Cottagecore: Road Trip - Dan

Cottagecore: Road Trip Chapter 11 -- Zoom

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While I waited for the belt to arrive, I spent some time making plans for A. Ham.

Before I'd left, the school had sent a link to the course catalogue, which listed all the classes available to A. Ham. undergrads. The catalogue included course schedules, prerequisites, labs, and professors.

I'd read the catalogue top to bottom many times and made long lists of classes I'd like to take. I researched professors, wrote out possible schedules, and even started planning my second semester.

Fortunately or unfortunately, there were dozens of classes I wanted to take. Some conflicted, some required prerequisites, and still others seemed too frivolous for me to take at A. Ham. As much as I loved photography, could I really justify using a course slot for a hobby?

I checked the most recent catalogue updates while I waited in Columbus. They didn't help to clarify my plans. In fact, a few new classes were added that I wanted to take so I was even less certain confused than when I started.

Finally, threw up my hands at trying to set a schedule. I knew the first two weeks of classes would be offered open enrollment, called Exploratory Period, when I could attend class without committing to sign up. I'd just have to go to as many classes as I could and decide what I liked the most.

When I couldn't think about my schedule, I turned my focus to my roommates.

I wondered why I hadn't heard anything about my living situation. My admittance packet said that I would be assigned to one of A. Ham.'s Great Houses over the summer. I'd live in a suite in the First Year Dorm with all other A. Ham. Firsties this year, and then spend the next three years living in my House.

The admission materials stated that in July, all the First Years would receive a letter introducing us to our Houses and roommates. When I checked in from Columbus, though, my parents said I hadn't received anything from the university. My email was also empty. Yes, of course I checked my spam.

After a morning on the phone with the A. Ham. Admissions and Dean's Offices, I learned that none of the housing correspondence had been sent to me. Or maybe it was sent, but to a wrong address. Whatever the case, the Dean's Office staffer said, she was very sorry. She forwarded my the introductory email my suitemates had received a few weeks earlier, which included their names, home addresses, emails, and phone numbers.

I was a little nervous, to be honest. I'd been using my trip as a distraction from the start of school. I wasn't really avoiding thinking about A. Ham., but I wasn't focused on it either. It didn't get much more real than meeting my roommates for the first time, at least not until I arrived on campus.

I typed out a quick introductory email. "Hey guys," I wrote, "I'm Jon McGee, one of your suitemates this year. Apologies for the delay in getting in touch, the Dean's Office messed up my contact information so I just got your names and contact info. I'll be on the road between now and the start of orientation, but I'll be sure to write back as soon as I can. Here's to a great First Year."

Almost right away I got an reply-all back from Justin Lee of Bryn Mawr, Pennsylvania. "Hi Jon, great to finally meet you. We were starting to wonder where you were. Good to finally touch base. I've pasted below the dial-in for a video conference we have scheduled for tomorrow. The other guys and I have already talked once, so it'll be great if you can join us. I look forward to saying hi."

The next reply, which came in while I was reading Justin's email, was much less friendly.

"Well, well," wrote Allen Aaronson of Medina, Washington, in his -reply-all, "how good of you finally to check in. We've had to hold off holding off making plans for the suite to see if you could get yourself sorted out. We were about to make plans without you. I suppose we'll see what you can contribute if you manage to join us tomorrow."

Christ, I thought, what an asshole. That was the first impression he wanted?

Evan Davies of Cary, North Carolina, forwarded Allen's message to me only. "Jon, good to hear from you," he wrote. "I'm not sure what Allen's going on about. The suite's mostly settled. Don't worry about it. Long in tomorrow if you can, otherwise we'll see you in New York. Very excited!"

The final reply came from Tucker Williams Higginbotham, of Grosse Point, Michigan: "Thx. Look forward to meeting. Q-Tee."

The cell coverage at the mall was terrible, so the next morning, I rode out to the bluffs above the rive and found a quiet spot to do the call. Coverage was good and it was remote enough that I probably wouldn't bother anybody. I thought I'd made good plans, but not everything went as I'd hoped.

I was about ten minutes late to join, after my laptop spun through some software updates that seemed to take forever. Maybe I should have logged onto the laptop more often instead of relying on my phone all summer.

I couldn't catch the thread of the conversation at first, which ground to a halt in any event once I joined.

". . . someone else is joining," I heard, before the video stabilized. "Jon? The elusive Jonathan McGee?"

I waived awkwardly and spoke into the pause that followed.

"Hey guys, yeah, I'm Jon, sorry I'm late. It took me a couple of minutes to get logged in. Sorry to have missed anything."

My screen showed five guys, but two of the guys were together in one window, which surprised me. Roommates were supposed to be randomly assigned so why were two of my roomies already together before the start of school?

They were all handsome. Really handsome.

Justin relaxed on his bed. His large black eyes twinkled, which combined with a resting smile-face made him seem friendly. His warmth was offset a little by his striking good looks. He could be a model, his cheekbones and chin looked sharp enough to cut glass. I guessed that he was around 6 feet. He leaned against a wall of pillows, with posters tacked to the wall behind him. I couldn't see if they were bands or sports teams or what.

Allen looked like an all-American jock, with a strong jaw, lots of curly dark blond hair, and blue eyes. He had broad-shoulders and a long face, which made me think he was on the tall side. He was sitting at a desk in a room flooded with natural light, with lots of blond wood. I could see conifers and water out the window in his background.

The screen name for the two guys was "Q-Tee" so one of them had to be Tucker, who I guess went by Tee. Since Evan was in the last window, the other guy with Tee had to be Quiddity Armstrong Prescott V, of Great Falls, Virginia.

