Page 2 of The Dare

A loudpopbursts through the house, causing everyone to cringe and cover their ears. Silence ensues in the confusion while our eardrums drown in the lingering echoes of tinnitus.

“Speaker’s blown!” one of our sisters yells from the next room.

Boos fill the house.

A mad scramble ensues as Kappas scurry to find a quick fix to save the party before our restless guests revolt. Sasha doesn’t even try to hide her excitement. She eyes me with a look that says we may get to escape this party early after all.

Then Abigail Hobbes happens.

We see her sashay through the tightly packed crowd in a skimpy little black dress, platinum hair curled into perfect tendrils. She claps her hands, and in a voice that could cut glass, demands all attention fall on her bright red lips.

“Listen up, everybody! It’s time to play Dare or Dare.”

Cheers erupt in response as the living room swells with more bodies. The game is a popular Kappa tradition, and it’s exactly what it sounds like. Someone dares you to do something and you do it—no truth option. Occasionally amusing and often brutal, it’s resulted in more than a fewarrests, at least one expulsion, and rumor has it, even a couple babies.

“Now let’s see…” Our house vice president puts one manicured finger to her chin and turns in a slow circle to survey the room, deciding on her first victim. “Who shall it be?”

Of course her evil green eyes land squarely on where Sasha and I are plastered against the wall. Abigail strides up to us with pure sugary malice.

“Oh, sweetie,” she says to me, with the glassy stare of a girl who’s had a few too many. “Loosen up, it’s a party. You look like you just found another stretch mark.”

Abigail’s a mean drunk, and I’m her favorite target. I’m used to it from her, but the laughs she elicits every time she uses my body as a punchline never fail to leave a scar. My curves have been the bane of my existence since I was twelve years old.

“Oh, sweetie,” Sasha mimics, making a show of flashing her the bird. “How about you eff right off?”

“Aww, come on,” Abigail whimpers in a mocking baby voice. “Tay-Tay knows I’m just kidding.” She punctuates her statement by poking my stomach like I’m a goddamn Pillsbury Doughgirl.

“We’re keeping your thinning hairline in our thoughts, Abs.”

I have to chomp down on my bottom lip to stop from laughing at Sasha’s retort. She knows I disintegrate amid conflict and never shies away from a chance to trade barbs in my defense.

Abigail answers with a sarcastic laugh.

“Are we playing or not?” demands Jules Munn, Abigail’s sidekick. The tall brunette saunters over to us, donning a bored look. “What’s the matter? Sasha trying to back out from doing a dare again like she did at the Harvest Bash?”

“Fuck off,” Sasha shoots back. “You dared me to throw a brick through the dean’s window. I wasn’t about to get expelled over some juvenile sorority game.”

Jules arches a brow. “Did she just insult an age-old tradition, Abs? Because I think she did.”

“Oh, she did. But no worries, here’s your chance for redemption, Sasha,” Abigail offers sweetly, then pauses. “Hmm. I dare you to…” She turns toward her spectators while contemplating the dare. She’s nothing if not in it for the attention. Then she snaps back around to face Sasha. “Do the Double Double then sing the chapter symphony.”

My best friend snorts and shrugs, as if to say,Is that all?

“Upside down and backwards,” Abigail adds.

Sasha curls her lips and sort of snarls at her, which gets the guys in the room hooting in amusement. Dudes love catfights.

“Whatever.” Rolling her eyes, Sasha steps forward and shakes out her arms like a boxer warming up for a fight.

The Double Double is another Kappa party tradition, which entails downing two double shots of whatever’s lying around, then a ten-second beer bong followed by a ten-second keg stand. Even the sturdiest drinkers among us rarely make it through the gauntlet. Throwing a handstand on top of it while singing the house song backwards is just Abigail being a spiteful bitch.

But as long as it won’t get her expelled, Sasha is never oneto back down from a challenge. She ties her thick black hair in a ponytail and accepts the shot glass that materializes out of nowhere, dutifully tossing back one shot, then the next. She powers through the beer bong while a couple Theta guys hold up the funnel for her, the crowd around her screaming their encouragement. To a cacophony of cheers, she muscles her way past the keg stand with a six-three hockey player keeping her legs in the air. When she’s right-side up again, everyone’s impressed to see her even able to stand, much less looking mean and holding steady. That girl’s a warrior.

“Stand back!” Sasha declares, clearing people from the far wall.

With a gymnast’s flourish, she thrusts her arms in the air and then sort of half-cartwheels so that her backside is flush against the wall in a handstand. Loud and confident, she belts out the words to our house song in reverse while the rest of us stupidly try to keep up in our heads to make sure she’s getting it right.

Then, when she’s done, Sasha completes an elegant dismount back to her feet and gives the crowd a bow to resounding applause.

---