Текст книги "Games Frat Boys Play "

Автор книги: Todd Gregory

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

Chapter 4

“Okay, pledges,” Eric Matthews said from somewhere behind me. “Your big brother is standing behind you with your family beer. He is about to put it into your hands. Once he does, you need to finish it as quickly as you can. When you are done, turn it upside down on top of your head. When you are all finished, then and only then will I tell you to remove your blindfolds and turn around and meet your big brother. Do you understand?”

“SIR, YES SIR!” we roared back in unison.

“I can’t heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrr you!” he shouted back at us.

We shouted our response again, and I hoped Brother Eric wouldn’t make us yell again. My voice was growing hoarse, and my throat was beginning to hurt a little bit. I tried swallowing, but my mouth was completely dry.

The so-called sir sandwich was something we’d gotten used to in the weeks since Rush had ended. It was used when a brother addressed us as a group or as an individual—and only when we were inside the house. The university considered this to be hazing, and so it was forbidden when any outsider—including little sisters—were around. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal, personally—the idea was to teach us to respect the brothers who’d already gone through and survived the pledging experience. Other requirements were kind of fun. Every time we saw a brother for the first time that day, we had to shake his hand and say, “How’s your day going, Brother Eric?” It was another gesture of respect, and it also was helping us learn their names. Every assignment we were given as a class seemed designed to subsume the individual into the pledge group, bonding us together as a unit that eventually would be incorporated into the unit of the brotherhood.

I’d done some research on it—it was the same thing soldiers were required to do, and it had infiltrated the fraternity system after World War II when returning soldiers went to college on the GI Bill.

Pledging had gotten tougher since the halcyon days of Rush, when the brothers had been trying to get us to join. Now that we had pledge pins on our lapels, things had changed a bit—the gloves had come off. It actually wasn’t that bad. Some of my pledge brothers complained about it in our meetings up in the house library while the brothers had their own meeting—but it was always the guys struggling to learn their lessons every week. Going up on the hearth after the brothers’ meeting and being forced to recite our lessons in front of the whole house in the dim light was a bit unnerving. We weren’t allowed to make eye contact with any of the brothers—we weren’t even allowed to look at them when we were marched into the Great Room. We had to stand on the ledge around the fireplace, about two feet off the floor. The brotherhood all sat on couches or the floor in complete silence. We had to hold our heads up and look straight ahead at the far wall. The first time we went up there I was absolutely terrified and almost slipped as I stepped up onto the hearth. But when Eric called on me to identify the pledge standing to my left, his hometown, and major, I spoke clearly and my voice didn’t shake. I always knew the required lessons, and so Eric rarely called on me anymore. Whenever he did, I was able to recite it clearly without stumbling and was always rewarded with finger snaps of approval from the brothers. I was determined to be the best pledge ever in the history of Beta Kappa—and it didn’t hurt that I had an excellent memory and learned quickly. I could say the Greek alphabet backward and forward, I knew the Creed of Beta Kappa, and I could recite without pause the Badge of Beta Kappa.

I was having a great time. My pledge brothers all seemed to like me and had elected me vice president of our class. We’d already had a car wash to raise money for the gift we had to buy the house, and I had a few other fund-raisers planned. My talents for organization definitely were coming in handy. I’d also finished all of my required brother interviews, and my little black book—which had to be signed by all of the brothers after we completed an assignment they gave us individually—was almost completed. I loved being a pledge, I loved everything about Beta Kappa—and even though sometimes being a pledge was a little rocky, I was happy I’d accepted the bid. The vast majority of the brothers were cool.

Finally, I belonged somewhere.

Mom and Dad still weren’t completely on board with my joining a fraternity. “If it affects your grades, you’re out of there,” Dad had warned me just that afternoon on the phone. “I’m not sure this is such a good idea, but your mother and I are going to trust your judgment. You aren’t drinking, are you?”

