Page 24 of Seeds of Friendship
“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.
