Rushing to Die by Lindsay Emory Read Free Book Online Page B

Holden?”
    â€œNo one, but I said I would talk to him.”
    Casey chuckled. “Yes, but you don’t have to give him what he wants. We’ve had this conversation before.”
    Yes, we had. It was Casey’s favorite topic to discuss before any date I had, along with how to keep my skin dewy, not oily, under stress.
    â€œFlip the script on him. Use it as an opportunity to promote Delta Beta, and when he asks a tricky question—­”
    â€œGive him a Miss America answer,” I finished.
    â€œYou got this,” Casey affirmed. “And get his number, so I can follow up with him.”
    As always, Casey was supersmart about all things. After being friends for so many years, why hadn’t I remembered that he could solve basically all my problems with some good advice and a beautiful gift basket.
    â€œI really love the basket,” I told him again, wanting to move on from depressing talk about reporters who wanted to libel my chapter.
    â€œI wanted to get you all the things you needed for rush. Do you love it?”
    I pulled out a small envelope with the distinctive green mermaid logo on it. “You know I love my Starbucks.” And it wasn’t just a coffee-­shop gift card. There were chocolate-­covered coffee beans, several bottles of 5 Hour Energy, and a box of organic No Doz.
    â€œIt’s herbal,” Casey explained when I commented on the meds. “Nothing to worry about there.”
    There was a miniature measuring tape, a box of Band-­Aids, a tin of extrastrong mints (handy after copious amounts of caffeine), an extra phone charger, three cute Delta-­Beta-­themed hair ties, and a mysterious black canister.
    â€œIs this . . .” I paused. It wasn’t hair spray. “Is this MACE?”
    Casey sighed. “Pepper spray. I’m pretty sure Mace is illegal.”
    The canister felt heavier than it should have been in my palm. “Why did you get me pepper spray?”
    â€œJust in case. You never know; remember what happened that year at Tulane?” A creepy old man had hidden in the bushes during the sorority parties and exposed himself, having his own little Mardi Gras celebration. But surely, deviants weren’t around here, at Sutton College.
    Or were they? I gently pressed a thumb on the trigger of the pepper spray. When the time came, I would be ready, for whatever happened.

 
    Chapter Eight
    G INN IFER SHOUTED A warning over the megaphone, and I glanced at my watch. It was time for our afternoon sisterhood-­bonding session, as important as stringing twinkle lights and painting the giant wooden letters that would grace our front lawn during rush. The plan was a coffee break and catching up on the latest episode of Grey’s Anatomy , but as I walked into the chapter room, I knew a change of plans was in order.
    When everyone had coffee, I asked Ginnifer if I could use her megaphone and wheeled out the whiteboard we used for choreographing the dances for the skits. I wrote the numbers one through five. “Before we get to Grey’s Anatomy , I have to go over these with you one more time.”
    The ladies might have groaned. Probably just from the satisfaction they were getting from hot, foamy milk and extra shots.
    â€œTop five Panhellenic rush rules!” I shouted through the Gineral’s megaphone, which brought the entire Deb chapter to attention. I could see the benefits to these gadgets.
    I pointed at a junior with suspiciously unsmudged eyeliner. Apparently, someone had too much free time. “Tell us one.”
    She nodded solemnly. “No talking to other chapters.”
    â€œRIGHT!” My bark shot through the room as if on performance enhancers. I put down the megaphone. “Why do we have this rule?”
    A curvy blond in the front row raised her hand. “Because they don’t want us to gang up on each other.”
    I paused because that wasn’t a bad idea. We could