Kids on Fire: A Free Excerpt From YA Novel Surviving Curtis Hall: The Lure of Blood

Attempting to avoid the violence and drugs at Hibernia High, sixteen-year-old Tristen McCoy and his friends have transferred on a sports scholarship to the elite Curtis Hall boarding school. Hometown lacrosse heroes, the boys are tested as they attempt to assimilate into a student body where excelling is the norm.

Tristen hones his leadership skills and sense of humor while finding his way in this new environment. He and his friends must rise to the challenge of competing with peers whose skills equal and perhaps surpass their own. Tristen’s attention is soon captured by the beautiful and alluring Marcella Venier. Despite their different origins and upbringings, the two are drawn to each other. Marcella, compelled to live a clandestine life with dark secrets and a covert research mission, struggles with her desire to further her own designs and still remain in Tristen’s world.

Events spiral out of control, and a student is lost in the subterranean tunnels beneath the school’s campus. Tristen and his friends stand accused of foul play, and in an effort to make things right, he enlists Marcella’s help in organizing a search party. During the perilous rescue attempt, danger threatens to not only sever the bonds of friendship of the group, but take their lives as well. They hope they can survive until graduation.
 

And here, for your reading pleasure, is our free excerpt:

CHAPTER 2 Billy: It’s Creepy

Billy climbed into the school bus hoping for a better day. He’d settled himself in his seat sideways, with his long legs up and his feet hanging over the edge. Since this bus wasn’t near full, he felt free to make all six-foot-one of himself comfortable. Unlike his best friend, Tristen, Billy did not enjoy change; even his own body could be a bit annoying He was enjoying his newfound height and the fact that he had much broader shoulders than Tristen, but he could do without the shaving and constant need for haircuts. For the past few years, he’d taken his cues from Tristen whenever he was unsure. He’d been this way ever since his dad died seven years ago.

Billy’s dad, Rob, was the kind of guy that everyone loved. He had worked as a contractor for as long as anyone could remember and had helped build just about all the houses in the neighborhood. They had a distinctive style: practical, homey, and comfortable. There was always a smile on his face and a friendly joke on his lips. Everyone in the neighborhood knew him, trusted him, and respected him. The day he didn’t come home from work, a cloud hovered over Hibernia. When Nina—Billy’s mom—got the call, everything in the house came to a halt.

Billy remembered it, always in slow motion. There had been a terrible traffic accident involving a tractor-trailer on Route 80. No further information could be given over the phone, so Nina had to go to St. Clare’s Hospital in Denville to get all the answers. Billy could remember that Tristen’s mom, Sue, came to stay with him and his little sister Sonya while Nina went to the hospital. The rest was kind of blurry. After Nina came home and told them Dad was gone, they all just sat there frozen, like it was a nightmare. They just sat there praying that soon they would all wake up and Rob would walk through the front door. But he never did walk through that front door again, and their home was never quite the same.

It’s hard to believe that the memory could still be fresh after so many years, but the great memories were also there. That’s why Nina would never leave the neighborhood or the house that Rob had built. They had friends here that would last a lifetime, including Billy’s buddy Tristen. The first time Billy held a Lacrosse stick, his dad had put it into his hands. Billy would never forget the smile on Rob’s face at all those first games, and he would never give up playing, because it gave him a way to be close to Rob. There are just some things in life that you can’t ever let go of. It was no wonder that these two best friends could love a game so much. Billy just wished that they could have finished out high school in Hibernia, even if it wasn’t as big or fancy as the new place. He had had everything he needed and wanted at Hibernia High, but the thought of finishing without his teammates would have proven too much for him to overcome even if he had been able to convince Nina to let him stay. Maybe all the adults were right and Curtis Hall would help them move into the future; Billy just wasn’t sure he was ready to forget the past.

As the bus pulled up to Tristen’s stop, Billy snapped out of his trance. “Tristen, man, what took you so long? It was supposed to be an essay, not an epic novel.”

