"Parlez-vous francais?"

"No, yo hablo español."

I let out a frustrated sigh. "Scott, come on. Try, please?" We had been at this for an hour, and he was still just getting the basics of simple one-syllable words down. The worst part about it all was his pronunciation. Scott's tongue was so used to pronouncing Spanish vocabulary that he was butchering the French language. "Comment t'appelle tu?"

Scott took a deep breath and tried his best, "Je m'appelle Scott."

I smiled. "Scott, I mean this in the nicest way possible. If you ever tried to go to France and speak, I fear the French population would run to the nearest tall building and jump off of it."

At least we could laugh about it. That was the only thing that was saving my evening. I had had another all-out brawl with Jordan earlier. He seems to think that the room is his room ... and his room only. He has Tiff in there all the time and frankly, half the time I don't even want to go in for fear of what state I'll find the two of them in. Getting Jordan to limit his "alone" time with Tiff was about as impossible as trying to get the fat lady to sing in the first pages of War and Peace. This evening's battle was about trying to put a signal on the doorknob so that I know that they're going at it.

"Clarke, I'm not gonna take time to put a goddamn signal on the door just to make you happy. Deal with it. I don't like this anymore than you do. Do you think I like dealing with you as a roommate?"

Jordan, just to irritate me, uses my first name. Did I mention that I despise him with a passion?

A snap of the fingers in front of my eyes brought me back to the present. "You're thinking about dink-boy again, aren't you?" Scott knew about Jordan's antics, and was quick to offer his room as solace.

"Yeah. Sorry. It just pisses me off that he gets away with it so often. Why can't I stand up to him?"

"Because his main goal in life is to make you squirm. I mean, he's already informed most of the campus about 'who you are'. He just wants to rattle you. I don't know why, but it's not worth the time trying to figure it out. Besides," he bit into a cracker and said with a mouthful, "he's not going to last much longer, anyway. Tiff may be great, but she can't get him to pass his tests."

Scott and I were making a good team. He was helping me to keep my grasp on sanity, and I was helping him to pass his French exams. Luckily for both of us, his roommate is seldom in his room so I can crash whenever I need to. My first few nights of the semester were spent on the couch in the meeting room but after suffering a major migraine from the smoke inhalation I was forced to endure, I broke down and knocked on Scott's door. He stood in the doorway with his mouth wide open. "What the Hell happened to you?"

"The couch happened to me. Jordan is spending 'quality time' with Tiff this evening, so I am banished to the couch."

Scott sniffed the air around me. "I can tell. The smoke eminating from your pillow would choke a horse. Please, feel free to burn that thing if you so urge."

We've been pretty inseparable ever since. Whenever we have free time, we are together as partners in crime.

The door swung open, and a raving maniac rushed in. "I cannot believe this! Do you know that the moron downstairs didn't recognize me? It's not like I'm new here, or anything."

"Could you not take the door off its hinges next time, please? Thanks," was Scott's sarcastic reply to this new visitor. She was tall, with long dark hair and dark features. A light clicked on in my head, and I made the connection. This was Sara, Scott's twin sister. Scott was munching down on the crackers I brought over, but in between bites he managed to haphazardly introduce us. "Sara. Ike. Ike. Sara."

Not that it meant anything, because as soon as she slammed the door when she entered she collapsed to the floor and started rummaging through a large duffle bag she brought with her. I heard a few muffled, "Damnit, where is it? I know I brought it. Ah! Got it." Her words grew clearer as her head emerged from inside the duffle bag.

"Sara, you know, you look like a schitzo. Could you please stop?"

He was met with a puzzled look. "What? You said you were going to rip my eyelashes out if I didn't return your damn Cake CD, so I wanted to make sure you got it."

They made a great pair. She was the outgoing, independent one while he was the calm, sane one of the two. Sara rushed forward while Scott walked quietly behind, soothing the bruised ego or hurt pride of his sister's victims. If Sara was around, you were most likely going to hear Scott's soothing voice, "that's just her way. She didn't mean it that way."

The dark haired dynamo finally slowed down enough to push the hair out of her face and introduce herself. "Hey, you must be Ike. Scott talks about you constantly. He says you're really good in French. Think you could be my best friend, too?"

