22.02.12
After setting up, the only thing wrong with the picture is my roommate, standing there in his pleated khaki shorts and an annoying shirt with too many numbers on it to be normal. He’s even wearing a belt, braided nonetheless. He’s not even passable for average. He fits every stereotype of the dweeb right down to the ugly glasses and skinny neck and chicken legs.
His voice cracks when he asks me what classes I’m taking. I ask him how old he is, twelve? Sixteen, he says. Graduated early.
Figures.
~
I wake up at six in the evening. A four hour nap. It’s still light out, though I’ve noticed the days getting shorter. I look over and Roger is doing something with highlighters and books thick enough to make me not take any of the classes connected to them. At least he is quiet. That’s one thing I’ll give him.
I grab my towel and little hand-held shower caddy. Roger’s sits on the counter next to mine. His is light purple, with a flower on the side. I can only hope his mother picked it out for him.
Source: Scholars and Rogues