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A boy enters a college fraternity, but is coerced to follow the rules by the residents and his own family.
Author(s): mrsimple | 5 Warnings!
Content Keywords | Status: Completed | To Disqus!
MyReviews: 0

Chapter Three : Second Impressions
Posted: 2018-11-01 18:56:53 | Updated: 2018-11-01 18:56:53
Words: 3658

Next day, had to get our butts in gear.

I can barely move my jaw without some kind of pain. I think there is some TMJ in my right or something, I hear clicks. Not broken, x-ray yesterday would have spotted something. I know for a fact that dentists and doctors would not pass up an opportunity to yank more green dough out of our pockets.

Checking out everything in the bathroom mirror, I can see the swelling in my jaw and the nice shiny purpling that was spreading from the tip of my chin back. Yeah, that hallway fucker really did a number on me.

I'm a little hesitant to do this, but I go for the washcloth, rinse my face, get it soaped up, and wash off whatever I can. I scowl a pretty mug-shot when pressing against the obvious blotch on my jaw.

Rinse the clothe, I dunk my face in the sink to rinse again. Next up, razor!

That goes by smoothly, but I decide it is best to hop in the shower. Sometimes, when I shave, the clippings end up in my shirt and it makes me itch and dance like a madman.

Undressing, I stare at myself in the mirror.

My hair naturally has curls in it, but being long and weighed down, it appears straight. It doesn't help when I don't wash it regularly. The oils tend to mat it onto my head like its lifeless.

That is another reason I should change up my act. If I don't regularly bathe or shower, I'm going to get people complaining about me stinking in the community house. If I'm somehow supposed to get on their good side, then impressions are going to be a big deal from now on.

At least my face had an impression. Like my mom, I seem to take after her looks, which is funny. I've been told, ever since I was a kid, I'd grow up to be a male version of my mother.

How so?

The both of us have hazel eyes. Not quite exact, hers are lighter, more green, but mine are darker, browner. There is the same eyebrow oddity going on with us too. On our left brow, we have a split at the end. Like a forked eyebrow. It gives us a queer-stare, like our brow has lifted in confusion by what somebody said or did.

Interesting note, I have no control over my right brow. Can't lift it up or anything. Mom makes fun by saying that is the side she used to bounce me off the floor. Yeah, right.

On the page of odd things, my ears are rather interesting to note about. My mom has rounded ears, but mine are more pointed. They each have this thick, almost flat, but definite points to them. They used to say I have elf ears, when really little, but that isn't brought up anymore with these things tucked away beneath my hair.

Definitely have the high cheekbone factor going in there. This part, I hate, very much so. I don't think I should have to explain why, but I will. When someone takes a single look at me, they normally hit on the market around the eyes, but having it framed out like this makes me appear girly. Did I mention I look like my mom? I'm pretty sure I did.

My cheeks, jaw, and chin are normally smoothly narrowing down off the small rounded landing from my chin. Not right now. Got some swelling that has it look like I've got meat on this thing and could possibly wag it around. Not really, but it is painfully obvious that I got clocked by something hard.

I still have a metallic taste of my blood's iron in my mouth.

My neck and throat are just that. They hold my head up high and do cool things like help me swallow nasty stuff my mom gets from fast foods, if we decide not to hit restaurants.

I'm not in the best shape of my life. They say it is the stress getting to the two of us. I've had a few pounds added on from how often I've been passed off as a problem to the next college. Living expenses had gone up, I've had to help with getting a temporary job, and my time with my friends became non-existent.

Still, I don't let that get me down.

I work out when I can. When I Can. It helps, or so my guidance counselor use to say. I'd relieve the tension building in me and give it some purpose. Now, I feel and look like a couch potato.

What do I weigh? It looks like I'm bordering two-ten? That isn't too bad for a six footer, I suppose, but I'd rather that weight be more muscle than anything.

Welp, shower time.

In about five minutes in that shower, the water runs freezing cold. I have to smack the shower head to spray the wall and wait. I guess my mom flushed or is doing something with the water. Waiting, I try to hurry during the warm periods to get this done and over with, but avoid the cold moments.

