He was asleep in an instant.

I love you, Blair, I mouthed soundlessly to the back of his head.

And before long, I too, fell asleep.

PART TWO

FALL

Chapter 6

"You know it. Piece of cake." I grinned down at him while trying to stay standing. In fact, I wasn't sure if I could stand up if I didn't have my arm around his shoulder. I didn't know how I could possibly wrestle, as drunk as I was, but was going to give it my best shot. I didn't want to let Blair down.

Big Brother Night for Beta Kappa is four weeks into the pledging semester. The second week of school is always Rush Week, but I got my pledge bid on the very first night. Marc Kearney, the pledge master, a nice looking twentyyear-old junior with a thick brown mustache, took me into the president's office, where I sat in a chair and was asked if I wanted a pledge bid. I grinned and said, "yes," and one of the proudest moments of my life thus far was switching my nametag from JEFF MORGAN-GUEST proudly to JEFF MORGAN-PLEDGE within an hour of my arrival that Monday night. That following Saturday night was the pinning ceremony. My eleven fellow pledges and I swore an oath to do our best and never embarrass the Brotherhood, and then we were given our pledge pins, manuals, and our little black books. We were required to wear the pin at all times, unless sleeping or in the shower, until we made it through the semester-likewise, the black book had to always be handy. A brother had the right to ask me for it at any time, and if I couldn't produce it, it was a strike. Three strikes and you could be depledged. And that was the last thing in the world I wanted to have happen.

I'd fallen in love with being a brother of Beta Kappa. It was more than just being in love with Blair-although that certainly didn't hurt. It was the first place I ever felt like I belonged, even though I didn't officially yet. Even though I'd been accepted at Southern Heights, even being Homecoming King my senior year, I never really felt like I'd belonged there, and I certainly didn't feel that way after we'd moved to Polk. Everything about Polk still seemed alien to me-except for Beta Kappa. All the brothers seemed to be cool, the lessons we had to learn from the manual every week didn't seem hard (the Greek alphabet, the creed of the fraternity, etc.) and even when they lined us up for what they called Hearth (we stood in what they called the Great Room-the big room in the front where we had parties and also served as a dining hall-on the ledge with the fireplace, they dimmed the lights, and we answered questions and recited our weekly lessons) it didn't seem so bad. There were all kinds of games, too. The purpose of the black book was to help us learn who all the brothers were-we had to get their names, home addresses, majors, and pledge semester recorded in there. They were also allowed to give us up to three assignments-within reason; anything that seemed out of line we were supposed to bring to the pledge master for his decision.

There was also a thing called bagging-two brothers or two little sisters, at any time, could "bag" a pledge-kidnap him and hang out with him for the evening. So far, I'd been bagged once-by Jerry Pollard and another brother named Chris Morales-and all they did was drag me back to Chris's off-campus apartment, get me incredibly drunk and stoned, and we hung out while listening to the Grateful Dead.

It was awesome.

And for the most part, I liked my eleven pledge brothers.

Beta Kappa was the best thing that ever happened to me. My parents were also excited about it. They'd gotten married right out of high school, and Mom had worked while Dad went to college. Dad confessed to me, after I proudly showed him my pledge pin, that even though he loved Mom and loved being married to her, his biggest regret was not being able to fully live the college experience-and he was glad I was getting to. They gladly paid my pledge fees-and still no mention of me having to get a job.

And I sure as hell wasn't going to get one until I had toI was having too much fun in my free time.

I'd really become fond of beer and pot.

Big Brother Night had begun with all twelve of us pledges meeting under the basketball post at the end of the parking lot. The house was dark and completely closed off; no one could see in or out. My eleven pledge brothers all seemed cool so far-my favorites were two guys my own age; Chris Moore and Eric Matthews. They were from Sonora, up in the mountains, and had apparently been friends since the cradle. Chris was taller than me, about six four, with dirty blond hair and gray eyes. He had a great body, as well. Eric was about my height, with dark hair and brown eyes. They were great guys, always joking and laughing. And when we lined up as a pledge class, we lined up alphabetically, so it was Eric, Chris, and then me. The guy who always stood to my right was Ted Norris, a junior majoring in Biology with an acne problem as well as a soft, flabby body. Ted was the odd man out in the pledge class. He was a loudmouth, and liked to brag-and he frankly got on my nerves. He was also a complainer. When Chris beat him out for pledge president, (unanimously, I might add) he'd asked for a recount. Everyone thought he was joking, but I could tell by the look in his eyes he wasn't. He also had trouble learning his lessons every week; we could count on him to choke and blow it on Hearth, no matter how much we worked with him beforehand.

I doubted he'd make it through the pledge semester.

My other pledge brothers (our first lesson had been to memorize their names, year in school, majors, and hometowns) were:

Tommy Amundsen, a sophomore from Mission Viejo, was a short redhead who maybe weighed about one hundred and twenty pounds on a heavy day. He was majoring in Political Science, and was relatively quiet. He had a great sense of humor though, and would be sitting there quietly when all of a sudden he would just say the funniest damned thing that would crack us all up. He had a longtime girlfriend, Jan, who was pledging over at Delta Zeta.

Steve Bradley was a junior from Boston who said "caaaah" instead of car and was majoring in Environmental Studies. He was just under six feet tall with curly bluish black hair, brown eyes so dark they were almost black, and a big smile with large white teeth. He had started lifting weights as an early teen after he'd been hospitalized and gone through extensive physical therapy after a car accident ("I had to learn how to walk again," he'd told us all solemnly at our "get-acquainted" meeting, "and I realized how important it is to be in good physical condition.") He was always drinking protein shakes and there were always a couple of protein bars in his backpack. He worked part-time as a personal trainer at Polk Fitness, and offered to design programs for all of us for free.

Brad Cassidy, a sophomore from Walnut Grove in the Bay Area, was majoring in Pre-Law and was also in the campus ROTC. He was only about five seven, and because of ROTC his hair was clipped close to his scalp. He also wore a mustache and a goatee. While he was capable of relaxing and having a good time, most of the time he was deadly serious about his plans to become a civil rights attorney.

Michael Durkiewicz was from Chicago, with pale white skin, light blue eyes, and sandy brown hair. He was about my height, and had been a lineman on his football team in high school. He was a big boy, probably topping the scales at around two hundred forty pounds. He was majoring in Physical Therapy and was always joking about getting "his fat ass in better shape," but he ate like a horse and was always hungry.