Breaking Masks Page 2

  “Shit!” It was already nine-thirty and I was supposed to be at orientation in half an hour. I leaped out of bed and blindly grabbed some clothes from my drawers before running off to the shower. I started to wake Foster up, but decided he was a big boy and could worry about making it to orientation on his own. I felt a little more human when I got out of the shower. I pulled on my jeans and finger-combed my wet hair. That would have to do for now. I ran a hand over my cheeks. I needed a shave, but I didn't have time. I'd have to go for the scruffy look today. I yanked my T-shirt over my head and took off.

  I was half-way across campus before I remembered I had no idea where I was going. I came to a sudden halt and looked around me. I noticed I was close to the Administration Building. If anyone would know where I was supposed to be, they would. I ran up the stone steps and pulled open the large wooden doors. The lobby inside was cool and austere, rather like a mausoleum -- not the warmest place I'd ever been. I went to the table they had set up for new students and asked for directions. The lady there told me how to find the lecture hall we were meeting in and I was once again on my way.

  I burst out of the door, almost knocking some kid over. “Sorry,” I said distractedly, giving him a quick smile. He didn't even look old enough to be a student here.

  I rushed on to the auditorium and found that I'd arrived just in time. It looked like the whole freshman class had shown up and they hadn't quite chosen a large enough room. I took a look around while I waited for the show to begin. If I'd thought the Admin building was a tad ascetic, this room was downright tacky. I don't think it had been redecorated since the `70's. A strange avocado green tile covered the floor and shiny, gold drapes hung at the windows. I took one of the few remaining seats and shifted in a vain attempt to get comfortable. Obviously, whoever had designed these seats had not had comfort in mind.

  I was just about to abandon the seat for one of the poor shmoes standing in the back -- let them be uncomfortable -- when a balding man in a dark gray suit and maroon tie walked to the front of the room and cleared his throat. He looked like a career bureaucrat -- pasty complexion, a bit paunchy, and more than a bit nervous, as if he wasn't used to addressing a large crowd. He began to drone on about the campus and what was expected of us as the newest additions to the VRU family. I stifled a yawn while scratching my chin and wishing I'd had time to shave that morning. Stubble is so itchy. Now he'd started in about maintaining a good working relationship with the surrounding community. Translation: don't party too loudly and bother the neighbors.

  I'd pretty much completely spaced out when several people near me raised their hands. I almost raised mine too, but realized just in time that we were indicating our majors. I hadn't declared mine yet since I still had no clue what I wanted to do. I was taking general studies until I could make up my mind. Hopefully, that would be sometime before my senior year. I raised my hand at the appropriate time, then promptly zoned out again.

  Finally, we were dismissed and I joined the throng of kids moving towards the room's only exit. What a waste of a perfectly good hour, I thought to myself. I went back to my room only to find Foster and the Neanderthal already there. Apparently, they hadn't even gone to orientation. They were huddled around Foster's computer drooling over some website that featured scantily clad women with surgically enhanced assets. They each had a can of beer in hand and it wasn't even noon yet. I had a feeling it was going to be a long semester.

  “Hey, Jake,” Foster greeted me. At least he was friendly.

  “Hi Foster,” I responded.

  “Want one?” he offered, raising his can of Natural Light in my direction.

  “No, thanks,” I said as politely as I could manage. I'd get into the fact that I was in recovery at a later date.

  “You gonna hang out for a while?”

  “Uh, no, I, uh, have to go get my textbooks,” I said with a sudden burst of genius.

  “Oh yeah, I need to do that too sometime,” he said, turning back to the computer screen. I'd been dismissed. I got the impression that he'd already forgotten I was even there. I found my list of required books and left the room. I wondered if I'd ever be able to just relax in my room without the dubious honor of their company. I suspected their combined IQ would be roughly equal to that of your average sea cucumber.

  I found my way back to the building that housed the bookstore and Cool Beanz. The bookstore was surprisingly large. Besides books, they also sold just about everything you could possibly imagine emblazed with the school logo and mascot, the Van Rensselaer Red Roosters. When I first heard what the mascot was here, I thought it was pretty lame. After seeing the T-shirts they didn't advertise on the website, however, I'd changed my mind. The general shirt featured a large cartoon of the red rooster with the caption, “How big is your...?” The first time I saw one, it only took me a few seconds to get the joke, but maybe I just have a dirty mind. They had shirts for all the sports. For crew, there's a cartoon of the rooster rowing and the caption reads, “Stroke...” For swimming, it's a dripping rooster and “Wet...” My favorite, however, was for the equestrian team. Yep. A rooster on horseback... “Riding...” I wanted to buy one even though I've never been on a horse.

  I tore myself away from the shirts and found the textbook section, but quickly realized I should have preordered my books. It seemed like everything I needed was already sold out. Or maybe I just didn't know what the hell I was doing. I couldn't believe every single book was gone. I looked around but the only people who seemed to be working were behind the counter and they were busy with other customers. The place was crowded with freshmen, most of them with their parents who must have stayed until after orientation. I decided to come back later in the afternoon when, hopefully, it wouldn't be quite as hectic.