“No,” I’d replied. It wasn’t strictly true—sometimes at parties I allowed myself a cup or two of beer from the keg, but that was it. I didn’t get a buzz or get drunk. At first, my pledge brothers were a little put off by my not drinking—as were the brothers—but soon they saw the advantage of always having a designated driver around. Seeing the brothers drunk made me wonder why anyone would ever want to get so wasted—some didn’t know their limits and kept drinking until they threw up or passed out or both. I couldn’t quite grasp how this could be fun. The only time I ever threw up was when I was sick, and I thought it was unpleasant. I also didn’t much care for the taste of beer, which was what the brothers usually had available. I also didn’t see the appeal of not being able to think clearly, stumbling around, or slurring my words when I spoke.

I was definitely in the minority on that score.

I was just wondering how I was going to get out of drinking the family beer when someone reached around me and put a cold bottle in my hands. Even with the blindfold I could tell it wasn’t the normal-sized beer bottle—it was the quart size. My heart sank. I wasn’t going to be able to drink it all; I’d fail. Panic gripped me. Maybe I could just spill most of it?

Don’t be such a wimp. Just drink the stupid thing. It’s not going to kill you, and obviously the point of the evening is to get drunk.

“DRINK!” Eric screamed from behind us, and the room erupted from silence into a cacophony of shouting voices. My heart started pounding. I took a deep breath. Just do it, Jordy. Several people were shouting at me, and I could sense how close they were standing to me. I raised the bottle up to my lips and started drinking. The beer foamed and sloshed as I tried to swallow it down, but it was hard. With the bottle tilted up, my mouth would fill with beer and I couldn’t swallow it fast enough to keep up with it. Beer poured down the sides of my face, running down my neck and soaking my shirt. I tried to breathe through my nose as I kept drinking, but most of it was winding up on me rather than in me. The noise didn’t let up. The brothers screaming at me kept it up. I heard some cheers from around me as some of my pledge brothers managed to finish their beers. I kept trying to down the damned stuff, and gagged. More beer foamed and spilled down the side of my face. In my ear a voice whispered, “Don’t worry about it, Jordy, just turn it upside down on top of your head. Let it spill on you. No one cares.”

With a sigh of relief I took the bottle away from my mouth and swallowed another mouthful. My eyes were watering and my nostrils were burning. I gulped in air as I turned the bottle upside down on top of my head. More beer soaked my hair and cascaded down the back of my neck, and I leaned forward against the wall, still trying to get enough air. I felt dizzy, and the beer was churning inside my stomach. A hand patted me on the back. “Nice job, Jordy,” someone said. I couldn’t place the voice.

Eric blew a whistle and my head was spinning. I felt like I was going to throw up. I fought the urge and kept gulping air.

“Let’s have a round of applause for our pledges!” Eric yelled, and the brothers cheered. “Nice job, pledges,” Eric went on as the cheer died down. “This is an important night, pledges. You are about to find out who your big brother is. Your big brother is your mentor, your best friend in the brotherhood. He is there to help you, to guide you, to teach you in the ways of the brotherhood. He had a big brother, who had a big brother, who had a big brother, a family that traces all the way back to the original founders of Beta Kappa, links in a chain of brotherhood that join us all together.”

I bit my lower lip and dared to hope.

At our last pledge meeting we had to write down the names of three brothers we wanted for our big brothers. I didn’t hesitate for a moment before scribbling Chad York down as my first choice.

I couldn’t stop thinking about him. He was always polite to me—not overly friendly but not cold, either—and I’d enjoyed my interview with him. He was a sophomore from Woodbridge up in the Sierra Nevada Mountains, near Yosemite National Park. He was majoring in advertising and art history, and he hoped to work for a museum when he graduated—preferably one in San Francisco. He had several younger brothers and sisters, had played basketball and run track in high school, and had gone through Rush with several guys he’d gone to high school with. “They all wound up at Sigma Alpha Epsilon,” he said with a slight smile, “but SAE was a bunch of homophobic assholes, so I wound up here at Beta Kappa. Best decision I ever made in my life.”

