iii. SCHOOL MAKES ME WANT TO DIE ( chapter three )
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It was the morning after the beginning-of-term feast and Cal already wanted to go on Christmas holidays. He woke up in a jumble on his bed, his sheets halfway off the bed and his pillows sitting on the other side of the dormitory. His dorm mates were getting ready, ignoring how horribly he slept. They were used to it. Cal forgot just how early they were made to wake up; he was used to the easy mornings of the Summer holidays, where he could lazy around in bed all morning before getting up—at his own pace—for breakfast.
The food they served at Hogwarts was almost worth the outrageously early hours they were subjected to.
Getting ready was a mess. As the last person to get up, he was left with only cold water for his shower. And in his opinion, nothing was worse than a cold shower in the morning. Then, he needed to rummage through his trunk for his uniform. It was almost impossible to get the clothes out from under all the rubbish he brought with him ( why did his Mum insist on him taking two combs? ), but after a lot of tugging and grunting, it was free and mostly wrinkle-free. He jumped into his uniform and quickly fixed his hair, dragging the comb through his damp, blond curls and hoping for the best. The whole process lasted around fifteen minutes, give or take a few. He was even out of the dormitory before a few of the others who had woken up before him. But knowing them, they would take hours to make sure they looked perfect.
For what? Cal didn't know. They weren't at a fashion show, nor were any of the girls very interested, so there wasn't a point. Whatever the case may have been, Cal was ready and out of the door in no time.
He walked down the dimly lit, familiar corridor that led to the Common Room. He passed by a few guys from the other years and nodded his head, as was customary in Slytherin house. No one wanted to be talked to that early in the morning, least of all a bunch of grumpy Slytherins with tendencies to snap at the first inconvenience, not that any of them would admit to it.
When Cal entered the Common Room, his eyes scanning it for anyone he knew—namely Evan and Carmen—he heard a voice call out from the entrance. It was as he had hoped.
"Cal!" Said Evan, bringing his arm up to wave at him. He looked like many of the other boys in their year—that was, overly done up. His hair was coiffed and his shirt looked like it had been freshly ironed, it was so straight. Even his shoes were shined! Everything looked like it was done on purpose. And as Cal got closer to him, he smelled a subtle, spicy scent coming from Evan.
"Are you wearing cologne? Why?" Asked Cal, leaning in to smell him again. They were standing close enough that if Cal looked up, he would be able to see the faint spattering of freckles on Evan's nose.
Evan took it in stride. "What, no good morning?" At Cal's withering look, he rolled his eyes, relenting. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. And not that it has anything to do with you, but I am attempting to woo a certain lucky student at our school," he explained, bobbing his head like a proud peacock. He had that irritating smirk plastered on his face, too.
