Rush Week at Kappa Kappa Murder

“The Roommates,” flash fiction by Kathleen Barber The Commuter Subscribe Strange, short, and diverting writing delivered to your inbox every Monday.. Rush Week at Kappa Kappa Murder The Roommates Every year, on the third weekend in October, there’s a vigil for Caroline. Every year, they use the same easel to prop up the same poster-size photograph of her, the one taken for our sorority composite the fall she disappeared. Shiny curls gleam golden atop tan shoulders, blue eyes sparkle, a careful blend of pink cream blush and highlighter paints her cheeks rosy. Her smile is open-mouthed as though she were caught mid-laugh, and it’s weird to think we’ll never hear her full-throated chuckle again. I get kind of choked up just thinking about it. Every year, they surround Caroline’s photo with fragrant wreaths of white roses and hand out tall, slender white candles. Our faces streaked with mascara-black tears, we cup our hands around the lighted candles to protect the flames and make tortured comparisons to Caroline’s metaphorical light, extinguished far too soon. Honestly, it’s all a little much. Every year, they pass a microphone around the crowd, encouraging those of us who knew and loved Caroline to share stories about her. Every year, the same people say the same things—Caroline was beautiful, Caroline was smart, she was kind, she loved animals—and every year, we avoid saying the same things—Caroline was petty, she could be cruel, she stole homework and earrings and boyfriends. Every year, we stand in a clump of Kappa sisters. Every year, there are fewer of us who actually knew Caroline and more who only know of her. Everyone knows of Caroline these days. She would have freaking loved it. Every year, people trade theories about what happened to her. She’s being held in a basement , someone says. Just like those women in Ohio. I don’t think so , someone else says. I think she’s buried in the cornfields outside of town. Oh, I think she’s on the farms all right , someone else says. But you know those pigs? I heard— Jesus , someone […]

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