-----

Moving was just awful.

I didn’t tell anyone, even if Mom sorta guessed, and Barry told me he knew it was no fun, just so I knew he knew... but it was. It was way worse than they thought.

I threw away all my stuff before I packed. I was gonna be in the men’s rez and I had to. I was going to stop. Period. Forever. It took weeks trashing and destroying it bit by bit so nobody would know. Making invisible stuff disappear. It woulda been funny if it hadn’t hurt so much.

Mom, Dad, Barry and my sister Jan all helped me move and all said goodbye and good luck and they’d be visiting lots and I’d be home all the time too. . .and all that.

I almost couldn’t talk. Finally being there, here, I didn’t want to even go to college any more. I hated it, that I wanted to cry, that I was so mad, or sad, that I felt lonely, even if that makes no sense.

But it was all because of here. Rez. Men’s residence. Prison and alone and all my things gone.

Dennis Trent was already set up in our room. He was my new roommate ‘cause I was in a double room in a really old residence dorm, Tanner Hall, because all the first years had to have doubles, and live in residence.

If I’d gone to State I’d’ve had a single. Here I had no privacy. So no stuff, ever. And no time alone.

Dennis was nice enough and everybody got along with him really well and were laughing at jokes and stuff the whole time but I mostly was quiet and I guess Mom noticed that ‘cause she kinda hung around me and was quiet too and when all of the others were down at the van one time she pulled me to sit on my bed and gave me a hug.

“Lots of changes, mmm?”

I nodded at the floor. I knew she was worried but I just couldn’t pretend I was happy like Dad and Jan. Or Barry. He always got along with Dad better than I did. The jock and the fireman. Everything sucked. I couldn’t tell her why, or anyone, either, which made it worse. Tons worse, even if I’d never tell anyway.

“I.... If I could’ve gone to State....” I knew we’d already talked and argued and explained all about it, but I still was mad, or sad anyway, about not going with Barry and Jan. And Carol. Like we planned. And I coulda kept some stuff... I would’ve had my own room.

Mom hugged me harder. “I know, honey, I know... and I’m sorry you’re not happy right now but we still think you’ll do so much better here, and soon you'll make friends and Dennis is really nice, isn’t he?”

He was. But I wasn’t happy and it didn’t matter.

~*

“Oh, maaannn!” Dennis leaned over and plopped his forehead on my shoulder in dramatic misery.

The very first class of the term, very first day of classes, Intro Psych, and we’re told we had to “volunteer” to be subjects for grad projects on our own time. Lots of our own time.

Some of them sounded weird enough to be fun, like human lab rat stuff, and the prof was kinda goofy about it. But most were just extra work.

Like the one study, the prof said it was a really important one that every first year student was doing, not just in psychology. It was this fifteen page book of questions that we all had to do, right in the main class, almost right at the beginning.

There were all sorts of questions, computer tick answers, but hard. There was easy stuff like favorite foods and colors and songs and stuff, but tons more complicated questions about, well, like how to answer, like the right *words* instead of the right *thing* and lots about what people do, choices and right and wrong and stuff. Even sex questions, like about what girls would do, or boys, different. Not *sex* sex.. but different thinking. Tons of stuff, and some of it was really hard to choose, to keep the boy and girl stuff apart.

-

It took me almost forty-five minutes and everyone was waiting for me and I was beet red when I had to bring it up to the front, the last one.

The really tall guy who was waiting came up half way and took it from me and left the class. He almost ran. He’d taken out booklets all through the class, like three other times, but this time it was just mine. Everyone watched him. And me. When I got back to my seat Dennis whispered to remember the prof said it didn’t matter how long it took and it was okay. But I was even more embarrassed he said that.

Anyway, at the end of class (it was really short after that, just textbook, marks and exam info) at the end we all had to make sure we stuck on the paper badges from the question booklet things and troop into another room right across the hall to choose our “volunteer” work.

There were about a dozen projects all set up at tables, like a science or job fair, with grad students and applications and computers and little cardboard advertising displays and all that kinda stuff. There were more students than our class wandering around, too, so the room was pretty full.

We were the last ones in the room ‘cause Dennis had had to talk to the prof about using an old textbook or something and I wanted to see if I could at least sign up to do the same stuff as him, so I waited too.

