Death May Disagree

Chapter 3

I bring a hand over my yawning mouth, my face stretching its usual way except now it's caked under foundation and blush. Demi's makeup magic took about an hour away from my sleep cycle, but I can see its necessity now. The girls surrounding us are the prettiest I have ever seen in my life, and they are our competition for a shot at a sorority.

Demi nervously presses down on her skirt and mine. "We should've ironed this morning," she said.

"You ironed them last night. It's fine," I tell her, swatting her hand away.

I didn't think about joining a sorority before, but here we are, at Bid Day, waiting to be sorted into the house of our preference. After an intense week of interviews with sorority members, of questions that were supposed to be icebreakers - what did you do over the summer and where did you go to highschool and tell me about yourself - talking with Demi and other candidates about our nervousness is a nice respite. I would rather talk about shared experiences than about myself. I think it makes for better conversation, especially since my first and second choice of sorority didn't choose me back.

Demi was sometimes interviewed in front of multiple sorority members at once, even invited back for extended interviews, so I wasn't surprised at the number of callbacks she got. And when we opened our envelopes containing the formal invitation and approval to one of our preferred sororities, Demi got into Lambda Theta Alpha, her first choice, and I got into none.

Later, I'll tell Demi I'm fine, but for now, she runs with the other Lambda Theta Alpha pledges to sorority row. On the plus side, Demi won't be moving into the house until next quarter, so even if I wasn't granted membership into the same house, we can still live together. I walk back to my dorm to nap for a few hours, making my way to Demi after the sun's set when I assume that she and her sorority sisters are done celebrating. A guy walks by me on the sidewalk, scanning the houses as he goes. He walks to the end of sorority row and turns around, scanning the houses again.

"Which house are you looking for?" I bellow.

"Alpha Theta Lambda," he says, unsure.

"This is Lambda Theta Alpha," I say, pointing behind me. "Did you mean this?"

He nods slowly, checks something on his phone, then nods again. "Yup. Weird letters."

"Yeah, I had to look them up, too."

"Well, thanks," he says and walks away.

"That is one heartbroken man," says Doom. He's appeared behind the bushes, walking up to me with his hands in his pockets and his head hung.

"How can you tell?" I ask.

Doom's arms stretch the width of his pants from his pocket holes. "He was looking for a sorority house of one sorority girl, and she wasn't outside to meet him."

Sensing his supercilious tone, I fold my arms. "Well, I couldn't be of help to him if I tried. I didn't get into Lambda Theta Alpha."

"Yeah, different strokes for different folks. I thought mine was to become an Agent of Death, and it is. But some days, I wonder..."

Doom trails off, so I prompt him. "Wonder... what?"

He shrugs. "Why war? People can have ideas but they don't have to kill themselves over it, you know? I mean..."

A gust of wind blows a couple of leaves our way, and I wait for the air to settle down to give Doom a chance to resume talking. His curt and cryptic way of speaking now isn't wholly unfamiliar, but a shiver still goes down my spine every time he does. When he doesn't move his lips, I ask, "Whose souls are you collecting this week?"