The Dare - Elle Kennedy Page 0,1
that or kiss something as “frivolous and self-indulgent” as a music major goodbye. She comes from a family of doctors, so her decisions are already heavily contested.
For me, well, I suppose I had grand designs of a college glow up. From high school loser to college It Crowd. A reinvention. Total life makeover. Thing is, joining their clubs and wearing their letters and enduring their weeks of sacramental indoctrination didn’t have the desired effects. I didn’t come out the other side all shiny and new. It’s like everyone else drank the Kool-Aid and saw the pretty colors, but I was just left standing there in the dark with a cup of water and red food coloring.
“Hey!” a bleary-eyed guy greets us, staggering to sidle up next to Sasha while openly talking to my tits. We tend to make one perfectly desirable female when standing side-by-side. Her exquisite facial symmetry and slender figure, and my enormous rack. “You wanna drink?”
“We’re good,” Sasha shouts back over the pounding music. We both hold up our mostly full cups. A strategic device to keep the horny frat bros at bay.
“Wanna dance?” he then asks, leaning toward my chest like he’s speaking into the box at a fast food drive-thru.
“Sorry,” I retort, “they don’t dance.”
I don’t know if he hears me or understands my contempt, but he nods and strolls away just the same.
“Your boobs have a gravitational force that only attracts douchebags,” Sasha says with a snort.
“You have no idea.”
One day I woke up and it was like two massive tumors just erupted on my chest. Ever since middle school I’ve had to walk around with these things that arrive everywhere ten minutes before I do. I’m not sure which of us is the greater hazard to each other, me or Sasha. My boobs or her face. She causes a stir just walking into the library. Dudes stumbling over themselves to stand in her presence and forget their own names.
A loud pop bursts through the house, causing everyone to cringe and cover their ears. Silence ensues in the confusion while our eardrums drown in the lingering echoes of tinnitus.
“Speaker’s blown!” one of our sisters yells from the next room.
Boos fill the house.
A mad scramble ensues as Kappas scurry to find a quick fix to save the party before our restless guests revolt. Sasha doesn’t even try to hide her excitement. She eyes me with a look that says we may get to escape this party early after all.
Then Abigail Hobbes happens.
We see her sashay through the tightly packed crowd in a skimpy little black dress, platinum hair curled into perfect tendrils. She claps her hands, and in a voice that could cut glass, demands all attention fall on her bright red lips.
“Listen up, everybody! It’s time to play Dare or Dare.”
Cheers erupt in response as the living room swells with more bodies. The game is a popular Kappa tradition, and it’s exactly what it sounds like. Someone dares you to do something and you do it—no truth option. Occasionally amusing and often brutal, it’s resulted in more than a few arrests, at least one expulsion, and rumor has it, even a couple babies.
“Now let’s see…” Our house vice president puts one manicured finger to her chin and turns in a slow circle to survey the room, deciding on her first victim. “Who shall it be?”
Of course her evil green eyes land squarely on where Sasha and I are plastered against the wall. Abigail strides up to us with pure sugary malice.
“Oh, sweetie,” she says to me, with the glassy stare of a girl who’s had a few too many. “Loosen up, it’s a party. You look like you just found another stretch mark.”
Abigail’s a mean drunk, and I’m her favorite target. I’m used to it from her, but the laughs she elicits every time she uses my body as a punchline never fail to leave a scar. My curves have been the bane of my existence since I was twelve years old.
“Oh, sweetie,” Sasha mimics, making a show of flashing her the bird. “How about you eff right off?”
“Aww, come on,” Abigail whimpers in a mocking baby voice. “Tay-Tay knows I’m just kidding.” She punctuates her statement by poking my stomach like I’m a goddamn Pillsbury Doughgirl.
“We’re keeping your thinning hairline in our thoughts, Abs.”
I have to chomp down on my bottom lip to stop from laughing at Sasha’s retort. She knows I disintegrate amid conflict and never shies away from a chance to