Right inside the door a really pretty woman asked if our tag things were from our own booklets and then she read mine out loud (numbers) and the same tall guy who took my booklet typed it in a laptop, or he typed something, anyway. The table was set up like a little office. A scanner and printer and all.

There were three other people at the table, two guys and a woman, besides the really pretty woman, and they all looked at him. The tall guy. He pointed at it to the others and the really pretty woman went around to look at whatever it was too.

And then they smiled at just me, except the tall guy with the computer nodded at me and did something else and kinda talked at the screen.

“Robert Samuel Johanson?”

“Bobby.” I hate being called Robert. My dad's Robert. And my name wasn’t on the test.

“Student number?”

I told him (I had to find my card) but he was just checking. And he knew my dorm room, and Dennis’ name (he checked it was him) and that we were roommates, and my schedule. Everything. He had like the whole university on the thing, or was connected or something. Wireless, I guess.

Then they all kinda sat back in their chairs and the pretty woman stood up straight again, all at once, like the computer had said ‘The End’ or something, and the pretty lady smiled really big and said they’d like me to be in their study. Then she kinda thought of it and read off Dennis’ sticker numbers to the tall guy and they all looked at the screen again, maybe even longer, and the tall guy pointed at some things and they all nodded and the pretty lady said Dennis should go and look at the other projects.

He tried to look mad or something but he was pretending and tapped my arm ‘bye and went in to look at the other tables.

I sat down and they said they had funding and they’d be able to pay me and the main thing was a big questionnaire thing every month, all year, and they’d buy lunch or whatever when we did too. They all nodded dead serious at me, except the pretty woman. She just smiled.

“What else do I have to do?” I figured there had to be a catch. No such thing as a free lunch?

Viola (I just noticed they had paper name tags with actual names) kinda perked up even more.

“Weekly phone or drop-in check-ins? They’ll only take a few minutes at most, and weekly counseling at the student support services offices, and then a once a month thing that has to be in person, and will be similar to the questions on the form you did in there.”

I was thinking, counseling? For what? I was a bit afraid of counselors and psychiatrists... and what if it was ‘cause of my stuff? Maybe the test thing could tell? Then I thought maybe that’s what their study was about. But I couldn’t ask. And they were interested in Dennis, but didn’t ask him...

“How come Dennis isn’t in this too?”

“You just fit the student profile we’re looking for.” The tall guy looked at the screen again. “And he doesn’t.”

He looked up at me and smiled a second, like just to be polite. I thought that it wasn’t like he was sneering at me or anything.... he wasn’t looking at me odd at all. None of them were. Geeky, but not bad.

Viola added “And he *is* in the study, sort of, already. Every freshman on campus is, just some are doing the followups and counseling? It’s part of the way the study works.”

After a moment thinking that that made sense, and they weren’t being mean, and I guess they didn’t know, I asked about stuff like how long the counseling was gonna be, and when. They said as long as the whole year, and right away.

Anyway, I finally said okay, and they smiled *way* more realistically.

There was the big release form the prof told us they’d have, that lets grad students experiment on freshmen that took about twenty minutes to read and ask questions about (they made me), and a kinda ‘what am I doing in school’ form, with all the classes I was taking already on it (they printed it right there) and I filled in what I wanted to do for fun and stuff, even if I didn’t in the end, after Viola asked me to, and then we figured out a maybe time for our first big meeting in four weeks and they gave me a card for the counseling offices that Viola said she’d call me about, and we were done.

At last. It took almost a half hour.

I noticed other grads putting away their stuff, and then that almost all of them were gone. I looked around and there was nobody from the freshmen classes left, just Dennis reading a paperback and waiting for me I guess, and Professor Hawkins leaning on a table, and looking at me like I was doing something interesting, or wrong.

I should mention that I’m really, really insecure, I guess.

I grabbed my forms and tried to hurry out, but Professor Hawkins smiled at me on my way past and said I might enjoy their project.

I didn’t know what to say to that, but I tried to smile back.

Then a really weird thing happened. Bad weird.

There were about ten students in the hall, I think all from our class, and when I came out behind Dennis they *all* stopped talking, and looked at me.

It was totally scary, like a nightmare, really unreal. Professor Hawkins was right behind me and bumped me and I and spilled all the release forms all over and was embarrassed to death.

But then *they* all looked embarrassed too, I mean, everyone in the hall, like all at once.

