Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
Charles
“This is the list?” Jenny asks.
“It’s where we’re starting. The most likely suspects and then narrowing down from there.”
“With any luck,” Zeke says, “none of them will be our guy. I don’t like the thought of one of my brothers screwing us over.”
She hums and turns over the paper, as though checking the other side.
Zeke and I called a meeting with each of the houses to fill them in on what happened and try to get ideas on how to fix the problem.
Both our houses worked on the list, and it was the first time I think we’ve all been in a room without insults flying around.
Might be because some of my brothers heard us fucking like animals the other day and now don’t know what to think—thankfully, none of them have actually asked me about it.
“What I’m struggling with is why. A lot of these guys are graduating soon. What reason would they have for getting you shut down?”
“I don’t care about the why, I care about the who,” Zeke answers. “I want it dealt with.”
She throws a skeptical look my way before turning back to the list.
“Wait, my name is on here,” Hugh says, pointing at the petition. “I didn’t sign this.”
I lean over and check out where his name has been scrawled across the line. “That’s not your signature?”
“No, it is. But there’s no way I’d have signed to have Sigma house shut down.” He turns to Zeke. “You guys throw the best parties.”
“Not anymore, we don’t.”
The whole room seems to droop.
“Well, we need to fix that before graduation bash, don’t we?
” Christa, the Zeta president, says. She’s how I’d imagine a Barbie doll who’d come to life would look, and she’s probably the smartest person in the room.
I have no idea what theoretical and mathematical physics entails, but with that many letters, I assume it’s complicated.
“Let’s hope.” Zeke leans back in his chair and tucks his hands behind his head. “Does anyone have actual ideas on how to do that though? Because I’m fresh out.”
I’m not sure if the lack of answers is because people are thinking or have no clue what to suggest.
“You said you’ve texted with them?” Jenny clarifies. “Can I see?”
Zeke hands over his phone. Nearly everyone is looking through the reports the dean passed on to us, but Christa is typing furiously on her laptop.
“This might be obvious, but these messages feel personal,” Jenny says.
“Well, yeah. They hate all my guys.”
“May I see?” Christa asks.
When Zeke gives the okay, Jenny hands over the phone.
“I don’t think it’s that though,” Jenny pushes.
“I agree.” Christa glances back at the list of suspects and at the texts again. “Who out of these names do you have a good relationship with?” she asks.
“Everyone,” Zeke says like it should be obvious. “They’re my brothers, and we work closely together.”
“So why would any of them want to get you specifically in trouble? That’s clearly what they were planning when they asked you to meet them.”
“Because I’m president? I don’t know.”
She hums, pink-painted finger tapping the corner of her glossy lips. “Look here. I don’t like you. Not Sigmas. Not your fraternity. But you.”
My eyes narrow. “I thought that was the collective you?”
“It reads very targeted. Then there’s the fact this person knew ‘parameters’ would implicate Charles because when you vaguely mentioned the somebody you were thinking of, the poster knew it was a ‘him.’ And they used the term ‘geeds.’ How many people do you know who use that word?”
“Frat guys,” I say. “I don’t think I’ve heard it from anyone else.”
“That’s a big pool though,” Zeke points out.
“Is it?” Christa blinks at him through giant glasses. “I know it’s been coined by fraternity members, but there’s only a certain type of brother who uses that terminology. Charles, do you or your brothers use it?”
I stumble over the question, trying to think. “I … I don’t think so.”
She nods. “From my experience, it’s usually the members who try to behave like a rom-com frat boy, or … jocks.”
Zeke sighs. “My house again.”
“Which doesn’t make sense. There’s no logical reason for anyone in your house to do this.”
“That we know of,” I add.
Christa props her chin in her hand and turns her attention to Zeke. “Have you checked your house for anyone wearing these shoes?”
“Yeah, I’ve been keeping my eye out, but most of the guys who own Ultraboosts have had the same pair forever, and the ones who have new ones aren’t a match.”
“There’s also the part about the shitkickers,” Jenny says. “No offense, but I can’t picture any of your execs being all that worried about how the pledges are treated.”
