Games Frat Boys Play (8 page)

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Authors: Todd Gregory

BOOK: Games Frat Boys Play
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I liked Roger, though. He was actually kind of funny. And I liked that he spoke his mind. There was something almost refreshingly honest about him. And from all the reading I'd done, the notion that all the brothers were close was a little hard to believe.
Surely, some of them didn't like one another.
I sighed and sat there on my bed for a moment, debating on whether to go back to bed and sleep some more. My first class wasn't until nine. But I was wide awake, and so I went into the kitchen and started the coffee.
The pledge meeting had actually turned out to be a lot of fun. I had studied the faces of my pledge brothers. They were an interesting assortment of guys. I had been just about to say something when the door opened and our pledge marshal, Eric Matthews, walked in. He slammed the door shut behind him, startling everyone, and silence fell on the room.
“Welcome to Beta Kappa!” he had said with a broad smile. He wasn't wearing a shirt, and I couldn't help but stare at his chiseled torso. A patch of dark hair sat in the deep cleavage between his pecs, and a line of black hair ran down his flat stomach from his navel and disappeared inside his gray fleece sweatpants. From the way his bulge moved around inside the sweatpants, he didn't appear to be wearing underwear. I made myself look away and locked eyes with one of the pledge brothers whose name I couldn't remember. He was cute, with blue eyes and dishwater blond hair. He grinned in an
oh, you caught me looking
kind of way and winked at me. I grinned back.
Eric sat down on the floor. “All right, guys. You are about to embark on a journey that's going to change your life—for the better. Your pledge semester is all about learning about the house, learning what Beta Kappa stands for, and getting to know all the brothers. But before we go any further, I want to make something very clear: While Beta Kappa has to be a priority for you, if there is ever a conflict between your pledge responsibilities and school, school wins every time. Our motto is
alma mater first, and Beta Kappa for alma mater.
You are here to get an education, okay?”
Everyone had murmured assent.
“So, first things first.” He grinned. “I know some of you already know each other, and you met during Rush, but we're going to go around the room. Say your name, what year you are in school, your hometown, and your major. I'll start. Eric Matthews, senior, San Diego, California, and my major is business administration.” He turned to the pledge I'd made eye contact with. “Okay, you're next.”
“Jon Preston, freshman, Madison, Wisconsin, and I'm pre-med,” the cute boy said. He was tapping his right foot on the floor.
I was next. I cleared my throat. “Um, I'm Jordy Valentine, freshman, undecided major, and I'm not really sure what my hometown would be,” I said, feeling kind of silly.
Eric frowned. “How can you not know where you're from?”
I felt my face color as everyone in the room stared at me.
Great, your first pledge meeting and you've already made a total ass out of yourself.
“Well, my parents' main home is outside of Seattle, but I haven't lived there since I was ten,” I had said, struggling to keep my voice from cracking. I could hear my heart beating, and resisted the urge to flee.
“Their
main
home?” Eric had looked confused. “Well, where have you lived since then?”
“Inhofen, Switzerland.” I bit my lip.
“Seriously?” This had come from a guy on the other side of the room, and I forced myself to look at him. To my surprise, he was actually looking at me in awe rather than contempt.
“Switzerland?”
I nodded. “I attended a boarding school starting at ten. Mom and Dad are hardly ever in Seattle. They travel a lot. They have several other homes as well.” I shrugged. “So I don't know what my
hometown
would be. I'm sorry, I know that probably seems dumb—”
“No, it doesn't,” Eric replied. He smiled. “Why don't you just call Seattle home? That would be easiest.”
“Okay.” I smiled back at him. “I'm Jordy Valentine, a freshman from Seattle, and I am undecided.”
“Great.” Eric beamed back at me.
The guy sitting to my right said, “My name is Mark Dunne, I'm from Merced, California, I'm a sophomore, and my major is graphic design.” He gave me a reassuring smile. He had brown hair and was kind of slender, almost too skinny. His shirt and shorts were too big for him, and his legs were covered with thick black hair.
I made a mental note. As each one of my pledge brothers went through the litany, I'd memorized their information.
The guy who'd been so awed about my sojourn in Switzerland was Gary Musson, a junior from Madera, majoring in broadcast journalism. He had thick brown hair, blue eyes, a round face covered with pimples, broad shoulders that tapered down to a narrow waist, and a deep voice.
Kevin Dorton was a good-looking blond from Santa Barbara, a freshman majoring in advertising. He had deep dimples in his gold-tanned cheeks, and thick arm muscles. Like Gary, he had a narrow waist, and his tanned legs were muscular and smooth.
Next to him had been Ryan McNair. Ryan was really tall, with hair so dark it was almost black, with a light tan and green eyes. He was also really slender, like Mark Dunne. He was wearing a white polo shirt and a pair of blue checked madras shorts. He'd kicked off his sandals and was draped loosely over a folding chair. He was a freshman from Santa Rosa, majoring in public policy.
“Public policy?” Eric smiled at him. “You want to work in politics?”
Ryan blushed beneath his freckles. “I want to be a presidential adviser someday.”
“I'm Jacob Hinton,” said a tall, good-looking boy with olive skin and curly brown hair. Out of all of us, he was probably the best-looking pledge. He had strong cheekbones and a pointed chin, thick red lips, and the greenest eyes I'd ever seen. His shoulders were wide, and he was wearing a red T-shirt over a pair of khaki shorts that reached his knees. He had thick, muscular calves, and his voice sounded almost musical. He also had the longest lashes I'd ever seen on a man. “I'm a sophomore from Lake Tahoe, and I'm majoring in physical education.” He flashed a smile at all of us that made my heart flutter a little bit. “Yes, I'm going to be a gym teacher.” He laughed. “I want a job where I can always wear sweats.”
Everyone laughed, and I thought,
He could give Chad a run for his money in the hot department.
