A/N:
As always, I warn that this chapter is not edited.
It's finals time for me now, so I've been writing a lot when I'm not studying. I only have two exams, one tomorrow and one at eight o'clock on next Wednesday, but it's still super stressful.
Enjoy the chapter, guys, because I might not be on here to post the next one for a little bit.
As always, opinions/thoughts are welcomed.
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I wake up feeling like one of those stereotypical characters in a book or movie, the guys who wake up someplace new and can't remember how they got there.
It takes a little bit for me to register that no, this isn't my bedroom at home and yes, I am in fact still stuck at the Perkins School.
It only takes me a couple more seconds to notice that someone is pounding away at the door of mine and Derek's suite.
Following the same logic I've always utilized in the mornings, I reason that if I ignore it for long enough the inconvenience will go away and I'll be able to get back to sleep.
Closing my eyes, I've just started to drift off when another round of knocking begins.
I roll over, pulling the covers over my head and desperately wishing for more sleep. I had a long day yesterday, and despite what must have been at least twelve hours of sleep, I'm still a little tired.
I register the sound of the bathroom door opening, then Derek's voice as he crosses our room toward the door.
"All right," he snaps, "I hear you. I'm coming."
He opens the door, and Amber's exclamation cuts through the momentary silence.
"Wow, took you long enough!"
I push back the covers, realizing now that my hopes of getting more sleep are practically nonexistent.
Amber is marching across the room, depositing what appears to be a skateboard on the floor. She's holding some sort of muffin in her left hand, and she takes a ravenous bite from it as she sits on my roommate's bed. She's wearing a pink and silver helmet, her hair pulled back in a high ponytail.
A second girl follows her through Derek's door.
She's about five and a half feet tall, with shoulder-length, honey-blonde hair.
"Breakfast already?" Derek wonders, looking first at Amber.
She nods, still devouring the muffin like it's the last one she'll ever have.
"It's eight-fifty, Derek," the blonde complains, "breakfast is pretty much over."
"My bad." Derek says lamely, sitting next to Amber on his bed.
Amber's companion shoots Derek a look, taking up a position in his desk chair.
"Let's see if I can figure out what's wrong with your piece-of-crap computer. Really, this model is practically an antique."
Amber unsuccessfully tries to stifle her laughter, then catches sight of me.
"Morning, Tim!"
Yawning, I mumble something in response that sounds vaguely like "morning."
"Derek," Amber warns, "you better not be tormenting him. I was tormented enough waiting for him yesterday at the airport. Eesh, I was stuck standing by that baggage claim with the devil worshiper forever."
"Marco isn't a devil worshiper, and I really wish you'd stop calling him that." The blonde snaps irritably. This girl opens Derek's laptop, then glances in my direction. She skewers me with a curious stare, her sky-blue gaze meeting my emerald one as she studies me intently.
"So you're the roommate." she doesn't ask, but I nod anyway.
Amber sighs.
"Yes, your ex is the closest thing I've ever seen to a devil worshiper. Just get over it, I hate him and I'm always going to." she declares, turning a calmer gaze to me, "That's my roommate. We were roommates last year and, having known her for a year now, I can safely say Creighton doesn't bite."
Creighton ignores Amber, glancing at the screen of Derek's computer again. She never looks away from the screen as she begins typing a series of numbers.
Derek glances at me.
"Right now," he tells me, "you're in the presence of the two highest GPAs in our grade. You already know I'm not one of them."
Amber shoots me a smile.
"I'm number two in our grade, thanks to Creighton. If it wasn't for her, I'd be first."
"You're welcome." Is the retort from Derek's desk chair.
Amber snorts, then without hesitation, glances back to my expression.
"So, what can you do?"
I stare back at her, trying to figure out what she's getting at. She's slapped a hand over her mouth, like she's just said something she wasn't supposed to.
"What can I do?" I wonder, trying to think of anything remarkable that could impress her, "I'm not exactly talented or anything. I used to take karate, so I can fight, but that's about it."
Amber rolls her eyes at me, like she thinks I'm playing some sort of joke on her. Derek is shooting her several different looks, while Creighton ignores her in favor of the laptop on the desk.
"Really, you can tell us," Amber steps toward me, smiling eagerly, "I know sometimes it's ... weird to talk about but ... I've probably heard of someone here who can do something a lot worse."
"I told you, I don't really do," I air quote, "anything. I took karate. I played video games back home. That's it."
"You're telling me you're not talented?" Amber presses, looking at me with wide eyes, "People come here because-"
"Amber!" Creighton ceases her typing, spinning around in her swiveling chair to glare ferociously at her roommate, "People come here to become the people they're meant to be, and not everyone knows what their talent is. Some of us have more obvious skills than others."
Amber's expression betrays her embarrassment when she looks at me again.
"I-" she squeaks, one hand flailing through the air, "Sorry. You're new, I shouldn't interrogate you."