“Come on, Billy, it would be unfair of me not to share my literary greatness with the class,” Tristen replied cheerfully.

“Were you at least close to reality this time, or will Curtis Hall be basking in some holy glow to the point that we’ll all need sunglasses to look at it by the time you’re done reading this masterpiece? Truthfully, I don’t see why you love it so much; it’s kind of creepy,” said Billy, running his hands through his brown fauxhawk nervously.

“Creepy? That is just ridiculous. You know it’s cool. Come on, man, lighten up. Once you get used to it, it’ll feel just like home.”

“Yeah, if my name was Van Helsing, maybe. I mean, what’s with all the weird classes, and what about the mines? Don’t you think it is unusual to build a mansion on the edge of thirty-five acres filled with abandoned mines? And don’t even try to talk me into taking that class on rare minerals where they actually go down there with picks and shit!”

“The land was probably just cheap. Billy, you are getting yourself worked into a lather. Chill. I just like to make the most out of my experiences; you can do whatever. No peer pressure—just say no and all that,” Tristen said dismissively.

“Okay, Tristen, you’ve made your point. Maybe I just need to get used to the place.” Billy couldn’t get the words out without automatically thinking, that what Tristen didn’t know was that Billy didn’t want to get used to it. He felt like he didn’t really fit in. Billy thought he lacked the confidence, creativity, and abundance of talent that flowed from Tristen so naturally. Besides, he missed Sasha. Why the hell did his parents talk my mom into this new school? Billy thought. I was perfectly happy at the old school. We were on top of everything all the time; now I just feel like the schleppy sidekick. This sucks!

“My friend, I can tell by the look on your face that you are going to the dark side. You are so lucky I can’t read your mind,” Tristen said. “And what’s with the black T-shirt and black jeans? Maybe some color would cheer you up.”

Damn straight I don’t want you in my head, Billy thought. “Seriously, Tris, I’m giving this my best shot.”

“So we will just have to dial in lacrosse and figure out how to get you some more time with Sasha. You’ll see; everything is going to work out. Trust me—have I ever let you down?”

“No, you never let anyone down. Aren’t you sick of your own perfection?” Billy said affectionately.

“Who, me? Never!”

At that moment they pulled up to the wrought iron gate embellished with a huge golden CH insignia shimmering in the sunlight. Once past the gate, they had a clear view of Curtis Hall.

I guess it does look much more intimidating at night, Billy thought. Even those first few days we arrived greeted by an overcast, dismal forecast made this place appear ominous. In the bright light of day, Billy saw a beautifully restored mansion—more of a granite castle effect really—combining building styles. He felt the medieval European influence, softened a bit by the trees on either side. As if to create a more welcoming feel, there was also a pond with a fountain nestled in front, completely encircled by decorative shrubs and several stone benches. All in all, Billy still preferred the warmth of wood construction.

With that, the bus ride was over, and Tristen was out the door almost as fast as it opened. Billy, on the other hand, felt as if he were dragging himself to his first class, which was Ceramics. Thank God this is a class that you really can’t screw up unless you pull a no-show or curse out a teacher. It was a terrific way to wake up with very little pressure, and it was fun.

One thing that Billy liked about Curtis Hall was that all the teachers, which everyone called professor, seemed to have cool nicknames. For instance, the ceramics teacher, Professor Rocco, was known as Picasso. He was obviously really into art. The swordplay instructor, Professor Spencer, was referred to as Achilles. The real Achilles was one of those old-time Greek warriors; Billy had seen the DVD of Troy a couple of times. It was one of his mom’s favorites, and it had some cool battle scenes. Spencer sure didn’t look anything like Brad Pitt, though he certainly took swords seriously enough.

Maybe, Billy thought, if I focus on learning every professor’s nickname, the time will pass quicker and I can start to blend in. This was one trait that he really needed to work on—self-confidence.

