A/N: Hello, this is my first time on although I've had much experience on its sister site, but I was starting to have trouble finishing my storylines over there. There's only so much you can do with certain characters without getting them "out of character". Anyway, here's my first actual original story. Hope it's okay.
Highballers and Wall Flowers
Chapter One
Jackson Ballinger had his head tilted all the way back, eyes closed, as he sat in the uncomfortable wooden desk chair that resembled the other forty-some-odd chairs inside the Psychology 201 class. He had grown a slight headache near the base of his skull and was slowly counting to one hundred over and over again as he waited for the monotonous tone of Dr. Yumir to cease. He hated this class...not because it was difficult (he had all A's), it was just the most boring hour that he had ever had to endure. The only reason he had enrolled was because he needed another elective for the semester and PSYCH 201 happened to have one more seat to fill. Just his luck.
He cracked one eye open and peered through his rectangular-shaped wire-framed glasses to glance at the wall clock with the broken second hand. Twenty minutes. Damn. He could still hear Dr. Yumir going on about Raymond Cattell's Sixteen Personality Factors that everyone was supposed to have read about Wednesday night for an assignment. Jackson only had to read the chapter once to understand exactly what ole Cattell was talking about. He had always had a way with reading difficult texts and understanding them as if in lamen's terms. He didn't like to consider himself a brainiac, but he had to admit he was pretty intelligent for a twenty-one year old. His buddy Max would say he was "a freakin' genius".
He rolled his shoulders nonchalantly as he rolled his head back up into its normal position, cocking his head to the left and the right to get the kinks out. His headache had faded into a mere annoyance now. Come on, two o'clock, come on...
Dr. Yumir started to pull out random questions from the reading in order to see how well they had read. Jackson perked his ears up--he wanted to hear what kinds of dumb answers some people would give. He called on the small blonde-headed girl that sat in the second row, third desk---Callie Barnes. Jackson couldn't see her face from where he was sitting in the back but he imagined that her eyes were bugged out in fearful anticipation, hoping she wouldn't draw a blank.
The question was to give the collective name for the group of words that were low range descriptors of the primary factor of warmth. That was simple, Jackson thought. What do you call something that's reserved, distant, and aloof? He knew the answer but he wanted to hear what shy little Callie had to say.
"Um...Schizophrenia?" she squeaked out in a barely audible voice.
The room was deathly quiet as Dr. Yumir stared at her in a disbelieiving sort of way, as if he didn't know how to respond to the answer.
What kind of stupid answer was that? Jackson thought, shaking his head and smirking as he jerked his arm high in the air.
What kind of stupid answer was that? Callie Barnes thought to herself in a dreadful tone, as she buried her face in her palms. Everyone's bound to think I'm stupid or something.
She could hear Jackson Ballinger in the back correct her mistake by answering, "Uh, the answer's schizothymia, doc," in a slightly know-it-all tone of voice. She could picture him flashing her a "haha, I'm smarter than you" type of grin.
Dr. Yumir decided then that they had done enough for the day and proceeded to give everyone a reading assignment for Monday when they returned to class. After wishing them a good weekend, class was dismissed. Callie stayed seated while everyone around her scrambled to gather their belongings and shove them in their backpacks, turning their cell phones back on to see what calls they had missed, and talk briefly to their neighbors while leaving the room. Callie bit her bottom lip and tucked her head down and quietly put her books in her pack. Her head still down, she moved quickly around the room in order to escape having to hear someone comment on her dumb answer.
Only when she made outside of Ruggs Hall was she able to breathe again, some of the color fading from her cheeks. The weird feeling in her stomach still hadn't gone away though. She scanned the parking lot for her friend Delaney's yellow Volkswagon. She heard a horn blow and saw Delaney's grinning face and ecstaticly waving arm summoning her over. Callie raced through the maze of parked cars and made herself comfortable inside her permanent spot in the passenger seat.
"Good thing I came back from the salon early," Delaney Rizer told her, flipping her gorgeous brown waves behind one shoulder as she pulled out into traffic. "You'd have been out here another half hour, huh? Hey, what's wrong with you? You look upset."
"I said something really stupid in class," Callie muttered, resting her head against the side window. She could see Jackson Ballinger strolling out across the lot towards his periwinkle Ford Mustang, swirling his keyring around his pointer finger as he walked. She sunk down lower in the seat. How could some people be so perfect and others (like her) be complete screw-ups?
She heard Delaney snort as Jackson climbed into the driver seat. "That jerk, thinks he's so much freakin' better than everyone. Did he bother you in class today?"
"No," Callie said bluntly, not in much mood to relive her embarrassment just for her best friend's sake. "Let's just go get something to eat, okay?"
