[center][h3]November 29th - Morning[/h3][/center]


Barney’s eyes snapped open, his body shocked awake by the impact of realization that struck him with the weight of a freight train. “Oh no. Nono.” He felt a little too well rested; a slight soreness afflicted his head at the point where it lay against the pillow. That sunlight peeking through the cheap blinds of his dorm room looked a little too bright. Like a snake his arm lunged out from beneath his cover to snatch the phone from the desk beside his bed. He didn’t need his glasses to see the time on display and confirm the impulsive fear that had seized him. “No no no, dang it!” He’d slept through his alarm. He was late. Again.

Even as his heart sank, his body leaped into action. Barney hurled himself out of bed, scooped up his little basket with soap and shampoo, grabbed a reasonably fresh set of clothes from the closet, and made a beeline for the communal bathroom and its showers. Since he couldn’t wait for it to warm up he had to shiver through a brisk wash before pulling on his clothes and booking it back to his room. No time for breakfast, which sucked but at least it wasn’t the first time. Just folders, notebook, pencils, laptop, all in the backpack, shoes on, and run for it. His wet hair in the chilly air of an overcast November morning just about froze his scalp, but the anger and embarrassment of his repeated mistake stung him a whole lot more.

“I’m so dead,” he moaned as he hastened toward the lecture hall as fast as he could. If he couldn’t cut it in the first and easiest semester of college, he wasn’t going to cut it, period. All that debt incurred for nothing--his hopes of finding a better future, squandered. “That’s just it. I’m dead. Dead for sure. Woodward’s not gonna let it slide again.” Not after Barney forgot to bring his laptop to the semester’s first test. No matter how much he wanted to blame it on his manager insisting he close the night before, no amount of excuses would have saved him. Only the grace of Professor Ed Woodward, who let him run back to get his computer. He’d been allowed to both start and end the test late, but doing well on it was another story. That episode put his already struggling grade in the class in jeopardy, and Barney got the sinking feeling that Rockwell wouldn’t give him a third chance.

It wasn’t fair. Between studying for this very test and work he’d barely gotten to actually relax on Thanksgiving Break at all. At least he figured he’d be prepared for the test the day after, but of course, leave it to Barney Rynsburger to mess things up right at the end. [i]Screw me for at least wanting to go out to eat a Thanksgiving dinner with my friends, huh?[/i] He, Matt, and Felipe ended up reaching for one too many beers. Barney didn’t even remember how he got back to the college. Felipe’s girlfriend Maria, probably. [i]At least I don’t have to deal with her.[/i] Still, that wasn’t a lot of comfort for the dead.

The building loomed ahead of him, but as Barney drew near he came to a breathless stop. He was half an hour late; he had no chance in hell. Why go in there and just sit in the middle of all the test-takers, unable to do anything, and be tortured by his failure? If he was dead, he might as well rest in peace, at least for a little while. Hanging his head, Barney turned around and trundled back down the hill toward the student center in the middle of campus. He could grab a coffee and a donut from the built-in cafe and find a cozy couch to sink into for the rest of time. After suppressing his look of anguish so that nobody would see him like this he pushed inside.

A few minutes later Barney had achieved his resting place. Even with first period in session the student center was pretty full. Everywhere he looked he saw clusters of eighteen and nineteen years olds, chatting, catching up, complaining, and so on, many with the sort of excitement only freshmen could possess. Because everybody had somebody, though, that left a vacancy in front of the TV where a guy by himself could take a seat. Barney heaved a sigh and stared listlessly up at the news.

“...Indicate this incident to be just the latest in the string of so-called protests against alleged police corruption turning violent in recent months,” the host was saying. “Furthermore, our correspondents on site interviewed a number of eyewitnesses who claim to have seen Sofia Kucharski in the vicinity.” An image flashed on screen of a [url=https://i.imgur.com/QbGOqBc.png]blonde woman[/url] in a green overcoat. “Kucharski, a self-identified anarchist and longtime anti-police agitator, is a convicted felon released from a prison sentence only a few years ago. Since then accusations of seditious activities and conspiracies continue to pile at her feet. At this time her involvement cannot be confirmed, but if this spate of civil unrest is indeed her handiwork as suspected, there could be even more dire incidents yet to come. We turn now to Barclay’s own police commissioner Maurice McCord for comment.”

