Chapter 1 - Eamon
I looked up at the imposing grey building of St. Matthew's all-boys school, a heavy feeling settling in my stomach. Up until my junior year in high school, I had gone to a public school, but my dad decided that I should get a "better education than public school can provide." In reality, that translates to him just wanting me out of the house so he could spend time with his girlfriend, Clarissa. It kind of frustrated me, knowing that I came second to his bleached-blonde, D-cup bimbo...and that he could forget Mom so easily after she died. Before she had gotten cancer, I was very close to my dad. But when she got sick, we started to drift apart. Clarissa was the last straw, I guess. So he decided to send me to St. Matthew's for the rest of high school.
Sighing, I adjusted my backpack and stared at my shiny black dress shoes. The school uniform consisted of navy blue slacks and jackets, with white button-up shirts underneath, all topped with a red neck tie. It was stifling, to say the least. I wasn't so much dreading being at an all-boys school as I was a private school. I'd heard some less-than-savory rumors about private schools, and was definitely not looking forward to finding out if they were true. Classes would begin in an hour, so students took that time to familiarize themselves with their dorm rooms and roommates. I glanced down at a crumpled and folded sheet of paper clutched tightly in my hand.
Jordan, Eamon. Room assignment: B24. Roommate: Gilcrest, Evan.
I sighed once more, ascending the small staircase leading to the fancy wooden doors. I maneuvered my way through the throngs of chattering students, glancing at the room numbers as I went. Of course--everything said 'A.' I continued down the hallway, which curved to the right in an L shape. I felt relieved when I spotted a staircase at the end of that hallway and made a beeline for it, bumping into a large, solid mass. I stumbled backward slightly, my gaze moving up...and up...dear God. The boy standing in front of me was practically a giant, and had the muscle mass of a buffalo. He glared menacingly down at me with cold brown eyes, his teeth bared in his small, thin mouth.
"Watch where you're going, you fucking fag," he growled. I backed up, knowing a threat when I saw one. I edged around him carefully, the feel of his hateful eyes boring into my back making me hurry. Reaching the stairs, I climbed them two at a time, risking a glance back down when I was halfway up. The boy I had run into was still glaring at me, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Shaking it off, I continued up until I was on the second story. Walking the hall, careful to avoid bumping into anyone else, I glanced at the room numbers. Toward the end of the hallway, I finally found B24. Hesitating, I knocked gently before remembering that it was my room too. Turning the door knob, I opened the door, setting my bags down. There was a desk against the wall to my left, a computer set up atop it. On the adjoining wall was a large bookcase and a dresser, the bathroom door not far from them. Turning to my right, I saw a loveseat, TV and VCR, and a small stereo set up next to them. Directly across from me was a bunk bed. I entered the room further, closing the door behind me. Sitting on the bottom bunk, I sighed. My roommate was nowhere to be found, although apparently he had already unpacked. I rifled through my book bag and pulled out my school map, glancing at my schedule to determine where my classes were.Fortunately for me, my first class was right beside the entrance of the school. I wouldn't have to walk around aimlessly to find it. I would have to walk across the building to get to the cafeteria, but all in all, the school's design made it easy to get to all your classes. I mean, it was just one big square, really. The only thing outside of it was the gym, but I wouldn't have to deal with that until second semester. I sat on my bunk (or at least, I assumed it was my bunk) for a while, staring at my schedule and thinking. What kind of friends would I make? Or would I even make friends? Chances were pretty good, but if everyone was as much of an ass as the giant I ran into in the hall... I shuddered at the thought. 'Please God, if that's the case, just strike me down now.' Taking a peek at my watch, I realized that I had been sitting there for 20 minutes already. I hoisted my feet up on the bed, once again praying that it was actually my half of the bunk, and set my watch to beep in 30 minutes. That would give me time for a small nap...
