I woke up the following day, stuffed back inside my dorm room with Mason asleep on the other side. As per usual his desk was cluttered with a landfill of energy drinks and food wrappers. I rolled my eyes and threw the blankets aside, hopping on to the floor and wandering to the bathroom to brush my teeth. On the way there I caught a glimpse of my bedside clock; it read 2:25 PM. Wow. I was being a really productive college student, wasn’t I? Thank God it was Saturday.

I brushed my teeth and threw on some clothes, just a blue t-shirt and a pair of shorts; I wasn’t looking to impress anyone, especially going over to Mike’s place. God was I really doing this? Was I actually going to go over to study with Mike? I mean that was the assignment but was it really safe? The last time I’d really had an encounter with him he’d practically tried to rape me at Wal-Mart even though he didn’t know it was me. The time before that, well, he’d nearly killed me. Yesterday though, yesterday he’d seemed perfectly nice; maybe he’d finally realized I wasn’t a threat to his girlfriend or any of his imaginary girlfriends over at the GAT house. Yeah, that could be it, right? Either way I had to get this done. I thought about calling Tiffany or Aleah, maybe telling them where I was going, but I couldn’t bother them with every little thing, right? Plus, I was a big…boy; I could make some decisions by myself. They didn’t have to be involved in EVERY decision I made, right?

Grabbing my phone and wallet, and backpack, I glanced around the room one last time to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything and rushed out onto the balcony. Mike’s dorm was three down from mine, which would have made me uncomfortable if he knew where I lived but as it stood I was pretty safe. A quick walk down the dorm stairs and a brisk jog down the sidewalk, then I was standing in front of Mike’s dorm. His was a little nicer than mine; they always saved the best for the jocks, didn’t they?

Reluctantly, I walked forward, down the concrete path and approached the glass double doors leading into the dorm. Directly inside I could see a display featuring Woodcrest’s mascot, the so-named Angry Beaver, front and center. On one side of the hallway I could see trophies in a glass case, mostly specific to the school I guess. On the right, a bulletin board accompanied by a thin LED screen flashing schoolwide events. The entire entryway felt incredibly clean; it was nothing like my dorm. Here was had a pristine white tile floor reflecting the well lights mounted inside the ceiling, over at my dorm, old gray carpet with flickering fluorescent lights. At least Woodcrest was spending money on the right things.

The next thing I noticed was the working elevator; they had one, my building didn’t. Holy shit did this ever end? I stepped to the wall and pressed the white call button, listening to the machinery behind the massive steel door begin to hum and work its magic. The doors flew open and out stepped a short brunette wearing a brief flared tunic top and a pair of skin-tight blue jeans. I ran my eyes up and down her body, from her tight-fitting top to her black wedges and felt a familiar pang within. God, I wished I could look like that. As I moved my eyes upward, mine locked with hers, she’d seen me staring. She shot me a look of utter disgust before she pushed past me and stormed out of the building, allowing the glass paneled door to slam behind her. I wanted to chase after her. I wanted to tell her that I wasn’t just a pervert, that I was like her, a girl, really truly a girl trapped inside this hulking mess of a male body. I was disgusting, and there was nothing I could do about it. I flashed back to that moment in my life I’d chosen to eat as little as possible; this was why. Exactly this. I couldn’t handle looking like a man. Defeated, I stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for Mike’s floor. Moments later I emerged from the elevator and stepped onto the third floor, taking a right and knocking on one of the doors. I waited about five seconds before deciding to turn tail and run, but the handle clicked, the door opened. Olivia stood before me with a rather mute expression on her face.

“Hey Todd,” She said. I immediately noticed she was wearing a very loose white knit sweater, long sleeved. Interesting choice for this weather, and indoors. I looked at her inquisitively, she shot a glare back. “Come on in, I made some wings.”

“Great,” I replied. I got the feeling she wanted me to push past her, but I waited until she led me into the dorm. This one was bigger than mine, it looked like the damn thing actually had bedrooms, and a common area. This was practically an apartment.

“Hey, whattup Todd!” Mike shouted out as he walked toward me, reaching out his hand. I took it, and executed a sort of handshake. I didn’t want to be here, this place was…ugh it was too masculine for me. I hated this. I could see a couch, and in front of it a TV blasting a football game, maybe professional, maybe college. I had no idea. Mike was still wearing that red letter jacket like a security blanket. “So what are we doing where do we get started? You’re the man with the plan here, right?”

Mike waved me over to the couch, I took a seat at the far end, as far away from him as possible. Reaching into my backpack I produced my copy of ‘The Odyssey’, it was a thick paperback version, probably with a few too many pages for Mike to actually read.

“Well,” I said quickly, probably sounded incredibly winded for someone who had just sat down. “Our professor wanted us to examine The Odyssey for examples of how the heroes in our popular fiction aren’t really…heroes. You know, we look up to them, and to us they’re heroes, but they have their own baggage, you see what I’m saying?”

“Why is your hair that long?” Mike asked me as he reached toward the table and picked up what looked like a glass pipe, probably for pot. “Are you some kind of fag? Hey Olivia! Where are those fucking wings?!”

“They’re almost done!” She called back from the kitchen.

“Well hurry the fuck up!” He snapped. “There are hungry men out here!”

Hungry men. Right. I didn’t even want to see a chicken wing.

