Page 30 of Kingston
Looking closely, I realize they’re clearly split into three groups. My stomach flips violently. Alec, Joel, and Stuart stand with Will on the left. In the middle, Zeke is with who I assume are the graduated seniors. And, as he mentioned to me earlier, Dane is with Cannon, Archer, and Kingston on the right.
My poor Will. Alec, Joel, and Stuart have rubbed me the wrong way since the moment I walked through the door. Anger coils inside me like a snake. I pull my phone out of my pocket and take a quick photo of the image to have for reference. What did they do to my friend? Where is he?
* * *
When I wake up several hours later after a much-needed nap, it’s not exactly bright outside anymore. I must have slept for hours, which is insane because after my discovery this afternoon, my brain has been tormented by the idea of Will having to hang out with and answer to those assholes.
I stretch carefully. If there’s nothing else on the agenda for tonight, I’d like to stay in. Classes start tomorrow, and I haven’t had a second to think about them since I got here. And my mind is being pulled in so many directions, I’m surprised my brain hasn’t sprung a leak.
Just as I sit up in bed, avoiding the bruise on my Cannon-bitten cheek, there’s a pounding on my door. Whoever is out there is impatient, and I don’t get a chance to respond before the door flies open. “Hey. Why aren’t you dressed?” Kingston stands frowning at me. “It’s ten after nine, and I don’t care how pissed off you are at us, you’ll get your ass downstairs.”
I blink. “Okay.” The way he’s looking at me is downright angry. In my haze of sleepiness, I ask, “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” He scowls, tilting his head at me. “You were supposed to be down at nine. We have a brother party, and the initiate games also begin tonight.”
Brother party? Initiate games?Nope.
Before I can open my mouth to tell him no one told me, he barrels on. “Next time someone tells you to be somewhere at a particular time, you’ll be there.”
My mouth opens, then snaps shut. I get the feeling someone was supposed to have relayed a message to me and didn’t. “Yeah. Sorry about that. Am I okay to come downstairs as is, or should I change?”
Kingston takes a look at me, his gaze moving from my tank top to the cutoff jean shorts, then his eyes wander around the room. “As long as you’re comfortable leaving the house and running around in what you’re wearing, then it’s fine.”
I nod, getting up from the bed and slipping on a pair of flip-flops with little rhinestones all over the straps. “I’m ready, then.”
He chuckles roughly as he walks from my room. “We’ll see about that.”
In the living area, I find everyone is already seated, and the only place left is with Joel and Stuart. Neither guy is my idea of a good time, especially with what I now know, but I slip into the space between them on the leather cushion anyway.
Stuart smirks, nudging me. “What’d you do, miss the memo, baby doll?”
I glare at him and his stupid face. Condescension practically drips from his pores. He makes eye contact with Bridger across the room, who’s sitting in one of the two cushy leather chairs with Alec at his side, and I suspect I know who was supposed to have filled me in on this meeting. It’s all good. I’ll take the high road. He’ll think I’m scared to say anything. Meanwhile, maybe I’ll put something smelly under his bed. I’ll be sure to figure out how I’ll retaliate later because I don’t intend to let these sorts of things slide. I give Bridger a little wave and shoot him a wink for good measure.
All three of my guys are up at the front of the room. Cannon is strangely unable to remain still, but the other two don’t seem to mind. Archer claps his hands together. “Okay, now that Peaches is here, let’s explain what’s about to happen.”
Some snickering is audible, but I don’t know whether it’s Archer’s nickname for me or simply laughter from the brothers who are in the know about what tonight’s plan is.
Either way, Archer continues, ignoring their idiocy. “So, you see we do a little something every Sunday night. Brothers have a nice, relaxed evening. We call it Brother Party, but it’s more of a hang out. We play poker or pool or have a movie marathon. Something fun. No one else is invited. You’ll find we very seldom invite people from outside the brotherhood into Hawthorne Hall.”
I raise my hand and immediately feel like a dumb schoolgirl. “Sorry. I wondered why that was. We see fraternities and sororities having parties all the time. And we even attend them.”
“We prefer to keep this place as a sanctum for us. We’re exclusive and don’t give a shit what anyone else thinks about it. None of us wants this place to be trashed, anyway. I’ve never understood why frat houses operate the way they do.”
Alec leers at me, eyes on my bare legs. I instantly regret not changing. “If we were to have parties, Elliot, you’d be the one to clean up. You could wear those little short-shorts when you do. I’ll watch.” He chuckles behind his hand.
“Enough.” Kingston barks the word out like an exclamation point. “Now, while the brothers are having a good time, each initiate gets to participate in The Games. It’s always the same set of games, rules set out decades ago. All brothers are sworn to secrecy, so incoming freshmen never know what they’ll be up against.” He glances at me. “The Games are mostly for fun, but we’ll be keeping track with a point system. And believe me, you want to earn the prize at the end. Not to mention, should you win, it makes your brothers look really good. So, it’d be a great way to ingratiate yourself to those helping you through initiation.” He nods at Archer, who continues for him.
“The winner receives three points, second place gets two points, and whoever loses receives one. There’s usually another benefit to winning, but you won’t know what that is until The Games are over for the night.”
Taggart slowly raises his hand. “So, we do this every Sunday?”
Archer nods his confirmation. “Yep, every Sunday until you pass your final test. It’s about six weeks you’ll be in this initiation period.” He claps his hands together. “So. Tonight. The brothers will be indulging in a poker tournament. Initiates—” He stops for effect. “Initiates, you’ll each take one of these backpacks.”
I hadn’t noticed the plain black bags on the coffee table until he mentioned them. I bite my lip, nervous to hear whatever comes out of his mouth next.
He draws a card out of his pocket. It looks worn, like it’s been around a long time. He clears his throat, then reads from it. “Initiates will have one hour to collect as many pairs of women’s underwear as they can. At the end of that hour, there will be an accounting and points awarded. Restrictions include the following.” He pauses to clear his throat, then eyes me, Taggart, and Bridger before he continues. “One, you’re not to tell anyone why you want to divest them of their underthings. Two, initiates may only secure said underthings from houses on Greek Row—sorority or fraternity, doesn’t matter.”
Bridger wets his lips, his eyes flicking to mine, then Taggart’s.
