I was twelve minutes early for Human Biology class. I had come to the Academic Building to get a coffee at the Jazzman's Cafe before lecture and there hadn't been a line. After navigating the empty back hallways of late afternoon, I arrived at the classroom to find a kid who lived in my Hall, Billy, already sitting in class, looking very pleased. I didn't know Billy well, but we were clearly aware of each other's existance due to the proximity of our living arrangements and accursed mutual friends. This made the awkward gesture of sitting far away from him and scrolling absent mindedly through my cell phone unacceptable and so I was forced instead to sit down near him and exchange at least the casual pleasantries. He had chosen a seat in the dead center of the classroom. If the room had windows this would have bothered me, but it did not. As a matter of fact, this was one of the only rooms I ever came across at Newport that didn't have a view of something pleasant, like the ocean or a grove of pine trees. All it had was four off white walls, a white board, a model skeleton and grey plastic desks. As I eased down into one of the clean grey desks, I gave Billy a half smile and a half nod, hoping it would appease his need for forced social interaction.
"How's it goin' man?" he asked happily. My double half-gesture clearly hadn't satisfied him.
"Oh you know," I replied, "Same old."
"Nope!" he exclaimed excitedly with a dogshit smile on his face.
Thrown off by his volume and unusual response, I stammered for a second before letting out a semi-timid "What?" and taking a giant pull of my coffee.
"No," he answered, "I don't know how it's going for you. I don't see you half as much as you see yourself, so I don't know. That's why I asked. And you didn't even think to ask me back, because you don't give a shit. You gave a shitty answer and showed no courtesy."
As he watched my facial expressions contort with shock and sudden discomfort, he looked even more pleased than before. Finally, he broke eye contact when it was clear that I had no solid response to his lecture on the art of pleasantries and small talk. He reached into his backpack and took out a wooden ruler. I watched him intently as he began measuring every edge of the desk. Once, twice, three times he measured it; making observations under his breath that seemed to be of the utmost importance.
"Is... is it changing?" I asked.
"Well, it's a desk." He replied matter-of-factly.
"Oh."
With that, I forced my expression back to one of casual contentment, turned to face the front of the classroom, and took out my notebook. I flipped it open to the middle, turned it upside down, and wrote "Chapter 777" in my best cursive. I stared straight ahead and began furiously jotting down notes off the whiteboard at the front of the room. There was nothing written on the whiteboard.
"Hey," Billy said, taking a break from his measurements to inquire about my sudden dilligence. "What are you doing?"
"Shhh, if you keep making noise like that I won't be able to concentrate, and then we'll both fail this course, and they'll bury us in the marsh with the soccer team."
"Settle down chief," he said in the most civil and normal tone he had used yet. "Class doesn't start for another six minutes, and I don't think they even send people to the marsh. Just sports teams who can't play anymore... right?"
"Hm," I pondered as I continued my work, squinting at the empty board to read the small print that didn't exist. Billy looked uneasy and out of ideas. People were filing into the classroom and taking seats around the room, meaning the professor would seen be here to put an end to our cruel games. Then suddenly I saw a smile smear across his face slowly like a cancer spreading right before your eyes.
"Say," he said slyly, leaning towards me, "any chance I could borrow your notes? I blew off the reading last night. It's been tough to focus since the gerbils died."
My notes were mostly full of Caddyshack quotes, along with a detailed drawing of Goofy and Donald Duck curbstomping Buggs Bunny. However to explain this to my nemesis would only prove that I was more sane than he was, and that was precisely how one would go about losing the battle in which we were entwined.
I smiled back politely and said "Sure." I ripped the page out of my note book and handed it to him, and he took it and laid it on his desk so he could examine it. Billy snickered and I became nervous: was he planning on showing everyone the evidence of my insanity which he had provoked? I would be finished. Where was his goddamn ruler now? I couldn't find it, nor could I find his stupid dead gerbils that were probably hidden somewhere under his desk. All evidence of his Socialist views and sure Satanism had disspeared, and there he sat, holding the one document that could put me away for 10 to Life. Billy's laugh began to grow as if it could sense my fear, sending me into a maddening state of anxiety. He pounded his fist several times on the desk for emphasis on the humor of the situation.
Billy rose to his feet still laughing while looking down at my notes on his desk. The growing audience in the room now included our professor, standing in the doorway.
"You won't believe what this idiot did!" Billy said to no one in particular. I was sweating now, I could feel the heat overtaking my body and could hear the asylum doctors making small talk in the hallway as they waited to take me away.
"I'm not even IN this class, and this poor sucker gave me his precious notes!" Billy announced before breaking out in an extreme fit of laughter. Confusion hit me like a folding chair in a wrestling ring.
"Now," my sinister opponent said while looking right at me, "this is mine." With that, Billy stood up, balled my paper up, shoved it into his mouth and began chewing on it. He then collected his own notebook from under his desk (which was clearly marked "Human Biology") and began to walk towards the exit of the room. Just before he reached the door, Billy flipped open his notebook and began to write something. As soon as he finished he turned around to face me and held it up:
"I POISONED THE FUCKING COFFEE"
it said.
I immediately spat out a mouthful of coffee all over my open notebook and formerly clean grey desk. With that, Billy laughed, his mouth still full of paper, and he turned and walked out of the room.
He was the victor that day.