One more thing Billy thought was very cool about CH: the chicks were definitely smokin’ hot! At home you could always find your token hotties—Sasha included, naturally—but at Curtis Hall, everyone looked almost perfect. It would be great to find just one unfortunate-looking dude just so I could silently say, “Wow, he got hit with the ugly stick.” Billy couldn’t remember ever being so shallow; this was not normal. No good could possibly come from all this thinking.

At that moment Billy recalled having heard something about delayed admissions. With any luck, Sasha would qualify and begin class by the end of the month. That would make all the difference in Billy’s mind; just knowing that he would have a chance to see her during the day would be the confidence lift he needed. He found himself unable to stop thinking about her. The long, curly, almost black hair; beautiful, almond-shaped green eyes; skin like tanned crème—God, he loved that girl. She smelled like fresh laundry. Many times he thought that sounded nuts, but to Billy, that was the best smell in the world. This train of thought was definitely no more helpful than the last.

Billy really needed to focus on something else. Maybe we can go fishing this weekend with Tristen’s uncle Vinny, he thought. Vinny was a nice heavyset guy who was very jovial and loved to fish. At the present, he was into surf casting, so the three would head down to the shore. Uncle Vin loved to drive. They would spend hours getting to the shore and then hang out and fish for two to three hours—just long enough to get nice and cold, or till Uncle Vin’s beer ran out. Vinny was full of clever stories also, so the group never ran out of things to talk about. Billy didn’t have an uncle to hang out with, so he looked forward to these times with Vinny. It is a very relaxing way to spend five or six hours, give or take some time spent in traffic. No pressure, no stress—just the ocean and, with luck, some fish. Last year Vinny caught a thirty-nine-inch striper, which almost didn’t fit in the cooler. That was a truly magnificent fish, and an equally happy day.

At this point Billy had daydreamed his way to gym class. Now it was time for some blood, sweat, and tears. The boys needed to be in prime condition this year to kick ass and take names on the lacrosse court. This was his absolute favorite part of the day; this was where he always fit in. No amount of effort dedicated to his sport was ever too much, as far as Billy was concerned. There was nothing as gratifying to him as putting his all into the game.

In a matter of forty minutes, Billy was able to effectively stop twelve shots on goal, ensuring that the opposing team was scoreless and his team victorious—a thoroughly satisfying conclusion in his eyes, not to mention the eyes of his teammates.

Feeling refreshed and like a conquering hero, Billy left the gym.

“Hey, Justin, great game, man. You headed to lunch?”

“Yeah, Billy, I’m famished. What’s on the menu today?” asked Justin.

“Chicken Marsala, I think. At least the food here is worth the trip!” said Billy.

“Man, I have never eaten this good,” said Justin. “I don’t think my mom knows we have a kitchen in our house. Even if I never learn a thing, I can’t lose eating here—and I don’t even have to do the dishes, either. This is the life! Look over there, Bill; that chick Mandy, or Sandy, is checkin’ me out. She is one sweet piece of pie!”

“Dude, you did not just say that. You don’t even know her name; it’s Candice, you idiot. And if you are going to insist on continuing this vulgar display of gawking, I may just have to go over to Candice and tell her that you want her number,” Billy said, busting Justin’s chops.

“Stop, dick,” said Justin. “I will ask her myself when I’m ready. Right now I need to concentrate on refueling. Survival first—then the hottie distractions.”

“Yeah, food is calling my name too, and my mom is a good cook!” said Billy. “I wonder if they would give us seconds?”

“Sweet, have you guys checked out those babes in the corner? They are lookin’ mighty friendly today,” said, Paul.

“Hey, Paul. Yeah, they have definitely improved our view. Justin was just telling me about his plan to go over there as soon as he was done chowin’ down. I will leave you to it; I am on a quest to find a quicker way across campus. I have debate class next, and I have not been on time yet. Later!” With that, Billy was once again on his way.

