Page 23

It’s not the first time I’ve heard the word. Miller said it in his room—that I’d never survive without him.

“Tonight, you cease being individuals. You’re just a bunch of goats. A piece of shit. Dried cum on the athletic sock in my drawer. If you make it through the week, you’ll have the honor of being a brother. For life.” Knox says it all with passion and intensity. Like it’s the most important speech of his life. “If you don’t? That’s a mark of shame you’ll bear until you die.”

A fraternity brother, dressed in all black, walks through the crowd, handing out Zip-lock bags. Knox speaks again. “Put your phones, ID, wallet, andegoin the bag. Don’t plan on seeing any of those again for seven days.”

A sense of intense dread pools in the pit of my stomach, but I grab the items he listed and put them in the Zip-lock. In the crowd of pledges surrounding me, I hear, “Fuck this shit,” and then, “I’m out of here.”

There’s collective shift in the group, a moment where everyone sees an escape. If they go, we can go. Knox must sense it, too.

“You leave,” Knox says, “don’t come back and don’t even think of rushing again. Zeta Sig isn’t interested in cowards.”

The threat is obvious. They’ll be blacklisted, like me. Unlike me, there’s no vibe of the humiliation that brought them down. Also, unlike me, they don’t want it enough.

Two people end up leaving, grabbing their things, and walking down the dark road alone. Knox mocks them until they’re out of sight, calling them babies and pussies and cum-soaked-vaginas. When he’s satisfied no one else is leaving, he turns his focus back on us. “The building behind me is where the current members of Zeta Sig will be staying. We’ve rented it out for the week. You shitheads, who we will be referring to asgoatsfrom here on out, will be living over there.” A bright light swings across the yard to reveal another building. It’s immediately obvious what that building is. Or was. A barn. “Other than going to classes, your days and nights will be spent in the barn. You’ll eat, sleep, shit, and jerk off in there.” He jabs his thumb at the faded red building. “You’ll also have every opportunity to become a man. A brother. A family.” He scans the crowd. “If anyone else wants to quit, now is your chance, because once you enter the doors, there’s no leaving with your integrity or reputation intact.”

No one else moves, although I can almost taste the apprehension in the air. Independence has never been my thing, but when they line us up, take our belongings and herd us into the barn, I’m pretty sure the cowards that left are the smartest ones of the bunch.

10

Miller

The barn smells exactly like you’d expect: thick dusty hay, oily gasoline, and the unmistakable scent of manure. The expression on the goats’ faces as they enter are priceless. Welcome to the gauntlet, bitches.

“I can’t believe you found this place,” Royer says.

“My dad’s company buys up a lot of foreclosed property,” I reply. “This one went for a steal. As soon as I saw it in his portfolio, I knew it was perfect for the gauntlet.”

As the goats pack into the center of the barn, clutching their belongings to their chests, I scan for Reagan. I know she got picked up. Was she one of the ones that left? If she was smart, she would’ve taken the public humiliation and walked away, but there’s something about this girl. She’s not a quitter—continuing long after it’s prudent for her to cut her losses. Of course, that’s one of the things that makes her so much fun. There’s nothing I like more than a feisty, determined girl.

It’s way more fun to break them down.

Knox takes a position on a stack of pallets. “This will be your living quarters for the rest of the week. You’ll sleep here. Food will be delivered here. There’s an outhouse around back and a stall for showering. You will do those things when given permission. You may go to your classes, but otherwise, your ass is ours. Understood?”

There’s a murmur of yeses among the group, and I finally locate Reagan. It’s weird how much a haircut and a change of clothes altered her appearance. If I hadn’t been obsessing over her mouth for the last six months, I don’t think I would’ve made the connection. Royer should have, but he’s a self-absorbed asshole. He probably never really looked at Reagan’s face. Her tits, sure. Her eyes? Doubtful.

Like everyone else, she has a number taped to her shirt, #47. Her eyes are red from lack of sleep and her hair is a mess from the bag. The dark curls hang over her forehead, and she tries to hide behind it, using the swoop of bangs to cover her eyes.

I jab Royer and ask, “Any idea who you’re going to pick?”

Officers traditionally choose one pledge to champion, harass, and bet on during the gauntlet. It’s a good excuse to keep Reagan close.

“I’m torn between eighteen and six.” Hawthorne and Thompson. Both solid picks. Legacies, athletes, rich and smart. He looks over at me. “What about you?”

I pretend to search the crowd, like I’m still thinking about it. I’m not one to tip my hand, but I need to know if he suspects anything. “I kind of want to see what forty-seven is all about.”

“The one with the letter? Theo?” Knox asks, walking over and resting the bullhorn on the floor. “Seems kind of weak, although he was quick to hook up with Brianna last night. Dude doesn’t waste time.” He laughs. “Do you really think he’ll make it through the gauntlet?”

I shrug. “I’m willing to take the risk.”

Royer’s eyes go to Reagan, assessing her carefully. “I don’t know. That letter still rubs me the wrong way. Who is the council to tell us who to let in?”

It’s clear he doesn’t realize who Theo really is. Probably because he’s still bitter about the council getting involved. Royer isn’t used to people telling him what to do or setting limits on his actions. None of us are really, but he dislikes it more than anyone. I just choose to find my own way around the rules. I watch Reagan unroll her sleeping bag on the dusty floor. “If this kid is so important to the Council, then I feel like I should give him special treatment. Make sure he’s really up to the standards of being a Zeta Sig.”

Royer laughs. “Good point.”

I rub my hands together, thinking about the potential. When I locked Reagan into this agreement, I wasn’t sure how it would work out. If she’d even show back up, but now that we’re here, I’m excited. The possibilities for the week are endless. To the rest of the frat, it will just look like I’m molding a pledge into a brother, but in reality, I’ll be breaking down this little bitch who thinks she can get one over on the Zeta Sigs,and, taking out our current president.

For the next week, Reagan Lake, or as she’ll be known for the rest of the week, number forty-seven, is mine.