by Hawke Oakley
I had been talking to Molly when I saw it – a lithe, sandy creature shaped like death.
Slowly, Molly picked the phone out of her pocket and called the rancher, who eventually scared it off by yelling and taking a shot in the air.
But I would never forget the way the big cat stared me in the eyes.
So this – this was nothing.
Eventually, I saw the flash in her eyes as she’d given up. Our hackles fell. She made a scoffing sound, still glaring at me. “Whatever. See if I ever bring booze here again.”
“Don’t care,” I said.
This angered her, but she said nothing, storming off and disappearing with a slammed door.
I let out the breath I’d been holding and looked at Riley. “Are you okay?”
He looked pissed off and confused and horny and shitfaced. “No.”
I sighed. “Okay, well, I’m taking you back to the room. Don’t throw up on me.”
Riley’s face scrunched up like he was trying to solve a difficult math problem and had no idea where to start. He let me hesitantly put my arm under his, just to make sure he didn’t collapse on the way up the stairs.
“No promises,” he muttered.
Chapter Eight
A week of little consequence passed. I went to class, studied, ate, and passed out. I even showered a couple times. Turns out when you live on your own without your mom to nag you, you forget sometimes.
The only thing I was anxious about was my philosophy exam. It had been the morning after the party, and the longer time went on, the more I realized how much I hadn’t studied for it. I’d meant to spend Thursday night studying until Riley invited me to that party and then all hell broke loose. Friday morning, I barely woke up at the sound of my alarm, and almost didn’t make it to the lecture hall on time. I didn’t see Riley among the hundreds of classmates.
I was pissed off about that, too. We had the same exam but he must have woken up early, left me there, and went on ahead. He didn’t even bother trying to make sure I was on time for the exam. After all I’d done for him, I thought bitterly.
But that was just it. I don’t think he even remembered what happened that night when he was tipsy. Hell, tipsy was an understatement. I was surprised he didn’t get up during the night to be sick.
I don’t know if he even remembered what happened with Lily. I hadn’t asked. I wasn’t even sure how to bring it up.
I hadn’t seen her since that night. It was fine with me if I never saw her again.
Riley and I fell back into our routine of essentially ignoring each other with a rude comment and a grunt “hey” once in a while. It was almost like that night never happened. I wondered if I’d ever feel like that towards him again. I’d felt sorry for him then, and even wanted to stand up for him in the wake of Lily’s shittiness.
Now, I wasn’t sure where we stood anymore. I guessed we were back at “roommates who barely tolerated each other.”
Riley barged in, his face furious. He was clutching a piece of paper in his fist. He almost looked like he was going to beat me with it. I would’ve laughed if he didn’t look so pissed off.
“What is it this time?” I muttered.
“You fuck,” Riley snapped. “Do you know what this is?”
“A piece of paper,” I said dryly.
He rushed towards me, clutching the paper so hard I thought it would rip. “This is our exam results, asshole. My exam mark.”
I blinked. I hadn't known they were out already. Figures Riley would decide to make a fucking scene out this instead of just telling me our grades were out like a normal person.
“And?” I said.
Riley’s jaw set and he narrowed his eyes at me. Suddenly, as quickly as he had burst in, he turned stiffly on his heel and left. His voice drifted in the room as he stormed out.
“Maybe you better check yours, too.”
That made an uncomfortable weight settle in my gut. Slowly I got up and headed across campus to our philosophy class’s lecture hall. As I climbed the hill the anxiety growing inside me built and snowballed. I half wished Riley hadn’t told me about it at all.
I got to the room just as another one of my classmates walked out with a grin on her face. I saw Dr. Z’s greying hair beyond the doorframe. I winced inwardly, thinking about how, out of the hundreds of students in this one class alone, he knew me as the one who came in late, caused a scene and dropped his phone at his feet. I shrunk back, pinching the bridge of my nose. I just wanted to be a nobody in his eyes.