"Okay, doll, whatever you want. Y'know, you oughta come with me to get a manicure or facial sometime, like when we're both out of class together. And I mean actually getting something done for yourself, not just sitting there watching me get one."
Callie shrugged her shoulders. She didn't really care for prettying herself up like Delaney did. It wasn't like it would help her get a boyfriend, better grades, or a million dollars. Besides, her fair complexion always seemed to be a hassle to deal with when she did try to wear makeup. Everything she put on made her look like she had escaped from clown school, so she just stuck to wearing a little powder, mascara, and pale pink lip gloss.
"I might," Callie responded, not wanting to hurt her friend's feelings by not accepting the offer.
Jackson pulled up in front of the apartment complex where he and many other students of South Oaks University resided. He locked the car before trotting upstairs to apartment number 145 that he and Max Harris shared. As he expected, Max was sitting in front of the television in his t-shirt and boxers playing one of his many X-Box games that he had stored in the cabinets. Max was one of the few lucky students whose scheduled somehow managed to give them a day off from classes...and Friday was Max's day off.
"Hey, dude," Max greeted, holding his arm out momentarily for Jackson to give a handslap to before returning it to the game controller. He rubbed his side of his face where his beard was starting to itch on his shoulder, keeping his eyes on the screen the whole time.
For most, it was hard to imagine Jackson and Max being friends. Jackson was the average height of five-seven, black hair, dark oval eyes that stayed somewhat squinted no matter how dim the room may be, and slightly sharp features with a trim waistline. Max was six-foot and featured a pot belly, slightly messed up red hair and unkept beard, giant baby blue eyes, rounded features, and had the mindset of frat boy---beer, video games, beer, girls, and beer. Jackson appreciated the finer tastes of alcohol, reading scholarly journals, CNN, and occassionally he would scope a hot-looking girl that would come across as being worth his time. He hated the ditzy, wild girls that always seemed to infest the bars looking for free drinks and someone to share a bed with. For once, he'd like to see a girl that liked having fun yet had brains that she wasn't afraid to boast.
Max's video game character died on screen, causing its player to utter a harsh curse word, and he flipped the screen off and jumped from his beanbag chair. "Yo, Jacksy! New club opening tonight, called "Deja Blue", heard it was gonna be sweet, wanna check it out, please please please?"
"Sure, why not?" Jackson replied as he skimmed the first page of the daily paper, pushing up on his glasses to keep them from sliding down his nose. He was interrupted by the sound of an older car pulling up noisily into the lot. He knew exactly who it was, so he kept reading.
Delaney parked the car a few spaces down from where Jackson had his car. The four peers had been upstairs/downstairs neighbors for about three years now, since they had all started college together as freshmen. Delaney couldn't stand Jackson "the egotistical bastard" and Jackson couldn't really stand her that well either. He seemed to like teasing Callie on being clumsy and calling her a "dumb blonde", which always caused Delaney to get in his face about it. It was always funny watching the shorter, chunkier girl in a tank top and shorts with heeled flip-flops begin barking at the taller, trimmer guy in khakis/jeans with a long-sleeved dress shirt. Max was generally a laid-back guy that everyone could easily get along with, so he didn't have problems with the feminine neighbors.
"I say we key his car," Delaney stated upon exiting her vehicle, a Taco Bell carry-out bag in one hand and an oversized purse in the other. "That'll teach him."
"No, just let it go," Callie pleaded, not wanting to start another war between the two. She hated quarrelling, especially when there was nothing she could do about it.
"Okay, but only if you go out with me tonight."
Callie nearly fell over at the sudden demand. "What? Go out? You mean...like a bar?"
"Well, duh, girl. You never go out, I always go with the same floozies and they're starting to bore me. I want you to have fun, you're always studying and worrying about grades and freaking out about your parents who may I remind you are across the state line. You have to go out at least once while in college, you'll regret it forever. Come on, Callie, you'll have fun."
"Oh, I don't know..."
"It's a new place, called Deja Blue. It'll be real clean, they're screening everyone at the door so no freaks show up and try to ruin the place. It's supposed to be real nice. You don't have to drink, you can just sit and talk if you want." She held up her car keys. "It's either that or I'm going over to Prick-Head's car and carving my initials into his hood."
"Okay, you win!" Callie answered quickly, knowing that Delaney really would do that to the Mustang. Her stomach started doing that weird flippy-floppy motion again, a sign that her nerves were acting up. Why did she always allow everyone to walk all over her, even her best friend? She knew Delaney meant well, but honestly!
Okay, that's chapter one, hope it's all right. please review, I'd super appreciate it!