Disclaimer: I don't own Kingdom Hearts... But I have a bobble-head cat on my desk! =D

Warnings: More swearing (it's in Roxas' POV again...), and Sora wanting to kiss Roxas (harhar).

Authors Notes: I'm really sorry this is late guys. I know I set the deadline last week, knowing that I was going on a week long ski trip, but when I got home I was EXHAUSTED and went straight to sleep. I tried to edit it last night actually, but I failed miserably, and my boyfriend had to drag me off to bed. I'll try to keep my updates on Friday night, but if there's no update you might want to check Saturday as well. I hope you enjoy this chapter. I know things are moving at a snails pase, but the real story should be underway soon. Also I'd love some reviews if it's not too much trouble, they really get my butt in gear and I love hearing from you guys.

Text Books, Test Tubes, Basketballs and Paper Hearts

or

The High School That Never Was

Chapter 3: Rainclouds On My Parade

Roxas

Lugging my skateboard under one arm, I come upon the large circle of dorms, looking particularly uninviting just for me, I suspect. I've been on this campus enough times to know my way around, what with trips to visit Gramps back in the day, or even bring my father a change of clothes when he had to work late. Even so, the road to the dorms is a fairly simple one and you'd have to be pretty thick to get lost. So with very minimal effort, I'm able to come face to face with what seems to be the most horrific looking sign I've ever seen.

It's written on a large piece of art paper, laminated for rain protection. The picture on it depicts what appears to be a rather crude drawing of a cartoon dog, duck and mouse. They all have their hands (paws?) held together in front of them, and a large green heart is scribbled beneath them. Above the rather poorly drawn picture, the sign proudly declares "TRINITY HOUSE!" in large rainbow letters. I groan inwardly, and impulsively tear the sign off the door, tossing it to the ground. If one less person has to see that monstrosity of a sign, then that should justify a little vandalism. Even my father can draw better then that.

Feeling sort of dubious after the ugly sign and the rainbow lettering, I reach up with my empty hand and pull open the door. It takes a good yank or two, since it's one of those particularly stubborn doors that seems to be weighted down for no reason at all, except of coarse, to make you look like a sissy, an idiot, or both. Inside, the dorm is brightly lit and painted an array of neon primary colors. The furniture is all overly plush and animal printed; it looks kind of like something out of Dr. Seuss, or else a rather sick children's show about an animal lover gone psycho.

I am musing about the psycho cutting up his pet dog, when I'm assaulted by a rather cheery looking guy who'd just appeared from the top of the stairs. He's wearing a white collared shirt and tie underneath a familiar looking blue and gray sweater vest baring the school's crest: a sort of spear shape next to a capital OA. "Hey there buddy! Welcome to Oblivion Academy, hyuk." He's smiling at me in this really creepy way, his lip covering all but two buck teeth, which may be responsible for his lisp of sorts. His hair is black and slicked back into pigtails, and even though he's a inch or so shorter then me, his shoes look about three times the size of mine. I have to wonder for a second if he's the psycho skinning big cats for the dorm's sofa. "My name's Goofy!" he tells me proudly, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. There's definitely something wrong with him. "Me and Donald are your dorm mothers!" he says, leaning in really close to me so that I have to take a step back. He raises his eyebrows expectantly, waiting on me to say something.

I want to say a great many things at the moment, for instance: this is insane. Is this some kind of a joke? Do you have dental problems? Had any of the chairs been pets? What I end up telling him, whist he rocks in and out of my personal space impatiently, is: "Donald and I." Because honestly, what kind of "exclusive" school's staff can't even use proper grammar? Whatever... this has to be a joke anyway; a rather cruel one played by my father to get me to stay at home. I shouldn't let it get to me.

"What's your name buddy?" He asks, ignoring my correction. Then again, maybe the poor guy doesn't understand. Maybe my father picked up some crazy homeless guy to teach me a lesson. It doesn't sound that far fetched.

Taking pity on the guy, I answer him with minimal sarcasm, which is particularly difficult, what with all the rainbows and crazy hobos. "I'm Roxas. Roxas LeBlanc." I give him my full name in case the poor sod doesn't know how to read, maybe he's memorized what room I have, being hired by my father and all.