I'll get dressed and head for the nearest seat to wait on mom.

I've never been capable of going out anywhere on time. My mom takes forever to put on her make-up. She's not attracting bachelors or anything, but to her, appearances make an impact.

Finally, we manage to make it out front where I can help her in the car. We hit the road, fast.

"You're not wearing a jacket during this weather, are you?" She asks me in a worried tone. We've probably been going for half an hour, and now she asks me?

"It rained like Hell the other day and I don't feel like getting caught up in it again," I state. It is true, but I am wearing this also for the pockets. There are a few inside of the jacket that allows me to sneak in some neat stuff. Oh, like, say, a book or two. I'm bored most of the time, I need something.

"It's not going to rain," she mentions about the weather reporter going off his own handle suggesting that this storm would be one of the worst if it gets in the valley, but it has to get in first. So far, lots of clouds, but none of it is rolling over these mountains.

In a hour, we do get the light drizzle on the windshield and I give my mom a victorious smug-grin. Back in the Caledonian Forest and to the college it is named after.

I'm not a fan of these woods anymore. The scent of worms is ever going to be present in my mind when I head out here. I did want to explore, but not a fucking chance anymore.

At the parking lot, I take a look from the left and right of that stream. I wasn't paying it any mind yesterday, but now I'm curious how that guy got me and himself across to the other side without a single person flagging us down.

Hell, that girl should have said something. It was obvious she didn't find what went down to be a comfortable sight. Maybe she is his girlfriend or something. I don't know, don't give a fuck about it anymore either.

Getting my mom out, then heading back into the building to conclude our prepared invite to the campus, we find the receptionist.

"Did you find a house yet?" The receptionist asks this plainly enough.

"Uh," is all that my mom lets slip out of my mouth.

"Yes he did. That's where he had been all day yesterday," my mom lied. Fuck me...

"Oh good, then that is a head-start. I'll let you sign here and we can be on our way to the office. Once we get you squared away, you can head back," concludes the receptionist.

What is a good way to describe this woman? Thin, old, wrinkly? Kind of reminds me of an apple-granny. That's baking a carved apple and throwing it in an oven to let it prune into an old face.

Heading to the office, I had to ask my mom about what I should say when it comes up about which house I'm staying in. I don't even know what houses there are!

"You'll do fine. I've already made a call," she informs me.

"What. What?" I do a double-take on my mom. "Who did you call?"

"The house, it is called... Oh, it has a horrible pronunciation," she says while fishing for something out of her bag. I guess her phone?

A card. She must have written it down, but if it had been difficult to pronounce... Well, she might have asked them to spell it out for her.


It sounds like a knock off of one those Greek names given to house-wards. I hope this place doesn't have some kind of hazing ceremony to get in.

"I guess they are a fishing club," she mentions.

"Why do you say that?" I take the card and try to make out where she is having this come from.

"Well, the Lure at the end is a dead give-away," one out of three words isn't winning my vote here, mom.

"Yeah, sure, right," I nod and hand the card back to her.

"Keep it, so you won't forget the name. Put it in your wallet?" That sounds like a great suggestion. Problem is, I don't carry a wallet. I have a couple cards, no bills, photos, or anything that would be carried in one of those.

I still pocket the card.

We enter the office.

At first, I thought the guy sitting at the desk was that fucker that gave me a new under-bite. No, this guy is much older, but they have the same macho-build. Maybe they both do football or something?

"Ms. Lynn? Nice to meet you," I hear while my mom's hand is taken in for a shake.

At least, I thought it was gonna be a shake. He leans down and plants a kiss on her knuckles, then a second on her fore hand before lifting back up. That threw us both off-guard.

"Please, have a seat," he suggests while coming around, still holding mom's hand, and pulling one seat out for her to take.

Seeing as I don't have to offer any assistance to my mom, I take my own seat.

Mom's hand is released and this guy returns to his side of the desk. We become more comfortable now that my mother's hand isn't being held hostage.