Even as I had it, I knew it was a dream. Still, that didn't make it any better. I was young, four maybe, sitting on a towel at the beach. My father sat beside me. He was handsome, with dark brown hair and deep blue eyes. He was around my current height, six feet, and laughing. I looked next to him and saw my mother. Her blonde hair shined in the sunlight, a beautiful smile gracing her features, her blue eyes twinkling with mirth. I felt so happy at that moment, watching my parents interact. They had always loved each other so much, loved me so much... The happiness I felt in my dream turned to cold dread, for when I looked at my mother again, I saw Clarissa. She was a sickening parody of the woman who gave me life, with her bleached, straw-like hair, grey eyes, and overly tanned skin. She grinned cruelly at me, grasping my father's arm possessively.
I awoke with a start, gasping slightly. My hair was matted to my forehead with sweat, and my skin felt clammy. I laid there for several minutes, trying to banish Clarissa's image from my mind. Ever since my mother died when I was twelve, I would have dreams of her. Some of them were wonderful, welcome memories, and some were nightmares like that one. It had barely been a year after Mom died when Dad brought Clarissa home. I had hated her from the start, furious at my father for trying to replace the woman we had both loved so much. He even let her wear my mom's old clothes! And Clarissa had never even bothered to show any interest in me. She didn't want a kid, and I didn't want a second mother. There had been so many times I had wished I could just kill her, as sick as that sounds. Everything revolved around Clarissa after that. It was like I no longer existed or something.
Sighing, I slowly sat up, wiping the sleep from my eyes. I looked at my watch...I had fifteen minutes before classes would start. Shuffling into the bathroom, I ran my hand over the wall looking for the light switch. Not finding it, I turned to glare at the wall, only to realize that the switch was outside the bathroom, not inside it. Groaning, I reached through the doorway and flipped the switch, squinting as the light assaulted my sensitive eyes. The reflection that greeted me in the mirror wasn't pretty. I looked kind of like a zombie, my blue eyes and brown hair both dulled. I'm sure my anxiety over being at a new school didn't help any. I turned on the cold water, letting it collect in my cupped palms before splashing it on my face with a gasp. That stuff was cold! It did help to wake me up some, though. Lucky for me, because I needed to get my crap together and head off for my first class. What was it? Geometry. Be still, my beating heart. No, really--be still so I can die and avoid going through this. I dried my skin with a hand towel and turned the faucet off, flipping the light switch when I exited the bathroom. I stared at my books for a moment, kneeling on the floor to gather them. The school didn't have lockers or anything, so I had to lug my book bag around with me all day. I had been given my books ahead of time, so I already had everything I would need. I guess they figured that giving the students their books before school started would save the teachers the effort or something. I shoved them in my book bag and smoothed my hair down quickly.
I left my room, making sure to turn off the light as I went. I'd hate for my roommate to have any reason to harp at me before I even met him! I walked down the hallway, past the throngs of students. I glanced around nervously, recalling the earlier incident with the giant boy. A lot of the students were wearing crosses and religious paraphernalia. I really hoped that they wouldn't make me wear a cross or anything... Not only did I not own one, but I really wasn't interested in religion. I'm sure it's great for some people, but not me. I knew that if my mom were still alive, I'd probably still be attending Sunday school and volunteering at the local church. Instead, I spent Sundays wondering if my dad and Clarissa would stop fucking long enough to feed me dinner (usually not). I reached the stairs, but had to wait my turn. Apparently, everyone else had the same idea I did: get to class early.
I entered the main building and turned left, slipping into my classroom along with several other students. My teacher, Mr. Hector, was writing something on the dry-erase board. He was a short, bald and chubby man, dressed in a grey business suit with a tacky yellow tie. I slipped into a seat close to the front of the room, setting my book bag on the eggshell-colored tile carefully. I pulled out my geometry book, only slightly used, and waited for the bell to ring. A petite blonde boy claimed the seat in front of me, glancing back and smiling at me before sitting. I returned the gesture weakly but didn't try to talk to him. I probably should have, considering the fact that I knew no one there, but Mr. Hector was making me nervous. His handwriting left the impression that he was swift and to the point, and probably pretty anal retentive about his students being orderly. Once the bell rang and most everyone had milled in, he shuffled quickly over to the door and shut it. He went on to begin his lesson, something about angles. He was sure to remind us that we were young and stupid, and that he assumed this was at least our third time being taught how an acute angle differs from an obtuse one. 'Too bad I learned this in fourth grade,' I thought glumly as I tried to pretend to pay attention. I tapped my pencil against the desktop, letting the noise distract me for a while.
