Story #122 - Fitting In

Fitting In

I'd never found the Diggers' clubroom particularly attractive, but I wasn't there to pass judgment; quite the opposite, in fact.

Blessed with a father who had been in the club along with robust genes and a predisposition toward athletics, I'd been an ideal choice for the group when I'd hit campus the year before. The Diggers had to shy away from calling themselves a “frat” after the organizations had been banned due to excessive hazing practices, and though they had a reputable on-campus presence, what happened just outside the borders of the school grounds and in secret was an entirely different matter.

“Initiate L!” Tank's voice called across the room and I stepped forward. Jeremy Linas was my real name, and they thought themselves incredibly clever for devising such a nickname for me. To be honest about it, I didn't really have much interest in the Diggers as a whole, but they would vastly improve my chances for a sweet employment deal once I left school, so I was willing to put up with a certain amount of bullshit.

“Kneel!” Tank bellowed, and smacked me in the ass with a paddle when I didn't do it quickly enough.

A certain amount of bullshit – but I had limits.

“So, you think you're ready for the final test, L?” That was Mike the Bike talking, the leader of the Diggers and, judging by his appearance, a normal, healthy guy.

Unfortunately, this was one of those “don't judge a book by its cover” moments, as Mike had picked up his nickname for two reasons: he ran over those who got in his way, and he was notoriously unstable. He'd led the Diggers since they went underground, and while they had prospered under him, it had been at the cost of a number of former members, some of whom had walked away with lifelong scars – not all emotional, either.

“Yes,” I said simply. Not point in being grandiose about it or beating around the bush. I'd done as Mike had asked, and I was ready to be done with the whole mess. Thinking about it made me uncomfortable, but I'd known when I signed on that there would be sacrifices I'd have to make.

“Alright, L. Two days. You know the spot.” Mike smiled; a cruel thing on an otherwise handsome face. He could give off all of the perfectly average junior college vibes, but could also turn on the crazy whenever he felt like it. I just wanted in, wanted to finish two more years, and then get the hell out.

“Yeah.”

***

I'd befriended Linden Sark the first week the skinny kid was on campus. From a small town down south and way out of his depth in a school of over ten thousand, he'd needed a helping hand to make sure he didn't go off the deep end before the finish of the first semester. Bookish and shy, Linden didn't make friends easily but I was determined to win his trust, and within a month I knew just about everything I needed to about him. He knew a fair bit about me as well – there was no point in lying.

He knew, for example, that I was “trying out” for the Diggers, since no one was allowed to use the term “pledging”, and he knew that my dad had been a member.

What he didn't know was that he was part of my initiation, and that getting his ass kicked in the quad was going to be final thing I had to do before they'd open the doors wide.

The two days the Diggers had given me had gone quickly, and I found my stomach churning as I looked across the table at Linden. Everyone else in the cafeteria gave us a wide berth, though my friend didn't notice – he was face-down in his book, as always.

“How about we eat outside today, Linden?” I said, and he looked up. I waited a minute for my question to process, and then he nodded. He'd agree to just about anything I said. Damn, but I felt guilty - just not guilty enough not to lead him outside and sit him down under a tree, then pace around while I waited for Mike, Tank and the others to show up.

Linden, usually dense about these kinds of things, noticed.

“What's wrong, Jeremy? You tense?”

I glanced over my shoulder at the east quad entrance, and caught sight of Tank's massive shoulders. They were coming.

“Yeah,” I said, kneeling down beside Linden. He might as well know. “The Diggers are coming here, today, to let me into the club,” Linden's face brightened, “but -” I went on, “my final test is to kick your ass, make you feel like a fool for ever trusting me.”

The kid's face fell, and I waited for the tears to follow, but he just put his head against the tree and smiled. “I figured. A guy like me doesn't get a friend like you without a reason. Just be gentle, OK? These glasses are expensive. And for what it's worth, it's been fun.”

Mike was let than a hundred yards away; I had to get this going if I was ever going to do it. Someone had to get their ass kicked.

“Stand up,” I said tersely, and Linden obeyed. Dashing forward, I grabbed his right arm and pulled it up to my face, then went down in a heap toward the tree, screaming.

“Jeremy!” Linden knelt down. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing!” I hissed. “You're kicking my ass – it'll get you what you want!” He'd tried to pretend like it didn't matter, but I knew he wanted in with the Diggers.

“What? No!”

“Yes,” I said, looking up at him, “hit me, Linden. Hit me in the face. Mike's ten yards behind you. He'll see it, I promise.”

There was a hesitation there, a momentary struggle, but the kid did the right thing. Surprisingly, he hit pretty damn hard.

***

I didn't get in, of course, and Linden managed to squeak by thanks to the credit kicking my ass got him. We don't talk anymore, but I see him around campus, usually near Tank or Mike. I'm happier for not being a member, and at least Linden got what he wanted.

He's changing, though – becoming more like them - and I have to wonder.

Did I really do him a favor?

- D