The College Club

Both

RaleighBoy

and

Peterspeter

have stories on here in which I've drawn inspiration from for this story. I really recommend checking out their work as well, since if it was not for them I would not have had the muse to write this (hopefully) ongoing series. Though both of those stories seem to have stopped being written, I could not have been inspired for this work with out theirs. I also have a homage to

frozenhero1

, whose work on Lit is fantastic and inspired me greatly. He's currently on hiatus due to a loss in his family and I can only wish him and his family the best.

I hope everybody enjoys it, and as always, I not only welcome comments but also encourage constructive criticism so my stories can only get better!

Bonus points to whomever can guess

who

I've named my fictitious university after. Not what, who. Like, guess people whose names I just named it after, it's not based on any actual college.

=====

Prologue

December 21, Los Angeles

John's mother brought in the mail when she arrived home from work as usual. John and his father were both home already home. John got home a few hours ago from school and his father worked from home.

"John, honey," his mother called from the kitchen. "You've got something here. From

The Palmer Institute of Higher Learning

!"

John quickly jumped up from the couch where he and his father were watching The Lakers take on The Suns. "Tell me if Nash does anything amazing, Pops," he said running into the kitchen to join his mother.

His mother handed him the envelope; it was thick. John's hands shook as he pulled up the envelope's flap. The Palmer Institute was his first choice for college, he had even applied early admission; meaning if he was accepted by Palmer, he would immediately enroll for the upcoming fall term and withdrawal all other college applications he'd turned in. It was roughly 45 minutes away from home, which seemed like a perfect distance in order to be far enough away from his parents to have independence but also close enough if he ever needed something or (much more likely) if he and his friends-to-be wanted free laundry service and a home cooked meal.

He took a deep breath and finally tore the envelope's flap completely open and dumped the contents on the kitchen island. "Well?!" He asked frantically search for anything that might indicate whether he got in or not.

John's mother, clear headed as she was, quickly picked up a single page of paper.

"It's not that one, Mom," John said rolling his eyes. The acceptance letter had to be longer than a single page.

"Ahem," his mother said, clearing her throat as John's father joined them in the kitchen as well.

"

Dear Mr. Llewelyn,

Here at The Palmer Institute of Higher Education blah blah blah. The Palmer institute only picks the most talented students of science who will greatly benefit from the education we provide. We only pick the students that we believe that students with high integrity are the best fit for our student body. We also believe that compassion for others is of the utmost importance. It is for these and many other reasons that we are greatly proud to call you one of our students. Your compassion for others was clear in your essay about how you want to help students with learning disabilities as an ultimate goal after higher education.

Enclosed you will find... blah blah blah."

"I... I... I GOT IN!" John screamed! He and his parents couldn't be more excited!

The rest of John's senior year of high school would be a cakewalk. He already got into college! The second semester was going to be great. And even greater things were to come!

Or so he and his family thought.

====

January

"I hate this yield sign," John thought to himself while watching traffic and waiting to turn right. Something behind him caught his attention, and he glanced to his rearview mirror. He wished he didn't; behind him a semi had lost control and was skidding toward him, wheels screeching on the wet pavement.

With a split second before the impact, John jammed his foot on both the break and emergency break in his Prius. He was going to get hit by the semi, hopefully he could stop his car from being launched into the oncoming traffic.

Less than a second later, he felt the impact propel him forward. Then nothing.

John woke up in the hospital. He held his hand up shielding his eyes from the lights in the room. His head was killing him, so was his right knee and left side of his face.

"Oh, honey, you're awake! Your Dad and I were so worried!"

"What... what happened?" Asked John, realizing he was hooked up to an IV and monitoring equipment. He didn't have the courage to look at his leg or feel his face yet.

"You were in a car accident, you're in the ER now, John," his mother said. "You should be okay, you have a concussion but other than that just minor cuts and bruises."

"Mmmm," John mumbled lying back. If he only had cuts and bruises why did his face and knee feel like they were smashed with a sledge hammer?