"Would you stop that?" the boy in front of me turned around and hissed. I let the pencil drop out of my fingers and didn't pick it up again until I had to take notes.
Right before the bell rang, I glanced at my schedule and map to locate my English class. It was room 116, which was to the right of the main entrance. All I had to do was walk to the end of the hallway and I'd be there. The bell rang as I was shoving my papers and book into my book bag and snatched it up, walking to my next class–careful not to get in anyone's way as I did. I reached the doorway, but there was a group of students congregated on either side of it. I sighed and eased my way through, almost into the room when I collided with someone trying to exit the class. He was about my height, so the impact only jarred me slightly. I readjusted my bag, which had fallen down my shoulder to rest in the crook of my elbow, and glanced up at him. He was slender and muscular, but not overly so. He had high cheek bones and short black hair with bangs that ended right above his strong eyebrows. That drew my attention to his blue eyes, which were looking at me with a mix of annoyance and impatience. I ducked my head meekly and slipped past him so he could get out of the room.
"Sorry," I muttered as he passed. He paused to glance at me briefly, then turned silently. The students that were gathered around the doorway seemed to move out of his way, as if they were intimidated by him. I let out the breath I had been holding and took the nearest seat, resting my forehead in my palm. 'Twice in one day so far,' I thought. 'How many people can you run into, Eamon?' Glancing around, I realized that there was a uniform jacket draped over the back of the chair next to mine. Crap...the boy I ran into hadn't been wearing his... I contemplated moving, but most of the good seats were quickly being occupied. It took me several minutes to realize that our teacher was already at her desk in the corner. I hadn't even realized she was in the room, honestly. My powers of perception suck, you know. Miss Taylor was a pretty, petite woman of no more than thirty. I was dumbstruck; I hadn't expected that an all-boys high school would hire a pretty, young, and apparently unmarried female teacher. I reached into my book bag and rifled through it, pulling out my English book, a notebook, and a pencil. I thought I heard someone near me whisper "new kid" to one of his pals, but I ignored it. I mean, I seriously doubt I was the only new kid at the school. The bell rang and Miss Taylor rose from her chair, a stack of papers in her hands. 'Oh God, is this a pop quiz?' I thought stupidly in panic. She walked to the front of the room and smiled.
"Good morning students. My name is Elizabeth Taylor–Miss Taylor to you, and I will be your English 3 teacher this semester. I'm going to give each of you a copy of my classroom policies, which I would like signed and returned by tomorrow, please. Anyone who fails to return the signed portion of the paper without a written excuse will receive detention. I'm also handing you a student survey sheet, which is to be filled out before the end of the class period today." She began passing the papers out, while everyone chose to ignore her and talk to each other.
The door opened, and the boy I had collided with walked in. The teacher only glanced briefly at him as he took his seat near mine. He must have had her permission if he wasn't in any trouble for being late... He sighed, leaning back in his chair as if he were exhausted. It's funny how he intimidated me so much, if you think about it. I mean, he hadn't spoken a single word to me, but there was something about the look in his fierce eyes... This was definitely a guy I didn't want to mess with. 'Probably an athlete of some sort,' I guessed, judging by his muscular frame. Most teenage boys don't bother to hone their muscles to that extent unless they anticipate using them. He ran a strong hand through his cropped hair and took the papers that the boy in front of him passed backward. I watched as he read over them and picked up his pencil, chewing on it distractedly. Something nudged me; I looked forward, only to see a very annoyed boy waiting for me to take the papers from him.
