Author's Note: So here it is, the sequel. I am going to try and post a chapter a day because I have most of this story already written. As a present though, today I am going to post two :)
Since the start of term in September, things had been pretty hectic. Apart from the mountains of coursework that Sam and I had been ladened with, every piece with it's own deadline which usually only gave us a day to get it finished, two if we were lucky, and the Lecturer was generous; Sam and I were also holding down two jobs each just to get enough money for food, and to pay the rent.
Our plans to get an apartment of our own became more and more of a pipe dream as we found ourselves constantly having to fork out for equipment, text books, etc. So our horrendously snug room remained our home as the months passed.
The size of the room itself resembled a cupboard in it's dimensions, because it was. The owner of the place had converted the old utility cupboard into a room a couple of years ago. Due to lack of space, Sam and I decided that we couldn't have a bed each as there literally wasn't enough room to fit both of the frames on the little floor space we had, so instead we swapped the beds the guy who owned the place had left outside the door to our Harry Potter style cupboard under the stairs, for the bunkbed the students that lived in the room above us had been given.
I'm not even kidding.
When Sam and I arrived at Stanford and found the place, the guy simply threw the keys at us and pointed us ruffly in the right direction down the corridor. That's when we found the beds outside and the reason why they weren't actually in the room. Talking to the students upstairs when we swapped beds, it turned out that they were actually paying to live here, which was probably why Sam and I got stuck with the broom cupboard. The scholarship entitled us to a room at a discounted rent, it didn't specify what size it had to be. But anyway, having a bunkbed meant that we could at least have a bit of floor space.
After saving up the money we made from our jobs, Sam and I were able to buy a cheap desk and a wooden chair. Slowly but surely, our room was becoming more and more homely. Things like the mirror on the wall, the desk lamp, the lamp shade and the rug were all from the thrift shop and only cost us around $7. I had put my photo of Bobby and I up, like I promised, and Sam had also put up a little framed picture of Mary and John.
We'd spend most nights after classes in our room. Being on scholarships meant that everyone knew you were poor and therefore we didn't get invited to anything at first. Sam had a guy called Brady in his Law class that he talked to, and he'd introduced him to a girl called Jess, but that was about it on the friends front. To be perfectly honest, I didn't really want to talk to anyone in my English class. Everyone in it was either stuck up, annoying, childish or just down right pathetic. I was sick of hearing them complaining about how hard everything was for them right now because their apartment only had 20 bedrooms, or their parents had only sent them 4k this month, or they were too tired because all of the countless parties they'd been invited to.
They don't realise what they have.