Page 10

Moscow, Idaho

T omorrow is Bid Day, and Ethan Chapin and his brother, Hunter, have options.

In the freshman dorms, Ethan, all six foot four of him, turns on the shower, stands under the torrent of hot water, and closes the stall door. He wants a moment of privacy. He wants a moment to mull over the choice he’s facing.

The Chapin triplets grew up in Mount Vernon, Washington, two hours north of Seattle, and they seem to have it all: looks, height, smarts, athletic ability, likability.

Ethan is a superb athlete. He played varsity basketball.

Hunter was right there with him, but always one step behind, sometimes on the bench.

Their blond sister, Maizie, played varsity soccer.

All three of them are first-rate golfers.

And all three of them are as tight as can be. They’ve shared rooms and meals since they were born. Before, even. During her pregnancy, Stacy Chapin, their mom, used to joke that Hunter, who was born last, was on top in “the penthouse.”

It’s unsaid but understood that whatever choice Ethan makes, Hunter will follow. That’s the dynamic of their relationship. Always has been. So Ethan is thinking pretty hard about what his decision will be, knowing it affects them both.

The obvious choice is Sigma Chi. It’s the fraternity for athletes who have smarts.

And yet he’s leaning toward Phi Delta Theta. Which is, by reputation, a dry house, but it’s also known as the stoner-gamer house.

Not Ethan’s thing. But an older Delt has been persuasive. Over several meetings during rush, Hunter Johnson, who is doing a master’s in athletic training, has made an understated yet confident case for Phi Delta Theta by demonstrating qualities that Ethan admires in a brother.

Ethan gets out of the shower still lost in thought. A door bangs open. He looks up.

Emerging from the next shower stall is another freshman, Tim DeWulf, a blond hunk of a varsity basketball and soccer player from Odessa, Washington, a small farming community. DeWulf, who is also six foot four, exudes masculinity.

“Hey, Tim,” Ethan says. “What house are you going into?”

Tim looks at Ethan like he’s stupid. “Duh. Sigma Chi,” he says. It’s the natural fit for athletic dudes like them.

“Oh,” says Ethan. “Well, I was thinking of Phi Delta Theta. Because of Hunter Johnson.”

Hunter Johnson, Ethan feels, has a unique sort of soulful charm. He’s a talented guitar player. He’s slender yet athletic—but also goofy.

But Tim DeWulf is it.

Ethan pauses, then says, “But if you’re going to Sigma Chi, then I’m going to Sigma Chi.”

And with that, the angst is over. The decision is made.