When lunch wrapped up, Taylor said goodbye to her friends and subtly trailed behind the trio as they made their way back to their sorority house. She kept a casual distance, blending in with the crowd of other students walking through campus. As luck would have it, the sorority was in the middle of rushing, meaning a flood of eager freshmen hopefuls were gathering at the house. This worked perfectly in Taylor’s favor—she could slip in unnoticed among the unfamiliar faces, just another freshman checking out the sorority.
Inside the sorority house, the air was thick with artificial enthusiasm. The walls were decorated with banners and photos of past sisters, and the energy of the room was electric as the freshmen girls eagerly chatted among themselves, nervously hoping to impress. The trio wasted no time asserting their dominance, making sharp-tongued comments as they mingled.
Maeve smirked as she walked past a nervous-looking freshman, eyeing her up and down before muttering to Jane, "Some people really think they belong here? Please."
Jane, still slouching a bit from her newfound laziness, barely bothered to whisper when she scoffed at another girl, "She looks exhausted just standing here. She’d probably pass out during pledge week."
Avery, meanwhile, rolled her eyes at a girl who nervously stammered through an introduction. With an exaggerated sigh, she muttered, "If you can’t even introduce yourself properly, why even bother? This isn’t some charity club." A small, almost involuntary snort followed her words, but if she noticed, she didn’t acknowledge it.
Taylor smirked as she followed along, enjoying the show as the trio carried on their usual belittling behavior, unaware of what they had already started to become.
After a few minutes of mingling, Maeve clapped her hands together sharply, gathering everyone’s attention.
"Alright, ladies, listen up!" she called out, her voice full of authority as the chatter in the room died down.
Maeve took center stage, standing tall with the kind of confidence that made it clear she ruled this house.
"This sorority is the best on campus," she declared, pausing to let that statement sink in. "We don’t just let anyone in. We’re exclusive because we deserve to be. If you’re here, it means you might have what it takes—but not all of you do."
The freshmen shifted uncomfortably, exchanging nervous glances.
"At the end of rush week," Maeve continued, "three of you will be cut. Not because we want to be mean, but because not everyone belongs here." She paused, letting her eyes scan the room, as if sizing up the weak links before delivering the next line.
"Those three will be what we call our ‘Three Little Pigs’—the ones who just don’t fit the image of this sorority. And trust me, ladies, that is not a title you want."
Taylor had to stifle a laugh, pressing her lips together to keep from chuckling too loudly. Of course Maeve would say something like that. The irony was too perfect—because to Taylor, the real three little pigs were already standing front and center.
The room buzzed with activity as the freshmen nervously mingled, chatting in small clusters while the sorority sisters watched, evaluated, and judged. Taylor, satisfied with her latest edit to reality, snapped her notebook shut and slid it back into her bag. Now, all she had to do was wait.
She wandered through the room, blending into the crowd, listening for the moment one of the trio let their sharp tongues slip. It didn’t take long.
A particularly eager freshman with bouncy blonde curls and an overexcited grin approached Jane, her hands clasped nervously in front of her. “Hi! I’m Callie! I’ve wanted to rush this sorority for so long, I’m seriously so excited to be here!”
Jane barely lifted her gaze from her phone, her expression blank. With an exaggerated sigh, she muttered, "God, you’re exhausting just to listen to. Do you ever shut up?"
Taylor, standing just a few feet away, smirked as she watched Jane’s reaction. At first, nothing seemed different—but then, a slight shift in her posture. She rolled her shoulders and let out another tired sigh, but this one sounded deeper, heavier. Her eyelids drooped slightly, and her body seemed to settle deeper into itself, as if even standing up straight required too much effort. She leaned against the wall for support, barely holding herself upright. Taylor could already tell—Jane was feeling lazier.
“Um, hi,” a freshman started, offering a small smile to Avery nearby as she adjusted her glasses. “I’m Mira! I just wanted to say I really admire your style. You always look so put together.”
Avery blinked at her, lips pursing slightly. Then, she let out a small, condescending snort. She tilted her head, giving Lacey a slow once-over before wrinkling her nose. "Yeah, thanks, I guess, but… are you seriously wearing that?" she said, her voice dripping with amusement. "That outfit is, like, tragic. Did you even try?"
Mira walked away defeatedly as Avery cleared her throat, as if something felt off. Then, she exhaled sharply through her nose—a breath that sounded almost like another snort. Avery’s insults were now coming out with an unmistakable snouty quality. Not just in sound, but in attitude—the way she wrinkled her nose more often, the occasional, involuntary huff before she spoke. Taylor smirked when she heard this.
Further across the room, Maeve stood by the snack table, her eyes locked onto a nervous-looking girl who was hesitating before reaching for a cookie. The girl, a petite redhead named Aly, seemed uncertain, biting her lip as if wondering whether she should take it or not. Maeve smirked.
"If you’re already stressing over one cookie, maybe you’re not cut out for Greek life," she said coolly, crossing her arms. "We have standards, you know."
Aly flushed with embarrassment and quickly pulled her hand back, mumbling an apology before retreating into the crowd.
Taylor’s eyes snapped back to Maeve, watching for the shift. Sure enough, she caught the flicker of something almost primal in Maeve’s expression. Her eyes drifted—not to the girl, but to the cookie. Then, before she even seemed to realize what she was doing, Maeve snatched it up and took a bite.
Not a delicate, careful nibble. A bite. A big, greedy one.
And then another.
Maeve barely seemed to register what had just happened, chewing a little faster than necessary, as if suddenly ravenous. Taylor grinned. The hunger was growing.
Satisfied, Taylor continued to mingle, striking up conversations with some of the freshmen she found most interesting.
There was Callie, the bubbly blonde who seemed to have an endless supply of energy and enthusiasm, even after Jane’s insult. She was a huge sorority fangirl, already talking about future bid day outfits and social events as if she had already made it in.
Then there was Aly, the shy redhead from the snack table, who was clearly nervous about the whole rushing process. She admitted to Taylor that she wasn’t even sure if she belonged here, but she was trying to push herself out of her comfort zone.
Taylor also met Vanessa, a tall, confident girl with sleek black hair and a sharp, no-nonsense attitude. Unlike Elise, she was sure she belonged here—she just wasn’t sure if she actually liked these girls. “I don’t kiss ass for approval,” she had said with a shrug. “If they want me, they’ll pick me. If not, whatever.”
Lastly, there was Mira, a sweet, soft-spoken girl with dark brown curls and round glasses. She had a quiet intelligence about her, and unlike Callie, she wasn’t here just for the social perks. “My sister was in this sorority,” she had explained. “I wanted to see if it was right for me too.”