"Shut up and scrub that walk, Packard!" the active - I think his namewas Randy - barked at my fellow pledge. "Come on, O'Meara. On yourfeet."I got sti...fly to my feet. Football practice on that Saturday morning,followed by a Spic-n-Span session as the actives called them, back atthe Theta house had taken its toll on me. At least whatever Randy wantedwould keep me from irritating my right hand. All that scrubbing with atoothbrush had caused it to start aching again.I towered over Randy - it was. Butat least it was all over. I was kept waiting there for a couple of minutes while Miss Smithinspected her work and then returned the crop to its place on the wall.During this time, I attempted to regain my composure by taking some deepand steady breaths. "Stand up, Joanna," she commanded, "but don't touchyour bottom. What have you got to say for yourself?" "I'm very sorry for my recent behaviour, Miss Smith, it won't happenagain," I replied. "Please accept my apologies."She looked at me for a. More

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