Games Frat Boys Play (13 page)

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Authors: Todd Gregory

BOOK: Games Frat Boys Play
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And now, it was Wednesday again—and the reason I was even at the house in the first place was to meet the guys and head out to Fusions. I'd been heading down the first floor hall to the stairs when Roger opened his door.
I don't have time for this. I'm going to be late meeting the guys,
I thought—and promptly felt ashamed of myself.
Roger folded his arms and leaned against the doorframe, not saying anything.
“I haven't been avoiding you,” I said again. “I've been kind of busy.”
“Uh-huh.” His face was expressionless.
“Roger, I—”
“Oh, there you are, Jordy!” Chad called from down the hall. Brandon and Rees were with him. They walked toward where we were standing. “Are you ready?”
“You're going somewhere with them?” Roger asked, raising an eyebrow.
“We're just going off to fifty-cent-drink night at Fusions.” Chad gave him a brilliant smile, draping an arm around my shoulders. “Jordy loves to dance, don't you, Jordy.”
“It's a lot of fun,” I admitted. An idea hit me. “Why don't you come with us?”
“Oh, Roger doesn't want to go with us,” Chad said before Roger could say anything. “It's not his kind of place, is it, Roger?”
“No, I guess it isn't,” Roger said slowly. He looked at me, his face completely blank. “Have fun, Jordy.”
The guys were already walking out the house's back door. “Roger, let's do something soon, okay?” I said. I felt bad. “Dinner and a movie, maybe?”
“Come on, Jordy!” Chad called from the parking lot.
Roger looked at me sadly. “No, Jordy, I don't think so.”
“Why not?”
“JORDY!”
Roger just shook his head. “Your friends are waiting for you.”
“Roger—”
His door shut in my face. I put my hand up to knock when Chad called me again.
Well, if that's the way you want it, Roger, then that's how it's going to be.
And I walked out the back door to join my friends.
Half an hour later, I was on the dance floor.
I'd completely forgotten about Roger.
Chapter 6
H
ell Week was aptly named.
It started on Sunday evening, and the rules were stringent. We lined up at the far end of the parking lot underneath the basketball hoop in nice dress clothes, complete with jacket and tie. Once the brothers led us inside, everything changed. We changed into white T-shirts and jeans—which we had to wear whenever we were in the house, and the only excuse to not be in the house was class or work. They replaced our pledge pins with bricks, which we had to carry with us everywhere. Knowing that Hell Week was modeled on military boot camp did not help in the least. By the end of the first day I was completely exhausted. I'd had a slight inkling that the brothers of Beta Kappa had a sadistic streak, but what surfaced that week was nothing I could have imagined. Gone were the smiling, friendly faces—replaced with reddened faces with their mouths open wide as they yelled at us, spittle sometimes flying into our faces. I learned to dread the sound of a whistle, because it came to mean more torture to be endured. We were required to run everywhere inside the house. We camped out in the Chapter Room with sleeping bags and pillows—on those rare occasions they let us sleep. We weren't allowed to eat or drink, and by the end of Monday my stomach had progressed from hunger to a dull regular ache. The sound of the whistle meant running at full speed into the Great Room and leaning against the wall with our knees bent at a ninety-degree angle until the whistle blew again to let us up. My legs ached, and I could barely think clearly. Several times I thought about just giving up and walking out of the house. But I didn't want to let my pledge brothers down. They were enduring it all with me, and so I gritted my teeth and kept enduring. When they let us head back into the Chapter Room to sleep around three in the morning, I would put my head on my pillow and ask myself,
Is this worth it?
I sat through my classes with my mind asleep and my eyes open. I prayed every day that the torture would end. I found myself fantasizing about food. I promised myself that when it was all over, I was going to treat myself to the best meal I could find in Polk.
And finally on Thursday morning before dawn we cleaned the Chapter Room and snuck out of the house, not leaving a trace behind to show we'd ever been there.
As I drove home, despite being bone-achingly tired and sleepy, I was elated. I'd done it. I'd survived Hell Week.
I walked into my apartment and made myself a peanut butter sandwich. I brought down some ground sirloin from the freezer to the fridge for later. After finishing the sandwich, I staggered down the hall to my bedroom and collapsed on the bed without bothering to undress. I slept for nine hours, not waking up until about three in the afternoon. I was still worn down but felt almost human. I'd slept through all of my classes but didn't care. I started a pot of coffee and got into the shower. As I showered, I wondered what they had in store for us that night. We were to avoid brothers all day—if we saw one we weren't supposed to meet his eyes. We were supposed to be lined up under the basketball hoop at six p.m.; all they told us was we'd be meeting with Beta Kappa's national examiner.
