Matt & Topher

Orientation Week

They slipped and skidded on the dew-covered grass down the hill from South Main Street to the main faculty and visitor parking lot. Matt nearly had his feet come out from under him more than once while Topher managed to keep a death-grip on his travel mug. He stumbled at the bottom, the open edges of his jacket flapping, and hooked an arm around a lamp post to stay upright.

It was smoother sailing crossing the street to the Student Center, and managed to arrive outside the Haderlin Room with no awkward wet spots or grass stains. They joined the line to pick up their orientation weekend training binder.

"Name?" the girl behind the table asked him.

"Matthew Winchester." He accepted the lanyard - his full name and graduation year on the card behind the plastic covering - and then the binder. He moved to the right and waited for Topher so they could find someplace to sit together.

"Stanton," Topher said, rubbing his free hand up and down his face.

To say Topher Stanton wasn't a morning person was an understatement.

She looked between him and the name on the tag. "Barnaby?"

"Yeah. That's me." He took his binder and followed Matt to a mostly empty table.

Matt slipped his lanyard over his head while Topher perused the binder materials. He ran his thumb over the bright yellow button with the number five on it.

"Hey, Topher?"

Topher handed over his own lanyard without looking up from the blue paper in front of him. His button said seven. Matt tossed the name tag back, content to watch the rest of the orientation mentors - students from sophomores to seniors - filter in.

"Matt Winchester?"

He turned and looked up slightly, first noticing the sheer amount of flaming red hair around her shoulders. He'd gone searching on Facebook when he'd found out who his orientation mentor partner was and honestly, he really only remembered the hair volume. "Katie?"

"Nice to meet you," she said, holding her hand out.

"Nice to meet you, too." He nudged Topher with his elbow. "This is my roommate, Topher."

Topher looked up with a smile, reaching across Matt to shake Katie's hand. They both looked when someone approached Topher's other side. Matt leaned forward to see better.

"Daniel?"

"Danny." The somewhat stocky young man cocked his head to the side. "Barnaby?"

"Topher."

Danny mirrored Katie and sat down next to his OM partner. Topher slid his lanyard over his head, and from the look on his face, Matt knew he'd be doctoring it later so the 'Barnaby' wouldn't be legible.

He flipped his binder to the first page as the Orientation Coordinators stepped up to the podium at the front of the room. Five minutes later, Matt spared a thought for the travel mug he'd left on the kitchen counter and decided he'd need a whole damn pot a day for the rest of the week.

The only thing keeping Topher going was roughly six cups of coffee a day and an endless amount of smartass commentary from Danny Anderson. They had to keep sixteen firsties on the straight and narrow for the first three days of their college career.

Thank Christ he wasn't responsible for them after that.

If he was any more bored out of his skull he'd be tempted to pop his migraine meds for the equivalent of sedating himself. Except he'd tried that once before - only once - and he'd puked his guts up before the affects had worn up, and spent the next few hours in agony.