A/N: It's not customary in Argentinian culture to wear a sombrero. It's mostly a Mexican tradition. I don't want to disrespect any cultures. I didn't realize my mistake until yalale23 pointed it out. So now I will add in Shawn's story of how he ended up with a sombrero in another chapter.
Love is Like A Baseball Bat - The College Years
Chapter Two: Hazed and Confused
Helga had been kept waiting for four hours in the lobby of City Hall. Gerald had been playing games on his phone, texting Phoebe like nothing was going on, and napping.
Helga had been holding onto the envelope so long she had very thin paper cuts in the wrinkles of her palms.
When someone of higher jurisdiction was finally able to see Helga and Gerald, it was nothing like she expected. Judge Watson seemed to young to be a judge. He looked to be in his early forties and he still had all of his brunette curls. Weren't most judges old, wrinkled and bitter?
His voice reminded Helga of an over-enthusiastic tv host, "What can I do for you today?"
"We need our marriage to be declared null and void," Helga handed over the papers. His gray eyes looked over the forms, flipping to the next page every few seconds.
"Oh, I see, the marriage was performed in the Bahamas. And you were given a marriage certificate?"
"It's in the file." Helga crossed her arms over her chest, "I'm pretty sure it's not even real."
Gerald nodded along, still staying silent. After Helga had screamed at him in the car, he wasn't much up for talking to her.
The judge pulled it out and laughed, "This may be legal by Bahamian standars, but this is not according to U.S. Law." Helga and Gerald both heaved another sigh of relief.
They weren't even married. Not even close.
Judge Watson stamped the papers with a red-ink covered rubber stamp declaring everything NULL & VOID. "Sorry for making you wait. Have a good day."
Helga couldn't help but dance in front of her car as she unlocked it. She was feeling good for the first time in almost three days.
Gerald buckled his seat belt and smiled at Helga, "Wanna stop at Slausen's? I haven't eaten since we got back."
"It better be your treat, Geraldo. After putting me through this horrific scenario, you owe me."
"Fine. Just drive, honey."
The Ol' Betsy punched Gerald's shoulder.
"So when are we going to tell them?"
Helga tensed, "Soon. How about Tuesday, after work?"
"Why not Monday?"
"Mondays are the worst day of the week, do you want to make it even more awful?"
Gerald sighed, "I guess you're right. Tuesday it is."
Arnold would know that sound from anywhere, the unmissable hollow bounce of a ping pong ball on uncarpeted floor.
His eyes had adjusted to the dark. None of the players had moved from their back-to-back circle, so Arnold had been staring at the same shadowed spot for almost forty minutes. Music had been playing and the floor above them shook.
Flashing lights and loud sounds suddenly flooded into the basement, followed by the three seniors: Logan, Michael (#29, pitcher) and Adam (#26, outfield).
"Tonight we'd like to welcome you to college," Logan's voice was strained from shouting over the music.
"Just remember what we talked about earlier," Michael added as Adam began leading the kids upstairs.
As soon as Arnold made it to the ground floor, he felt nails dig into his back and pull him aside.
"Aww, look, the freshman's so cute," a girl in high-waisted jean shorts and a neon yellow tank top smiled. Her black hair fell in her face and down most of her body.
Arnold said nothing, but watched the group of six girls surround him, shaking up paint-filled pens. "Don't move." Arnold shut his eyes at the contact of the paint pens to his skin. It was cold.
Another girl's nails dug into his chest and he heard her laugh, "What a cute tattoo."
Was everything cute to them?
He felt her wrist against his skin as she drew around the poem lines. He had no idea what kind of paint this was, how long it'd take for him to dry, or if he'd die from so much on his skin.
After standing in the doorway of the basement with girls drawing all over him for twenty minutes, they finally stopped. The girls had covered his entire upper body, neck and forehead with doodles. Of what, Arnold didn't know. He was too afraid to look, really. They could be vulgar, or. . .cute.
