A Rather Lovely Occurance! (Matt)

[BRANDON JOHNSON]

Ah, a brand, spanking new school year. How lovely it was to receive new things!

Brandon had spent a simply summering smash, smashing summer, rather, drat it all, in the jolly realm of Hereford with his dear parents. He’d certainly been chuffed to bits on many a day, frolicking throughout the fields behind his parents’ house, practicing his Magic and his valiant Dragon-slaying tactics.

He certainly would have enjoyed a bit of rest over the two months of summer, but of course, a prim and proper Brit did not take rest, oh no. Why, a proper Brit took every opportunity that came upon him to exert his valiant prowess, in whatever area it lay. And now, Brandon was returning to the noble realm of the Academy of Baum, chockers full of Magical skills.

Brandon skipped cheerily up the stairs towards his new Room of Dorm, swinging his arms back and forth as proper skipping technique indicated, whistling a merry British shanty. He’d just gotten off of the telephone with his dear friend Lena Winthrop, wishing her the best of the British in her new kingdom, the Barrie University. Oh, but he would miss her terribly!

Still, he hoped that he would find a new friend in this Room Mate, whoever he might be. Brandon had not requested a particular roommate, and wondered who on Earth might be placed with him. Would he perhaps be proficient in the Magical arts? Maybe the two could embark on a wonderful adventure together! That would certainly be gert macky amounts of fun.

Brandon entered the Room of Dorm, setting his belongings down on one of the beds and beginning to unpack his bags. First came his trumpet, which he placed in the left hand corner behind his bed.

Next came his books. He would be participating in the wonderfully prestigious Club of Book this year, and had brought several for the occasion. First came all seven segments of the saga of Sir Harry of Potter, then the three primary books of The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, The Simarillion, The Unfinished Tales, The Adventures of Tom Bombadil, and the twelve volumes of the History of Middle Earth. Brandon had not yet finished the latter, though he hoped against hope that this roommate would sod off rather quickly so that he could do so. Finally came the many volumes of Shakespeare works, plays and sonnets alike, which he would need to work on reciting before presenting to the Club of Book. After all, there were still a few that he was rather shaky on, even when he left the book open to refer to. He opened up Macbeth, mouthing the words as they entered his head, and hoping this Room Mate did not mind spontaneous recitation of Shakespeare at odd hours of the night.

[MATTHEW PETERSON]

In Matt’s professional opinion, everyone ought to have the first day of school off. And the second day, and the third. It made perfect sense—none of that awful “first few days on campus” stuff would have to happen because it could all happen on the first day of school and the second and the third, too, and everyone would be happy because there would be less school to have to go to. The way things were now were positively idiotic. Why the heck would he ever want to drag a whole two suitcases of clothes up to a new dorm room when school didn’t even start for another few days? He’d tried explaining the idea to Addison once. Just once. She’d blinked several times and changed the subject, so he hadn’t brought it up again—if he hadn’t known better, he could have thought she’d assumed him confusing. Which was almost as ridiculous as having school on the first day of school, in Matt’s opinion.

Had he been thinking of much anything besides how much easier pulling suitcases up stairs would be if he’d worn shoes, Matt probably would have been turning over the implications of Barrie’s current moving-in system. As it was, he’d already stubbed his favorite toe (the pinky one) about five times, and didn’t think he could stand dropping another bag on it without it actually popping off and falling down the stairs, right then and there. What he really needed was one of Addison’s special band-aids that looked like tattoos. Stubbed toes always felt better when Spider Man was wrapped around them.

It was with one final heave that Matt jerked his cases up the last stair, completely unaware just how lucky he was they hadn’t burst on the journey up, with how much they were currently bulging out. He sighed, did a hasty wipe of his brow, and continued his lurching waddle down the hallway several times (not being all that concerned with room numbers, he’d walked in on several already-paired roommates) until he came face-to-face with literally the only door in the place he hadn’t tried. This had to be it. He knocked. Without waiting for any sign of recognition, he thrust the door open with a kick.

Back turned to the other figure in the room (a risky move, he was well aware, but he really didn’t think this guy would be any match for him in any sort of battle), Matt dragged his suitcases in after him, quite literally chucking them in the general direction of the only empty bed. One cases landed atop the mattress and another fell beside it. Both sprung open. Matt did nothing. He sat down among of the newfound pile of socks, sheets, and shirts strewn about the bed and began rubbing his pinky toe tenderly, cursing whoever had made those stairs for not having the smartness to make them suitcase-proof.

