AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter One
Initialization
I'm not anti-social, I'm just not user-friendly.
Xander
The semester is one hundred and seven days long and I just need to make it to the end. Then I’ll be cured. Or maybe a little bit less of a broken fuckup. That’s what my therapist says at least, not in those words, of course. Her words were more along the lines of, “take it one day at a time, then one month, then one semester. You can change.” You can’t hear the mocking tone in my head, but just know it’s there because I highly doubt I can change.
Either way, I’m going to give it the old college try and focus on not losing my academic scholarship this year. That’s what two and half months of mandatory in-patient treatment has taught me. That I’m not ready to be out in the real world yet. College is a dream, and I don’t want to blow it.
In-patient treatment was Dean Runkin’s condition for me to stay on this fall. But maybe it has been a good thing. It sounds cheesy to call it hope, but Joy, that’s my therapist, she says I have hope now.
Honestly, it’s amazing I haven’t been kicked out of school. I was in the wrong last semester. I see that now. Don’t need to worry about who else has been in the wrong. Can only worry about myself. I just keep repeating Joy’s words until I believe them.
And when I say fucked up, I meanrealbad, in so many public and well-documented ways. There is a thick file with my offenses tucked away in Dean Runkin’s office. He has that special knack for sweeping things under the rug, when it suits him.
According to Dr. Talow from the in-patient center, I have an addiction. Not the kind they have a group for though. Mine is with power and conflict, with drama and pushing boundaries. Assholes anonymous. That’s the group I need.
Not that my friends care. They praise me for my fuckery. Doesn’t reflect well on them, but itwasall my idea.
Fuck, it’ll be nice to have a dorm room again, and a meal plan. The accommodations at Whitmore College are way better than the Sunnybrook Healing Center. My stomach rumbles at the thought of unlimited dining-hall food. I’m sure I must have lost ten pounds this summer. Probably all muscle. There is no gym at Sunnybrook. I could only do so much with body weight exercises. Time to put it back on.
It’s a short walk from the bus station to the dorms. The old cottage-style homes surrounding this campus are tightly packed in neat rows with old maple trees lining the streets. Before the college moved to this area, these were vacation cottages. Now college kids have taken over, mostly. I wonder how different the vibe is now. Definitely rowdier.
My right shoe is just about falling apart, and I stumble on it as I cross the threshold into the ornate brick building that dons the name “Caudwell Hall” above the door in chiseled stone. Probably some ultra rich alumni with the desire to prove themself. That’s how Whitmore College rolls. They go after new money, because they aren’t old enough to draw old money.
I’m one of the exceptions. A poor kid. An orphan, if I really want to make you pity me. They don't give many scholarships here. They don’t need to, because plenty of rich people want to send their kids. But Whitmore wants me, because I’m good at computer science. Coding to be specific, with a side of hacking. Not many people want me, but Whitmore does.
That’s not true though. Plenty of people want to use me. Whitmore is no exception.
Anyway, I need to remember to grab a few bucks to get new shoes. I don’t have much in the bank, just what I managed to scam last semester. That’s one thing the dean didn’t find out about... the money. Thank fuck. I guess Jordan Phillips has been too embarrassed to admit she’s paid me.
Being back in these halls, even though I never stayed in Caudwell specifically, feels familiar in a good way. The gleaming marble floors. The dark black walls with gold fixtures. Whitmore has style. Feels good to be back.
Dammit, I might actually be hopeful.
303. 304. 305. 306. Here goes nothing.
The door to 307, my new dorm room, is already open.
It’s weird to stay in the dorms past freshman year at college, but my scholarship requires it, so here I am.
I’m instantly hit by an explosion of colorful objects neatly arranged in half the room. It’s like a Target ad for dorm rooms. Overwhelming doesn’t even begin to describe it.
My new roommate is standing with an expectant smile on his face, ready to greet me. He is also dressed in bright colors. He matches the damn room. I resist the urge to laugh and take him in. He’s small and sinewy, with creamy skin and bright pink cheeks. His eyes are even baby-blue saucers. He’s like a cartoon prince with pink lips and dark lashes. He looks so damn innocent. Total Squishmallow of a person.
When I enter the space, I can practically see his brain light up with a million thoughts, which quickly spew out in rapid-fire fashion. “Hey, you must be Xander. I’m Cameron. Nice to meet you. I picked the bed by the window. I hope that’s okay. I didn’t know when you’d be coming, and I wanted to get set up. Sorry, I’m probably talking too much. I do that when I’m nervous. I just transferred here from Susman College. I’m glad they have queer dorms here. It’s nice to be around other gay guys. Unless you are an ally. Or an upperclassman. I heard that upperclassmen stay in these dorms too.”
The boy with the verbal diarrhea, my new roommate, is short, especially compared to me. Sort of a twink, although I’m not sure if that word is offensive. I’ll need to learn all the terminology if I’ll be living in the queer dorms. They don’t really call it that officially. It’s called ‘inclusive housing’.
But anyway, that’s what Cameron reminds me of, a twink. His face is pretty and soft, and I bet he’d cringe if he knew what a piece of shit I was. This boy looks like the definition of innocence. Like a Bambi in human form. I wouldn’t be shocked if there was a glowing halo on his perfect head.
“Whatever,” I mutter, and toss my duffel bag into my corner of the room. I don’t have much to my name. Just the duffel stuffed with clothing and my laptop. My computer is my favorite friend and my worst fucking enemy, because people always want to use me for what I can make this computer do. That’s how the world works, I learned long ago. People find a way to use you, so you just have to make sure you can use them right back.
As I crash onto the bare mattress, Cameron starts up again. “I brought a mini fridge and you’re welcome to use it. I can even grab snacks you like when I do the shopping. I’m lucky enough to have a car here. I can take you places. Whatever you need. Hey, are you going to the welcome party later? We could walk down together. But you should know that I am gay, so if you don’t want to be seen with me, I get it, but I know that Whitmore has an anti-bullying policy about that. Not that I think you’re a bully, I’m just saying.”
How wrong he is.I give him the side eye, which seems to stop him in his tracks. Sitting up, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and look straight into his big doe eyes. “Listen, kid, no offense or anything, but you don’t want to be my friend. The sooner you learn that, the better off your life will be.”