"Save me a dance, loverboy!" Neon Yellow Tanktop winked and high-fived Michael before disappearing into the living room. The main hallway was full of long beer pong tables decorated with Gamecocks colors and their team mascot: Cocky, the fighting rooster.
Michael handed Arnold a red Solo cup. "Cheers to college, kid."
Arnold looked hesitantly at the cup, only to feel his suspicions confirmed. The team had cut a small hole in the bottom of the cup. Arnold smiled at his teammate, "Thanks."
"You gotta loosen up. This is the only time you'll have to do this. I mean, it's not like we're telling you all to JUMP or anything."
Arnold grit his teeth and jumped into the air.
Everyone laughed at the thirteen "kiddies," as they were being referred to. As if this wasn't humiliating enough.
Arnold walked into the kitchen, where the keg was. He watched Kyle pump the beer for everyone. He smiled at the ladies, even if it earned him a glare from their dates. Arnold sighed and held his cup forward, attaching his finger through the hole. Kyle nodded and began filling.
"How you holdin' up?"
"I'd rather be doing this than be you," Kyle pointed to Arnold's body.
"I haven't really looked yet, is it bad?"
Kyle pointed to Arnold's bellybutton, "LICK MY NAVEL."
"Wonderful."
"Lighten up and get drunk. We're here for the weekend, might as well drink all their expensive alcohol."
"Time for the kiddies to do SHOTS!"
Arnold didn't know who screamed it, but he followed Kyle into the living room. A beer pong table was set up with twenty-six shot glasses, clear ones on the left and dark colored ones resting on pint glasses on the right side.
"On your knees, boys." Logan stood on the couch, smirking down at them. All of the other party goers started cheering. Arnold could see Neon Yellow from the other side of the room. She winked.
"First up is something a little tame for you babes, Absolut. Followed by my personal favorite, Jägerbombs." The room continued to cheer, but Logan silenced them with a wave. "Oh, before I forget, keep your hands down."
Kyle was first. He was pretty tall and managed to wrap his lips around the shot glass easily, tipping it back with almost no effort. He coughed violently before taking the glass out of his mouth. Everyone else imitated Kyle's movements, but some were less coordinated.
Once Arnold got the taste of pure alcohol out of his mouth, he was already feeling something warm in his stomach. He hadn't eaten very much that day. It felt good, especially since the house was kept incredibly cold and he was shirtless.
The kiddies got around to the other side of the table. "This time you can use your hands," Logan smiled. "Go!"
Everyone dropped their shots of Jäger into the pint of Red Bull and chugged. Arnold was the first to finish.
"Woah, Arnold! You're a pro! I think this kid needs some Dr Pepper!"
The other party goers began hollering as Arnold shook his head. Dr. Pepper? Why would he need a chaser now?
Tanner - #19, junior, infield - picked Arnold up and walked him to the kitchen. Tanner began pulling out different bottles of alcohol and poured them into the shot. He did this slowly, as if it was an art he needed to perfect. He then whipped out a pint glass and filled it with beer from the keg.
Arnold watched in awe as Tanner flicked his lighter on top of the shot, causing it to burst into flame. "Drop it in the beer and chug," Tanner instructed as he pulled out his cell phone.
Arnold sighed. This was going to kill him. He dropped it in and waited for the flames to go out before chugging it. It tasted similar to the Dr. Pepper soda, although the burn of alcohol killed that taste shortly after.
Arnold stood at the counter, his hands beginning to grow incredibly warm. He drank a lot of alcohol in the span of ten minutes.
The music seemed to get louder and everyone crowded around the living room to dance. The shot table was removed and kids were grinding like it was any ol' club. Flashing lights kept Arnold's attention for a few minutes, he watched them spin around the darkened room.
He felt good. For the first time in a long time his side felt okay and he felt relaxed.
Logan came up and slapped him on the back. The sound of skin-on-skin contact was louder than the pain Arnold felt. "How you holding up?"
Arnold nodded, "Good. Yeah, I feel really. . .good."
