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was a light, clattering sound. Pebbles. Followed by the sound of giggles. She walked toward the window and opened it. “What’s going on?” she asked, slightly annoyed.
    A group of hooded strangers stood underneath her window. In an ominous voice, the tallest one intoned darkly, “Allegra Van Alen, your future awaits you.”
    Oh, right. She had forgotten, although Birdie had warned her the other week. It was Tap Night. The night that Endicott’s most prestigious secret society, the Peithologians, inducted its new members. She noticed her roommate’s bed was empty, which meant Birdie was already participating in the night’s festivities since she was of course a member.
    Allegra called, “I’ll be right down,” just as another group of hooded students entered her room and put a hood over her head. She was now officially kidnapped.

    When her hood was removed, Allegra noticed she was in a clearing in the woods. There was a bonfire raging, and she was kneeling with a group of new initiates.
    The hooded leader offered her a golden chalice, filled with a reddish libation. “Drink from the cup of knowledge,” he directed. Their fingers brushed as he handed her the goblet, and Allegra tried not to giggle as she took a sip. Vodka and 7-Up. Not bad.
    “You look silly in that robe,” she whispered, for she had recognized his voice the moment he had called her from her window.
    “Shhh!” Bendix replied, trying not to laugh as well.
    She passed the goblet to the person next to her, wondering who else had been chosen. When all the new members had drunk from the cup, Bendix raised a toast with the glass. “They have consumed the fire of Enlightenment! Welcome to the Peithologians, new Poets and Adventurers! Let us now dance in the woods like the nymphs of Bacchus!” Somewhere in the back, someone banged a gong, and it echoed through the forest.
    “The nymphs of Bacchus?” she asked skeptically.
    “It’s a Greek thing….” He shrugged. The members had removed their hoods, although most were still wearing their robes. More plastic goblets filled with vodka and 7-Up were passed around the group.
    “Is this what happens when you become a Peithologian?” Allegra asked, looking around at the merry, drunken crew. “You cut curfew and dance around a fire?”
    “Don’t forget the cheap cocktails. Very important,” Ben-dix said, nodding.
    “This is it? This is what all the fuss is about?” She laughed. The Peithologians had a stellar, jealously guarded reputation at school.
    “Pretty much. Oh, and every quarter we have a formal. One is clothing-optional, of course.”
    “Of course.”
    “And later we’ll have the annual Bad Poetry Contest.”
    “So it’s mostly just…silliness?” Allegra asked, although she already knew the answer.
    “Why? What do you guys do that’s so important in that Committee of yours?”
    He knew she was in the Committee. Of course they had one at Endicott, since the school had a sizable group of Blue Blood students. She looked around at the new recruits and felt disappointed not to find her brother among the flushed faces. She knew Charlie would never have been picked, but she felt bad all the same. The Peithologians were one of the reasons her twin hated the school so much. At Endicott, no one thought much of the Committee. Everyone wanted to be part of the Peithologians.
    “We do the same things….” Allegra shrugged.
    “Yeah, I thought so. Someone should really bring back some old-school stuff. You know. Coffins. Murder. The peddling of influence.” He wagged his eyebrows and took a big sip from his oversized goblet. “Oh, here comes Texas. Forsyth. A word! Excuse me,” he told her. Bendix walked over to speak to Forsyth Llewellyn, who served as faculty adviser to the society.
    Allegra raised her glass to Forsyth, who gave her a courtly nod of his head. He taught freshman English, and she’d seen him around campus. She remembered him, of course. She would never forget those