“Um, anyway,” I restarted. “The point I want to look at is when the Achaeans sailed to the home of Aeolus, he’s the ruler of the winds, you see, and Odysseus had been lost on the sea for years at this point-“

“YEARS?” Mike interrupted, laughing. “How stupid can a person be? Just like, turn the boat around and go home!”

“Well I mean, it’s not that simple,” I explained. “They didn’t have GPS or incredibly accurate maps. The ocean is a big place, and when you have the Goo of the Sea up your ass the whole time, it’s really hard to get anywhere. So anyway, Aeolus gives them a bag of wind that should get them home, and it does, within like ten days they can see Ithaca but this is where Odysseus made his mistake: he didn’t communicate. For being a hero, Odysseus is dense and he didn’t trust his men at ALL. He wouldn’t tell them what was in the bag, so they thought it was gold.”

“Oh hell yeah, I would’ve taken that bag right off of him!” Mike pumped his fist in the air as Olivia set a huge bowl of chicken wings down on the coffee table in front of us. “Babe get us some beers, no, fuck that, get the good stuff!”

I didn’t want beer, and I certainly didn’t want the good stuff, but before I knew it, Olivia had handed Mike a brown flask and a pair of plastic cups, clearly meant to imitate glass. The neck of the bottle made a ‘thud’ as he pressed it against the plastic rim and poured.

“Have a drink,” He said, thrusting the glass toward me.

“You know, I don’t really-“ I started to say.

“What are you, some kind of pussy?” He demanded. “Take a drink, come on.”

I took the cup timidly, pressing my lip together and gulping as I stared at the flat brown drink swishing around in a cup that was miles below the station of what it contained. Holding it to my lips, I tilted the vessel backward and closed my eyes, dreading the moment that it would actually touch my tongue. Finally, it did. The taste wasn’t horrible, I mean, it didn’t tasted great, but it wasn’t the end of the world. The real hell came as the liquid washed down my throat and slammed into the pit of my stomach. My esophagus burned, I choked. Doubling over, I slammed the cup down onto the coffee table and pounded my fist against my chest as my throat was stripped with each oncoming cough.

“Don’t tell me that’s the first time you’ve had whiskey,” Mike shook his head. “God, you’re such a girl. Here, try this.”

I looked up, he was offering me the glass pipe.

“What is that?” I asked between coughs.

“It’s pot, dude,” He laughed. “What kind of college student are you?”

A lame one apparently.

“Here,” He said, “Just take the lighter, like this, hold it up to the bowl and inhale. Easy peasy.”

“Mike,” I said, still barely recovered from the whiskey. “We should really just concentrate on the book, seriously, I don’t—”

“Look,” He said. “You come into my house, you’re going to enjoy my hospitality, now take a puff, come on.”

I didn’t know what to do. Could I just walk out? Would he let me do that? Would I let met do that? Dammit, I just needed to take a puff. I took the lighter from him and held the bowl to my lips, trying not to think about what kind of germs were being transmitted to me right now. Flicking the lighter, I allowed the flames to hit the bowl and inhaled steeply. Two things happened, first I choked on the smoke, that was coming either way. Secondly, the flame from the lighter burned my thumb, I yelped and dropped it onto the floor in front of me; Mike laughed. I didn’t think it was funny at all.

“Okay, try this shit,” He laughed, reaching to the far side of the cluttered coffee table and handing me what looked like a rice crispy treat wrapped in cellophane. “You can’t smoke, you can’t drink, you might as well try this shit, then we can really get started on the book thing.”

“You know what, fine,” I said, really annoyed at this point. My throat was burning, my lungs were on fire, and my eyes were starting to sting. How bad could it be, eating a rice crispy treat? I shrugged and snatched it out of his hand, tearing the wrapper and popping it into my mouth. His eyes went wide as I chewed it.

“Jesus, Todd,” He said. “You’re supposed to eat that like, a little bit at a time, you’ve got some balls on you after all.”

“Okay, getting back to the book,” I said, reaching into my backpack and pulling out a notepad. “The point is that if Odysseus had told his men that the wind was in the bag, then they wouldn’t have opened it, and they would have gotten home.”

“But why should he tell them? Why is it their business?” Mike asked. Surely he wasn’t serious.”

“Okay,” I said. “Look, the point is that Odysseus didn’t tell them, and they all died. As a result. Of it. I mean, like think of it this way. Odysseus was given an opportunity, by a god, of the wind, and he didn’t like, take advantage of the opportunities that the universe was giving him to better himself, and to work his way into better career options.”

Better career options? What the actual hell was I saying?

“So you’re saying he should have just been a pussy and told them. Maybe he should have kicked their asses when they tried to take it from him.”

“He was asleep,” I explained. “When you’re asleep, like, there are just some things you can’t grasp, like a bag of wind is like…a car when you’re asleep, if you sleep with it, someone’s just going to grab it, and drive off with it, and you’re just going to be stuck there with your soccer ball.”

“Are you okay over there?” Mike cocked his head a bit mockingly. “You’re not making any sense.”

“You know…what?” I said, pushing myself away from the couch as my legs collided with the coffee table. I felt the whiskey spill, running off the table and down my leg as I stumbled away from the couch and past Olivia. “I think…I think I should go get some sleep, I feel—”

“Yeah alright,” Mike said. “I don’t understand any of this crap anyway, maybe you should just do the paper.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “I should write the paper and…yeah.”

I made my way toward the door, phone in hand but leaving my backpack and the copy of the Odyssey behind. The only thing I remembered was stumbling into the hallway, and after that, nothing.