"Well, just wait until you feel great!"
One of the girls who drew on him pulled him onto the dance floor. Arnold's natural rhythm took over and he danced in the mob for what seemed like hours. It had only been one, but that had been enough time for the other freshman to get bombed.
"Arnold's the most sober," Kyle said, words slurring as he pointed his finger to the dance floor.
Logan laughed, "Somebody get this kid a Blow Job!"
Arnold turned around, eyes wide, "What?"
Neon Yellow Tank Top grinned, "It's a drink. Trust me, it taste better than an Orgasm."
Arnold's head was spinning now, "What?"
Tanner's hand latched around his bicep and dragged him off the dance floor. Tanner, although a little buzzed, managed to do his traditional tricks: spinning the bottles of alcohol, catching them behind his back without dropping them.
Arnold felt as if this was an out of body experience. He was talking, he just didn't know what he was really saying. "Why are you so good at this?"
"I'm a bartender." Arnold watched as Tanner poured Bailey's Irish Cream and Kahúla, the coffe-flavored rum-based liqueur, into a shot glass before topping it off with a spot of whipped cream. He downed the shot quickly, grinning when Tanner made him another. He was three Blow Jobs in when Logan dragged him back to the dance floor.
"I'm Katie," the girl who'd been around him all night finally smiled.
"Arnold."
"You have a little whipped cream-" Katie slowly leaned forwards, kissing the whipped cream off of Arnold's upper lip.
His head was spinning faster now, bells and whistles firing off in his mind.
He forcefully nudged her off, "No, stop, Katie, please." He pointed to his tattoo, which had been surrounded by hearts, "I have a girlfriend."
Katie nodded in understanding, "Sorry. . .I'll see you around." She turned to the room, jumping up on the couch and screamed, "I need a drink!"
Arnold fell against the wall he didn't know he was leaning on.
"I've never seen someone that drunk say no." Logan laughed, "Wait, correction: I've never seen a guy that drunk say no."
"I already fucked things up with her once, I don't wanna do that again." His mouth was moving faster than his mind. He still felt pretty dizzy.
"Let's get you some water, Arnold."
Logan handed Arnold a cup. He was too drunk to realize that it wasn't water in the cup.
Arnold gulped back much more than he should have, feeling his stomach tighten and spew out whatever was in the cup. Vodka. They'd given him Vodka. The other baseball guys were screaming in laughter, doubled over their knees and spilling beer. Arnold shook his head and ran to the bathroom. And he puked.
That only encouraged the baseball team to get him to drink more.
And that's where his memory stopped.
H-A!-H-A!
An air horn.
Those bastards woke them up with an air horn.
The freshman had been carried, or tossed, downstairs to sleep around three a.m. They passed out wherever they could. The basement wasn't as big as it seemed.
Logan woke them up at 8 a.m. with the loudest air horn Arnold had ever heard. "Rise and shine, assholes! It's time to clean up!" With a very heavy head and throbbing pain in his side, head and back, Arnold rose to his feet.
He could hear Phoebe's lecture on the dangers of alcohol consumption in a quiet voice in the back of his head, "Alcohol dehydrates the body. That causes hangovers. You should always drink water before going to sleep."
The boys all moved slowly up the stairs, careful not to make any loud noises. A few of the boys woke up still drunk and managed to trip up the stairs. Upon entering the hallway, a bright light was flashed into their eyes. Everyone moaned and held their heads, blinking as they made their way into the kitchen.
"Fucking assholes," Kyle muttered.
Arnold had never felt worse in his entire life. He was pretty sure getting stabbed felt like a nice cheerful walk in the park compared to this. Sleeping on the floor with no blanket, pillow or anything except cement definitely didn't help. He felt incredibly stiff and moving too much made the extra weight in his head burn.
"Clean up the floors, throw out the cups, do the dishes and then you can shower."
The idea of a shower sounded like Heaven. Hot water soothing the aches and pains as well as quiet time to think about what the hell happened last night.
