Chapter 14: Wild Oats

With a couple of large overstuffed plastic garbage bags of empty water bottles slung over our shoulders, Alex and I head to the elevators. Adam passes us in the hall, “Making a trip to the dumpster?”

“Yup, just keepin’ our room clean,” I answer, trying to give the impression nothing’s out of the ordinary.

He gives us a look, it’s clear he’s not buying it, “Just keep your retaliation non-destructive, okay guys?” Yeah, he knows what’s going on...

At lunch, in the cafeteria, Alex and I are eating with Zach and Connor. We decide to let them in on what’s going on with the guys in Room 408. Connor tells us their names are Jay and Randy. He’s talked to them before, it turns out he likes some of the same bands they do.

“We need to figure out a way to get them back.” Alex says.

“Are you sure it was the guys in 408?” Connor asks.

“There’s no way to be 100% sure, but who else could it be?” I say.

“How about using duct tape to cover their entire door opening from top to bottom? You could stretch it across the doorframe so they have to cut their way out when they open it.” Zach offers.

“Yeah, that’s not too bad,” I nod, “But, it’s pretty similar to what they did to us. We need to do something different, something creative. Does anyone know if they leave their room unlocked?”

“They must, how could have someone have filled their room with shredded paper.” Zach says.

Connor offers, “I’ll talk to them again and see if they’ll tell me anything. One thing about pranksters, they love to brag and laugh about it. I can also try to find out when their classes are. We can always check if they lock their door when we know they’re gone. Although, they might be more diligent about locking it after the paper incident.”

“I don’t think those two have enough brain cells to be diligent.” I mutter.

“Either way, it would be good to know their schedule.”

“Cool, you can be our inside man, Connor,” Alex says.

I tell the guys, “Let’s take our time and think of something good. They’ll be expecting payback, so let’s make ‘em wait, get ‘em when their guard is down.”

I learned about a few big parties going on. As fun as a party sounds, I think I would rather take it easy this weekend. I want to take a couple of long bike rides around the area and explore. Alex is going to be spending time with his Club and going out with Gail.

On Sunday after work, Connor and his older brother, Dan, took me out to Wal-Mart to buy a mini-fridge. Dan has a pick-up truck, so transporting it was easy. I found one that will work well for $80. Alex and I had agreed to split the cost, he can pay me back when his money from home arrives.

The week passes and overall, I find things went well, everything is not so strange and new to me. I stayed on my routine of getting up at 5:30-ish, making coffee and working-out with Rachel and Chad. We have become pretty good friends meeting in the Fitness Room every morning, sometimes we all go out to breakfast afterwards.

One class I’ve really taken a liking to, is my Creative Writing course. I am no writer by any stretch, but I have always enjoyed the art of story-telling. Mr. Eskins gave us an assignment due in 3-weeks, he would like 30+ pages about our experience of moving away from home and starting college. We are free to describe it any way we would like.

Thirty-pages, wow, I don’t think I’ve ever written 30 straight pages of anything. How in the hell am I supposed to fill 30-pages with, “We packed the vehicles and drove here. I moved in the dorm. I meet my roommate. I started working. Etc.”

Okay, okay, I know, that’s pretty stripped down and basic, an outline at best. This is supposed to be Creative writing; perhaps I could go into a little more detail. Okay, how about I start off with:

“North-bound to Northbrook, today is the big day. I’m following behind my parents on the freeway, they are in Dad’s Chevy Suburban. I’m driving my Jeep, packed with all the parts for my loft bed, my bike and whatever else we could fit in. The Suburban is packed with my clothes, a wheel cart dolly and everything else. Mom will drive my Jeep home after we move everything into my dorm.”

There, that looks good, it’s a good start anyway. I just need to work in more details. At this pace, I should be able to fill the required pages easily.

I noticed Alex doesn’t seem to have nearly as much homework as my professors are dumping on me, or he just not doing it. If that’s the case, he better get on the ball, falling behind from the start would not be good.

This weekend coming up is Labor Day Weekend. My parents and Luke are in the Smoky Mountains. If you remember, my Dad’s vacation was delayed due to his work. They will return on Tuesday for Luke to start 11th Grade on Wednesday. A few people I know are going home, but I will be staying here. Seems like most students are staying, it’s supposedly a notorious major party weekend. All week, I have been hearing about a slew of huge beer bashes planned.

