Page 21 of The Lake of Lost Girls

The sisters of Pi Gamma stood out. They claimed the biggest table and spoke loud enough for the whole room to hear what a great time they were having. Sitting at the Pi Gam table was akin to being in a fishbowl. But for most of my pledge sisters, this was exactly what they had signed up for. I was learning to throw myself into this new existence, though I instinctively wanted to retreat to the shadows.

Southern State University boasted three sororities and three fraternities. Each came with a well-earned reputation. And the men and women in each organization more or less fit into the stereotypes. But every once in a while there was one or two that didn’t quite fit. I wondered—and worried—whether I was one of them.

“That’s so scary,” Phoebe Baker said softly after I sat down. I gave the diminutive girl with long, bright red hair what I hoped was a reassuring smile. She gave me a hesitant smile in return. I didn’t know much about Phoebe. I knew she had grown up in a town close by. She was quiet and unassuming. I got the sense she lacked confidence, a lot like I did. The other girls were more outgoing, yet Phoebe couldn’t seem to break out of her shell. Even though I felt connected to her because of our similar dispositions, I was more determined than she was to be someone different. She seemed eager to please, and it was this eagerness, so like my own, that at times had me distancing myself from her even as we were meant to be bonding as pledge sisters. She was a reminder of the characteristics I wanted to get rid of.

“I don’t think it’s anything to be scared of, Pheebs.” Daisy’s reassurance seemed hesitant, as if she didn’t quite believe what she was saying. “Tammy’s a pain. I’m sure she’s out there somewhere spreading her particular brand of misery on someone else.”

Phoebe chewed on her bottom lip. “But what if something happened to her? Is anyone even wondering about it? I was watching a show about Ted Bundy the other night. He preyed on college age girls, too.” Phoebe looked around the table, her Bambi eyes wide with barely contained fright.

“Bundy’s been dead for years, Phoebe,” Daisy countered.

“I’m not saying it’s Ted Bundy. Maybe someonelikeTed Bundy.” Phoebe was practically wringing her hands.

Everyone shared a look. It would be easy to dismiss Phoebe’s concerns as paranoia, yet no one did. Because as a woman, simply existing made you vulnerable. The papers were full of stories of missing women—murderedwomen—the possibility was very, very real.

Daisy met my eyes. “Could that be what happened to her?” she asked me, wanting reassurance.

“I think we should look a little closer to home and maybe go ask Dr. Daniels.” Erica Stead, a classic mean girl with a cutting tongue, wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, making the rest of the table, except for Phoebe, break into laughter tinged with relief. It was better to imagine a sordid scandal than a murderous stranger in our midst.

“So itisDr. Daniels she’s been seeing!” Daisy shrieked, loving that she had been right.

Erica looked smug. “Yep. Have you checked him out? He’s seriously hot for an older guy. And if you’re in one of his stat courses, you know how … um … hands on he is with his students.”

“Do you think he had something to do with her disappearance?” Daisy asked.

I didn’t want to focus on this. I wanted to forget about it and move on. But I couldn’t. Because it held my morbid, self-destructive interest.

“There’s no way Dr. Daniels was involved with her. He’s not that kind of man,” Phoebe argued primly, her voice trembling slightly with the effort it must have taken for her to speak up.

“And how do you know what kind of man he is, Pheebs?” Erica asked luridly.

Phoebe drew herself upright. “I have him for Intro to Probability and he’s a wonderful teacher. He has ethics and morals and—”

“Until he sees a girl in a short skirt,” Daisy muttered.

Blair Atkins, a sweet, pretty sophomore, leaned forward, her skin flushed. “My roommate is in his 8:00 class and the TA taught this morning. Dr. Daniels never showed up. She heard from a couple of girls who seemed to know the professorreallywell—” Daisy and Erica shared a conspiratorial look, “that Tammy had shown up at his office last Friday making a scene. She was crying and begging to talk to him.” Everyone was listening in fascination.

“What could that have been about? Did he dump her?” Daisy pondered. While she wouldn’t outright say it, I knew she was enjoying the thought of our RA being kicked to the curb.

“Maybe she’s pregnant,” Erica added.

“Stop it,” Phoebe said, but her voice was too quiet to be heard by anyone else but me.

“Oh my god, can you even imagine? After all the crap she gives us about sleeping around and being careful. What a hypocrite,” Daisy said in disgust.

“Ooh, or what if she was threatening to tell his wife?” Tina Spencer, another pledge who also lived in Westwood, added.

“And he decided to shut her up,” Erica crowed.

“This isn’t a TV movie, guys. This is someone’s actual life. You can’t go around making baseless claims against Dr. Daniels. It’s bordering on slander,” Phoebe said in obvious disdain.

The other girls rolled their eyes. Phoebe’s moral aversion wouldn’t derail them from dissecting the gossip.

“Like I said, Phoebe, I’m sure this will all get figured out,” I said placatingly. The other girls’ delight was making me uncomfortable. And Phoebe’s obvious distress didn’t help. She looked like she was going to puke.

“So, who’s going to the mixer at the Sigma Kappa Phi house on Saturday?” I asked, talking over their giddy chatter in an attempt to change the subject.

“Abso-freaking-lutely!” Erica exclaimed as she and Daisy pumped their fists. “They have the cutest pledges on campus.”

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