Outcast (Wiltshire University Book 1)

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Annnnnnnd nothing. Damn. I should have figured out the toe thing. Venturing into my room, I set my overloaded bag onto the naked mattress. Free from the weight of it, I trudged back to the light switch by the door flicking the antique switch. As the fluorescent light illuminated the room, I studied the stark space for any detail I may have missed. Only the standard-issue furniture, the bed with built-in drawers, desk, nightstand, microwave/fridge combo, and chair, remained. My bathroom wasn't any better off, everything, including my shower curtain and toilet paper, had been taken. Awesome. I better not need to pee any time soon. Who takes toilet paper?

Out in the hall, a door slammed shut. Darting out of the bathroom and across the room I jerked my door open, thrusting my head out. This was the first sign of anyone in the building since I came back from class and I didn't want to miss my opportunity to get some answers. Scanning up and down the hallway I searched for the door slammer. Nothing. I frowned, retreating back into my room, letting the hydraulics shut the door behind me.

A blinking light from the landline on my desk, another school issued fixture, caught my eye. Despite the fact everyone had cell phones, literally everyone, Wiltshire still provided each student in student housing with a dedicated landline. Amusingly, each student was assigned a four-digit phone number to make it easier to call your friends on grounds, because who learns numbers anymore? I had yet to use my landline. To be fair, I wasn't exactly killing it in the friend game yet, and by not killing it I mean I hadn't made a single friend, and the landline actually charged you to call people who weren't located on grounds, so it wasn't like I was going to use it to call Zane or Sawyer. How weird is that? Like, it costs different amounts of money to call people depending upon where they are in the country. How did people ever use those things? I mused, hypnotized by the blinking message light.

Prior to coming to Wiltshire, I never had a hard time making friends. Sawyer and Zane have been my best friends since pre-school when our mothers signed us up for the same mother's-day-out program. All the other friends I made over the years just seemed to come into my life with ease. Oh, you hate the no bobbling rule in foursquare? Me too! We're friends now. You think swim team practice is waaaay too early too? Friends! We have the same period English? Friends! Ok, as I got older the friend thing didn't happen quite that instantly, but even the simplest point of commonality was enough for a jumping off point. Not at Wiltshire; several weeks into the semester, and as far as I could tell there was some secret way to make friends here that I missed at orientation, probably when I got lost trying to find the bathroom and missed the first thirty minutes of our lunch break the first day. In my defense, that bathroom was really out of the way.

I couldn't help the smile that spread across my face at the thought of Zane and Sawyer. Zane seemed the odd man out in our little trio considering he was the lone guy. A sports fanatic, Zane tried his hand at just about everything his mom could find to sign him up for. Sawyer and I were along for the ride, dragging posters with Zane's number to every game and cheering for him. We knew Zane was both horribly embarrassed by us and loved every second of our sideline antics. Luckily for all involved Zane was a natural at every sport he tried. Hitting several growth spurts, including the one that has him pushing 6'5" and towering over me, didn't hurt his ability to excel on the field and his securely held position as athletic god among our classmates. A position that prevented him from getting mocked incessantly for his duo of rabid fans. Whatever, I still maintain our artfully crafted posters were amazing.

Zane's easy-going attitude and sports aptitude drew a lot of attention his way, something he didn't outright seek but was made for. He would balk when Sawyer dragged us to the post-game parties, complaining the whole way there, and then have the best time, really coming alive in the crowd. It's not that Zane needs to be the center of attention, he is just as happy to find a quiet spot around the fire and talk about whatever, but throw him in a crowd and everyone will be hanging on his every word as he charms the pants off them with the greatest of ease.