"Sorry," I mumbled, my face going red. I took mine and passed the rest behind me. I stared down at the sheets on my desk for a moment.
"I'm going to call roll now. When you hear your name, please answer. I'd like to put a face to each name," Miss Taylor said from her desk. I started filling out the survey half-heartedly, tapping my pencil on the desk every few minutes. I was halfway through the survey when I realized that the boy next to me was watching me. I stopped mid-tap, remembering how much it had annoyed the blonde in Geometry.
"Is this bothering you?" I asked meekly, indicating the pencil still grasped between my fingers. He raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable.
"And if it is?"
I gulped; this guy was freaking me out! "Um...then I'll stop..."
He regarded me for a minute, his eyes raking over my features. I felt my face flush despite myself, causing him to smirk faintly.
"It isn't bothering me, but I would suggest trying to break the habit," he finally responded. I let out the breath I had been unconsciously holding. Feeling a bit bolder since I figured he wasn't going to beat me bloody, I introduced myself.
"I'm Eamon," I said, forcing myself to smile good-naturedly. He blinked, hesitating as if he didn't want me to know his name. Okay, he was really weirding me out... I sighed, turning back to face the front of the room, not expecting him to answer. Strike two to my ego.
"My name is Rhole," he finally said. I looked over in surprise, but he was busy filling out his own survey at that point. Well, at least I wasn't the only kid around who had an unusual name!
I didn't talk to him again for the rest of class, and no one bothered to make friendly talk with me. Ugh. Miss Taylor took up our surveys at the end of the class period and reminded us to make sure our policy sheets came back signed the next day. Honestly, I didn't see why she couldn't just take those up, too. I mean, it's not like our parents had to sign them--it could be taken care of in class.
The bell rang, and I slowly stood, waiting until the doorway was clear to head out. I paused in the hallway, looking straight ahead. The cafeteria was at the end of the hall. Great, I was going to be stuck eating alone. My book bag suddenly felt very heavy on my shoulder, as if its weight had doubled. I started walking forward, but paused when I saw something that made my heart pound in my chest. The humongous boy I had run into in the dorms was towering over a small boy, fury visible on his meaty face. Rhole stood next to the boy, saying something to the giant with disgust etched into his features. I took a few tentative steps forward; they were about thirty feet away from me. The boy my classmate was apparently defending was petite and almost frail. He had light brown hair that reached nearly to his chin, his small form backed against the wall. I don't know why, but something inside of me burned, a protectiveness that didn't seem warranted. I slowly made my way toward them, adjusting my bag so my shoulder didn't ache as much. When I was about five feet away, the bully finally looked down at me, sneering.
"Another fag? You're the little bitch that bumped into me earlier, aren't you? Trying to cop a feel, fairy?"
I pressed my lips in a firm line, glancing briefly at Rhole. His eyes met mine, warning me to stay back. I almost backed away, but forced myself to stay.
"Leave him alone, Bull. Don't you have a class to go to?" he growled. I saw him gently push the smaller boy behind him protectively.
"You'd better watch yer back this year, fag lover. You ain't no big, bad wrestling champion no more. You so much as breathe my air, and I'll kill you."
He turned to glare at me, making me gasp softly in surprise.
"You watch yer step too, new boy. Get in my way an' you'll be seeing the bottom of my shoe!" He stormed off, his heavy footsteps echoing loudly in the hallway. I stood there uncertainly, perhaps waiting for Rhole to yell at me or something. He watched me quietly, a guarded expression in his eyes. The other boy edged out from behind him, flashing me a weak smile.
"I hope you don't get the impression that all students here are like him," he said softly. I looked at him and realized that his eyes were the same light brown as his hair. I couldn't help but smile back.
"Who is he?" I asked seriously.
Rhole sighed, rubbing his neck. "Bull Campton. He's a big, tough football player who thinks he can push everyone else around," he said, rolling his eyes. "His real name is Leo, but most people don't dare call him anything except Bull." His impassive eyes studied me for a moment, making me feel like a bug under a microscope.
"Why did you come over here?"