Work at the grocery store went well until Friday. I accidently bumped someone’s car in the parking lot with a shopping cart while gathering them. The owner seen it happen, yelled at me and went into the store to complain to Mr. Curtis. Mr. Curtis then went ballistic and chewed me out.

I’m a patient guy and have no problem owning up to my mistakes, but come on, mistakes do happen, it’s not like I intentionally rammed that cart into the guy’s car. I even offered to pay to have the small scratch buffed out. Mr. Curtis fluffed-off my offer, he would rather ride my ass and nit-pick every little thing I did for the rest of the day.

It’s obvious he enjoys having people under his all-mighty thumb; maybe he was one of those kids who was picked on his whole life growing up and now he’s getting-even with the world. Okay, maybe I’m being hard on the guy, but I will say he’s definitely not an easy man to work for.

I don’t think I need to tell you that a few beers sound good to me after that horrible shift. I have plenty of party options available, I’ll see if Alex, Connor and Zach are up for getting out.

Back at our room, Alex is spritzing on cologne like it’s going out of style, “Whoa, easy there,” I say waving my hand. “With that, a little goes a long way.”

“I’ve never put any on before, never had a date I needed to smell good for.”

“Just go light with it. So, I take it you’re seeing Gail tonight?”

“Yeah, we’re going to the movies. Hey, can I bug you for another $20? My check from home comes next week, I’ll settle everything up then, I promise.”

“Okay.” I sigh and fork over the money, “I was going to see if you wanted to go check out a party, but you already have plans.”

“Shoot a text to Connor, I think he’s going out to a kegger at someplace called South Hill Park.”

Connor replies that there is, in fact, a kegger is going on. All I have to do is bring some money to chip-in.

I change out of my work clothes, put on some jeans and my Ramones t-shirt. I wonder how many of my fellow students have ever heard of a cool band like The Ramones? Rap, R&B and pop seem to be the popular music of choice with my peers.

It’s pretty easy to find this place, it’s past South Hill Park on the south side of town as Chad told me it would be. I can see smoke billowing above the tress from a bonfire and already hear the hooting and hollering of the party revelers. There looks to be about 75 people here and more making their way in. I find several kegs set up in tubs of ice.

“Hey Kyle! Good to see you!” Chad comes from behind and slaps me on the back.

“Hey Chad, good to see you too. Who do I pay around here for the beer?”

“I can take that. Suzy, some of the guys and I set this up.”

Chad introduces me to his group of friends, including Suzy, a cute little redhead. I don’t see Rachel among the group though.

I ask Chad, “Is Rachel here?”

“I don’t know, haven’t seen her.”

“So, what’s Rachel’s story? Is she seeing anyone?”

He tilts his head, “Why, you interested in her?”

“Maybe...”

This perks his interest. He puts his arm around my shoulder and leads me away from the group, time for some real one-on-one, guy-talk, “Look, Rachel’s a sweetheart, but I gotta tellya, she’s a tough one to crack, if you know what I mean.”

“‘A tough one to crack?’”

“She doesn’t just let any guy in close. She has pretty high standards.”

“I see...”

“Look, I’m not saying don’t go for it, just be prepared. She’s got a ton of guys who would love to get in her pants and I don’t know of any that have succeeded.”

I nod, “Good to know...”

“Trust me, there’s plenty of easy pussy at this school. Ask yourself, do you want to waste your time waiting around for one that may never happen? Or, get out and sow your wild oats every weekend. It’s up to you, Man.”

“Good point.”

“Of course, it is, my friend.”

“Is Suzy your girlfriend?”

“For now, yeah. She’s hot, huh?”

“Yeah, she is.”

“She’s got a decent roommate; want me to hook you up?”

“We’ll see. Let me think about it.”

“Aw, what’s to think about? Do you wanna get laid or what?”

“Let me have a few beers and get back to you, okay?”

“Alright, no pressure, Dude,” he fist-bumps me, “You just let me know, I’ll fix you up.”

I like Chad, he’s a total jock, but a cool one. It seems that the social boundaries of, geeks, nerds, popular people, jocks and regular nobodies, aren’t as clearly defined as they were in high school. In high school, one group rarely associated with another (with the exception of the popular group and the jocks, they always comingled in more ways than one).

