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possible.
    Sam and I weren’t as rude to each other anymore. The smart little comments, keeping our things labeled in the refrigerator, or staying longer in the bathroom to irritate the other were dismissed over the last days. However, we were not tight, either. So whatever was in my envelope was my business. Whatever was in hers, she could share if she wanted, but I wasn’t going to pry.
    â€œThanks, you can hand that to me,” I said to her, extending my hand as I waited for the envelope addressed to Cassidy Cross.
    â€œYou don’t want to open them together?” she asked as her body jumped nervously. “I’ve really been praying about us working through our differences. I do care a lot for you. Cassidy, please give me another chance.”
    â€œFine,” I said sarcastically, and I vented even more. “I don’t know how we went wrong, where we veered off. Oh! I guess I do know, you let other people—”
    â€œI know, I know, I know,” Sam said. “I’m sorry. I know you and I don’t think alike, but we do live together. It’s not just because I have to get along with you that I want us to reconnect, it’s because I miss you. I want our sisterhood back.”
    She reached out to hug me. I had to dig deep then, and I realized I did miss her as well. As far as I knew, she hadn’t put my business out in the street, so even though we’d had turmoil, she had still remained somewhat loyal. Sam was a great girl, and I was a better person with her as my friend, not my foe. I hugged her.
    Holding me tight, she said, “Thank you, Cass. Thanks for forgiving me.”
    â€œThank you for saving me,” I said, remembering that she had cared about me when I didn’t care about myself.
    When we pulled apart, she handed me my letter. “Both of our letters look just alike, so let’s open them together. Good thing is, I heard that if you get a letter quickly that means you have to pay your membership fee. The other people who didn’t make the line receive their letters from Grand Chapter, which is going to take a little longer, so I think we both got in!”
    â€œAll right, let’s open them. One, two, three,” I said, and we tore open the letters together. We both skimmed, and suddenly we were jumping up and down—until I read the fine print that said a cashier’s check or money order in the amount of seven hunded fifty dollars needed to be paid by midnight the next day.
    I did the only thing I could do—I called some of the Betas from back home. The two who had written my recommendation letter and who had mentored me when I was younger rounded up the Alumni chapter and wired me the money that night. They didn’t have to do it, but I guess because of the love and support of the sisterhood, it was no big deal. I appreciated the monetary gesture and would forever be grateful. If it weren’t for them, there would be no BGP for me.
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    It was fall in Arkansas, and the temperature the next morning was dropping, particularly in the wee hours. I was hesitant to pull into the abandoned parking lot to give my money to the chapter, but then I saw some bright lights flash at me. I guessed it was some sort of sign that it was cool for me to park. But after all that had happened to me in the beginning of the school year, I just wasn’t sure. I opened my glove compartment and put the mace in my pocket, grabbed my cell phone, and kept it in my hand, ready to dial 911 in the event of any kind of emergency. Then Torian came out of the darkness, and even with the serious look plastered on her face, I felt more at ease.
    â€œDo you have the money?” she asked snottily. I started to say something sassy, but I knew this was a part of the pledging process. However, when she sassed up to me with her head swinging and her mouth poked out, I knew we weren’t there for congratulatory remarks.
    â€œEven though you said