Greek Secrets: Sisterhood and Scandals

Kendall's POV

I've always dreaded Thanksgiving break. The tension between me and my family, the expectations that feel so suffocating—this year was supposed to be different. I was supposed to relax, but instead, my mind couldn't escape one thing: Olive. The distance between us, the silence, the confusion. I was trying to ignore it, to pretend everything was fine, but it wasn't.

It got worse the moment I checked my phone on the drive home. YikYak was blowing up, and as soon as I opened the app, I felt like I was suffocating. I scrolled through post after post, and I couldn't ignore the ugly accusations being thrown at Olive.

"KD barely sold tickets for AllSing."
"KD's president is a joke."
"KD's chapter is falling apart."

My stomach churned as I read. I couldn't believe it. Were they talking about *me*? Were they really saying all this about *my* chapter, *my* sisters? And the worst part? They were saying Olive was the one behind it. Her name kept popping up, accused of spreading rumors about KD, calling us out, making us look bad.

I didn't want to believe it. I couldn't. Olive? The same Olive who I had spent hours with, who I had shared everything with? I didn't want to imagine she could be the one responsible. I wanted to think it was all just some horrible mistake, but the more I scrolled, the harder it was to ignore. There were comments calling her out by name, accusing her of orchestrating all of this.

As the car rolled down the highway, I could feel the tears starting to build. I tried to push them down, but they wouldn't go away. By the time we arrived at my parents' house, I could barely focus on anything. Dinner felt like it was happening on another planet. Everyone around me was talking, laughing, and there I was, struggling to keep it together. I couldn't stop thinking about the posts, about Olive. Was she really doing this? Was she the one causing all of this chaos?

I didn't get much of a chance to think about it before my mom came into my room after dinner. I was sitting on my bed, still reeling, when she walked in with a laundry basket and glanced at the nightstand. Her eyes landed on the Polaroid of me and Olive from that weekend we spent together—before everything got so complicated.

"What's this?" she asked, pointing at the photo.

I froze, panic flooding me. "It's nothing, Mom," I muttered, quickly shoving the photo into the drawer. I didn't want her to see it. I didn't want her to ask questions I didn't have answers for.

She raised an eyebrow, clearly not fooled. "Uh-huh. Are you sure? Because it looks like something to me."

I couldn't meet her gaze. I knew she could see right through me. "It's just a photo," I said quickly, trying to change the subject. "From, like, months ago. No big deal."

She gave me a look, one that told me she wasn't buying it. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

I stayed quiet for a moment, unsure of what to say. I wanted to tell her everything, but the words felt too heavy. "It's not a big deal, Mom. I'm just... trying to figure things out."

Her tone softened, and she sat down next to me on the bed. "I know you are, sweetheart. But if you care about someone, maybe it's time to admit it. And if she cares about you, she'll want you to be honest with her."

My heart skipped a beat. My mom didn't even have to say Olive's name. I knew exactly who she was talking about. The truth was, I didn't know what to think about Olive anymore. Was she really the person I thought she was? Or was she the one behind all this drama, pulling strings, trying to tear me apart?

"I don't know, Mom," I said, feeling a lump in my throat. "I don't know if I can trust her anymore."

"Sweetheart," she said gently, "I think you need to talk to her. You won't know what's really going on unless you do."

I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell her everything, but I didn't even know what *everything* was. All I knew was that I was so scared. Scared of what I was feeling. Scared of what Olive was doing. Scared of what could happen if I confronted her.

As I sat there, staring at the photo of me and Olive, my mom's words lingered in my mind. Maybe I did need to talk to her. Maybe we both needed to face the truth, whatever that truth was. But part of me wasn't ready for what that might mean.

I felt lost. I didn't know if I was ready to hear what Olive might have to say. Or worse, what I might have to admit to myself.

TO BE CONTINUED...