The Brink of Destruction

That new alarm clock scared the living shit out of me.

It's one of those big, honking, metal things with the two bells on top and a little hammer that freaks out slamming back and forth between them, and this was the first time I'd heard it. Loud? Oh dear God... I picked it up and couldn't remember how to shut it off, and all I could think to do was throw the fucker across the room. Here's the unbelievable part--Wynn never woke up!

Okay, I know I said I was planning to go get breakfast and go to chapel, but after destroying my clock, I fell asleep again, and when I woke up, it was almost 11:00. So much for plans.

Wynn was gone when I woke up the second time, but I swear I never heard her. Guess I was more tired than I thought. It was just me and Geoffrey, who was happily steaming and grimacing down at me. That thing really kind of creeps me out, but I don't want to say anything and seem like a pain.

Showers are interesting in the dorm. We never had to yell "FLUSHING!!" at home so we wouldn't boil each other like lobsters, for one thing. It's also a little unnerving to have the fraternity guys from the adjoining dorm come barging in, threatening to set the shower curtains on fire. But again, I'll adjust. With time. A lot of time.

Oh, and I found a lounge chair in the shower stall this morning. I don't think I even want to know...

Everything felt sort of like it was on hold, waiting for classes to start, so I decided to take the bus over to East Campus and explore the music building. Definitely a good move. I found the library, nicked a set of headphones, and got lost in jazz...blues...Bach and Mozart... It doesn't matter to me, as long as it's music. The only way I knew it was getting late in the afternoon was when the librarian tapped me on the shoulder, giving me a minor heart attack.

"I'm sorry to interrupt you, but we close on Sundays at 4:00. You've got a few minutes, so feel free to finish what you're listening to right now."

"Oh, okay--thanks!" I stammered. I returned the CD's I had borrowed and headed back over to West. When I got back to the room, Wynn was there, reading a magazine, and she smiled up at me when I opened the door. She really has a beautiful smile.

"Hey, Genny! I wondered where you'd gotten to! I went down to pick us up some muffins for breakfast, but you were gone when I got back."

I glanced over at my desk--chocolate chip, my favorite. "That was really nice of you," I said.
"I'm sorry I missed you. I went to the Biddle Building for a while, and lost track of time."

"Oh, you're into music, too?" She looked like an eager puppy.

"Well, I'm not sure if it's the same stuff you like, but yeah, I love a lot of different things. Mostly blues, I guess."

"Wow, that's great! Ever heard of the White Stripes?"

"Who?"

"Jack and Meg White--the White Stripes. They're not exactly blues in the classic sense, but you can hear the influence, for sure."

"Yeah, that sounds good. I'd love to hear them. But I think first I'm gonna run down and grab a sandwich or something--I'm starving!"

She jumped off the bed and started rummaging through her closet. "Wait, wait, I know I've got it right here... Here it is! Put this on and come with me!"

She was holding out a short, pleated plaid skirt with a giant pin on the side, and it looked as if she'd sewn a pair of black lace leggings inside them. In her other hand she held a Clash t-shirt, with the words "Straight to Hell" splashed across the front.

"Umm...." There was no way I could pull this off--my style was nothing like Wynn's, plus I had no idea where we were going.

"C'mon Genny, my friend Kiko invited me for dinner at the house she stays in. They're having a get-acquainted party, and she said they've even got a live band lined up to play. You'll love it, and you'll meet a ton of neat people!"

Her eyes were sparkling like some madman who's found a new obsession. I had the sinking feeling I was going to become a "project".

How pathetic.

So we hop the bus over to East, and take a short walk off campus into the neighborhood that backs up to the library and student union. Small student houses, mostly, decorated in what would be considered Modern American Tacky in polite circles, but it has a certain naive charm.

It wasn't hard to find them; there was a sofa sitting in the middle of the street in front of the house, with a cluster of people talking and laughing as if it were completely normal to have a yellow line running across the floor. Every so often, someone would yell, "Car!" and they'd get up, move the sofa, let the astonished driver pass, and then carry it right back to where it was.

The porch had been turned into an impromptu tiki bar, with colored lights strung along the ceiling, windows, and columns. An inflatable palm tree sat in the corner, its fat plastic fronds bobbing in the wind. There were stuffed monkeys, toucans, and flamingos positioned all over the place, and a bowl of bananas and mangoes sat on the makeshift cable-spool coffee table on the porch.

But the inside took the cake. These folks had hauled in 500 pounds of white sand, put down a plastic liner in the living room, and created a beach, complete with a plastic swimming pool full of blue water and goldfish.

These people were serious about parties!

