Bishop (A Frat Chronicles Novel)

by B. T. Urruela

  “Yo, he’s still unconscious,” Mac gleefully chirps, his hands straddling the porch railing as he takes in the scene below. “You may have done a little more than teach him a lesson. I think you knocked the stupid out of him. Might have even killed him,” Mac says over his shoulder with a chuckle.

  Sarge sets the folded flag on the couch, and then waves Mac off, replying, “He’ll be alright. Should’ve fucking listened.”

  “Shouldn’t have been on top of that vehicle anyway. If that were my ride, I would’ve kicked his ass myself,” Mac says, and we all laugh. “What?”

  “The day you beat somebody’s ass is the day I cut off my dick.” Jeremy laughs.

  “Fuck you. I can fight,” Mac says, offended. “It isn’t about the size of the dog in the fight. It’s ab—”

  “Oh, shut up. A skinny motherfucker like you probably made that shit up after gettin’ his ass kicked.” Jeremy lifts Mac’s arm in the air and inspects it, but Mac yanks it away.

  “You keep running that mouth and you’ll see,” Mac says, a cocky look on his face.

  Jeremy laughs, nodding his head slowly. “Yeah, Killer. I ain’t gonna hold my breath.”

  Mac punches Jeremy’s arm, but he doesn’t react. Instead, his eyes trail slowly from Mac, down to his own arm, and then back up, before he busts out laughing.

  “Your hand okay, Small Fry?” he asks.

  “I hate you.” Mac takes a seat on the couch and crosses his legs.

  “Oh, cheer up, Mac. You know Jeremy only fucks with you so much because he knows it gets to you,” I say, smirking.

  Mac shakes his head. “It’s cause he’s an asshole.”

  “Do I need to make you two kiss and make up?” I ask, laughing.

  “Yeah, I like the sound of that,” Jeremy responds, making kissy faces. “Mac, you wanna little piece of this country ass?”

  Mac glares at Jeremy. “Not even if you were the last ass on earth.”

  Sarge cocks an eyebrow, his focus shifting from Mac to Jeremy. “They ever stop bickering?” he asks, grinning as he points toward them.

  “Rarely. They’re like fuckin’ toddlers.”

  An abrupt commotion from down the street pulls our attention. Four guys shout loudly as they carry a beaten-up couch from the Sig Ep house, hundreds of others cheering them on in a crowd that encircles them.

  “Here we go,” Sarge mutters. “Fucking idiots. They’re going to ruin the celebration for everyone.”

  The four Sig Ep kids drop the couch in the middle of the street as another douses it with the contents of a gas can.

  “They’re way too fuckin’ close,” I say, shaking my head. “Dumb fucks are gonna blow themselves to kingdom come.”

  “Ah shit,” Mac says from behind me. “Piggies are starting to suspect something too. They’re looking down there.”

  A random from the crowd that surrounds the couch tosses his cigarette onto the gas-soaked fabric, just as the other idiot walks away with the gas can, and the couch goes up in a matter of seconds, flames dancing into the sky. The crowd backs up a bit as the intensity of the fire grows.

  The cop cars flip on their reds and blues, drawing my attention, and they slowly work their way down frat row, which may have even more people than when I first arrived, if that’s even possible. As the cops creep down the road at a snail’s pace, waiting for kids to move out of their way, sirens blaring into the night sky, I move my attention back to the fire, which has grown even taller. Some of the kids who surround it have begun throwing boxes, wood, and anything else they can find atop the ever-growing flames.

  A few of them have started their assault on some unsuspecting road signs, pulling them down until their parallel to the ground before moving on to the next one. Others have begun mingling around the front door of the Commons, and I worry the anarchy will spill into there before long.

  A firetruck makes its arrival known with blaring sirens as it sandwiches the crowd with the cops from the opposite side, though they can’t get to the fire from their side either, as the crowd around it has grown far too dense. They blare their horn, but either people don’t give a shit, or they’re too drunk to even realize they’re in the way. A few scatter like bugs, but nowhere near enough for expedited arrival. From the looks of it, the couch will be nothing but metal wire and ash by the time the firetruck makes its way through.

  I look at Sarge, disgust in my features. He shakes his head at the chaos below and takes a sip of his moonshine.