Debate class had so far been kind of boring. They were discussing some ancient law that states the government can buy you out of your property if they decide they need it. Not really his cup of tea, but it might be nice to get there on time. Billy thought there must be a shorter way and had decided to try cutting through the science wing, but that had turned out to be a “long cut.” Someone, in his or her infinite wisdom, had decided that the Science Department needed a museum and planetarium attached. At some point Billy had heard the inspiration for that had come from one of the “old money” families on Long Island (that’s in New York) called the Vanderbilts. It seems the Vanderbilts were, in fact, able to build a real museum and planetarium on their own vast property. Pretty cool, but once again, way too big! Billy thought to himself. He didn’t want to be a senior before he felt comfortable finding his way around. At this rate, that seemed like a distinct possibility.

It was the general consensus of most of the student body that it was not only possible but also much more practical to reach any building or extension wing through the basement. Essentially, that meant that Billy’s dislike and distrust of the subterranean tunnels was unfounded. He was just not open to that many new things all at once; their opinions were still not proof enough to sway Billy’s opinion. As a result of his excessive caution, he opted to cut through the equestrian section so he could stick to daylight. “How bad could a few horses be anyway?” Billy thought aloud.

If only things were as simple in practical application as they were in Billy’s mind, life in general would be a much less bumpy ride. Billy was now beginning to connect the dots. During his near-death experience on the polo field, he decided a few things. One, horses are very large beasts totally unsympathetic to his plight in life. Two, no shortcut should include being trampled into oblivion. Three, polo was not a game reserved for the Prince William crew back in England, as he had always believed. Four, inanimate objects are easier to work with and far more “Billy friendly,” so he would stick with them until further notice.

Note to self: still two minutes late to class. Think I’m gonna have to man up and try the subterranean tunnels, Billy thought in dismay.

In the background, Billy could hear glass shattering. That was not the type of sound that he was supposed to hear in between classes. This was a perfect example of why staying at Hibernia High would have suited him just fine. At least when people tried to take a shortcut there, they weren’t greeted with all kinds of commotion. Within moments, sirens began to wail as emergency vehicles approached from the main entrance of the school grounds. Instead of feeling reassured by the sound of help arriving, Billy felt like he had landed in the middle of crisis central.

CHAPTER 3 Bryce: Accident

Deep within the subterranean tunnels, two boys were running as if their lives depended on it. Sometimes students in the tunnels would get turned around or confused, and sometimes they heard strange noises. Sometimes their imaginations could get carried away. This was NOT one of those times! The brown-haired boy in the lead was pushing his strides to their fullest in an attempt to put a safe distance between himself and whatever was in pursuit. The second boy was struggling to keep up with his friend; he not only ran on shorter legs but was also constantly pushing up his black-rimmed glasses. What they both lacked in athletic ability they more than made up for in intellect and creativity; however, that was of no use at this moment!

“Did you see what I saw, man?” asked Bryce, half gasping.

“I don’t know what I saw, and I don’t really care; get us the hell out of here, Bryce!” exclaimed Keith, red-faced with exertion.

“Just keep running, Keith; we’ve gotta come to a marker soon,” shouted Bryce in return.

“Don’t worry, Bryce; I’m right behind you, man!” said Keith.

They had been running through the tunnel for at least four wrong turns. Bryce could feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing straight up as dripped ice-cold sweat. He quickly glanced back to make sure Keith was still behind him. This was not what he’d had in mind when he talked Keith into cutting through the tunnels today.

“I’m doing my best, Keith, but I can’t navigate direction at this speed; it’s too dark. Do you see anything behind us?”

“I can’t see a damn thing, but I can hear it. Is it left or right?”