He must know his ABC's though, because he scrolls down the list held in his left hand from the A's to the L's. "You're in the Blue Trinity suite on the second floor," he tells me cheerfully, "Here's your key." He fishes around in one of his overly large pockets for a moment before producing a large silver key on a Mickey Mouse key chain. I take the key hesitantly, touching him as little as possible, and begin my assent to the second floor.

"Blue Trinity's" door is painted a ridiculously obnoxious shade of electric blue. Tacked up on the door is another sign, this one made of poster board. "Blue Trinity" is written in the center of the sign in large typed lettering, along with "WELCOME: Sora, Roxas, Piglet, Tidus and Pooh" scrawled across the bottom in ballpoint pen. I blanch slightly at the names "Piglet" and "Pooh", wondering yet again if this isn't all a setup. But maybe not. Maybe there were just unfortunate kids with crappy names like that.

I unlock the door with my new key, briefly considering living on the street or staying with one of the gang. Hayner's mom likes me; she calls me "clean" and "upstanding". And he's only a short walk from the school if I cut through their neighbor's yard. I brush off the thought before it can haunt me, since there's no way my father would allow that. Hayner's just a slum kid as far as he's concerned; a bad influence, or whatever. Damn minor laws...

I pray silently to whatever god, that the inside of "Blue Trinity" will not be a repeat of the straight jacket designer from down stairs. To my relief, the door opens up to a fairly quaint looking room. The walls are off white, contrasted to the stained wood floor. An old looking brown sofa is pushed against the far wall, with matching chairs off to the sides. Two bare, ceiling high bookcases are set up on either side of the couch, and a standing lamp is positioned next to the left armrest. The only blue apparel is a set of modest periwinkle blinds drawn over both windows.

Four doors lead off to the right. The first, upon inspection, is a bathroom, equipped with two toilet stalls, one shower and a counter sink. The other three doors are empty dorm rooms, their occupant's luggage pilled on the floor, waiting to be unpacked. In the second room I recognize my green duffel in the luggage pile, among a Thomas the Tank Engine trunk and a Blue's Clues bag, as well as my box of textbooks. The bedding I sent is stacked on one of the fourposter beds. My roommates bedding, stacked in the same fashion on the bed opposite mine, is Dalmatian print, giving me a strange deja-vu of the first floor. On top of the sheets is a large Mickey Mouse pillow.

I go from room to room after that, before eventually deciding that my roommate must be either retarded, or a genius kid who skipped five grades. None of the other occupants have animal print bedding, or a five year-old's luggage. I also found a wooden sword and some stuffed animals under the desk. Even our neighbors, the poor monsieurs Piglet and Pooh seem to have packed in a relatively normal fashion. Although, one of them does seem to have packed a 13 ounce bottle of honey.

The air outside is too fucking cold for September, but that's what you get, what with the constant dark clouds blocking out the sunlight and the tall buildings channeling all the wind. I'm beginning to hate this city almost as much as I hate my father for sending me to his pretentious school and sicking daft hobos on me. It's drizzling abysmally, making me not only freezing, but wet.

There's a weird looking kid up ahead, most likely a new student, with crazy spiky hair. He's teetering around the puddles, over balanced by his large shoulder bag. He squints at the signpost to my left for a minute, and upon recognition, gives it a lusting look, like a guinea pig after a treat. He runs forward and, with a sickening lurch, smashes into the concrete. I choke out a few laughs before I can stop myself; it's hard not to laugh at that sort of thing. Schadenfreude, or whatever. Olette told me all about it after going to a musical with her folks.

"Having trouble?" I ask the poor, wet guinea pig. His bag exploded, leaving his books soggy and dejected in a puddle. Out of general detest for the world I add a mocking: "Klutz." The freak gets this goofy grin on his face, like he's recalling really good ice cream. It's sort of sickening actually, like a love sick school girl. So I break him out of his euphoric state with an impatient, "Need a hand?" He looks back up at me, as if only just remembering I am standing here, in the fucking rain, offering him a hand. His slack jaw pulls back into another shit-eating grin, and he springs to his feet like a jackrabbit, stumbling slightly, and shoves his damp books back into his bag.

"Yeah, thanks!" He's giving me the same lusting look he'd given the signpost earlier, and I feel another onslaught of fear for my person. I wonder which would be worse: eaten by a rodent, or skinned for a sofa. "Could you tell me where the dorms are?" He asks, eyes shining beacons of hope.

