Freshmen Chronicles

Author’s Note: I’m thrilled to be doing any writing considering how busy I am right now, but I’m still having a terrible time building my enthusiasm for this piece. I guess it has a lot to do with me naturally having less motivation and creativity for my fanfiction than when I’m working on something original. Hopefully, the more I work on this story, the more inspired I will become. ^_^


Chapter 3


Whew, I made it with just a minute to spare, but now I’m hoping that no one notices the huge pit stains under my arms. I’m sure my back is sweaty too, because I’m feeling the breeze a little too intensely. Shit, there goes my plan for making a good first impression, and it’s all that Sasuke bastard’s fault. Now I look like a fat person on a treadmill, and I can’t figure out which room 102 I should go in. Sure, the freshmen newsletter said Fletcher Hall room 102, but it didn’t say a damn thing about there being a 102A, 102B, 102C and a 102D. What ever happened to just naming rooms in numerical order; you know, 102, 103, 104? I bet they did this shit just to get a kick out of confusing the newbies!


“Hey, you wouldn’t happen to be searching for the freshmen orientation, are you?” A baritone voice stops my mental rendition of eeny meeny miney moe, and I turn around hoping I don’t look too desperate for help. I pride myself on having a great sense of direction, but East Meadowbrook University is doing its best of stripping me of my masculinity. I might have to resort to using that plastic, colorful pop-up map they left in our grab bags after all.


“Yeah, I am, but I can’t decide which room it’s in, and I don’t want to interrupt somebody’s class,” I say as I look the guy over. I was hoping that another freshman was lost so that I wouldn’t be the only one showing up late, but this guy looks like he’s around my dad’s age. However, I don’t think he’s a professor or anything, because his appearance is scruffy as hell with that huge beard and headband stopping his hair from falling into his face. The khakis, flannel and sneakers don’t help. Hmm, maybe he’s a janitor.


“Kid, you’re not even in the right place. Come on, I’m heading over there right now,” the guy says, and then walks out without another word. I jog to catch up to him, and the minute I get within 10 feet, I am blasted with the fragrance of cigarettes in their various forms of freshness. Just how much does this dude smoke? Hell, if I wanted a cigarette, I bet I could just roll him up and smoke him.


“This is us,” the man interrupts my nicotine trip. I look up and realize that we have walked almost half way down the hall, and are now standing in front of the elusive room 102. What the fuck? If this is room 102, what in the hell were all of the rooms I was just looking at?


“That’s why I always make sure to swing by the conference rooms before heading down here. If not, there would be a gang of confused freshmen hanging out and looking lost,” the man says as though reading my mind, before laughing at his own joke. I’m already irritated at the stupid layout of this building, kicking him in the shin is tempting. But, since he did show me where to go, and has me by about 6 inches and 35-40 pounds, I just brush it off with a growl. At least I’m not a 40-year-old janitor.


Apparently, considering how the place is full and everybody is calmly sitting down, I’m the only one that had trouble finding this place. Well screw them, I bet they all cheated; they had family members tell them what to do, the assholes. Whatever, I’m here now, so let’s get this over with.


“Alright, listen up newbies. My name is Asuma Sarutobi, and I’m the undergraduate coordinator for the freshmen and sophomores,” the man that I thought was a janitor announces from the front of the auditorium. I look around to see if anybody is sharing my shock, but everybody else is blank faced and staring forward like little drones.

‘Okay, that’s just fucking creepy,’ I think, before turning back around. One thing’s for sure, I’m glad I didn’t kick him!


“For the next two years you’re stuck with me, and if you’re still around after that, you get to meet Shizune, the undergraduate coordinator for juniors and seniors. She’s a lot nicer and sexier than me, but more importantly, she’s more patient,” Asuma says, and then takes a pause. From the looks on everybody’s faces, they wish they had Shizune now, me included.


“After dealing with last year’s bunch, we made a lot of changes around here. One, all freshmen have been segregated from the upper level students to make it easier to keep an eye on you; this includes residence halls, study lounges and classes. The others started classes after Labor Day on September 7, but you will not start until next Monday on the 20th. You don’t need to worry about being behind in your work, because special freshmen sections of all 100 and 200 level classes were created just for you. If you try to enroll in a section that’s not open for freshmen, you will be denied. Two, there is now a campus wide curfew. If you are not inside your residence hall by midnight, stay where you are, sleep in your car, sleep outside, I don’t care; you will not be permitted to enter the dormitory. Three, if you are caught with any candles, hotplates, incents, or anything that burns inside your rooms, you will be kicked out of the dorms without a refund, and without an option to appeal. The same goes for if you have any unauthorized parties. Four, if you are caught cheating or manipulating your grades in any form; you will receive straight zeros for that semester. Five, if you are under the age of 21 and are caught drunk off your ass, I will personally take you to the police station to make sure that you get a citation,” Asuma concludes, and you can practically hear a pin drop in the room. Everyone has some look of shock, horror or confusion, and somehow I think I got tricked into coming to boot camp. I should have known there was something wrong with a college that accepts a guy with 2.71 GPA and an ACT score of 19 without batting a lash. Shit!


“Alright, if you have any questions, direct them to your advisors. Only, and I mean only, after you have spoken to them do you contact me. Welcome to East Meadowbrook University,” Asuma says, and then promptly leaves. We all sit here waiting for the joke, but that’s literally the end of the orientation. What the fuck?


“Okay, now that you’re all finished here, you can go over to the Welcome Center and meet with your advisors. He or she will help you work out a tentative program of study, and then you will be able to enroll for classes. Feel free to leave at any time,” a young woman wearing classes and a messy ponytail quickly and nervously instructs, and no sooner than she finishes speaking, I am out the door. This has turned into hell day, and I just want it to be over.


