“Really?”
“Well, my shows seem to be going into a dreadfully long hiatus season, so why not?”
Cappie returned to the KT house for the night. The house itself was quiet for a Tuesday, with a few brothers playing beer pong “to keep their skills up” but not much else. Even the pool table was empty, at least of players—Gonzo was sleeping on it. He was faceup, so his drool wouldn’t harm the table. That piece of furniture was getting increasingly hard to resuscitate after each semester, but they definitely couldn’t afford a new one. After the new flat screen, they could barely afford beer.
“Hey, Cappie!” Rusty caught him on the stairs up to the bedrooms. “Your phone was off.”
“Yeah, for like ten minutes. I would get fewer messages if the house was on fire, which, despite us having more fire hazards than the former Gamma Psi house, is still severely unlikely.” But there was no reason to go hard on Rusty, who was just being his enthusiastic self. Cappie couldn’t imagine a whole house of Rustys, but it was definitely good to have one around. “What have you got?”
“I polled the brothers I could find, but I had to rule out most of their suggestions. Like the Olympic swimming pool.”
“What about a smaller aboveground pool?”
“We don’t have the zoning for it and the upkeep is insane. We can’t even keep the sink clean.”
“On the other hand, an algae-covered pledge would make an excellent swamp monster.”
“Before he died of infection.”
“Before that, obviously. So, what if we upgraded the hot tub?”
“We have to justify building alterations with CRU’s Residential Life Office, and we’re still on probation over Officer Huck’s cart.”
“Okay.” Cappie sat down on the steps. “What else is impossible? Eliminate the impossible and you have only the possible.”
“I didn’t know you liked Sherlock Holmes.”
“House, Spitter. I’d think that show would be right up your alley. So what else?”
“Someone wanted to tunnel under CRU and have it end in a sorority shower. Got a few votes for that one before I took it off the list.”
“Which sorority?”
“Tri-Pi.”
Cappie rolled his eyes. “Huge surprise.”
“Beaver wanted to build a wind tunnel until I told him it doesn’t make you fly. Anthony Hopkins wanted to build a female robot.”
“Yeah, we all saw Weird Science. Is it worth it?”
“As long as all you want her to do is shuffle a couple of feet and repeat back preset phrases. And she’ll look more like a giant Lego set than a woman.”
“Pass. I always lost the small pieces in those sets. The really important ones.”
“And…a tire swing.”
“People seem to really want this tire swing. Maybe we should just do that anyway. Not as a main thing. Just for the sake of it. It can’t be that hard to get a tire and some rope.”
“It has to be a big tire, like a truck tire. Those can be expensive. You’d have to go to a dump and hope for the best. Anyway, there’s no guarantee that Beaver wouldn’t break it as he did the swing-a-ling.”
“So, wading through algae or wading through trash. Anything realistic?”
“I’m working on it. It depends on what kinda parts I can requisition. There are a couple of different…dozen…websites involved. And there are some budgetary limitations.” He looked up at Cappie. “But it’ll be cool. I promise.”
Cappie felt a little guilty dumping this on Rusty, as it was initially Cappie’s idea and his legacy. Rusty had plenty of time to help his pledges make their mark as KTs. “Sounds good. Do you need me for anything else tonight? Because I’m already late.”
“To what?”
“Do not question the master.” Sometimes dating his fraternity brother’s sister could be awkward, but it was always worth it.
Fortunately for Cappie and his finances, Casey was a cheap date, especially on a weekday. They settled for sitting on the KT roof, where an inflatable raft was perched to make stargazing a bit more comfortable.
“Sorry about before,” Casey said. “I got a little crazy with the questions. You’re not the only guy I could have asked about guy stuff.”
“Yeah, and I’m probably the last person who should be asked to get in the head of an Omega. Except if it’s using their pledge paddle and just aiming for the head.” Casey nudged him hard. “Excuse me for not being over the worst thing to happen to Kappa Tau. Possibly ever.”
“I know. But even if you don’t like them, I still have to impress them.”
“You mean Rebecca still has to impress them,” Cappie corrected. “This vote’s probably already locked up. So what? You barely get along with Rebecca.”
“We’ve been doing well…recently. This semester. Some of last semester. We don’t hate each other.”
“That’s good. Not hating each other. It’s a start.”
“I’m doing this whole thing for her. It’s not like I’m running for sweetheart. I wasn’t nominated. Besides, been there, done that. No repeats of Frannie for me.” She put her arm across his chest. “And besides, what do I care what Omega Chi thinks of me?”
“Thirty text messages says you care a lot.”
“Hey! Way to be unsupportive in my time of crisis!”
“Sorry, sorry,” he raced to say. “Go on.”
“I care about it for Rebecca and the house. Which, let’s be honest, really needs the boost.”
“So KT nominating ZBZ for awesomest house ever isn’t going to help? Because I can make it an executive order. Settle this right now.”
She smiled. “I’m not sure whether using the word awesomest would make it better or worse. And I do appreciate the offer, but on behalf of the house, I’m going to have to pass.”
“What if I just name you KT sweetheart? Does that count for anything? Because I can. If people are even awake to oppose me, I’ll just point out that you are the sweetest girl in ZBZ. They have crap for evidence against that.”