As pissed off as I am, I don't fancy telling the kid to piss off. After all, I offered him a "hand", whatever that meant. He'll probably just fallow me around if I don't deal with him now anyways. Whiny energetic kids are such a pain, especially the ones who are dumb enough to get lost finding the dorms. "Straight up ahead," I offer, jabbing my thumb behind me toward the dorms I'd just left. "The buildings all have name plates," horrible, horrible name plates, "so just look for yours..." I trail off, giving the kid an uneasy look. He looks happy enough to kiss me.

"Thank you so much!" He says, smiling like a kid on Christmas morning. He shoves his hand at me, waiting expectantly for me to shake it. I wonder, insanely, if he will throw me to to the ground if I give him the leverage. Heaven knows he has the energy. "I'm Sora. Are you a freshman too? What's your name?" He babbles on inanely, unawares, apparently, of the fact that I'm afraid to shake his hand. He doesn't retract the hand either, so I find myself studying the mud on his palm.

"Roxas, "I answer his last question, through some bout of insanity I'm sure. I regret it instantly, and force myself to walk away now, before things get too personal. I 'm not exactly in the market for new (crazy) friends. As I pass, I make sure to leave copious amounts of space between us, just in case.

"See you around, Roxas!" he calls from behind me, happy as can be.

"Not if I can help it..." I mutter under my breath, shoving my hands back into my pockets and continuing on.

It isn't a very long walk, in fact I find myself in front of the gates that, roughly an hour ago, had been my own personal entrance to hell, when Olette calls out to me. She's running towards me, calling my name and waving one arm above her head. I stop and wait for her to join me, fiddling with the lint in my right pocket. She grabs hold of my left arm, panting for breath and offering me a shaky smile. "I called you, like, five times dude." She says, rolling her eyes at me. "Why didn't you stop?"

"Didn't hear you," I answer truthfully, shrugging my shoulders. "It doesn't matter anyways, let's just get out of here. We can hang in twilight town," I suggest. "I could really, really go for some Sea-Salt ice cream right now."

"Sure," she says, bless her sole, extracting my hand from my pocket and lacing our fingers together. "Thanks for treating me."

I return to the dorm later that night with Olette, full of ice cream and considerably less irritable. It's been a long day, but all in all not awful. Then again, classes don't start until tomorrow. Then we'll see how much fun this place is...

"I'm staying on the third floor," Olette tells me, squeezing my hand briefly, before releasing it, as we approach the large metal doors to Trinity House. "In Red Trinity."

"Oh," I say dumbly, suddenly aware that I'll have to meet my new roommate now.
"I have a roommate." It seems like something she ought to know.

"Me too," she tells me, offering a smile. "I met her earlier, and she's nice enough." She pauses here, as if considering something. "I'm not sure you'd like her though. Her name's Selphie."

"Cool," I'm distracted and she can tell, but she still lets me go ahead of her, with a casual wave behind me, and retreat into my dorm. There's an odd silence hanging in the air; a pleasant surprise really. I wouldn't have even dreamed of peace and quiet on the first day. It's almost of boring really. Just a quite, dark room and crickets chirping outside. Light shines under the door of my room and after scrubbing a hand through my hair and yawning, I decide to brave a roommate if it means a warm bed.

"Roxas!" is the first thing that greets me when I open the door, momentarily blinded by the light. Once my eyes adjust, I'm able to recognize the same weirdo I helped earlier, smiling at me like I'm a friend he's known for ages, instead of a stranger who's apparently his new bunk mate. I mean, who the hell is this kid? He remembers my name, but I can't, for the life of me, remember his. It starts with an S I think... Steve? Sara? "I can't believe we're roommates! How cool!" He grins at me, awaiting my response.

"Er... Neither can I, um, Sam," I venture a guess.

"Sora," he corrects. "So do you want to talk about our pasts?" He sounds like a girl, and my bed is looking more and more appealing.

"Actually I think I'll just go to sleep."

"Oh..." He looks putout for about a third of a second, before he leaps up and flicks off the lights, hopping into his already made bed as I attempt to make my own. "G'night Roxas!"

"Goodnight, Sara," I mutter, securing my bottom sheet in place.

"Sora," he corrects again, laughing in the darkness. "You're bad at names, aren't you?"

"Whatever," I grunt, laying down the blankets before crawling into bed. He starts to say something else, but I miss it, because the moment my head hits the pillow I'm fast asleep.