“We … worry,” Zeke says with no conviction. “We just believe that the brotherhood needs to be built. You connect with people when you’ve been through hard work together.”
Jenny taps her nails on the table. “I don’t think it’s anyone on this list.”
“Then who else?” Zeke asks.
“That’s what we need to figure out.”
“Here,” Hugh says. “The rest of you check this for your names. In the meanwhile, I think we need to Venn diagram this shit. Work out who has those shoes you saw along with who has ties to a fraternity and access to the dean’s office.”
“And if we figure out who it is?” I ask.
Christa clears her throat. “Here’s my proposal. The petition is invalid when we can prove that at least some of the names have been forged—those of us with our names attached will email the dean and state that we had no affiliation with this document.”
“It might also help to point out it’s a felony,” I add. “And that you’re seriously concerned about circumstantial evidence being taken as fact and the forgery ignored.”
“Good point.” She makes a note. “Now, you need to put your pre-law knowledge to use and comb the bylaws on fraternity operation. We’ll distribute images of the shoes in question to every member of our houses and tell them to compile a list of anyone wearing them on campus.
We need to find if anyone we know works administration for the school or volunteers in the offices—there has to be someone—and that person needs to get us a list of anyone with access to the dean’s building.
And while we work on smoking this fish out, my sisters and I will do what we do best: social media. ”
“How does that help?” Zeke asks. “It’s what got us into this mess.”
“Bless,” she mutters. “It’s the court of public opinion.
The dean is worried about tarnishing the school’s image, and he should be.
Hazing is serious. So, let’s get a jump on it.
After the new Zeta house was built, our social media exploded.
We have reach and relevancy, and spinning the story that a fraternity is being targeted with false claims directly after a number of its executives has come out as queer will cause a tidal wave of support. ”
“Nah.” The legs of Zeke’s chair hit the floor. “I don’t want my brothers exploited.”
“It’s not exploitation when it’s the truth.”
Still feels iffy to me. On one hand, I get what she’s saying, but I also understand where Zeke is coming from. “Queerness isn’t a weapon.”
“You’re wrong. Queerness has been weaponized against the LGBTQ community forever. It still is. I’m not advocating lying, simply stating the necessary facts in an order that will have people connect the dots the way we want.”
It’s hard to argue with that. Besides, if it means finding a way to get Sigma house out of this mess, to take the pressure off Zeke’s shoulders and get things back to the way they’ve always been, I’m prepared to do anything at this point.
I clear my throat. “In that case, it’s a big coincidence that the person set up for these posts is also bi.”
Zeke’s attention whips toward me, and after a beat of silence, Jenny says, “Do you mean you?”
“Yeah, it’s not like it’s a secret.” Anymore, at least.
Christa reaches over to squeeze my shoulder.
“Good. The Free Sigma campaign starts now. My sisters and I will organize everything, but you’ll all need to have your members share and interact to have the message spread far and wide.
Hugh, please have your members put together a counterpetition, and Jenny, I’d appreciate it if your girls can work on the existing list and find as many people as you can who are willing to say they never signed this. ”
Jenny slides the petition into her bag. “Yeah, for sure.”
Zeke rakes both hands through his hair and exhales loudly. “We need to get this asshole. It might be too late to do things like spring formal, but I can’t walk away from here knowing this guy has won.”
“How’s Robbie feel about spring formal?” Jenny asks. “He organized most of it.”
“Miserable. We all are.”
I’m not surprised. Getting in a tux and playing fancy, having the executives honored—or in the Sigmas’ case, roasted—by our brothers is the highlight of our year. No exams, no frat politics, just fun. I can’t imagine it without them there.
None of us could.
I bite my nail, a plan slowly coming to me.
“Right.” Christa claps her hands together. “Well, this meeting has gone swimmingly, wouldn’t you all agree?”
That’s one word for it. My head is still spinning from outing myself, and the speed with which Christa came up with that plan has me left feeling like I’ve been steamrolled. But we have something. Something I feel good about.
Now let’s hope it works.