Greek: Best Frenemies (5 page)

“Specifically by ZBZs, yeah,” Trip said and glared at Evan.

“How is this my fault?” Evan said. “They wouldn't do something to hurt their chances. They're not that stupid.”

“How do you know?”

“Just the way that everyone knows. Standard sorority stuff. I've seen it four times now,” Evan said with the authority of a senior. “So we've got some overeager sorority girls following us. Not the end of the world. And they'll go away Sunday morning.”

“Was the contest this bad last year? Because I don't remember it being this crazy,” Grant asked.

The general consensus seemed to be that things were ramped up this year. First there was Rebecca, who wasn't exactly universally sweet, even if she was hot, and ZBZ had dropped significantly in the rankings after blowing off Omega Chi and losing half their pledges during the initiation ceremony to a new sorority, which had then failed.

Gamma Psi had Natalie, a strong contender, and that would have been enough if they weren't going full-out for the pity vote for their house burning down thanks to a stray candle no one could remember leaving lit. They were still scattered across campus, stuck in freshman dorms and some off-campus housing, but they were campaigning hard for sweetheart, in spite of, or perhaps because of, the disaster.

Tri-Pi was up to their usual tricks, which included rather flirtatious offers in exchange for votes, but they wouldn't be Omega Chi if they accepted. Just offering couldn't disqualify the house, or Tri-Pi would never have made it to the final ceremony every year, but a brother's vote could be voided if anyone found out he sold it for any reason, sexual or otherwise.

Beta Theta Tau, after their strong showing in the dance
competition, was definitely in contention. There was blood in the water, and it was coming from ZBZ. ZBZ had been knocked off the top and someone had to replace them. Nature abhorred a vacuum. BTT hadn't lost their house or embarrassed themselves, but Shelly wasn't winning many people over with her clips from the ballet. They were still guys after all, no matter how many pink-and-red balloons currently lived on their ceiling.

So ZBZ still had a shot, and the whole house was behind their sophomore nominee, Rebecca. Evan suspected Casey had a large part in it, if only for the sake of the house. There was no love lost between Casey and Rebecca, Evan knew (having once been between them, sleeping with both), but Casey cared about the house more than anyone he could think of cared about his or her house. Besides, Rebecca was her Little Sister. Rebecca was Casey's legacy. Casey wouldn't rest until that legacy was in place at the top, whether Rebecca wanted it or not.

“I do not appreciate being stalked by ZBZs,” Trip said. “I don't think anyone does.”

“Assuming you're not imagining things,” Evan replied. “Or it's not another house. Or all the houses. They're definitely going over the top this year.”

“What, you think it was easier when ZBZ was on top and we all voted for their sweetheart and that was it?”

“You are actually making it sound easier,” Grant said. “That sounds
way
easier.”

“Hey, it's not Gamma Psi's fault their house burned down,” Marco said. “And they get the pity vote for it. It's just a fact of life.”

“We don't
know
it's not their fault. Who leaves a candle burning in the living room, even a scented candle?”

“Pledge, out of line,” Evan said. “They did not burn their house down for the pity vote. They did not burn down their house for any reason.”

“Insurance?” Grant said, then ducked. “Kidding, kidding! Jeez, we're surrounded by aromatherapy baskets and perfume and everyone's still so tense.”

“Grant, you're leaving yourself wide open with that one,” Brandon said.

“Hey, he can comment on perfume and have it not be gay,” Calvin said, suddenly furious and eager to come to his boyfriend's defense.

“Yeah, um, there sure is a lot of perfume in the room. How about that?” Evan said diplomatically. “And beautiful flowers. Some of which I think are fake but scented. Good fakes. Do I have to go into how much I like body salts before you'll sit down and respect your brothers?” he said to Brandon. “Good, because I'd be lying. They're weird. Salt belongs on steak.”

“Mmm, steak. Why didn't they give us any of that? Why is it all candy and cookies? Do we ever eat this crap? We give it to girls, not the other way around,” J.P. said. “I could go for a porterhouse, even those mail-order ones. Or there's that place in town that does delivery. Does anyone want to loudly drop that hint while being stalked by ZBZ?”

