Justin Timberlake dropped his bags carelessly on the curb as he stood there, staring at the back end of the taxi cab as it sped off down the street. Absentmindedly, he reached down into the left, back pocket of his faded jeans and pulled out his cigarettes and a lighter. He was just about to light up, when someone snatched the cigarette from his fingers.
“Uh, uh, uh!”
Justin spun to face the stranger, immediately reaching for stolen cigarette. “Who the hell do you think you are? Give that back!” he demanded, but the guy was so tall, Justin gave up trying to reach for it.
“Don’t you read?” the guy wanted to know as he threw the cigarette on the steps and ground it into the cement with the toe of his fancy shoes. He pointed to a sign by the railing. “No smoking unless you’re thirty feet from the building. Apparently, some people don’t like setting their lungs on fire.”
Justin felt his face heating up and his knuckles were clenched so tightly they were starting to hurt from lack of blood. “No one tells me what to do.” He paused to take out another cigarette, concealing it so that this time he could actually smoke it. “Besides, am I supposed to get a tape measurer out to see how far thirty feet is?”
The guy pointed across the street to another sign. “There,” he said. “Have fun killing yourself slowly. I’m Darren, by the way. Maybe I’ll see you around.”
Justin glared after him as he walked back up the stairs and into the building. “Whatever,” he mumbled, lighting up the second cigarette the very moment Darryl, or whoever he was, went back inside.
He pulled his things over to the edge of the steps and sat down, removing the cigarette from his mouth and exhaling a puff of smoke. God, he wanted to call another cab that would take him right back to his old neighborhood, but when he looked inside his wallet, it was empty. His mother had cut up his credit card and stolen his checkbook, so he couldn’t even pretend to have money. He put out his cigarette on the steps next to him and stood up. It was time to go inside and get this over with.
After he had dragged his things inside, his jaw practically dropped, and he stood there, blinking at the large quantities of belongings that all the other students had. Some students were standing between their well kept parents, kissing cheeks and trying not to cry in front of the other kids as they said goodbye. Others were pondering over their computers and entertainment centers, no doubt wondering how in the hell they’d manage to carry them up the stairs.
Justin’s awe struck expression turned into contempt, and he moved over to the front desk.
The girl sitting there had long, bright blonde hair, and a grin that probably took ten tubes of whitening toothpaste to perfect. “Hi!” she said in a squeaky voice. “Welcome to New York College for Creative and Performing Arts. Can I have your name?”
“Justin Timberlake,” he muttered, trying not to make eye contact with her.
“Great!” she exclaimed, and then began flipping through manila envelope. “Here’s your room key, and inside the envelope, you’ll find your room inspection sign in sheet, and a list of activities for freshmen during the first week of school!”
He glanced up at her for a second. The smile hadn’t faded in the least bit. “Thanks,” he grumbled as he took the key and envelope from her hands and then continued to pull his things to the staircase.
As he stepped into the third floor corridor, his breath caught in his throat, and his things fell from his hands. The ceiling formed into an arch, all the way down. The walls were cream colored marble, and the floors were hardwood.
Justin felt so out of place, that he wanted to head for the hills, but another part of him… a distant part, wanted to belong. He wanted to live in luxury, and know what it felt like to be treated like he was someone special. With a sigh, he picked up his things and continued down the hallway. He stopped in front of room three fifteen and stood still.
This was it.
He reached out and put the key into the lock. He turned, but nothing happened. The door must have already been open. After he shoved the keys back into his pocket, he turned to doorknob and entered. Someone with dark hair, sitting at a desk on the opposite side of the room turned around.
It was the anti-smoking guy.
“Shit,” Justin muttered, dropping his things to the floor.
“Hey, roomie,” Darren said, sliding his chair back and standing up. “First rule of the house… no smoking. Hand them over.”
The guy actually held out his hand to Justin. “Second rule of the house,” Justin replied, “no one makes rules for me.” He ignored Darren’s hand and placed his bags on top of his bed.
“We’ll see,” Darren quipped. “Hey, where’s the rest of your stuff?”
Justin ignored him. He only opened up a dresser drawer and started shoving his clothes inside. When he tried to close one draw on all of his clothes, he couldn’t get it shut. He opened it and slammed it harder, to no avail. Instead, he grabbed a handful of socks out and put them into the second drawer.
“Take it easy, Justin. You have all day.”
Again, Justin pretended not to hear as he stared at the wood paneling of the dresser.
“Hey, man,” Darren went on. “How come you never took my calls? Your mom said she’d tell you I called… but…”
“Maybe I didn’t feel like talking,” Justin finally spoke up. “Maybe I had better things to do.”
“Okay, whatever.”
It was quiet for awhile as Justin put a few things on top of his desk. He took his flat pillow out of one of his bags and set it on his bed. When he had most of his things put away, he sat back down on his bed. By the look on Darren’s face, it was obvious that he’d been watching him.
“Look,” Darren said as he looked right at Justin. “I don’t know what your problem is, or why you don’t want to talk to me, but I’m going down to the cafeteria for the ice cream social that starts in a few minutes. You can come if you want. Otherwise, you can watch TV or whatever. I don’t care.” He went to the door and opened it. “See you later,” he said on his way out.
For a moment or so, Justin stared at the closed door. He wouldn’t be caught dead at anything called an ice cream social. ‘Besides,’ he thought as he fell down on the bare mattress, ‘I’m way too tired to do anything else but just lie here.’ His trip to school had been more exhausting than he thought it would be, and the thought of staying, rooming with a geek, and actually going to classes made him want to be sick.
Maybe he could leave… just walk away with his things and find work somewhere. But he didn’t know what he’d do, and he sure as hell didn’t know where he’d stay. With an exasperated sigh, he closed his eyes and before he knew it, he felt himself drifting off into a deep sleep.
Chapter 2
Metamorphosis
Justin Fiction
I'll Never Stop {Fiction}
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