"I'm Q," confirmed the honey blond, "short for 'Quiddity,'" he said with a sniff. "A family name." He waved his hand in dismissal. "Or Q for 'Quint' since I'm the fifth of my name." He had elaborately styled hair, deep blue eyes and a slightly dreamy expression on his face. Or maybe haughty. It looked to me like he was wearing very subtle makeup, but I wasn't sure.

"And I'm Tee," smiled the other. He was a muscular African American guy, shorter than 6 feet if I had to guess. His skin was the color of black coffee and his eyes were like liquid, warm and curious. He seemed easy to smile and had a thoughtful look on his face.

Both Q and Tee were dressed in expensive looking clothes with no brands visible. Collared shirts made from natural fabrics tucked into belted trousers, as opposed to the rest of us, who were dressed more casually. Hell, I'd taken my shirt off because it was so hot and humid. Old money, my grandmother would say of Q and Tee, and she was usually right about things like that.

"We've been together for three years," said Q, squeezing Tee's hand.

Tee added, "we're a package deal."

I couldn't get over Q's mannerisms. He spoke with an exaggerated, languid drawl, so affected that it had to be an act. It's hard to get onto paper, but when he introduced himself, he drew the word 'Q' out for more than a second, and he added sounds to some words.

"Name" came out "name-uh," "years" came out "years-uh." It was a lot to take in.

I caught the reflection of a ring light in Tee's glasses, but couldn't tell much more about their surroundings. They were framed perfectly so their faces and torsos filled the entire screen.

"Hey there," said Tee easily. He was wearing a sheer pale blue linen shirt that hugged his well-defined chest and arms. I'm no expert but his watch looked expensive, as much jewelry as timepiece. "Maybe you've seen our socials? We're Q-Tee, 'Cutie,' get it?"

Gag, get it? I thought, but kept my face neutral.

"I don't really do social media," I said like I was apologizing. What else could I say? "Glad to meet you," I added.

Evan had dark brown hair, close to black, cut short and spiky. His large green eyes were framed with pointed eyebrows and long eye lashes that makeup models would envy. A spray of freckles ran across his cheeks and nose.

Evan's face brightened when he saw my screen pop up and said something behind a muted mike. He laughed at himself and tried to speak again, but Allen cut over him.

"Well," said Allen with a little wrinkle of his nose, "so good of you to join us. We were beginning to think that Jonathan McGee wasn't really coming to the Alexander Hamilton University."

"Just Jon," I said.

"Or maybe you didn't exist at all," said Q in a languid drawl.

Or MAY-be you din't egg-ZIS-tuh at-TALL-uh.

Tee added, "we haven't been able to find your socials anywhere." He sounded equal parts surprised and confused, like not being on social media was simply impossible.

Q sniffed. "Although if you really don't 'do' socials I guess that explains a lot." It felt like he might be sort of exhausting.

"Yeah, we don't have much access to the internet at home so I never really got hooked. Social media just seemed like sort of a time suck, you know?" I asked. "More trouble than they're worth."

"Tee and I are influencers," said Q. It felt like a rebuke, if a mild one.

"Almost five million followers across the platforms," added Tee.

"I don't think anybody at Alexander Hamilton has more followers than you ," said Allen like he had a stake in the game. "At least, no students do."

"Our earnings are in the six figures," added Q, "and we haven't even really tried to monetize. But wait a moment, what do you mean you don't have internet at home. Everybody has internet at home."

"Not me," I said. The presumption of this guy. "I grew up next to a couple of national parks, up in the mountains, so we don't have cell coverage, and we live too far from town to get high speed internet at home. We have satellite access, but it's slow and expensive so I usually don't bother."

"That sounds . . . barbaric," said Q. It wasn't clear to me if he was joking, but Tee's smile made me think he was, at least in part.

"It wasn't so bad," I said with a shrug, "especially since I got to grow up where I did. I'd just stay late at school or go to a friend's house if I needed the internet. It wasn't really a big deal to me."

"But what did you do?" asked Tee.

"For fun, you mean?" I asked. "Lots of stuff outdoors. In the summer, cycling, rock climbing, hiking and backpacking, swimming in the river. Some kayaking, but I don't own my own gear. Winter it's more limited, but skiing, snow shoes, bouldering, skating if it gets really cold. We have community dances at the Grange or Stompers Hall most weekends. I read a lot, take some pictures."

"That sounds like Josiah Adams," said Q, "but even he has internet."

"Or that guy from Canada," said Tee. "Brandon? Brendan?"

"Brennan. Brennan Doyle." said Justin. Tee and Q nodded.

"I don't know who they are," I said, trying to keep it light.

"YouTube guys," said Justin. "Or TikTok. Outdoorsy social media guys, right?"

"Not as many followers as us," said Q, "but they lead their category. Homesteaders and home schoolers and 'living wild' as they say." He shuddered.

I grinned, trying to be good natured while they tried to make sense of me. "I guess you don't do much camping?" I asked.

"Well," said Q, "we spend winter breaks at Deer Valley. The skiing is world class."

"And apres is even better," added Tee.

"I don't ski much downhill any more," I said, never having been to Deer Valley or experienced anything resembling "apres ski." "By the time I was in high school, I was mostly just skiing cross county. A little back country when I could find a group, but I had to borrow gear so that less often."

"Will you ski for A. Ham., do you think?" asked Allen.

"I hadn't thought of it," I said. "I'm not really into competitive sports. I just ski because I like to be outdoors."

"Do you still cycle?" Evan said. "Mountain or road?"

"Both," I said. "Do you ride? I brought my bikes but I don't think I'll get much time on either if the weather's as bad as they say."

"I ride my mountain bike with my brother," said Evan. "I hadn't planned to, but maybe I'll bring mine and we can join the club team."

"I've never competed," I shrugged. "I just like to ride."