Connor and Dan find me and we fill our cups from the keg. I’ve already had a few and starting to feel the buzz. It feels good, I need this to unwind tonight. Connor tells me, “So, there’s this great big party going on over on 4th. We were thinking of bugging out of here later and checking it out. Wanna come?”

“Is it at a frat house?”

“No, the frats are on Chatsford Street, this is a student house-party.”

“Okay, sure, sounds good to me.” I shrug, I don’t care where this night takes me.

We hang around South Hill for a while and things are getting crazier the longer we stay. People are now doing keg-stands. They put their hands on the keg and do a handstand while someone puts the tap in their mouth. They try to stay inverted for as long as possible while guzzling beer. Usually ends up with them falling at some point, spitting beer everywhere and on everyone around them.

It’s hard to say how many people are here now, could be well over 200 for all I know. A portable sound system is blasting music of all sorts. It’s quite a scene. The bonfire is roaring, even on a warm night like this, people still love to build a fire. I’ve heard about the wild parties out at Fucker’s Pond back home, but I doubt they ever reached this crazy status.

Guzzling beer brings on one bodily function everyone succumbs to at some point, what goes in, must come out. That first draining is called, “Breaking the seal”, once you start, you will be going often. Out here, everyone wanders off in the bushes. You have to be careful how far you walk in, or you’ll likely brush against leaves already covered in piss. I feel bad for the girls who need to go in deep to squat out of view.

Even though there are multiple kegs, many people still brought their own beer, there are empty cans dropped on the ground everywhere, it’s hard to take a step without crunching on, or kicking one. I should tell Alex about this, we could come back in the morning and make a fortune in returnable bottle money.

Connor, Dan and I decide to leave South Hill and go check out the house-party. I have no idea what time it is, probably around midnight, but the night is still young for us. It’s quite a walk to get to this house, probably seems longer because I’m half drunk.

We finally stumble onto 4th Street, the avenue is lined with large, old-style houses rented to upperclassmen. I notice, not just a few, but many big parties going on. Dan told me that most of these will go for the whole weekend, not just tonight. I remember Renee telling me that Labor Day Weekend is a big get-drunk weekend at her school, I guess it’s the same thing here.

We find the house and walk in to air thick with cigarette smoke and loud music. I have no idea who any of these people are, nor do I care, they all appear to be having a good time. I find the keg and pour myself more beer.

I spot a Beer Pong game going on, I know how to play that. Eric’s friend, Gavin, and I kicked ass at it back home. A guy with curly hair sees me watching, “Hey, you want in?”

“Sure!” I step up.

He reaches out to shake my hand, “I’m Eddy.”

“Kyle.”

His buddies across the table say, “He’s Beer-Can Eddy.”

“‘Beer-Can Eddy?’” I ask.

“Show him, show him,” his friends chant.

Eddy downs the rest of his beer. Next, he bites into the side of the can, rips it into two pieces and spits out the last and third piece that was between his teeth. I step back and cringe at the sight of this. How did he not slice open his lips or tongue on the sharp, torn metal?

“Would you believe I’ve never cut myself? ... well, maybe once,” he tells me.

“Wow, that’s quite a talent you have there.” I tell him, still not quite sure what to think of Eddy’s unique parlor-trick.

“Want me to show you how? It’s easy.”

I hold my hands up, “No thanks, I’m good.”

We play a few games and lose most of them, I guess I lost my magic-touch for this game tonight. Losing a few games means my new friend, Beer-Can Eddy and I drank quite a bit more beer.

The room is starting to get all weird for me, weird in a distorted way and I’m having a hard time with things, things like vision, talking and balance. I better cool it for a while, I’ve got myself pretty fucking drunk. I find a couch to sit down, well, more like plop down.

I notice a girl over by the wall with light brown hair that goes just past her shoulders, she keeps looking over at me. She has a vague look of familiarity to me, but then again, I guess anyone could at this point, considering how many I’ve knocked back.

