Until We Sort This Out

Chapter 1Roy Roy’s phone lit up with yet another dorm resident texting to complain about the noise in the hall. As if he couldn’t hear it for himself. He saved his notes, just in case—Roy always saved—and went to the door. Roy stepped into the hall and was instantly covered in glitter. He blinked his watering eyes a few times and looked around. Not for the culprit—he could guess that—but to assess how much cleaning the hallway would need. Not that much. The glitter was mostly on Roy. Which meant Cato had planned it that way. Roy sighed loudly as Cato crowed and danced in place, clutching his head and making his messy crimson hair even messier. “Cato…” “I’m bringing color to your drab existence, Roy!” Cato said. “You’re welcome!” “Bedazzle the world more quietly, okay? Your peers are trying to study and sleep.” “How can they study and sleep?” Cato’s mouth twitched at the corners with the effort not to laugh. “It doesn’t matter, Cato, because it’s after midnight and it’s a weeknight and therefore Quiet Hours are in force.” Roy had said this exact sentence to Cato at least once a week since the school year began two months ago. It felt longer. “It’s Thursday, Roy! The day before Friday! That’s practically the weekend!” The Residence Assistant rolled his eyes. “Well, keep it down for those of us who are planning to go to our morning classes.” “People go to those?” “That’s why the university schedules them, Cato.” “I thought it was a cruel practical joke.” “You think discipline is a joke,” Roy said. “No one’s forcing you to attend class. Just be quiet.” “I’m not sure I’m physically capable of being quiet.” Roy started to rub his eyes, but remembered the glitter and smoothed his hair instead. “Be enough quieter that your neighbors stop complaining, okay? Please?” Cato sighed heavily and dramatically. “I’ll try. As a special favor to you, because I love you so.” “Thank you, Cato. I appreciate that.” “If you appreciate me, then can I have a cookie?” “May you have a cookie.” “Yes, I may,” Cato said firmly. “Snickerdoodle.” Roy sighed, but reached around the door frame for the tin he kept on the shelf next to the first-aid kit. He held the cookies out, saying, “Residents who cause trouble during Quiet Hours only get calming raisin bran biscuits.” Cato pouted ostentatiously. “This is how you reward those who love you? No wonder you’re single, Roy.” “You’re right, Cato. Being a responsible, hard-working person who can cook is obviously why I’m single. Here’s your cookie.” “You really won’t give me a snickerdoodle? I know you made some. I smelled them baking.” The exaggerated expression shifted to something that looked more genuine. “You’re really mad?” The corner of Roy’s mouth twitched. “No, I’m just out of snickerdoodles.” The pout softened. “You’d give me one if you had them, though?” “Probably,” Roy admitted. “Now stop talking in the hall. Good night.” Roy shut the door to his dorm room. Cato flung himself against it, shouting, “I wish I could quit you, Roy!” Roy shook his head. Glitter fell onto the black-on-white pages of his textbook. He smiled and left it there.