Young Writers Society

Some days, the smiles of young adults and the laughter of people enjoying one another's company made Lordy sure that there was some weight to the idea that being here wasn't so bad. In fact, he relished in the idea that the connections we shared with one another were the foundation for our purpose here on this planet, and normally, that is what kept him going.

Today was not one of those days.

He tapped his cane behind the overly ambitious student, who happened to be the only girl at the table.

"It's Professor Lordshire to you kids," he scruched his eyebrows and looked around the table, "And I'll have you know that if any of you have a problem with me OR my class, I'm not a professor after eight o'c-"

"Okay Lordy time to go!" Morrigan, who was standing nearby, began to shoo Lordy away, "We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow. Enjoy your dinner kids!"

Daniel was going to make a comment on the pluses of philosophy, but then the professor in question strolled right by and made a quick dig at Jerica.

(Hilariously enough, Daniel noted, Morri completely ruined the reprimand by calling him by the nickname literally everyone else called Lordy on campus at this point.)

There was a moment of silence right after the professor's intrusion. Daniel took it in stride.

"I don't know," Daniel mused, downing a fry in a single, big gulp.

Daniel grabbed another fry and stabbed his ketchup cup with it. After another moment passed, he took a casual bite out of it and rested his elbow on the table. "Philosophy's an interesting class. You just need the right professor and the right existential questions. Like this one - do villains see themselves as heroes, or do they know they're flawed?"

Benji pushed his plate to the side.

"I think they see themselves as heroes," he softly said.

Daniel coated his latest french fry in ketchup and waved it at Benji's face. "I don't know. I feel like if I would be aware of my flaws if I was a villain."

He shrugged and downed his fry.

"Either way," he said, wiping the ketchup off of his mouth with his sleeve, "it does make you wonder about what being human really is all about."

Jerica looked up as she heard an impatient tapping behind her and felt the soul leave her body as she realized who it was. Her face flushed bright red with embarrassment. She'd done it again. Running her mouth. Digging that hole deeper.

There was no recovery from this.

"Guess we know who's getting the lowest grade this semester," Jerica muttered to Bo with a cringe.

She listened silently as Daniel started rambling, suddenly more interested in his loud opinions than her own embarrassment.

"How do you know you're not?" she challenged. "The villain, that is. 'Everyone is the hero of their own story' - Moriarty. Maybe you ARE the villain but don't realize it because you can't see your own flaws."

Seemingly sensing a challenge, Daniel leaned forward in his chair. He had that glint to his eyes again, Benji noticed - a hungry kind of glint, like a predator eying and sizing up its prey.

"I don't know," Daniel said. He rested his chin in his free hand. "I might be. I haven't done anything especially villainous, though I'm sure I'm flawed. My sleep schedule is a mess, and you should see the state of my rooms right now. Neither are all that pretty."

He smirked.

"...Unless you've noticed some other flaw," he suggested.

Benji slunk into his seat. He did not like where this was going. Eying the plate in front of him, he suddenly came to the realization that he was pretty much done with his meal - not that he had much of an appetite to begin with.

He abruptly stood up.

Daniel, who had been staring down Jerica, turned at the sound of him moving.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

Benji gave a noncommittal, tiny shrug before rushing off to the trash cans. He ignored the sound of Daniel standing up - and then sitting back down when he realized that Benji had already gone. He also ignored the looks from the people he slipped past. It wasn't until he was standing outside the dining hall that he finally let himself stop and take a deep breath.

This was going to be a very long semester.

Jerica watched in silence as Benji and Daniel had some sort of moment, waiting until Daniel sat back down.

"I mean, I don't know..." Jerica picked up the last of her chicken tenders. "The way you eat fries is pretty heinous."

While the others kept talking, James was speeding through his meal. Unlike Daniel, James had a sleep schedule to keep, and he wanted to get home before Carter stumbled in and tried chatting. He finished up quickly, and with a now clear plate, stood up and took his tray off the table.

"Napkins might be a good investment," he said to Daniel. "If you're looking to avoid staining your sleeves."

Then he looked to the rest of them at the table.

"Always good seeing you two again," he said to Bo and Elias. "And it was nice meeting you three. I suppose I'll see most of you in class tomorrow."

