Page 10 of Seeds of Friendship (University of Mountain Springs)

Saturday. D-Day.

The house smells like Troy's been cooking since dawn—which he has. I stumble into the kitchen to find him surrounded by what looks like enough food to feed a small army.

“Jesus, did you rob a grocery store?”

“I want options,” he says, not looking up from whatever he's chopping. “We can't just serve chips and warm beer like every other college party.”

“We literally are serving chips and warm beer.”

“Not just that.”

Ethan's in the living room, untangling approximately seventeen miles of speaker wire. “My cousin came through. This system could blow out windows if we want.”

“Let's not,” Alfie says from his corner, where he's doing something with his laptop. “I'm making a playlist that doesn't completely suck.”

“You're making a playlist?” I ask, surprised.

“If I have to listen to music all night, it's going to be tolerable music.”

My phone buzzes. Three different girls from my Business class confirming they're coming. I've spent the last two days in full charm offensive mode—flirting with everything that moves, promising the party of the century.

“Yo, Troy,” I call out. “Didn't you say some Alpha Pi guys were coming?”

Troy grins, wiping his hands. “Jared and his crew. They're pledging this year but have a few juniors on their side. They think Connor's a dick. Apparently, half the frat can't stand the Matthews brothers, but they run too much to challenge them.”

“Enemy of my enemy,” Ethan says, finally getting the speakers positioned.

The doorbell rings. Troy goes to answer and comes back with four guys I recognize from campus—Alpha Pi letters on their shirts.

“This the anti-frat?” one asks, looking around.

“This is it,” I confirm.

Jared laughs. “Connor's losing his shit about this party. Roland had to physically stop him from coming over here again.” He spots the Einstein poster with its battle scar. “Ha! Sick.”

“Professor E,” Ethan says proudly. “He's seen some shit.”

“That's fucking brilliant.” Jared pulls out his phone. “Mind if I post this? Tag the guys?”

“Please do,” Troy says.

Within minutes, our vandalized Einstein is all over Instagram. The comments start rolling in—people love it. The image of Einstein with his tongue out and a red streak across his face, captioned “The Anti-Frat: No Letters, No Rules, All Party.”

“It's working,” Alfie observes, looking at his phone. “Miranda Walsh just texted asking if I'll really be here.”

“The hot senior? She’s interested? I heard she’s going to New York straight after graduating to go on runways,” Jared comments.

“And?”

“I said yes.” He looks pained.

I check the time—6 PM. Four hours until official start time.

“I need to make a supply run,” I announce. “Last-minute shit.”

“I'll come,” Jared offers. “I've got a car.”

As we drive, Jared says, “You know what you guys are doing? It's actually pretty cool. Fuck the Greek system politics.”

“You're literally in a frat.”

“Yeah, and it's exhausting. I’m only in it because my Dad’s a legacy and he’d be pissed if I didn’t join. Do you know how much bullshit I have to deal with because Connor's brother is alumni leadership? The whole house walks on eggshells around them.”

We load up on last-minute essentials—more solo cups than any party should need, bags of ice, the kind of cheap vodka that burns but does the job.

“Your roommate,” Jared says as we load the car. “Alfie. What's his deal?”

“Honestly? No fucking clue. He’s nice once you get to know him. But apparently, he's got half the female population ready to risk everything for a chance with him.”

“Must be nice.” Jared whistles.

When we get back, the house is transformed. The lights are dimmed just right, furniture rearranged to create flow.

Troy's food is laid out. Alfie's playlist is actually good—not too aggressive, not too mellow.

“Holy shit,” I say. “We actually did this.”

“Don't jinx it,” Troy warns.

By 9:30, we're all dressed and ready. Even Alfie made an effort—black jeans, black t-shirt.

“Remember,” I say, gathering them together. “Tonight, we're not the rejects. We're the guys who started something better.”

“That was almost inspiring,” Alfie deadpans.

“Fuck off, I'm trying.”

Ethan raises his beer. “To the anti-frat. To telling Connor Matthews to go fuck himself. To Alfie's mysterious sex appeal that none of us understand.”

“To Einstein,” Troy adds.

“To not being homeless,” I finish.

We clink bottles.

10 PM.

Nobody's here yet.

10:15.

Still nobody.

“They're not coming,” Ethan says, panic creeping into his voice.

“They'll come,” Troy insists, but he's checking his phone obsessively.

10:23.

The doorbell rings.

We all freeze, looking at each other.

“Someone should—” I start.

Troy's already moving. He opens the door.

A group of girls, led by Miranda Walsh and Jessica Davies. Behind them, more people. Within minutes, our dead house is suddenly alive. Within half an hour, it's packed.

“Holy shit,” Ethan whispers. “We did it.”

Jared and his Alpha Pi rebellion show up, bringing more people. The music's loud, but not overwhelming. People are actually eating Troy's food, complimenting it. And Alfie—

“Where's Alfie?” I ask.

We find him cornered by three girls in the kitchen, looking like a trapped animal.

“Save me,” he mouths over their heads.

But before we can, more people flood in. The party takes on a life of its own. People are taking pictures with Einstein, turning him into some kind of ironic icon. Someone starts a “Fuck Connor Matthews” chant that we probably should stop but don't.

This is it. We're not the losers on Oak Street anymore. We're the house that threw the party everyone will be talking about.

I grab another beer, the music pounding through the floor, and think—we actually fucking pulled this off. Four idiots who couldn't figure out housing just created something Alpha Pi could never replicate.

No rules. No hierarchy. Just a good fucking time.

The anti-frat is officially born.