bedroom door closes behind her before I can get another word out.
To say I’m surprised would be an understatement. That woman hasn’t said anything nice to me since I got here and now… she gives me a coffee mug?
Maybe this is a step towards friendship? I don’t know.
No time to dwell on that now, though. Coffee first, then time to get ready.
I have a feeling it”s gonna be a long day.