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non_plot challenge #18 (Childhood): The New Kid
This would be Jack and Evan's first real meeting. Not much more needs to be said about that.
And yes, his mother's cookies really, really are that good.
Jack chewed on his lip nervously, flipping through the pages of the copy of 'The Hobbit' he was skimming for the fourteenth time. He was really, really starting to not like this having a roommate business.
It was bad enough that he was four years behind his brother Alex in school and that he didn't know anyone else in the whole building. But the business with the creepy roomie was just way too much. How many times could someone 'accidentally' get into someone else's bed in two days? And he could have sworn he'd caught this joker watching him get dressed in the morning.
So that morning he'd gone down to Student Affairs and demanded a new roomie. That day. The bored woman snapping her gum who took his information down didn't seem to take him seriously right away, so he'd had to take steps.
Taking steps, for Jack, was very easy. Just a smile. Jack had learned over the years that most people trusted him when he smiled at them. And there had to be some benefit in being short for your age. At the very least it made people want to help him. Which was the point.
So now he was in his new room. Shutting the book, he looked around the room again, trying to get a sense of his new roomie.
Half the room was empty of course. His half. The other half was ... messy, but not too messy; a computer, a poster with the 'Periodic Table of Beer' on it. One from a soccer team. Pictures - family? Looked like it. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror - black hair, eyes faded grey with worry and lack of sleep. Thin face with a worried expression pasted on it.
The door opened, and a set of sparkling blue eyes met his own; an eyebrow quirked up amusedly.
"And who are you, then? Awful skinny for a thief, aren't ye?"
The other boy was stocky, broad-shouldered already for fifteen; freckles were scattered carelessly across his nose, and he had thick black hair that was of the type that never wanted to stay combed, no matter what you did to it. He was taller than Jack - about five-nine or ten? - and had a lilting Irish accent that seemed to fit with the sparkle of his mischevious eyes. He was wearing jeans, doc martens and a ragged black Blues Brothers T-shirt.
"I - I - I'm Jack Donovan. Your new roommate."
This information caused Evan to nod thoughtfully, as though Jack had said something profound. "That's right. Yer the new kid, yeah?"
"Uh, yeah."
"So, mister Jack Donovan yer new roommate, did they park ye on one of the benches in the lounge for the past two nights then?"
"What?"
"What brings ye here then?"
"Uh ... I was rooming with ... this guy ... Bert Conway ... and ... uh ... he ... he was giving ... he and I didn't really ... get along too well." Jack trailed off lamely. He'd better be careful. He had to fit into the social dynamic around here, so treading lightly was probably his best bet while he felt out the territory.
"Ah, Bertie's up te his ol' tricks again." Evan nodded sagely. "Did he get inte bed with ye, accidentally or so he claims?"
"Ah, um ... yeah."
"Cheesly fuckin' bastard, he is." Evan flopped down on his bed and raised himself up on one elbow. "Tried that little trick with me he did, an' got himself a bloody nose fer his trouble too. Tries it with half the boys in school." He began rummaging around in his bag for a moment.
Jack sighed explosively. Well, that wasn't too bad. He seemed harmless, or at least only a little odd, anyway.
All of a sudden something hit him in the head. Startled, he picked it up off the bed.
It was a chocolate bar.
"Ye'll have te learn the ropes aroun' here soon enough." Evan commented with his mouth full. "An' one of 'em is that ye don't eat the food, yeah? Brings new meanin' te the word 'horrible'."
"Hey thanks." Jack bit into the chocolate bar happily. "Mmm. What is this?"
"Ye've never had a Dairy Milk bar?"
"Uh, no."
"Where are ye from, Jack-Donovan-yer-new-roommate? Darkest bloody Peru?" Evan spluttered.
"Indiana. You can just call me Jack... really ... uh ... it's almost Chicago..." Jack trailed off again.
"Well, that explains it then. Yer an American." Evan took another bite of his chocolate bar. Jack waited for a moment for the rest of the statement - perhaps why this was relevant or his thoughts on Americans in general and Indiana in particular, but no end seemed to be forthcoming. Evan just stuffed the rest of the chocolate bar in his mouth and swallowed.
When he spoke again he'd changed the subject entirely.
"The way ye surivive here is by eatin' potluck style. The lot of us chip in goodies. So ye'd better look at gettin' somethin' good in."
Jack bit his lip thoughtfully again, and rummaged through his trunk for a moment. He soon found what he was looking for - a small package wrapped in brown paper.
"Is this good enough?" He handed Evan one of the objects inside.
Evan inspected it thoughtfully for a moment and then took a bite. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he moaned softly, falling back down on the bed in a posture usually reserved for good sex and better chocolate.
"Oh, sweet bloody Jesus." he swallowed, crossing himself and then looking down at himself distastefully. "I can't believe I just did that then. Where did ye get those?"
"My mom makes them." Jack shrugged. "It's from her secret chocolate chip cookie recipe."
Evan set the cookie down and smiled broadly, reaching over to slap Jack on the shoulder in a friendly gesture. "Jacky, like th' man said, I think this is th' beginnin' of a beautiful friendship."