With that, he bowed his head, weaved back through the crowd, disposed of his tray and dirty dishes, and headed home.

Jerica glanced around the cafeteria and realized that many of the students had already shuffled out. What time is it? She clicked her phone on to check the time, then jumped upright. "I'm late! Bye!"

She quickly dumped her tray into the trash and then hurried back to the stadium. The coach had been gruff, of course, when she had her meeting with him -- but it ended with her signing her contract, and that's all that mattered. He'd sent her to the locker room so that her teammates could show her the ropes. She admired the new hat the coach had given her -- exclusive to the football team -- as she walked.

"Ainsley, right?"

She looked up and saw the quarterback, J.R., standing just in front of her. She smiled and nodded.

"The new halfback?"

"Yeah."

"Great." He offered a disarming smile then reached towards her. "I'll take your things. The humidity gets kind of bad back there so we always leave our phones up here."

She reluctantly handed the hat and her phone over.

As soon as they were free from her hands, a pillowcase jammed down over her head. She swung her fist wildly over her shoulder, catching someone on the face.

"Ack! Grab her!"

Arms wrapped around her upper arms, holding her in place, and other hands darted forward to start tying her ankles and wrists.

"LET ME GO!" she bellowed.

Terror flooded through her. She hadn't expected this. Grumpy faces she could handle -- but this? Where were they taking her? Why? She was going to end up dead in a ditch somewhere. And she'd been stupid enough to hand her phone over.

"STOP IT!"

It was no use. They were muttering to one another and soon had her bound tightly.

"Let me go!"

"You keep screeching and you're gonna get a gag." The boy on her right shook her.

Then he and another boy on her other side picked her up and carried her. To where she didn't know. She tried fighting at first, but then realized it was pointless. From their meaty hands, she figured they were probably the linebackers. She wasn't going to get away from them while she was bound.

They snickered to one another as they walked. The light that'd been present vanished. She felt cool air hit her face as they hauled her outside. A minute later she'd been wrestled into a car.

Someone grunted as she landed on top of them. She tried to elbow herself up to a sitting position. "Where am I?"

"Yeah!" the person she'd landed on top of echoed. "Where am I?"

"No talking, recruits!" A boy from the front-seat shouted, then instantly cranked the music to full blast.

She couldn't hear anything else -- not even her own thoughts. It was a song with a heavy-bass and loud vocals, and the car had been modified to have speakers all around her. The music split through her skull.

The car sped forward -- then slammed on the breaks, sending her flying into the seat in front of her. They sped forward again as she tried to gather herself up off the floor.

Again. And again. And again.

Slamming into the seat in front of her -- stop and go -- swerving back and forth -- music drowning out every other sense but the nerves that were getting slammed into the back of the seat.

An eternity the car stopped completely, and cold air hit her as the doors were yanked open. She felt hands hauling her out of the car, but was too disoriented to do anything about it. The bag was yanked off her head and she got tossed into... water?

She spluttered, struggling until she had her feet under her. She blinked stupidly, trying to make sense of the world. There was a huge bonfire maybe ten yards away from them with boys she recognized from the team wandering around it. Other new recruits were being dumped into the pool around her.

Hazing.

Strangely enough, the realization was somewhat comforting. At least whatever was about to happen to her was going to happen to all the new recruits. She wasn't about to be murdered. Hopefully.

"Welcome to the team, NOOBS!" a boy shouted as other recruits were being dragged out of cars and tossed into the pool. "First task -- UNTIE YOURSELVES!"

A jet of water hit Jerica out of nowhere. She coughed, dipping under the water as she stumbled to the side. When she resurfaced, she realized they had a half dozen water hoses with jetstreams of water that they were shooting into the faces of the recruits. Other boys had pitchers or buckets and were dumping water on their faces.

By the time Jerica had managed to untie herself, the whole team had shown up. She scrambled over the edge of the pool, just in time for one of the linebackers to grab her and haul her towards the bonfire. He gave her a push towards the center of the ring.

She panted, trying to process everything that had happened. She was soaked. And freezing. And winded. And exhausted. They could have chosen a night for this that wasn't immediately after a grueling tryout.