Evan nodded. With a smirk, he changed the subject. "With no internet at home, that means no porn, right? How'd you get by?"

I laughed. "I did okay before, but I've made up for lost time since I left home."

Allen rolled his eyes conspicuously.

Justin jumped in quickly. "I don't do much social media either," he said. He was pretty clearly trying to change the subject "We're just glad to connect with you, Jon. Or I am, at least," he added, given Allen's scowl.

"What happened?" said Evan. "A. Ham. is supposed to be good at stuff like this."

I started to answer but Allen spoke over me. "The Alexander Hamilton University is good at 'stuff like this,'" he said, adding air quotes with his fingers, just in case anybody missed his chiding. "My brother is going to be a senior, I've never heard of anything like this happening."

I shrugged. "They said they had a database integration error between the Admission Office's server and the Dean's Office's stack, which I guess was new this year. A couple of dozen of us were affected. From the Early Admissions list. Honestly, I didn't dig in once they said it was straightened out. I didn't realize it was going to be a big deal."

"I didn't say it was a 'big deal'," said Allen. This time the air quotes were just verbal. "It just seemed really . . . sloppy on your part."

I saw Evan and Justin raise eyebrows and shift their gazes to look at Allen. Tee squeezed Q's hand but they didn't say anything.

"Hmm," I said with a little impatience and a dismissive shrug. "Well, again, sorry if it seemed rude. I don't think the Dean's Office's server error should reflect much on me, but whatever. They said it should all be fixed."

Allen seemed ready to argue another round but I just spoke over him. "I've added my real contact info in the chat. Can somebody forward me the emails Allen mentioned? I'll get caught up over the next few days."

Allen just kept going. "We couldn't even figure out who would be responsible for bringing what for the suite."

"M-hm," I said evenly. "You put that in the email yesterday." I was trying not to engage, but Allen seemed like he was trying to have an argument.

"Come on, Allen," said Tee reasonably, "that's mostly settled just by convenience. Q and I already have the couches and the rest of the furniture for the common room from our dorm at Duxbury. Evan's bringing the TV. Justin had a fridge and his DJ stuff in case we have parties. What else is there?"

Allen seemed stumped so I jumped in. "I was planning to get a coffee maker or espresso machine," I said. "I also have other kitchen stuff I've used this summer-an induction burner, electric pressure cooker, stuff like that."

Before I could add "not that we'll be doing much cooking in the suite," Allen said sarcastically, "we do have dining halls, you know." He went on haughtily, "Anyway, I'll supply the espresso machine. I'm from Seattle and we take our coffee seriously."

Evan texted me: "He take himself too srsly." I laughed in reply and sent him a thumbs-up emoji.

"It sounds like most everything is handled then," I said. "Or is there something else, Allen?"

"Not really," he said breezily, acting like his outbursts had never happened. "I just wanted the suite settled."

I was almost ready to let the argument go, but not quite.

"Oh, okay," I said. "You were so worked up. Are you sure there wasn't anything else?"

"Look," Allen said, "I just want thing to go smoothly. I like it when thigs work like they should."

"Sure," I said, "me too. It just seems like you're still blaming me for the Dean's Office's mistake. I get that you were irritated with me before you knew what was going on, but it feels like you haven't really dropped it."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Allen said with some heat. Offense--or at least, being offended--is a good defense, I guess. "We were all inconvenienced, of course it was irritating."

"So write the Dean a stern email, Allen" said Evan with a little exasperation.

"Look," said Allen, changing his tone, "I just want the year to go smoothly. This is all past history, let's just drop it."

"Fine with me," I said. "We've already spent too much time on it, if you ask me." I had my doubts that Allen was done with it, but I also saw that he didn't like to be pushed.

"I think I mentioned," said Allen, "my brother is at Alexander Hamilton already. If I can help out, just let me know. I'm sure I can answer most questions if you have any."

Justin jumped in. "Thanks, Mate, but hold up on that for a second. Jon, we spent the first call making introductions. You know, background stuff, interests, majors, that sort of thing. We don't know anything about you."

"Well," I said with a grin and a goofy wave, "Hi, I'm Jon."

Allen sighed heavily.

"I grew up just outside King's Canyon and Sequoia National Parks in Central California. My house was in the middle of the woods. My interviewer said my high school was one of the smallest of our year at A. Ham. Only fifty-three of us graduated. I've spent most of the summer driving alone cross country. By the time I'm at H. Ham I'll have visited something like 20 states and driven more than 6,000 miles. I'm spending the next week at the beach somewhere to relax before school starts."

"'Somewhere' at the beach?" said Tee, confused. "Where? What do you mean?"

"I'm not sure yet. Going to the beach was a change of plans. I was going to be in Michigan before the start of the A. Ham. backpacking orientation trip, but the floods up north changed all that. So I'm going to find a hotel or campsite at the beach somewhere and settle in until they open the dorms. I can always sleep in my truck but that's getting old."

"But which beach?" pressed Justin.

"I don't know," I said with a shrug. "Maybe probably between Maryland and Virginia. Delaware looks good, but a little farther to drive. I don't want to go much further south since I'll just have to drive back north, and Cape Cod seems like it'd be booked solid."

"Jersey?" said Justin. "We get over to the Shore during the summer."

"Is there camping?" I said. "I figure I'll be lucky to find a hotel this late."

"Maybe not," said Justin. "My parents always book the house way out, like before Spring Break."

"But where will you stay?" asked Tee, baffled. "You're just going to drive to the beach and camp somewhere? How does that even work?"

"Camp, or sleep in my truck if I can't find a camp site," I said. It seemed obvious to me, but they were not getting it at all.

"What do you mean, 'sleep in your truck?'" said Q.

I explained how I'd been using my truck as a camper since I left California.