Wynn had me by my wrist (not the one she had snapped a spiked cuff on) and was dragging me into the kitchen. "You've got to meet Kiko," she announced over her shoulder, shouting to be heard over the music. As we rounded the corner, we found a dozen or so folks gathered around platters of coconut shrimp, some kind of mango chutney, fried bananas, and skewers of teriaki vegetables. It smelled glorious.

"Wow, this sure looks a lot better than Pit food!" I exclaimed, to no one in particular. Wynn threw her head back in her characteristic laugh--I admired how freely it came to her.

"Wait till you taste it. These guys can really cook!" she said. "Hey, there's Kiko--" and began to pull me through the crowd towards a girl with long, glossy black hair drawn into a bun and held with green chopsticks. She let go of my arm long enough to hug the girl, and then turned to introduce us.

"This is my best friend, Kiko. Kiko, meet my wonderful new roomie, Genesis."

"You can call me Genny," I said, holding out my hand. She bypassed it and gave me a friendly hug instead.

"We don't stand on formalities much here--everyone's family. Hope you don't mind!" Her voice was small and sweet, like a bird's, and somehow the way she spoke made each word seem like a pearl, carefully formed and perfect. "Want some pineapple juice or something? We've got sodas and beer in the cooler on the back porch. Help yourself!" She was really gracious, not in the fake, sugar-wouldn't-melt-in-her-mouth way that some of the girls seemed to have, but the real thing.

"Sure--can I bring you one?" I felt at home already, warming up to the vibe that was going on.

"I'm fine, thanks. You enjoy yourself, and don't miss the toasted coconut--that was my contribution!" Her laughter was like wind chimes tinkling.

Out on the back porch, there was yet another knot of people sitting on the railing or on the floor. They seemed to be deep in conversation about professors and topics for their theses.

"Grad students," a deep voice muttered from behind me. It made me jump, but when I turned around, there was the kindest pair of blue eyes I'd seen in a long time, crinkling over a big, friendly grin. "They have no life, so we make them come out here so they won't ruin the party."

I guess I was gaping like a fish, because before I could answer, he reached out with one long finger and lifted my chin.

"My name's Mike. Nice to meet you."

"Genesis--or just Genny. Likewise." I waited, watching him to see if he was going to hug me too, but he just nodded and smiled. "So, are you a student?" I asked, sticking to the most basic question I could think of.

"Nah, I just live close by. My friend and I have a band and we're playing music for this extravaganza tonight."

"That sounds interesting. What kind of music do you play?"

He looked me up and down, and seemed to be satisfied with what he saw. "Oh, you'll like it, I promise. Just be sure to get up close to the stage, right in the middle, so you have a good view."

"Yeah, I'll do that. Do people usually dance at your shows?"

It was his turn to laugh, so hard he snorted. Pretty damn rude, if you ask me--I just asked a simple question!

"Yeah, I guess you could say that. Just be there and you'll see!" He winked at me and wandered off toward the kitchen, leaving me looking as dumb as I felt. What a smartass, I thought. He must be the singer--only they act that cocky.

I had to step around some of the nerdy-looking grads (sorry, but they were!) to get back into the kitchen, and as I excused myself, I noticed a guy sitting by himself on the hood of an old blue car behind the house, lazily smoking a cigarette. At least, I think it was a cigarette. I probably wouldn't know the difference if it wasn't.

He glanced up at me, but didn't smile. He looked sort of sullen and irritable, and he seemed out of place with all the cool people I'd met so far. When he looked away, trailing a plume of smoke, I stuck my tongue out at him, for no good reason except that he seemed like a jerk.

"I saw that!" Wynn teased, poking me in the back. "You better not make him mad at you. You'll regret it later!"

"And just who the hell is he? He acts like he thinks he's James Dean or something."

"That's Billie Joe. He's the singer for the band that's playing later," she said, head bobbing to the reggae tunes on the stereo inside.

"Wait a minute, I thought Mike, the tall blond guy was the singer."

She giggled. "So you met him already? Yeah, he's a sweetie. But he plays bass. Billie sings and plays guitar. I think he writes their stuff, too, but who knows? He doesn't talk to very many of us."

"What's up his butt?"

"I dunno, he just keeps to himself. Mike says sometimes he has a hard time handling crowds. He gets, like, anxiety attacks. Poor guy."

Well, that would explain it. There was definitely a crowd everywhere you went in this house. The back yard was about the only place you could find any solitude--even the bathroom had a cluster of people perched on the counter and floor.

Okay, so I've been wrong before. Call me an ass, I probably deserve it. Anyway, when I looked back down at him, he didn't seem like such a monster after all.

He seemed to feel me watching him, and when he looked up, I waved at him. He flashed me a peace sign, and I thought I actually saw a trace of a smile.

If you twist my arm, I might admit that I thought he was kind of cute.