  “This is fuckin’ absurd, dude. Absolutely absurd. Do they even know what we’re celebratin’ here today?” I ask. “I mean, do they really get it?”

  “I highly doubt they’ve given it much thought,” Sarge responds. “The kids these days, man. It’s not like it was when we were younger. They’ve changed. I blame social media.”

  “I don’t think you’re too far off there, my friend.”

  He adds, “There’s no discipline anymore. No respect. They’re selfish, bored, and lazy. What do you do with that?”

  Mac slaps the back of his hand against Carter’s bicep. “Didn’t you say this couch burning stuff started in the sixties?”

  Carter chuckles. “It sure did.”

  Mac’s eyes trail to Sarge and me. “Listen to you old fucks. Kids haven’t changed. You have.”

  I nod my head with a grin. “You may be right on the money with that one, Mac. I think maybe I am gettin’ too old for this kind of shit.” Turning back toward the burning couch, which has died down in intensity a little, I can only shake my head, overwhelmed with the feeling that I just don’t belong here. I’m not so sure I ever really did. All the things I enjoyed about this life when I got here annoy the piss out of me now. All the things that made sense to me then are now so discombobulated. So pointless.

  “Guys …” I say, my eyes still on the fire, my back to them. “I don’t think I’m gonna stay here any longer.”

  “Heading home already?” Sarge asks.

  “No, I don’t mean tonight, though I think it is about time I head back.” I turn back toward them fully, motioning toward the fire burning behind me. “I’ve seen enough of this shit.” I pause for a moment before continuing, “What I meant was, I don’t think I’m gonna stay here in Crescent Falls after the semesters over. I’ve been thinking a lot about it these past fews weeks and I just think it’s what’s best for me. I think, maybe, I’ve overstayed my welcome around here.”

  “What the fuck are you sayin’? Overstayed your welcome through whose eyes?” Jeremy asks, wrinkles of concern in his forehead just like the others around him.

  “My own eyes. Guys, listen, I only made it this far because of you. Y’all are my brothers for life. I don’t take that lightly, nor will I ever. I just don’t feel like I fit in here anymore. I can feel myself regressing, not movin’ forward as I should be at this stage in my life. I hate my fuckin’ classes. And, honestly, I’m startin’ to hate this frat,” I say in a softer tone, so I can save myself any potential headaches due to prying ears. Only Sarge shows any bit of understanding. If I had to guess, he’s probably thought about leaving this place a time or two himself. If it weren’t for Jonah, he probably would have already. Maybe, now that Jonah’s proven to be a complete asshole, Sarge can meet me out in LA after he gets done with schooling. I imagine plastic surgery in California can be quite lucrative.

  “You can’t leave, bro!” Carter pleads, shaking his head, his face twisted in confusion and hurt. “That’s not how this works. Pledge bros have to stick together.”

  “And we will,” I respond. “Trust me, the shit we’ve been through, it’s forged our bond. Nothin’ breaks that.”

  “Where the hell are you even gonna go?” Jeremy asks, his features relaxed for the most part but an uneasy tension in his tone.

  “I’m goin’ out to LA. Decided I’m gonna try my hand at acting.”

  “No shit? That’s fantastic!” Sarge smiles wide, his brows relaxing. Of all these guys, he’s the only one I’ve spoken in d
etail with about my desire to act. He knows it’s not born of some need for fame or notoriety but driven by a genuine passion for losing myself in a well-written character, and the fulfillment gained from truly owning a room from atop the stage. Passing an approving nod, Sarge adds, “Really great to hear, Bishop. Seriously. Why not go for it? You’ll never know what could be until you do put yourself out there.”

  “Sarge, shut up, you ain’t helpin’ here,” Jeremy says, jabbing a pointer at him. He glances over at me. “You can’t go, man. You’re our leader. What the hell are we supposed to do without you?”

  The concern in his features now, opposite of the borderline apathy he showed initially, tugs at the heart strings a little.

  “As heart warmin’ as that is to hear, Jeremy, and I mean it, it really is … not even your pretty ass could keep me here. I’m ready to move forward. Progress. Grow. Y’all just need to come out to Cali and visit sometime soon.”

