Holy shit I've had this written forever I could have sworn I updated a while ago. Sorry to anyone who's still reading this.

Mood: Ashamed

Listening too: Tip Toes by Jayme Dee

"Sup dude," Gazzy said as he entered his room. His roommate, a tall blonde boy smiled at him.

"Hi. You must be Gazzy," he said.

"That'd be me! And you're Michel?" Gazzy replied.

"Mitchell, actually."

"Oh, sorry."

"It's fine. You were close."

"You mind if I call you 'Mitch'? Long names bug me."

"Uh, sure, I guess."

"Though 'Mitch' kind of sounds like a villain who tries so hard to be evil but no one can take him seriously because he sucks and is like four feet tall or something," Gazzy rambled as he randomly tossed clothes from his suitcase into his dresser.

Mitchell just nodded as the boy finished up. He went back to leafing through his motorcycle magazine, not really one for small talk.

About five minutes later, Mitchell smelled smoke. He looked up to find his new roommate, who couldn't be more than eight, burning something in a plastic cup. He was tossing things in, causing sparks at odd intervals.

"What are you doing?!" Mitchell panicked.

"Trying to figure out how many sparklers I can put in this before they cluster and explode at once," Gazzy answered in a monotone.

"That doesn't exactly look safe."

"Fine," Gazzy said, exasperated. He took out a little bottle of sand and poured it on the fair, causing it to go out.

Mitchell let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"Soooooooo, did you join this camp to meet chicks?" Apparently Gazzy was the kind for small talk.

"No, um, actually my boyfriend suggested it," Mitchell said.

"Oh, uh, sorry, for, uh, assuming, um, that," Gazzy said awkwardly. "Not that there's anything wrong with that, of course," he quickly added. He smiled for good measure.

Mitchell returned the smile. "So you joined to pick up chicks? You're what, eight, that's pretty ambitious, don't you think?"

"I'm nine and a half, for your information! And my brother thought it's be good. He's fifteen. And if I pay attention to what he does, the girls at school will be all over me. I mean, what girl doesn't what to date a male model?"

Mitchell laughed.

"No, girl that I know."

"Exactly," Gazzy said with a nod.

Mitchell checked his watch.

"Orientation starts in five minutes, you want to walk down now?"

"Sure."

Oh my gosh, I feel like I'm writing Gazzy like a mix of Jason Todd and Damian Wayne. Does he seem in character to you?

Fang quietly opened the door and went inside. His roommate was badly rapping Eminem on his bed so Fang let him be as he put his clothes away. The other boy's singing was starting to grate on him so Fang took out his own iPod and let "Ships in the Night" by Mat Kearney drown him out. He sat down on his bed and looked around the room.

The two beds were pushed against the wall facing the door. A window was between them along with two bedside tables with lamps. There was a single desk against the wall that Fang's bed touched and the two dressers were on the same wall as the door.

Fang heard the other boy, Liam if he remembered correctly, stop singing and saw him open his eyes and pull out his phone.

"Holy fuck!" he yelped at seeing Fang. "The hell, dude? How long have you been here?"

"About ten minutes," Fang replied.

"You could have coughed or something," Liam grumbled as he went back to his phone.

Fang just shrugged.

Suddenly, his phone with off with a text from Iggy.

Dude I think my roommate hates me

Fang sighed. They had only been here ten minutes!

What did you do?

Nothing I swear! But he just keeps glaring at me from across the room. The black man scares me bro!

Tell him a joke.

I don't think he laughs.

Make small talk

Iggy didn't text back after that, and Fang didn't hear the sound of his brother getting killed across the hall, so things must have gone well.

You wanna play you wanna stay you wanna be a breakline. You started messing with my head until I hit a wall.

Iggy looked cautiously to the larger guy sitting across the room. "Um, 'sup?" he said, trying not to be phased by the eyes shooting daggers at him.

"Huh?" the guy shook his head and looked Iggy in the eyes. "Sorry, man. I totally just spaced out on you, didn't I?"

"Wait, so you weren't just trying to kill me with your eyes?" Iggy asked.

Bryce chuckled. "Naw, man. We're cool."

"Okay, good," Iggy responded, acting overly relieved.

Bryce laughed again. "Sorry, 'bout that. El always tells me my thinking face makes me look like I'ma 'bout to kill someone."

"You almost killed me with your face alone, man! Who's 'El' by the way?"

"My girl. She's up on the third floor and about ready to kick my ass," Bryce answered.

"Oh, sucks. What did ya do?"

"I said that Marianas Trench was a horrible band."

"Your girlfriend is going to kill you because you don't like her favorite band?"

"And I may have refused to go to the concert with her, and said I would rather flush my eyes and ears with bleach," Bryce admitted sheepishly.

"Dude, that's harsh," iggy said with a shake of his head.

"I was joking! But, yeah," Bryce said, rubbing the back of his head.

"So I guess it's safe to assume that she won't be talking to you for a few days?"

"Unless I find a way to make it up to her."

"So, say you'll go to the concert."

"I can't. She already asked her friend, Terrance. He's going with her."

"Oh, man. It's worse than I thought! She's already got a new guy."

"Naw, man. They're just friends."

"That's just what she wants you to think," Iggy retorted, shifting his eyes back and forth.

"I'm pretty sure they're just friends, man," Bryce told him, giving him a weird look.

Iggy glanced at his watch.

"Hey, look, we should be getting downstairs to talk to Overly-Happy-Annie."

"I thought her name was 'Anne'?"

"Well, it you want to be boring!" Iggy threw his hands and left the room.

And now Iggy's acting like Sokka. Seriously, though, if they're out of character, let me know.

I'm working on chapter 8 now and I probably won't post anything until I'm a few chapters ahead of myself. But I really want to get this done and completed and feel like I've accomplished something. This will for sure be done before I start college next year.