And yes, his mother's cookies really, really are that good.
Jack chewed on his lip nervously, flipping through the pages of the copy of 'The Hobbit' he was skimming for the fourteenth time. He was really, really starting to not like this having a roommate business.
It was bad enough that he was four years behind his brother Alex in school and that he didn't know anyone else in the whole building. But the business with the creepy roomie was just way too much. How many times could someone 'accidentally' get into someone else's bed in two days? And he could have sworn he'd caught this joker watching him get dressed in the morning.
So that morning he'd gone down to Student Affairs and demanded a new roomie. That day. The bored woman snapping her gum who took his information down didn't seem to take him seriously right away, so he'd had to take steps.
Taking steps, for Jack, was very easy. Just a smile. Jack had learned over the years that most people trusted him when he smiled at them. And there had to be some benefit in being short for your age. At the very least it made people want to help him. Which was the point.
So now he was in his new room. Shutting the book, he looked around the room again, trying to get a sense of his new roomie.
Half the room was empty of course. His half. The other half was ... messy, but not too messy; a computer, a poster with the 'Periodic Table of Beer' on it. One from a soccer team. Pictures - family? Looked like it. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror - black hair, eyes faded grey with worry and lack of sleep. Thin face with a worried expression pasted on it.
The door opened, and a set of sparkling blue eyes met his own; an eyebrow quirked up amusedly.
"And who are you, then? Awful skinny for a thief, aren't ye?"
The other boy was stocky, broad-shouldered already for fifteen; freckles were scattered carelessly across his nose, and he had thick black hair that was of the type that never wanted to stay combed, no matter what you did to it. He was taller than Jack - about five-nine or ten? - and had a lilting Irish accent that seemed to fit with the sparkle of his mischevious eyes. He was wearing jeans, doc martens and a ragged black Blues Brothers T-shirt.
"I - I - I'm Jack Donovan. Your new roommate."
This information caused Evan to nod thoughtfully, as though Jack had said something profound. "That's right. Yer the new kid, yeah?"
"Uh, yeah."
"So, mister Jack Donovan yer new roommate, did they park ye on one of the benches in the lounge for the past two nights then?"
"What?"
"What brings ye here then?"
"Uh ... I was rooming with ... this guy ... Bert Conway ... and ... uh ... he ... he was giving ... he and I didn't really ... get along too well." Jack trailed off lamely. He'd better be careful. He had to fit into the social dynamic around here, so treading lightly was probably his best bet while he felt out the territory.
"Ah, Bertie's up te his ol' tricks again." Evan nodded sagely. "Did he get inte bed with ye, accidentally or so he claims?"
"Ah, um ... yeah."
"Cheesly fuckin' bastard, he is." Evan flopped down on his bed and raised himself up on one elbow. "Tried that little trick with me he did, an' got himself a bloody nose fer his trouble too. Tries it with half the boys in school." He began rummaging around in his bag for a moment.
Jack sighed explosively. Well, that wasn't too bad. He seemed harmless, or at least only a little odd, anyway.
All of a sudden something hit him in the head. Startled, he picked it up off the bed.
It was a chocolate bar.
"Ye'll have te learn the ropes aroun' here soon enough." Evan commented with his mouth full. "An' one of 'em is that ye don't eat the food, yeah? Brings new meanin' te the word 'horrible'."
"Hey thanks." Jack bit into the chocolate bar happily. "Mmm. What is this?"
"Ye've never had a Dairy Milk bar?"
"Uh, no."
"Where are ye from, Jack-Donovan-yer-new-roommate? Darkest bloody Peru?" Evan spluttered.
"Indiana. You can just call me Jack... really ... uh ... it's almost Chicago..." Jack trailed off again.
"Well, that explains it then. Yer an American." Evan took another bite of his chocolate bar. Jack waited for a moment for the rest of the statement - perhaps why this was relevant or his thoughts on Americans in general and Indiana in particular, but no end seemed to be forthcoming. Evan just stuffed the rest of the chocolate bar in his mouth and swallowed.
When he spoke again he'd changed the subject entirely.
"The way ye surivive here is by eatin' potluck style. The lot of us chip in goodies. So ye'd better look at gettin' somethin' good in."
Jack bit his lip thoughtfully again, and rummaged through his trunk for a moment. He soon found what he was looking for - a small package wrapped in brown paper.
"Is this good enough?" He handed Evan one of the objects inside.
Evan inspected it thoughtfully for a moment and then took a bite. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he moaned softly, falling back down on the bed in a posture usually reserved for good sex and better chocolate.
"Oh, sweet bloody Jesus." he swallowed, crossing himself and then looking down at himself distastefully. "I can't believe I just did that then. Where did ye get those?"
"My mom makes them." Jack shrugged. "It's from her secret chocolate chip cookie recipe."
Evan set the cookie down and smiled broadly, reaching over to slap Jack on the shoulder in a friendly gesture. "Jacky, like th' man said, I think this is th' beginnin' of a beautiful friendship."
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...oh and isn't it? :) Love this bit. So cute.