But standing around here wasn’t going to help that. I steeled myself – if you can stand up to Lily and a goddamn cougar, you can do this – and headed inside.
“Dr. Z?” I called. He didn’t look up from the stack of papers he was flipping through. “I’m, um, here for my exam grade.”
“Last name.”
I felt my throat tighten. “Sorry?”
He looked up at me from above his glasses, looking tired and exasperated. “I need your last name, please.”
“Oh – sorry, it’s Jacobs.” I kicked myself mentally. Every second being alone in the room with this man was like torture. Did he ever smile?
The silence that pounded through the lecture hall was like a throbbing headache. It was punctuated only by the sound of our breathing and the sound of riffling paper. I kind of wished he’d say something. I couldn’t take this oppressive quiet.
“I know you,” he murmured, almost to himself. “You’re the one who goofed off in that first class with that other boy.”
I took it back. I’d rather have the silence.
“Um.” I shuffled my feet. It was like anything I had to say was the wrong thing no matter what. “Sorry.”
He was still shuffling through papers. Then he found what he was looking for and pursed his lips down at the exam before pulling it out. “Here we go.”
There it was, in big red letters. A big fat whopping F.
Underneath there was another set of numbers. 21/100.
21%. Jesus Christ.
I didn’t know how long I stood there staring at the numbers before Dr. Z cleared his throat. “Might I suggest a bit more studying and less fooling around with your friend?”
The words rose in my throat like bile and came out before I could stop myself. “He is not my friend!”
I was much, much louder than I wanted to be. My voice echoed through the lecture hall, seeming like it was never going to stop, like a wine stain on a white shirt. I felt the burn of shame prickling under my skin. I prayed to God the prof didn’t look at me. Actually, maybe he should just forget I existed. That would be better for everyone.
The words, when he finally spoke them, were like an ice pick to the brain, somehow making a bad situation even worse. “Well, whatever he is to you, I’d suggest not letting this happen again.”
Whatever he is to you.
Whatever he is to you.
What the fuck does that mean?
My mind was in a fucking daze but thankfully my body spoke on my behalf, almost as if on autopilot. “It won’t.”
Crushing the exam grade in my fist, I turned and trudged out of the lecture hall, letting my legs drag me back to the dorm.
I fumbled with the door. The other only feeling besides anger I recognized was hunger. I was hungry as shit. The paper was becoming pulp in my hand, crushed and sweaty. Good. Maybe, I thought childishly, if it didn’t exist, neither would the grade.
Or the words Dr. Z had said to me.
Fisting the remains of the paper into my pocket, I headed to the cafeteria. I grabbed a burger, soda and a bag of chips, not concerned about the health-quality of this meal since I was feeling moody as hell. I picked an empty table and sat by myself, wolfing down the burger like a caveman.
I half wished Molly were here for a second before realizing what a bad idea that would be. I was itching for a fight, and I recalled her words about being careful. Right now I didn’t care.
I failed. My first ever college exam
and I failed.
And it was all Riley’s fault.
As if God himself decided to punk me, I heard a voice ringing across the cafeteria. A few tables over, Riley sat with a bunch of guys I didn’t know. His buddies. The shock and anger on his face earlier had disappeared, replaced with a sort of smug satisfaction. I noticed the paper jammed in his pocket, too.
“So, what’d you get?”
I slowly closed my eyes. Maybe I was hallucinating in a fit of rage. Did that even happen? I don’t know, but I pretended anyway. Except when I opened my eyes again he was still there, leering at me with his hawk-like eyes. I glared back, challenging him. That was what I could really use right now. A fight.
I dared him to come at me.
He hadn’t worked up the nerve yet. I could see it in the way his muscles tensed, his fists resting on the table. But he wasn’t above goading me.
“Well?” he called. All his buddies’ eyes were on us now, waiting for the reaction. For the storm to break. “I’m sure you passed, right?”
I stood forcefully. A few “ooo”s came from his table. I blocked them out. All I cared was about Riley. But as I trudged towards him, fists at my side, his expression changed. He looked angry again.
