Chapter 3: The Dealer, the Disciplinarian and the Dumbasses

I pulled my coat tight around me and exhaled into my palms as I waited for someone to come. I wasn't exactly in the nicest side of Minneapolis and I wasn't exactly meeting one of the nicest people. His name was Joe, supposedly. And my name was 'Anthony' supposedly. I never ever gave out my real name to people like this. I was Anthony Wright, just an eighteen year old trying to find life's well worn path in all the wrong places before going off to New York University.

I would always use the same story. Always.

"You Anthony?" Some lanky, teenage guy with a mess of black and blue hair asked me as he tapped my shoulder.

I nodded and together we walked into an alley beside the corner store we were in front of. "You got the stuff?"

He licked his chapped lips and nodded. "You got the cash?"

I nodded and pulled a wad of paper bills out of my back pocket and handed it to him. "Where's the stuff?" I asked expectantly and stared him straight in the eyes.

He took of his leathery gloves and took my hand, as if we were shaking hands. This guy was different than the other people I had met with. I nodded and he quickly walked away. I shoved the stuff in my pants pocket and casually walked out of the alley.

I reached into my back pocket to see how much more money I had with me. I was going to have to break some of the large bills I 'borrowed' from my brother, but a corner store didn't exactly seem like the place to do that, but I needed a cigarette really bad.

The bell from above the door rang and I immediately walked to the corner and put my fake ID down. It was a really good one too. My good friend of mine back in the school I went to in D.C. really was an artist when it came to these things. Life is all about making good connections.

The second I got out of the store I opened the carton carefully and balanced the stick between my lips as I fumbled for my lighter. I clicked the lighter and breathed in. That felt better. God damn brother, throwing out my stuff that I bought...uh... borrowed... from my roommate. I exhaled as I walked toward the bus stop, checking my watch. Curfew was at 10. I might as well be on time the first day I was here.

I tossed my second cigarette beside the iron gates as Eden Hall came into view. It looked even bigger at night. I wasn't exactly sure why, but it did. And with that, a feeling of impending doom washed over me; however I was used to this feeling. I always get that feeling as I walk into a new school.

I trudged over through the snow, dragging my feet and looking up at the sky. I may be a rebellious son-of-a-bitch but I do take time and stare at the finer things in life, like stars for example.

"Mr. Banks!"

I jumped and spun around a couple times in the dark until I saw who was calling me. God-damn it! Buckley.

"Mr. Banks, come here." He said waving in hand, gesturing that I should join him on the path. I frowned and stomped through the snow and onto the shoveled sidewalk. He put a hand on my shoulder and looked down at our feet. "Mr. Banks, what is this?"

I looked over at him and frowned. "What is what exactly?" I asked completely confused. This guy was a nut case. "Look, its 9:50, I'm not late; you can't give me detention." I replied quickly trying to escape from his grasp.

He shook his head. "No Mr. Banks. This is a path. I would like you to walk on it."

I raised an eyebrow. "This is about me not walking on the grass?"

"Walk on the path the brilliant minds before you walked upon. Follow their footsteps and you can't go wrong." He smiled and nodded. "Goodnight Mr. Banks." He then promptly dropped his hand from my shoulder and continued down the path towards the Dean's house that was near the back of the property.

I blinked and looked around and continued on the path towards the Boy's dorm. That guy was a real wack-job and seriously needs some anti-psychotics or something.

I couldn't believe that he was the person Mimi had trusted my raw mind that was in desperate need to be molded with him. With my luck my mother probably did have compromising pictures of him with some of the guys here. I pondered this as I climbed the stairs to the third floor.

As I reached the second floor a puck, that seemed to be going five thousand miles per hour, flew past my head and bounced of the wall and ricocheted down the stairs. I immediately fell to my knees and covered my head. What the hell was going on? This place was a zoo!

I slowly got off my knees and heard the sounds of persons running toward the stairs. A pair of heads peeked into the stairs. Both with jet black hair, one of which was slicked back and the other was loose and long and both were wearing bandanas. I stood up straight and put an angry frown on my face. God, your classic Neanderthals. "What the fuck do you think you're doing, you idiots?! Are you completely stupid or do you actually understand that it was a bone-headed thing to shoot pucks into a staircase?!" I yelled at them.

They stepped into plain view and I realized they were a whole lot bigger than I had expected. I swallowed. Ok, so I rebel against my parents but picking fights with a pair of guys twice my size was something I don't do. I learned that back when I was ten and I was thrown into a pile of trash by some thug who was protecting a group of not even mediocre, scrawny hockey players, with my old best friends.

As a matter of fact, the shorter of the two Neanderthals looked a lot like the guy who threw me in trash. I squinted at him. It couldn't be. He was poor and was a nobody. He didn't have friends; he only had enemies and allies. I wouldn't be surprised if he were dead or a druggie.

They didn't seem to move much more, so I scowled at them and continued up the stairs. Stupid school. Stupid students. Stupid idiotic hockey players who took too many hockey pucks to the head. It was a stupid sport. Any sport that involved body armor deserved to be outlawed.

I huffed as I reached my door, pushing through the freshmen students and unlocking my door and pushing it open, hard enough so it hit the wall, shaking the objects in the room slightly.

"Anthony?"

I blinked and saw that it was the dealer from before. "Jim?" I asked raising both eyebrows and blinking nervously.

"Not exactly." He replied, his brow furrowing. "The name is Drake. Jim is just my cover. Are you my new roommate?"

I closed the door behind me and walked over to my bed and he sat on the edge of his bed, letting his long legs sprawl across the floor. "I'm Adam. I never give my real name out to dealers and I guess I'm your new roommate."

He grinned and reached to shake my hand. "Awesome. This is going to be so much better than my last roommate."

