My Freshman Year: Day 64

Days as a Freshman: 64

Mood: pissed off

“Campbell!”

As the soccer boys stomped over to us, I felt myself pushing against my hard, black chair, wishing I could use it as camouflage. Everything about them was loud; the way the walked, shoving wayward chairs and tables out of their way, the heaviness of their boots on the linoleum, the shouts they threw back and forth at each other, even their energy made too much noise, the small atrium cafe seeming suddenly much too tight and airless.

“You missed the meeting, man!” Pulling a chair over to our table and sitting on it backwards, the loudest and biggest of the soccer boys pushed Sasha’s shoulder playfully, but hard enough to almost throw him off his chair. “It was a shit show. A total shit show.”

The two other soccer boys, dressed in almost identical blue sweatpants, white shirts, and blue baseball caps, stood on either side of Sasha. Their eyes slid over to me. I looked down, staring at the bobbing teabag in my cup.

“Coach was there. He told the student life people to calm down. But not before they put the whole f*cking house on probation.” Still ignoring me, the head soccer guy pulled his own baseball cap over his face. “No parties for a while, man. At least none that they hear about.”

“So they didn’t…did they ever find out if anything really happened?”

I looked up as Sasha spoke, his eyes meeting mine apologetically. I could tell he felt just as uncomfortable as I did.

“Naw man. The girl who reported it is a total slut anyway. It’s nothing.”

The head soccer moron pushed his blue cap higher on his head and smiled, his smug grin making my skin crawl. How could Sasha hang out with these pigs?

“Who’s this, anyway?” Jutting his chin in my direction, the head moron sized me up with his tiny eyes, looking away just quick enough to signify he wasn’t interested.

“Grace. We were just going over chemistry shit.” Pushing his tea farther away from him, Sasha cracked his knuckles and ran his hand through his hair, keeping his gaze on the wall right above my head. “You guys heading back to the house?”

“Yeah” Head Moron nodded, “after a pit stop for food. Josh is freaking out about wanting cake.”

“I just got this need for fucking cake, man!” One of the identical twins slammed a fist into his hand, signifying just how much he needed cake at one in the morning.

“I’ll head out with you guys, then.” Without looking at me, Sasha stood up and grabbed his bag from the ground. Trapped by embarrassment and confusion, I stayed sitting, watching him like a puppy that’s just been kicked.

“Catch you later, Grace. We’ll finish talking soon.” Smiling a smile that was hardly the smile I had seen only minutes before, Sasha turned and walked off with the three stupid musketeers, the Head Moron shoving him into a wall before opening the glass atrium doors.

As the idiot twins and Sasha walked outside, the Head Moron looked back over at me, catching me staring and winking a beady eye in my direction.

Disgusted, I looked away, my fingers curling around my paper cup and my mind racing.

How could Sasha stomach those guys, let alone live with them? And why had he changed so quickly when they stomped over?

More importantly, what had he wanted to tell me before they came along?

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