"This must be Adrian? Nice to meet you," he holds out his hand. I hesitate, giving my mom a look, but the guy lets out a small chuckle. "Don't worry, no kissies for you."

I go a little hot in the face and nod, biting my tongue. We shake hands, not sure how my mom is going to talk with this wacko. I guess one way to find out.

"I'm Mr. Rock," he informs us. "The Dean and owner of Caledonia," he mentions. I lower my brow and take another look at him, expecting him to finish his sentence, but it just sounded like he said he owns Caledonia. Not the college, but the whole entire township?

"Caledonia? The whole thing?" I ask, not really believing it, but had to figure I'd try probing. I still am interested where he gets his money from.

"Heh, yes, I've had it in my pocket for a few years now." How does someone buy a town? Someone explain that one to me.

"How?" Why am I the one initiating conversation here? I take an unbelieving glance and dart it towards my mom. She's still speechless? It was a kiss or two, mom! Get over it!

"When you have deeds that date back to the eighteenth century, it goes with the territory," he states. That means it wasn't him who owns it, but his family. Since he's rich, the government probably tried to negotiate some kind of purchase and he turned down the offer. At least, I think so...

Either way, I nod and shut up. It's mom's turn to interrogate the wack-job Dean.

"What house did you pick out?" His direction is still on me.

I suck in my lower lip and wet it before speaking, "Her Cellar?" I give it a shot, that is what it sounded like it was called.

He laughs, "Oh wow, I haven't heard that one, but it would not be a good idea to call it that. My son wouldn't appreciate it." Okay, he's got a kid here and probably lives there. "It is pronounced, Hire-Sill-Lore. It is from the lore of this forest." He waves at me, "You'll hear about it from the frat."

Oh shit, he called it a frat. Hazing.

I just smile and nod. Mom finally gets up on stage.

"I thought it sounded like a fishing club," you are going with that as your pick-up line, mom???

"Oh no, in fact, that is one rule to address while here. No fishing in the stream," the Rock has spoken and I nod. Don't like fishing to begin with.

"Will we be getting a pamphlet on all the rules and regulations?" I hear her say this, but I'm sure the receptionist was the one to ask about these.

"Yes, when you leave, Mrs. Wen will hand them out to you. Just ask," is that an asian name? She didn't look it, but maybe she's married to someone who is of that descent? I wonder if it is Chinese or Thai? Doesn't sound Japanese or Korean. Could be wrong.

At this point, my mind goes blank and I stare off into space, pretending to be listening in on the conversation these two are having. This is normal. I let her do the talking, I keep out and mind my own business until I'm called upon.

My eyes lower to look over the desk and see what kind of things can distract me awhile.

Time ticks away and I'm really getting bored now. There really isn't anything of interest for me to look at in here. One thing that surprised me is that there is no photos here.

When the next time my mom and him stop talking, I break a little chip of ice off the block, asking, "You have a son?" Forgot what I sounded like with a cotton wad in my mouth.

"Yes," he answers, "A little older than you. He's staying at the frat you'll be living in."

Oh, even better, a VIP to deal with. At least it makes it easier to one day convince the Dean to let me earn my keep here and ride out the credits onto the next year.

"I'm just surprised you don't have any family photos in here, that's all," I say before leaning back into a slouched rest in the chair. I look around again, just to be sure I didn't miss something and made myself out to be a jackass.

"I don't," is all he says. That sounded less than cold. Maybe they don't get along? That could be bad.

I keep my mouth shut for the remainder of the orientation.

"We brought all of his bags. Will it be okay for us to drop them off at the house?" My mom asks this while giving me an elbow in the ribs to sit up straight. I do.

"By all means, he can stay today if he wants. Tomorrow, you'll get to know where and who you will be going to see for classes," that there didn't sound good. I came for an Art Major, but if this is one of those colleges that requires I take a full course of study, I'm doomed.

"I thought he would only be participating in the Art departments?" My mom sweeps in to save the day.

"He will, but there is also classes that involve everyone to attend. Things like gym, literature, speech and social economics. These subjects would benefit him in the long run if Art doesn't end up being the right pick," he made that sound like Art is a joke!