I shook his hand and grinned. "Well I'm glad." I smirked.

"Yeah, little Asian dude flipped out when he saw me smoking in the room. He put on this holier than thou act until I told him that if he said anything I would give an anonymous tip on who let the fire ants out on the Varsity hockey team." He laughed. "Should've seen his face."

I smirked. "Very smooth." This was going to be great. I'm already making connections. If I buddy up with my roommate I won't have to worry about my personal 'needs' from here on out. I got up and opened my suitcase and began to pull some of my clothes out to put in the dresser that was supplied to me and in the closet. I always unpack even though I know that I won't be in one place for long. If I didn't unpack, it would seem suspicious.

"Oh, and if anyone asks where I am and I'm not here, say I'm at my job delivering pizzas." He said repositioning himself on his bed and picking up a magazine off the nightstand. "It's code and cover okay?"

I nodded. I already like this guy.

"Oh, and Alan's coming over soon so you should leave before he arrives."

I frowned and continued to unpack. "Why?"

He paused for a second then snickered. "Because I don't think you exactly swing that way. I mean your look screams 'repressed gay guy' but your mannerisms scream straight."

I spun around and frowned at the black and blue haired boy on his bed, still flipping through a car magazine like what he just revealed was nothing. "You're gay?"

He nodded and licked his thumb and flipped the page. "Yup. If you have a problem with it, you should go and apply for a room change."

I shook my head and swallowed. "No, I don't have a problem with it; I have roomed with a gay guy before, it's just that it took him a week before he actually told me."

Drake shrugged and put the magazine down on his lap. "Look, Adam. I figured that it would be stupid to hide it from you. You would either catch me in the act, which would be extremely embarrassing ending up with one of us switching rooms because we can't look at each other the same way, you figuring it out on your own which will make you feel upset and betrayed or you'll hear something from someone which would end up with the same outcome."

I rolled my eyes. "Betrayed?" I scoffed as I shoved some socks into a drawer. "I don't even know you."

"Yet." He added. "You don't know me yet." He sighed and I heard the ruffling of a magazine again. "You're fairly stereotypical you know. I mean, right down to the assuming that you won't get to know anyone here, not even the person you're sharing close quarters with. You really have the preppy badass act down pact. Bravo."

"Thanks for labeling me." I snapped at him as I grabbed couple pairs of khaki pants and shoved them into the bottom drawer of the dresser and kicked the drawer closed. I turned around and stared at him as he ran a hand through his blue streak of hair and rested his head on his arm against the wall.

He sighed and continued to read the magazine. "But that's what keeps me sane Adam. Don't spoil my fun."

I shook my head at my crazy roommate and grabbed my backpack that was thrown by the foot of my bed filled with a couple books and a CD player. "Okay whatever. What time should I come back?"

"Midnight. He should be gone by then." He replied with a shrug.

I slung the bag over my shoulder and walked toward the door gripping the handle and pushing it open.

"Oh, and be careful of the jocks downstairs. Some of the hockey goons like to shoot pucks into the stairway." He scoffed and shook his head. "Idiots."

I laughed and smirked. "I already know."
I trudged down in the TV room that was open to all the guys in the dormitory. It was fairly empty, except for a few people. A blonde boy in the corner scribbling away at a note at a lone table in a corner and a geeky red haired kid with glasses sitting in front of the TV flipping channels a mile a minute muttering to himself 'stupid re-runs'.

I frowned and sat on the other side of the other side of the couch and sat my backpack on the floor and opened my bag, setting my CD player out and pulling out a dog eared copy of a book, 'The Picture of Dorian Grey' by Oscar Wilde. My family urges me to read books that will inspire me to be the better person than what I am. I avoid those books. More than once I have gotten a book with writing in the cover with those very words, tarnishing the novel and making me avoid it like the plague.

I like classic books and I'm not exactly sure why. Maybe it's the fact that some are gritty and break the molds of that time, as I eventually want to do in the present.

"Hey." The guy beside me said turning his attention away from the television that he has given up on. "What class are you reading that for?"

I looked over the binding at his brown eyes that were still full of warmth and vitality. "It's not for a class." I replied through gritted teeth. I hate when people bother me when I'm obviously focusing on something, for example, one of my favorite books that I'm reading for the fifth time.

"Oh." He replied. "I'm Les, but everyone calls me Averman. I haven't seen you around before."

I considered using my fake name, but I figured it would get messy if I was in one of his classes or something. As much as I like drama and trouble, I would rather it over big spectacular things, for example, setting a firecracker off in the middle of lunch, not over a case of mistaken identity. "Adam Banks and I just started coming here."

He smiled and continued talking as I tried to refocus on my book. "That's cool. Do you need help or anything? I mean, directions or hints or anything?"

"Fine thanks." I muttered and buried myself in my book.

"Are you sure..."

"Averman! Leave the guy alone and be quiet! I'm trying to write something here." The blonde guy in the corner yelled at the red headed kid.

His eyes rolled behind his thick glasses. "Yeah; another forgive me letter to Connie! If you wanted peace and quiet, you should've written it in your room."

The blonde guy scoffed. "Yeah, like I can really write a sensitive letter to her with the Bash Brother's music pounding through the paper thin walls."

"You couldn't write a sensitive letter to her with classical music being played around you Guy." The red haired kid shot back and rested his head in his hand. "Besides isn't that why she broke up with you in the first place?"

And with that comment they began arguing with each other a hundred words per minute. I rolled my eyes and shoved my book in my bag and shoved my headphones in my ears and rushed up the stairs to the third floor.

I would rather sit outside my door until the wee hours of the morning then spend it between Dumb and Dumber downstairs.

Morons.