I blinked my eyes for a second. "Uh... I guess so. Do you go to school here?"

"Scott didn't tell you about me?" She looked over at her brother and laughed. "I'm not surprised. I'm the black sheep."

Scott broke his cracker food fest to answer. "I didn't want to scare him away, Big butt."

And so began my life as the go-between for these two opposites. "Can't really blame you there, Chicken legs," Sara shot back at her brother. I just stared in wonder as these two seemlingly mature people traded juvenile insults back and forth. "You keep eating like that and you're going to look like Buddha."

Without missing a beat, he replied, "You would know."

The evening went along pretty much that way. I tried to keep order by throwing out simple French phrases, but they were met by childish insults. Don't get me wrong, these two love each other more than any two siblings I know, but they don't usually like to show it.

Finally, as the evening was slowing down, I attempted to make a quick exit. Scott looked at me like I had three heads. "Why are you leaving? You asked to stay tonight."

My cheeks turned red. "Well, since Sara showed up, I didn't think you'd have room." I didn't want to overstay my welcome, or make it uncomfortable for Sara.

Sara didn't seem to care who was in the room, and proceeded to strip off her overshirt. Scott didn't seem to mind; he was too busy finishing off the crackers. When Sara started to change out of her T-shirt I grabbed my French book, mumbled a thank you, and ran for the door.

For once in my life, I had nowhere to sleep. I wasn't about to go back to my room and get another verbal lashing from Jordan, so I headed for the lounge. Unfortunately for me, the room was half-filled with people milling around. I didn't have a car or money, so I was stuck until everyone decided to leave the room.

While trying to map out my course of action, I felt a hand on my arm. A voice at my side said, "Isaac, why don't we take a walk." Sara pulled on my arm and headed for the door. She had changed into oversized Pooh pajamas, but didn't seem to care. The night air was cool, but not cold enough to worry about getting sick. Sara pointed to a short brick wall and sat down. She took a deep breath and started on her monologue. "Scott and I grew up in army bunkers. Space was very limited most times, so we just learned to make due. Changing in the same room was never a big deal. Scott is a very shy person, and I'd hate to have my inhibitions ruin your friendship. I am a very open person with a big mouth. If that scares you, then I'll limit my time over here. Scott and I haven't had the easiest life, as I know he's told you."

Scott had mentioned the verbal and emotional abuse that he and his sister endured from their high-ranking military father.

She started to play with the cuffs on her shirt. "I'm sorry if I'm too obnoxious for you," she mumbled. "I know I can be, but that's just the way I am. Scott balances me out a lot. All I really wanted to say was I'm sorry I scared you. I didn't mean to; it's just the way I am." She sat back on her hands and looked up into my eyes. "Just don't make Scott pay because of me."

I had to stop myself from gaping at her. I couldn't believe she would think I would end my friendship with her brother just because she took her overshirt off. I wondered how much damage their father could have done, making them be so insecure. Scott wore his insecurity on his sleeve, but Sara hid hers underneath her loud exterior. I blinked my eyes a few times trying to search for how to respond. "Sara... uh... I... ju-..." I had to stop and regroup for a moment. "I just didn't want you to feel embarrassed about me being in the room. I-... I... just didn't want to stand there gawking at you while you changed clothes."

Sara laughed, and I saw that a few tears has escaped her eyes. She brushed away the tears and giggled. "I keep forgetting, you're a Southern gentleman."

I could feel the wall around her build back up. She was done showing herself, and built her defenses back up. I sat there, thinking of what to do next when it was decided for me.

Sara curled up against my side and put her head against my shoulder. "So, if you're happy being Scott's friend, do you think you could be my friend, too? I promise to try not to embarrass you too much."

I couldn't believe this girl. It seemed like she'd walk through fire for her brother, but she was crumbling against me, asking to be my friend. "Considering you just got boogers all over the sleeve of my shirt, yeah, I think we could be friends."

She laughed. "Sorry, I couldn't find a tissue."

I crinkled my nose. "You're disgusting."

She laughed some more. "You love it."

She was right. I did love it. She was fast becoming one of my best friends. We walked back into the dorm with the understanding that everything she threw at me, I'd be waiting for. Sara was loud and obnoxious, but she'd lay down her life for a friend without even thinking twice. "So, who is this roommate of yours I keep hearing about?"