After, I thought maybe it was her they were looking at. The prof, I mean. Maybe waiting for her, but I was shaking when I finished stuffing the papers in my pack and I left as fast as I could. I was sure the prof was looking at me, even when she was helping with picking up.

Dennis said he didn’t think she was, after. But he said I should sit down too, ‘cause I was shaking. He probably thinks I’m insane.

I want to quit the study. Maybe psych, too. I have to be in the study, but only like Dennis.

~*

Our floor proctor’s a senior named Jarrod (like the sub guy, ha ha ha.) Proctors are kinda the guys in charge of each hall, all through the rez.

We met all of them for Tanner and Walsh (the girls-only rez) at a big meeting on Friday that was supposed to make us all friends, or at least tell us about all the rez programs and stuff. They’re all nice, I guess, but way more party types than me, or Dennis even, he said.

Jarrod came around every night the first weekend to tell us about something or other going on, but mostly to say hi, so we could talk, he said. He was nice, but we’d never be chums, y’know?

Anyway, that night when he came around Dennis said he just wanted to lie around, and I was glad I had an excuse not to even try, like I usually felt I had to.

So we made hot air popcorn (Dennis brought a popper) and drank coke and talked about what we thought we might have signed up for.

I didn’t really know, even if they kinda explained for about a half hour. But mostly counseling and surveys, or questionnaires, or interviews, maybe. He said since he’d be doing counseling himself, sometimes, maybe he’d be my counselor!

He did it in high school, peer counseling he called it, and he was already registered for training for it here. He said it was a real help, sometimes, and he felt really great when someone said they were helped by talking with him. Even about really small things, like schedules or homework overload, that he said was about the biggest problem, in high school, anyways.

But when I showed him the card I had about the counseling I was supposed to go to he thought it probably wasn’t peer-type stuff.

That kinda led to us telling each other more about our families and high schools and the stuff we did before, (me: not much. him: tons).

After just three days I guess we were friends, ‘cause it was sure nice to just lay on our beds and laugh and remember. And he had a wicked sense of humor.

We both said how strange it was being in university, too. Away from home and in rez, and how different it was from high school. And home.

He said they had a really great reputation here for teaching, for training teachers, ‘cause he wanted to be one, ever since he was in grade school. He grinned and said his heroes were teachers he’d had.

I smiled and said “Geek...” and he laughed.

He lived in a small town about three hours away, really near State U, but he said we were at a way better school. ‘Specially for teaching.

I told him about how I was going to go to State until last month and then my parents changed their minds and said that they wanted me to come here instead. He kinda already knew that, from Jan and all them.

Mom and Dad said that lots of their friends had told them that it was a way better place, and I’d been accepted too, ’cause I applied to about five schools, and I even had a little scholarship if I came here. Free rez, anyway.

But I didn’t really know anyone, ‘cept him. I really missed Carol and Barry and my family. I still missed my cat, but more, now. I didn’t tell Dennis that.

But he seemed to notice stuff like that, that there was stuff I didn’t want to show.

He was really quiet for a few minutes and just looked at the ceiling. Then he asked if I was homesick.

I didn’t say anything, except try to breathe normally, but he was still quiet and I guess waiting, and then he said, “I miss my mom...”

I stared at the ceiling, and missed Mom too. So it hurt.

-

He’s a total jock and was gonna try out for lots of sports, but he’s gonna be a really, really great teacher too.

-

After Dennis came back from brushing his teeth and stuff he opened a new package of pajamas and asked if I wanted the top ‘cause he only ever wore the bottoms and it was brand new? He laughed and said his mom was still always doing stuff like getting him new pajamas and underwear “for special occasions.”

It was way too big, even for him, and was like a tent on me, but he smiled like he wasn’t going to laugh, even though it was pretty funny, I bet. But it was nice, too. Like a night shirt, even. I almost couldn’t put it on after I thought that. But he didn’t laugh.

Anyway, he made sure his alarm was set earlier than it needed to be for his first class so he could get up and have breakfast with me. (I was dumb and signed two eight o’clock labs, Tuesday and Thursdays.)

Then, after the lights were out, he spoke really quietly, in the dark.

“Night, Bobby.” He sounded like he was still lonely for his mom. Or again.

“G’night, Dennis.” I tried to make it like it was better.

~*

End of Part One