"Where's your schedule?" Racetrack asked after a long day of boring classes. Spot fished in his messenger bag and pulled out his slightly crumpled schedule. Race examined it, and his expression brightened. "You're my room mate! Cool!" Spot couldn't help giving a huge sigh of relief.
"Good. I was afraid I'd get stuck with Cowboy. It would be my luck!" Race laughed.
"You needn't have worried. Jack rooms with Kid Blink. My room mate left at the end of last year. He moved to Canada. I should've guessed you'd be in my dorm, but I didn't think about it."
Spot grinned, cheered at the prospect of
having a friend in his dorm and
not sharing a room with lustful!Jack.
He had a noticeable bounce in his step as they made their way to the dining hall for dinner.
"Laid claim to him, eh Racetrack?" said an all-too-familiar voice. Race and Spot both turned around to see Cowboy looking back at them. Cowboy gave Spot that longer-than-usual look, but he kept his hands to himself. Racetrack gave a short laugh at the idea.
"Get over it, Cowboy. This is one horse you're not going to ride." Spot grimaced at the innuendo that was screaming at him. "He's straight as an arrow." Jack laughed and rolled his tongue across his lips.
"You and I both know there's no such thing as 'straight' in this school," he replied, roughly. Spot frowned, jumping to defend his dignity.
"What are you talking about, Cowboy?" he snapped, roughly. Obviously amused at having the upper hand, Jack grinned.
"Oh, didn't dear Racetrack tell you?" He leaned down to whisper in Spot's ear. "A straight comes in, but he doesn't come out."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Spot asked, conscious of how close Jack was.
"No straight guy ever stays straight," Jack replied, and he nipped Spot's ear. Spot jerked away and glared at him, but Jack walked off with a smile.
"Ew. Ew ew ew ew ew. GROSS!" Spot squirmed, rubbing his ear. Racetrack shook his head.
"He's always been like that. He'll be like that till his last dying day," he muttered. Spot growled.
"Well, if he ever touches me again, I'll slug him. You done?" Spot added, setting aside his fork. Race nodded and stood up. They set their dishes over on the "drop off" table and left the dining hall.
"Crap," Race muttered. "I have to write that paper for Denton." Spot jerked his head up.
"We have a paper to write?" he shrieked, obviously concerned that he had forgotten. Race gave a wry smile.
"I do, you don't. This isn't the beginning of school, remember? You're a week late."
"Oh yeah…" Racetrack opened the door and entered the room, which was incredibly messy, just the way Spot liked it.
"Welcome home," he said. Spot glanced around the room. It was a lot like his room, except for the poker table in the corner. "You play poker?" Race asked. Spot nodded, eagerly.
"Yeah. That's one of the reasons my foster parents sent me here. Gambling and all that," he replied, dropping his stuff on the bottom bunk. Race laughed.
"Well, we can play any time you like," he said, sitting down in front of the computer. "And you can get on the computer whenever, assuming I'm not on. Specs and Dutchy, who're next door, have internet access, and I can get theirs from here. Just no porno or whatever," he added, making a face. Spot nodded and stretched out on his bed, talking while Race typed.
"What about the stereo?" he asked. Race glanced at it, then resumed typing.
"What kind of music do you like?" Race asked.
"I don't know. I never got to listen to music," Spot admitted. Racetrack spun in his seat and stared at Spot.
"No music!" he gasped. "You poor thing! Well, I'll teach you some culture. You'll like the best stuff in no time!" Race said, happy that Spot didn't conflict with his musical tastes. He clicked 'play' on the remote, and the "culture" poured out of the speakers.
"Broadways?" Spot asked, skeptically. Race grinned.
"I am a flamer," he said, twisting around in his chair to continue his work on his paper. Spot sat up, remembering what Jack said.
"Race?"
"Mmhmm?"
"What Cowboy said…Is it true?" Spot asked hesitantly.
Racetrack didn't answer.