“What’s wrong? Too busy making sure people don’t get laid to study for your exam?”
I stopped dead. My voice came out quiet, too quiet. “What?”
Riley narrowed his eyes. “You heard me. I remember what happened that night, all of it.”
Fury surged up in my chest like fire. “You knew and you didn’t say anything?”
“Yep.” His tone was casual, but the look on his face was sharp. “I wasn’t that drunk.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” I muttered. “I’m surprised you didn’t throw up on her.”
A few of the guys at Riley’s table laughed, and this pissed him off more than anything. I tried to suppress a smirk as he shot up, slamming his hands on the table.
“You jealous?” he barked.
“What? Of who?” I couldn’t help but chuckle at the accusation that I was jealous of making out with a girl – especially Lily, of all girls. No thanks.
But then his next words pierced me like a sword to the ribs.
“Of her,” he spat.
My body understood immediately. It reacted, flaring hot and cold at the same time, my palms clammy and the hair on the back of my neck sticking up. But it took my mind a moment to realize what he was saying.
The guys surrounding him laughed, but the laughter broke off when I didn’t respond. My heart suddenly raced. I’d taken too long to respond. I could’ve saved myself if I said something a moment earlier. But now it was too late. The words sunk in, permeated in the air like carbon monoxide, choking me.
Riley shot me a look, piercing daggers. “What’s the matter, fag?”
The world spun around me as I launched myself at him. Voices and sounds blurred. Something cracked underneath my fist. I tasted blood.
My vision came back into focus – just for a moment. I was on top of Riley, pinning him down, punching his face. He tried to block my fists with his hands. People around us were yelling. The guys urged us on, like this was a game. I heard some girls shrieking and calling for help.
I sucked in a breath the split second before his knuckles collided with my cheekbone. I held my ground, taking the brunt of the hit. Spit and blood pooled in my mouth.
He was yelling at me now to get off. He should have thought about that before he called me that.
Something knocked the wind out of me. Riley had managed to twist his hips. His body was longer than mine, and his legs had better reach. He kicked me in the side of my ribs. The air in my lungs shot out, and with this moment of weakness he scrambled out from underneath me. He was on me again in a second, battering my face.
But he couldn’t throw a punch like I could. His were airy, like he was holding back. I couldn’t tell if it was from inexperience or fear of actually hurting me. I’d felt no such thing when I hit him. I wanted to hurt him – hurt him like he hurt me. Not just for the slur, but for everything. For humiliating me, for treating me like garbage, for not appreciating what I’d done for him. He deserved it. He deserved it. He deserved it.
I pulled my arm back to throw another punch, but a vice grip grabbed my wrist. Instinctively I struggled against the pressure chaining me, but the voice that spoke made me freeze.
“That’s quite enough, Mr. Jacobs.”
My vision blurred a moment as I came down from my adrenaline high. I saw now that the entire cafeteria population was surrounding us in a tight circle. Even his buddies from earlier were wide-eyed in shock. All eyes on us. Riley and I.
I glanced at Riley. He was a fucking mess. Blood and snot ran down his nose. I wondered briefly if I’d broken it. There was a harsh red mark on his cheek that I knew from experience would blossom into an ugly bruise within the next few days.
Nobody was holding him back. They were only holding me. He was no longer a threat. I was.
In a shock of realization I knew who the voice – and the hand holding me – belonged to. Dr. Z stood above me, his eyes cold and unnerving as always. He let me go this time when I slowly tugged my arm away from his grip.
I was at a loss for words as I stared up at him. The cafeteria was silent except for a few murmurs from the crowd. I felt something wet dripping down my lip. Instinctively I wiped it and was surprised by the bright red smear across the back of my hand. But I didn’t feel any pain, even with the knowledge that I was bleeding, and thus injured. I knew – also from experience – that I would probably feel it soon enough.
