alumni ➢ luke hemmings [DISCONTINUED]

0.7 ➢ Poems.

Alumni ➢ 0.7
The next morning, I'm dragging my feet and I can barely keep my eyes open. It's 9am when I finally decide to leave the comfort of my bed, giving me only an hour to get ready for the long day of Delta "house training" ahead of me.

It's supposed to be initiation, but judging from what Bethany told me last night, I may as well already be a part of the damn thing. The girl just phrased certain things so cleverly that she didn't really leave me much of a choice.

"What the fuck are you wearing?" Michael's mouth falls agape as I stand in front of him, stubborn in my striped onesie, a handbag slung carelessly over my shoulder. "Please don't tell me you're wearing that on the first day of rush week,"

"Okay. Then I won't tell you," I say, pushing him out of my dorm as I make a move to lock the door.

Michael wedges his foot between the doorframe and the actual wooden slab, rolling his eyes before shuffling us back inside again, "Soph, come on. You gotta make a good first impression,"

"I just want ice cream and my bed," I whine. Then I poke at the striped material of my outfit, pulling the hood up over my head to hide my unruly mess of hair, "Figured the sooner Bethany sees me in this, the sooner I can go back to the dorm and sleep,"

"Nope, nuh-uh. I refuse to let you sabotage your start of rush week just because you're too lazy to make yourself look good," at this point, Michael's practically ripping through my wardrobe again, and I groan, "Hey, don't give me attitude. I'm trying to help you," he notes.

"Then help me by telling Bethany I died, or something," I yawn, not hesitating to flop face-first onto my covers, "I want to sleep,"

It's silent for a bit, with not even the sound of my best friend sorting through my suitcase filling the air. But then I see his shadow reach forward, and a scream leaves my mouth as Michael grabs me by the ankles and drags me off of the mattress.

"Gordon!" I scream loudly, landing on the floor with a slight thump.

"Eleanor!" Michael cries in mockery, his laugh loud and untamed at the sight of me rolling around in a groaning heap, "Oi, I'm being serious. Get some proper clothes on, you're already late,"

"Get some proper clothes on, you're already late," I mimic, receiving an amused stare from the boy himself, "Pardon me," I smile sarcastically.

Michael just rolls his eyes, obviously tired of my drama as he begins to make his way towards the small kitchenette. "Ten minutes, Hayes."

"Ten minutes, Hayes."

"Sophie," he says, a warning edge somewhat tinting his voice.

"Sorry."

➢

After a couple hours spent with Michael attempting- and succeeding- to coax me out of the dorm, I find myself standing right in front of the Delta sorority house again; much like I was a couple of days ago.

Only now, my mother isn't with me; just Chelsea. Who, in all honesty, looks just as wide-eyed and inexperienced as I do.

We're not the only ones, thank God. There are actually a few other girls around us, all thinking of pledging for Delta yet also rushing for the other houses. There's only one difference between them and me and I hate that it's evident; they can choose where they want to go. I can't.