The news station transitioned to a shot at the front of the BPD building, situated on its idyllic peninsula on the waterfront. Front and center was the commissioner himself, who with his white suit, old-fashioned gold star, and ten-gallon hat looked every inch the southern [url=https://i.imgur.com/n8yL8Zq.png]gentleman sheriff[/url] he clearly sought to be. “First thing I wanna do is set your minds at ease. All these rumors y’all been hearin? ‘Bout corruption ‘n whatnot? Nothin’ but heinous slander! There ain’t a police department in the nation more open ‘n carin’ than we are. Why, just look around ‘n see fer yerself! Watchin’ out for folks--that’s our motto.” His wide, reassuring smile turned serious, his look concerned. “But this Kuth...ah, Kucharski lady? She’s bad news, lemme tell ya. I know ‘cause I’m the one who put ‘er away in the first place. She’s the type who’s willin’ to take advantage of people, stir up trouble, get poor folks hurt, then sit back ‘n let others take the fall. The reason she’s doin’ this -the one and only reason- is for revenge. So to the good citizens of this fair city, please: if ya see any trouble brewin’, just stay calm, keep clear, ‘n call the police. If ya bring in info that ‘elps lead to ‘er capture, we’ll even reward ya. So help us help yew stay safe. God bless.”

After that the segment changed, and Barney’s attention drifted away. He heard some people sit down behind him. One girl exhaled heavily, saying, “Guh! There’s still SO many people everywhere. It’s seriously nuts. Back in August I thought it was just, like, a bunch of kids visiting from all the high schools or something. I’m so sick of waiting in line for coffee.”

Her friend finished a long sip of her own drink, smacking her lips before replying. “I mean, Pondwater did say it was a record-breaking freshman class back at the first assembly. He was really proud about it, too. Kept going on and on about recruiters this and outreach that. Must be raking it in.”

The first girl snickered. “You know, I can’t get over his name being Pondwater in the first place. It’s just so perfect. He looks like a bullfrog, stuffed in that disgusting brown suit of his.”

“I know, right?”

Barney knew he shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but he didn’t have the energy to distract himself as the girls continued. “Anyway, did you hear about Kirsty? It happened AGAIN!”

Her friend sounded a lot more annoyed than surprised. “What else is new? With her looks, she’s always gonna have guys swarming all over her, and if she can’t pick ‘em...well, serves that bimbo right. It’s like winning the lottery and dropping the ticket on the way to cash it in.”

Barney allowed their conversation to drift away as his thoughts turned inward, a displeased look on his face. Even as a freshman he recognized the name they mentioned. In fact, he’d be surprised if anyone could go a semester at BWU without hearing about her. Kirsty Shishani, the beautiful but ditzy sophomore cursed with terrible luck in love. It seemed like her blunders through the world of romance were practically a spectator sport at this point. No matter who she ended up with or how well things seemed to be going, things would eventually turn sour. The guy would turn out to be a creep or jerk of some stripe. Two guys had even been expelled for sexual harassment. And of course, the minute she was single again someone else would swoop in to fill the void, and it’d happen all over again. Barney’s heart went out to the poor girl. He’d seen her a couple times around the school, and rumors really didn’t do her justice. Drop-dead gorgeous, terribly friendly and kind-hearted, always quick with a smile, never picky or prideful. It was easy to understand why guys went nuts over her, and why girls hated her guts. Bright or not, she didn’t deserve all the misfortune that befell her. She was way out of his league, but Barney felt sure that if he got a shot, he could make her happy. And considering some of the guys she did get with, maybe she’d give him a chance after all?

Barney shook his head and busied himself with his coffee. [i]What am I thinking?[/i] He was a dead man walking. He had no future, least of all one with a girl like Kirsty. Soon he’d be out of here, with nothing gained from BWU but debt, probably unable to keep providing for his family. Nobody would ever know he’d been there. Nobody would remember he was gone. He groaned, and attempted to sink deeper into his chair.