Everyone is so drunk. It seems that consuming huge amounts of beer really is vital part of the culture of college life. I know in the couple of weeks since I’ve been here, I’ve come across several drunk dormmates in the halls; including hearing the ones not having such good mornings in the bathroom stalls. I’ll probably be joining their ranks tomorrow myself...

That girl by the wall is seems to be staring at me. Does she know me? Do I know her? She is kind of cute, but then again, my inebriated eyes could be playing tricks on me. Ah, who cares, I’m content watching all this surrounding mayhem from my drunken stupor. Like what we have going on over here to the right, one drunk dude playfully shoving the shoulders of another drunk dude, they’re just playing around, both are so wasted.

While my head was turned, the girl walks over and stands in front of me. “Kyle Stevenson? Is it really you?”

“Huh? Do I know you?”

“Kyle, I can’t believe it, you go here!”

Who is this girl? She sits next to me, “It’s me, Abby Sampson, we went to high school together. Remember, I sat in front of you in Biology last year?”

It takes me a moment or two, then, “Abigail Sampson?” I blurt out, surprised as hell. Drunk or not, I have to take a pause, there is no way this girl is the nerdy Abigail Sampson I remember, famous for her silly pig-tails and braces. But, it is ... I see it now.

“Oh my god, it is you! Look at you! You look so...”

“Different, I know,” she finishes for me. “After high school, I did a little transformation on myself. The braces came off, I got contacts, did away with the pig-tails...”

“You look great! I mean that, really great.”

She puts her hand on my arm, “Thank you. It’s so good to see you, I didn’t think anyone from Maplewood was going to Northbrook.”

“Me neither.”

“How have you been?”

“I’m doing good, kinda drunk at the moment though ... really drunk, more like it.”

“Well, that makes two of us. Are you and Tiffany still together?” she asks.

“No, not really. She went off to Europe for the summer right after we graduated. She goes to the University of North Carolina now.”

“Aww, that’s too bad. I always thought you two were so cute together.”

“We’re still friends and keep in touch.”

“Oh, well, that’s good.”

Wow, I still can’t believe this is Abigail Sampson from back home. Maybe it’s beer-goggles making her look so good to me right now, but yet, somehow, I don’t think so. As I understand it, beer-goggles make a normally unattractive person appear hot when you’re drunk and horny. I can’t say that I’m particularly horny right now, other than a couple of deviant thoughts I pushed out of my mind earlier. I’m actually more in shock that: first, I found a former classmate attending Northbrook, and second, one of the nerdiest girls in Maplewood is sitting next to me, looking cute as hell.

She asks me, “Are you here with anyone?”

“I came with a couple of my buddies, but I have no idea where they are now though.”

“I came with friends too, but I think they ditched me.” She tilts her head, “Can I ask you for a tiny favor, Kyle?”

“Sure, what?”

“Would you mind walking me home? I’ve had more than enough to drink and I need to go to bed. I only live a couple of streets over. It’s not far, you could come right back.”

At this point, getting out of here and fresh air would probably do me some good, “Sure, Abigail, I can do that.”

“Thank you so much, I just didn’t want to walk home alone in the dark and you’re the only person I know here.”

“No problem.”

“Oh, and call me Abby, that’s what I like to go by now, okay?”

“Abby, it is then. I like that better too.”

As we get up to leave, Abby accidently trips and starts to fall. She catches herself by grabbing a nearby table full of snacks, but her hand knocks a big bowl of salsa over the edge, spilling it all the way down the leg of my jeans.

“Oh, no! I am so sorry, Kyle!” she shrieks.

“It’s okay. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’ve really had too much to drink.”

“I’ll get you home, it will be okay.”

She takes a wad of napkins off the table and gets down on her knees in front of me, wiping the salsa off my pants. People behind her take notice of our positions and eyebrows shoot up. From their point of view, it must look like Abby is giving me a blow-job right here in the middle of this crowded room.

“Woo Hoo! Would you look at this! Hey, you two, we have rooms for that upstairs!” a drunk guy hollers. This brings about a round of laughter from the others.

I know they’re drunk and just joking around, but I felt that was a nasty thing to say. I give the crowd a dirty look and reach under Abby’s arm to pull her up. “My pants are fine,” I tell her, “Let’s get you home now.”

Once outside, she is still upset about spilling the salsa on me, “I am so sorry I did that, I’m such a klutz.”