“Seconded,” Trip said.

“Hell, third-ed,” Calvin said. He looked to Evan, who just looked exhausted.

Evan rubbed his eyes. “Fine. Anyone is welcome to talk loudly about steak in front of any sorority sisters, but don't expect anything. And don't
ask
for anything. Be subtle about
it. You know, to the best of your abilities.” He cleared his throat. “Moving right along, so we can get to dinner. Anyone we can rule out? Feelings one way or the other?”

“I still like Shelly, tutu and all,” Marco said. “She's wholesome. And she hasn't done anything too embarrassing yet.”

“Noted.”

“I think the ZBZs are being really obnoxious,” Trip said.

“For the last time, you don't
know
about the stalking thing.”

“I do. I know when I'm being followed. And it wasn't Rebecca anyway, it was her flunkies. I'm saying, it's not very sweethearty to send people after us.”

“I'm sure that's not her intention.”

“Really? How could you know her intentions? Just because you're—”

“Whoa, guys,” Calvin said, interrupting Trip before he could finish his sentence and Evan could punch him for it. “Cool it. It's a stupid competition. Stupid in the grand scheme of things, that is. We're all just irritable because we don't know who to pick…and we're starving. Anyone for pizza?”

Calvin held his breath, but the brothers started talking about toppings a moment later. It looked as if he'd defused the tension, but there were still four days left—hopefully not an impossibly long time to keep the peace.

 

It took Calvin a while to get Evan alone after the meeting, especially with dinner and the guys still hotly contesting the sweetheart nominees. In fact, Evan's opening shot to Calvin was, “I've already had this conversation.”

“Trip is trying to trip you up, man. No pun intended.”

“I know. It's weird and I don't know why he's doing it.
Over me losing my money? Or dating Rebecca? Because I have tried to be mostly impartial, and I think I've been doing a good job.”

“You have been doing a good job.” Calvin supported Rebecca, too, both because of Evan and because he was friends with her. She'd certainly come to his aid when he needed her to pretend to be his girlfriend on a double date with a then-closeted Grant and his girlfriend from high school. Not just any friend was willing to do that, though Rebecca did like deceiving people. “This whole competition is just getting a little out of control.”

“You're telling me. For three years, ZBZ has been a shoo-in. We didn't appreciate how easy this all was. Even when I was a pledge, we just soaked up the attention from the other houses then picked a ZBZ. Now Rebecca's a dark horse because of this whole Gamma Psi thing.”

“It wasn't their fault their house burned down. And ZBZ's not what it used to be, but don't quote me on that.”

“Yeah, I know. Don't quote me on this either, but Rebecca doesn't always come off looking like a sweetheart.” Evan sunk into the chair in his room. “And now the ZBZs are overcompensating for her, as if this race wasn't crazy enough. Everyone has a chance. Even the Tri-Pi girl.”

“Stephanie.”

“I think Brandon will vote for her. Marco will go for Shelly, who is, to be fair, the most wholesome and sweetheartlike. Trip will go for Natalie. You and I are a voting bloc, assuming you're voting for Rebecca.”

“Depends.” He put up with Evan's very critical expression. “She has to want it. So far the other candidates have put up
way more of a fight, personally. It's not fair to favor her in a sweetheart contest if she isn't putting her back into it.”

“The ceremony is still coming up. Could be a game-changer.”

“And until then, we're going to fight like animals.”

“Maybe it's all the red and pink. It's affecting our senses. You never see hospitals painted pink. It's always a neutral tone, like green or yellow.”

“And aromatherapy candles?” Calvin said. “Thanks for coming to my defense, by the way. Not that it should have happened.”

“We're guys. You're out. We rag on each other for anything. The gay thing is gonna come up and people are going to crack jokes when Grant leaves himself wide open, but it's not going to mean anything.”

“'The gay thing?'”

“Okay, the wrong way to put it. But you know what I mean. It was toothless. Without teeth.”

Calvin sighed, but he wasn't satisfied. He sensed maybe he never would be. Besides, it seemed as though the house had other things to worry about, like getting to Saturday night without tearing out each other's throats.

