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.)