Chapter 2: Expo-what?

Darren’s apartment was a five minute walk from the library, and he always used the time to think. Someone who didn’t know him might think he was angry, because whenever he thought while walking, he would concentrate until his brown eyes looked almost black and stood out in a stark contrast with his light brown hair and very lightly tanned skin. It was almost time for dinner, and Keith would kill him if he missed a meal again. Darren looked down at himself. At 5’10” and 150 pounds, he thought he could afford to skip a meal now and then, but not many of his friends agreed. Besides, it was mostly muscle. Darren’s shoulders shook with silent laughter. Who am I kidding? Sure, it might be muscle, but I tone, not build.

He climbed the stairs to the second story and paused, inserting his key and opening the door silently. Without books, he moved quietly on the carpet, sneaking up on his roommate, who happened to be cooking dinner on the stove. When he was absolutely sure Keith hadn’t heard him, Darren pulled him away from the stove, grabbed both Keith’s hands behind his back with one of his, and placed his other on the side of Keith’s head. Right before Keith’s hands slammed into his gut, Darren whispered “No punch.” Keith stopped, turned around, and promptly threw Darren onto the couch while Darren laughed uncontrollably. Keith was still busy with dinner, but chuckling while he worked. “You almost lost a vital organ there, buddy.” Darren was more sober now. “Yeah, but that could’ve been avoided if you’d listened carefully. Seriously, Keith. What if that had been some thief stealing your TV?” Keith smiled. “What, my priceless 13” black and white? I think I might have paid him to do that; just so I could get insurance money.” Darren gave a half-smile that Keith noticed with some concern. “What’s wrong, Deacon?” Darren still had no idea where his friends got that little nickname. Combining his first initial with the first syllable of his last name might work, but he suspected there was more to it than that. Whatever the case, they only called him that when they were worried about him. “Nothing, man, it’s just…everything, you know? How am I supposed get a story to this professor when I can’t even get the exposition right?” Keith frowned. “What’s an exposition?” Darren plugged his laptop in and started searching. “It’s the background of the story.” Keith still looked puzzled. Darren racked his brain for something else. Something Keith might understand… “It’s like…the narrator telling the audience details about the actors.” “Ah, that kind of background.” “Yeah.” Keith liked things simple. “Well, why can’t you just give it to him? You know, ‘He wore a Mexican boxing mask. He was short. He liked knives and old computers.’ That kind of thing.” Darren rolled his eyes. “Because that’s so….tacky. You have to be subtle.” “Well…I guess you’d know a lot about that, then.” Darren picked up a pillow. “Oh yes, I’m quite subtle.” Without turning around, Keith caught the pillow while stirring. “Yeah, but you’re also predictable.” Darren shrugged. “Can I help it if I naturally aim for your head with pillows? Anyways, at eight I have to go back for that evening class and turn in this incredible paper that hasn’t been started yet.” Kevin shook his head in disbelief. “How many papers have you done that way?” Darren grinned. “About…all of them. Got excellent grades on every one, too.” Kevin laughed. “Well, don’t tell the prof that. No telling what he’ll do. Ah, dinner’s ready. Sit down and eat, little man. You need it more than I do.”

Darren sat down, mumbling something under his breath about the quality of the food. Kevin kicked Darren under the table. “I heard that.” Darren rubbed his shin. “Oh, Emily absolutely loves that Jeff took her to that restaurant.” Kevin grinned. “And she was worried about us hooking her up.” Darren grinned back. “I think she was more worried about you hooking her up with me. Remember the whole tirade I went on about the ditzy people who can’t turn on a computer?” Kevin almost choked on his food. “She was about to tell you how she needed help with her computer because she couldn’t find the power cord. Dude, that was hilarious. Eh, she’s not your type, anyways.” Darren gave a tired smile. “I haven’t found anyone who’s ‘my type,’ yet. Just because I’m smarter than average doesn’t mean they have to treat me like I live in a jewel-encrusted, gold-plated bubble. Half the people that you introduce me to act like 12-year-olds meeting a boy band, and I swear some were about to ask for an autograph. Besides, a relationship would only make life more stressful.” Kevin shrugged and swallowed the last bite. “Whatever you say man. Don’t forget to work on that paper. I’m off to the site. See ya.” Darren waved. “Later. Be careful, man. I’ve been hearing about a lot of accidents at construction yards lately. Wouldn’t want to have to find a new source of rent and food.” Kevin waved back. “Don’t worry. Hard hats, new equipment, we’re being as safe as possible.” “Alright, take care.”

The hours flew by as Darren worked on his paper, finishing with a good half-hour to spare. Silver Lake Community College in the opposite direction of the library, and farther away. Walking fast, he could get there in twenty minutes and still have time left for a quick glance at the quiz material. As usual, his mind was working all the while. I still can’t believe that my math prof hasn’t tried to flunk me yet. Usually they get tired of seeing the perfect papers and do their best to undermine my work… Darren smiled darkly. But then, I have a lot of time to study…Sarsaparilla Bar? Where’d THAT thought come from? *mental shrug* Anyways…He walked up the ramp to the English building.

Once in his seat with his laptop on, screen filling with pages of notes, he began to relax. Here, he was in his element. Reviewing the notes took little time, and as students began filling the empty seats he noticed some new faces. Or perhaps he’d never noticed them before. I’m not self-absorbed, I’m just…”Pre-occupied, Mr. Kinsley?” Darren was roughly jerked out of his thoughts into a sea of amused faces. “No, Mr. Johnson.” “Then explain to the class, please, why your paper talks about Shakespeare stealing his work from Odysseus.” Darren almost sighed. Almost. How am I supposed to act normal when people like you won’t let me be? “Well, I did some research, and here’s what I found.”

- posted by Nick @ 3/28/2004 09:42:00 PM