"Like a homeless person?" asked Allen. "A hobo?"

I shrugged. "I know there are van life influencers out here. Like them, but without the TikTok or whatever," I said.

"I cannot imagine sleeping in a truck," said Q to nobody in particular. "Or on the ground, for that matter." He sighed heavily like even the thought of it was too much to bear.

"It can get a little rough depending on the weather," I admitted, "but it's a great way to get around. It's been a great adventure."

"It sounds okay to me," said Evan. "A little lonely maybe but so much freedom."

"I could do with a little less freedom right now," I said with what I hoped was a wry smile. "I'm stuck in Ohio because my truck broke down. I've been living in a mall parking lot while I wait for the belt to get shipped in. It's getting old."

"Oh my god," said Allen, "you really are homeless. Why don't you just get the truck fixed at the dealership, stay at a hotel."

I decided to play it up a little. If my choices were to be annoyed with Allen or annoy him, I'd go with the fun option.

"Well," I said, "staying at the mall isn't so bad. It's air conditioned, and there's a food court."

"What about a bathroom? A shower?" asked Q like he was watching a car crash.

I decided not to tell them about my Gatorade bottle pissoir. "I can use the mall's bathroom, and I've showered at a gym in the complex."

"But why," Allen asked again, as if I hadn't explained myself already.

I shrugged again. "I just like to do my own work when I can," I lied. "I could have had the truck towed to a mechanic and stayed in a hotel room, I guess, but it just seemed like a waste of money. You know? The belt should get here in a day or two and I can fix it up pretty fast and get back on the road."

Evan smiled. "My Grandpa Jim would love this. He can't believe that I'm going to major in engineering but can't change a flat tire."

I laughed. "I'll show you how when we get to school," I said, enjoying the looks I was getting from the other suitemates, something between shock and confusion. "My dad runs a mechanic's shop and he's taught me the basics." For the time being, they didn't know that I had no actual interest in "the basics"-or any automotive repair work, actually.

"Um," said Allen, hesitant like he was broaching a difficult subject, "you know we're in the gay section of the Firsty dorm, right? Are you going to be okay with that?"

I laughed again. "I can't camp and be gay? There are no gay hobos? No auto gays? Come on, guys." I showed my exasperation show a little.

Justin fumbled with his computer, muting it and then typing quickly. He sent a group chat: "I'm not out at home. CHILL PLZ."

I gave his comment a quick "like" and plowed on. "I'll probably major in history or biology, or maybe try to combine the two. Not like the history of biology. I know A. Ham. has a history of medicine discipline I could use as a model. More like, using biology to explain history? I'm still working on my class list," I admitted.

"I'll be taking intro Bio this year," said Evan, picking up that I was trying to redirect the call for Justin's benefit. "I'll be an Engineering major but I'm interested in climate change and energy. I haven't decided whether to focus on chemical engineering or mechanical or electrical or what."

"I'll probably take Bio too," said Justin, with a thumb's up of thanks. "I'm leaning premed but haven't settled on that or Finance. It'll drive my parents crazy."

"Alexander Hamiliton the best Finance and Applied Economics programs in the world," said Allen, "as well as top-flight premed program. Are your parents insane?"

Justin gave a thin smile. "After my grandparents immigrated, they were really strict about what my parents could study in college. On both sides, the only real options were doctor or lawyer. Maybe they had a few other paths, but they had to use their educations for money and prestige. My parents want me to do something wild, impractical, artsy."

Evan laughed at the irony. "So you're rebelling by studying medicine or economics. What a world."

The other guys looked on like Justin was from Mars. I thought it was funny.

"Maybe we can coordinate schedules," I said. "It might help if we're in the same class."

"Do you think you'll need help?" sniffed Allen. "I'm not looking to carry anybody, personally."

Before I could say anything, Evan said, "that sounds great, let's try to make it work. Most Bio sections start early-we can make sure we get to class on time."

"Count me in," said Justin quickly. "It will be fun to have classes together."

I asked Q and Tee, "what about you guys? What are your majors, if you know?"

Tee answered first. "Finance with an emphasis on math and comp sci. I might flip it to applied math with a finance emphasis, but I can decide that later, the classes will be the same first year."

Q said slowly, thoughtfully, "I plan to study beauty. Art history. Poetry. Literature. Classical language. Music. Things that elevate me, bring me joy." It sounded ethereal and practiced at the same time.

Get a load of this guy, I thought.

"My parents would love you," said Justin with a smirk.

"What about architecture, Q?" I asked. "I've got Daniel Yamamoto's class on my short list for the Spring."

"Of course you do," muttered Allen. I ignored the jibe, since I wasn't sure what he was talking about.

"Architecture is a little concrete for my tastes," Q said in a deadpan over Allen's remark.

Allen groaned conspicuously, to make sure we all caught that he had heard the pun. He tried to say something about "pouring over the catalogue to build a schedule" but Q didn't give him the chance.

"I've heard good things about Yamamoto. We'll consider it," he added, like he and Tee were granting me a favor.

"What about you, Allen," I asked. "Do you have a major picked out?" He'd already made me not care particularly, but I figured I should make an effort to be civil if we were going to have to live together.

"English Literature," he answered crisply. "I'm not sure of the period just yet. Maybe Edwardian, maybe the Inter-War period, it's all quite fascinating."

"Is it?" asked Evan doubtfully.

"So nobody's signed up for Integrated Studies?" I said. "I'm interested, but my application wasn't selected. I'm planning to talk with my advisor when we get to campus."

Allen rolled his eyes. "Good luck with that," he said. "I thought about I.S. but since I plan to minor in music, there just isn't room in my schedule. Do any of you play an instrument? Cello is my primary. I'm not sure whether I'll focus on composition or performance."

