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him.
    â€œYeah. No shit.”
    â€œWhat about the coin flip?”
    Adams smiled. “Bookie gave the guys in the other room 2-1 odds that we’d convince you to quit before telling you that you made it.”
    â€œWell, he lost,” I said, feeling the world’s biggest smile on my face.
    Christianson held a green pledge pin and pinned it over my heart onto my blue Diesel shirt.
    It was a totally new feeling to be wanted and accepted by any group. I didn’t know how to react. I never had any close friends before. The only other organization I ever belonged to was the Little League before I got thrown out for smoking dope in the dugout.
    â€œSome pledge ground rules now,” Christianson said in a friendly voice that he must’ve saved in the past for other people. “You know that a pledge is just a probationary member?” he asked.
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œAnd the duties of a pledge are to follow the orders of the active members called actives?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œYou know, you’re a special problem because of your age. You said you were twenty-six. You know you’ll be taking a lot of shit from guys much younger. You understand that?”
    â€œYeah.” But anything would be easier than Marine boot camp. “But,” I continued, “on the other hand, my maturity and judgment will add a lot to the pledge class.”
    Adams nodded to Christianson. “He’s probably right.”
    Christianson continued, “Now pledging lasts the entire semester. Until mid-January. About four months away. And the last week of pledging is called Hell Week. If you last that long, if you don’t quit or get thrown out first—and then if you survive the cutoff vote of The Rule of Eleven—you’ll be voted into the fraternity as a full active member.”
    â€œYou understand?”
    I nodded. “Yeah.”
    â€œDo you know what The Rule of Eleven is?”
    â€œNo.”
    Instantly, his face lost its friendliness. “It means of the twenty guys who are now pledges—no matter what—no more than eleven pledges can be made actives.”
    I was silent as I fully digested this for the first time.
    â€œRemember, sometimes less than eleven guys get voted in as actives. But never more than eleven.” He paused and looked at me. “You understand?”
    I nodded. “Yeah.”
    â€œTell him the other thing,” Adams said.
    â€œYeah.” Christianson continued, with the sternest look yet. “You know Bookie doesn’t think much of you.”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œExcept maybe your slight-of-hand trick with the coin.”
    I didn’t answer. I was trying too hard not to smile.
    â€œBut the other guys who blackballed you don’t like you at all.”
    â€œYou know why?” Adams asked.
    â€œNo.”
    â€œI can’t tell you who they are, but both guys are Jewish even though they don’t look it or act it.”
    â€œSo?”
    â€œThey said that all during Rush Week they overheard you making anti-Semitic comments, calling people kikes and yids.”
    The eyes of both guys riveted into mine.
    â€œThey’re wrong,” I lied.
    â€œBut if they’re right, it hardly follows our goal of promoting fellowship, does it?”
    â€œNo. But I never made those comments.”
    â€œWell, we’re warning you to be careful. Even if Bookie votes you in as an active, if both the other two guys blackball you, you’re out. Two blackballs and a pledge is gone. Pledges only have a margin of one blackball. Understand?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œLast thing. You’re taking at least twelve units, aren’t you?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œWhat classes you taking?”
    â€œMan and Civilization, Sociology, English, and Economics.”
    â€œGood. That’s a requirement from National. Nobody can get sworn in unless they’re carrying at least twelve units with a