  I wandered aimlessly around campus for a little while, familiarizing myself with the layout until my growling stomach reminded me that it was lunch time. I hadn't eaten breakfast, and come to think of it, I'd skipped dinner the night before too. No wonder I was so hungry. I went to the cafeteria and the guy at the door swiped my meal card. I grabbed a tray and wandered around checking out the various offerings. The food didn't look too bad, but I ended up with a couple slices of cheese pizza and a cup of coffee. I sat at a table by myself and took a wary sip of the coffee. Thankfully, it was more palatable than the crap from Cool Beanz, but still nothing special. At least it was drinkable. A few minutes later, I was surprised when someone sat down next to me. I looked up to find Becca.

  “Hi Jake,” she said brightly.

  “Hi Becca.”

  “Do you mind if I join you for lunch?”

  “Not at all.” I glanced down at her lunch, which consisted of a small cup of fruit salad and a bottle of spring water. “You call that lunch?”

  She giggled and motioned to a tall, model thin blonde with prominent cheekbones and an outfit straight from the pages of a fashion magazine. “That's my friend Adrienne. You don't mind if she sits with us, do you?”

  What could I do except nod? I watched in fascination as the blonde made her way across the room towards us. I was afraid she'd throw a hip out before she got to the table she swung her hips so much. She looked like she was strutting down a runway. As she sat down across from me, Becca made introductions. We shook hands and I noticed that Adrienne's lunch was a tiny plate of lettuce with a small mound of cottage cheese in the center. How had I ended up at the anorexic table?

  We made small talk while everyone ate, or while I ate and they poked at their fruit and lettuce and pretended to eat. I learned that Becca and Adrienne were both from Schenectady and majoring in elementary education. For the life of me, I couldn't picture Adrienne in a classroom full of five year olds.

  After we'd finished with our lunches, Adrienne and Becca announced that they were off to get manicures. “Why don't I call you later and maybe I can show you how to find The Morning Rush?” Becca suggested before they left. I agreed and watched the two of them swish their way towards the door. />
  “I need to make some guy friends and soon,” I muttered to myself, “preferably gay.” The university had a gay/straight alliance that met on campus, but meetings wouldn't start for another few weeks. Despite Becca's overtures, I was feeling very lonely. I had no illusions about her interest in me. She thought I was hot and she wanted a trophy boyfriend. Once I came out to her, she seemed like the type that would drop me so fast you'd think I was a dog turd.

  With a sigh, I gathered up the girls' trash, which they'd considerately left sitting on the table, and threw it away with mine. Now, how to spend the rest of my day? I decided to go check out some of the planned activities Baldy had talked about this morning.

  I managed to waste a few more hours playing mindless games before I figured I couldn't take it any more. I hadn't met anyone I wanted to become friends with and I was getting sweaty. I'm of the opinion that there's only one time when it's okay to be sweaty, and this wasn't it. I decided to head back to my room and risk another encounter with Foster and his sidekick.

  I opened the door hesitantly, but was immediately relieved to find it vacant. Two empty beer cans sat on Foster's desk, a testament to their former occupancy. I turned my computer on and signed on to Instant Messenger. My friends names appeared in my buddy list and a pang of homesickness washed over me in a wave of longing. I chatted with my friends from home, telling them all about VRU and trying to make it sound like things were going better than they were. I talked for a couple hours before everyone left to go eat. I decided it was a good time for me to do the same, so I returned the cafeteria. I ate alone this time and wasn't all that bothered by the fact. When I got back to the room this time, Foster was there -- alone for a change.

  “Hey Jake,” he welcomed me. “Want a beer? I was just getting ready to get one.”

  “No thanks.”

  “Want something harder? I've got Smirnoff, Bacardi, Jim Bean...”

  “No, I'm fine,” I said quickly, cutting him off. “Actually, I don't drink.”

  He blinked stupidly at me, as if I'd just told him I was an alien from Uranus. “You don't drink?” he repeated.

  “Nope.”

  “At all?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Are you, like, religious or something?”

  I laughed. “No, nothing like that.”

  “So you don't mind if I drink?”

  “As long as you don't get us in trouble for having it in the room, I guess I don't care.”

  “But why don't you drink?”

  There was going to be no avoiding this one. Foster was as tenacious as a pit bull. “I'm a recovering addict,” I told him bluntly.

  He blinked at me again. “But you're just a kid.”

  “There's an age limit on alcoholism?” I asked, making an effort to keep my tone light. It wasn't his fault he's a moron.

  “I guess not.” He pondered that for a minute, then said, “Wow, I guess that's pretty cool that you stopped then. Are you sure it won't bother you to have it in here?”