A gust of wind howled through the tunnel, and just then a lantern ripped free from the wall and crashed to the floor. A staircase came into view, and the boys, seeing their escape, raced toward it. When they reached the stairs, they scrambled to the top. They came to a door, and they both hit it simultaneously, but it didn’t budge. As Bryce frantically tried to turn the knob, Keith threw his full weight against the door again and again. Finally, as both boys launched their full weight against the door, it swung open, and Bryce landed facedown, flat on the floor. Keith managed to stumble into the hallway, and as he reached the window across the hall, something flew at him with a bloodcurdling shriek. The phantom menace that had pursued them through the tunnels was hurled through the plate-glass window, letting loose shards of glass in all directions, some of which unavoidably slashed Keith’s arms, torso, and face. Never having seen blood up close like this before, Bryce reacted in the only way that his panic would allow. His sole thought was to comfort Keith even though he had zero first aid skill or training.

“Oh my God!” Bryce exclaimed. He tore off his jacket, rolled it into a ball, and placed it beneath Keith’s head. “Somebody call an ambulance … now! Keith, you’re gonna be okay, man. Stay awake, Keith; look in my eyes … Dude, open your eyes!”

He held his hand to Keith’s throat, hoping to slow the bleeding; he just didn’t know what else to do. God help me, Bryce thought painfully. It looks like so much blood!

Bryce could feel Keith’s grip on his hand begin to weaken. Keith looked awful, his blood-soaked brown hair a mess and his glassy brown eyes dilating. He said a quick prayer for Keith to hold on. He could hear ambulance sirens in the background, as well as the growing noise of a forming crowd. People were whispering, and it began to sound a lot like static with an occasional word coming through: … blood … raccoon … is he dead? The words started to feel like knives stabbing at his brain. For a minute Bryce thought he would scream. Instead he focused all his attention back onto Keith.

Just then the emergency medical team shoved their way through the crowd and, after carefully detaching Bryce, began administering care to Keith. A policeman questioned Bryce, who was numb and in an almost dreamlike haze. He wasn’t even sure how to answer many of the questions; somehow they just didn’t compute. That didn’t seem to stop the cop from asking more questions; at least the sound of his voice was calming. Pretty soon Bryce could see Keith had been bandaged and packed up in the ambulance for his trip to the hospital. Keith was critical, but he was young and strong, and that brought his odds way up.

It was a raccoon that had leapt out of the staircase at the two boys. It was a strong, stocky creature, easily a yard long. It had launched out the window and, after a fall of two stories, perished below. The animal’s aggression left it nothing to show for itself except a broken back and a shattered skull. Bryce had never seen a raccoon up close before; he hadn’t realized they were so big. On TV they seemed much more cute and cuddly—so much for TV.

As shaken up as he was, Bryce couldn’t help but be grateful that neither he nor Keith had taken that fall. It just didn’t make sense to him that the raccoon would attack. Normally raccoons just didn’t act like that—not that he had had any experience with anything like this before. Truthfully, he was also glad it had only been a raccoon chasing them; his imagination had done backflips down in that tunnel while he was running full steam ahead. It was amazing what a little adrenaline could do; he still felt the residual effects even now that the danger had passed.

Bryce also couldn’t help but wonder if they had accidentally disturbed the raccoon’s nest and maybe that was what had set the creature off. The police said they would have to check the animal for rabies. It made sense that the authorities would want to know if there were a bunch of diseased animals running around on campus.

That was one more job that Bryce would be crossing off his list of future career choices: tracking down and disposing of sick animals. He couldn’t help but wonder what kind of a morbid person signed up for a job like that anyway. All he pictured in his mind was Norman Bates from the film Psycho. The sooner he got this stuff off his mind the better. Bryce headed back to his dorm room and took a sleeping pill.

***

After a few days passed, things at Curtis Hall seemed to go back to normal. Keith was going to be laid up in the hospital and out of commission for a while, but at least he was in stable condition. Bryce had heard some professor say that if Keith was out for three weeks, they would automatically give him an A for the quarter. Bryce was glad to hear that there was an upside for him; He knew it sucked to lie in a hospital stitched and bandaged up. He had gone to visit Keith almost every day—not that Keith was really with it on all the pain meds. Bryce still couldn’t believe that he had gotten away without a scratch—a fact that left him with a feeling of guilt.