I wanted him. And maybe it was the wrong reason to choose a big brother, but I hoped it would bring us together.

The last two choices didn’t matter to me, so I wrote in Roger Devlin as my second choice and Eric Matthews as my third.

Silence descended as I started breathing normally again. I still felt nauseated, but I was excited. This was it. My heart was pounding in my ears.

“Remove your blindfolds, pledges,” Eric ordered.

I reached up and pulled the soaked rag off my head, blinking in the light.

“Turn around and face your big brother.”

I bit my lower lip to keep a big, stupid grin off my face, and turned around.

Roger stood there, a huge delighted grin on his face. “Hey,” he said, taking the empty bottle from me.

Disappointment surged through me. Chad didn’t want me. I wanted to run out of the room and hide somewhere. You insensitive asshole, it’s not Roger’s fault and he’s obviously really happy—don’t spoil this for him. I forced a smile on my face. “Cool,” I managed to say as my stomach lurched and tried rejecting the beer I’d swallowed. “Thanks for taking me, Roger.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Roger pulled me into a big hug. Over his shoulder, I could see Chad hugging Jacob, a huge smile on his face. I forced myself to look away.

Of course he picked the best-looking pledge as his little brother, a horrible voice whispered in my head. Did you really think you had a chance? He doesn’t even know you exist. You’re not good enough for him. He’d never want someone like you in a million years—he doesn’t even want you as a little brother.

I squeezed Roger back, blinking my eyes so I wouldn’t cry. I took a few deep breaths.

“Are you okay? You look a little green,” Roger said, stepping back a bit.

“I think I’m—going—to be sick.” I pushed my way past Roger and ran out of the room and down the hallway, all the while trying to keep the frothy, foamy beer down as it fought its way up into my throat. As I ran I was vaguely aware that brothers were following me, chanting something that sounded like Puke! Puke! Puke!

I pushed through the saloon doors of the first-floor bathroom and made it into one of the stalls as a stream of foamy beer erupted out of my mouth and my nose. It splashed against the back wall of the stall, and I bent over the toilet as it kept coming up. It didn’t seem possible. I hadn’t swallowed that much, had I? I thought I’d spilled most of it, but somehow more just kept coming up, and every time I thought I was finished my stomach lurched and even more foamy liquid came streaming up. As I heaved, tears running down my face, I could hear the brothers still chanting Puke! Puke! Puke! behind me.

Finally, I was finished. I stood there, my hands on my knees, catching my breath as the brothers cheered behind me. I wiped my face and turned to face the brothers. They were grinning at me.

“One pledge down, nine more to go!” someone shouted, and the brothers all ran out of the bathroom—except for Roger.

He smiled ruefully at me. “Don’t be embarrassed, Jordy.” He shrugged. “You don’t drink, so you shouldn’t have had to try to chug a quart of beer. But it’s tradition.” He held up his hands in a “what can you do” gesture that didn’t make me feel any better. “But you don’t have to drink any more, if that helps. The whole point of the night is to make all the pledges puke—and since you already have . . .” His voice trailed off.

“I’m a shitty pledge,” I said. My head was still spinning, and I felt woozy. If this was what being drunk felt like, I was never going to drink again. I tried walking out of the stall but slipped and staggered and grabbed on to Roger to stop from falling.

“Come to my room and I’ll give you some sweats to wear, get you out of those wet clothes.” Roger smiled at me. “I’m so glad you picked me as your big brother. I couldn’t believe it when Eric told me. I thought for sure—” He stopped talking and shook his head. “Never mind, come on.”

I followed him out of the bathroom, holding on to the wall for support as we headed down the hallway to his room. Everything seemed tilted, and the floor felt like it was moving.

I didn’t choose you. I chose Chad. But he didn’t want me.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I followed Roger. He unlocked his door and held it open for me. I wiped the tears away and smiled bravely at him. “I still don’t feel so good.”

