Chapter 5

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A/N:
As always, I warn that this chapter is not edited.
It's finals time for me now, so I've been writing a lot when I'm not studying. I only have two exams, one tomorrow and one at eight o'clock on next Wednesday, but it's still super stressful.
Enjoy the chapter, guys, because I might not be on here to post the next one for a little bit.
As always, opinions/thoughts are welcomed.
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I wake up feeling like one of those stereotypical characters in a book or movie, the guys who wake up someplace new and can't remember how they got there.

It takes a little bit for me to register that no, this isn't my bedroom at home and yes, I am in fact still stuck at the Perkins School.

It only takes me a couple more seconds to notice that someone is pounding away at the door of mine and Derek's suite.

Following the same logic I've always utilized in the mornings, I reason that if I ignore it for long enough the inconvenience will go away and I'll be able to get back to sleep.

Closing my eyes, I've just started to drift off when another round of knocking begins.

I roll over, pulling the covers over my head and desperately wishing for more sleep. I had a long day yesterday, and despite what must have been at least twelve hours of sleep, I'm still a little tired.

I register the sound of the bathroom door opening, then Derek's voice as he crosses our room toward the door.

"All right," he snaps, "I hear you. I'm coming."

He opens the door, and Amber's exclamation cuts through the momentary silence.

"Wow, took you long enough!"

I push back the covers, realizing now that my hopes of getting more sleep are practically nonexistent.

Amber is marching across the room, depositing what appears to be a skateboard on the floor. She's holding some sort of muffin in her left hand, and she takes a ravenous bite from it as she sits on my roommate's bed. She's wearing a pink and silver helmet, her hair pulled back in a high ponytail.

A second girl follows her through Derek's door.

She's about five and a half feet tall, with shoulder-length, honey-blonde hair.

"Breakfast already?" Derek wonders, looking first at Amber.

She nods, still devouring the muffin like it's the last one she'll ever have.

"It's eight-fifty, Derek," the blonde complains, "breakfast is pretty much over."

"My bad." Derek says lamely, sitting next to Amber on his bed.

Amber's companion shoots Derek a look, taking up a position in his desk chair.

"Let's see if I can figure out what's wrong with your piece-of-crap computer. Really, this model is practically an antique."

Amber unsuccessfully tries to stifle her laughter, then catches sight of me.

"Morning, Tim!"

Yawning, I mumble something in response that sounds vaguely like "morning."

"Derek," Amber warns, "you better not be tormenting him. I was tormented enough waiting for him yesterday at the airport. Eesh, I was stuck standing by that baggage claim with the devil worshiper forever."

"Marco isn't a devil worshiper, and I really wish you'd stop calling him that." The blonde snaps irritably. This girl opens Derek's laptop, then glances in my direction. She skewers me with a curious stare, her sky-blue gaze meeting my emerald one as she studies me intently.

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