The room was bigger than I would have anticipated.

I was alone at the moment, and I threw my bag onto the floor and collapsed onto the bed on the right, looking up at the ceiling. I could hear talking out the window, footsteps on the hallways, heavy and garish. Sun filtered in through the half drawn curtains, casting a bright yellow glow into the room, though the edges were still blurred in darkness.

Even half-shrouded in shadow, the room had an air of optimism for me, and I took it all in, let it fill me up until everything was ready to burst.

This was a brand new start. It was is if I could move past my previous twenty-five years, as if I could take everything and do something with it. With everything I had been blessed with, as mom always complained, I had wasted it on petty crime, drinking and fighting. When she would get calls from the police station late at night, she would cry as she drove me home, asking me why I was so stupid if I was so smart? She would ask me if I was trying to spite her. She'd ask me if I was trying to embarrass her.

She asked me why I wasn't like Sam.

That was the one question that always got me to break down, and I would cry all night after that, long after mom had gone to bed.

She should have known that I could never be like Sam. Sam's birthday wasn't the anniversary of her husband's death, wasn't the anniversary of his father's death. Every year until I was eleven, mom wouldn't celebrate my birthday. Not a present crossed my hands, not even a half-hearted sentiment or card. She forbid Sam from doing anything for me. She didn't want us to be happy when she was so upset.

When I was twelve, she apologized, and she would make me a cake, but she'd always give me a party weeks after my birthday had passed. After I turned sixteen, she would only celebrate my birthday if she was around, and she rarely was. Between the ages of sixteen and twenty-five I only had four parties.

Sam always had a party, at least until he moved out when he was seventeen. He had everything I had never gotten. She put effort into his parties, she was always smiling, and everyone from our neighborhood and all his friends were invited. It always broke my heart, and I never stayed downstairs to watch.

She had never given me the chance to be like Sam.

She bragged about him to her friends. She rarely ever mentioned me. She was always so disappointed in me; that I didn't have any friends, that I didn't act like all the other kids my age, why I didn't like what everyone else did, why I stayed home all the time. She loved the grades I brought home, but she loved Sam's girlfriends and commendations and awards more, and I was always brushed aside.

When Sam moved out when I was eleven years old, I was without anyone. After Sam jumped ship to get out of the house and as far away from our broken mother and family as he could, mom stopped staying home regularly, taking jobs that had her travelling most of the time, and she always called our closest neighbor to come over and make sure I kept out of trouble. When I turned sixteen, she stopped calling people to watch me as if she were embarrassed of me.

When she was home, I was always getting into trouble, getting arrested the only way she would pay attention to me, but it was a horrific catch-22. The more trouble I got myself into, the more she would pay attention to me, but then when she would leave, she'd stay away longer.

I knew she couldn't take the direction my life was heading towards. I knew it broke her heart to see me that way. I knew it hurt her more than it hurt me that day she took me to the hospital two days after she got back because I had broken my arm in a fight. I knew she felt guiltier than I did when she had to bail me out of the county jail after I got caught trying to steal alcohol from a liquor store not twenty minutes from our house. When Uncle Frank moved into our farmhouse when he thought he'd be able to teach me a lesson, I knew it broke her heart when I drove my father's car off the edge of that canyon.

She always looked at me with those sad, broken blue eyes, a dull copy of my own, dimmed by years of sorrow and disappointment. And every time she brought me to the hospital, bailed me out of jail, met with the principal of the high school, she would shake her head and ask me the same thing: Why can't you be like your brother?

And I never answered her. I always just looked out the window of the car, refusing to meet her gaze. I knew she was crying, I could hear her sobbing, even if she didn't think I could. But I would never let her see me cry.

And I could never understand why she couldn't love me like she did my brother.

Even after I got into college, a better university than the one Sam had gone too. Even after I graduated a year and a half early. Nothing I could do would make her love me, could make her wish me happy birthday on my actual birthday, or see me or how much I hurt.

I didn't want to get caught crying, so I pushed myself off the mattress and started unpacking what little I had brought with me and the uniforms I had been supplied with. I had spent quite a bit on them, and was really starting to run low on money, but I had seen a bar just outside of the campus where I could probably hustle some money at pool. I sighed, hearing my mother's disapproving voice in my head, and slammed a drawer shut.

Just then, the door opened and someone walked in, hands held up defensively, a half-amused, half-cautious smile spread across his face.

"Hey, man. Should I come 'round later?" His heavy Southern accent, thicker than Leonard's, made me smile.

"No, it's okay. Drawer was stuck. I just persuaded it." I joked, and he laughed and walked in a little further, dropping his stuff on the side of the room that I hadn't claimed. I kicked my bag under the bed, having finished putting everything away and leaving a few things inside he shouldn't see. "Jim Kirk." I said then, holding out my hand. He took it and I couldn't believe how weak his handshake was. I smiled inwardly at that.

"Gary Mitchell." He responded and I broke the handshake, watching him shake his hand and rub it gently. "Damn your grip is strong." He said, laughing. I responded in kind before answering.

"Grew up on a farm."

"Figured." Gary replied, laughter still in his voice. "Where you from, farm boy?"

"Iowa." I answered, following Gary with my eyes as he unpacked, making a huge mess.

"Iowa?" He asked, turning around to stare at me. "What the Hell is there in Iowa?"

"Nothin'. Why do you think I'm here?"

Gary chuckled at that. I tried to smile more convincingly, but thinking about Iowa, about my home, really upset me. I ran my fingers through my hair roughly, snagging a knot, and the sharp pain ripped me away from reminiscing.