=====

April

"We figured it out," John's doctor said to him, as he massaged his knee. "It's a rare neurological condition. Your face and knee were hurt in that accident, but healed as they should have. The nerves, however, must have had extensive damage."

"So basically," John began to summarize in layman's terms, "My face and knee are fine, but my brain thinks they're still hurt from the accident? And that's why they both hurt more than any pain I've ever felt before?"

"I'm afraid so," the doctor said. She smiled at him, though she knew it would do little good. "Hey, look on the bright side, we have a diagnosis now. And now nobody will think you're crazy."

"Mmmm," John mumbled. "How long 'til the pain goes away?"

The doctor's weak smile disappeared. She sighed and tried to look as reassuring as should could to John and his parents. "Well, you could go into remission tomorrow. Or you could have this nerve pain for life."

That was the last thing any of them wanted to hear.

John broke the awful silence first. "So right now, I just gotta keep taking my meds and using a cane? Will I ever get off it?"

The doctor gave the same answer as before. This definitely wasn't the news John wanted to hear, especially since his semester was winding down and he'd be headed off to college soon.

=====

August

"Name?" Asked the Resident Advisor sitting at the check in table.

"Llewelyn. John Llewelyn."

"Oh, I was given special instructions for you, following me." As he, John and John's parents followed with some of his belongings, the RA continued, "We have you in the disabled room... I know that sounds shitty, but you're a lucky guy. It's bigger and you have your own

bathroom and shower

."

The RA showed them the room. It was big, by dorm standards. It looked like John would also have a roommate since there was a second bed, desk and dresser. "Roommate here yet?" John asked the RA while unpacking his medications.

"Not yet, but if there's any problem you let me know, ok? I have to go check in the rest of the students. Seriously, call me if you need anything, John."

John thanked the RA and he and his parents continued to unpack until his side of the room was completely set up.

As if on cue another student and his parents walked into the room. The other student looked around and walked up to John. "Dude, this is huge! It's awesome we get the disability room, isn't it?"

John smiled and held up his cane. "It's not as awesome when you're the reason they have a disability room." He said sarcastically.

"Er... sorry. I didn't mean, I mean, I..." the other student stumbled for words, clearly embarrassed by his faux pas.

"It's cool," John said, swinging the cane between his fingers. "I'm John, guess we'll be living together, and these are my folks."

Everybody introduced themselves, John's learned his roommate's name was Randal and seemed cool enough.

=====

End of First Semester, Freshmen Year

Throughout the first and second semester, John saw less and less of Randal. It wasn't that the two weren't friends, but Randal just wasn't around as much any more. He would spend his nights and weekends elsewhere, and never really told John where he went during this time.

Making friends was especially hard for John, he was very self conscious about needing a cane and generally being disabled in college. He made a few, but nothing really seemed long lasting. Eventually, John ended up staying in the room most weekends and playing Skyrim or something by himself in between homework breaks. Though it was hard to admit, his self-imprisonment was depressing him and he really felt like a hermit at The Palmer Institute, and having a handicap didn't help in the least.

"Hey man," Randal said walking into the room one Friday night. John, reading some comics in bed, and gave a wave hello. The two went about their business for a few moments until John finally decided to just ask Randal what was up with his disappearing act.

"Alright man, what's going on? I like never see you anymore. What the hell's up?"

Randal collapsed onto his bed. "You know what, I was talking to my friends in this club I belong to about you, and I think it's time I filled you in. It was hard for me to make friends before, but a junior in one of my classes told me about it. It's kind of hard to explain, but tomorrow there's gunna be this meet'n'greet. It sounds stupid, I know, but come. I think you'd really dig the club and the members."

John put down the current issue of

Captain Darkness

he was reading and sat up in the bed. "Are there any girls in the club? I'm not joining another sausagefest, that anime club I went to that one time was awful."

Randal laugh. "Yes, there's girls there, dork. That's kind of what the club's for. You have a tough time meeting people, especially girls, right?"

John couldn't deny it. He hadn't been on a date since before his accident. He gripped his cane in two hands, "What girl would want me?"

