I've been at the Joseph Pulitzer School for Artistically Gifted Youth (yeah, you try saying that in one breath...) for less than a week, and already everybody hates me. Granted, I haven't spoken, interacted, or made eye contact with anyone, but no one else has done any of that for me, so the logical answer is that they hate me. So I hole myself up in the library during my free periods, reading, drawing, sleeping, doing anything that keeps me away from my dorm room. Away from my roommates. We haven't exchanged more than five words, but I don't like them much.
My three roommates are part of a rather exclusive clique. They are a large group of boys who all have stupid nicknames for one another and pretty much run everything in the school, from the newspaper and yearbook to the drama club to the lunchroom. They have a leader, some tall, big-headed, mildly attractive hotshot named Jack Kelly, otherwise known as "Cowboy." He's one of my roommates. Every girl in the school (that is, every girl that isn't a raging bull-dyke) wants to date him, and every guy wants to be him. And I'll tell you a little secret, if you promise never to tell anyone... I'm kind of one of those guys.
Jack's right-hand man is one Spot Conlon, also one of the three jackasses I've been forced to share my room with. I have no idea if he has an actual first name. He's short and kind of looks like a girl, and he's one cocky son of a bitch. And for some reason, the girls go absolutely ga-ga over him... and he loves to let everybody know it. He also loves to pick on random kids, no matter who they are. This kid is fucking crazy... no, he's beyond that. He defines the phrase "fucking crazy."
Third in command, I guess you could call him the left-hand man, is this obnoxious, loud-mouthed little squirt named Racetrack. He lives across the hall, but you wouldn't know it because he spends all his damned time in our room, making himself comfortable on my bed, whether I'm there or not. Much like Spot, he reputes himself to be a real ladies' man, but I'm pretty sure they're both gay.
Last in the link at the top of the food chain is David Jacobs. He's my other roommate, and he's Jewish, like me, so I guess we have something in common or something. Dave, or "the Walking Mouth," as the other guys call him, seems like a nice enough guy, but he never does anything or says anything on his own. He just tells his ideas to Jack and lets him run with them. It's kind of pathetic, really, but I guess it's kind of cute, because I'm pretty sure he's gay, too, and in love with Jack.
In fact, I'm pretty sure thatevery guy at this school is gay. I mean, just look at the name, for God's sake. It fucking screams homosexuality. Not that I see anything wrong with that. I'm about the straightest thing since Elton John. I'm just not as flamboyant as him.
Anyway, back to this stupid clique. There are a bunch more of these boys, and they all live in the same hall as me. They all have their dumb nicknames, and they're all loud and rambunctious and if they can help it, they never let Jack out of their sight. Which means they're constantly in my room, which means I never get any sleep and I never get any work done, which means I spend all my fucking time hiding out in the library.
But the rest of the boys are lower in the pecking order. For the most part, they're unimportant, insignificant. Except for him.