() + Pheacker Oneshots

Kid Extraordinaire In College

This story is dedicated to my good friend -Luki-nee-

Thank you for giving me a chance to write this! And thanks for making me snail ;)

The above art is not my own I found it in Google Images.

Enjoy my story! ~Kailly Ken

Philip Hamilton. Kid extraordinaire. Ok... Not really but still! I'm pretty damn great. My pops graduated top of his class and I'm determined to do nothing less.

"Shit Shit Shit Shit. DAD! Where the fuck are my car keys?"

Dad walks into the room holding them, "Key rack. Calm down, son. If you're anxious you're more likely to say something stupid. You'll be the smartest one there and it's only the orientation. Now go!"

I run out of the door and drive to campus. After an hour of driving I finally arrive and park before taking the last of my boxes up to my dorm room. Getting everything put away on my side of the room, I wait for orientation to begin. Having not met my roommate yet, I'm nervous.

I check my phone. 1:58 p.m. No roommate. I decide to head to the common room and wait the two minutes there.

I'm not the first there so I take a seat towards the back. The RA stands up and begins droning on about the rules in the booklet that I've already read.

I turn as I hear the door squeak open and in walks a tall dark skinned man with short curly hair. He clears his throat before speaking in a soothingly deep voice, "Sorry I'm late."

The RA waves him off and continues speaking. After getting and signing about a million papers, we're dismissed. I head back to my room and see that my roommate's belongings are now set up.

I want to meet him so I try staying up but I pass out. Some time after that, I hear the door open and close. I'm so tired I barely hear someone moving around before getting into the other creaky bed.

The next morning I wake up and my roommate's bed is made with precision and barely wrinkled. Not wanting to be late, I forgo breakfast. I make it to Philosophy on time and take a seat towards the front. As it's the first day, we don't go over much but the little we do cover, I've already read.

After that uneventful class, I swipe an apple from the cafeteria before heading to debate. Almost as soon as I walk through the door, the teacher has us pick sides on abortion.

"Impromptu debate! It'll teach you to be fast on your feet," the teacher begins.

Five minutes. We're FIVE MINUTES into class when the late boy from last night walks in. He now has half the time to prepare and I grin devilishly as he's going to suffer for this. His voice is just a soothing as yesterday and it makes it a little hard to focus on my anger or the topic I'm supposed to be preparing for. The man walks up to the teacher, "Eacker. George Eacker. I'm sorry for my tardiness."

At the mention of him being late, my blood boils as I start fuming to myself, "Is he always late? Does he even care? I bet his daddy spoils him rotten." My stupid anger keeps me from focusing on the topic at hand.

The exact details of the following class are too embarrassing to repeat but Eacker slaughtered me in the debate. Even with no time, it was as if he'd prepared for this topic all night. He was infuriatingly composed and egotistical.