"John, you're like the nicest guy. Okay sure, your cane might put off some people. But would you really want to be friends or date people like that?"

Randal didn't wait for John to answer, not that he was going to anyway, "So listen, the club's kind of a secret. You won't see them with a table during club week or whatever. So, don't tell anyone unless you get the okay to advertise, okay?"

That was kind of weird, but if it meant making new friends who wouldn't judge him John would go along with it.

"Alright, John, it's tomorrow at noon. Food'll be provided. If you really want to make friends quickly, bring your

meds

."

That last part was a joke, one of the medications John used was medicinal marijuana and although many college students use it recreationally, for John medicinal marijuana was something more than a recreational drug. It allowed him to walk without the use of a wheelchair – something no other pharmaceutical drug could do at this point in the progression of John's nerve damage. He still kept his wheelchair in his dorm room should the need arise to use it due to a flare up of pain, extreme muscular weakness or any other of the menagerie of reasons.

John laughed, he'd bring his weed of course, but he wouldn't be sharing it. "Alright, you talked me into it. And speaking of meds..." John took out a long, clear, cylindrical glass pipe with a tiny white treefrog just above the green bowl. He packed the bowl with one small pinch of marijuana, put the pipe to his lips, lit the bowl and inhaled deeply. He took the pipe away from his mouth and exhaled after about ten seconds, then repeated the process two more times; taking 3 hits of marijuana in total. He laid back in bed and continued to read his comic as the medication went to work.

"I still can't believe you get to do that out in the open," moped his roommate.

"Yeah, it's a really great trade off to being crippled. That and getting on airplanes first. Oh, and at Disneyland, I get to cut the lines. Yep. Nerve damage sure is a blessing." John was sarcastic of course, and Randal knew it.

Sarcasm was one of John's many defense mechanisms after the accident he developed. John also developed his very dark sense of humor accident as well. Still, at least he had his medical marijuana and many prescription medications to help his condition. He could only imagine what his leg and face would feel like without these marvels of medical science. As he began to, he shook it off, and distracted himself with his comic again; thinking about what he'd experience and do without medical help was something John never liked thinking about. Luckily, the marijuana helped with that as well.

"Hey man," he said, finally breaking the silence between him and his roommate. It wasn't an awkward silence; the two roommates tended to lead somewhat separate lives even when Randal was in the room. "This meeting, you're not just fucking with me with some friends and have hired a hooker for tomorrow, right?"

"No, but, well," Randal didn't quite know how to explain a certain aspect of the club so he struggled for words. "Alright, I'll just come out and say it. It's not really just a club. It's sort of like a 'Try Out Different Friends With Benefits,' club."

"Wha—?"

"Okay, it's like this man. Tomorrow people are going to like see whether or not you should be admitted to the club, if you'd be a good fit. There's only a few openings and we don't want to let in people who won't fit. Don't worry, bro, I'm one of the people who is gunna be assessing you or whatever. I've already told them all about you and we're gunna make sure you get it. Just don't do anything

really

stupid, ok?"

"Alright. Can you explain more about the dating thing...?" This club was sounding perplexing.

"Okay, we're not really supposed to talk about that, but whatever. In my mind you're in the club already, and if you don't get in there'll be hell to pay. Anyway, it's like this dude, all the members of the club are all like us, they all have like a hard time meeting people because they're either like too busy with school work or they're shy or something like that. So there's this club that meets and has like a sign-up whiteboard matrix that's set up with guys names going up and down and girls names going side to side. So like from time to time you should check your box and see who has put a tick on it. The girls here get to choose 3 dates a week, all you have to do is specify how many dates you think you can have time to go on for that week."

"Okay, I guess I understand."

"Oh yeah, and those 3 dates you get per week can't be turned down unless there's like a real reason you have to or like one of you comes to us and explains why it won't be a good match, y'know? Oh yeah, and if you're busy with school or whatever, you don't have to use all your dates any given week, y'know? So there could be some weeks when you're really busy and have zero, and others where you have 3. There's a little more to it than that, but you'll find out as the club progresses, y'know?"