 

Cappie arrived at KT house late, but not too late to find Rusty with a pile of bizarre piping and plastic devices in a Home Depot bag at his feet and blueprints in his notebook that he was more than eager to push in Cappie's face. “This is it.”

“Rock'em Sock'em Robots? You can buy those on eBay.” He didn't mean to be totally dismissive outright, but he was tired and he still had a lot of homework to do.

“No. These will be life-size!”

“Spitter, that sounds like a bad episode of
seaQuest DSV.
No, wait, I think that was one of the good ones, from the first season. I can't remember exactly—is this really doable?”

“Remember what you said about a volcano that erupted with beer?”

Cappie put his bag down and sunk into the couch. It was definitely worth it to hear Rusty out. “So what do we need?”

“Well, for starters, a lot more trips to the hardware store. It's not going to be cheap, but you're president. You can authorize it.”

Cappie nodded. “There might be enough money in the budget, if it works. And if it doesn't, we'll have something to dump on the sidewalk in front of the Omega Chi house and get them cited for littering. So, win-win.” He took a closer look at the plans, but he couldn't make out the finer details of the mechanics inside the robots themselves. “We had one of these at Camp Kitchiwawa. It lasted a whole two days before one of the fighter dudes lost a head, permanently. The red guy, I think.”

“I found this website that teaches you how to cut up plastic barrels that they throw out at industrial parks. You just need a hot knife. The guy was using them to make armor for medieval reenactments.”

“That's not very medieval.”

“They paint over it. We just have to wash the barrels
really
carefully before we get near the plastic, but they're free if you know where to get them. And there's that dumping site we sent Vesuvius to.”

“I do love the smell of industrial waste in the morning,”
Cappie said. He looked up as Dale entered, his hair flecked with white. “Someone had the shock of his life.”

“Actually, a severe shock would cause new hair to grow in gray, not damage the old hair. And it's cake flour.” Dale's hair was long enough that he could shake it out, leaving a little cloud of flour around him. “You know that
X-Files
episode where the guy turned albino on the airplane? His hair should have stayed the same. Exposed hair is already dead. Huge mistake. Glad I caught it.”

“Because
X-Files
was known for its medical accuracy,” Cappie said. “So there are sexy, sexy cake fights going on at ZBZ? Because I do like sexy fights. And cake.”

“They're not sexy so much as inept. Some people were not meant to bake. And I think you would be way more appreciative of my fine culinary craftsmanship than the actual recipients.” He brushed his hair out again. “I appreciate the overtime, but I was hired to cook for Zeta Beta Zeta, not Zeta Beta Zeta
and
Omega Chi.”

“Is anyone not annoyed by this contest?” Rusty asked.

“At this point, no.” Cappie glanced at his phone, which was full of messages from Casey. “But I appreciate your hard work, Dale, because if they lose, I'm going to have to steer clear of there for a while, and Casey does not like staying over here. She keeps complaining about some smell.”

“Is it the dirty laundry? The rotting pizza boxes? The spilled beer?”

“Maybe that whipped-cream smear we can't get off the ceiling?” Rusty added helpfully.

Cappie shrugged. He had no answers for them, though it could really be any one of them. “She says it's in my room. I don't know
what
it is in my room. I think it smells fine.”

“It smells like you,” Rusty said.

“Spitter, way to be supportive.”

“I'm just saying, it does.” Rusty changed the topic. “So, this was actually sort of Dale's idea. The robots. He bought a small set and creating the life-size version just came to me. And I know it's a KT thing and everything, but he wants to help.”

“I like building. I mean, I may not be a Gary Wyatt grant award winner, but—”

“Still upset about that contest?” Cappie asked. “I get it. I'm not going to stop you from helping. If we have a little macho nerd competition going, it isn't a bad thing. It'll get things done faster. No objection here.” He grabbed his backpack. “I, on the other hand, have my education to attend to, which I assure you is important.” They didn't look as if they believed him, so he opened his bag and held up a copy of Aristotle's
Metaphysics
. “Paper. Due sooner rather than later. And yes, stop gawking, I can do schoolwork if I want to.”