I was on my second cup of coffee when I opened my front door to get the newspaper just as Jeff and Blair walked out their front door.
“Oh!” I started to step back inside, but they stopped me with a laugh.
“Relax, you're not on campus or at the house,” Blair said. “We're not going to report you or haze you.” He winked at me.
“So you made it through Hell Week.” Jeff smiled and shook his head. “Man, I don't think I could go through that again. No offense, but you look
terrible.
”
“No worse than you did when you went through it.” Blair playfully punched him in the arm. “How was it?”
“Awful,” I said with a grin. “But I survived. Hey, I was about to make something to eat. I'm
starving.
”
“How much weight did you gain?” Blair asked as they followed me inside. “I gained three pounds during Hell Week.”
I walked into the kitchen. “How did you gain weight?” I asked, puzzled. “We weren't allowed to eat.”
They exchanged glances. “No one fed you?” Blair said slowly. “I know it's a rule, Jordy, but you can be honest with us. It's over now. You did eat, right?”
“No one fed me.” I was confused. “They told us we weren't supposed to eat or drink all week. I've never been so hungry in my life.”
“So you turned down food?” Jeff asked. “Really, Jordy, you didn't have to do that.”
“No one offered me anything.” I shook my head. “What are you guys talking about? You're not making any sense.” I turned on the stove and got the thawed pack of ground sirloin out and put it on the counter.
“Seriously, Jordy, you don't have to cover for anyone,” Blair insisted. “Did you or did you not get fed this week?”
I started making patties. “No, I'm not covering for anyone. No one fed me.” I got a skillet down and placed the patties in it. “Were they supposed to? I'm confused. I thought we weren't supposed to eat.”
“I hate to break it to you, but yes,” Jeff explained. “It's a rule, yes, but brothers break it all the time. It's all a part of the game. They kidnap you off campus and take you to Carl's Jr. or something. Or they sneak you into their rooms and give you food. You're not
supposed
to go all week without being fed, Jordy—you're just not supposed to get caught.”
The burgers began sizzling. I sprinkled salt, pepper, basil, and thyme on them and covered the skillet with a lid. “I don't understand.” I shook my head. “My brain is fried, frankly. So you're saying brothers were supposed to feed us this week?”
They nodded in unison. “Hell Week is a game,” Blair went on. “There are rules, sure, but the brothers are supposed to help the pledges through the week.”
“Your big brother didn't feed you?” A muscle worked in Jeff's jaw. “That's his
goddamned
job. You're not supposed to starve!” He slammed his fist down on the bar. “Christ!”
“I fed Jeff so much during Hell Week he actually
gained
weight.” Blair grinned, tousling Jeff's hair playfully. “And like I said, I gained three pounds during mine.”
“No, Roger didn't feed me at all.” I flipped the burgers and salted that side. “You guys sure you don't want one?” My mind was racing.
Roger was supposed to feed me? To take care of me all week?
I was starting to feel a little sick. Roger had been distant—friendly and polite but never rude. I'd asked him to do things with me, but he always turned me down with a very polite smile. True, I'd been spending a lot of time with Chad, but it wasn't like I'd been blowing Roger off.
They both nodded. “I thought Roger would make a better big brother than that,” Jeff said, taking a swig from his bottle of Coke. He sighed. “I thought he'd make a great big brother.”
“Roger hasn't spoken to me in weeks,” I said, getting out the hamburger buns and putting two in the toaster. “Well, not really since Big Brother Night.” I shrugged. “I try, but he just won't have anything to do with me, and you can only slam your head into a brick wall so many times.”
“That's weird,” Blair commented. “Did something happen on Big Brother Night?”
I shrugged as I started slicing an onion. My eyes started watering. “I thought we were friends, but he really hates Chad York.” I cut the onion into thick slices. “And when I started hanging out with him—”
“Stop!” Blair interrupted me. He looked at Jeff. “I guess we should have been paying more attention. You've been hanging out with Chad?”
