Author's Note: Ambrose Powell Hill was held back from graduating as a cadet due to the total amount of days that he missed due to a severe STD. I thought I'd elaborate on the angst of not passing a bit. Hope you folks enjoy. He needs a fandom. XD
"Congratulations." I managed through gritted teeth, the syllables sharply accented and forced. I started to walk away, but his extended hand hit me above the waist as I made a desperate attempt to escape from the Winners' Circle of the Point. I gave his hand a stiff shake at the elbow and withdrew, stalking towards a less crowded area of the reception room with my arms folded across my chest. I made my way through the thick crowd and made myself invisible against one of the walls, scowling bitterly and watching my classmates loathingly.
Because it was the last day of school for everyone but me, the housing assignments had changed. Thanks to that, I couldn't even go back to my room and leave the public spectacle. A dark haired boy with the barest trace of a mustache looked turned and whispered something to the boy next to him, smirking and turning his gaze back to me.
Blood rushed to my cheeks and I looked down at my nails, picking at the thumb of my right with my left hand until I drew a little blood. I pressed my lips together and involuntarily leaned away, my ears burning. The entire Point knew at least half of the embarrassing sequence of events that had led up to this, and if they combined all of their knowledge they'd know more than I did about the situation.
I sighed through my nose when I realized that the two had apparently found something better to do, and looked around the room for somewhere else to go until this stupid reception was over. I found a chair and sat down in a corner, watching the bright eyed alumni jealously as they chattered amongst themselves.
"Mr. Hill?" A piping voice jolted me out of my thoughts. Great. Now they'd gone the whole ten miles and gotten somebody to offer me condolences. Condolences for what? Getting an infection? I turned my head in the instructor's direction, answering in an exasperated, flat tone. Disrespect was so satisfying right now. "Yes, sir…?"
"We have the paperwork for your next term," he stated, holding out a folded white paper with a key inside. I took it and didn't say anything, waiting for the man to leave so that I could open my papers. After at least five minutes, I think he finally got the idea and left.
I should have done some crap quality dramatic opening, but I just split the wax seal on my new letter with the thumb that I had started to pick at earlier and unfolded it. The key slid off of the paper and fell into my hand. I put it into my pocket as I read over the assignment, following the black capital letters.
AMBROSE POWELL HILL. ASSIGNED TO DORMITORY 317.
I folded the paper back up and stood up from the chair, leaving the room through the exit closest to me and moving down the hall to the lockers. I put in the memorized combination, my hand making a series of twists and jerks before I opened the door.
I took out my duffel bag and let it land on the ground with a thud. I picked it up with a groan and started up the stairs, keeping the key in my pocket all the way up to the third floor of the student housing unit.
I unlocked the door and pushed it open. It swung, hit the wall, and clicked after me due to its force coming back. I dropped my duffel bag as soon as I was in the doorway and climbed up onto the top bunk, flopping down onto the uncomfortable mattress.
I stared at the ceiling for God-knows-how-long. I was interrupted only by a small cough rising from the pit of my chest, then another. I bent over slightly, feeling the aggravated tightness in my chest as I began to hack. The coughing is as if a nail is being sent across my lungs, tearing at them like a mad animal, but I can't stop. A few scarlet droplets dot the pillow under my head. Thank God, eventually it stops. I lay down stiffly on my back, closing my eyes. Oh, God....I've made a terrible mistake...