“You’re just a little drunk.” He smiled. “Fortunately you puked up most of the beer, so you won’t get any drunker.” He tossed me a towel, and I started rubbing at my head. He started rummaging around in his closet and tossed me a pair of red sweatpants and a CSU-Polk sweatshirt. I took my wet clothes off, folded them, and pulled the sweats on. I sat down in his desk chair.

Why didn’t Chad want me? What was wrong with me?

You don’t look like Jacob, the insidious voice mocked me again. Why choose a Honda when you can have a Bentley?

“Are you okay?” Roger asked again.

I was about to say something about Chad when I looked at him. He was so happy I was his little brother, I knew I could never, ever tell him I’d picked Chad first. I just nodded instead and forced a smile onto my face. “I was worried you might not want me,” I said, hating myself for lying.

He laughed. “Are you kidding me? I couldn’t believe it when Eric asked me if I wanted to take you. I was so sure I’d never get a little brother. I mean, it’s not like I’m the most popular guy in the house. And I got the coolest pledge out of the whole class.” He gave me a delighted smile, and I couldn’t help noticing how much better he looked. His entire face lit up when he smiled—and it was so much better than the perpetual scowl he usually wore.

My disappointment started fading. So what if the big brother I’d wanted hadn’t wanted me? Was it a good idea to pick a big brother I was attracted to in hopes of getting to date him? No, it wasn’t—that was a stupid reason to pick someone. I remembered what Eric said about the role of a big brother. Roger filled that role far better, and he had been my second choice.

It wasn’t like I’d been pawned off on someone I hadn’t picked.

But I’d been so sure Chad would take me.

You were sure, the voice mocked, you were hoping, and convinced yourself Chad would take you. Why would he?

I shook my head.

“I’m hardly the coolest pledge,” I said, watching as Roger pulled a box out from under his bed and expertly started rolling a joint.

“Yeah, you are.” Roger licked it to seal it before lighting it. “You’re not like the others—you’re not like the rest of the brothers here, either. You’re different.”

“I don’t want to be different,” I said, watching as he inhaled. “I want to be like everyone else.”

He laughed. “I meant different in a good way. Jeez, Jordy.” He took another hit. “You don’t want to be a lemming, do you? Different is good, man, really good. It makes you stand out, makes you get noticed. People who are like everyone else never get anywhere in the world, they just blend in. Who wants to blend in? I sure don’t.” He shrugged. “Do you know what usually passes for intelligent conversation around here? ‘Dude, I fucked the Delta Zeta with the huge tits.’” He shook his head and took another hit. “You, on the other hand, have a brain. You think.” He held out the joint to me.

I looked at it dubiously. “I don’t know if I should. Marijuana affects your memory and kills brain cells.”

Roger grinned. “You see what I mean? No one else around here would even think twice about smoking a joint.” He winked at me. “Just this once. For me, okay? To celebrate? Come on, Jordy, live a little. Just this one time won’t hurt you.”

Never give in to peer pressure, I heard my father say. Never, ever do something to fit in. You’re your own person, and you know the difference between right and wrong. And anyone who tries to get you to do something you don’t want to do isn’t your friend in the first place.

On the other hand, it was just this once. Roger was right—getting stoned once was hardly going to kill me.

I reached over and took the joint from Roger. I looked at the thin line of white smoke curling up from the red ember. “So, what do I do?” I asked.

“Well, you suck on the end, and then hold the smoke in until you can’t anymore.” Roger grinned. “Just know you’re going to cough really hard the first time.”

“Wow. That sounds just great.” I rolled my eyes. “I can see the appeal.” He laughed, and I took a deep breath and raised the joint to my lips. I did as he said, sucking on the end. I wasn’t able to hold the smoke for very long. I started coughing almost immediately. My lungs felt like I’d inhaled fire. My eyes were tearing and I couldn’t stop coughing. He handed me a bottle of water from the minifridge. I managed to choke out a “thank you” as I twisted the cap off and gulped water down.

