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“What is it?” I said, sensing that something serious was underfoot. “What’s going on?”
Neither seemed eager to answer me.
“Bishop? Tell me what’s going on.”
“It’s about the ball,” he said.
“What about it?”
“Rumor has it that there might not be one,” Deacon finally said.
“That’s not true,” I argued. “I’ve heard everyone talking about it.”
“And did you hear that Rector’s family has pulled out?” Deacon said. “They are one of the biggest patrons, if notthebiggest of SAU. This Winter Ball is a really big deal in raising funds and donations to the school.”
“SAU was hoping to secure some huge funds,” Bishop added.
“Funds that they lost.” Deacon stood and walked a few paces away. “This sucks. This fucking sucks.” He slapped the back of the love seat and stormed off.
“Sorry about that,” Bishop said.
“Don’t apologize for him,” I said. “I understand that he’s upset.”
“It really does suck. This is such a big deal.”
“So I’ve heard. Fancy dinner… black tie… fund raising.”
Biting his bottom lip, Bishop looked at me.
“What’s going on in that devious little head of yours, dear Bishop.”
He grinned. “I think that I might just have an idea… something to raise morale for our fraternity.”
“Oh?”
“And if we play our cards right, this might just get us into the dean’s good graces.”
“What will get us into the dean’s good graces?” Deacon said as he came back to the living room with a cup of coffee in his hand.
Bishop looked up at him. “I think that we should offer to volunteer… volunteer the entire fraternity to organize and completely take charge of this year’s Winter Alumni Ball.”
Deacon sat down with an indignant huff. “Are you nuts? The dean will never go for that. We’re on probation, remember?”
“Do you have a better idea?” Bishop shot at him with a cocked brow.
Deacon shrugged.
“We have nothing to lose,” I said. “It’s worth a try.”
We all looked at one another.
Finally, Deacon nodded. “Fine. Let’s go.”
After changing into jeans and a pretty pink blouse, I joined the guys out on the front porch, and we headed to the administrative building.
“Let me do the talking,” Deacon said as we entered the building.
“It’s my idea,” Bishop argued. “I should do the talking.”