"For sure, man, that sounds great."

The two talked a little bit more, and Randal gave John directions and the address where the meetup would take place. During this time, John was able to take the rest of his nighttime medication. After a little more talking, John could feel the meds kicking in.

"Alright man, I think I'm gunna hit the hay. If you're not staying here, no worries. I'll catch you tomorrow."

=====

John woke up the following day and found to not surprise his roommate's bed hadn't been slept in.

"I should just push them together one day and get a bigger bed out of it,"

he thought going into his private shower.

After showering, grabbing something quick to eat from his mini-dorm-fridge John had some time to kill before the meetup began. He decided to work on his Dungeons and Dragons character for an upcoming campaign he was planning to take part in... online, on a forum-based role playing game site. After putting the final touches on the character about an hour had passed. John, leaned back in his computer chair, looked up at the crummy-looking ceiling and sighed. "I really do need a life outside this dorm room," he admitted quietly to himself.

"Oh shit," he said to himself realizing what time it was and just how much time had passed since he began working on his Druid. "I gotta go to the meeting. I don't want to be too late and make a horrible impression."

With that, John closed the lid of his laptop, putting the computer to sleep. He began choosing a wardrobe for the gathering. He finally decided on wearing something he'd normally wear to something like this – that way he wouldn't give any false impressions about himself. The weather was pretty nice for this time of year in the L.A. area where the Palmer Institute was located. John decided jeans and a shirt with the

DeLorean

from

Back to the Future

and the

Tardis

from

Dr. Who

having crashed into one another. The caption underneath read: "It Came Out of Nowhere." It was a great shirt, John's favorite, in fact. It would take somebody truly special to understand and laugh at the shirt's joke. Hopefully, John would be able to meet a number of young women who got the joke. This was supposed to be a club for geeks, nerds, technophiles, dorks, whatever you wanted to call them, and this was a club for people like that. People who had not found a circle of people to call friends.

John finished the wardrobe off with a Lakers hat. They were his favorite team, especially now that Steve Nash was on it. In John's mind, he was the best point guard in basketball, regardless of the fact he was nearly 40.

"Now or never," mumbled John, taking some of his medication and placed the containers containing both his regular pharmaceutical medication and his joints in a bag he carried everywhere since he was unable to keep things in his pockets anymore. He liked his man-bag anyway; it was decked out in super hero pins, as well as many other pins he'd collected while attending college. "Please," he wished silently, "Please let me make some friends who are interested in me for more than just my medical marijuana."

On that note, John began walking out of his room, toward the meeting's location just off campus. It was going to be a little bit of a long walk, hopefully he'd be able to find a ride back to his dorm if he felt he would not be able to walk back due to pain.

=====

It took a while, and John's leg was killing him by the time he found the off campus residence the meeting was taking place at. Walking here instead of driving was a bad idea, one that John knew he shouldn't have done, but it was too late to change any of that now.

He walked up to the front of the house. He sneered, taking in what lay ahead of him, "Great. Now I have to climb some stairs? This house might as well be built like a monastery in Tibet!"

"Hahaha, I know, right? They should put in an escalator or something. 'What do I look like? A guy who ain't lazy?'"

The voice came from behind him and took him by surprise. Not only was it a quote from

Futurama

, but it was a

girl

making it!

"Do you need some help climbing them into the house?" the girl asked.

Now she not only quoted

Futurama

but she also offered him help? It was rare for a stranger to offer him help, even here at The Palmer Institute – where students with high integrality. The gesture and quote completely threw John off.

The young lady held him by the left arm, allowing him to grip the handrail with his right. It was a struggle, but John managed to make it up the stairs with a minimal amount of cussing. Once at the top, he took in the girl with the kindest heart he'd met since he moved into the dorms. She was tall, quite a bit taller than John who only stood at 5'7". Her hair was long, dirty blond and tied into a ponytail. She wore yoga pants that hugged every curve of her thin, yet muscular physique. On top, she had a T-Shirt with the Palmer Institute's mascot, Atlas holding an atom instead of the earth.