Page 9 of The Lake of Lost Girls

I had to wait a few minutes before one of the shower stalls was available. I made sure to wash quickly, knowing there would be a line of impatient women timing me down to the second if I took too long. After I quickly got dressed, I headed back to my room.

The door opened as I got there, a tall, red-headed guy shuffled out into the hallway, bumping into me with a mumbled apology before continuing his walk of shame toward the stairwell.

Daisy was brushing her teeth in the sink in the corner, her long, golden-brown hair tied up in a bun on top of her head.

“I am so sorry ‘bout that. I know I should have called the room and let you know I was bringing someone back, but the night got away from me, and before I knew it, we were here,” she apologized.

“Good thing I wear heavy-duty earplugs to bed, huh?” I teased. I grabbed a notebook and some pens and threw them in my book bag. My first class was in less than an hour, and I needed to grab breakfast first.

Daisy snorted. “It’s not like you would have heard anything. The asshole passed out as soon as we got here. So, not only was I left unsatisfied, but I had zero room to sleep.” She rolled her eyes and got back in bed, turning on the TV that sat propped on a pile of JCPenney catalogs atop a built-in shelf in the corner. Jerry Springer’s nasally voice blared through the speakers.

“How can you watch that crap?” I asked, indicating the two women tearing each other’s hair out on the screen.

“It’s social commentary, my judgy friend,” Daisy explained.

“Social commentary?” I laughed.

“Absolutely. Take these two.” She pointed at the women. “That piece of shit sitting on the side loves all of this because they’re choosing to attack each other instead of the cheating scum they were both sleeping with. It reeks of internalized misogyny.”

I snorted. “Sounds like you’re reaching, Daisy. I don’t think Jerry Springer is that deep.”

“I just think it’s shitty that when a guy cheats, the first thing we all do is blame the other woman. But do you ever stop and wonder why that is?” Daisy sat up straighter. “Because a male-dominated society has conditioned us to vieweach otheras the enemy.”

I had discovered over the past few weeks that my flighty roommate definitely harbored a major feminist streak. When she got on a rant, there was nothing I—or anyone else—could do to stop her. At times, it seemed so at odds with her personality, but she would be the first to tell you a woman can beallthings, whether they were contradictory or not.

I shrugged, neither agreeing or disagreeing. “Have you seen my ID?” I asked, looking around for the small piece of plastic that I needed to get breakfast.

“You lost yoursagain?” Daisy teased. “Take mine. It’s on my desk.” She pointed to the mess of papers and books on her side of the room.

Stepping over heaps of clothes and text books in the cramped space, I grabbed Daisy’s school ID and tucked it into my pocket.

The dorm room was tiny by most standards, only nine feet by sixteen feet. Two twin beds and two desks had been squeezed in along with a mini fridge and microwave Daisy had brought from home. Our closet, which was filled mostly with Daisy’s clothes, was covered by a shower curtain, and the walls were papered with dozens of posters of movies and bands, which was my contribution to our living area.

Daisy was a total slob, and I had taken to cleaning up after her if I wanted to be able to walk across the floor. But we had become close friends in a short time. We had bonded over the similarities between my helicopter mother and her conservative Catholic family. Even though we were opposites in many ways, we empathized with each other’s need for freedom.

“Want to come with me and grab a donut?”

Daisy made a face. “I don’t know how you can eat that fried fat. I think I’ve taken on your freshman fifteen.”

I mussed her hair. “You’re gorgeous, Daisy, and you know it. Mr. Redhead definitely knew it too.”

Daisy swatted my hand away. “Whatever, you’re biased,” she muttered, though she smiled, enjoying the compliment.

I checked the time on my watch. “Crap, I’ve got to go.”

“Wait,” Daisy called out as I was about to leave. “You’re still going to the Pi Gamma Delta pledge mixer with me tonight, right?”

“Sure, is this for more social commentary?” I joked to cover my nerves.

“Whatever. We can’t be women warriors all the time. Sometimes we want to get drunk and flirt with the hottest guys on campus,” Daisy exclaimed with enthusiasm.

I never pictured myself as the sorority type. That was more my mom’s thing. I had heard stories about her time in the Pi Gamma sorority my entire life. It was expected I’d be a sister, becauseshewas a sister.

“You’re a legacy!”she had cried before I left for school in August, as if the choice had already been made for me. She had also attended Southern State, and it felt as though she was setting a path for me that she had already traveled.

There was a twinge of defiance when Daisy suggested we go to the rush event that was brought on by a need to separate myself from my mother’s history. But I had to admit I was drawn to the pretty girls laughing together in tight-knit groups, looking like they were having the time of their lives. “I’ll be there. But I have to meet you at the Pi Gamma house because my class isn’t done until 6:00 and I want to grab dinner first.”

There was a knock at the door, and I barely had time to move before it swung open and Tammy Estep, our Resident Advisor, walked in.

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