"Piano," said Q and Tee on top of each other.

"Yes, me too," said Allen.

"Saxophone's my primary instrument," said Justin. "Well, piano when I was younger, then saxophone when I started middle school."

Evan didn't say anything and neither did I. My school was well known in California for its ukulele orchestra. We started playing in elementary school and continued through high school. It was silly and fun, but we took it seriously. We'd played the national anthem at Dodgers and A's games and marched in the Rose Parade. Still, I didn't want to give Allen the chance to say something nasty, which I thought he might.

The guys chatted for a bit about music. Eventually the talk turned back to classes.

"Don't bother with those Great Courses," said Allen dismissively. "My brother said they're all hype. Nobody takes them seriously."

We all started talking at once. The courses sounded fantastic, plus at the Spring Orientation, there had been a lot of talk about the "campus cohesion" the Great Courses brought to A. Ham. The presenter said that most students tried to take a Great Course every semester. They were supposed to help create a shared culture on a campus where specialization was the norm.

Allen backed down a little when we all challenged him. "All I'm saying is that grad schools and employers know the Great Courses are easy A's. Take too many and you'd be a laughingstock. Your GPA will be a joke."

"I hadn't heard that," I said. "Too bad, if it's true. A lot of those courses sound great."

"What do you mean, 'if it's true?'" Allen bristled. "I just told you it's what my brother said."

"What did I say" asked a voice from out of Allen's video screen. Allen pursed his lips.

"We were just talking about the Great Courses," Evan said.

A face that had to be Allen's brother shoved into the view window.

"Fellas!" he boomed, "welcome to A. Ham. I'm Chris, Allen's big brother. I'm here to correct all the lies Allen's been telling in my name," he said jovially.

We laughed. Chris was even more handsome than Allen, with a bigger personality and considerably more charm.

"Allen told us you think the Great Courses are a joke, that we shouldn't take them," Evan said

"What?" said Chris incredulously. "They're amazing, at least most of them." Turning to Allen he asked, "what are you on about, then?"

Allen looked angry. "Chris, you know you called them jokes, easy A's, GPA padding. That's all I was saying."

"That's not what I said," Chris said, suddenly serious. "If you take too many Great Courses, or your classes are all over the place, you might be seen as a Dabbler. That's a pretty bad insult at A. Ham., you know, somebody who never settles into a serious academic lane. But that's where my criticism stops."

"So you don't think there's anything wrong with the Great Courses?" asked Tee.

Chris disappeared from the frame for a second before reappearing dragging a chair. "Sit back, boys, and listen to your old Uncle Chris." He said. "The Great Courses are pretty much the only chance I have to take classes with most of my friends. Take as many as you can, so long as you don't Dabble."

"We were just talking about Yamamoto's architecture course," said Justin.

"I haven't taken it but he's a legend. I've thought about adding it this year just for the experience. Civilians come to campus to audit his lectures. Even if you don't give a shit about buildings, I've heard it'll change the way you look at your 'lived environment' as he calls it. On our Spring Tour, the guys who'd taken Yamamato couldn't stop talking about the facades and corbels and materiality."

"Civilians?" I asked. "Spring Tour?"

Chris laughed. "You Firsties have so much to learn. 'Civilians' is A. Ham. language for campus visitors. School can get insular. Outsiders stand out pretty quickly."

Allen was fuming but I was here for it.

"And Spring Tour was our trip through Florida with the Tom Cats over break," Chris went on with a broad smile.

"Anything else you'd recommend?" I asked. "I have a list of the classes I was looking at . . . ."

"Hold your horses, Babe," said Chris.

"Don't call my roommates 'Babe'" muttered Allen.

Chris continued to ignore Allen. "Don't worry about classes too much just yet. Just get a feel for basics, you know? Do you have required classes, like a language, and what A. Ham. prerequisites do you want to knock out your first year, that sort of thing."

We nodded along. "Then go wild," Chris said. "Read the course catalog and make a list with all the stuff that sounds fun, interesting, weird. Share your lists, compare ideas. Have fun with it."

Was this guy really crabby, uptight Allen's brother?

Chris went on. "You'll each meet with your academic advisor before classes start. They'll have a lot more ideas for both programs and specific classes."

"That sounds super helpful," said Justin. I forgot about the advisor meeting. The day before, the Dean's Office had made sure I knew it had been scheduled and I was required to attend.

Chris nodded while Allen scowled. "You'll also have your college's Dean and its Members. 'Members' used to be called 'Fellows' but they're nearly half women now. They'll all give advice, maybe more than you ask for if you're not careful. And of course, the House ghosts."

"What now?" said Evan. "Ghosts?"

"Well," said Chris like he was talking to small children, "we couldn't leave all the fun to Hogwarts."

"Chris," said Allen, "nobody cares about Harry Potter."

"Your Quidditch Captain will be so disappointed," said Chris. "So will your Resident Advisor. He'll be a senior in your House who lives on your floor in the Firsty dorm and can help you with the day-to-day. Then there's your House's Peers, other Upperclass people, and of course yours truly. I'll be sure to stop by to say hi in person once we're all on campus, at least if Allen doesn't murder me before then. Such a glare, dear brother!"

We all laughed, other than Allen. "No, my dear boys, just get to know each other. You will have plenty of time to figure out classes soon enough. It'll be easy to get swallowed up by academics, especially in your first semester. Build your friendships now, find ways to look out for each other. You can all do the work, but worry about that later."

"Well," sniffed Allen, "as I recall, you got mostly B's in your first semester."

"Listen to me or don't, little brother, it's entirely your choice. But the reason I got those B's is because I tried to do it alone. My grades improved when I started taking classes, and studying, with my friends."