St. Clare’s Hospital had a great plastic surgeon on staff, which comforted Bryce because the last thing he wanted to deal with was Keith’s face being scarred up for life. Bryce just wanted his friend back; now it looked like there was a good chance of that. The doctors all agreed that he was making very good progress; that was a relief too.

Still, life had to go on as usual for Bryce. After all, he wasn’t hurt—only preoccupied. In any event, he did his best to get back to normal and stick to his routine. That meant classes, socializing with friends, studying, and drawing. His mind was immediately brought back to socializing as he caught a glimpse of Serina walking toward him in the courtyard. It was a gray, overcast morning, yet the courtyard retained its tranquil natural beauty.

“Hey, Serina, what’s up?” asked Bryce, his brown eyes twinkling as he drew his shoulders back to maximize his five-foot-ten frame.

“Oh, hey, Bryce, how is Keith doing?” was Seine’s reply.

“The doctor said he’s stable, but it’s gonna take a while. You should go visit him when he’s up to it.”

“Yeah, maybe I can get some of the girls to go with me one day next week,” Serina said, shifting her weight uncomfortably. “Well, see ya.”

“Later,” said Bryce.

Serina had always been Bryce’s kind of girl—long legs, beautiful blonde hair, blue eyes, and a superficial personality. He was really into her for a while, and she had paid just the right amount of attention to him—that is, until those “Hibernia jocks” showed up. Now that was all the chicks around Curtis Hall seemed to notice. That was all well and good if you were a captain of a sport team, because eventually the newness would wear off and those types of girls would fall in line again to worship at the altar of athletic greatness. Bryce, however, who was flying under the radar (as he liked to call it), ran the risk of being completely undetected by the opposite sex!

What pissed him off more was that he couldn’t even call them “dumb jocks,” because most of them were scholarship material. Especially that Tristen prick; he was a real piece of work. Smart and ridiculously good looking—grossly unjust! Bryce just didn’t need this. Like there hadn’t been enough competition at Curtis Hall to begin with. Sometimes life did not seem fair.

Girls like Serina always traveled in packs, and just like other pack animals, they had an uncanny way of being able to sniff out weakness. It wasn’t that Bryce actually considered himself weak by comparison; however, he did prefer art and music to sports. The pack might learn to appreciate art and music, but somehow they always migrated to the physical displays associated with sports, as if natural selection demanded physical prowess to ensure survival. Bryce felt it was very “in your face.”

Unlike the other schools that all the Curtis Hall students had originated from, everyone was smart here, so that made intelligence expected instead of an advantage. Here you needed a trump card, like, “Hi, my name is Tristen McCoy. I’m an honor student who is awesome at sports like lacrosse, and by the way, I love to write; can I read you some cool poetry?” Bryce couldn’t help himself; Tristen just got under his skin. It was just nauseating. Bryce felt that if Tristen were at least unfortunate looking, then there could be some justice in the world. Instead he had to compete with Tristen’s six-foot-two frame and his blond hair and green eyes—totally pathetic; what was there to keep the girls from swooning? “Maybe if I offered to catch them—that kind of thing could be very useful in a place like this,” Bryce thought out loud.

He would just have to figure out a way to knock Tristen down a few pegs; he felt public humiliation would really be satisfying. He’d have to put his mind to thinking of ways to trip up this thorn in his side. Bryce had been here first, after all, but as usual, only to the victor go the spoils of war—in this case, the hottest girls. Engrossed in his train of thought, he didn’t hear Jade approach.

“Bryce Turner, what are you thinking about?” Jade asked.

“Hey, Jade, I was thinking of you, of course,” Bryce said, flashing a smile at the pretty, petite Korean girl with long black hair.

