This is perfect. If we manage to pull this off it could mess up his midterm as well! Langley said no one takes notes like Quinton does. Even if he asks around to borrow someone else’s I will make sure none of them hand them over. He won't have any studying material for the midterm! If he botches both tests his grades will plummet.
I'm smiling just thinking about it. Oh, his face during those tests will be priceless. I can imagine it now, his brow furrowed in anger and confusion, his teeth biting at his lips in fear at knowing that his future is doomed!
I feel like one of those dastardly villains on TV… only a thousand times better because I don't go around telling everyone my plans.
"So when should we do this?" Langley asks, leaning over the table, seeming to be as excited about this as I am. I feel the table shaking from his constant jerking of his legs. Not that I am any better.
"First we need to talk to Quinton's roommate, make sure he can get us in. You talk to some of the guys, see if they're willing to be a distraction." We wouldn't want to show up to find out that we can't even get in, or worse, have Quinton be there and discover our plan.
Langley nods. "I have a class with him. I'll talk to him about it."
Langley speaks the next day with Quinton's roommate, who agrees to leave the dorm unlocked a week before the test. If Quinton asks about his missing material, then the boy can just say he had forgotten to lock the door earlier. We also manage to get a few guys to agree to fake an argument outside the dorm in order to get the guards to leave that way we can sneak in. Usually the guards ask why you're there and to sign up under someone's name. Two people can sign up under someone’s name. If we do that then Quinton probably would be able to put it together and realize what we had done.
Our plan cannot be in effect soon enough.
*
"Shouldn't I feel bad about this?"
"What?" Langley asks.
"Breaking into someone’s room and taking their stuff… it should make me feel bad, right?" I ask because, honestly, Mother always told me not to steal. I never thought I would—I mean, why would I need to? I have everything I want. But as I stand before Quinton's room, I don't feel any sort of guilt or regret. I want to get this over with, crush him into dust, and part of me wonders if I've possibly gone mad. If so, it’s not such a bad feeling.
I keep thinking of his expression when he's told to pack up and leave. The mere thought of his face scrunching up in pain and sadness brings me joy. Have I mentioned how much I hate him lately? Because I do.
"He's an ass," Langley replies with a snarl. "He deserves it." And the boy pushes open the door, revealing the room.
It is a third the size of ours. My walk-in closet at home is probably bigger. There are beds on either side of the room. Next to the bed on the left is a desk, right in front of the window, while the other desk is pressed against the wall just a few inches from the doorway. There are trunks at the end of each bed, a closet, and a dresser. I see another door, slightly ajar, just enough to show a toilet and shower.
So it's true, Dorm D is nothing like ours. Seeing it makes me smirk, like I want to grab Quinton and show him my own dorm that is a thousand times better than his and rub it in. Knowing him, it probably wouldn't bother him, but it would make me happy.
"Come on, the sooner we get out of here the better," Langley says, rushing over to the desk by the window. I follow after him and the two of us dig around, grabbing notebooks and note cards.
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