It had been two weeks since the little get together at the Macaulay's apartment, and life was starting to feel like my life in California. It was bland, the color drained from its face. I had been meaning to talk to Julian about credit transfers because now that I think about it, I didn't want my entire college career to be flooded and surrounded with the knowledge of Greek. At the time, when I first came to Hampden, I wanted nothing more than to learn everything about the Greek studies. Now it just seems bland. Now don't get me wrong, Greek is tremendously better than daily trips to the morgue, the constant sight of of fetal pigs in jars, and the sickening smell of Formaldehyde in one room, for the zoology lab in my old biology class. Greek was much better.

As I made my way up to Julian's office I heard three low and hushed voices. As I made my around the corner, I stopped dead in my tracks. There in front of the Greek professor's door stood Henry, Angelina, and Julian. Henry's face was somber and guilt stricken. Angelina had a similar expression, except hers was more cold, and her dark brown eyes were just as cold and hard. And Julian's face showed a look of concern, eyebrows furrowed with understanding, and a crease or two on his forehead in as a reaction of stress.

"What should we do?" This was Henry. His voice was laced with concern. He sounded almost frightened.

"We should do what is necessary. Should we not?" Angelina spoke. Her voice sounded harsh and tense.

"My dears, you should always do what is necessary. When it comes to things like this." 'What the hell are they talking about?' I thought to myself. He held each of their hands delicately. Both Winter siblings seemed to have visibly ease at the touch. Shoulders at rest and their stares warmed.

Julian gave them each a kiss atop their heads, and in return each sibling gave him a kiss on the cheek. They both turned a heel and started to walk towards the staircase. Before I was caught for eavesdropping, I dashed down the flight of stairs. As I made my way back to my room I wondered what Angelina and Henry were talking about. That thought was stuck in my head after, undressing and putting in my pajamas.

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The next day felt like a blur. I got up, made my way towards Julian's room, to study Greece and it's alphabet for the next three hours, made my way to Mr. Gold's room to study France and their alphabet for an hour, then back to Julian's room to learn about the history of Greece for the last two hours of my Friday, I finally got to go back to my room. When I walked into the dorms, the inhabitants of the dorm were sitting together in small groups. There was a fire burning inside of a brown, red, and black brick fireplace, and a record player was spinning a vinyl of Édith Piaf's greatest hits. After politely declining multiple invitations to join some of the groups, I finally made it to my room. I sat down at my desk and started to translate some of Plato's work. I still couldn't get myself tired, so got out another leaf of paper and wrote the Greek alphabet until it became a series of ineligible triangles and pitchforks. When that didn't work, I moved onto reading The Great Gatsby. I had recently checked it out from the library here on campus. I figured reading this it would help calm my nerves, but no matter how much this book gives me joy, I couldn't help but compare myself to the Great Gatsby. Our lives were so similar, yet so different. Both bland, colorless, and already destined for an eternity to continue like this. That night was a restless and sleepless night.

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Saturday night I was at a party that the infamous Judy Poovey had invited me too. I stood inside the large house that was consumed by the smell of alcohol, marijuana, and cigarette smoke, a plastic cup of a mixture of different juices and vodka. Suddenly a girl, who I did not know the name of, came up to me. She had golden blonde hair and very tan skin, and after a minute or two of talking, I knew she was from California just by her valley girl accent, her mannerisms, and what topics she focused on.

"You're in that Greek class, right?" The girl asked.

"Um, yes I am. Why do you ask?"

"Judy told me about the. I heard some weird shit about those people." She spoke with distaste.

"Well, what did Judy tell you?" I asked slightly annoyed.

"That they worship the fucking Devil." When she this, her made her sound mortified. Like it was a tragedy to even utter the word 'Devil'. "Well, then I'll have you know, the Greeks have no Devil." I said with a straight face.

