CHAPTER 2

"I told you we should have come in sooner," Paris grumbled.

The dining hall was packed. She was amazed to see how many people showed up for breakfast, knowing that in a couple of weeks, the crowd dies down to a trickle as people forgo the meal for a few extra hours of sleep they missed cramming the night before or stragglers that have not eaten since the party they just emerged from. Rory never understood the fascination of a sit-down breakfast when she was contented putting a Pop-Tart in a toaster and calling it breakfast.

"Hey, someone's waving us to their table," Graham indicated, pointing a finger towards a couple of arms waving frantically in the air.

"You've got to be serious," Paris remarked.

Rory smiled. She was grateful to see the gaggle beckoning them over. "Unless you can pull a Houdini and have an empty table for us to occupy, your chances of getting a table is slim to none," she whispered to Paris.

"Hi guys!" Rory greeted as she and her posse walked toward the table. "Mind if we join you?"

"Are you kidding?" Marty responded, scooting his friends over to make room. A few mumbled in protest.

Graham and Rory muttered grateful thanks. Paris just kept mum.

"So, have you thought about joining the Breakfast Club yet?" Marty asked.

"Have you figured the hat and uniform combo yet?" Rory asked back.

"Hmm, not really. I guess we need to consult a fashionista for that. But we're still actively recruiting," Marty said. "So, who do you have in tow?"

"Well, you do remember Paris, my roommate from last year," Rory mentioned.

"Yes, I do remember. Hi, Paris," he greeted. "Guys, this is Paris."

A few mumbled hi's were said.

"And you all remember Rory," he added.

"So you're Rory," one of the guys at the end of the table whispered. Graham knitted his eyebrows in confusion.

"Yes, she is the one," Marty confirmed with a blush. "I was graced with Rory's robe when she caught me passed out in front of her dorm room, naked and locked out," he explained to Graham.

"Oh, you're naked guy!" Graham replied. "You're a legend in our dorm!"

"I told you, Rory. Forever in the halls of Yale, I will be known as "naked guy"," Marty dramatically expressed.

"There are worse things to be remembered for, buddy. Like the toilet paper guy or something as moronic. You can spin the whole tale by saying you're well endowed. Before you know it, you'll be the John Holmes of Branford College," Rory shrugged.

"Thanks for making me feel good," Marty said, scooping a spoonful of his Cheerios from his bowl into his mouth.

Graham just chuckled.

"I don't feel like eating anymore," Paris said to Rory.

"Why now?" Rory asked.

"Because I know those guys at the end of the table," Paris replied, "and let's say that I wasn't that nice to them when school started this semester."

"What did you do?" Rory whispered back.

"I, uhm...." She stalled. "I kicked them out of their seats because I needed to get the best learning energy through feng shui. And they sat there.... So I told them to park their butts elsewhere."

"Paris!" Rory responded, her eyes bugging from her head. "You have to stop doing that!"

"I know, I know. I just don't know when to quit being bossy," Paris mumbled like a girl with her hand caught in the cookie jar.

"Eventually, you're going to have them in another class or worse, work with them in the operating room!" Rory scolded.

"Hey, I already feel bad, okay? Just finish eating so we can get back to our room," Paris ended the conversation, attacking her French toast with passion.

Rory sighed and started eating her jam and toast.

"So," Rory said to Graham, "how come it's only now you've reared your head at my door?"

"Well, that's your fault," Graham replied, wiping the excess maple syrup off of his lips. "You didn't tell me which hall you're residing in or which room you're going to be at. I had to search the directory just to locate you."

"I'm sorry. I've just been too busy!" Rory apologized. "The first week was so hectic and the second week... well, I already have a quiz coming up."

"Uh huh," Graham eyed her. "Excuses, excuses. I tried to see if someone would switch classes with me so that we could be in the same class."

"No luck?" Rory asked.

"No luck," Graham confirmed.

"There'll be other semesters," Rory sighed.

"Not unless you're going to be in politics," Graham reminded her.

"Or you become a journalist," Rory said.

"Hmm, me and writing are not friends," Graham admitted, wrinkling his nose.

"Me and politics aren't either," Rory commented. "Although that might be a problem if I was doing a piece dealing with politics."

"So, we're going to be limited to social meeting halls and food facilities?" Graham questioned sadly.

"Unfortunately... Unless you can sponsor a class that would have us talking like scholars and yet the topics would be limited to the imbecilic comings and goings of pop culture," Rory responded.

"Hey, if the University of Washington could sponsor classes that discuss The Matrix movie or Memento, we can justify a class in pop culture," Graham defended.

"Oh, the optimistic Graham strikes again. You sure you want to be in politics?" Rory questioned.

"Yeah. Why not?" Graham asked.

"You're going to be eaten alive by sharks!" Rory indicated.