  Carter scoffs. “Alright, you’re totally bullshitting us,” he says. “You have to be.”

  “I’m not, man. I’m really not.” I look back out toward where the fire once blazed, now just smoldering ash and metal, and see the cop cars have finally arrived at the scene, the fire truck too. The crowd now pelts the dismounted police and firefighters with trash and bottles from the hills and porches that overlook the scene, and there are so many individuals throwing things, and so many within the vicinity, that officers have no chance of catching anyone in the act.

  Turning back, I pass my pledge brothers a look of resolve. “This place just ain’t for me, guys. It never really felt right. But you gotta know, nothin’ changes between us except location. That’s it. Our friendship”—I motion to the five of them—“that’ll never change. You guys are my brothers. Besides, we’ve got two weeks left to kick it and talk more about all this shit. Plenty of time to make some plans.”

  “This is just crazy. I was not expecting this tonight,” Carter mutters, his gaze fixed on the distance, seemingly struck by the realization that I’m not bullshitting him here.

  I take a step toward him and put a hand on his shoulder. Looking him in the eyes, I say, “Bro, nothin’ changes. I promise you that. Everything’ll work out just fine. Alright?”

  He reluctantly nods. “Yeah, yeah. I know. This just sucks big time. I don’t—I,” He keeps his eyes away from mine, hesitating for a moment, and then he continues, “I don’t know what to think here. Or what to say.”

  I give his shoulder a tight squeeze, and then I lean in, reiterating. “All is good, brother. All is good. Seriously, don’t worry about a thing.” Dropping my hand to my side, I scan the rest of my pledge brothers. “I need to get some sleep though, guys, I’m drained, but y’all still wanna meet here tomorrow for a date at Club Library like we talked about?”

  “Sounds good,” Mac responds. “Not too early though. I’m gonna be shitfaced tonight.”

  “We said eleven, right?” Carter asks.

  I nod. “Yeah, if that works for y’all.”

  “Still early, but I can manage,” Jeremy says, winking.

  Carter and Mac nod. “Same.”

  “Am I allowed at this shindig?” Sarge asks. “I’ve got some finals of my own to study for.”

  Looking at Sarge, my head tilted down and an eyebrow quirked, I rhetorically ask, “What do you think, fucker?”

  “Alright, well, then I’ll be there, or here, or whatever.”

  My eyes fall to the half empty moonshine bottle in his hand and I smile. “Yeah, we’ll see, Sarge. We’ll see.”

  “You certainly will see when I’m standing on this front porch at eleven waiting on your lazy ass,” Sarge says, passing me a sly smile.

  “Uh huh.” My tone drips with sarcasm. I pass them a quick two finger salute and then turn, crossing the porch toward the parking lot. Once I squeeze my way down the congested road, and making it about halfway to the smoldering couch frame when I hear Carter calling out my name from behind me. Turning back, I see him running to catch up.

  “What’s up, man?” I ask as he slows to a stop.

  “I want to come with you,” he blurts, and then bends over, resting his hands on his knees as he catches his breath.

  “Huh? Come with me where?”

  He straightens. “To LA. I got nothing here, Bish. I got no real family left. My dad gave his life to the bottle and died right along with the rest of my family in that accident.”

  “Carter…”

  “Don’t ‘Carter’ me, bro. This is what I want. It’s what I need. I can’t stay here either. No way.”

  “What about school?”

  “I’m a freshman. The few credits I do have will transfer over. What’s the difference between going to school here and going somewhere out there anyway?” He hesitates. “I don’t want to invite myself or anything. If you want to go alone, I totally understand. I just … I don’t know … when you were talking back there, I could relate to everything you were saying. I don’t fit in here either. And honestly, Bish, you’re like a big brother to me. I don’t connect with a whole lot of people and, you know, I get it if you don’t want me to, or whatever. I’m just—”

  I put my hand up to silence him. “Bro … do you really wanna come? One-hundred percent? No doubts?”

  “Yes! One-hundred and fifty percent. Zero doubts,” he responds assuredly.

  I smile, patting him on the shoulder. “May 20th then. Last day of classes. Have your bags packed and ready to go. We’ll have a long drive ahead of us.”

  His eyes go wide, his mouth gapes. “Are you fucking serious?! You really don’t mind?”

