Aamee walked over to a chair that she banned anyone else from sitting in during meetings. She considered the floral upholstered monstrosity some kind of throne.
I moved to the front of the group. “I know everyone has other commitments, so I’ll be as brief as possible. You’re all aware that I’ve been removed from the house due to a misunderstanding and an arcane rule that has been unfairly enforced.”
“Here you go with this again.”
I could practically hear the eye roll in Aamee’s words.
“But as it turns out, Zeta Eta Chi isn’t a tyranny,” I continued. “The rules don’t begin and end with the president.”
Aamee sat up straighter in her chair, her lips pressing into a thin line.
“A sister has the right to appeal a decision if she feels she’s been treated unjustly.”
Aamee scoffed. “And you think appealing to me will get me to change my mind?”
I turned to look at her. “No. I don’t appeal to you. I appeal to them.” I gestured toward the roomful of women. “My sisters can reverse your decision if they feel it was made with bias.”
Aamee launched herself from the chair so quickly, I expected to see a jetpack attached to her ass. “This is such horseshit. You know you were in violation of the rule. There’s no arguing that.”
I shrugged. “Lucky for me, I don’t have to, because the first motion I would like to make is for us to hold a vote as to the merit of that rule.” I turned toward my sisters. “We’ve all had boys in our rooms. The fact that Aamee chose to enforce it only with me shows her clear bias against me, which guarantees me the right to appeal her decision. But rather than putting all of you into the awkward position of overruling her, I’d rather turn our focus to striking the rule from the handbook entirely. It would come down to a simple majority vote.”
Aamee stepped closer to me, rage emanating from her. “And just who the hell are you that you think you can go around changing rules that have been in place since the founding of our chapter? Your mother would be appalled.”
Her words stung, but I refused to let it show. The fact was, my mother would be appalled. As a former president, she held high regard for the position, even if a complete nitwit was currently occupying it.
“Rules change as the world does. When that was written, it would have been scandalous to have been caught with a boy in your room. Now it’s a common occurrence. There’s no reason it can’t be amended or disregarded entirely.”
Aamee glared at me for another few seconds before I watched her entire body relax. She turned toward our sisters and smoothed a hand down her white blouse before clasping her hands in front of her.
“I would like to remind all of you that any change to our code of conduct needs to be brought to the attention of the dean of student affairs,” she said. “And from there, news of the change will no doubt spread. I can just hear the rumors now. That we’re running some kind of brothel over here. Is that what we want people to think of Zeta Eta Chi? That we’re a bunch of sluts whose bedrooms have revolving doors of men coming and going at will?”
My sisters looked at one another, reluctance all over their faces. Even though sorority girls were often labeled as judgmental bitches, we often were also judged harshly. It was already difficult to overcome the stereotype of being vapid whores, and Aamee was playing right into that fear with her monologue.
“Do we even need to vote on it? Or is it clear where we stand?” Aamee’s voice was smug as the girls looked around at one another as if torn on what to do. But no one called for a vote, and Aamee took that silence as the victory it was.
“I still have the right to appeal your decision,” I said.
Sighing, as if I was a nuisance as insignificant as a fruit fly, Aamee turned to look at me again. “If they appeal my decision, they’ll basically be doing what they’ve all just decided they don’t want—changing the rules to allow boys to sleep over in our rooms. Overruling me shows that they’re okay with me not enforcing the rules, which ultimately makes the rules worthless. I think that’s a slippery slope. Don’t you?”
“You’ve never enforced the rule before. Doing so only with me shows your bias against me.”
“Maybe I just never caught anyone before. Don’t forget, I’ve only been president since Abigail graduated in May. And since no one was around all summer…” Aamee let her words die off. The implication was clear.
She stepped into my space and smiled wolfishly. “You’ll never win against me,” she whispered. “Haven’t you embarrassed yourself enough?”
Anger coiled in my stomach as if it were a jack-in-the-box. One more turn of the crank would send it shooting outward. And of course, if anyone was going to crank it that last bit, it would be Aamee.
“Or more importantly, haven’t you embarrassed the legacy of your mother enough?” Aamee turned away from me after delivering what she thought was the death blow. “I think we can dismiss this meeting unless anyone has any other issues they’d like to raise.”
When no one said anything, everyone began to get up from their seats.
“Wait!” I called. “I have another motion.”
Aamee looked pissed off as the girls looked at me expectantly. I cleared my throat. “The rules allow someone who was previously unqualified to be president to run when that qualification is met if the previously elected president ran unopposed. As a sophomore last year, I wasn’t allowed to run. But now I’m a junior, and therefore eligible. And since no one opposed you, I’m now allowed to do so.”
“That’s not how that rule works,” Aamee argued.
“No? Because that’s what it says. As soon as I became a junior, I was entitled to run.”
“But…” Aamee seemed to flounder for words. “I’ve already begun my presidency.”
“If you’re as fit for the office as you claim, you should win by a landslide.”
Aamee was looking a little pale, but she kept her shoulders square and her head high. “This is ridiculous. You’re creating drama for no reason. None of our sisters will support someone rocking the boat like this.”
I looked at her with determination I didn’t feel. “I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”
Chapter Eleven
D R E W
Rafferty’s wasn’t as packed as I’d ever seen it, but I’d been pouring drinks steadily since my shift started at eight. Our regulars littered the bar, while a few groups gathered around the pool tables and dart boards.
“Drew, how those college classes been treating ya?” Max, one of our regulars, asked. He was a widower who lived a block away and came in for drinks a few times a week. He always took an interest in my life, and I appreciated the man for it.
I picked up his empty glass and wiped down the bar. “Pretty well. I haven’t gotten anything lower than a B yet.”
“Attaboy. My Olive was a schoolteacher. She always wanted to become a professor, but the timing was never right, and then we were out of time.” He paused for a second, his shoulder hunching a bit. “Anyway, good for you for working hard and bettering yourself. I’m damn proud of you.”