“You’re going somewhere with them?” Roger asked, raising an eyebrow.

“We’re just going off to fifty-cent-drink night at Fusions.” Chad gave him a brilliant smile, draping an arm around my shoulders. “Jordy loves to dance, don’t you, Jordy.”

“It’s a lot of fun,” I admitted. An idea hit me. “Why don’t you come with us?”

“Oh, Roger doesn’t want to go with us,” Chad said before Roger could say anything. “It’s not his kind of place, is it, Roger?”

“No, I guess it isn’t,” Roger said slowly. He looked at me, his face completely blank. “Have fun, Jordy.”

The guys were already walking out the house’s back door. “Roger, let’s do something soon, okay?” I said. I felt bad. “Dinner and a movie, maybe?”

“Come on, Jordy!” Chad called from the parking lot.

Roger looked at me sadly. “No, Jordy, I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

“JORDY!”

Roger just shook his head. “Your friends are waiting for you.”

“Roger—”

His door shut in my face. I put my hand up to knock when Chad called me again. Well, if that’s the way you want it, Roger, then that’s how it’s going to be.

And I walked out the back door to join my friends.

Half an hour later, I was on the dance floor.

I’d completely forgotten about Roger.

Chapter 6

Hell Week was aptly named.

It started on Sunday evening, and the rules were stringent. We lined up at the far end of the parking lot underneath the basketball hoop in nice dress clothes, complete with jacket and tie. Once the brothers led us inside, everything changed. We changed into white T-shirts and jeans—which we had to wear whenever we were in the house, and the only excuse to not be in the house was class or work. They replaced our pledge pins with bricks, which we had to carry with us everywhere. Knowing that Hell Week was modeled on military boot camp did not help in the least. By the end of the first day I was completely exhausted. I’d had a slight inkling that the brothers of Beta Kappa had a sadistic streak, but what surfaced that week was nothing I could have imagined. Gone were the smiling, friendly faces—replaced with reddened faces with their mouths open wide as they yelled at us, spittle sometimes flying into our faces. I learned to dread the sound of a whistle, because it came to mean more torture to be endured. We were required to run everywhere inside the house. We camped out in the Chapter Room with sleeping bags and pillows—on those rare occasions they let us sleep. We weren’t allowed to eat or drink, and by the end of Monday my stomach had progressed from hunger to a dull regular ache. The sound of the whistle meant running at full speed into the Great Room and leaning against the wall with our knees bent at a ninety-degree angle until the whistle blew again to let us up. My legs ached, and I could barely think clearly. Several times I thought about just giving up and walking out of the house. But I didn’t want to let my pledge brothers down. They were enduring it all with me, and so I gritted my teeth and kept enduring. When they let us head back into the Chapter Room to sleep around three in the morning, I would put my head on my pillow and ask myself, Is this worth it? I sat through my classes with my mind asleep and my eyes open. I prayed every day that the torture would end. I found myself fantasizing about food. I promised myself that when it was all over, I was going to treat myself to the best meal I could find in Polk.

And finally on Thursday morning before dawn we cleaned the Chapter Room and snuck out of the house, not leaving a trace behind to show we’d ever been there.

As I drove home, despite being bone-achingly tired and sleepy, I was elated. I’d done it. I’d survived Hell Week.

I walked into my apartment and made myself a peanut butter sandwich. I brought down some ground sirloin from the freezer to the fridge for later. After finishing the sandwich, I staggered down the hall to my bedroom and collapsed on the bed without bothering to undress. I slept for nine hours, not waking up until about three in the afternoon. I was still worn down but felt almost human. I’d slept through all of my classes but didn’t care. I started a pot of coffee and got into the shower. As I showered, I wondered what they had in store for us that night. We were to avoid brothers all day—if we saw one we weren’t supposed to meet his eyes. We were supposed to be lined up under the basketball hoop at six p.m.; all they told us was we’d be meeting with Beta Kappa’s national examiner.

I was on my second cup of coffee when I opened my front door to get the newspaper just as Jeff and Blair walked out their front door.

“Oh!” I started to step back inside, but they stopped me with a laugh.

“Relax, you’re not on campus or at the house,” Blair said. “We’re not going to report you or haze you.” He winked at me.

“So you made it through Hell Week.” Jeff smiled and shook his head. “Man, I don’t think I could go through that again. No offense, but you look terrible.”

“No worse than you did when you went through it.” Blair playfully punched him in the arm. “How was it?”

“Awful,” I said with a grin. “But I survived. Hey, I was about to make something to eat. I’m starving.”

“How much weight did you gain?” Blair asked as they followed me inside. “I gained three pounds during Hell Week.”

I walked into the kitchen. “How did you gain weight?” I asked, puzzled. “We weren’t allowed to eat.”

They exchanged glances. “No one fed you?” Blair said slowly. “I know it’s a rule, Jordy, but you can be honest with us. It’s over now. You did eat, right?”

“No one fed me.” I was confused. “They told us we weren’t supposed to eat or drink all week. I’ve never been so hungry in my life.”

“So you turned down food?” Jeff asked. “Really, Jordy, you didn’t have to do that.”

“No one offered me anything.” I shook my head. “What are you guys talking about? You’re not making any sense.” I turned on the stove and got the thawed pack of ground sirloin out and put it on the counter.

“Seriously, Jordy, you don’t have to cover for anyone,” Blair insisted. “Did you or did you not get fed this week?”

I started making patties. “No, I’m not covering for anyone. No one fed me.” I got a skillet down and placed the patties in it. “Were they supposed to? I’m confused. I thought we weren’t supposed to eat.”

“I hate to break it to you, but yes,” Jeff explained. “It’s a rule, yes, but brothers break it all the time. It’s all a part of the game. They kidnap you off campus and take you to Carl’s Jr. or something. Or they sneak you into their rooms and give you food. You’re not supposed to go all week without being fed, Jordy—you’re just not supposed to get caught.”

The burgers began sizzling. I sprinkled salt, pepper, basil, and thyme on them and covered the skillet with a lid. “I don’t understand.” I shook my head. “My brain is fried, frankly. So you’re saying brothers were supposed to feed us this week?”

They nodded in unison. “Hell Week is a game,” Blair went on. “There are rules, sure, but the brothers are supposed to help the pledges through the week.”

“Your big brother didn’t feed you?” A muscle worked in Jeff’s jaw. “That’s his goddamned job. You’re not supposed to starve!” He slammed his fist down on the bar. “Christ!”

“I fed Jeff so much during Hell Week he actually gained weight.” Blair grinned, tousling Jeff’s hair playfully. “And like I said, I gained three pounds during mine.”

“No, Roger didn’t feed me at all.” I flipped the burgers and salted that side. “You guys sure you don’t want one?” My mind was racing. Roger was supposed to feed me? To take care of me all week?

I was starting to feel a little sick. Roger had been distant—friendly and polite but never rude. I’d asked him to do things with me, but he always turned me down with a very polite smile. True, I’d been spending a lot of time with Chad, but it wasn’t like I’d been blowing Roger off.