"Next up!" J.R. shouted. "What I like to call Strip Shotguns. Line up!"

Jerica was jostled into line along with the other recruits who had made it out of the pool at that point -- others were still struggling with the ropes. The first two boys in front of her were pushed towards J.R., and each of them had a beer shoved into their hands.

"Anddddd GOOOOO!"

The recruits shotgunned their beer -- one finishing a solid five seconds before the other.

"Loser strips!" J.R. shouted, giving that boy a shove. "Gimme your shirt Probie!"

The recruit obediently shucked his shirt off and handed it over. J.R. bunched the shirt up and then threw it into the fire. Jerica's gut sank. This was bad. She had to win this game, or she was going to have a very long, embarrassing, hard-to-explain walk back to Rek's apartment.

"Winner." J.R. grabbed the clothed recruit's shoulders and pulled him back squarely to the center of the clearing. "Goes against the next man." He looked towards Jerica. "You're up, girly."

Jerica staggered forward, grabbing the warm beer that was held out to her. Because of course it had to be warm. She stopped in front of the first boy and took the knife held out to her to make the hole, then grabbed the can. She chugged as fast as she could, throwing her hands up when she finished to prove she'd won.

The boy she'd gone up against shed his shirt and was shuffled to the back of the line while it burned. Another boy was pushed towards her and they were both handed a fresh, warm beer. Her stomach felt sick. You gotta win this.

She cracked the beer and chugged it too.

Her head felt light as that boy tossed his shirt into the fire and was shuffled to the back of the line. She staggered to the side. She'd done two in a row. That was enough--

"Where do you think you're going?" Someone shoved a fresh beer into her hands and gave her a shove back into the center of the ring. "You go until you burn."

Jerica coughed but made the hole in the can and then chugged as fast as she could. She'd never felt so bad in her life. She heaved.

"Aw, come on, you got the record of the night!" They goaded, shoving her fourth beer into her hands. "Gotta keep that record going, girly!"

She turned towards the fire and vomited next to it.

The instant she was done they pushed her towards her competitor.

"TIME TO GO!!!"

"I can't..."

"WE DON'T KNOW WHAT 'CAN'T' MEANS!" Someone gave her a rough shove. "You drink or you strip!"

She opened the fourth can and tried to swallow, but she just started vomiting instead.
It hissed onto the already-slippery ground as she hit her knees and puked the contents of her stomach on top of the pile she'd already been creating.

"Gonna enjoy this part." J.R. was smirking as he held his hand out to her. "Shirt."

Jerica sighed but pulled her shirt off and watched as he pitched it in the fire. The boys all gawked as she shuffled to the back of the line. It's not like they didn't see this earlier. Still, she hoped that this was all that they were going to see.

She focused on calming her breathing and trying to get her thoughts in order while she waited for the line to circulate. She was already feeling buzzy, a humming filling her mind. It'd be nice if she wasn't certain that this wasn't going to be the end of the night.

Jerica managed to shotgun three more the next time she was at the front of the line. She puked after every single one of them but still got them swallowed. She grumpily slipped out of her pants and tossed them into the fire herself, shuffling to the back of the line.

The next time she got to the front of the line she only made it through two more beers, but all of the other boys were also down to their underwear, and the team decided it was time to switch rounds.

She couldn't see straight. Her vision was swimming, and she felt herself staggering as she was jostled to the front of where the team was gathering on the opposite side of the bonfire.

"Girl kicked all of your a**** on that one!" one of the teammates mocked, the others already on the team laughing scornfully.

None of the recruits were laughing. She doubted they felt any better than she did, even if they had drank less than she did. Her stomach hurt unbelievably badly and she kept blinking as if that would clear her vision, but it just made the world tilt under her feet.

"Next up..." the boy gestured dramatically behind him. Jerica looked up and saw that there was a muddy strip that was maybe a hundred yards long by twenty yards wide. There was mud, and puddles of water, and hundreds -- maybe thousands -- of tiny little clumps strewn across it.

"THIS!" The boy held up a little yellow rubber ducky. "Is J.R.'s duckie. Those--"

Someone shone a hand-held spotlight on the nearest mud and she saw that all the clumps were pink and blue and green duckies.