I blinked, a bit surprised at the question. His friend looked up at him reproachfully. I cleared my throat, that old feeling of intimidation creeping up again.
"I thought I could...help, or something..." I said.
Rhole's eyebrow rose. "Help who?" he asked. It was like a light bulb went off in my head, the way everything suddenly seemed clear. He was testing me, trying to figure out if I was a threat or not. But a threat to what? I glanced briefly at the smaller boy standing next to him. He looked back at me steadily, but his shoulders were tense.
"Him," I said. Rhole followed my gaze and relaxed slightly. He looked from me to the boy and back again.
"You wanted to help someone you don't even know?"
I nodded, beginning to feel annoyed. I had answered his damn question, so what was he digging for?
"Perhaps," the boy's soft voice said, "introductions are in order?"
Rhole stared at him for a moment. He only smiled, resting a slender, pale hand on his taller friend's shoulder.
"...Right. He's in my English class," Rhole said carefully.
The other boy's expression softened even more when he turned to me, extending his hand shyly.
"My name is Cole. Please don't mind Rhole's interrogation; he's a bit protective."
I took his hand without thinking about it, our eyes still locked. His hand was soft, but unusually cold.
"I'm Eamon," I said. His smiled widened, baring his white teeth. His fingers tightened around my hand.
"Would you like to sit with us at lunch?" he asked. I had the impression that even if I said no, he wouldn't let go of my hand. Not that I minded, really...
"Sure," I conceded with a glance at Rhole. He nodded, turning to lead the way. I hesitated for a brief second, suddenly realizing how odd it must have looked that our hands were still joined. Cole looked at me patiently, tugging gently on my hand. I let him keep hold of my hand as we walked. Some passing students stared at us and whispered, while some looked away quickly. Geez, they thought we were gay. Did Cole realize that and just not care? I decided not to risk upsetting him by bringing it up. Besides, his hand was a comforting weight against mine, even if it did make my cheeks burn slightly.
We entered the crowded cafeteria together, Rhole leading the way to a table in the far right corner. I sat down in the first seat facing away from the wall, Cole taking the one next to me. Rhole sat across from him, staring at the menu board in the distance.
"Chicken...potatoes...lard burgers...fat on a stick..." He looked at Cole. "What do you want today?"
The boy smiled and squinted, trying to read the tiny print. "Um...apple juice, chicken nuggets, and green beans if they have them. I don't care what dessert, just no Jell-O."
The black-haired boy nodded, rising from his seat to get the food.
"He gets your lunch for you?" I asked curiously. A suspicious thought was beginning to buzz around in my head. He shrugged, and I had the feeling I had embarrassed him.
"Sometimes I feel too weak to get it myself. Since we never know when I'll feel that way, he just gets it for me everyday."
"Weak?"
This time, I was sure I had embarrassed him. His face went red and he looked away, hands fiddling nervously with his belt buckle. Damn it; smooth, Eamon, real smooth.
"I-it's nothing much...just I..umm...I'm not e-exactly..."
My heart ached watching him struggle with what to tell me. He seemed like such a sweet person, and I hated myself for upsetting him, even if I didn't mean to. I reached over and touched his wrist gently, causing him to look up at me in surprise.
"It's okay. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I'm sorry. You don't have to explain it to me if you don't want to," I told him, smiling weakly. He blinked, his face having returned to its normal hue except for his cheeks. He gave me a grateful, shy smile that made something inside me jump for joy. It was about that time that Rhole came back, balancing two food trays. He set them down carefully, then stared down at us from across the table. I realized with a start that my hand was still covering Cole's, which was resting on his belt buckle. Crap. Rhole's eyes darkened to the point that I was glad looks couldn't kill. I slowly withdrew my hand and tried not to look guilty. Okay, he was either a very protective friend, or they were dating. Oh God, I hoped they weren't dating. I mean, I wasn't jealous or anything, I just didn't want it to seem like I was moving in on Rhole's boyfriend. Not that I was.