Allen and Chris started to squabble, so I muted my mic and replied to Evan's text. "Was Allen like this on the first call?" I was taking a chance to single out Allen to Evan, but I got the sense Allen's attitude irritated Evan as much as me.

"Less so, but yes. He called out Justin for not knowing something about how suites are assigned and he crapped on my major. 'Why not MIT or Carnagie Mellon?' All shite." He added an eye-roll emoji.

"Oh boy," I replied as Allen and Chris continued to bicker. "Hopefully he calms down soon."

"Or we just ignore him," Evan replied. "I don't normally take much shit-talking, but I'm trying not to make too many waves."

"Same," I typed. "Glad to not be alone."

"Justin's with us. He comes across as really laid back but I think he's . . . not." Smiley-devil emoji.

"Q-Tee?" I asked.

"Allen's left them alone. Cutie. Ugh. They're both legacies. I think Allen's not interested in tangling with them."

Tee drew my attention back to the call when he interrupted Allen's latest jibe at Chris.

"Any other advice, Chris?" he asked. I was glad Tee wanted information, like me. It humainzed Q-Tee a little.

Chris looked at T, and then Q, like he was seeing them for the first time. He looked more closely at the rest of us.

"Oh my," he laughed. "Y'all are in Laurens, aren't you?"

Allen nodded, while the rest of us looked on in confusion.

"My boys," said Chris, "you'd best prepare yourselves for one hell of a year."

"What now?" said Allen with a scowl.

"I think you may be this year's Meat Locker," said Chris.

"No way!" scoffed Tee, over Allen's disgusted snort.

Evan grinned. "Hold on, Chris. I have another question about classes."

He typed in the chat, "Justin, put in your ear buds or mute your laptop ASAP."

Chris looked confused but couldn't say anything before Evan asked, "what do you think about 'Equality and Equity' or 'Dreams, Dreaming, and Dreamers' for first semester?"

Allen muted his computer for a second and said something to Chris and then turned his mic back on.

"Good courses," Chris said, flashing a thumbs-up. "Dreamers is a little woo-woo, even for me, and Equality gets really intense really fast, but like I said, I don't think you can really go wrong with the Great Courses."

Once Justin was settled with his head set on, he typed into the chat, "I probably won't talk much" but gave the thumbs-up for us to keep going.

"Okay," I said, "so what's the Meat Locker?"

Chris said, "every year, a suite of Laurens first year guys get housed in the God Quad. It's called the Meat Locker because it's usually a bunch of the hottest gay boys, who are usually the hottest Laurens, who are usually the hottest A. Hams. They're expected to host parties for the First Years. Lots of parties."

"God Quad?" Justin typed.

Chris continued: "The God Quad is one of the nicest suites in the First Year Dorm and by far the largest. There's the giant common room, the wrap-around windows and with bench-seats, the working fireplaces, even a deck. The bedrooms are huge!"

"There are six of us," said Q. "How will we ever fit in a quad?"

"Well, that's a good point," said Chris. "Maybe they changed things around somehow?"

My head swum a little. Were we really the hottest gay boys in our class? That seemed unlikely, as handsome as the guys were. I'd read jokes about "A. Ham. handsome," like a lower scale than the real world, but surely we weren't the pinnacle of what A. Ham. had to offer.

And if we were the hottest, why had we been put in Laurens and grouped together as suitemates? I didn't want to be objectified like that, did I? It was a compliment, I guess, but it was weird for the university to group us based on our looks. Still, first world problems, I guess.

"An existential question, and we're not even on campus. The A. Ham. experience begins!" said Evan with a smirk.

"What on Earth?" said Allen, his eyes narrow with scorn.

"Is the 'Meat Locker' the room the meat is housed on, or is it the meat itself?" Evan said. "We'll know soon enough."

"Probably the room," said Chris. "Still, you boys should plan on getting some attention."

"I thought House assignments were made randomly," I said. "That's what they said at Spring Orientation."

"Sweet summer child" said Evan with a wicked grin. "From what I've read, even the stuff that's supposed to be random at A. Ham. isn't random."

"You're not wrong," said Chris. "I'd be surprised if there wasn't some social engineering component to just about everything that happens on campus. You'll probably be written up as a case study in some PhD thesis next year."

Allen huffed. "Quit hijacking," he said to Chris through tight lips. "These are my roommates."

"Pipe down, you" said Chris lightly, elbowing his brother. He paused to collect his thoughts.

Justin unmuted to say, "this is really useful for me." Other than Allen, the rest of us murmured our agreement.

Chris went on: "You probably know that A. Ham.'s undergraduates are divided into the Great Houses. All Firsties live together in the First Year Dorm. We mostly call the dorm "Firsty" on campus. Your next three years you'll live in your House. House assignment is supposed to be random, not the brave or brainy or evil or whatever they do at Hogwarts."

"Using Harry Potter to explain Alexander Hamilton University is obscene," muttered Allen.

He may have been right, but none of us cared. "Lighten up, little bro," said Chris.

"House assignment isn't random, then?" said Tee. "I know it's supposed to be . . .."

Evan jumped in. "Online gossip says the Dean's Office structures the Houses."

"It's not entirely random," Chriss shrugged. "First there's legacies. Children can ask for assignment to a parent's House, and siblings can ask for assignment to the same House as a brother or sister." He nudged Allen with his elbow.

"Or to a different house," said Allen.

"It's less clear after legacies," said Chris. "Let's just say that different Houses have their own personalities, some of which go back decades. It's too much to be random, if you ask me."

"Saunders has the hot gays," said Evan. "All the chat rooms say so."

"Well," allowed Chris, "hot for A. Ham. Maybe not hot for big state schools, or U.S.C. But Saunders definitely has the Beautiful Boys."

