This is standard for Greek Row. Weekends around here are insane. The street is thrown into complete chaos and always looks like a rundown nightmare where the next street over is pristine.
In front of the house, five girls wearing white bathing suits stand in front of a row of Delta Sig brothers, squirting them with a hose. A few guys are on the roof dressed in bright bathing suits, some with Hawaiian flowers on them and leis around their necks.
None of them are wearing shirts, though they have Greek letters written across their chests in ink. They’re pounding beers and screaming at girls across the street. It’s like a scene from Animal House, complete with the animals.
“Why would they throw trash on their lawn when they have to pick it up in the morning?” I ask Jordan.
Jordan glances over at the house and chuckles. “That’s what pledges are for, silly. Those guys aren’t cleaning shit tomorrow.”
I shake my head because I’m still a pledge.
Everyone partied at my previous college, and we had a handful of fraternities and sororities, but it was nothing compared to Strickland University’s Greek life. The entire campus comes alive on weekends, the parties spanning city blocks. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. And I love it despite being overwhelmed and terrified by the madness surrounding me.
We walk past a group of drunk girls in sexy nurse costumes. They clasp cups of beer, hanging onto the arms of the men dressed in blue scrubs. The sheer amount of people at this party amazes me. The Kappa Delta chapter house is enormous, but I couldn’t imagine fitting these people inside.
Music thumps out the doors and windows, a rap beat pounding in my ears as we approach the long line before us.
“I thought they invited us,” I say to Jordan, wondering why we must wait in line.
“There’s always a wait to get in. But it’s worth it.”
“You bet your ass it is.” Shannon beams with excitement. “Everyone who’s anyone will be here tonight. It’s all anyone has talked about this week.”
I try not to laugh or roll my eyes. It’s just a party. They’re acting like celebrities will attend tonight. I mean, seriously, they need to get a grip.
Zoe checks her cell phone and leans into me. “Did you see Dethroned?”
“Who hasn’t?”
“She ripped Tucker Kane a new one,” Riley says with laughter. “I can’t wait to see which hockey players she dethrones next.”
For Trent’s sake, I hope he never lands on that blog. Our relationship could easily be exposed to the entire campus.
“There’s an app,” Riley says. “You can send in tips to The Queen if you download it onto your phone.”
“I’m good,” I say.
Zoe looks down at her phone. “Is she only going after the hockey team? It seems like she has a hard-on for them.”
“You’re talking to Trent, right?” Riley asks me.
I smile. “We’ve kissed a few times.”
“Girl, what if you end up on this blog? You might want to keep your distance until The Queen backs away from the hockey team.”
“I’m not walking away from Trent, regardless of what some girl writes about them on her blog.”
Zoe nods. “You like him, huh?”
“Who wouldn’t?” Riley chimes. “The Kane twins are set your panties on fire hot.”
I giggle at her comment but don’t add my two cents. They eventually move onto another topic, to my relief.
The line inches along the pavement until almost twenty minutes pass, and we climb the stairs. We halt in front of a good-looking guy dressed as a pimp with a cane and top hat, money shoved in the pockets of his black jacket. Lipstick is on his collar, spreading up his neck where he has lip marks in different shades.
He’s hunched over on a stool on the porch, shuffling money in his hands. Ignoring us, he stuffs some of it in a box next to him and then leans back against the house, his eyes fixed on us. Scanning every inch of our bodies, he takes us in for a few seconds too long.
“Give me your hand,” he says.
