Page 53 of Divine Oaths

Stunned, I asked, “Why doesn’t Westfield talk about that history more?” Having Greek life that had been created for the abolitionist cause felt like something to celebrate. Not bury in secret.

“We live in Virginia,” Honey said. “But, mostly, the Board doesn’t want to risk losing donor money from—”

“Racists?” I said, finishing the sentence for her.

She grimaced. “Yeah. It’s awful, really. But we try and do our part in Theta to instill that history and important legacy in our members.”

I glanced back at the portrait, from Evelyn, whom Alaster’s family were descendants of, to Yara, Kasem and Jojo’s ancestor. Both women looked brave and bold in the photo, grinning from ear to ear at the completed construction of Theta House. On Yara’s dress, it wasn’t just Theta’s Greek letters patched into the fabric, but symbols not so different from the adinkra ones engraved in my mother’s Ankara dress.

Including the same peach pit adinkra that Angelica wore on her gold necklace.

“Let me introduce you to some people,” Honey hummed as we retreated farther into Theta House.

“Oh, and here.” She grabbed a drink that one of the Sigma guys was clearly in the middle of chugging and handed it to me instead, but I shook my head and she downed it herself. The guy was about to flip her off, then realized it was Honey. She blew him a kiss as thanks.

“This is Lena. That’s Remy, and Cecilia’s our chapter president. Denise—but pronounced like ‘nice’—and oh, Gina’s our finance girlie! And Sareah—with an e-a-h, though I can never remember the right spelling—is head of our charitable committee. Molly is our chapter historian, and Renee is our record keeper. Oh, and obviously there’s me, social chair, of course. Did I miss anyone? I don’t think I did, but I hope they’ll forgive me if so.”

The sea of faces came and went, most of which were color variations of the same deep fake tan and dyed blond hair that they pretended was natural. Every once in a while, there’d be a dot of melanin in the crowd. Yet all of them seemed to be in the same miniskirts or crop tops.

“There’s a small group of us in the guest room,” Honey said. She grinned. “But first…”

Before I could stop her, she whisked me away to one of the dorm rooms, where two Theta girls were talking to a few freshmen about rushing. One of the girls was from the fan boat; I was certain that she was the one who’d recognized me as Baby Mozart and tipped off Alaster.

The other freshmen I’d seen at the Rose and Ivy orientation, while one of the Theta girls looked like a junior or senior. She had warm brown skin and honey-brown eyes, her hair styled in Senegalese twists. She was dressed in jean shorts and a crop top, while the others donned the miniskirt variation of the outfit.

“Janette,” Honey shouted. “We have a birthday girl!”

Janette, the girl with the twists, squealed. “Makeover! Oh my gosh, she’s so cute,” she said, rushing over to me with her own Solo cup somehow perfectly balanced. “I want to be her Big.”

“What?” Honey said. “I was going to ask first!”

“I’m not rushing,” I said, but they seemed to be in their own world.

“I think I have something she can change into,” Janette said.

She dug through a dresser and pulled out a golden baby doll dress with thin straps and a slit. It was cute, even if it was something I normally wouldn’t be caught dead in during such a chilly night.

Outside, there was a knock on the door.

“We’re starting,” someone said, a man’s voice, and there were a few others with him.

The girls shoved me into a bathroom, and I reluctantly changed, slipping into the dress, which was slightly tight but not too restrictive. It fell just to my mid-thighs, which meant that I couldn’t bend down much without exposing myself. I styled my hair quickly, fluffing up my tightly coiled curls so they framed my face with a halo effect that I decided complemented the look. I was already wearing the dark brown lip liner and gloss combo that I usually wore to parties, and had drawn thick wings for my eyeliner.

When I left the bathroom, I was ambushed by party poppers and someone planting a tiny fun hat on my head.

“Happy birthday!” Honey shouted.

The room exploded with cheers as Theta and Sigma members congratulated me with drinks. I passed them off to others, ducked when strangers tried to offer me more. But at some point, Honey and some of the Thetas circled back with handfuls of shots. I don’t know if I’d been worn down, or if a part of me secretly wanted to give in. But I threw back a shot and the roar of cheers and the burn of liquor down my throat steeled me.

After the first drink came the second, and by the time I thought I was on my fourth, I realized I’d already lost count. Every time I drank, they’d start cheering and chanting. Eventually, I started chanting too, not understanding the words or what they meant, but feeling the warmth of them against the sting of liquor.

The world became a dizzy haze of lights and color and shadowy forms. At some point, I lost Vivian in the crowd, and Honey, Janette, and the gossipy girl from the fan boat were sitting in a circle with me and a bunch of Sigmas.

Once again, a shot was shoved into my hand.

I hadn’t eaten much that day, but now I was swimming through the world. My head was light, my vision a blurry slog, and all the people around me were distortions of themselves. All I could do was laugh and laugh and drink more.

“You all right?” Jojo’s voice said. “You’ve been throwing those back like water.”