“You did date Rebecca.”
“And they hated her. She’s not getting our nomination in this mythical KT contest that we don’t have the energy to organize or go through respectfully.”
“But you would get free cookies. And muffins. Soooo many muffins.”
“Okay, what do we have to do? There’s a ceremony, right? Where are we going to give it? In front of the tire swing?”
“You have a tire swing?”
“Long story,” he said. “I want to be the helpful boyfriend, but Casey, I’m out of my element. And if this is as gooey and romantic as the name of the contest implies, I think Rebecca is out of her element, too. No offense, her being your Little Sister and all, but from what I know of Rebecca, she can’t stand any of this stuff.”
“She accepted the nomination.”
“With a bunch of guys singing to her, her boyfriend offering it and the whole house behind her? What was she supposed to do?”
“For a contest you’re not involved in, you sure know a lot about it.”
“Because you’ve told me every intimate detail!” He backed off when he saw the expression on her face. “Sorry, but you’ve been going a little nuts with this.”
“And now you’re going to ask for your space?”
“No. No, absolutely not.” He kissed her, and she hardly fought him. “But I will be very glad when this week is over.”
When he finally reached his apartment for the night, Rusty was anything but ready to settle down. He was too full of nerves over so many things, but mostly school and the new Vesuvius project, as he called it because he had no better name for it. It really needed a better name.
“How does Gruntmaster 6000 sound to you?” he said to his roommate, Dale, as he arrived from work.
“Like a stripped-down version of the Gruntmaster 9000, obviously,” Dale replied. “I saw the Dilbert TV show, too. Hey, do I smell like cocoa batter to you?” He held up his arm for inspection bu
t Rusty refused even to bend over for a polite sniff and pushed the arm away instead. “It’s not really a bad way to smell, but I would prefer the fresh-linen scent our store-brand detergent promised me despite the fifty-cent savings. And I don’t feel like doing laundry. Unless you want to do it.”
“You’re fine,” Rusty said, looking back at his laptop on the kitchen table. Their apartment was rather spacious and luxurious for something so close to campus, the result of Casey’s high standards when she temporarily felt the need to live away from ZBZ itself. It had worked out well when she ended up staying and the boys moved in, especially with Dale’s spick-and-span attitude toward cleaning. “You smell like store-brand deodorant. The way you always smell.”
“Good? Bad? Because I don’t want to put off the ladies, but…I want to put off the ladies at work. Without putting them off. I’m trying to create a healthy workplace environment.” He did not add, in a sorority where he made two dozen weight-obsessed girls food. “I want to smell neutral.”
“Nothing says neutral like Super Dollar Store deodorant. Which might explain my inability to have a long-term relationship where someone doesn’t go running.” One of Rusty’s longest relationships, which lasted most of one semester, was with ZBZ pledge Jordan. Everything had been perfect until she dropped out of school to move to New York and pursue a career in photography, something that didn’t happen so often in Rusty and Dale’s engineering program. It was heartbreaking for Rusty, and he could admit that his flirtation with Panhellenic President Katherine of Gamma Psi was at least partially fueled by loneliness. “Why are you so concerned? If someone liked you, they would have made a move by now. I wouldn’t categorize ZBZs as shrinking violets.”
Dale shrugged and sat down on the expensive couch that came with the apartment, well beyond what they could afford. They had really lucked out with Casey’s find. “I might have unavoidably listened in on a long discussion about pheromones and perfume.”
“So?”
“It was unusually intense. They seemed to be hatching a diabolical plan to influence certain men.”
“Oh, right, that Omega Chi sweetheart thing Casey’s obsessing over. That might not be a good atmosphere for you.”
“It’s normally fine, but it’s like they’re putting the poor woman up for auction to the highest Omega bidder. It’s not very progressive. Or is it progressive because they’re aware they’re doing it and not being progressive? They’re choosing to be demeaning and all that?”
“Dale, my one liberal arts class last semester was art history, and I mainly used it to hang out with my girlfriend. I’m not the best authority on feminism.”
Dale nodded. “Right. Totally a question for Cappie.”
“Or Jesus. At least you know his stance on reformed prostitutes.” Rusty threw his hands up at Dale’s sneer of indignation. “Come on, that one was fair. You were wide open for that one. And it speaks well of Jesus.”
“Are you implying there’s something that doesn’t speak well of our Lord and Savior?”
Rusty squirmed. “The…um, money changers might have another opinion. Don’t paint me into a corner with this one.”
“I’m just saying, you bring the J-Man into this and you had better come to play.”
“I’m sorry.” Rusty backtracked. “I won’t. Sorry, I’m just really stressed out right now.”
“Oh, is something bothering the Gary Wyatt grant winner?”
“Dale.”
“Sorry, I said I wouldn’t do that.” But since Dale was passed over for Rusty for the award, and the generous grant it came with, there was still an air of competition in the apartment that had never fully dissolved. “What’s the problem, champ?”
“It’s a house thing. Well, a techie house thing that was partially my idea, so I shouldn’t be complaining. Remember Vesuvius?”