“I’ll just bet you were. Have you seen Serina and Cassy?” Jade gave her hair a toss.

“Yeah, they were headed for the dorms.”

“How is Keith holding up? I’ll bet his parents were totally freaked out!”

“You could say that, especially since they had to jump ship from their two-month cruise. He seems pretty stable. I think he could use some company as soon as they lower his pain meds and he can stay awake for more than five minutes.”

“I would totally be into visiting him; I just need to find a ride. My mom is always working. Hey, I’d better hurry up if I’m gonna catch up to the girls. Bye, Bryce.” Jade left quickly.

“Later, Jade,” Bryce answered as he went back to his scheming. Scheming was by far one of the things Bryce did best. He started to think it was too bad that Keith had gotten in the way of that raccoon instead of Tristen. Animals could be so unpredictable; he would have to make it his business to find out what Tristen knew about horses. Perhaps he could meet with an unfortunate accident while attempting pollocrosse. Bryce couldn’t see how Tristen would be able to resist trying any version of lacrosse, even one played on horseback. Bryce thought aloud, “He’s such the joiner. Go, team, go!”

There was another interruption, but this time Bryce couldn’t help but smile at it. “Bryce, come on, look alive, brother! Chem class won’t be waitin’ fer ya,” said Colin as he gave Bryce the usual shove.

“Colin. Thanks, man, I’m on it!” replied Bryce.

“It’s a good thing, too; aye, brother. You’d be a lost soul without me, daydreamin’ like ye do.”

“I know, I know. it’s my American lack of discipline and focus that is to blame,” said Bryce in a wise-ass tone of voice.

“I’ll not be disagreeing with ye. Now let’s move; we haven’t got all day, brother!”

Colin was nothing but a great friend to Bryce, even if he was a bit on the arrogant side. Colin had somewhat unruly reddish hair and sincere blue eyes; he was one of the only people taller than Bryce that he didn’t feel intimidated by. All of the students at CH needed friends to help them get where they needed to go in life, and Colin was always up to the task. He was bright, funny, and very colorful. Bryce had to admire his zest for living and his ability to blend in even when he so obviously stood out. Colin had come from Scotland, a difficult move for someone his age. Bryce had considered how he would have felt moving to a foreign country; truthfully, it seemed totally intimidating. Colin also had that I’m-foreign-so-girls-find-me-irresistible thing going on, which was also good to be associated with. There weren’t too many Scottish students at Curtis Hall. The fact that high school made close friendships an integral part of a student’s social status prompted Bryce to be open to recruiting friends from people who found themselves in interesting circumstances. It seemed to Bryce that here at Curtis Hall it was all the more important to be viewed as likable or special. This fueled his need to be seen with friends.

For example, Bryce had met Colin freshman year. Colin had been standing in the center of the hallway, clearly frustrated, shouting, “Ho ye! Whaur’s the library; A’m tint!” which, roughly translated, means “Excuse me, where can I find the library? I’m lost!” Even as he waved his arms, all five-foot-eleven of him appeared invisible to the moving crowd. At that point Bryce, being the good citizen that he was, took it upon himself to help Colin out. Had the situation been reversed, Bryce was sure Colin would have not only saved him but also tucked him into bed that night with milk and cookies to boot. Seriously, Colin had been a devoted friend ever since. How was Bryce able to decipher Colin’s colorful use of language? Actually, he had only understood library, but that was enough, and once Colin calmed down, a few more understandable words escaped his lips. Over the course of time, Colin adjusted to American English pretty well. As for the accent, it only served to get him some welcome attention from the ladies. Bryce found that tidbit very helpful at parties. All in all, a win-win situation for them both.

The boys soon arrived at their next class. Chemistry was one of Bryce’s favorite classes—who didn’t like messing around with experimental compounds? As he and Colin entered the room, he thought, Oh yeah, let the learning begin, and he chuckled to himself.

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