by Mitch Goth
"start-up school". To this day he found that term funny when attached to Antioch. A Civil War era start-up school. The thought brought a subtle, nervous smile to his face.
Abandoned for several years, brought back through the perseverance of the townspeople and the money from unnamed benefactors. Antioch College was quite the sight to see. It wasn't known for much in the more recent years of it's existence, other than always having a famously radical student body. That worried this young man, he'd never met a radical anything before, but now he knew he was about to.
Just then, the student's train of thought was disrupted as a cheerful-looking girl roughly his age wandered up to him. She had a clipboard and pen, obviously on some kind of school business.
"Name?" the girl wondered at him.
"Evan Morgan," the young man replied softly.
"Okay," the girl scribbled something on the clipboard and handed Evan a lanyard with a single key attached. "Here's your room key, two-twelve. Make sure to move your stuff in soon so you don't miss the president's speech."
Before Evan could respond, the girl was gone, off to greet another new student. This left him looking down at his lonely key at the end of the lanyard, and surveying everything thing he had to move in. There wasn't much, a suitcase of clothes, a backpack of notebooks and pens, and a bag for various other possessions he saw necessary to bring to college. His whole world was in his hands and on his back, ready to be set up in a small dorm room. The beginning of his independent life.
Evan wandered into the building and found the elevator. As he waited for it to reach the ground floor, Evan peered around the hall. One direction led into the cafeteria, which was currently devoid of chairs and tables. But a small sign on the wall assured all who read it that the space would be usable soon. As his stomach rumbled, Evan couldn't help but wonder how soon was soon. Down the other direction was a long, shadowy hall that led all the way down to a door out of the building.
Just then, the elevator reached the ground floor. The doors opened slowly, with a high pitched squeak. The interior was small, the floor was covered in torn carpeting that bore a stark contrast to the neutral tile of the hallway. The walls of the elevator were a stained and spotted shade of white. Evan looked at the machine with a grimace.
"It's newly inspected and is completely up to every code," a bubbly voice came from behind him.
Evan turned to see a thin, brown haired woman looking back at him. Her smile was alive and her eyes were joyful. Evan could tell it was all genuine too, not an ounce of this woman's enthusiasm over the elevator was forced.
"How reassuring," he sighed, looking at the nametag she was wearing, "Amanda."
"Sorry," she extended a hand, "Amanda Garfield, assistant to the president."
"Nice to meet you," Evan shook her head half convincingly before stepping into the elevator.
"Are you going to see the president's speech?"
"If I can get unpacked in time."
"I hope to see you there!"
Before the conversation could continue, the doors to the elevator shut and it began it's slow, creaky ascent to the second floor. As he rode, Evan thought over his interaction with Amanda. He felt off about not being more upbeat and social with her. Although he never really was with anyone, he liked to think he tried a little bit sometimes. The elevator dinged as it reached the second floor and Evan just chalked his antisocial behavior to anxiety over the move.
His room was only a few doors down from the elevator. With the horrid sound it made he wasn't sure that was a good thing. One thing he did know was that he would much enjoy the use of the stairwell from now on. As he put his key in the door, he noticed just how new the lock and knob were. It was good to know some things in the building weren't as intimidating as the elevator.
When he entered the room, Evan was pleasantly surprised. Freshly painted in a neutral blue, spotless clean tile, new dressers and wardrobes. The room looked very well kept, as if he were the first one to live in it. It took a moment for Evan to realize that he was, in fact, the first student to live in this renovated room.
As he set all his luggage down, he took note of the rooms duality. Two dressers, two desks, two beds. He obviously had a roommate, which was exactly what he didn't want. Evan recalled being very stern when he filled out the housing papers that he didn't want a roommate. He let out a heavy sigh of disappointment. Just a portion of college he'd have to get used to, he figured.
Continuing his scan of the room, he saw a lack of other belongings. His roommate hadn't made it there yet. He still had a few minutes of solitude left, and he was ready to sit in the room and absorb them for all they were worth.