"Are you Saunders too?" asked Q.

"As hot as I am," Chris said, batting his eyelids and buffing his nails on his shirt, "I'm entirely too straight to be one of the Saunders Boys. I'm Eliza House. We Lizzies are the performers, the actors, the comedians, and above all, the singers."

Allen rolled his eyes. "Chris is pitch for the Tom Cats and he's almost surely going to get tapped into Bodeleian next month. If you want to talk about anything else today, don't ask him about it."

"The what and the who?" said Justin before I could ask.

"Singing groups," said Allen, like it should be common knowledge. "A cappella singing groups." Justin's shrug matched my blank stare, which just encourages Allen to lecture. "Singing groups play a big part of A. Ham.'s culture. There are performances every weekend by one group or another, and they throw great parties, or that's what Chris says."

"Correct, little brother," said Chris. "The Tom Cats are one of the last all-male groups. Everybody knows we have the best voices."

"If he does say so himself," muttered Allen.

"Too true, little brother, too true, and don't any of you forget it!" Chris said with a broad smile. He was having fun tweaking Allen and I enjoyed watching it.

"Bodeleian is the Senior Society of male singers from across all groups," Tee explained. "They take the best singers at each range. Singers tapped by Bodeleian leave their groups, like the Tom Cats, or Valley Forge, and sing as Bodeleian."

"Tapped?" I asked. I'd heard the phrase before, but I couldn't place its meaning at A. Ham.

Chris explained. "When you apply for a singing group, or just about anything else on campus that has a selection process, we say you've been 'tapped' if you're selected. Singing groups, sports teams, Senior Societies, Eating Clubs, we literally come find you in your dorm or House or wherever we can find you and tap you on the shoulder."

"I thought the Eating Clubs had been disbanded," said Evan.

"Not disbanded," said Chris, "at least not yet."

"What are 'Eating Clubs," asked Justin. "I thought we just eat in the dining halls."

"Eating clubs are a holdover from Old A. Ham.," said Chris. "Students used to bid for seats in the Clubs, where most of the Juniors and Seniors ate and socialized. They were the center of campus life. When the Houses were created before World War I, the clubs started to fade."

"I thought they were officially killed off a while ago," said Evan.

Nobody mentioned them during the Spring Orientation, I thought.

"Not quite killed off," said Chris, "but they're dinosaurs for sure. Maybe you're thinking about when the university cut its ties with them? Now they're just private clubs, remnants of the past. Rotting fortresses protecting social class and money and connections." Chris's scorn was palpable.

"I don't know," said Allen. "There's something that seems quite appealing to me about the Clubs. I don't think I would mind honoring some of the older traditions like they do. I've thought about bidding."

"What 'older traditions" are you looking to promote," asked Chris. It was a loaded question.

"Well, dressing for dinner, eating by course to allow discussion, good conversation," said Allen, who seemed to be fumbling for answers. "Wouldn't each Club would bring like minds together."

Chris answewred harshly. "And what about the old tradition banning Jews?" said Chris. "All-male clubs with pretty little things in pretty little uniforms serving meals? All-white clubs? 'No Irish or other Catholics need apply?' No tap without the right prep school or family tree or income bracket? Those are the Eating Clubs traditions now, even if they're unstated."

"They can't be all that bad," said Allen mulishly.

"Have it your way," Chris said. "But you won't recreate your Brideshead fantasy and I expect you will lose friends if you join a Club."

Evan texted me, "R they really brothers?"

As Allen sputtered, Chris asked, "what else are you guys planning to do at A. Ham.? Bid a singing group? Athletics? The Political Union?"

"My father was a Forger and Bodeleian," said Q. "I love to sing so I'll bid Forge and the Tom Cats at least. I need to get the vibes of the other groups."

I'll bid-uh Forge-uh and the Tom Cats at least-uh.

Chris made some suggestions that I didn't catch. The groups' names went in one ear and out the other. I hadn't thought about joining a singing group.

"I'll look forward to your audition," said Chris although he sounded dubious to me. Q's diction was really affected, would it come through in his singing? "Anybody else?"

"Not me," said Evan. "I sing like a goat."

"I hadn't given it much thought," I admitted. "I thought I'd get some ideas for groups and activities at the Clubs Fair."

"Well, think about it. At least, if you can sing. We'll do a few concerts before you bid so you can get to know the different groups. It takes up a lot of time, but you'd get laid all the time!"

"Chris!" Allen said with distaste. "Don't be crass!"

Chris just laughed. "I'm just saying, when we go on tour, the gay boys pull way above their league. It's the tuxedos, I think. Just being at A. Ham doesn't hurt, off campus. Not that Meat Locker boys will need much help, but the gays pull male model types when we sing at schools like the University of Miami or UCLA, where there are real hotties."

"Enough," said Allen. "That's quite enough!"

"They don't pull as hard at A. Ham.?" asked Tee, ignoring Allen.

"Singers always do well at school, but not like on tour. First of all, something like 15% of A. Ham. is in one of the groups so it doesn't set you apart all that much. Second, A. Ham. is small enough that you'll be a known quality soon enough with or without a singing group. Joining might give you some visibility but the real dick comes on tour."

Allen was angry now. "Dammit, Chris. You've taken it too far. It's one thing to joke, but you're as straight as can be."

"Little brother, as you well know, Pipes Dupree has been my roommate since I got to A. Ham. We were tapped for the Tom Cats together, and we've toured all around North America and Western Europe. In that time, Pipes has probably sucked hundreds of dicks and he's told me about them all. That's miles of dicks, little brother. I assure you, I know of what I speak."

"Oh my god," is all Allen could say, burying his face in his hands.