It was only until about halfway through his non-explicit tirade that Matt even thought to pay attention to the other boy in the room who was, in fact, speaking. And not to him. Odd, as Matt had only ever encountered one person in his life who hadn’t wanted to talk to him before, and that was himself, when he’d decided to play the quiet game with his reflection and won quite painstakingly. This boy, though, he wasn’t speaking to himself, either. He was…why, he was reading! Instantly, Matt sprang to his feet, any and all thoughts about his wounded foot dashed. His roommate loved stories! Why, it simply couldn’t get any better than this, could it?

Having never believed in the myth of personal space, Matt crossed the invisible line dividing the room easily, brown eyes wide with curiosity as his body quivered with excitement. “Whatcha readin’?” he asked easily, head titled almost entirely upside down in an attempt to read the title. He answered his own question. “Maacccbuurt,” he squinted in order to read the shadowed cover, popping back upright with a rather confused look on his face. “Sounds boring. I’m Matt, by the way. I like stories too. But not that kind,” Matt extended a hand over the edge of the book, so that it ended up somewhere considerably closer to the boy’s nose than his own hand, scrunching his face at the way his new roommate’s book was written with numbers and in columns.

[BRANDON JOHNSON]

Brandon glanced up from his book as his new Room Mate advanced up the stairs. ”Greetings!” he called as a hearty greeting as the Room Mate tugged a suitcase into the room. ”Will you be needing a bit of help with that, lad?” A proper Brit must always offer his help, Brandon knew. Still, he supposed that this boy seemed to have a rather good handle on the situation. He did nothing, observing the lad.

He seemed quite a keen, if rather small, lad, with dirty blonde hair and a rather noble countenance. Brandon enjoyd that aspect of a lad. Would this Room Mate perhaps be a Brit, as he was? Brandon had never met another Brit here in The American States of United, and had been dearly looking forward to the day when he would.

“Whatcha readin’?”

”Macbeth,” said Brandon excitedly, flipping a page. ”One of the brilliant and wonderful Shakespeare’s most lovely works! I have read it dozens of times prior, of course, but one can never read a Shakespeare play too many times!”

“Sounds boring. I’m Matt, by the way. I like stories too. But not that kind.”

”Boring? Boring?” Brandon was incredulous. ”Why, you soddy cur! Macbeth is most certainly notboring!” A Shakespeare play being boring! To think! This boy must be off his rocker. ”Shall I read some to you?” He cleared his throat, hoping that a quick recitation would help this boy change his mind. ”When shall we three meet again? In thunder, lightning, or in rain?” he began in a loud, authoritative voice, gesticulating dramatically where appropriate. ”When the hurlyburly’s done? When the battle’s lost and won?”

”What kind of stories, incidentally?” he asked, interrupting himself as his mind processed the second part of the Room Mate’s sentence. ”I’ve got loads here.” He gestured towards his book case. ”Prefer you the epic saga of Sir Harry of Potter? Or the lovely tales of the Ring of the Lords? Lord of the Rings, rather?” If the two of them could read stories together, what a lovely school year this would be!

[MATTHEW PETERSON]

“Machbeth?” Matt quirked a brow, voice hovering somewhere between puzzled and disturbed. “That’s gotta be the dumbest name I’ve never heard.” He was nothing if not brutally honest. “Why the heck would you wanna read onna those more than once?” it was a genuine enough question, for Matt had never quite understood the value of Shakespeare’s works, having never quite understood the wording, either. In his opinion, they were almost as dumb as math books.

He blinked a few times at Brandon, completely and utterly perplexed when the boy went into a rather long rant about hurlysomethingorothers. Whatever they were, chances were they were nothing compared to sword fights. “That’s stupid,” was all he said, honest to the end.

At questions of his own interests, however, Matt instantly perked up, practically bouncing up and down in wait of his turn to answer. It could have just butt in, he knew, but chances were Addison would find out somehow, and then he’d probably get yelled at. Which was never fun.

“Nah, none of those. Harry Potter’s stupid, and the Bobbits are too short,” he stated simply, shaking his head. Granted, he’d never one picked up the Lord of the Rings, or even watched the movies (far too long), but he was certain they were horribly boring. “I like adventure stories. Like Peter Pan—that’s my favorite—or…” he paused, thinking for a moment, “Well, my friend Addie tells really great stories, so I listen to her a lot. They’re better than anything in a book, when she tells ‘em, you know.” Chest puffed out slightly, it was almost as though Matt was bragging about himself, the way he talked about Addison. Although, he supposed it was justified. She was his special storyteller and best friend, after all.