"Are NOT!" The boy continued. "J.R. wants HIS ducky. Wave to them, J.R.!"

Jerica looked up and saw J.R. standing at the far end of the pit. Her brain tried to process what was being said. She was going to have to take him a duckie. But not just any duckie... his? ducky? it was the... that color one.

"First person to get the ducky to J.R. wins this round!" The boy strode towards Jerica and shoved the ducky into her arms. "Starts with the winner from last round! Get it!"

Jerica looked down at the duck in her hands, then back at the other recruits, and then her eyes went wide. "Shi--!"

She turned and sprinted towards the mud pit as the other recruits rushed towards her. She only made it a few steps in before she slipped. A boy crashed into her from behind, slamming them both into the ground. She squirmed from his grasp and started forward on her hands and knees before a second boy landed on top of her. He grabbed at her hands. She twisted and punched him in the face, kicking him away as she kept going down the path towards J.R.

Several more attempts ended up the same way -- her hitting, and getting hit -- and then continuing on. At last, they managed to pry the ducky from her hands. And then they were all screwed. They pawed around on their hands and knees scrutinizing the hundreds of ducks around them, desperately trying to find the singular yellow one that'd been lost. But, soon, she forgot what color she was even looking for altogether.

Jerica was miserable. She thought she couldn't get any colder, but the mud was now clinging to every surface of her body and chilling her to the bone. She was fighting off other drunk recruits. Searching for a stupid duck. While feeling absolutely terrible.

This night was going to last forever.

Even though James had contacts, that didn’t solve his hearing, and he still found himself squinting sometimes anyway. So out of habit, and out of necessity, he filed into Professor Lordshire’s class ten minutes early and sat down at the end of the front row, and started getting situated. A few students lingered in the hall, and only a couple started trickling in - most of them talking to one another. James only glanced about, taking in his surroundings and noting where things were. The steps, the aisles between seats and desks. The exits.

He didn’t know why he always felt a little antsy in the front row, with everyone behind him, but he always figured it was just nerves. Nothing he couldn’t push through for the sake of actually being able to hear the content of the class he was paying for.

He started pulling out his laptop for notes along with a notepad and paper just in case.

Lordy always relished the few minutes before class started when he could simply be at peace with himself. No talking, no disturbances, just him and his breathing excerc- oh what the hell kids were coming in already.

Lordy looked down at his watch. Ten minutes early, really? He wondered if maybe this was a sign that he wouldn't just have a bunch of children with slabs of raw chicken for barinsthis semester.

He recognized the kid, he was at the lunch table with the big-mouthed girl. He, however, didn't seem as interested in conversation. He pulled out his laptop and quickly hid behind it. It seemed as if he was used to disappearing.

Lordy tapped on his desk, Well, only a few more minutes until showtime.

Benji had left the dorm room early with the intention of both avoiding Daniel and getting to class with plenty of time to spare. He had always arrived early for his classes at WVU, but he was convinced he needed even more time now that he was on an unfamiliar campus.

But when he arrived at Dr. Lordshire's class just a little under ten minutes early, Benji started to reconsider that plan. The room was eerily empty. There were a few students outside of the room, but only the professor and James from the night before were in the actual room.

Benji glanced for a good place to sit outside of the classroom.

...There wasn't any.

Taking a deep breath - and hoping that he wasn't too early - he slipped inside the room. It seemed so big and intimidating right now. He wasn't even sure if James wanted to sit by himself, but James was in exactly the same spot he would have picked if he had been there first.

He awkwardly entered the row and sat down next to him.

After a moment passed, he grabbed his laptop out from his bag and pulled up the article he had started writing after dinner last night. The deadline wasn't for another week, but Benji liked having his things done ahead of time-

The door opened again.

Benji froze. He had the worst feeling that the newcomer would be none other than...

He looked back as the third student in the room headed towards the seats many rows behind them. For some reason, he wasn't all that surprised when he saw it was Daniel. They made eye contact for a moment. Daniel gave him a grin and a wave, but oddly didn't come to join him like Benji expected.

He sat down dead center in the very back row. He didn't even have a backpack on him; the only thing he seemed to be carrying was a single folder and pencil. Benji didn't know how he did it.