Everybody but Allen was laughing. Faux-innocently-and to tweak Allen a little, if I'm being honest-I said, "'Pipes' the cocksucker? That can't be real."

Allen's lips tightened but Chris and the other guys laughed hard. "Prep school nicknames can be cruel. You know, 'slim' for a fat guy, 'Hoss' if a guy has a small one, but Pipes came by his nickname honestly. He can sing like a lark and he's got quite a horn, or so he claims. He'll love you boys," Chris added with a joking leer. "Well, maybe not Allen, but the rest of you for sure."

"Chris," said Allen tightly, "you have hijacked this call and totally disrupted our conversation. We've barely had a chance to get to know Jon, who was MIA until today. Just go. I though you were golfing today anyway, why are you still here?"

"You're right, little brother," said Allen. "Tee time is an hour off yet, so I'd best scoot, but first . . ." he elbowed Allen aside and started typing ". . . my contact info is in the chat. You boys feel free to reach out with any questions. Toodley-ooo." He stood, ruffled Chris's hair, kissed him on the top of his head, and disappeared from the screen.

Allen steamed. "I am so sorry!" he said earnestly. "He's taken this Big Man On Campus thing entirely too far!"

"Don't worry about," said Evan, whose tone said he'd enjoyed meeting Chris as much as I had. "I don't know anybody who goes to A. Ham., so that was great. Do you guys really think we're the Meat Locker?"

We agreed it was doubtful, if for no other reason than that we wouldn't fit into a quad.

"At least, I hope it's not true," I said.

"Why not," asked Q. "We'll be the talk of campus."

"M-hmm," said Tee, "fresh meat."

"Not what I signed up for," I said. "I don't want to get singled out for how we look. I don't want to host parties. I don't even really like parties, if I'm being honest."

"No keggers for you, then, Jon?" Allen asked as if he were surprised.

"Not if I can help it," I admitted. "At least, not in our suite. The smell alone . . .."

"Well, that is a surprise," said Allen. "I'd have expected you to want to 'party hearty.'" He spared us the digital air quotes, but his tone made clear he thought I was some sort of party animal. He wasn't paying me a compliment.

"What the fu . . .." I started to say.

"Jesus, Allen, stereotype much?" said Justin, talking over me. "You don't know anything about any of us, Jon least of all."

"Well, it's just my opinion," he said, acting a little taken aback. "I mean, really. A broken down truck, ignoring all the early correspondence, taking this call from a picknick bench, it's all a little amateurish, if you ask me. My goodness, Jon, you couldn't even be bothered to put on a shirt for us."

I took a breath. "We've already covered most of that. I'm not wearing a shirt because it's almost 90 degrees and I just rode by bike 10 miles to find good coverage and a private place for the call."

"Plus," said Evan, "what does any of that have to do with whether Jon likes to party or not?"

Before Allen could say more, I shut down the topic. "Look, Allen, whoever you think of me, you've got it wrong." I didn't try to keep the anger from my voice or the scorn from my face.

Justin tried to jump in, hopefully on my side but maybe just to try to make peace. If I stayed on the call much longer, I expected I'd say something I'd regret so I spoke over him.

"Sorry, guys, it's best if I jump. I'm glad we were able to meet before we get to campus. I'm not sure how connected I'll be until we're at school so email or text is probably the best way to stay in touch. I don't think we need to talk again but if somebody wants another Zoom I'll try to join, just please give some notice in case I'm slow to get the emails."

Tee spoke up. "We're taking Daddy's boat up to the Vineyard tomorrow so we won't be able to join any other calls. If anything comes up, text is best for us too." Q nodded along.

"All right, guys," I said, "take care. Thank again for the call. I'll see you all in New York." Without waiting for any other responses, I disconnected from the call.

Almost immediately I got texts from Evan and Justin. Evan wrote "Jesus you looked pissed. What an asshole!" and Justin wrote "Are U okay?"

We went back and forth a bit, eventually in a group. I was pissed, but I was also okay. I had known I should expect some sneering, although I expected it from the prep school kids and not one of my roommates. His brother seemed normal enough so maybe Allen would settle down once we got to campus.

Look at you, I laughed at myself. The glass is always half full, isn't it?

I was glad that Justin and Evan seemed to agree with me. They were also wary of Allen, maybe fearing they might have been his target if not for me. None of us knew why Allen thought he needed a target, but we agreed that he did.

Tee seemed okay, too, although that was harder to tell. Still, I wondered if I was in for a long year. There are bullies everywhere, I knew, and I doubted Allen even knew he was one.

I caught a glimmer of hope later that evening when Chris texted me out of the blue. "Good to meet you today Jon. Allen said he stepped in it after I left. I think he's sorry, although you'll probably never hear it from him."

"Thanks for joining the call," I wrote neutrally. "I learned a ton today."

Chris took my meaning. "LOL," he wrote back, "I'm sure you did. Welcome to A. Ham.! Look forward to meeting you in person. Enjoy the beach!"

Another useful data point, I thought. On the one hand, Allen seemed to get that he'd been an asshole. On the other, Chris made it sound like Allen didn't back down, even when he knew he was wrong. A long year indeed.

In just under two weeks, I'd start to find out how long.

Thanks for reading! Maybe more importantly, thank you for your patience. I took a break from the story because I felt like the quality of my writing was diminishing and I was too focused on the sex scenes and not enough on Jon's story. Going forward, I think I have found a better balance. In the coming months, I plan to get Jon to school, introduce his roommates, and write about their first year. Jon's next summer is mapped out too, so there are plenty of adventures to come!

I look forward to your comments, questions, and critiques. You can reach me at cottagecore.stories@gmail.com. I'm sometimes slow to respond, but I'll reply eventually. Cheers!

Next: Cottagecore: Road Trip Chapter 12 -- Quinton

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