“I think you both had better come with me,” Dr. Z said, his voice quiet. There was that shameful feeling again, except this time instead of embarrassing myself in class, this was bigger trouble. This was much worse.
I half expected Riley to object, but instead he slowly got to his feet. I noticed he was trembling, but whether it was from fear or excitement I didn’t know. I followed, keeping my distance from him, as Dr. Z led us away from the cafeteria, into a deadly silent hallway.
Chapter Nine
As the high of fighting wore off, questions burned into my mind. For one thing, why was our philosophy prof in our dorm? Second, why the hell did no one let us know someone was coming?
Scratch that. I realized I probably wouldn’t have stopped even if someone was screaming that the police were coming. Although I probably should have. I hated to admit it, but Molly was right about the fighting thing.
But that brought me to the third issue. Riley deserved it. He absolutely fucking deserved it. Whether it was a broken nose or a bruised ego, I didn’t regret beating the shit out of him.
I thought about looking over at him now, but my stomach churned at the idea. I realized I’d be glad if I never had to see him for the rest of my life.
“Well, here we are.”
Dr. Z stopped in front of a room, with his name printed clearly in a gold plaque on the closed door. We were far from the cafeteria and our room now – he’d taken us to the fourth floor, past the final floor for dorms. This floor was reserved for staff. I knew there were teachers who lived in the building, too, mostly younger profs without families that wanted easier access to campus. They doubled as extra RAs, an added layer of intimidation so kids didn’t fuck around too much.
They probably had nicer rooms than us.
I sighed. I should have figured that out of all the profs, he’d be the one living in the same dorm as me.
He opened the door for us and we filed in with a healthy distance between us. There was one chair opposite Dr. Z’s massive oak table. I realized his room didn’t look so much like a dorm room, but an office. It was easily twice the size of Riley and I’s room. Lucky bastard.
Dr. Z pulled another chair from the corner of the room and set it a good few feet from the other one, then gestured for us to sit down. I did so stiffly. My eyes drifted around the tabletop until they rested on a picture frame. In the
frame, there was a photo of a band of wild horses grazing on the open plains. I focused on that and tried to ignore everything else that was going on.
The professor leaned his elbows on the table, slowly looking from Riley to me. He pushed a box of tissues towards us. Riley took a couple, which made me prickle for some reason. I stared at the box, then wiped the still-damp blood from my nose on the back of my forearm.
“Charming,” Riley muttered.
Before I could even whirl around on him, Dr. Z outstretched a calming hand. “Relax, Mr. Jacobs.”
I couldn’t relax. How could I relax when the guy next to me had just called me a homophobic slur?
“You still look tense,” he continued, looking at me. “What seems to be the problem?”
I stared dryly at him. Oh, well you see, the problem is that my roommate is a fucking tool and I’m glad I finally knocked his lights out. Sorry not sorry.
“Nothing,” I said instead.
“If there was nothing wrong, then I wouldn’t have two bloody young men sitting in my office right now,” he said. Riley snorted, as if his witty comment was only directed towards me and had nothing to do with him.
I exploded.
“Fine,” I said, sitting forward in my seat, gripping the armrests. “You wanna know what the problem is?” I pointed at Riley. “He’s a homophobic ass. He’s been jerking me around since day zero. All I’ve ever done is try to be nice to him and it always blows up in my face. Nothing is ever right with him. You do something, and it’s wrong. You don’t do something, it’s wrong. Like, what the hell’s the matter with you? Don’t you have any decency? And it’s not just me, either. Oh, no. I’m not even the only one who thinks that. Even the girl you managed to get half-naked in your bed thinks you’re an asshole. I’m glad I walked in on that and interrupted. You know what? I’m glad I punched you, too. Because if anyone deserves a broken nose, Riley, it’s you.”
I sat down.
The air in my lungs was gone. I felt like I just delivered a speech to a roomful of important people and was waiting on my standing ovation. Except I wasn’t going to get one. All I got was a tiny nod of acknowledgement from Dr. Z, and silence from Riley.