He also didn't know why he cared what Daniel did so much.

He looked back at his laptop screen.

James looked over at Benji with a slow turn of his head.

Either Benji didn't understand social cues, intentionally ignored them, or he was just very nervous and drawn to the only familiar face in the room, which happened to be his. James had a feeling it was the latter, but, really? Benji couldn't have sat even one spot away? There was a whole row.

Internally, he sighed.

He glanced at Benji's screen, seeing the article, before he looked back at his own laptop, pulling up his notes - a new, empty page for the class.

"Good morning, Benji," he said quietly.

Jerica groaned. Her entire body felt broken. She cracked an eye open and saw... grass? She took a deep breath and smelled dirt. Her hand was on something hard. She pulled it closer to her face and saw that she was grasping a bottle of Captain Morgan's. That explained a lot. Especially the headache.

She groaned again and tiredly pushed herself up to a sitting position. Where's my shirt? Her body was coated in slimy mud from the dew settling on her during the night. Where're my pants?

She rubbed her face, confused. Where am I?

The mud on her was streaked, as if she'd tried to wash it off and utterly failed.

What time is it? It felt early. There was still a chill in the air and while it was daylight, she couldn't really see the sun, yet. Class.

She pushed herself to her feet and looked around at the carnage around her, memories slowly coming back bit by bit. The pool she'd been dunked in was popped now and sat deflated with mud on top. She must not have been the only one trying to rinse off. That -- or she'd been the one who'd broken it. She didn't care.

The mud pit was off to the left, the smoldering remains of the bonfire nearer her. She turned and saw a house behind her, closer to the road. Various other new recruits were also sprawled on the ground.

She remembered the hell that was Strip Shotgun -- and vaguely remembered lots of fists and... duckies? in the mud pit -- but beyond that was mostly a blur. There was a vague snippet of a memory that involved her on her knees chugging as much rum as she could.

Jerica stumbled towards the house, up the few steps onto the porch, and in through a sliding glass door. One of the teammates was passed out in the hall. She stepped over him and found several more passed out in the kitchen floor, on the couch, under the coffee table. She made her way to the bathroom and found another recruit passed out in the bathtub.

She looked in the mirror and sighed deeply. She was a disaster. Her hair was a wreck and covered in mud and probably vomit she wasn't really sure. Her face and chest and shoulders and abdomen were coated with mud. Her legs were too. She had a decent bruise on her cheek -- probably from the mud pit, she guessed -- and other various sized bruises on her shoulders and arms and abdomen and legs. I look like a washed-up sea hag.

Jerica grabbed the hand-towel off the floor and ran it under the water and wiped the worse of the mud off her. She rubbed her hair as best as she could to get the visible muck off it, then ran her fingers through it in a clumsy attempt to work the worst of the tangles out.

She threw the now-muddy towel down and strode out of the bathroom, further down the hall towards a bedroom. She wasn't sure whose house this was. It reeked of college boy, but that was, well, all of them. She pushed the door open and saw that the bedroom was actually empty.

There was a pair of sweatpants crumpled on the ground. She picked them up and looked them over to make sure they weren't too gross, then slipped them on and pulled the strings tight and knotted them so they'd stay in place even though they were too big for her. She looked down and saw they had the characteristic High Point Football letters stamped on the left leg.

She slid on the nearest tank top she saw and tucked it into the pants then walked back down the hall towards the kitchen. She rubbed her face. Her head hurt so badly. And her mouth was drier than it'd ever been. She'd never drunk that much in her life -- and she was never going to drink that much again.

Jerica sighed in relief when she saw a pile of cellphones dumped in the center of the dining table. She sorted through them until she found hers and cringed at the number of notifications.

[93 missed calls]

She cringed and unlocked her phone.

They were all from Rek. Because of course, they were.

He'd sent her 64 texts as well, ranging from "where r u?" to "call me" to "r u ok?" to "i need u to let me know ur okay"

"im ok, sorry"

She took a step towards the kitchen and her phone instantly started ringing. Well, vibrating. Only monsters kept the sound on their phone. She rejected the call.

"can't talk now... im ok, i promise"

"where are you?!"

