Page 8 of And They Were Roommates

“Jesus—!” I spin to face any other direction. My elbow knocks my dresser so hard that a textbook falls off and smashes my foot. I yelp.

“What’s wrong?” Jasper says. Totally calm. At least I assumehe is from his typical singsongy voice. No way I’m looking over to verify that.

“N-nothing.”

He chuckles in the face of my breakdown. “Have you forgotten we’re both guys?”

Being told I’m a boy should feel good. Amazing.

All I feel is crushed.

“I’m gonna—” I point toward the bathroom. “Bye!”

The door shuts beside me. My legs collapse, and I land on the floor, my blood pumping through me. Jasper’s fancy glass containers of shampoo and conditioner are visible through the translucent shower door next to my two-in-one. Rose scented. Bright pink.

We’ll share a shower.

Sitting there, I take deep breaths to stop myself from having a heart attack in my teens. Then, only a few seconds later, I pick myself back up. Because Excellence Scholars don’t nearly throw up their dinner on the first day of school. They excel.

My residential retainer will talk to the office. I’ll escape soon.

Chapter 4BRAVE NEW WORLD

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 4

CHARLIE VON HEVRINGPRINZ | ID: V183019

Zero Hour: Homeroom

First Hour: Physical Education

Second Hour: Advanced Chemistry

Third Hour: Advanced English Literature

Lunch C

Fourth Hour: Advanced Calculus

Fifth Hour: Advanced World History

Sixth Hour: First-Year Civics

Physical educationburns my eyes like acid.

I whip off the class schedule taped to my door and inspect the list closer. First-year civics should take up one of my two extracurriculars—a requirement I missed as a transfer. But when I submitted my desired course list over the summer, I nearly passed out when I saw all the literary options: Factual Journalism, the Art of Persuasive Writing, History of Chinese Literature, Intro to Poetry. Who wouldn’t kill for those? Well, minus poetry.

I had marked the first three down with enthusiastic interest, happy to get into any.

So why physical education?

Playing sports with other guys. Being compared to other guys. Showering with guys.

“No way in hell” shoots out of me so loudly that my voice echoes down the hallway, my filter annihilated after being awake until two a.m. last night.

Jasper doesn’t snore, but he does read. Loudly. Deep into the night, he leaned against his headboard, reading a book thicker than my head. Each page turn crinkled. His lamp buzzed. And, of course, he just had to vocally react to every stanza.Oh, wow. My goodness. Unbelievable.What could be that interesting? Ten bucks it was his own poetry.

I glance at Jasper’s made bed, which has a whopping eleven extra throw pillows and a decorative patchwork quilt patterned with knit ambrosia flowers. The posters of himself still hang from the ceiling. All that’s missing is the real Jasper.

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