Chapter 10: Structural Integrity (Part I)

Roger Powers stared at his notes until the words began to blur together like one giant graphite stain. Wednesdays put him in a mood because he had five straight hours of classes, with no breaks. That afternoon, if Roger had been asked what the most boring day of his life had been, he would have answered instantly, and positively: “Today.”

Little did he know that in less than four hours all that would change, and instead of remembering it as the worst, most boring day ever—he would recall that was the day the girl wearing goggles fell through his dormitory ceiling.

“You gonna stare at that until you drool on the page?” asked Howie, his on-again off-again study partner for Environmental Sciences. He knew where all the parties were and constantly complained about how few girls there were on their dorm floor. “I think we should compare notes. I may have missed some of what Prof Cork said today.”

Roger closed his book. “Tomorrow, hey. I have about three midterms tomorrow.”

“Cold, man,” Howie said. Of course, he had two of the same midterms. “Not like you can’t just skip and forget about it. You are totally going to ace the test in Biology. I swear, you have a bigger brain than I do. You should get out and meet some of the honeys with me. Tonight we can get some.”

“I think I should study.”

Howie shuffled out the door right behind Roger and together they filtered into the passing crowd. His backpack felt heavy on his shoulder and he didn’t really feel like putting up with this nagging and pestering—as much as Howie jawed on about girls, Roger doubted he ever actually met any. For all his bluster and cavorting, the guy was an equally good student. Roger envied how he could get as good or better grades all the while running the lark every night and getting smashed all weekend.

It was…impossible.

Roger punched at the elevator button while Howie continued on about all of the women he intended to chat up over the weekend.

“Did you see some of those chicks on the fencing team? They’re all fit and trim, all lines and curves in their tight outfits. There’s even one girl with green hair.”

Bing! went the elevator.

“Fencing outfits are not tight,” Roger said with a sigh. “You must be thinking of the swim team or something.”

“No, no,” he went on, slipping into the elevator before even the last crush of students had exited. Several sharp glances followed him; Roger shrugged apologetically as if he could take responsibility. “This was fencing. You know. Pokey bits. Oh, wouldn’t I like to poke one of—”

“I get the point.”

“Ha! Point!”

Roger closed his eyes, let out a breath, and stabbed at the button for the first floor.

“Lighten up, man!” Howie said, jostling his arm with a friendly jocularity. The motion caused him to rattle against the wall, and he was sure the girl behind him had to take a step back to avoid being hit with his backpack. “Look. I’ll leave you alone. Tonight. But, after you get these tests done, you come out with me to celebrate. Can we make a deal on that?”

The elevator started to move causing the lights to flicker momentarily. They always did that—a whrr followed by a sudden jolt as the elevator went down. The first time he thought that it would fall out from underneath him, but no such luck today. He just wanted to go home. Get into bed. Sleep for a while. Except he couldn’t do that either. Biology and Chemistry tests and another one for Baroque Art History. That class he wasn’t looking forward to. Having to memorize images of artwork. Who made it? When was it made? Media, paints, subject matter? Hopefully there would be an essay question. Please let there be an essay question.

The floors went by swiftly and the doors wooshed open spilling the students, Roger, and Howie onto the poorly lit antechamber at the front of the building. Roger set off with the crowd like a pack of mice seeing the end of the maze, his gait was swift, not as swift as Howie, but quicker than the rest of the pack. And bam he went through the door—into the clear, dry air.

“Come on,” Howie said. “You’ve got to get out sometime. When is the last time you did anything fun? I know.” He shifted his backpack to his other shoulder and juggled his textbook. “We’re study partners. You’re too stiff. I can help you out. I leave you alone tonight and tomorrow we celebrate after class.”

He held his hand out.

Roger looked at it.

They’d both stopped. Dead in the middle of the lane. Other students swept around them unseeing, and Roger thought about it for a moment. Damnit. Howie got it right. He was annoying, loud, pestering, too personal—but Roger hadn’t gotten a single day’s respite since he’d moved into his dorm. Sure, he didn’t have a roommate, but he didn’t socialize outside of class any. Except for the study sessions that the Freshman Year Experience team helped him set up for his classes, but that was basically class all over again. Model student. And here he was, the most boring day of his entire life and it was because of his classes. They were eating him alive.

Tomorrow, though, tomorrow would be another day and it had three tests. Three big tests for him.

Wasn’t life better with rewards?

“Sure. Yes. Fine,” he said. He let the words slip out of his mouth before he could stop them—decide against them. He shook his head and let them roll out, it felt good. Relieving, like he was agreeing to something natural. Proper. Something that he could look forward to.

Howie grabbed his hand and smiled. “Tomorrow. Right after Chem. You. Me. And a vodka…or a beer…” He pointed at him. “You look like a beer person. We probably should start weak.” A hand patted him heavily on the shoulder. “See you tomorrow, man. Good luck studying.”

“Thanks,” Roger said to Howie’s back.

And then he turned away, trying hard not to have second thoughts.