Somehow, I make it over before everyone else does, and I’m quickly trying to find my advisor so that I can get the first meeting. In my quest to find him or her, I run smack into a young dude with a ponytail, knocking him down.


“Shit, I’m sorry, man. Let me give you a hand,” I apologize as I help the guy up. He doesn’t seem any worse for wear, and doesn’t look too pissed, so I turn to start my search again. But, on second thought, he might be able to point me in the right direction.


“Hey, you wouldn’t happen to know who’s the advisor for marketing majors, would you?” I ask while looking over my shoulder and the guy just smiles after dusting himself off.


“That would be me, Dr. Iruka Umino,” he informs while extending his hand. I state my name and take his appendage subconsciously, but my brain is still trying to process how and why I keep meeting all of these important people in the worst of ways. To hell with making a good first impression, I just hope that they don’t hate me.


“It seems that you’re the first person here. I value punctuality and tenacity,” Iruka says while giving my hand a firm shake, and I instantly feel a bit better. He doesn’t need to know that the only reason I’m here so early is that I want to hang out with my friends and eat.


“Aright Naruto, let me take a look at your file, and then we will go from there,” Iruka states after we enter a cubicle that I’m assuming is his makeshift office for the freshmen meetings. His face is entirely too expressive, and it’s taking everything in me not to peer over the manila folder to see what he’s reading. There’s some interesting stuff in that file, and I need to know just how much dirt he has on me so that I can talk my way out of this.


“Okay, I’ve looked over your transcripts, test scores, admission application and personal letters, and see that you’ve had some trouble in the past; however, you worked really hard your last three semesters of high school, so I’m sure that you’ll do fine. But, to err on the side of caution, I suggest that you only take 12 credits this semester so that you’re not overwhelmed. It is our goal that every student we admit is successful here. From your personal letter, I see that you’re quite passionate about marketing, but you’ll be surprised how many students come here dead set on one major, but wind up switching it to another. So, I’m going to recommend you to take ENG 101 – Introductory English I, SPH 101 – Fundamentals of Speech, POLS 101 –U.S. Government, and based on your placement test, MATH 100 – Pre-Algebra. You will need these classes with any major you choose to take, so you can be sure you’re not wasting your time. Just head over to the main desk, and a student aid will help you to register,” Iruka rattles off, before dismissing me, and I’m not quite sure what’s going on. He picks up on it by the look on my face, and starts speaking again.


“Sorry about the brevity of this meeting, but this is just to get you started. Within a few short hours, I have to see hundreds of kids. But, if you need to speak with me, just send me an email at uminoi@embu.edu, and then we can set up a more formal meeting,” he says, and the floor seems to reappear under my feet. I nod at his smile, and then walk out to find this student aid. Sadly, the masses have caught up, and there is a line with about 100 students in front of me. I check my watch to see that it is already five o’clock, so I take a number, and decide to take a nap.


“Ding, now serving number 127,” my fuddled mind hears, but I don’t react until it’s repeated by a human voice. I jump up, and almost fall out of my chair, as I head over to… a guy … wearing a trench coat and glasses. Okay, what is really going on? Is he a leper or something?


“Sign in, and enter your pin,” he says while keeping as much distance from me as possible. I know that I’m not musty, so maybe it’s him that’s not sure.


“First, click on the student tab, then registration, followed by the subject code and course number of the class you’re trying to enter,” he drones on, and I’m trying to see if he has any screws or bolts on his neck. In the technology era, you can never be too sure if somebody’s a robot or not.


“Now, if you look at the section numbers, you’ll notice that some have letters while others have numbers; the sections with the letters are for freshmen. Check the box of the section you want, and then click ‘add to schedule’,” he states, and for some reason, I spontaneously sneeze. Within seconds, he is on the other side of the room, losing his glasses in his haste. We stare at each other for a few moments, and after seeing his eyes grow so wide that he resembles a bug, I realize that he’s a germaphobe. Ha, I could have fun with this! Then again, that guy may be having a shittier day than me for all I know. I guess I could cut him some slack.


“Thanks for your help; I got it from here,” I say with a grin, but he just nods numbly. Damn, he’s got it bad. Okay, let’s see here. I look through the list, and quickly sign up for POLS 101 on Tuesdays and Thursdays from 10:30-12:10pm, ENG 101 on Mondays and Wednesdays from 10:30-12:10 pm, and SPH 101 on Mondays and Wednesdays from 12:20-2:00pm. Now all I have to do is get into a math class, and I can go. Hopefully, I can keep my Fridays open.


“No fucking way!” I shout and all heads turn towards me. I mumble a quick apology, and then just stare at the last MATH 100 section available. It’s fucking Monday, Wednesday and Friday from 8:00 to 9:10am. Did I like piss somebody off and get cursed or something? Fuck!


Whatever, Deidara’s buying me food, and the gang’s waiting. Speaking of which, let me see if I have any text messages.


“We’re at Amiche’s Italian restaurant on the corner of Ann and Duck’s Crossing. We’re at the back.”
-Shikamaru


“Hurry the fuck up, dude; I’m starving!”
-Kiba


“Naruto, bring your ass on. We’re all waiting for YOU!”
-Sakura


“Hurry up, before Sakura embarrasses all by eating all of the complimentary breath mints.
-Ino


“For every minute you’re not here after 6:30, I’m taking a dollar off your tab.”
-Deidara



I quickly glance at the time, and see that it’s ten after six, and my car is still in the parking lot by my dorm. Shit! Deidara does not play about being on time, and that bastard will totally make me pay a portion of my tab, if I’m not there by 6:30pm. I swear I’m getting ass raped today, with no condom or lubrication. When will it end?!


Author’s Note 2: There is one more chapter that will mark the conclusion of Naruto’s first day at college. After that, things should move much more quickly.