Dawson is- most people who don't know him would say- as straight as they come. And senior year away from home promises to be a big year for him: no parents in sight, a whole new set of friends, he just seems to have it all. Not to mention that all t...
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THE ROOM IS not fogged by that pungent stench of weed anymore and Dawson couldn't be happier. His honey-scented shower gel has contaminated the air filling the entire volume of the dorm. He proudly walks out the bathroom wearing only a towel around his hips and his hair is just dripping water everywhere on the floor. He thanks the Lord for Milo being such a social butterfly- or at least trying to be one- because that means he gets to have the room to himself more often than he had originally expected.
Before leaving the room, Dawson heard Milo say something about having the first breakfast of the school year with his friends and he almost rolled his eyes in his sleep. The boy is corny, however, he's also terribly infatuated with Calliope Jennings which definitely doesn't help to take the awkwardness down a notch or two. Dawson understands where he's coming from. No, actually, he does not. Because he's never been in love, he's never felt that sort of connection with anyone. But he's trying to understand and that has to count for something, right?
It's 8 am and Dawson is really not in the mood to start his first day of senior year at Wharton High. He glances at the remains of the piece of paper Alyssa- the woman from the front office- gave to him when he enrolled in the posh-est boarding school of the West Coast. Under the room number, there's a short but essential list of things Dawson is supposed to take into consideration. The first one on the list is the dress code. And it sure as hell must be important, because Alyssa underlined it three times and the two words are followed by five exclamation points.
Wharton High doesn't require its students to wear uniforms, but it still provides a comprehensive set of rules concerning the appropriate clothing to wear in the school context. Dawson hasn't even looked at it. Nor he intends to.
Although, he probably should read it just so he knows what he's supposed to wear to class to piss off the teacher enough to get kicked out. He wants to do his homework, after all, he never was a negligent student.
So, he slides into his favorite Joy Division tee and puts on his black ripped jeans, then dives into the fascinating discovery of Wharton High dress code. Dawson's first class starts at 9 am and he's not looking forward to it. Plus, Milo left before he even woke up, so he's going to have to find his way to class.
"Ripped jeans, or other ripped articles of clothing, are not allowed," he read out loud enthusiastically, glancing at his bare knees. "This'll be fun."
*
Room 44 is the very last classroom in the long hallway. Unlike the other rooms, the door isn't located on the side, but on the back. Dawson is standing in front of the closed door, firmly holding the timetable in his hand. He's pleasantly surprised by the discovery that next to each and every subject lies the full name of the professor in capital letters.
Philosophy - FAYE REMINGTON
Dawson smirks and folds the piece of paper back into his pocket. He peers into the classroom through the small, elongated window at the top of the mahogany door. He can see Calliope's perfectly-styled blonde waves flowing down her back and Maisie-Rae's 90s black bob. Her head is slightly tilted to the left as she's taking note of everything the teacher is saying.
