Jeff Sterling had officially survived his first day at Dalton. Or so he thought.
He walked out of his last class relieved and headed toward his room.
"Wait!"
Jeff turned around startled. It was Trent.
"Hey, you left class so quickly! I was going to ask, I mean, cause I heard you were in the glee club at your old school..."
Where had he heard that? How much else did he know.
"...If you wanted to come audition for the Warblers."
Jeff shrugged his shoulders and looked down at the floor.
Trent continued none the less, "we're always looking for new members, you should join...or at least try out or something. You know last year we..."
Trent trailed off as Jeff stared at the carpet, suddenly very interested in the patterns on the floor. He had heard the kids at McKinley talking about the Warblers. Stiff competition apparently.
His thoughts stopped when Trent shoved a brochure under his nose, waving it furiously until Jeff took it.
On the front stood three boys looking far more cheery than necessary, notes and treble clefs flying in ridiculous directions behind their heads and Warbler birds sitting in the corner; all together under the hideously yellow title "WHY BE A WARBLER?"
Jeff smiled politely to Trent, shoved the brochure in his bag and headed toward his room.
He arrived back at the familiar door and this time wasted no time in opening it and entering. His brief moment of courage however, suddenly diminished when he saw Nick sitting inbetween the two beds, lining up rows of empty shampoo bottles.
He hadn't seen Nick since the David incident in the morning and now was about ten times more confused about his roommate. He desperately wanted to ask what the bottles were for.
Nick turned around to face him, a grin spreading over his face.
"Did you get any homework today?"
Jeff shook his head.
"Good! Come here!"
Jeff put his books down on his desk and walked over tentatively. Nick pulled out a box from under his bed that was overflowing with a variety of paint tubes.
"So we got red and blue and green. But we can make purple. So then if we have four colours and about twenty people playing, that means five people to a colour, so five people to a team."
Jeff sat down on the bed next to Nick, as began arranging the shampoo bottles, or "guns" as he insisted on calling them, into groups of five.
"Do you want to play...because some of the guys were wondering if you wanted to" Nick asked.
"I...I don't know what..."
"Paint war! Like paint ball. But less ball. Each team has a colour, the one that gets the most paint on everyone else wins! Oh, but if you get any of your ammo on the walls or the carpet or anywhere on the most glorious halls of Dalton, points are deducted...and teachers get really mad. Oh and by the way if any teacher spots you, game over."
Jeff sat on the bed, feeling extremely awkward and unsure of what to say. He began picking at the duvet as Nick mixed the water with paint and began funnelling the liquid into the various bottles.
This went on for a full ten minutes. Jeff grew increasingly anxious. He couldn't watch anymore so he got up and walked over to his desk.
Nick eyed him carefully as he sat down and took out his schoolwork.
Jeff set his copy of Hamlet down on the desk and opened up to a random page. He read the first line over and over and over, hoping Nick would forget about him.
Nick stared over at the blonde boy curiously. He kept watching as Jeff scanned over the play.
The room was silent. Nick couldn't bare it. He was too excited about tonight's events.
"You haven't turned the page in like...fifteen minutes."
Jeff turned to look at him.
"Where are you up to?"
Jeff didn't answer. Nick scoffed and suddenly grabbed one of the bottles in his hand, spraying purple all over the window.
Jeff eyes widened as Nick began laughing madly.
"I knew these were better than water guns...I have to tell Thad!"
Nick bolted out of the room, bottle in hand as he skipped down the corridor.
Jeff got out of his chair and walked toward the window, now dripping in a perfect circle of purple paint. Surprisingly, none had gotten on the curtains. Years of practice, Jeff assumed.
