“It’s going to be okay, don’t be nervous,” Dante said. “You want to come over when you’re finished?”

“Yeah.” I looked around the sanctuary. “I think I’ll need some peace and serenity when I’m done.” I finished my cup of coffee and smiled at him. “I’ll pack a bag when I’m at my place. Unless you don’t want me to stay over?”

“I want you to move in.” Dante raised an eyebrow. “Whenever you’re ready, just pack your things and you’ve got a home here.”

“I don’t think I’m ready for that yet, but I know I’m going to be spending a lot of time here,” I replied. I stood, stretching and yawning. I leaned down and kissed him. “Last night was incredible, Dante. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he answered. “My thoughts will be with you this afternoon.” He winked. “Kick their ass.”

I laughed and then walked out to my car. There was no question about that, but I still didn’t know what I wanted to do about being a brother. It really depended, I supposed, on how the meeting went. As I drove back to my apartment, I kept going back and forth. But ultimately I felt incredibly betrayed by the brotherhood. But it wasn’t the entire brotherhood, either—only a select few.

I didn’t know what I was going to do. As I walked into my apartment, I finally decided it would depend on how things went at the meeting. The one thing I knew for sure was, after the meeting was over, I was going to decimate Chad. I gathered the documents I needed, shoved them into different file folders, and labeled each one with a Sharpie. I put them in the order I would most likely need them and placed them inside my backpack. I glanced at the clock. It was just after twelve. I’d started a pot of coffee when I’d first gotten home, so I got a cup and sat out on my balcony. I had about fifteen minutes before I had to head over there, and as I sat sipping my coffee, I went over all the arguments I was going to make. I looked over at the pool, and sure enough, Jeff was out there, lying on his stomach on a deck chair. I smiled. I really loved both Jeff and Blair. Maybe things would have been different if they both hadn’t been so busy these last two semesters—but then maybe it wouldn’t have made a bit of difference. They were great guys and had a great relationship I envied.

There’s no reason you and Dante can’t have what they have, I told myself. I smiled. Chad and I would have never had what I have with Dante—I can’t believe I was ever so crazy as to think I was in love with him.

It was partly my own fault. I had to take responsibility for my own actions, for my own behavior, or I was no better than Chad. I didn’t hate him—okay, I did hate him, but not for what he’d done to me. I couldn’t ever allow myself, no matter how forgiving I might want to be, to forget what he’d done to Jay—and what he’d done to Dante. He’d hurt them both in his drive to get at me, which was cowardly, malicious, and unforgivable.

But how is what he did any different than what you’re about to do?

“The difference,” I said out loud, “is that Jay and Dante were innocents. The people I’m bringing down today aren’t.”

And that was the bottom line.

My phone chirped, and I picked it up. The text was from Chris: The meeting will be in the Chapter Room at 1, and you WILL be able to face your accusers.

“Perfect.” I smiled, finishing my coffee. I texted back: I look forward to it. Thanks, Chris.

At a quarter till one I pulled into the Beta Kappa parking lot. No one was out playing basketball, and no one was sitting at the picnic tables in the backyard. I got out of the car and took a deep breath. Judgment Day, I thought, slinging my backpack over my shoulder. I thought about saying hello to Roger, seeing how things went with his new little brother, but decided against it. There’d be time for that after, and I needed to stay focused. As I walked up the sidewalk toward the back door to the foyer, I glanced up and saw Chad sitting in his window. He smirked at me and gave me a sarcastic wave. I smiled back and flipped him the bird. Just about an hour or so, and you’re getting yours, you fucking bitch, I thought as I kept walking. The back door was open. The pledges, looking the worse for wear, were mopping up the Great Room. I flinched from the smell of sour beer. I waved them off—I didn’t want to shake their hands and have them all ask me how my day was going. I did smile, though, at their obvious discomfort. I was one of you not that long ago, I thought, and I hope this whole experience turns out better for you than it has for me. I hope you never get disillusioned the way I’ve been.

The door to the Chapter Room was open. Three brothers were already sitting in there when I walked in, and all three avoided looking at me. Bobby Dunlap wasn’t a surprise—I’d expected him to be one of the complaining brothers. Even Rees wasn’t a shock to me. Of course Chad had put him up to it—but Brandon? That was like being slapped in the face. He wouldn’t look at me, and at least had the decency to turn red, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. The irony was, I’d felt bad including him in my file. Obviously those feelings had been wasted.

It wasn’t a surprise that Chad was pulling the strings from backstage, either, while keeping his own hands clean.

That’s what you think, Chad.

“How’s that paper coming, Bobby?” I asked as I sat down.

“Fuck you,” he spat back at me. “You’re getting exactly what you deserve, asshole.”

Brandon looked up, a puzzled look on his face. “What are you talking about?” He looked from Bobby back to me.

“He fucking hacked into my computer and deleted all my files,” Bobby hissed. “I ought to kick your ass.”

“You’re welcome to try,” I shot back. “Nothing would give me greater pleasure than beating your sorry ass to a bloody pulp.” I folded my arms. “I’ve trained in mixed martial arts, Bobby. I’ll break every fucking bone in your miserable body. Bring it on, bitch.”

He blanched, and I smiled. I hadn’t trained in MMA. But one thing my dad always said, nine times out of ten, intimidation worked—especially with cowards.

Brandon met my glance and bit his lower lip. He mouthed sorry to me, but I wasn’t having any of it. No, Brandon, I’m the one who’s sorry—sorry for you. Sorry you’re such a spineless piece of garbage that all Chad has to do is snap his fingers and you’ll do his dirty work for him. You’re pathetic, and I’m sorry I ever thought we were friends.

At precisely one o’clock, the Executive Council filed in, shutting the door behind them: president Chris Moore, looking grim; vice president Craig Yamamoto, slender and scowling; treasurer Dave Morton, who’d always been nice to me and looked like he wanted to be somewhere, anywhere, else; secretary Tim Haas, carrying the big ledger where he recorded all meetings for posterity; pledge marshal Eric Matthews, who gave me an encouraging look; and house manager Jason Spielman. They sat down in the chairs lined up at one end of the room behind two tables from the Great Room, and Chris had his presidential gavel.

Chris picked up the gavel and banged it. He cleared his throat. “We are here to hold a preliminary hearing to determine whether or not a full hearing before the brotherhood is necessary. Let the record show that the accused brother, Jordan Valentine, is present, as well as his accusers, brothers Robert Dunlap, Brandon Benson, and Rees Davidson. The charges against Brother Valentine are, first, conduct unbecoming to a brother of Beta Kappa; second, conduct reflecting negatively on the brotherhood of Beta Kappa; and third, violating the honor code of Beta Kappa. Should Brother Valentine be found guilty of any one of these charges before the entire brotherhood, the brotherhood will vote on whether he should be expelled from our fraternity. This is a very grave and serious matter, and I will not have these proceedings taken lightly.” He looked at my accusers. “Do you wish your accusations to stand as they are, or modify them in any way? This is your final opportunity to end this.” His voice had a note of pleading in it, and I loved him for it. Chris was uncomfortable with all of this, obviously, and wanted it over.