I put the bottle down on the desk and wiped at my eyes. “That was awful,” I said, and was about to add, “I’ll never do that again” when a strange mellow feeling began creeping through my brain. Goose pimples rose on my arms, and I could feel every single hair follicle on my body tingling. It was a weird feeling—but at the same time it was nice. The nausea in my stomach was gone—a definite plus—and there was this really pleasant euphoric sensation creeping over me. I started to resist it, but closed my eyes. Don’t fight it, just go with it. That’s the whole point of smoking, to feel like this. I relaxed and went with it.

I couldn’t help myself. I started giggling.

Roger took the joint back from me and took another hit. He grinned at me as he stubbed it out in an ashtray. “I think that’s enough for you, my young Padawan.”

“Padawan?” I made a face. “What does that mean?”

Roger stared at me. “You’ve never seen any of the Star Wars movies?”

“Oh, yes.” I nodded and smiled at him. “A Padawan is of course a Jedi Knight in training.” I giggled. Why did everything seem so funny? “Of course I’ve seen the films. They are an integral part of modern American pop culture.” I nodded. “My senior year I spent a lot of time watching popular films online. Titanic, The Matrix—” My voice trailed off. I couldn’t think of the names of any of the other movies I’d watched. I tried to concentrate and summon the titles, but they wouldn’t come. “That’s weird. I can’t think of any of the others.” I shrugged. “But the Star Wars mythology was a classic rendering of the struggle between fascism and democracy, broken down into a simplistic message of good versus evil for easier absorption by the audience.”

Roger threw his head back and laughed. “See what I mean, Jordy? You aren’t like anyone else! Anyone else would just say they were cool. But not you.” He shook his head.

“That’s bad, isn’t it?”

“No, Jordy, it’s great. Don’t ever change, okay? Don’t let them turn you into a Beta Kappa clone.” He rubbed his eyes. “I don’t know what it was like for you at your Swiss school—”

“St. Bernard.”

“—but I can tell it wasn’t a good experience for you.”

“I liked St. Bernard,” I insisted. The mellow feeling was actually quite delightful. “I got an excellent education there. I was challenged and stimulated intellectually.”

“I’m not talking about your education,” he replied. “Did you have friends there? Were you popular?”

“I—” I stopped. I’d never told anyone what it had really been like there. Maybe it was the pot, but I could tell Roger was actually interested—he really wanted to know. “It was awful.” My eyes welled up with tears. “I didn’t have any friends. The only people who treated me like a human being were the teachers. The other students were terrible. They looked down on me because I was an American. They looked down on me because I wasn’t of royal or noble blood. They picked on me. They made fun of me. Then they got bored and just ignored me, which was lonely but it was better. But I showed them all. I was smarter than all of them. I got better grades. The teachers thought I was the best student in the history of the school. I made up my mind I was going to be the best student, that I was going to be the most successful one.” I wiped at my face. “Of course they didn’t care about my grades.”

“Jordy.” Roger reached out and took both of my hands in his. “Don’t ever let anyone make you feel bad about yourself. You have no idea how special you are. Being different is hard, I know, but don’t ever let anyone convince you it’s better to change and to be like everyone else. You’re smart, funny, and you have a core of natural kindness within you that most people don’t have.” He scowled. “Most people only pretend to be kind, you know, because they want something from you—and as soon as they get whatever it is they want, they can’t be bothered with you anymore. The reason why people don’t necessarily open up to you is because you’re not like everyone else and they don’t know how to handle that. But what it means is you’ll never have to deal with all the superficial nonsense. When you make real friends, they’ll be real friends.” He smiled. “I’m your friend, Jordy.”

I bit my lip. “Really?” I could feel tears welling up in my eyes. I felt a lot more emotional than usual; it must’ve been the pot.

