Page 7 of Puck Shots
I can’t help but notice Toby rolling his eyes my way as he positions himself beside Riley. I shouldn’t let him get to me. I’ve been dealing with dicks like him my whole life. Why would college be any different?
I walk behind them, taking in the house some more. The dark wood floors are original to the house, and the white walls andceilings make the space seem bigger than it actually is. There are photos of former frat presidents and VPs on the walls along with group shots of graduating years going back to the beginning. This is why I am here. To find a place I belong, people to connect with, to make friends.
The house has way more people in it now, and it suddenly doesn’t feel big at all. It’s like the walls are closing in, the space getting smaller and smaller.
No. Not now. Don’t freak out. The room is big. The room is big.
I try to calculate the dimensions in my head, another trick to pull myself free of my anxiety, but I stop when he walks in. Tall, broad, tanned, and fucking gorgeous, this guy cuts through the chaos with ease, moving from person to person, laughing, smiling, as every one of them folds under his gaze, but I’m in no way prepared for when he looks right at me. His bright blue-grey eyes send off a flurry of nerves in my gut as he smirks and heads our way.
“Hey, Flash, these are two of our legacies,” Riley says, and the smirk is replaced by a wide smile.
“Oh, hey, welcome to KOK, brothers, pledges. You know what I mean.” He laughs.
“This is Eli and Tony,” Riley says, and I can’t help but smile at his mistake.
“Toby,” Toby reminds him.
“Right, Toby, sorry,” he replies with a smirk. Did he get his name wrong on purpose? “This is Cosmo, AKA Flash. He’s one of the many hockey wanna-be-gods in the house.”
Cosmo scoffs. “Riley’s just mad because the Pres’s precious butterfly net is missing.”
Riley’s gaze jolts to the back of the room.
“Not again, guys,” he yells out, and the room goes quiet. “Get that hockey stick off the mantle, you know the rules,” he says, storming through the crowd.
I follow everyone’s stare to the mantle where a wooden shield sits leaning on the wall, holding a bright red hockey stick.
When he gets through the crowd, he yanks the stick down, tossing it to the floor.
“You’ve got until the Pres is home to have his lacrosse stick back on the mantle, or the whole house will be in for it,” Riley says, and a few guys rush from the room.
“What are you waiting for, pledges?” Cosmo says, turning to us.
“Sorry, what?” I ask, and he shakes his head.
“Go on, you heard the VP. Better get looking for that butterfly net before the Pres gets here.”
Toby is off like a shot, rushing up the stairs, but I get to thinking. Lacrosse sticks aren’t exactly small. I’m guessing they wouldn’t want us pledges rummaging through the bedrooms, so that narrows it down, and there are only so many cupboards you could hide it in, and the rest of the guys seem to have those covered. I watch a guy pull everything out of the hall coat closet, stumbling on shoes and various sporting helmets before trying to shove them all back in to close the door again. Maybe it isn’t even still in the house.
The easiest place to hide it would actually be in the woods behind the house. Maybe I should take that walk after all.
3
Cosmo
The pledges run around the house looking for the lacrosse stick, and some of the guys yell out warnings, like, “You’ll be sleeping on the front lawn if you don’t find it soon.” Not that we could actually have them do that. One thing that has changed over the last few years is the types of hazing we can and can’t do. I mean, I am all for a good joke, but I wasn’t sad to see some of the old stuff banned, either. Now, anything that can get a pledge hurt is off limits. Lucky for KOK, waking them up at five o’clock in the morning with a foghorn and having them run laps up Greek row in their underwear is acceptable. There are a few frats that push the limits. One duct taped a kid to a metal light post and left him there for the night. It became pretty dangerous when a freak lightning storm hit. Good thing campus security found him before it really kicked off and cut him free.
“Can we go into the bedrooms?” someone yells down, and I lean over the stair rail to call back.
“No. It’s not in a bedroom, keep looking, pledges,” I reply, and Riley shoots me a look. “I’m guessing. Because it was totally not me that took it. I swear.”
Leo Salamander, President of the frat house, likes to keep his lacrosse stick on display on the mantle in the main living room. That is, when he isn’t running around trying to catch butterflies with it. At least that’s what they look like running around out there on the lacrosse field. I personally think the hockey stick looks way better on the mantle. Riley doesn’t agree.
“Where did you put it?” Luka whispers in my ear.
“Up a tree out back. No one will find it before Pres gets back.”
His gaze moves past the crowd to the window overlooking the yard.
