Games Frat Boys Play (9 page)

Read Games Frat Boys Play Online

Authors: Todd Gregory

BOOK: Games Frat Boys Play
9.49Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
It was better than I could have imagined.
After the meeting had broken up, I was walking out to my car when I ran into Chad in the parking lot. He and two other brothers—Brandon and Rees—were getting out of a red Camaro. “Hi!” I said.
Brandon and Rees had ignored me. They were carrying twelve-packs of beer and just walked on into the house.
But Chad had waited. He smiled. “Your first pledge meeting, Jody?”
“Jordy,” I'd corrected him. “My name's Jordy.”
“Oh, sorry.” He shrugged. “I'm terrible with names. Anyway, welcome to Beta Kappa. I look forward to getting to know you.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“See you tomorrow.” He had waved his hand and taken off.
I'd just stood there in the parking lot, watching him walk away. I couldn't stop myself from staring at his ass. It was phenomenal. And when I got back to my apartment, I'd undressed and lain in my bed, jacking off while I'd imagined what he looked like naked.
And now I'd had a wet dream.
I sighed and poured myself a cup of coffee. I got the assignment out of my backpack. I didn't need to go over my pledge brothers' information; I'd committed that to memory when they'd introduced themselves in the chapter room. But I needed to know the exec board's, and there was no time like the present, since I couldn't sleep.
But as I went over the information, my mind kept wandering back to my dream, and I kept fantasizing about Chad.
I was falling in love.
Chapter 4
“O
kay, 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.”

Other books

Shingaling by R. J. Palacio
Lonesome Howl by Steven Herrick
Billingsgate Shoal by Rick Boyer
The Foundling by Lloyd Alexander
Heart Troubles by Birmingham, Stephen;
Sarah McCarty by Slade