“I'm Marc Schiphol,” a stocky blond guy with blue eyes said after we stopped laughing. He, too, had big biceps, but he was thickly built with a bit of a belly. “I'm from Ann Arbor, Michigan, a junior, and I am majoring in exercise physiology.”
“How do you spell that last name?” someone asked.
“It's Dutch,” I had replied without thinking. “It's the name of the airport in Amsterdam. S-C-H-I-P-H-O-L, right?”
Marc had stared at me, his mouth open. “Nobody ever gets that right. How did you know?”
I felt my face flushing. Everyone was staring at me again.
Learn how to keep your stupid mouth shut,
I had scolded myself.
Nobody likes a know-it-all.
“Like I said, it's the name of the airport in Amsterdam. I've flown through there a couple of times.”
“Wow,” Marc said, shaking his head. “You're pretty smart.”
I didn't say anything. I sat in silence as my last two pledge brothers introduced themselves. Cal Ford was a freshman from Kearney, Nebraska, majoring in English literature. He was a redhead with more freckles than I'd ever seen before on anyone, but his eyes had a mischievous twinkle I found really appealing. The other was Phil Shea, who was also really tall and lean, with thick lips and dark eyes. He was from San Mateo and was majoring in music.
Once the introductions were complete, Eric had grinned and said, “Okay, the first thing you all are going to need to know is that information about your pledge brothers. As pledges, you are a unit. If one pledge messes up, you all have messed up. Tomorrow night, you are going to get your pledge manuals. Your pledge manuals are broken down into lessons you have to learn each week. Every Monday night, before the brothers have their meeting, we have a formal dinner. Everyone is expected to dress up for dinner—that means you have to wear dress pants, dress shoes, a nice shirt, and a tie. You need to be here tomorrow night at five-thirty. The junior actives—last semester's pledges and the newest brothers—will show you how to serve dinner. It is the pledges' responsibility to serve the brothers dinner each Monday, as a gesture of respect to the brotherhood. Does anyone have a class conflict with Monday nights?” He'd looked around the room, and no one said anything. “Good. So remember, you have to be here tomorrow night by five-thirty. Do not be late—if anyone is late, everyone is considered late. Is that clear?”
We all had murmured assent.
“While the brothers are having our meeting, the pledges have a meeting of their own upstairs in the library. The brothers' meeting is secret and is for brothers only. You are not to leave the library and come downstairs until I come upstairs and get you. This is a good time for you to go over your lessons, help each other to make sure you know the lessons—remember, if any one of you doesn't know the lesson, none of you do—as well as talk about pledge business.” He'd smiled. “Tomorrow night's lesson is you need to know the information you just learned about each other—name, year, hometown, and major. You will be quizzed about this after the brothers' meeting. Also, tomorrow night you will be electing officers—a president, a vice president, a secretary, and a treasurer. Each pledge class has two responsibilities as a class—you have to make a pledge class paddle”—he gestured around the room—“and hanging on the walls in here are paddles from past pledge classes, to give you an idea of what you're going to need to do. Also, each pledge class has to provide a gift to the brotherhood as a gesture of appreciation for being invited to join the brotherhood. The last pledge class donated new ceiling fans for the master room. You have until the end of the semester to finish your paddle and provide the gift. Does anyone have any questions?” When no one responded, he'd started passing out sheets of paper. “On this paper are the names of the executive officers of the house, their majors, their pledge classes, and their hometowns. You need to know these for next week's lesson, and you also need to identify these brothers.” He smiled. “No one had better get the information about
me
wrong. I also included my cell number on here. If you ever have any questions, or are ever unable to make Monday night meeting or
any
event at the house,
you need to let me know as soon as possible.
I cannot stress enough how important this is. If you do not show up and I don't know about it, you can be dropped. The brotherhood takes attendance very seriously. I would also recommend you hang out awhile after this meeting and write down your pledge brothers' information, since you will be responsible for knowing it tomorrow night. Does anyone have any questions?” When no one responded, he'd smiled again. “Okay, then I will leave you to it.” He stood up and walked over to the door. “Welcome to Beta Kappa, pledges.”
The door shut behind him.
We sat in silence for a moment, and then Jon Preston had said, “Did you seriously go to a boarding school in Switzerland, Jordy?” His eyes were wide open, and he sounded awed.
“Yes.” I shrugged. “It's not really a big deal.”
“That's so cool.” This had been from Jacob Hinton. “I've never even been outside of California. What was it like?”
“Do you speak Swiss?” Marc Schiphol had added.
I smothered a grin. “There's no such language. They speak German, French, or Italian. Most Swiss speak all three, and a lot of them have some English, too.”
“Do you?” Ryan McNair had asked. “Speak all three, I mean?”
I nodded, biting my lower lip.
“Cool!” Jon had replied. “I was an exchange student in Marseilles for a year. I'm fluent.” He added in French,
“Ça te dérangera si on se parle en français de temps en temps. Je suis inquiet que je perdrai mon aisance
.
”
(Would you mind speaking French with me sometimes? I'm worried I'll lose my fluency.)
“Je serai ravi,”
I'd answered in the same tongue.
“Nous pouvons parler des camarades devant eux sans qu'ils sachent
.
”
(I would be delighted. We can talk about the brothers in front of their faces and they won't know what we're saying.)
“C'est dommage que le reste de la classe ne parle pas français!”
(Too bad the rest of the class doesn't speak French!)
We'd sat around for another half hour, getting one another's information and talking, getting to know our fellow pledge brothers.
It was a great feeling. No one made me feel like an outsider—on the contrary, they were all welcoming, friendly, and nice.
I'd always wondered how it would feel to belong somewhere.

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