Kai

I flopped down onto the hard wooden chair that accompanied the desk built into the room. Today had been a tiresome day. I still could barely wrap my head around the fact that those girls had seen nothing wrong with gossiping about someone they had never met. And to make those assumptions about what I would or wouldn’t stand for?

It was ridiculous! Who are they to assume that they know someone based on glances and looks? Those kinds of people irritate me to no end. Like, what was the point of making assumptions about someone you've never met? And when you aren't part of their lives? Just leave people alone, especially if you care more about their potential then their true self.

Groaning, I straightened in the chair. I pulled books out from my backpack, halfway intending to do some studying before midnight hit. Not that I needed it. I had spent the summer reading in the small town library, and most of those books had been old textbooks that people had decided to “donate” to the library. That in itself had set me up enough that doing homework was plenty to reinforce the concepts and the practice of what we were supposed to be learning from our teachers.

I flipped open the top book, which just-so-happened to be for my Calc class, when I heard that most dreaded sound of all sounds: heavy feet stomping down the hallway while a tinkling little giggle accompanied the steps.

My roommate was here, probably half drunk and ignorant that it was still a school night. My supposed “best friend” never really paid attention in class, which is probably why no night seemed to be a school night. I shook my head. If only he would use those brains of his for something more than getting girls and avoiding trouble.

The door opened and I looked up at the ceiling in defeat. It wouldn’t matter how much I didn’t want it to be so. Three weeks with the college’s top quarterback had taught me that it really was happening, despite how many times I had asked for him to keep it in his pants during the week.

A thud announced that one or both of them had fallen against the door, likely pinning it closed in the process. I turned around so I could glare at them. It was the usual sight: my roommate and tonight’s hook-up were flailing their clothing off of each other as they tried to gag themselves on the other’s tongue. Disgusting. Why couldn’t he have the decency to check for his roommate before stripping each other?

“Ahem,” I cleared my throat loudly enough to get both of their attention. I leaned back against the desk, my arms tightly folded against my chest as I raised an eyebrow at the unimpressive scene, “It’s Thursday, Clyde.”

“What?” he looked over at me, drunkenly confused. I had been right. He was already half-way to being completely wasted. I watched as he felt for his phone in his pants, then continued to fish through all of his and hers now-scattered clothes.

Finally he found it in the pocket of his sweater, which was still hanging off my bed even though he easily could have tossed it over to his own. He checked it before looking up, sincerity coating his face before he could even say a word, “I’m so sorry, man! I could’ve sworn it was Friday!”

I huffed a little and sighed, grabbing the backpack not beside my desk, but the one up on my dresser. “It’s no problem,” I glanced at the girl, vaguely recognizing her as one of the more persistent young ladies trying to get me to go on a date with them as well as being one of the ones that had been gossiping by the bathrooms earlier. “I’ll just leave early, I suppose.”

“Thanks, man!” Clyde smiled broadly, grinning like an idiot as I wondered if that was the alcohol or his natural state of being. “You’re the best roomie ever! That’s why I’m your best friend!”

“Mhm,” I slid past the half-dressed cheerleader. Shock coated her face as she realized who I was and how I had caught her and her friend talking about me earlier. Apparently she hadn’t known that we were roommates. Not many did, though I had a feeling that would change soon. Rumors and gossip had a habit of spreading like wildfire.

In the meantime, I had originally planned on leaving tomorrow morning, but what was a couple hours early? I would be going “home” no matter when I left, so I might as well go now. There was a growing chance with every minute further into the night that I would get mugged on my way. Maybe I could even use it as an acceptable excuse to avoid the house this weekend.

I ignored the cold pressing in on me. Clyde still hadn’t gotten my “borrowed” jacket back from one of his many hook-ups. He probably didn’t even remember that he had loaned it out, or that he was supposed to get it back for me.

It didn’t matter. Not anymore, at least. Even if I did have it, by the time I left home, it wouldn’t be wearable. I knew better than to hope for anything else. In fact, I was nearing a good place to stash my bag.

Finally finding the right place, close enough to home that I wouldn’t look like a weirdo as I stumbled around looking for it later but far enough from my neighborhood that it wasn’t likely to be stolen, I made sure that it couldn’t be accidentally found. It held my extra supplies: bandages, salves, clothes. Bandages.

Hopefully, my precautions would be enough. I didn’t want it to be stolen again.