Sigma Eta

Show Me Your Face

The house was set up with a simple blueprint, with the larger bedrooms on top (four in all, one with its own private bathroom and patio for the president), a handful of smaller bedrooms on the second story, and the living spaces on the first floor. All were connected with a long and elegant staircase, one of the older and more respectable constructions of the house. The staircase was lined with a very old, very worn red carpet fastened to the wood with golden pegs and it turned twice before getting to any landing, making it rather difficult to slide down the banister if you were sober. The staircase only failed to link the top most floors to the basement, which was where most of the parties occurred. That could only be accessed by a small wooden door in the kitchen, one that led to the most deteriorated and uncomfortable part of the house. During the week the basement remained unoccupied, and to be quite honest John had always found the place rather haunting. Inside it had been constructed with a bar and a dance floor, though when the music wasn't playing and the lights weren't flashing he found the shadows to be terrifying. It was a still, dank place, with plaster walls built around all of the more important pieces of infrastructure so as to keep any party goers' elbows from damaging the water heater or the gas stove. No one went down there on their own accord unless it was truly necessary, though the maintenance men of the college were the ones who frequented it the most. Due to the house's age it was no surprise that the appliances didn't always work. Often there was water on the floor or a foul odor in the air, and more than once the boys all had to be corralled outside for fear of some deadly explosion happening in the concrete depths of the house. Thankfully the basement was none of John's concern at the present moment, for as soon as he arrived in the living room he was met with a majority of familiar faces, all messing around as Sebastian Moran tried to organize everyone into their seats. The living room was the widest of all rooms on the second floor, with a small entry way separating it from the kitchen on the other side. Here the boys settled to do their homework or to socialize, oftentimes enjoying the radio or a game of cards on the carpets. By rule there was no television, for the presidents of long ago found that television drained most social skills from the boys, as well as deterred attention to their academics. It was an appropriate rule for sure, and John didn't necessarily miss it. Tonight, all of the furniture had been set up so as to look towards a single chair, presumably the one Sebastian had set aside for himself, and to compliment some of the more comfortable couches there were also some metal folding chairs set up for the boys at the bottom of the pecking order. Without being instructed John and Greg sat themselves on these, figuring if they dared to sit on the couches one of the senior boys would give them the first punishment of the fall semester. There were about twenty boys who lived in the house, all of which were juniors and seniors of the Sigma Eta fraternity. Each one of them was different in their own way, though upon appearances they seemed to have all been cut from the same mold. Each boy was fairly tall and athletic, all with a look of youthful mischief in their face. And of course in times like this each one was messing around, harassing their closest friends with a good heart or messing with their least favorites with an intentional spite. The room was loud and chaotic, with limbs flying this way and that and pushes being dealt, kicks being received, and orders being shouted from their already exasperated president. It was the just the sort of atmosphere John had most missed, the sort of excitement that his summer had been severely lacking. At last Sebastian regained the attention of the room, though he had to stand up on his chair and shriek for the entire room to quiet. It was a heinous sound,w to which Greg chuckled and John cringed, though at last order had been called and each one of the boys looked up anxiously towards their president.
"Boys, you're all off to a very bad start." Sebastian declared, hopping down from his chair before seating himself rather daintily.
"You sound like my professors." came a snarky little voice from the crowd, one that John couldn't yet recognize.
"I'm not that, Clay. I'm worse than that." Sebastian reminded them, to which John had to hide his smile behind his hand. Of course he took Sebastian's threats seriously, for he was one of the only ones in the house who could inflict punishments on everyone below him. Then again his enthusiasm with the role, particularly in his dedication to evoke fear, was almost laughable so early in the semester. Nevertheless the boys paid attention as best as they could, for no one wanted to be the first to step out of line. That was always the one who was the example; the first punishment was always the worst.
"I called you all here tonight to go over ground rules, and to tell you what to expect from this house for the rest of the year. Primarily, we have three main rules. For those who are just moving in for the first time, you may not be aware. Rule number one, Tobias, could you please enlighten us?" Sebastian suggested. Tobias Gregson, one of the seniors who had the honor of living in his own room upstairs, stirred from his spot on the couch. Nevertheless he stood, as if this was some sort of formal speech.
"Rule number one, no drugs." He announced, looking around towards the wandering eyes of the junior class.
"Very good. No drugs. You boys may like to party, but there are plenty of other ways to enjoy your night. Drugs are not only expensive, but they're dangerous, and they're entirely illegal. If we get caught with anything, even marijuana, we could get shut down." Sebastian warned. "Anderson, can you tell us rule number two?" A rather stuffy looking boy stood up, with a strange mop of brown hair arranged atop of his head. John didn't recognize him, though he knew the name from his initiation process.
"Clean up after yourself." He announced in a monotone voice, with a pitch as if he was holding his nose throughout his short statement.
"Indeed. When our pledging class comes around they'll be doing most of the heavy work, but until then we'll rely on our faithful junior class to clean up the bathrooms and the kitchen. However, every one of us is responsible for keeping this place in order. That means picking up after yourself, putting things where they belong, and most importantly, most importantly, doing your own dishes. If I find a single spoon that hasn't been washed I'll make all of you do laps outside the house naked." Sebastian promised, his eyes narrowing so as to make sure his point was received with perfect clarity. John felt a little bit uneasy with this rule, considering that he was never one for doing his own dishes. There were some advantages of having an overprotective mother, and because of her habit of pampering him dish washing was a skill he had never quite perfected.
"The last rule, Bradstreet if you will." Sebastian instructed, beckoning to one of the larger men in the crowd. John recognized him from the football team, though they had never yet exchanged words. Bradstreet didn't stand, instead he bellowed out the final rule from his squishy armchair.
"Don't be an a**hole!" he exclaimed, to which the boys all gave a couple of shouts of agreement and excitement.
"That one is open to interpretation for those in power, and most all of your crimes can fall under that category. Mind the rules, boys." Sebastian warned, nodding his head towards Bradstreet who was smiling in a very satisfied way. Perhaps he liked to feel included. The rest of the meeting included rather boring introductions, a sort of game of Sebastian's own creation where the boys had to recite each other boy's name before they could introduce themselves. By the end of the night John had at least been able to recognize each one of his brothers, though as soon as they left this memorized order he wasn't sure he could place a name to each. All of the boys seemed relatively laid back, and John could tell that this semester was becoming ever the more promising. There was excitement in the air, pungent as any sweet smell. Each one of these boys was electrically charged with their own enthusiasm, and even if John couldn't quite place their names to their faces he knew that they were related now, not by blood but instead by letters. It was a curious brotherhood, though one that seemed to be preferable to his actual family all the same. Each boy retreated back towards their bedrooms as soon as the meeting was dismissed, and slowly each light was extinguished from the individual windows, the very windows which Victor now studied carefully within the photograph.