Just then, Evan looked down and saw something he hadn't seen when he came in. A small piece of paper on the floor. It must've been slid under the door before he arrived. He picked it up and read it. Nothing more than an advertisement for the dinner under the tent on the main lawn and the presidential speech that would take place at that time.
At first, Evan was dismissive of the celebration. A speech from the new college president wasn't worth dealing with a crowd of strangers. Then his stomach rumbled again. He reread the paper. There was a full catered dinner in that tent. This created a scale in his mind that was quickly being swayed from side to side.
"Damn it," Evan groaned finally, dropping the paper to the floor and heading out of his room to head down to the tent.
3
The scene under the tent on the main lawn was a chaotic affair. Every table was quickly filling with either new students, giddy alumni, or members of the meager faculty. Upon seeing the large crowd in the tent, Evan nearly turned back, not wanting to even bother trying. But, in the end, his hunger won out and he forced himself to dive into the liveliness of the crowd.
As fast as he could, Evan collected a large plate of food from the buffet and sat down at the nearest table with a seat still open. He found if he sat the crowds would be easier to deal with. But, after the claustrophobia of standing passed, the social anxiety of sitting down arrived. Evan had sat down at a table filled with new students, all of whom were already acclimated and laughing with each other. Then there was him, the quiet guy trying to fit himself into the furthest corner of a round table.
Instead of trying to get in on the conversations going on at the table, Evan was quaint with sitting back and observing the people he'd chosen to sit with. What a collection of characters he'd picked. The two people sitting directly across from him were deep into what looked like a highly political conversation. A conversation in which they were both on the same side, pandering to the nonexistent opposition. They both dressed similarly too, with colorful beads at the end of their hair, even more colorful smiles on their faces, and baggy, tie-dye shirts. The only discernable between the two were their genders, although the man was the one with the longest hair.
Finding these people highly confusing, Evan turned his attention to the loudest conversation at the table. Two young men were joking and laughing with each other from opposite ends of the table. The one speaking and laughing the loudest seemed to Evan to be exactly the type to be doing so. With groomed yet wind-blown blonde hair, pitch dark sunglasses, and a small dress shirt put sloppily over a white tank top, this guy seemed like the most normal person Evan had seen so far. Normal, in the worst way possible.
While changing his gaze to someone else, Evan's eyes caught onto someone across the tent. She was dressed plainly, rather tomboyish actually, her short brown hair resembled the girl straight ahead of him, only minus the beads. This girl looked strangely like every other person under this tent, but at the same time so very different. She walked with such confidence, she smiled and greeted people as if she'd known them for years. It was something Evan couldn't wrap his mind around. This girl seemed so headstrong and happy in a crowd full of strangers. It was impeccable, just short of impossible. Not even the jokers at his table wore that kind of assured joy. This girl left Evan's head cocked, his mind crowded, puzzled and extremely intrigu
ed.
Just then, a voice came through the tent, immediately grabbing everyone's attention. Evan looked to the podium at the front to see a familiar face behind it. Amanda Garfield was standing, grinning gleefully at the crowd.
"It's so great to see you all here," she said elatedly. "As a local, I've been waiting for years for this school to come back. I think it's safe to say we all knew it would," scattered cheers came from the crowd, "Well, now we're all here again. We're all so happy and so proud to see Antioch back on it's feet again. And its with so much joy that we welcome the newest class to Antioch and to the great village of Yellow Springs," more cheers came. "Now, I could go on for days about how happy I am," she laughed, "but I'm up here to introduce someone very important. So, I'd like to introduce you all to Antioch's new president, Wes Harding!"
Amanda stepped away from the podium as the crowd came alive with applause. A tall, statuesque man clad in a fine tailored three-piece suit approached the podium. Evan immediately noticed this man's graying hair. At first he saw it as a sign of weariness and weakness, but that thought quickly faded. This man's hair was grayed in such a way as to seem almost marbled, undeniably elegant. He oozed an aura of power and control. Evan wanted badly to find a fault in his new president's exterior,