“Really.” He waved a hand. “I don’t fit in here, either. Oh, sure, everyone’s nice to me on a basic level because I’m a brother, but I don’t have any real friends in the house. Nobody really makes an effort to get to know me. That first night when I saw you at Rush, I knew you were one of the special people. Like me.”

“I don’t understand.” My head felt hollow. It was kind of nice—I could almost hear air rushing through my head. “Why did you join Beta Kappa in the first place? I’ve wondered about that for a while. You don’t seem happy here.”

“I’m not unhappy here.” He picked up the joint and relit it. “This sure as hell beats living in the dorms. As you know, I’m an anthropology major. I kind of study the group dynamics around here. It’s fascinating, to tell you the truth.” He grinned. “Take Chad York, for example.” His face darkened. “He is the personification of evil.”

“Chad?” I was puzzled. “But he’s so nice, and he’s so good looking.”

“Stay away from Chad York,” Roger insisted. “You have to trust me on this, Jordy. Listen to your big brother. Chad is not attractive at all.”

“Yes, he is,” I insisted. “He’s even better looking than Jeff Morgan.”

“Don’t be fooled.” Roger took a big hit from the joint. “The outward exterior is just the packaging. Inside, he has a dark and twisted soul.”

“May I have another hit?” I asked. Roger laughed a bit and passed me the joint. This time it didn’t burn so much, but I did cough again. I passed it back to him. The hollow, empty feeling inside my head was getting stronger. It was nice. “Why do you hate Chad so much, Roger?”

“I hate all three of them—Chad, Brandon, and Rees. Brandon and Rees aren’t as bad as Chad—no one is—and maybe if they got away from him they could turn from the dark side. But Chad—” He shook his head. “There’s no chance for redemption from him.”

“You’re wrong.” The empty feeling was going away. Now it was like my mind was kicking into overdrive. Thought after thought tumbled through my mind, a new one springing from the previous one. “It’s just like Star Wars. No matter what anyone’s done, no matter how beyond redemption they may seem, they can always change and save themselves. Darth Vader was able to.”

“Chad makes Darth Vader look like a pussy,” Roger spat out. “Besides, that’s a movie. It isn’t reality.” He peered at me. “You have a crush on him, don’t you.”

Even stoned, I knew better than to tell the truth. “I just think he’s sexy.”

“Don’t ever go there. Trust me.”

“Why? What aren’t you telling me?”

“Maybe someday. But not now.” Roger crushed the joint out. All that was left was a tiny bit, which he placed inside a jar. “Just listen to your big brother. It’s my job to take care of you during your pledge semester. And I will always, always watch out for you.”

I was touched. I looked at him and felt overwhelmed by emotion. Roger is my first real friend, I realized. He actually cares about me and wants to take care of me. I bit my lip to stop myself from crying. “Can we get some fresh air?” I asked. I was feeling a little woozy.

“Sure.” I followed him out of the room, down the hall, and out into the parking lot. He led me around to the backyard, and we sat down at the picnic table. We could hear the shouting and cheering coming from inside the party room. I smiled. It was a beautiful night. There were no clouds, and the sky looked like dark blue velvet. The stars winked at me, and I smiled back up at them—until I heard a loud moan coming from the direction of the house. “What’s that?” I got up and walked over to the bushes just outside the downstairs windows. All of the rooms were dark except one, and the curtains were open.

I got closer and caught my breath. It was Chad moaning. He was bent over his bed, naked. My eyes widened. I wanted to look away but couldn’t—and looked at the guy behind him. It was Jacob. He was holding onto Chad’s hips, driving deep inside him. His own eyes were closed. I stood there, in shock, and wanted the earth to open up and swallow me whole.

My eyes filled with tears.

He’ll never want a loser like you. Not when he can have guys like Jacob.

“Stupid Jacob,” Roger said bitterly from beside me. I hadn’t heard him come up. “He’s going to regret that for the rest of his life.”