It took an hour to mop the floor. Beer was very sticky when dried. There had to be at least two hundred cups littering the ground. Kyle took to cleaning the shot and pint glasses. He had been forced to wear a very frilly apron and rubber gloves, but he said he'd rather take the humiliation than scrub vomit covered toilets.
Someone had broken the third story window. Door knobs had gone missing. A fake plant had been turned over in the living room. Every spot in the house looked like a tornado had torn through it.
By 11 a.m., everything was cleaned up.
"A player will escort you to your dorm to shower. Don't talk to anyone and do not change into new clothes. Come straight back here."
Upon retuning to his room, Arnold was greeted with boisterous laughter. Shawn was sitting on his bed, laptop resting beside him. He jumped up and spun Arnold around, cracking up at every new drawing he saw.
The girls had painted a unicorn puking rainbows on his back, as well as written the list of actors that 'Arnold would fuck', and flowers. The girls really liked flowers. On his front, they painted an exaggerated outline of his abs, hearts, and written things like "lick my navel", "kiss my neck", "feel my bicep." They outlined his scar in red, making it look like he was bleeding. And on his forehead they'd written genius, only misspelling it to make a point.
Shawn took pictures, "I am so mad I missed this."
Tanner had escorted Arnold to his dorm and smiled at Shawn, pulling out his phone to reveal videos from the night. The two laughed at what Arnold had done while he showered.
He couldn't wait for this weekend to be over.
Arnold's shower took three times as long because he had to remove the Sharpie Paint Pens. Tanner assured him they were water based and not oil, so they wouldn't really hurt him.
Everyone returned to the house, only to see that a bar-be-que was set up and underway. Logan was grilling, since it was his house and he knew Adam would try to start a fire.
Arnold's stomach was growling but he really didn't feel up to eating. Instead he made it his mission to drink as much water as possible.
The Gamecocks Baseball team hung out, telling stories about horrible teachers, friends, fights, and girls. It was a nice bonding experience, and a suitable apology for everything they'd been put through last night.
"How did you guys manage to swing coach to let up on practice this weekend?"
"We have to start sharing the field with softball until their new one's re-grassed. So we selflessly sacrificed three days to allow our fellow Gamecocks to practice." The upperclassmen were in hysterics over Logan's explanation.
After the sun set, everyone gathered in the living room to watch a major league baseball game. Beers were passed around and jokes were shared about rooting for the Tampa Bay Rays or the New York Yankees.
It wasn't until midnight when Arnold realized something was up. Logan had been uncharacteristically quiet post-game, until Patrick shoved his shoulder.
"Hey, kiddos, we need something from you." The thirteen freshman perked up in their seats. "The first one to sprint to the supermarket and make it back here with my favorite candy wins."
The supermarket Logan referred to was all the way across campus. You'd have to take a left at the farthest building, run down two more streets and then up a small hill to get to the side entrance.
On the walk back to Logan's house, Tanner had given Arnold directions before tossing out a not-so-subtle hint about how to win this challenge. "My player did the same for me," Tanner explained, "and it helped me win. We became best friends after that. . . .I just thought I'd share the same valuable information, even though I know everyone else is doing the same thing."
Arnold held his hand out, gripping Tanner's tightly in a shake. "Thanks, man. I won't let you down."
Now Arnold was leading the pack towards the supermarket.
Thinking quickly, he dove through bushes and hid for a moment on the edge of campus. The other teammates split up, some going to the right and others to the left. Arnold caught his breath before standing up and sprinting. He caught up to the other group who took a left, but quietly passed around them by ducking behind cars before jumping out in front of them.
There were only six other players following behind Arnold.
He had no idea why he was the fastest. He had lost sprinting during practice many times. It must have been his desire to win for Tanner.
Upon making it up the hill and through the automatic door, Arnold ran to the front, "I'm sorry about the noise that's coming," he panted while tossing his wallet and the candy onto the counter.