“The plastic volcano that spouted beer?”
“Actually it was mostly foam and papier-mâché, but yeah.”
“And it met a horrible death at the hands of drunk engineering students, me being one of them.”
“That, too.” And the KT house would never rent their facilities to people with such poor tolerances for alcohol again. “I’m supposed to top it.”
“You do have a thing lately for topping things. And people. Because I am not a thing.”
“Dale, seriously. That was not about topping you. We both submitted our work and a totally objective outside party judged it.”
Dale huffed, still not ready to accept it. “So don’t you have indentured servants to do this thing for you? I think you call them pledges.”
“This isn’t really about the pledges. They have to make their own contribution. This is about KT without Vesuvius. And Cappie.”
“You’re going to replace Cappie with another volcano? Because surely I’m not the only one to see that as a lousy and demeaning comparison.”
“No, it was Cappie’s idea,” Rusty said. “Something about his gift to Kappa Tau’s future.”
“Future? Cappie’s kind of a live-for-the-moment guy. He just wrote an essay about it for the Cappie Monthly newsletter.”
“Yeah, well, some things are not easy to express. Or fit into a monthly newsletter that I, for some reason, am still on the mailing list for. I think it may have more to do with boosting Kappa Tau morale after Wade and Ferret got expelled. So he wants to build something.”
“But you have to do the grunt work.”
“I think I tricked myself into offering. I’m not really sure. KT should have something to be proud of beyond a tire swing, and we don’t even have that, yet.”
“Good. They’re always full of bees. Or mosquitoes. You have to pour the water out every other day in the summer,” Dale said knowingly. He was from the South. “Plus, where would you swing? Into the patio furniture?”
“Exactly. So I have to come up with something else. Or Cappie has to come up with something else. Someone has to come up with something. And not just something you buy, either. Because anyone could buy stuff. Especially richer houses where people actually pay their dues and that can afford to host gatherings to name some arbitrary girl sweetheart.”
“She’s not that arbitrary. She’s usually sleeping with the house president,” Dale said, retrieving a juice box from the fridge. “And they make it up in muffins. With cocoa in them.” Dale’s straw made a sucking noise that made it seem as if he was twelve. “So what’s up, genius inventor? Regenerating wires not good enough for Kappa Tau? I will shamelessly admit it is impressive to watch if you understand it.”
“Yeah, I don’t think I have to explain why that’s not impressive to them.” Rusty closed his laptop. “I can’t think about this anymore.”
“Then I have a very awesome distraction,” Dale said and retrieved the box Rusty had found on their mail stoop but promptly ignored after bringing it in, as it was addressed to Dale. “Behold.” Despite his mighty proclamation, it actually took a few minutes and some scissors to undo all the packing tape. Dale finally retrieved the brightly colored box inside. It was yellow, with figures in blue and red for contrast, and black-and-white pictures of overexcited kids with their toys—Rock’em Sock’em Robots, two plastic, hand-controlled robots in red and blue that punched each other in the face.
“The original fighting robots,” Rusty said, though he was really reading off the bold-lettered advertisement on the box. “Where did you get these? Why did you get these?”
“eBay is the answer to both of your questions,” Dale pronounced and opened the box. “Some offers even I can’t resist. And I am experienced at resisting temptation…most of the time.” He squirmed. “Shall we?”
It didn’t take long for two engineers to assemble plastic robots meant to be assembled by kids—or their parents—on Christmas morning, and within five minutes they had the whole ring set up and the robots going at it, Dale’s robot repeatedly bashing Rusty’s robot’s head in, or out, as it would pop up when it was hit.
“That’s it
!” Rusty yelled.
“What?”
“The project.” He called the match in Dale’s favor. Dale was clearly more aggressive anyway. “Imagine this. But life-sized.”
“That sounds very breakable. Unless you’re picturing guys in it. Then it’s just sumo wrestling. You can rent those suits.”
“This thing isn’t that complicated. It just takes a lot of plastic—and I’m a polymer scientist. It’s not even electric. If we do it to scale, it would work.”
“Am I getting roped into this?”
Rusty’s grin was triumphant. “Whenever you feel you’ve baked enough muffins for one lifetime, let me know.”
chapter five
On Wednesday morning, Casey was woken not by the gentle sounds of birds outside her window (not that they had ever woken her) or her more irritating and thrice-near-destroyed alarm clock, but by the sounds of eager pledges and ZBZ sisters and one particularly shrill Little Sister. That was…odd, until she looked at the time and realized it was ten in the morning. Less odd, perhaps, but still annoying and making her regret not staying over at Kappa Tau with Cappie. She groaned and put a pillow over her head.
“No! You don’t get to escape this,” Rebecca shouted, her voice only a bit calmer than the shrieking downstairs. Or maybe the acoustics just made the sounds worse than they already were. “This is your doing!”
Casey lifted the pillow off her face. “Aside from possibly suffocating me with my pillow, what are you doing in here?”
“You’re Miss Campaign Manager, and these women are driving me crazy! Did you tell Abby to follow me?”
“I believe the term is shadow, and no, I didn’t.”
Greek: Best Frenemies Page 4