Head to the Party

You stand outside of the Fiji house, the third among many along the intimidating frat row. There’s music booming from inside, but you don’t really hear the other characteristic sounds of a party - people talking and laughing, the occasional drunken roar. There are two brothers sprawled on lounge chairs on the front lawn, passing a joint between them.

“Yo, what’s good,” one of them says, tilting his head up to look at you.

“Just heading into the party,” you say. “What, am I not allowed or something?”

“Nah bro, you’re just early. Everybody knows you don’t come to the party early,” the other guy says.

You figure that heading inside is probably better than standing around awkwardly talking with these two enlightened gentlemen, and so you pass them by - both of them giving you two finger salutes - and you head into the house.

What hits you first is the stench. The place smells like a combination of crusty sweat and sour beer, and the odour is just heavy enough that it lingers in your head, even as you walk into a large space where some people are talking by an open bar. From their attire and the letters they’re repping, you can tell that they’re all Fiji guys.

“What up,” one of the guys, a broad-shouldered Hispanic guy calls, waving you over. “You a freshman I take it? Still kinda new to this whole scene?”

“Yeah, you could say so,” you say, giving him the rundown about your time in the hospital. He winces in sympathy as you talk about all the other guys finishing off the Freshman 15, while you’re stuck here having to do things the hard way.

“Tell you what, man, we brothers were placed here on Earth to help each other out. And though you’re not officially a brother, I’m going to do you a solid here. We’re about to do a little pre-party mixer with Chi O in the ballroom here - technically not open to the public, but I’ll let you stay and you can shoot your best shot,” the guy says, patting you on the back.

“Thanks…”

“My name’s Dylan.”

“Thanks Dylan! I’m Alex, by the way. Forever in your debt,” you say, doing a deep bow.

“You should think about rushing,” Dylan laughs. “I’m sure you’d fit right in here.”

Just then, a boy wearing a tuxedo strides into the room, looking cocky as hell.

“You’re looking a little underdressed, Jack! The theme’s casual,” Dylan calls out.

“I figured I’d go for a cleaner look, so no cravat today,” Jack replies, grabbing a beer from the cooler. “You want to borrow mine tonight?”

“Yeah, I could use a bandanna tonight - a cravat would complete the pirate look,” you reply.

Jack looks at you and narrows his eyes. “Repeat what you just said. Come on, I dare you.”

“Hey, hey, can’t you take a joke?” you say. “We’re all friends here.”

“No, no, I don’t think you are a friend,” Jack says. “In fact, I’m thinking that you should be leaving right about now. We’re about to host an exclusive, private event with some of the hottest chicks on campus, and I don’t think you’re welcome.”

You start to head out of the room, not wanting to deal with this confrontation, but Dylan holds up a hand. “Jack, Alex is here as my guest. You are not kicking him out. Speaking of which, looks like it’s time to the let the girls in.”

Through the windows, you can see the two brothers who were lounging outside enthusiastically greeting the dozen or so girls standing outside the house. Soon, the doors open, and the girls begin coming in through the door - and a brother makes sure to bar it when the last one has entered.

Dylan +10
Jack -5