I nodded, getting out the jar of pickle slices. I flipped the burgers again, placing slices of cheese on them. “Yeah, right after Big Brother Night. I ran into Chad when I was leaving the house and we wound up going to the Iron Skillet for breakfast. We started hanging out. He's really nice. He's been taking me to Fusions.” I started spreading ketchup on the buns. My stomach growled. “But I guess Roger doesn't want to be friends with me if I'm friends with Chad.” I rolled my eyes. It sounded kind of juvenile.
“But your buddy Chad didn't feed you, either, did he?” Jeff asked angrily.
“Well, no,” I admitted. I'd hardly seen Chad all week.
“Some friend.”
“Look, guys, what's going on here?” I asked crossly. My stomach growled again. “My brain is kind of fried right now, so you're going to have to be a little less obtuse.” I took a bite out of my burger and moaned in pleasure.
It was the best cheeseburger I'd ever had.
“This is our fault.” Blair sighed. “We should have been more honest with you.”
“But in our defense, it's not really cool to talk bad about brothers to pledges.” Jeff shrugged. “That whole brotherhood thing?” He shook his head. “The rules really suck sometimes. But, Jordy, you really need to stay away from Chad York. He's not what you think.”
“You sound like Roger,” I said stiffly, taking another bite of the cheeseburger. Juice dribbled down my chin. “What is the deal, anyway? Why are you guys so down on Chad?”
“Did Roger ever tell you why he doesn't like Chad?” Jeff asked. “You know Roger is my little brother, don't you?”
“Yes, I knew that.” I rolled my eyes. “It's one of the questions on the interviews we have to do. What difference does that make?”
“Because Roger doesn't speak to me, either,” Jeff replied. “When I was his big brother, I blew it. I wasn't there for him during Hell Week, or really any time he needed me.” Jeff rubbed his eyes. “I'm not proud of it, Jordy. But that semester was when Blair was doing an internship in London, and I wasn't really paying attention to what was going on.”
“You fed him at least,” Blair pointed out.
“That isn't the point,” Jeff replied. “The point is, Chad was horrible to Roger that entire semester, and I didn't do anything.”
“What are you talking about?” I started wolfing down my second burger. My stomach was growling for more food. “You're not making any sense.”
“Chad's a horrible person,” Jeff said venomously. “If I'd known what was going on, I would have blackballed him. He doesn't deserve to be a brother. Brothers don't treat brothers the way he treated Roger.”
“What did he do that was so awful?” I finished the second burger and sighed in relief.
“This is going to sound mean,” Jeff replied. “But I can't tell this story without sounding mean. Roger, if you hadn't noticed, isn't exactly the best-looking guy.”
“So? Neither am I.” I turned on the hot water spigot and started placing the dirty dishes in the sink. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Chad, on the other hand, is really good looking,” Jeff went on.
“If you like that type,” Blair snapped. “I personally don't.”
Jeff smiled at him. “Never mind, Blair. Do you think Chad is good looking?”
I nodded. “I think he's perfect.”
They exchanged another glance. “Roger was attracted to Chad. The way I figure it, Chad liked the attention—”
“He's an attention whore,” Blair interrupted.
“And so Chad really led Roger on. He pretended like he was trying to help Roger—you know, helping pick out his clothes, helping him with his hair—”
My hand flew to my hair.
“—and letting him hang out with Chad and his buddies Brandon and Rees. Brandon and Rees aren't bad guys really—”
“Just stupid,” Blair snapped. “Incredibly stupid.”
“—and they used to take him to Fusions on Wednesday nights—”
My God, Fusions. They used to take Roger to Fusions?
I remembered Chad saying teasingly to Roger,
“Fusions isn't Roger's kind of place, is it, Roger?”
“—and then, after they were initiated, after leading him on for months, Chad told Roger he wasn't interested in him that way, and because of Roger's feelings for him, it was probably for the best they not be friends or hang out anymore. He cut Roger off at the knees. He told him on Initiation Night, which should have been a really happy night for Roger. Instead, Roger was devastated.” Jeff's face set angrily. “I spent the whole goddamned night picking up the pieces. And the next day I confronted Chad. He just laughed in my face.” Jeff's voice shook. “I should have punched him in the face, is what I should have done. Brothers don't treat brothers that way.”
“Okay.” I bit my lip. “So Chad was mean to Roger.” Even as I said the words, I thought,
But you only have Roger's word for it. You don't know what happened, and you never asked Chad for his side of the story.
“I don't see what this has to do with me.”

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