  Maybe he wasn't so bad after all. I smiled at him and tried not to remember the way the alcohol had called to me the night before. “No, it doesn't bother me, but thanks for asking.”

  I grabbed a novel off my desk and settled onto the bed. It was one I'd read before, a Faye Kellerman mystery, but it was worth a second read and anything was better than conversing with Foster. I was just starting the fourth chapter when the phone rang, sending me about a foot into the air. Foster scooped up the receiver and grunted a greeting.

  “It's for you,” he said, holding the phone in my direction.

  I took it from him and said hello.

  “Hey Jake, it's Becca,” she chirped. “You still up for coffee?”

  “I'm always up for coffee,” I told her, setting the book aside.

  “Great! Meet me in front of the Admin building in like ten minutes.”

  “Okay. See you in ten.” I hung up and jumped off the bed.

  “You got a hot date?” Foster asked with a grin.

  “Something like that,” I said as I peeled off my shirt and pulled on a fresh one.

  “She sounded hot on the phone,” he commented.

  I decided that was best left alone. I pulled on my shoes, said bye, and jogged down the stairs to meet Becca. She was waiting for me when I got there. She kept up a constant stream of chatter as we walked, most of which I blocked out in the interest of my mental health. Luckily, The Morning Rush was only a few blocks off campus. It was a rather plain storefront from the outside, large plate-glass windows were set flush with the brick wall and a neon sign in the shape of a coffee mug on wheels hung above the door. Someone had made an effort to spruce it up a bit by adding awnings, but it was kind of like putting lipstick on a pig. A sign in one window declared this to be The Morning Rush. We pushed open the door and the rejuvenating scent of java hooked itself into my nostrils, reeling me in like the catch-of-the-day. I almost forgot about Becca as I made a beeline for the counter. A petite blonde who looked to be in her late thirties was taking orders. Her nametag read “Marla.”

  “I'll have one of everything,” I gushed.

  “That's my kind of customer,” someone yelled from a semi-open door behind the counter.

  Marla grinned. “That would be Max, the manager. Is this your first time here?”

  “Yeah, I'm starting at VRU.”

  “You should try the double cappuccino with whipped cream,” she suggested with a welcoming smile.

  Before I could say a word, Becca sidled up to the counter and eyed Marla disdainfully, placing her hand possessively on my arm. “We'll have two espressos, but thanks for the recommendation,” she said condescendingly. I flinched away from her touch, but she just dug her fingers in tighter.

  Marla's eyes narrowed, but she simply turned and prepared the drinks for us without comment. She handed us the cups and Becca led me to a corner table closest to the front window.

  “You didn't have to be so rude to her,” I said, as we sat. “She was just being nice.”

  “She obviously saw us come in together and she still threw herself at you.” she said. “She wasn't even subtle about it.”

  Like you are, I thought. “She didn't throw herself at me. She made a recommendation. Besides, it's not like we're dating,” I said out loud.

  “True,” she said with a little smirk. The word “yet” hung in the air as if she'd spoken it aloud. She batted her eyes and leaned forward, resting one elbow on the table and stretching her shirt tight across her breasts. That ain't gonna work on me, sister.

  I took a sip from the cup in my hand and almost groaned in delight. She'd been right about this place, at least. The espresso was perfect. I closed my eyes and savored the flavor.

  “You really take your coffee seriously,” Becca said, interrupting my moment. She sounded a little peeved, probably because the espresso had taken her place as the center of my attention. This chick was merrily tap-dancing on my last nerve.

  I opened my eyes and gave her a level look. “I gave up drugs and alcohol. This is my last bad habit. Let me enjoy this one in peace, huh?”

  She pouted a bit, but allowed me to finish my drink in relative silence. It was well after dark when we left the coffee shop. As we made our way back towards campus down the still busy street, I thought about how romantic this walk would be with the right person. Unfortunately, Becca was not the right person, and she chose that moment to remind me of that fact.

  “This was a nice date,” she said suddenly. My first thought was: That was a date? It was followed quickly by: And if so, was she on the same date I was?

  “It wasn't a date,” I said sharply.

  She batted her eyes at me again and I considered clawing them out. “You mean you don't want to date me?” What fantasy world was this girl living in?

  “No, I really don't,” I answered truthfully.

  She spun around to face me and stopped walking. “Why not?” Great, now she sounded hurt.

  “I don't
think we'd be very compatible.” It's very hard to enunciate when you're speaking through clenched teeth.

  “Why not?”

  “I just don't.”

  “But why not?”

  “Because I'm gay!” I snapped.

  Her eyes darkened with anger. “Look, if you don't want to date me, just say so. You don't have to make up some stupid story about being gay.”

  I almost laughed in her face. “I already said I didn't want to date you.”

  “Arg! I...you...Arg!” She spun on her heel and stormed away. I stood watching her for a moment, before continuing on my way. One good thing had come out of this little excursion -- I now knew where to find good coffee.

  “That was fast,” Foster said as I let myself back into our room. “Strike out?”