Katy didn’t understand why the two stood so far apart, the sorority houses and fraternity row.  In some ways, the term “fraternity row” always reminded her of “death row.” It was a death row for the girls, she thought, that damned walk in the morning.  She figured the sorority houses were probably built back before girls did that – “hooked up,” drunk-ass – on a regular basis.  In some ways, she believed girls like herself, those not quite cute enough, or sweet enough, or smart enough, had always played the same role in history.  Her ability to find favor with the boys through the one way she could catch their attention, through sex, easy sex, was something she provided that the others did not.  She made less demands, but she also genuinely felt something, no matter how brief the encounter.  Katy enjoyed catching each boy in his moment of weakness, these fraternity boys, who thought they owned the world.  Even if they called her names the next day, and cursed her from the rooftop, she took joy in knowing that she’d been in charge sometimes only minutes before.

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