"long story, ill see you in class. sorry again. im ok

She pulled the fridge open and saw that the bottom row was completely packed with cans of various cheap beers. The top shelf was well-stocked with Gatorade and Pedialyte. And, nothing else. In the entire fridge. Definitely a college boy.

She noticed a huge bottle of Advil on the counter and poured some onto hand and then washed them down with the Gatorade. There was a hat laying on the ground next to the stove. She picked it up and slid it on, bill towards the back of her head. At least it would be something to make the state of her hair a bit less obvious.

"omfg Jerica u scared me so bad u cant do this"

"i know, im sorry"

She wandered towards the front of the house, realizing that she still didn't know where she was. She pulled up Maps and cringed when she saw how far away from campus she was. She cringed again when she noticed the time.

She didn't particularly like having to call a Lyft -- they were WAY too expensive -- but she'd already made a bad enough impression with Lordy. She didn't want to be late to the first day of his class.

Jerica let herself through the front door and strode down the driveway to wait impatiently for her driver, guzzling as much of the Gatorade as she could. She stared blankly out the window of the car and rushed through the halls in a haze.

Rek was waiting for her at the door to the lecture hall.

"Where have you--?" His eyes went wide and he rushed towards her. "WHAT HAPPENED?"

"I went to a party."

"Why do you have bruises?"

"... Good party?"

"Jerica--"

They were almost to the door so she cut him off. "Look, you probably don't want to walk in with me. The prof doesn't like me."

"How could he not like you?" he snorted. "It's the first day of class. He hasn't even met you."

"Okay, it wasn't my fault--"

Rek sighed. "Okay, definitely your fault, got it. What'd you do?"

"I didn't know that profs eat in your cafeteria here. That's weird."

"Oh my god, Jerica."

"Anyway, I suggest you pretend not to know me."

She turned and cut into the classroom before Rek could answer. She stopped short when she realized she had to walk right past Lordy's desk to get to a seat, flushing a bit as she remembered the day before. She ducked her head and ran up the steps to the very back row.

Fry-boy was sitting in the center, looking nearly as unprepared as she was. She stepped past him to get closer to the corner then plopped down a few seats away, giving him a nod. "Sup?"

Benji looked up, startled. He hadn't expected James to say hello. He also hadn't expected James to look at what he was writing. Even though he wrote for a public newspaper - if The Skeptic could be called that - he still wasn't used to other people reading what he wrote.

He quickly closed his laptop.

"Good morning," he quietly and awkwardly replied.


Daniel scrunched his nose up as Jerica sat down next to him.

She smelled horrible. There must have been some party last night that he was blissfully unaware of until now: the stench of alcohol was coming off of her in bucketfuls. Worse, she also smelled like unwashed, sweaty clothes.

(There was a bit of an earthy smell, too, but Daniel didn't mind it nearly as much.)

He took a closer look at her.

"What happened to you?" he asked. Was that a bruise on her cheek? It looked like one. Whatever party she had been at must have gotten-

He peeked underneath the hat again, potential understanding dawning on him. She hadn't mentioned joining any sports teams, but she literally reeked of what had to be a hazing and seemed to be into athletics. It just made sense.

"...What team hazed you?" he asked.

"You're a sophomore, right?" James asked, feeling obligated to start small talk, now that he'd initiated a conversation. It was this, or sit in awkward silence right next to each other. He might as well try to ease some of the tension and make Benji comfortable.

Jerica saw Daniel wrinkle his nose in disgust as she sat down. She frowned, but when she looked down she caught a whiff of herself. That's actually fair. She settled back in the seat and crossed her arms, as if she could trap the stench in with her hands.

"Hazed? Pff." Jerica scoffed. "No, I didn't get hazed."

Even she wasn't sure whether she believed that or not. They'd been intense, for sure -- but any team worth belonging to had initiation rituals. Besides, it's not like she'd actually gotten hurt. She was just... sore. But it was nothing that some Advil, heat pad, and Gatorade couldn't fix.

"It was just a party with some of my... friends." She met his gaze coolly, but was wondering if he'd notice the "Football" printed on the leg of her stolen stretch pants. "Got a little more intense than I'd expected is all."