". We dine here in Camelot, we eat ham and jam and spamalot We're knights of the round table, our shows are for-mid-able Though many times, we're given rhymes, that are un-sing-able We're not so bad in Camelot, we sing from the Dia-phragm-a lot! . Between our quests, we seek incest and impersonate Clark Gable It's a busy life in Camelot." "Knights of the Round Table" Monty Python and the Quest for the Holy Grail

"Y gog dow ner?" Reese took off his headphones. He knew they probably made him look stupid- big and bulky, the kind a DJ would wear, held together by duct tape and masking tape. But they got great sound quality though they hadn't held up too well to lots of late night flights and car rides, slammed doors and fights, bouncing his head against hard seats, and sinking into soft pillows when turbulence was experienced.

"What?"

"Are you going to dinner?" asked Dylan again. He motioned to the hallway, standing in the doorway.

"Uh, yeah. Mind waiting a moment?" Reese rolled off the bed, shutting off his CD player, and making sure to remove his head phones- he didn't feel like introducing Dylan to his klutzy side just yet. That would eventually come out. Reese's brain revolved around the term 'come out' for a moment. Term reminded him of one who had been incarcerated or quarantined for a long time, the way the smell of fresh earth and pollution must make them feel when they breath free air. Or being diagnosed with cancer, that lump you ignored. Mainly cancer. Shaking his head he walked to the door, locking it with his key, then putting the regulation given lanyard back into his pocket.

He walked next to Dylan, fairly silent. "Hey!" came another voice and they tuned, in synch. "You guys going to dinner?" asked another teenaged boy, coming out of his own room, brown hair buzzed, slightly shorter than Reese- about Izzy's height he decided.

"Yea," said Dylan. "You too?"

"Would if I knew where it was."

"I can show you," said Reese, as the guy came closer. "I went here last year. You didn't?"

"No- Lancaster. Pennsylvania. What class are you guys in? Oh, I'm Pieter," said the boy, pronouncing it like 'Peter'. "I have a tendency to get ahead of myself easily. But I'm in Photography."

"Reese," said Reese. "I took that class last year- if the instructor stayed the same then you're lucky- he's really cool. Maddox?"

"Yeah, I think that's it."

"I'm Dylan," said Dylan. "Taking Critiquing Pop Culture. Good thing Reese knows where the dinning hall is, cause I don't have a clue. I was at Princeton last year, and the year before that. So where are you from? Pennsylvania?"

"New Jersey, but my parents want to move up here so I was sent to scout it out. See if they have decent mini-marts and stuff."

"I'm from Jersey too- what exit?"

"Route 17 North or Parkway?"

"Route 17. I'm 163."

"131." They both noticed at the same time Reese was staring at them with a confused expression on his face.

"What?" he spit out as they pushed through the main entrance door and walked onto the porch, down the stairs and onto the Quad.

"Jersey thing- distinguish oneself by exit numbers," said Dylan, sounding apologetic.

"And people wonder why there are so many Jersey jokes."

"Hey, hey, don't knock it unless you have a joke I haven't heard before," said Pieter, as they entered the dining hall, showing their meal pass cards.

"Sadly, jokes were never my forte. Now sarcasm is an entirely different matter."

"Thank god you're sarcastic," said Dylan. "Every year I get a roommate whose only source of humor seems to be in prat falls."

"I know the type," said Pieter. "You just described the vast majority of my family. Come around some time and peruse our collection of 3 Stooges videos."

"Sounds like fun," said Reese, deadpan; going to stand in front of the crates of cereal, bowl in hand. "I'm gonna go check out the cereal if you guys want to grab a table or something."

"Actually, I think I'll just pull the baby duckling thing and stick to you cause I'm a-scared," said Dylan. Reese laughed and shook his head as Pieter threw himself onto the ground, clutching Reese's leg.

"Don't cause a scene now. C'mon- I'll show you where the good food lines are," said Reese, shaking Pieter off his leg and walking to the nearest line, Line 3.

"Sure thing Moma Duck," said Dylan as Pieter quacked, as they joined the end of the line.

"Stop it."

"OK, Moma Duck," said Pieter.

"Don't make me throw this bowl of byproducts at you."

"Willing to feed us your own food too? You really are a momma duck!" Dylan exclaimed in a tone of wonder, ignoring the strange looks they were getting. Reese picked up a marshmallow piece and pantomimed throwing it at Dylan's head. Dylan, in response, opened his mouth wide and shut his eyes tight, Reese tossing it and feeling a small ping in the bottom of his rib cage as Dylan chomped down. This can't be a good foreshadowing of the summer he thought. Falling for your roommate. No, this is not a good sign at all. Dylan began to shovel the rice, beans and vegetable mix onto his plate oblivious, drenching the whole with soy sauce and then looking up, asking, "Where can I find Mac and cheese?"

After food was sorted, Dylan's and Pieter's plates and trays heaped high and Reese with his bowl of cereal and other rice and vegetables, the three stood in the Diner Section, unsure of where to sit, until Reese saw a familiar head of peroxide and green stripes. "C'mon," he said. "Know where to sit." Izzy sat with a petite Asian girl with emo glasses and a boy with dull red hair. Assuming Dylan and Pieter were following, Reese went to the booth and slid in next to Izzy on the cracked red pleather. "I invite myself. And my hall mates if they're still around."

"Following," he heard Dylan say and watched as Dylan slid in across from him, next to Izzy and Pieter next to Dylan. Reese turned to the boy and girl next to him, the boy staring back at him, his face a nagging memory. Mentally Reese added glasses and braces and then smiled.

"Ewan!"

"Reese! What's up?"

"Food to be ingested."

"Is that all you're eating?" Reese heard Izzy say and turned to stare down at his food, and his tumbler full of pink lemonade.

"One would assume."

"You need to eat more."

"Don't feel like it."

"You don't eat properly."

"Thank you Nutritionist Izzy. Any other suggestions you would like to make concerning my way of living?"

"That you might get in the pattern of introducing strangers," said Ewan. He motioned to the girl next to him, plate filled with the cuisine of the American Staples line- burger, fries, and salad. "Jessica. Call her Elmo."

"May I inquire why?" asked Pieter.

"Old family nick name," she said, shrugging and biting into her burger.

"Are you ok with that?" Reese asked Izzy.

"YES! Christ, between you and Ewan. As long as I'm not forced to watch it. I was terrified of Sesame Street when I was younger," she explained, turning to Dylan who sat beside her, bemused with a forkful of Mac-and- cheese halfway to his mouth. "I'm Izzy by the way."

"Dylan."

"Pieter."

"Hey, introductions were never my strong point," said Reese, turning on his camera and turning it to face the table and tape as they ate.

Quad- imagine a (hopefully grassy) green with trees, surrounded on most sides by office buildings/dorms/cafeteria. That green patch connecting everything would be the Quad.