"That's not what I heard." She folded her arms, seeing as she was starting to get frustrated. "So what? You heard wrong." I was getting very annoyed with this girl.

"Well, that's not all I heard. I've been told other stuff too." She said trying to sound intimidating. "Who told you this? Judy?"

She wouldn't say.

"Well, who?"

"Seth Gartrell." I knew of Seth. I knew that he was a pretentious asshole, that he only wrote and spoke in hardly understandable abbreviations, and that his artwork was shit.

"What a swine, you know him?"

"Seth happens to be a good friend of mine." She spoke with a glint of antagonism in her eye. And at this point I really had to much to drink. "Is he?" I questioned. "Tell me, then, how does his girlfriend always end up with black eyes and constant bruising? And does he really piss on his paintings like Jason Pollock?"

"Seth," She spoke coldly, "Is a genius."

"Ah yes, a genius. A genius and master of deception, isn't he?" I spoke with the same amount of coolness. The girl kept going on and on about how Seth really was a good painter and the I didn't like him was because I was just jealous of him. What. A load. Of. Bullshit. As we continued to quarrel, I felt a tug on the elbow of my shirt. I simply just ignored it, thinking it was Judy asking me if I wanted a hit off of her blunt, like she always did around this time. To which I always kindly declined the offer. We were going back and forth until I felt the tug again. Except, this time it was more persistent and urgent. At this point I was really drunk and annoyed, "Judy how many do I have to tell you. No than-"

When I turned around, I came face to face with the six foot brown eyes girl that I've seem to grown to love.

"Oh hello." My words came out slightly slurred. "Hello, Rich. I just came by to see if you'd like to join me and Francis to the country side. He's got a house down there and we were thinking of spending the weekend down there." If I wasn't so intoxicated I wouldn't have blindly agreed and followed.

As we walked outside, behind us I heard the rustling of leaves but simply ignore my intoxicated mind believing it was an animal looking for a night time snack. Well, like I said, that's what I thought until I felt a lanky hand grab my shoulder, and it must've grabbed Angelina's as well because she let out a shriek.

"Boo!" It was Francis. Angelina turned to face him and gave him a playful slap on the chest. "Francis, you asshole!" She slapped him again. "I'd thought you two had run off and..." He trailed off at the end, but continued on. "And...you know." He raised his eyebrows up and down. "Oh my God, Francis! No. What is wrong with you?" I drunkenly laughed at the two. "Well, maybe if you didn't take to long. I wouldn't have gotten ideas." Francis said teasing the girl. "Well, maybe if you went in with me it wouldn't have taken me so long." Angelina poked a finger at Francis' chest making him stop in his tracks. "Well, maybe it wouldn't have taken you so long, if you weren't so short." Francis ran up behind Angelina, hugged her waist, picked her up, and spun her around. Angelina was a screaming and giggly mess. I may have been full of vodka, but this was the first time I have ever genuinely laughed here at Hampden. Francis finally set his best friends done and continued our walk to his car. "I'll have you know, I'm only two inches shorter than you. So don't even start with me." She spoke in a playful, serious tone of voice. Angelina made her way over to me, grabbed my hand and intertwined our fingers. I looked down then back up at her, she just simply smiled and followed Francis. "Oh, and by the way, while you were looking for Richard, an ambulance came and carried a girl out on a stretcher. Oh, and a black dog attack a group of hippies smoking pot." Francis spoke with what sounded like a hint of excitement in his voice. "Oh, that's sounds lovely." Angelina's voice was entirely laced with sarcasm.

After ten minutes of walking, we made it to Francis' car, it was a sleek black Mustang. We all got the car, and with a little from Angelina we both sat in the back. Francis turned on the radio and Angelina made small talk. With the soft noise coming from the radio, the soft, melancholic words leaving their mouths, and the soft hum of the car, I leaned my head against the window, my cheek resting on the padded door, drool escaping from the side of my mouth, I had the best I've ever had in the past two weeks.