The Switching Arrangement

Chapter 4

This chapter is longer than the usual, but I hope you'd stick to the end because it's really important to the plot. Enjoy reading! 

After a few games, I let the whole team get a break before we talk about what can be improved and adjusted with the gameplay.

I sit on the bench near the basketball court with Cameron and take out the weird-looking turkey sandwich I bought at the cafeteria before I went to see Mr. Rowland.

Cafeteria food is never good, but it beats the food you get at the hostel. Now, those. Those are the real winners! Unlike 60 percent of the population in South Cross, I don't get the luxury of going back home to a nice, home-cooked meal.

Instead, I go to a hostel with the other 40 percent and eat whatever it is I get served with. Sometimes, it's not that bad. We get a few mac and cheese once in a while.

But, most of the times, you can't even tell what you're eating. On really good occasions, my friends and I could even play a game of 'Guess What Weird Shit Is in Today's Stew!'

After a minute of silent chewing, – me with my turkey sandwich and Cameron with his packet of mini Oreos – Cameron slaps my arm, which is his favorite way of getting my attention.

"Hey, I heard you get called by Rowland?" he asks.

"Yeah,"

"Something's wrong?"

"Yeah, I got into... some trouble," I reply, bluffing.

"The heck? What did you do? How come I don't know?" he asks, face scrunched in confusion.

"I... sneaked into the girls' dorms last week. Then stole someone's bra," I say, trying to keep a straight face.

Cameron's jaw drops and he looks at me with a 'are you kidding me?' look etched on his face.

I am currently hurting from holding in my laughter. His reactions are just priceless and the sole reason everyone loves to tease him so much.

"What the actual fuck? How come I don't know? Dude, what were you thinking? There's no freaking way--" 

Don't . Laugh.

He stops. "Wait," the shock in his eyes disappears, replaced with annoyance. "Isn't Rowland a college guidance counselor?" Cameron asks.

I let out the laugh I've been holding.

"Fuck you," he says, pointing his finger at me. "I genuinely thought you've gotten your hands on a pair from Bridgett Olson," he says, pretending to be offended.

"Gross. Not worth it," I reply, still lightly laughing. For some reason, I find girls like Bridgett- who most boys seem to agree to be the hottest girl in our senior class – a bit off-putting. Just the sheer amount of make-up she puts on a daily basis could probably bring a clown to tears.

"Yeah, I forgot. You've got weird taste in girls,"

"It's called having standards?" I answer, sarcastically.

Cameron chuckles. "Sure. Sure, bro. Whatever floats your boat."

He pops another mini Oreo into his mouth and looks back at me. "But, seriously though, why did the college guidance counselor need to see you?"

I snicker at the thought of that reason. An image of Mr. Rowland suggesting that I join theater pops into my head. "He wants me to join another after school activity so that I'll have a better chance of getting into a good college,"