"It's fine." I dismiss, taking in her skateboard and the helmet she still wears, "What's up with the board?"
Amber tilts her chin, as though readying herself for battle.
"I don't have a car," she says quickly, "I'm not old enough to have my license yet, and my parents ... they couldn't get me a bicycle like a lot of the other kids here. So, I got a skateboard."
"That's cool and all," I tell her, wondering why she's still wearing the helmet and glancing at the clock every few minutes, "but why don't you take that off?"
Amber takes a deep breath, like she's about to say something unpleasant and she needs the strength to get it over with.
"It's my first day of work. I have to be at my job in town by ten till ten, and I'm going straight there from here."
This throws me for a loop. She's here, with the rest of the wealthy kids. My businessman father is probably poorer than a lot of these students, but he'd never have dreamed of letting me get a job.
Why on earth would Amber get one? Why would her parents let her?
"Why would you waste your time on that?" I hear myself asking, "Your parents can get you whatever you want, so why bother with a job? Why waste your weekend with that?"
Derek's eyes go wide and Creighton, who had been clicking around on the laptop's screen, freezes in her tracks.
Amber's cheerful attitude disappears in an instant, and her face goes beet red with pure anger.
"Damn." Derek murmurs.
"Don't," Amber fumes, crossing the room in three strides, "assume things about me! Don't assume anything about anyone here, you uninformed jerk! Everyone here isn't rich! Mommy and Daddy can't help us all, can't throw money at us whenever we ask. Did you ever stop to think that boarding school doesn't always equate to wealth? No, of course you didn't!"
"I-" I stammer, but Amber's not finished.
"I'm on scholarship, you douche! I worked for everything I have, for everything I want. My hometown's an hour and a half from here, and this is the only nearby school I, yes I, could afford. I've been doing summer jobs since I was ten trying to save the money to go somewhere prestigious, and I had to give them all of my savings just to come here last year. If it wasn't for my GPA, I wouldn't be here right now! I'd still be stuck, trapped in my stupid small hometown with no chance of finding out who I am or what I can do. I'll 'waste my weekend' because I care about my future!"
I must have missed the hand motion that caused the sequence of events to unfold. I never remember seeing Amber's hand hit my nightstand, touch my alarm clock, but she must have. One second, my clock was safe and sound where it was meant to be, the next it was flying backward off the nightstand, hitting the wall and landing forcefully in several different pieces on the carpet.
When I look back to Amber, I find that she's still shaking with her rage.
Creighton gets to her feet, leaving her place at Derek's computer to close the distance to Amber.
"Amber! Breathe."
Ambber's gaze snaps to her roommate's expression, and she takes a deep breath.
Creighton is looking between me and Amber as though trying to format a proper explanation.
"I'm sorry," she finally manages, "Amber hates being dependent on a scholarship, and it drives her crazy when people assume her family has money. She's right, some boarding school students don't have rich parents."
Creighton glances over her shoulder at Derek, who shrugs and shakes his head.
"How much did you see ... Your clock-" he wonders, looking a bit paler than he should.
"I didn't see her do it," I explain, glancing at Amber as she regains control of her temper, "she probably just knocked it off. It's fine, I can get a new one or something. I'll just use the alarm on my phone. Really, it's fine. I've destroyed stuff before when I was angry."
I think I catch Derek mouthing "no, don't you dare tell him" to Creighton, but I convince myself to ignore what I think I see. Creighton and Derek keep looking at each other until Amber finds her voice again.
"Sorry," she tells me, "you didn't deserve that."
"Forget about it." I shrug, shooting her a reassuring smile.
Amber sighs.
"I should be heading out anyway. I should probably be early since it's my first day."
With that, she all but runs out of the room with the skateboard tucked under one arm.
Creighton temporarily disregards Derek's laptop, pouncing on the alarm clock that now lays in about ten pieces on the floor.
"Yep," she declares after a couple of minutes, "I think I can fix this one."
I frown at her.
"Nah, I'll just get a new one. Don't waste your time with it."
"Don't worry, I won't." Creighton asserts, "Projects never waste my time. This will give me something to do this weekend."
Derek rolls his eyes at her.
"Don't worry, Tim. I don't get it either. I'd probably make a larger mess out of the thing if I touched it." he says, the amusement conveyed in his tone.
Creighton leaves the disaster that is my alarm clock sitting on the center of my nightstand, turning her focus back to Derek's computer as the three of us dissolve into relative silence. It only takes her a little while to finish with his laptop.
Creighton lectures Derek on a handful of computer terms that I've barely even heard of. Then, matter-of-factly, she collects the pieces of my clock before leaving Derek and me for the solitude of her own room.
I spend the rest of the morning with Derek, trying to figure out the secretive glances he'd been shooting at Creighton during and after Amber's outburst.
They were hiding something, and vaguely I wondered what it was.