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nose, looking lost in thought. “Maybe you’re right,” he mumbled.
    I nodded. “I am.”
    â€œBut still, anything goes to win.”

5
N INETEEN M ORE E NEMIES
    Monday, September 9
    10:00 P.M .
    A TINNY, HOLLOW, METALLIC VOICE CAME FROM a battery-powered megaphone in the dark side of the dining room where me and the other pledges were lined up side-by-side facing a bunch of flashlights that kept shining in our faces.
    â€œAsshole pledges! When your name is called, take one step forward! When the next name is called, immediately get back into line! We want to know who you are! Pledge President first! Grossberg! Why you at this shit-ass school?”
    Not only was he the only Jew in the pledge class but he was dumb enough to be the only volunteer for the stupid job.
    He shrugged his broad shoulders and smiled sheepishly. “Heard it was easy work, lots of fun, lots of pussy.”
    A big cheer went up.
    â€œFroggy from Quebec! Why come this far to college?”
    The guy with a dark, shaggy Beatles haircut took a step forward. He burped loudly before answering, “Beach Boys song.
California Girls
.”
    â€œStafford!” somebody yelled out. “What’s your favorite sex act?”
    â€œShaving a pussy, then giving her anal.”
    The place roared with laughter followed by enthusiastic applause.
    â€œHow old are you?”
    â€œTwenty-six.”
    â€œAren’t you a little old for college and to pledge a fraternity?”
    â€œIt took me a while but I finally realized the importance of an education. And I want to be part of a group of guys who know how to have fun.”
    â€œHymen breaker! Is Stafford really your cousin?”
    My asshole cousin Lyman, with his 3.92 high school grade point average, must’ve correctly figured that Lyman rhymed with Hymen, and took a timid step forward.
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œYou really admitted to Stanford and Berkeley?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œThen why’re you here?”
    â€œDoctor told me to take a year off. Too much stress and anxiety from trying to be the class valedictorian. Then the depression I had from only being fifth in the class.”
    â€œSo why’re you here instead of going to the beach for a year?”
    â€œTo keep active. I heard the work here’s barely high school level. Besides there’s a Sig O chapter at Berkeley and Stanford that I can transfer into next year.”
    â€œHey, you! Stafford!” came a gruff voice from somebody I couldn’t see.
    A big guy with muscles coming out of muscles and a snarling expression on his scarred, ugly face made his way from the back of the room and staggered up to me, stinking of liquor. He was wearing a camouflaged baseball cap with the black letters USMC under the globe and anchor.
    â€œSince high school ‘till now, you ever been in the military?”
    â€œFuck no,” I said too quickly, pissing off this Hercules-size idiot even more.
    He inched closer to me, considerately letting me smell his rancid, alcohol breath from a closer distance. “My name’s Parker. Stafford, I never liked you from the second I met you. You know why?”
    I shook my head a little and stood there silently.
    â€œBecause you got an attitude! You think you’re better and smarter than anybody here!” He paused for a second. I stayed silent. “I guarantee you right now, you’ll never get voted in this fraternity!”
    I still didn’t answer, knowing that if I got kicked out, none of the rest of these assholes would be here either.
    This burly lunatic gripped the bill on the cap, yanked it off his head and slapped it on top of my head. “You’ll wear this cap every time you’re in the house! You understand?”
    I adjusted the cap so it fit better and nodded. “Yeah.”
    Bookie’s voice yelled out, “Odds on Stafford making the fraternity are now 150-1.”
    The thick smoke in the room