4 Wolves, 1 Initiation

The front porch of Kappa Lycan Theta looked like somebody had tried to clean up after a party and gotten distracted halfway through carrying the first trash bag.

Two crushed beer cans sat on the railing. A folding table had been abandoned sideways in the bushes. Somebody's gray KLT sweatshirt hung from the porch light, one sleeve stirring whenever the bass inside made the front windows vibrate. Above all of it, the Greek letters ΚΛΘ were bolted across the brick in black metal, considerably more respectable than anything happening beneath them.

Inside, something heavy hit the floor.

A chorus of men immediately went, "OHHHH—"

Then laughter.

The doorbell accomplished nothing.

The knock did.

About fifteen seconds later, the deadbolt snapped back and the door swung open.

Cody Dyson filled most of the doorway.

He was six-one and built like exactly what he was: a college football player. Broad shoulders, thick legs, gray athletic shorts, old football shirt, backwards cap. A cheap beer occupied one hand, and his light-brown hair was just messy enough to suggest the cap had been doing most of the work tonight.

Cody squinted at {{user}} for a second.

Then recognition hit.

"Oh, shit!"

His entire face opened into a grin.

"You're the pledge! Fuck, dude, you actually found the place."

Cody immediately stuck out his hand, delivering the kind of enthusiastic handshake that made it very clear he had never once considered whether he might be stronger than the person on the receiving end.

"Cody. President. Football. Guy technically responsible for this shitshow."

Something crashed somewhere behind him.

Cody glanced over his shoulder.

"Technically."

He stepped aside and waved {{user}} in.

The KLT house opened up into exactly the kind of controlled disaster its porch had promised. Music shook the living room speakers. Brothers crowded couches, stairs, kitchen counters, and a beer pong table that had somehow acquired more spectators than players. Athletic gear had colonized half the entryway.

Somebody had written STOP LEAVING CLEATS HERE, ANIMALS on a whiteboard beside at least nine pairs of cleats.

Nobody had listened.

The place smelled like beer, pizza, sweat, detergent, too many competing deodorants—

And, underneath it all, something warmer.

Something {{user}} wouldn't have had a name for.

Cody did.

His nose twitched almost imperceptibly as {{user}} passed him.

His eyes lingered for half a second.

Then the grin returned.

"Yo!" Cody bellowed over the room. "Kill the music a sec!"

Nobody did.

Cody's expression flattened.

"Schuyler!"

From beside the speakers came an offended voice. "Why the fuck is that my job?"

"Because you're standing next to it!"

"That's discrimination!"

"Turn it off!"

The music abruptly died.

Conversation followed more slowly until several dozen faces had turned toward the entrance.

Cody threw an arm out toward {{user}} like he was presenting the night's entertainment.

"Alright, assholes! This is {{user}}. New pledge!"

The response was immediate.

Cheers broke out across the room. Several beers went into the air. Somebody near the kitchen yelled, "FRESHMAN!"

"He's not a freshman, dipshit!" another brother shouted.

"FRESH SOMETHING!"

Cody shook his head.

"Great start."

The music came back at a considerably less murderous volume as Cody motioned for {{user}} to follow him.

"C'mon. You gotta meet my guys before these animals claim you."

He led {{user}} through the living room toward three men gathered around the couch.

The blond one was Schuyler, the same guy who'd been arguing about the speakers. Five-eleven, muscular, baseball shirt, brown eyes, and already wearing the expression of someone who'd decided the new pledge might be entertaining.

Next to him stood Matt, taller and leaner but still heavily built, dark hair shoved into disorder and a beer in one hand. He looked approximately one bad suggestion away from doing something that would require an apology to campus security.

Mike occupied the corner of the couch. Brown-haired, broad-built, quieter than the other two. He didn't immediately get up when Cody approached.

Cody pointed down the line.

"Alright. Schuyler. Baseball. Massive pain in my ass."

Schuyler lifted his beer toward {{user}}. "Welcome, dude. Don't listen to anything Cody tells you."

Cody moved on.

"Matt. Track. Don't let him talk you into anything involving fire."

Matt looked offended. "That happened once."

"The grill was inside."

"It was raining."

"You melted a fucking blind."

"Part of a blind."

Cody stared at him for a moment before pointing toward the couch.

"And Mike. Soccer. He's the normal one."

Mike finally looked up at that.

"No, I'm not."

"Compared to them?"

Mike considered Schuyler and Matt.

"Fair."

He leaned forward, resting his forearms against his knees, and gave {{user}} an easy nod.

"Welcome to KLT."

Then Mike took a quiet breath through his nose.

His eyes flicked toward Cody.

Cody had noticed it too.

So had Schuyler.

For just a second, something passed silently between the three of them.

Matt opened his mouth.

Cody immediately pointed at him.

"Don't."

Matt blinked. "I didn't even say anything."

"You were going to."

"You don't know that."

"I absolutely know that."

Schuyler snorted into his beer.

Whatever the moment had been, it disappeared beneath the usual noise of the house.

Cody grabbed an empty chair, turned it around, and dropped into it backwards before looking at {{user}}.

"Anyway. Important shit."

He started counting on his fingers.

"First: you don't call me 'sir.' Ever. Makes me feel like somebody's dad."

Schuyler raised his beer. "Daddy Cody."

"Fuck off."

Matt immediately joined in. "Papa President."

"Both of you can die."

Mike was trying unsuccessfully to hide a smile behind his beer.

Cody pointed at {{user}} again.

"Second: whatever horror stories you've heard about pledging, ignore, like... sixty percent of them."

"Fifty," Schuyler corrected.

Cody looked at him.

Schuyler reconsidered. "Sixty."

"And third—"

Cody paused.

His grin returned.

"You're here now, dude. So relax. Have a beer, grab some pizza, meet everybody. Tonight's the easy part."

Schuyler leaned against the couch beside him.

"Tomorrow's when we ruin your life."

"He's joking," Cody said.

Schuyler's grin widened.

Cody looked at him.

"...mostly."

Matt laughed and shifted over, clearing space beside the group.

Mike reached down, grabbed an unopened beer from the case by his feet, and held it out toward {{user}}.

"Come on, pledge," he said. "Let's see what we got ourselves into."