  “You think I wanna move all the way across the country by myself? Fuck no, man. Welcome aboard!”

  He hugs me, his excitement feels almost tangible. “Dude, this is going to be the best shit ever! I can’t wait!”

  “Glad to have you joinin’ me, man. Seriously. Talk more about it in the mornin’?”

  He nods, the smile still wide on his face. “Sounds good!”

  We slap hands, and then he turns on his heel and walks away with a new pep in his step.

  I smile, appreciating the fact that I not only feel fully content in my decision to leave this place, thanks to a painful assist from Carleigh, but that I’ll have a partner in crime along for the journey now too.

  I WAKE THE NEXT MORNING with a new sense of clarity, a belief that I’m doing the right thing, and a buzzing excitement for the end of the month, the semester, and my time here at Buchanan State. It’s a beautiful morning as the swell of spring has arrived. It’s night and day compared to when I first rode into town nearly six months ago, frost coating the ground and a nasty chill in the air. Now with summer knocking at the door, and the rolling hills, and the mountains beyond them, vibrant and alive with vegetation, Crescent Falls is one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen.

  Cruising down the road with my top and doors stripped from the Jeep and left back home, or what will be home for the next two weeks, at least, I make my way to the frat house to meet up with the guys. We’re a week away from finals and in much need of some time at the library. If I’m to transfer any of this semester’s credits, I need to kick ass on all my finals.

  As I pull up to the frat house, I spot Jeremy and Carter waiting on the porch for me. They pass a wave as I put the jeep in park, and climb out, lighting up a cigarette in the process.

  Taking a long puff on my cigarette as I scale the porch stairs, I approach them and put out a fist.

  “What’s up, bro?” Carter says, bumping knuckles with me, Jeremy following him.

  “Not too much. How y’all feelin’?” I ask.

  “I feel like I got run over by a fuckin’ train, man.” Jeremy chuckles, shaking his head in shame. “Way too much goddamn beer last night.”

  “I feel fine,” Carter says, shrugging. “I went home early. Those two assholes were goners by the time I left though.” He looks at Jeremy with a grin. “I don’t even know how your ass made it home.”
/>
  Chuckling, Jeremy says, “A kindly cab driver and the wherewithal to get the fuck outta Dodge before my world really started spinnin’.”

  “Mac didn’t go home with you?” I ask.

  Jeremy shakes his head. “Nah, I left before he did. He was smokin’ weed and drinkin’ with some of the other brothers when I finally called it quits. Didn’t wanna come with.”

  “I bet that motherfucker is face down on the cum couch right now.” I laugh, heading toward the parking lot and motioning for them to follow.

  “I surely wouldn’t doubt it,” Jeremy says from behind me. I reach the side door and open it, turning back toward him with a scrutinizing stare when he adds, “He and that couch have grown quite close this semester.”

  I chuckle, letting Jeremy hold the door while I walk into the basement. Trotting down the handful of stairs, I quip, “Jeremy, you’ve spent just as much time getting up close and personal with that couch as Mac has. You’ve got no room to talk,” and then I scan the room in its entirety with a lip reared back. The entire basement is trashed, red solo cups and empty beer bottles strewn about the ground, pong tables, and couches, and all three trashcans overflow with empty beer boxes and crumpled beer cans, cashed liquor bottles, and fast food waste. There are a couple brothers passed out on the couch, their faces adorned with Sharpie graffiti, but there’s no sign of Mac.

  “Looks like he’s bailed already.” I glance around the room once more, and then say, “Carter, maybe give him a call really quick before we head out. “See if he can meet us at the library if he’s even awake.”

  “Gotcha,” Carter responds, digging in his pocket and pulling his phone out as I start walking toward the steps, my eyes still trailing the messy room for any sign of Mac’s translucent flesh or ginger red hair.

  I’m about to go up the stairs when I hear Mac’s “Get Low” ringtone play from behind the bar. I look back, brows furrowed in confusion as I see Carter with the phone to his ear, his own eyes narrowed on the cluttered bar top.

  “Left his phone here, maybe?” I speculate, walking toward the bar. “Or maybe he—” Reaching the other side, I stop in my tracks, frozen in horror.