Page 50 of Pucking Good Girl

Rubbing the back of the card against my jeans should help get rid of any excess moisture.

But the light on the flat screen by the doorbell flashes red when I again.

“Oh, come on.” I huff, frustrated. “Giovanni, can you let me in, please?”

“Can you please state the reason for your visit?”

I blink, confused. “What are you talking about? Giovanni, it’s me, Talia. I live here.”

A buffering hourglass appears on the screen. “I have no one by the name Talia on the list of the house’s current occupants. Can you confirm if Talia is your full name? I can only identify the names that have been programmed into my security software. Nicknames might not get identified unless they’ve been specifically added. In that case, stating your last name could be helpful.”

What in the world is going on?

“It’s Prescott,” I offer, stifling a shiver. The air has become chillier now that the sun is dipping low on the horizon.

The buffering hourglass returns. “Apologies, Miss Prescott. But I don’t have anyone with that name on my list of house occupants. If you’re here to visit a friend, or for business, please state the nature of your visit.”

My patience is wearing thin as I text Sam for help. Maybe Giovanni needs a software update or has caught a virus. But we need to call someone to look at him.

“Talia,” Sam opens the door a few moments later. “Did you forget your key?”

I shake my head. “No. But my card isn’t working and Giovanni didn’t seem to know who I was. Maybe I need a new keycard.”

“That bitch!” Sam snarls, ushering me inside the house. “I can’t believe she did this already.”

I don’t know what she’s talking about. “Who? Sam, I don’t understand what’s going on.”

“Genevieve,” she bites out. “She called an emergency meeting. It started with some bullshit admin stuff that wouldn’t have required the presence of the entire house. But then she revealed the real reason for the meeting. She’s trying to get you kicked out of the sorority, Talia.”

“What?” A sick feeling stirs in the pit of my stomach, ten times worse than earlier when we were gutting fish.

I wonder if this has something to do with the whole situation with Victor. Is she trying to distance herself from me in case Professor Cantucci’s T.A. decides to throw her under the bus despite her complying with his requests?

“That’s crazy. She can’t kick me out. I haven’t done anything wrong. And even if I had done something wrong, I would be entitled to defend myself. She can’t just kick me out like this.”

Sam rubs my arm in a comforting way. “That’s exactly what I told her. You got here just in the nick of time. We were about to vote on it. I’ve been trying to stall things since Gen announced it.”

Fury courses through me. Genevieve Bergen has obviously decided to destroy me. But if she thinks I’m going to let her do it without putting up a fight, she’s wrong.

My family might not have money, but if you kick us, we don’t stay down.

“The hell she will.” I clench my fists, marching toward the dining room. “I’m sick of Gen thinking she can bully people just for the sake of it and get away with it.”

The dining room is full to the brim. Every Zeta sister is present, and as usual, the seniors and juniors have seating reserved at the long mahogany tables, while the lower classmen are scattered standing behind the table.

The room looks even more chaotic than usual tonight. There are several black trash bags piled up against one of the walls behind the head of the table, where Gen is sitting, gavel in hand.

“What is she doing here?” She barks when she sees me.

“She,” I bite out. “Is here to put an end to whatever nonsense you’re trying to cause tonight.”

Genevieve leans against the back of her chair, her arms crossed over her chest. “Nice to see you, Talia.” Her glossy pink lips curl into a cruel smile. “You finally bothered to show up. See, sisters? Talia has no respect for any of us if she can’t even bother to be on time to an important, mandatory meeting. That alone makes her unworthy of being a Zeta Theta Beta.”

Murmurs fill the room as every set of eyes is focused on me.

“What are you talking about?” I argue. “I had no idea there was a meeting. If Sam hadn’t texted me⁠—”

Her little evil smirk widens. “So you can be bothered to read Sam’s texts but not the ones coming from the Zeta account?”