I outwardly cringed. "Oh, man! Jordan! He is the worst ... creature I've ever met. He's also a chauvinist pig. I feel bad for his girlfriend; she takes all his crap. He never cleans up after himself, and constantly puts everyone else down."

"What's he in for?"

I was confused. "In for what? Huh?"

She laughed. "No one can follow my train of thought. You'll get used to it. I meant what is he studying? He plays an instrument, right?"

"Yes, he plays the bass guitar. Not that well, I might add. Likes to think of himself as the new Jimmy Page, and really kills it. He got in as a favor, I fear. His mother must've been so happy to be rid of him 'cause I overheard her in the hallway telling his father 'We're free. We're finally free.' That says a lot." I looked down at her as we started up the stairs. She had a sparkle in her eye and a devilish grin on her face. This was bad. Very bad. "What are you thinking about?"

I would soon learn that getting on the wrong side of Sara's anger was the very worst thing for a person. "I'm in the mood for a fight, and I think Jordan is just the person to give me one."

I just went along with it. I showed her my room and slipped the key in the door. On the other side of the wooden door, we heard the rustle of sheets and a few muttled curses. Sara walked right in like she owned the place, "So this is where you live, hun?"

I walked in more timidly behind her, waiting for Jordan to strike out. "Uh... yeah."

Jordan came off the bed with a flimsy sheet around his waist. "Jesus Christ, Clarke! Can't you learn to fucking knock?!?!"

Sara smiled to me and turned to the sound of the voice. "I'm sorry. We haven't met. I'm Sara Collins. Isaac is a very good friend of mine."

"Too bad for you," he haroophed.

She turned to me and said, "Not even kind enough to insult a good friend of mine behind my back. Sickening." She turned on him like a knowing cat. "I believe his name is Isaac. Why do you address him otherwise?"

Poor Jordan didn't even know what was coming. He actually looked bored. "His name is Clarke."

"I don't believe that's his name at all." I started to interrupt and tell her that, in fact, my name was Clarke, but she held up her hand to stop me. She looked so innocent in her oversized pajamas; little did we know that underneath those flannel pajamas she was vicious. "He asked me to call him Isaac. Didn't your mother tell it was rude to go against people's wishes?"

"Listen, just get out okay? As you can see, I have a guest here and we were in the middle of something, so if you'd please leave..."

Jordan actually thought he was going to get away with that. Sara moved right past him and moved on to Tiffeny. "Excuse me, but I believe that your night is over. You can pick up your clothes and leave now. Isaac wants to sleep, and I doubt that he'll get that with the two of you going at it all night. Play the celibate for the evening and hit the road."

Jordan grabbed her arm and I thought she was going to level him. It didn't take a genius to figure that she kept herself in very good shape, and she could probably take Jordan without much effort. Sara played it cool. "If you don't let go of me NOW, I'll make you eat each of those five fingers."

Jordan was momentarily stunned and pulled his hand away. "Tiff, out. It's over for now. I'll call you in the morning."

Tiffeny pulled her flimsy dress over her head in a darkened corner of the room and scurried out the door.

Jordan turned on Sara as soon as she was out the door. "Listen you fucking slut, if you fucking talk to her or me that way again I'll fucking knock your head off your shoulders."

Sara turned her excited eyes back to me. "My, he likes that F word, doesn't he?" She folded her arms across her chest and settled in for round three. "You mean you didn't like my 'eating your own fingers' comment? I thought it was quite good myself." She stepped forward. "Listen you piece of shit. I don't care who the hell you're screwing on your own time, but this is Isaac's room too, and if you don't knock it off I'll do more than make you eat your fingers. I take care of my friends, and I don't appreciate you making him sleep on the filthy couch while you're in here boinking half the Goddamn campus."

Jordan was not about to give up that easily, but before he could argue Sara was at it again from a different angle. "I don't think you're aware of who I am. My name is Sara C-o-ll-in-s," she enunciated her last name. "Collins as in Major General Steven Collins, Commander to most of the armed forces in the country. I wouldn't expect a peabrain like you to put two and two together so quickly, so I'll spell it out for you. I am his baby girl. If you touch me, you'll be lying across muddy trenches in Botswana with malaria-riddled mosquitos just waiting to bite your flabby ass faster than you can blink. Do you understand?"