The blonde cashier smirked, "Oh, it's that time of the year already?" She looked to be younger than Arnold, maybe a junior in high school. "My dad owns this place," she explained while ringing up Arnold's candy. "And i've worked here for like five years. During the beginning of every semester, all kinds of kids come running in here, looking for something."
Arnold slid his credit card through the machine, smiling at the girl. He was still panting incredibly hard. She handed back his receipt and tossed his candy into a bag before waving, "Good luck!"
"Thanks!" Arnold shouted as he left through the front door.
Since there were only thirteen freshman, the ten oldest juniors and the three seniors became the freshman's "mentors." It was a tradition that started quite a long time ago. It was similar to a fraternity, only there were no secret handshakes or pledging whatever.
Arnold burst through the front door, smiling despite the fact he was breathless and could possibly puke at any moment. Tanner and Logan cheered. "I believe you requested a king sized Kit Kat?"
Logan leaned back in his chair, thoroughly impressed. "Way to go Shortman."
"Thanks."
A few of the sophomores and juniors rose to leave, "We're gonna head on home, some of us have dorms that lock after 1."
The guys began to come back, one by one, with different types of candy. A few had the right idea, but most were off. Logan accepted the candy regardless, then guided everyone to the basement. "Sleep tight little ones. We'll wake you up bright and early tomorrow."
H-A!-H-A!
Arnold rolled over, only to find Kyle's arm hooked around his waist. Both boy screamed and backed away, waking up the entire room in the process.
Logan came down a few minutes later, this time with a megaphone. "Good morning, douchebags! It's time to wake up and wash our cars!"
Kyle kicked Arnold's leg once more for good measure, "Is he allowed to do this?"
"If no one in power finds out."
The teens all stood up and marched outside.
Logan held a bag full of old bathing suits for the guys. They were all grateful not to have to wash cars in their clothes, although that would clean them. "But, wait, I'm not done."
Michael handed him another bag. Of bikini tops. "Get cleaning, ladies."
"I have never been this humiliated before," Kyle sighed as he dunked a sponge into a half-filled bucket.
Arnold nodded, clearly remembering a few times when he'd felt humiliated. 'Bunny Pajama Boy' was definitely running on the top of the list. This was a close second. Maybe. But, there was the time he and Helga. . .Nope. Not reliving that.
"Dude, are you blushing?"
Arnold turned his head away from Kyle, laughing, "No way man."
They finished Logan's car quickly, moving onto the others with just as much speed. The last thing they wanted was anyone-
"Oh, my god, Arnold!"
Fuck.
Shawn had received a video message from Tanner, strongly encouraging him to come watch his roommate wash cars in a bikini.
"I love college," Shawn replied before raising his camera to capture the cross-dressed kids by the car. Shawn had taken a few photography classes in high school, nothing serious really, he just like taking pictures of his family, but this was one modeling shoot he was not passing up.
"I will model if you get me drunk enough," a teammate joked.
Cue the other Gamecocks passing around bottles of Jack Daniels and Jäger, sipping before washing more of the car. By the time the third car was done, the kids were drunk. Arnold had been hesitant, but after watching the football team walk by and jokingly cheer, he needed something to take the edge off.
After the fourth car was clean, the guys began a water fight against their teammates. Kyle finished off the end of the Jack before running towards the house with a bucket of dirty sudsy water. "This is for you Logan!"
Logan sighed and held his hands up in defeat, "I deserve this!"
Kyle screamed like Tarzan before running back outside. "Our leader has been overthrown! Mutiny, men!" The freshmen cheered, threw off their bikinis and continued splashing water around. Tanner watched from the safety of the second story balcony, video camera in hand for the entire thing. He laughed as Michael was pulled under the hose, his face throughly cleaned with extreme pressure.
Arnold laughed as he dodged another bucket of dirty sponges being thrown at him. The rest of the team was in hysterics. Arnold couldn't believe he was drunk during a Sunday afternoon, playing around with his teammates like they were ten years old. It was a great experience.
He had to agree with Shawn.
He loved college.