"I've no issue with my creativity and I'll use it however I can. Art just happens to be one outlet," I throw out there for him to mull over before spitting the bloody cotton wad into his trash can.

The Dean looks at me, then leans back in his chair with a smile. "I think you are going to get along with my son just fine," he ends that with a series of small nods.

Mom gives me looks that could kill, but with a smile. Okay, I'll behave, and I give her a straighter posture to show that.

"What is your son's name, if I may ask?" My mom decides to subtly change the subject.

"Henry, or Henrick if you want, but he doesn't respond well to his given name," Henrick Rock versus Henry Rock. I can hear why. Henry and Rock roll on just fine together, whereas that Henrick and Rock click poorly, a bad match.

This was the last I could pay attention to the conversation. I was nodding off. Like I mentioned, I didn't sleep too good with this injury and surgery. Yeah, they consider extracting what little is left of the tooth as surgery.

I get shocked awake. Mom had to say my name twice to break me out of that spell.

"Yeah, I hear," I say in a slur. Then stand.

"Adrian, we're not going, sit," she tells me and I sit. She hands me a napkin, "Wipe up."

"Huh?" I am confused by what is going on. I look at the Dean and he points at my lip. I reach up and tap it with my fingertips, draw my hand away, and see the red-stain. I take the napkin and dab there.

"Will it be okay if he rests for awhile? He had a bad stumble here," my mom asks and informs Mr. Rock.

"Here?" He asks this rather in more concern that it happened under his watch.

"Yes, outside while it was raining. Right?" My mom looks over to me and I nod.

He looks between the both of us, nodding, and gestures for me to be given leave.

"It has been nice meeting you and I hope you get better soon," he tells me before I head out the office door.

I make my way through the hall and find the exit to get outside. I'll wait in the car. Seems like a good rally point to me.

Outside, I see a couple by the stone foundation of the building. Is this a hang-out spot?

My eyes narrow, the drizzle doesn't quite help me, but I'm certain that is the hall fucker from the other day. Why the Hell do those two not find a room to do that shit?

I was going to ignore them, head into the car, and wait out this whole affair, but something caught my eye. The last chick had been blonde. This was a red-head.

I got closer to inspect that peculiar difference. The ginger gave a slap on the fucker's chest and he paused to look my way.

"... You again?" He says this surprised rather than angry. I shrug and shake my head, taking the bloodied napkin away from my lip in the process.

"What do you have, a wardrobe of girls?" I nod at Ms. Red there. She didn't seem to find my comment very pleasant and I don't blame her. That actually was very disrespectful of me. "Sorry, just that, he broke the drinking fountain banging some other chick the other day."

"WHAT!?" That took her ire off of me and directed it to this douchebag here. Never cross a woman scorned, especially a red-headed one. She gave him quite a few more thrashings on his chest before he pushed off the wall to come at me.

"You know what, I should have dumped you in the creek rather than bury you in the woods. It would have carried your stinking mouth that further away from me," he claims while getting right up in my face.

This time, I swung first. One knock to his temple and he staggered away from me. I made sure to twist my fist just before the impact, drilling home.

"I- I'm... We're through, fuck off!" The redhead yells out before straightening up and darting off towards another set of buildings. Actually, she seems to be heading for a car? Maybe she doesn't go here?

"Ooff!" Fuck, distracted.

I'm lifted in the air for a split second, then thrown to the ground in the next half, feeling his weight down on my gut, and picking himself off the ground to orient himself over me. He glares down, then another one of those savage kicks makes itself comfortable in my side.

I gasp out loud and cradle what I hope is a still intact kidney. I'll find out the next time I piss.

"If I see you again, you won't get back up," he promises.

Okay, in his view, I am an asshole. I really am giving him shit while he's beating it out of me. I think I'll take him up on that offer and lay off his man-handling ways.

I manage to get up from the ground and find myself limping to mom's car. No idea why I feel pain down in my thigh, he kicked me in the waist, but it hurts worse down below it. I'll check it out when I sit down.

I grab the handle and tug.


I take in one deep breath and limp back to the stone building.

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