"You should get your food now, Eamon," he said firmly. I gulped and nodded, hurrying across the cafeteria. I stood in line, glancing back at the table. Rhole was leaned forward, talking to Cole. I thought I saw him glance my way, so I guessed they were talking about me. Great. Remember how earlier I said that I definitely didn't want to piss Rhole off? Well, let me emphasize that. I may have been his height, but he had some muscle mass on me. I ordered my lunch (I'm sure you don't care what I ordered) and headed with a slightly heavy heart back to the table. I sat back down, not looking at Rhole. Maybe if I kept off his radar, he wouldn't hurt me.
I was about to start picking at my food when an arm draped around Rhole's neck. Wait...the fingers had black nail polish on them. What the hell? I looked upward, only to see the last thing I would have expected at a private school. The boy was a bit shorter than me, with chin-length blonde hair and greyish-blue eyes. The thing that made me pause was the fact that the hair framing his face was shoulder-length and bright red. I could have sworn that was against school rules... The boy rested his chin on Rhole's shoulder and spoke to him, looking straight at me.
"Did you bring me a gift? He's pretty. Can I keep him?" he asked the dark-haired boy, eyeing me appraisingly. I felt my cheeks heat up from the look in his eyes. Rhole rolled his eyes and gently shrugged the boy off of him.
"Leave him alone Evan, he's new."
The blonde straightened and pouted. His uniform jacket was unbuttoned, his tie hanging loosely around his neck. He took the seat directly across from me and crossed his legs. Dear God...he was wearing boots with chunky heels...the kind women wear. I gawked at him, my mouth hanging open in shock.
He winked at me. "Oh, but that's the best kind, my friend. Means I can house train him myself," he said huskily. I didn't know whether to guard my wallet or my virginity. I felt that I was forgetting something, but I couldn't pinpoint it for the life of me. Evan sighed, propping his elbow on the table and resting his chin in his palm. I stared at his fingernails for a minute, until I realized that he was watching me with amusement.
"You're no fun, Rhole. I miss my nerd. Why couldn't he have our lunch this year? Maybe I can borrow yours?" he said, gesturing toward Cole. The boy in question gave him a mock glare.
"Ha ha. Funny."
Evan blew him a kiss, and Cole just smiled. Rhole sighed, apparently used to such antics.
"It's not like you can't see him after classes. He lives two fucking blocks away, man." He looked at me for a moment. "I don't know if you're aware of it yet, so I'll tell you anyway. When classes are over, students can leave campus and do...whatever. But you have to be back in your room by ten, or you'll get in trouble. Do you have a car?"
I shook my head and he nodded. "I do. Cole doesn't, and Evan used to...but he got it taken away. Ken has a car, too." He raised an eyebrow at the blonde sitting next to him. "Some people like to mooch off of his charity, although I can't imagine who," he said sarcastically.
Evan stuck out his tongue. "That's what he's good for," he said defensively. I could only assume that the 'nerd' he had been talking about was this Ken guy.
"Anyway," Cole said, "it's not like you don't have any classes with him. The three of us have Health together this year."
Evan sighed dramatically, stealing a French fry from my tray. I would have said something about it, except I wasn't sure I wanted to talk to him. Cole looked at me and smiled.
"Can I see your schedule?" he asked. I nodded, pulling the now pitifully crumpled paper from my book bag. He took it from me, his eyes glancing over it. After a minute, he pulled his own schedule out of his pocket and compared the two. I watched with interest. It would be nice to have at least one class with a friendly face...
"Damn," he murmured, surprising me. "We don't have any classes together all year! That's too bad..." He handed my schedule back to me and put his own away.
"Maybe we can hang out after classes?" he asked hopefully. The look in his eyes made my breath catch in my throat. He seemed so sad, as if he was all alone. He wasn't, judging by Evan and Rhole's presences, but still...it felt like maybe he could understand how I felt, being all alone at a new school away from my dysfunctional home.