"Where are you from?" I asked haphazardly, trying to further the conversation from revolving around me.

"Eldman." He commented over his shoulder, digging through his belongings for something. I couldn't quite remember where that was, so I refrained from saying something about it.

"Hey, I was thinking about hitting up that bar later tonight. You want to come along?" I asked after a few moments of amused silence, just listening to him talk to himself about whatever it was he was searching for.

"Yeah, sure." He answered, though he was distracted, and I couldn't be sure if he even knew what I had asked. He was still looking through his stuff.

"Seriously, what the Hell are you looking for?" I quipped, finally fed up with the pathetic way he was making a huge mess of the entire room.

"This little box, you know, wrapped in blue paper." He answered, trying to convey the size of it to me with his hands. I just shook my head and laughed, pointing to the bathroom. God knows how it ended up there, but it made me laugh. You always lose the things in plain sight mom said to me once. "Thanks." He said, quickly retrieving it and ripping it open.

I walked up and peered over his shoulder and he laughed and shoved me back.

"Hey, what is it?" I asked sheepishly, a lopsided grin on my face. I saw it briefly in the mirror, and I smiled a little more; I hadn't seen myself smile in a while.

"Pictures of my girlfriend." Gary said defensively.

"Oh?" I commented, knowing what he meant. I playfully tried to look over his shoulder again and he laughed, shutting the box.

"Am I going to have to lock this away?" Gary asked mockingly.

"You just might." I replied. I took a look at the clock. It was starting to get late and I knew all the bar hounds with all the money and the alcoholics would be there now. Perfect crowd. "You want to head out?" Gary nodded and we left the dorm complex, managing to catch a couple of girls with a car on their way out. I had more luck charming them into letting us hitch a ride and I knew Gary was jealous and I laughed. He just didn't know that I had an advantage; I knew what to say for a woman to give in.

Turned out they were going to the same bar we were and the brunette behind the wheel drove fast and I loved it, though it seemed to make Gary a little uncomfortable and I nudged him mockingly a few times he started to look real green. Thankfully he waited until we got to the bar before throwing up into a dumpster and I laughed as I escorted the two girls into the bar.

I was right about the crowd. There were too many potential victims and I couldn't help but smile. The girls slipped away to get something to drink and I headed towards the billiard tables, and before I could even say a word, one guy asked to play me and I looked at him, feigning incredulity with a cocked eyebrow.

"What? Me? I'm not too good at this." I said laughing. "But sure."

The guy threw a five on the edge of the table and I looked at him, pretending to be nervous. I threw down a five of my own and played a game that was believably bad. I played a few of his friends and ended up losing almost everything I had brought with me.

Just then, six or seven guys walked into the bar and headed over towards the guy that I had lost to. They exchanged a few looks and laughed, looking over to me every once in a while. I only caught parts of the conversation, one of my favorite things to hear being the comment that I was an easy game and I wasn't afraid to bet, even after having lost. This was working far too perfectly.

The guy came over and I talked big, getting an amused smile from the guy I lost to earlier. I tried to play off like I hadn't lost the last four games and bet one hundred dollars that I could beat the new guy. A few people nearly spit their drinks from trying not to laugh at me and the new guy agreed. A few other people put money down, just wanting to embarrass me, or try to call my bluff. I continued my act and by the time we set up the game, somewhere around three hundred dollars was on that table.

I let myself pretend to act a little nervous and excused myself to get a drink, thankfully finding Gary by the bar.

"Hey, do me a favor?" I whispered, leaning in close.

"What? You want me to bail you out?" When I looked at him confused, he continued. "I've been watching you play. Man, you suck." I laughed at that.

"Actually, I was wondering if you would accompany me. I've been hustling these guys and I want you to pocket the money as soon as I win and run. I know there's going to be a fight and I don't want to lose my earnings." I explained with a laugh in a muted voice.

"I knew there was a reason I liked you. You have a death wish, don't you?"

"Probably. So will you do it?"

"Sure. It'd be more fun than sitting here watching." Gary answered, laughing and pushing himself up off the bar.

"Alright, guys. Ready?" I asked, picking up a cue.

It didn't take long for the people I played before to realized what game I was playing, and I signaled Gary to come over and he started to pocket the money secretly and soon I sank the last ball and won the game without even trying. The guy I played paled, then flushed in anger, and strangely enough, the first punch he threw was at the guy who told him to play me. For a minute I didn't know what to do with myself, but then the other's that realized what I'd played them for finally threw a punch in my direction. Gary had already snuck off, laughing all the way, and I fought off one or two of the drunken idiots before managing to squirrel away.

I found Gary standing outside, holding his sides.

"Man, that was one Hell of a fight. That guy that caught you square in the jaw, holy shit!"

I rubbed that spot, having just been reminded of the wound after blocking it out. I locked and unlocked my jaw, moving it side to side. It wasn't broken. Good start.

"I know. But let's get the Hell out of here before they chase me all the way back to campus."

The whole ride back Gary eyed me with jealousy, having gotten another girl to give us a ride back.

"How do you do that? You're like… catnip for women or something!" Gary remarked in a hushed tone from the backseat. I couldn't help but laugh and the blonde driving looked at me then Gary suspiciously. I leaned over and whispered something meaningless in her ear and tried not to laugh when she swerved the car slightly in shock and when Gary shot me the most unbelievable look that screamed 'teach me how to do that!'.

I sat back in the seat and again watched the campus, brightly lit, coming up in front of us.