A Funny Game We Play

Chapter 1

The sun slowly started to creep in and brighten my dorm room; I could hear Jasmine softly snoring in her bed all the way in the corner. I don’t know how it got there; I think it was the infinite parties that seemed to always take place in this room. I don’t really know why they always are here, but I think it attributes to the fact that no one knows how long Jasmine could last without having a single person next to her, telling her over and over again that she’s beautiful.

I, on the other-hand, well my bed was located on the opposite side of hers, in the other corner. I was actually the person that shoved my bed into a corner because of the never-ending parties that were always held in my dorm, I couldn’t concentrate. Some drunken guy would always come waltzing up to me and ending up spilling something (or worse) all over my clothes and baby pink bedspread.

So I moved, simple as that. Into the corner of the already small enough dorm room where no stupid party could bother me when I read, or when I studied or when I just simply slept, but when it did I usually found comfort in Sam’s surprisingly quiet dorm.

There were few words that could describe Samuel George Hart, two of them being my best friend, but another two could be ultimate player, it doesn’t really bother me (most of the time) only when I see the face of the poor girl around campus and she’s usually glaring at me. So when Sam’s dorm room is loud, and it usually never is, or when his roommate Carl (a chubby guy who could make anybody laugh in the time span of five seconds) is having half the male population of UCLA over at his room, I just resort to the library.

Only Asians and freaks are at the library, that’s what Sam always tells me. Sam being the insensitive jerk he is, I sometimes wonder why he is my best friend. When I look into his brown eyes, they aren’t the same as they were when we were eleven.

He changed when we were around thirteen. Stopped going by Sammie, started going by Sam, stopped hanging with me and started hanging with them. Everybody has a them, the them crowd that steals all the good people in the world and turns them into stupid, maniacal monsters.  That’s what them did to Sam, they turned him into one of them.  I didn’t realize it until high school when he stopped leaving his window open all night to talk to me while I finished my reports or extra-credit projects.

Then I started noticing the one night stands and the girlfriends, he had girls wrapped around his fingers and he never went anywhere alone. Always accompanied by some stupid flock of girls herded around him that made walking with him in the halls downright impossible. That was around the time when I got contact lenses, because I couldn’t help the fact that I wasn’t doing any good to Sam if I looked like a four-eyed freak.

But here we are now, in college. I can’t believe it, I always thought that I would go to an Ivy League school, but here I am in UCLA thinking I could do better, no knowing I could do better. Northwestern accepted me, but my family didn’t have enough money so instead the next best thing was to be in college with my best friend and next door neighbor who I don’t even recognize anymore.

But of course, being me, I hide all those feelings deep, down like I always have; like I did when I found out that Jillian, my puppy, didn’t really go to camp that one dreadful day when I was nine and trying to plant a garden in my backyard.

I peaked one eye out to the room, it was messy, well, and calling it messy would be an understatement. Our room was a nice shade of light purple courtesy to Miss. I-Cannot-Live-In-A-Room-That-Has-Walls-That-Looks-Like-A-Dog-Took-A-Huge-Shit-On-Them, so instead of the beige colored walls every single dorm in our building has, we got the one light purple one.