"I'd like that," I told him quietly, aware of Rhole's eyes watching me. Cole grinned widely, making him look even more beautiful than before. I tried to shake that thought from my head. I was just embarrassed too easily, I told myself. Nothing to worry about... He glanced at Rhole, then at Evan. The former gave a hard, disapproving look, while the latter just grinned and shrugged.
"What dorm do you have?" he finally asked.
I glanced down at my schedule. "Uh...B24." I gasped as the paper was snatched from my hand. Evan's eyes scanned it while I tried not to lose my temper. What the hell was this guy's problem?!
"Well look at that..." He studied me for a moment thoughtfully. "It appears that I've located my roommate." He tapped his chin. "What's your name, anyway?"
"Eamon," I growled.
He nodded and pushed the paper toward me. "Well, Eamon, I hope you're a heavy sleeper. Top bunk is yours, and if any teachers come by when I'm not in, tell them I'm in the bathroom. Leave the door unlocked at night and the bathroom light on. I hate having to stumble in drunk at three in the morning in the dark."
I blinked. He was my roommate?! Oh God... Rhole looked at me with something akin to pity in his eyes. He stood, abandoned his food and walked around the table to lean over my shoulder.
"It's not that bad," he whispered. "Evan's not going to rape you or anything, if that's what you're afraid of." He grinned when I blushed, patting my shoulder good-naturedly before going back to his own seat. Cole leaned closer to me, resting a hand lightly on my shoulder.
"After your last class, meet Evan in the dorm and he'll bring you to us," he said, glancing at the blonde for affirmation. He nodded and smiled, although it wasn't very reassuring. Even his smile seemed lecherous. He paused, suddenly banging his fist on the lunch table. We all jumped, and several boys from surrounding tables turned to see what had happened.
"Damn it, I don't have time to eat now!" he moaned, running a hand through his hair. Rhole huffed, taking a bite out of his own chicken.
"Maybe if you had bothered to show up on time, you wouldn't go hungry," he pointed out. He had a point; Evan had to have missed at least half of the lunch period, which left the question: where had he been? I honestly wasn't sure I wanted to know. He seemed like the type who would be off doing nefarious things. Maybe he hadn't even gone to his classes that morning. Man, why did he have to be my roommate? What did I do to deserve that?
Cole glanced at his watch, then patted my hand gently. I looked at him in surprise, but he just smiled apologetically.
"We should get going... We have to get our books for our last two classes from the dorms before the bell rings," he explained, glancing at Rhole. The taller boy nodded and stood, collecting his own tray and Cole's. I hesitated before asking something that had been nagging at me.
"Is...he your roommate?"
Cole looked at me and nodded as if it should have been obvious. What? You thought I was going to ask if they were dating? Yeah, right...I'm not that tactless, thanks very much. He stood, giving me a sweet smile that I couldn't help returning. He picked up his book bag very carefully, as if the effort physically pained him. I saw Evan start to stand, his hands poised to push himself up in case he was needed. Cole passed by me and stood at the end of the table. He shifted his bag and wrapped his arms around Evan's neck lightly, hugging him. The blonde immediately returned the hug, letting the shorter boy rest his head on his shoulder. I watched with mixed feelings as Evan kissed the top of Cole's head affectionately, only pulling apart as Rhole returned. Unlike his earlier behavior with me, he didn't show any signs of jealousy or upset at the sight. Instead, he just nodded to Evan and I, taking Cole's bag from him even as he balanced his own. They left, and Evan sighed. He stood and threw his beat-up bag over his shoulder, pausing to give me an unreadable look.
"You're still on probation, you know," he said seriously, almost looking as scary as Rhole for a moment. "You're not one of us yet, so don't forget that, kid. See ya after classes." He sauntered away, shoving the cafeteria doors out of his way. I watched him, my cheeks burning with anger. Kid? Who the hell did he think he was? I had thought I was making new friends, but maybe I was wrong. Rhole didn't seem to like me, Evan was a seemed to be the only one who wasn't ready to snap at me. I smiled slightly at the thought. Well, at least I had made one friend...