Since before this story began, I had a subtle desire for
my family. After winter break though, my subtle desire had turned to deep
longing. The only real thing that had kept me from transferring schools was
knowing that at least I had my best friend, Zach, in Savannah. The demise of our
friendship was the final straw, cementing my decision to transfer schools. For the
most part, following the soda bottle incident, Zach and I had gotten along. We
did not speak to one another, which helped out a lot. I will not lie and say
everything was peachy, there was a decent amount of tension; the same as if you
forced Obi-Wan and Darth Vader to live together. However, I was determined to
keep the peace my last few months in Savannah. On virtually every occasion that
a problem did arise, I took the high road. I refused to put my friends in the
middle of our feud and allow them to be pawn in our game, as Zach and Carson had.
I knew that is what would happen if I retaliated. Our de facto arrangement of universal indifference toward one another
and my Gandhi-like nature worked brilliantly. There was less than a week left
in the school year, I only had one final in Statistics, and an oral
presentation for my Spanish class left. The rest of my classes had already had
their finals, and by Tuesday I would be finished with this year from hell.
After the year I had, I decided that I wanted to go out with a bang; one last
celebration of the good times, before I left Savannah for good. Posting about
this exodus on a Facebook countdown till I left had caused me some problems. I
only had six more days left and I posted a status celebrating this and saying,
“I want to go out with a bang.” When Carson saw this status—via a minion he had
created for Farmville since I had blocked both Zach and him—he took it literal
and freaked. He and Zach reported my misread terroristic threat to housing and
subsequently I was reported to University Police. It was their last diabolical attempt
to screw me, before I was freed from my own personal hell. I had already talked
to two UPD officers the morning of my Statistics final, when they woke me to
make sure I was not going to go homicidal. Then met with the Director of
Housing after my final, during which I refused to promise him not to harm
myself, anyone else, or their property. Because of this refusal, he wanted me
to speak with the Chief of Police the next day.
In the morning, I woke well rested, even though I barely
slept. I had my usual feeling of dread at first, but then remembered that the
cause of my dread no longer lived under the same roof. When Zach and Carson had
reported me to Housing, they were forced to move out—for their protection. There
was no one left to cause me strife, and a state of bliss fell over me like I
had not felt in almost a year. The ecstasy was short lived, as I remembered
what lay ahead of me today. In my sheer delight of having inadvertently rid my
apartment of the gruesome twosome, I had absentmindedly forgot about my Spanish
oral presentation that day and scheduled to meet with the University Police Chief
during the allotted time for our class to meet. I had made the decision to go
to my Spanish class, my grades were more important than that crap, and hoped
that the Chief understood.