Jordan actually laughed. "You can't do that to me. My father's got more money than you could even imagine."

She grinned that evil grin. "You think money is going to be able to buy you out of getting drafted into basic training? I don't think so. My father was in Vietnam, shithead. You think he's gonna let you live after I tell him that you grabbed me? Think again, pal. That ain't the way it works."

Jordan backed off just out of pure confusion. He was weighing his options and trying to decide whether Sara was the real thing or not. He got a cocky grin on his face, put his hands on his hips and said, "Prove it."

Those were his last words because before even I knew it, Sara leveled him. She swung her leg up to connect with his side, and before he could fall she landed a strong punch into his gut. As he fell forward, her palm connected with the underside of his jaw and he was on the floor. Standing over him she said, "My godfather is an elite Navy Seal. Screw with me, and I'll fuck you up. Got it?"

She moved back across the room and smiled at me. "Ready?" she asked. "I'm in the mood for ice cream all of a sudden. There has to be something to eat around here."

I was flabbergasted. I had never seen anyone fight like that. Girl or boy. "Uh... yeah, I think there's an ice cream store down the street." As we were leaving the room I asked, "Shouldn't we get him some ice or something?"

"He asked for it. I only gave him what he wanted. He asked me to prove it. I am trying to curb my language, though. I swear too damn much." She stopped in the hallway. "Oh! Did you need something from the room?"

"No, I just wanted to see you fight with Jordan. I got what I wanted, and more. Next time though, I'll bring a lawn chair and some popcorn to catch the action."

She laughed. "You crack me up! I was just helping. I hate bullies." She was back to her innocent look. This girl was definitely a handful.

We got back to Scott's room to find him looking painfully out the window. "Where have you guys been? It's been over an hour!"

Sara laughed. "Scott, you're always so serious. We met up with Isaac's roommate and his girlfriend, and went out for ice cream."

Scott turned to look at her. "You can't lie, Sara. Who did you fight with?" I wondered how he knew she was in a fight. She didn't have any outward signs, and we hadn't told him.

"I didn't fight, actually. I just showed Jordan some of the moves I learned from Uncle Jim."

"Your knuckle is red and you're limping on your left foot. Isaac still has to live with him, Sara. He's not going to take kindly to getting beat up by a girl."

Sara rolled her eyes. "I'll handle him. Just stop, okay? I'm tired and I want some sleep. Isaac I'll take the floor if you want to sleep on-" she pointed to Scott's roommate's bed, "his bed, if you want."

"I'll sleep on the floor. It's okay. You can sleep on his bed," I told her. It was the least I could do after she beat up Jordania.

She turned to look up at me. "What are you nuts? Sleep in some stranger's bed? God only knows what's crawling in it." She shuddered for extra dramatic effect.

Scott took the role of moderator. "Both of you can sleep on the floor. I have an early class in the morning so just sleep. No late night chit-chats."

Sara rolled her eyes again, "Yes... MOM! You really are boring. How does Isaac put up with you, anyway?"

I was laying on the floor, trying not to feel the hard wood under my back. Sara moved next to me and turned over toward the wall. She snuggled under her blanket more, and I envied her her preparedness for bringing a pillow and blanket. I heard a voice from beneath the blanket. "Isaac, if you sigh again I'm gonna make you sing soprano for a week." She peeked her head out from underneath. "Why can't you sleep?"

I rolled over to face her. "Nothing. Just can't sleep."

"Liar. I'm sure the fact that you're on the cold floor with nothing to cover you doesn't help. If you didn't treat me like the plague, you could share the blanket with me. I am on the rug, you know."

"I know. I'm fine. I'm just too awake to sleep."

She muttered to herself and rolled her eyes. "Get over here, will you?" She pulled my arm until I was situated under the blanket. She rolled over so that our backs were to each other. "Now get some sleep!"

I waited a few moments before I spoke. "Thank you for... uh... beating up on Jordan for me. He can be a real jerk."

She laughed. "Think nothing of it. As long as you don't get all manly and start getting pissed because I beat him up and you didn't, I'm all set."

I smiled. "I won't. Thanks."

"No problem." She wiggled her butt against mine, and nestled under the covers.