In the English Hall, a short, skinny girl in massively oversized clothes, held on only by belts and binder clips, went from classroom to classroom, checking for a golden Easter egg. Frustrated, the girl, Dottie, blew her short mousey curls out of her eyes and continued searching with renewed haste, as she hated being alone with her thoughts. Dottie touched her side, noting that she could still feel and even see each individual rib. The other girls worried about her, that she had no breasts to speak of, that when she “sucked it in”, people could see the faint outline of a spine. She didn’t have an eating disorder, she kept telling them, and it was the truth. It was just that, due to her upbringing, she never got to eat much, so her appetite wasted away to nothing. And speaking of food….

The dishes and laundry back at the frat house were piling up, and their bathroom was the stuff of nightmares. Dottie was tempted to clean up, and some part of her wanted to, but she knew better than that. Never cover for people. Never do a job that isn’t your own. Otherwise, people will just take advantage of you. That was one of her biggest lessons growing up. After all, her deplorable younger sister Ella always pawned responsibilities off on her, and would just take and take until…. Dottie had to stop and pull up her hand-me-up orange t-shirt; she almost fell through the neck hole again. Her few comforts were that she was able to get a scholarship in a random drawing so she could go somewhere besides Ivy League University (something she kept a secret from Ella who would have no doubt coerced away or stolen that scholarship somehow), and the fact that her poor, overworked parents wouldn’t have to worry about taking care of her anymore.

But there was guilt also. (She pulled up her sister’s short-shorts until the leg holes were comfortably above her knees.) After all, so many other members of the sorority had an unofficial role, or something they did well that contributed to the group. Fan’s history, Fran’s math, Stacey’s rules, it seems most people had something to contribute, and the best Dottie could offer was that she didn’t eat much-

A crunch beneath her feet snapped Dottie out of her aimless wandering. Looking beneath her oversized shoes, she saw several shards of golden plastic, a brass key and a slip of paper. Dottie looked at the little slip and, somewhat relieved the sentence wasn’t worse, cleaned up the mess she made and went searching for Hiti. But first, the task on her card.

In the college’s food court, Hiti, the oldest member of the sorority, had completely abandoned the search in favor of grabbing a second helping of tater tots. Between her tall, lanky look and her tendency to dress in purple suits and dresses, she always stood out in a crowd and she loved it, almost as much as she loved being in Omicron Omega Omicron. As the oldest person there (a “professional student”, if you will), she was well acquainted with how her sorority worked, and she found the right exploits to win. Basically, she knew what bets to make and when to keep her mouth shut. The result was roughly six dummies who acted as her personal servants! And if she did lose on the rare occasion (she was supposed to be doing everyone’s chores this week) she just wouldn’t say anything and either everyone would forget, or their leader would do the chores for her. All in all, a pretty sweet gig.

“Excuse me, you’re Hiti, right?” a voice asked. Hiti looked up from her tots to see a gaggle of students around her. One of them, some dude in a blue polo, was holding a clipboard.

‘Oh, boy,’ Thought Hiti, ‘here we fucking go’

“We’re from United Minorities and we were wondering if you were interested in-“

“No, I’m not. Whatever you’re selling, I ain’t buying unless it’s free.” Hiti interrupted. How dare these guys interrupt her tater tots and mustard!?

“Well…I mean, we can at least give the pitch, right? Surely, as an indigenous person yourself, you’ve felt the pressure of-“

Hiti sighed, this shit again? When will these morons leave her alone?

“Look, you guys,” she said, raising her voice a bit, “I dealt with this last week, too! For the last time, I’m not joining you guys just because I’m Inuit and you need to check off a box! That black chick with the giant hair bun? She runs my sorority! And Felicity, one of our other members, is…um, she’s…well, I don’t know, but I know those blonde curls are fake and you get the idea!”

“Are you saying you are happy with the level of representation in your sorority?”

“No, I’m saying there are other people you can go bother, now leave me alone!”

The students started to walk away. One turned back.

“Same time next week?”

“Go!”

“Fine, fine! You have some mustard on your face, by the way.”

After the students left, Hiti returned to her tots, which were growing cold. Maybe now she could get some peace and quiet. But then someone dropped a golden egg on the table next to her. She looked up in confusion and saw a boy she didn’t recognize. Whoever he was, he looked really young, like he shouldn’t be in college yet. He had a shaved head, wore a Diamondbacks t-shirt (a bit big on him) and black athletic shorts.

“I found this on my way here. I thought you were looking for them?” The boy said, annoyed.

“Look, junior, I don’t know how you got in here, but go back to high school. Your voice hasn’t even changed yet.” Hiti snapped. Seriously, what was it with people today?

“It’s me, you idiot!” The boy snapped, “I’m Dottie!”

“Dottie!? Wow, you look really convincing! What’s with the drag show?”

“It was my egg. And this,” Dottie said, thrusting the spare egg into Hiti’s chest, “is yours!”

Hiti took the egg and set it down. “So where did you get those clothes and breast bindings?”

“Well, you’d be surprised how many guys are willing to lend you clothes in exchange for your old ones. And I’m not wearing any-hey! Stop changing the subject! Come on, those girls are relying on us and you’re just ignoring them? Aren’t we enough of leeches as is?”

Realizing she was beat, Hiti opened the egg, ignored the key and read the note.

“It just says I can’t wear anything on my feet until a week or till the key is found. Seems simple enough.”

Dottie was about to say something, then thought better of it and just chose to smile instead.

“Come on, skinny, let’s head back to the house before we’re out here all day.”

No sooner had the two stepped outside than Dottie’s prediction came true.

“Ow! My feet! Ow, ow ow!” Hiti screamed as her feet touched pavement heated by a day’s worth of late summer heat. In pain, she jumped into the grass, forgetting that such heat basically makes grass blades into little brown caltrops.

“AAAAA!” Hiti screamed, jumping off the sharp grass and hard rocks back onto the burning sidewalk again. Dottie simply chuckled to herself, imagining this sort of comeuppance happening to her entitled sister. Maybe someday….