8 Pencils 1 Sharpener

PART ONE: FRESHMEN Chapter One

Summoning a shaky breath for courage, Ashley Landsiy took his first few hesitant steps into the grounds of Hope University. Slung over his shoulder was the strap of his mother's hot pink duffle bag, the only of which he could find. Inside were a few t-shirts, boxers (he preferred to let his fruit sway freely), a spare pair of jeans and a toothbrush. The rest of his belongings were crammed into his dull grey suitcase which rolled along beside him, the wheels clicking and clacking as it went over the beige cobble walkway.

A light breeze rustled the green-turning-amber leaves of the sycamore trees that had been planted in two neat rows on the campus, acting as a natural red carpet to the main building. The limestone bricks of the structure gave a cold welcome as they loomed over Ashley's head. The blurred interior behind the double glass doors came into view as he drew closer.

The warmth of the autumn sun on his back was replaced with a strong burst of air conditioner as he stepped through the doors. His footsteps rang put on unpolished marble, the sound ricocheting off the high maroon walls. Local newspaper cutouts of minor achievements previous students had received were hung all around the room. Apart from a glass table with a few chairs around it, the only piece of furniture in the room was a large oak desk with what appeared to be hundreds of books in piles atop of it.

Ashely could make out a small head bobbing up and down behind the stack of books, and seeing that he didn't know what else to do or where to go, he made his way to the desk. Once directly in front of it, he discovered that the bobbing head belonged to that of an older gentleman, with obviously dyed reddish-purple hair that was barely enough to warm his head. Thin blankets of wrinkles sat upon his forehead, and a pair of thinner rimmed glasses framed dark eyes.

"Um, hi?" Ashley said, accidentally turning the statement into a question. The dark eyes looked sharply at him. "Name?" the man asked in a stern voice.
Not used to such a tone, a taken a back Ashley managed to stammer the words "A-Ashley Landsiy...s-sir."

"I'm not sir." he declared as he bent over a dated laptop and began typing something on the chunky keyboard. Then he stood up abruptly and leaned over the desk to one of the massive piles of books. Muttering to himself, he picked up six of the thickest looking books Ashley had ever seen with ease. He shoved them into Ashley's arms, whose body dropped from the immense weight.

The man ducked under his desk, popped back up and tossed a set of keys onto the top of Ashley's pile of books. Glancing back at his computer, he spoke in an almost rapid tone, as if this were routine.
"In your application you asked for on campus accommodation. Unfortunately we could not find a spare room, but we managed to squeeze you into a Hope University owned house, of which you will be sharing with..." His voiced trailed off as with a few clicks, a printer hidden from view buzzed and whirred to life.
"...seven other students. Now, your year mentor is Professor McFonald, you'll go to room 302 every second morning for assembly. This here—" He pulled a sheet of paper from the printer, folded it, and placed it next to the set of keys on the books.
"—is a map of campus, rooms etc, and on the back is a map of the route to get to your accommodation. We expect you to be in room 302 by nine o'clock tomorrow morning. This here is reception, in case you haven't realised. My name is Gregory and welcome to Hope University."

With that, Gregory sat back down and continued to type, ignoring the quizzical expression plastered on Ashley's face, or seeing him stagger out of the building with books in one trembling hand, map and suitcase in the other, the set of keys in his mouth.

*******

After taking several wrong turns and dropping the heavy pile of books onto his foot, Ashley finally arrived at what must have been the university owned accommodation. First impressions gave Ashley a sense of home, as the two storey house was that same shade of mint green as his childhood home. A white wooden porch complemented the trimmed emerald lawn. Chipped cement tiles led to the royal blur door, its black handle shining in the sun as Ashley slipped a key into the lock. Hearing it click, he opened the door and entered.

The first thing he was greeted with was a small hallway with a set of stairs to the right of him, leading up to the second floor. Ashley kicked his worn runners off and let his feet sink into a soft, pitch black carpet. An open door way beckoned to him on his left, as the scent of chocolate wafted through the house. Curious, he stepped into what he assumed was the living room, which was furnished with two large brown leather couches and a puffy white armchair that resembled a cloud. All faced a 20" screen television which rested atop of a set of drawers.

A clutter from his right startled Ashley. He jumped around to face a fresh hold that housed the kitchen, but that wasn't what made his jaw drop in shock.

Standing before him was a lad with a mop of auburn hair, his face and shirt covered in Nutella, eating from a jar of the stuff with the end of a toothbrush.