Masked Insanity (Harry Styles)

Chapter 12: Picture-Perfect?

“Alright, we’ll have to make this quick; I have a class to get to,” Sierra said. She motioned me towards her with her dainty hands. I was struggling to get my suitcase up the endless stairs leading to the chapter house. I had stumbled backwards a couple of times, the heavy baggage causing me to lose my balance, but I knew I wasn’t getting any help from her. Her freshly manicured nails received priority over my safety.

Once I was at the top, I stood in place and rested my palms on my knees, breathing heavily in and out. I muttered a string of curse words under my breath when I noticed that the suitcase was missing its wheels. In dismay, I looked back down the marble stairs to see the four wheels rolling to the bottom.

“Come along now, we have a lot of ground to cover,” Sierra admonished, her voice thick with a heavy South African accent. She took short, quick steps across the walkway, her heels clicking across the concrete. She was sporting an aztec print body-hugging dress that accentuated her every curve. Her naturally curly hair fell in dark ringlets down her back. She made me feel homeless, in my plain v-neck, jeans, and ponytail.

I took a deep breath, preparing myself, and firmly grasped the straps of my bag. With a loud grunt, I began dragging it across the concrete at a painstakingly slow pace. I felt like my arms were about to dislocate from my shoulders. Sierra held the enormous, wooden door open as I hauled the bag through the front door.

I exhaled in relief once I was inside. “Can I leave this by the door for now?” I pleaded.

“Yeah, whatever, as long as you pick up later,” Sierra shrugged.

The doorway led into the living room of the house. Multiple cream-colored couches were arranged around a mahogany coffee table. The hardwood floors gleamed with the morning sun streaming through the curtains. Hanging on the walls were framed pictures of sorority group events such as dinners, parties, volunteer events, sleepovers… the lot. And of course, a plasma screen TV.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Sierra asked, looking at me expectantly, “much better than the dorms, right?”

“Yes, it’s beautiful,” I smiled at her, “you must have one heck of an interior designer.” She nodded thoughtfully. “I guess, but I don’t know who. This place was built long before I was a student here.”

“Okay, moving on now.” I followed her through a small door behind the living room. It opened out to a spacious kitchen.

“This is where all the cooking happens, obviously,” she gestured around at the kitchen appliances. “We have this thing we call kitchen duty. A different section of the house cooks every day. The calendar will be up… I think sometime next week.” I nodded to assure that I was following along.

She proceeded to what seemed like a dining hall, a long dining table stretching out endlessly towards the other end of the room.  Floor-length windows with deep purple curtains illuminated the room as rays of sunlight streamed in. An exquisite chandelier overlooked the whole ensemble.

“This is where we eat breakfast and dinner,” Sierra explained, “Attendance isn’t mandatory, as a lot of our girls have morning and evening classes, but it’s a great space for our galas or parties, you know, after removing the table.” I nodded in understanding.

“We’re gonna head upstairs now,” she guided me back into the living room and to the foot of a winding, hardwood staircase. I followed her up the stairs, being careful not to slip and fall down the dangerously steep steps. I stifled a giggle as Sierra continually tugged down her dress, desperately trying to keep it from hiking up her legs as she climbed upwards. She let out a sigh of relief when she got to the top without any mishaps.