I have t0 do 2 peer reviews for my classmates they are attached about 300 words

My Roommate Sammy - Zakria Riyaz

My parents came from a ridiculously wealthy family , with sources of income that I

couldn't count on two hands. They were wealthy, to say the least, but they were not good parents.

They sent me to a boarding school in Switzerland in the summer of 2008 when I turned 15,

claiming they wanted me to become independent and travel the world on my own. I can’ t say I

believed their reasoning, but I didn’ t mind the idea. My first day at "Success Academy" told me

all I needed to know about this place. Everyone I met was a mini version of my parents: rich,

selfish, and snobby . The school boasted about alumni who went on to become world leaders, star

athletes, famous musicians, and so on, but none of that made sense to me given the people I was

currently surrounded by . I was what you would call a scrawny kid. I weighed less than what half

the guys in my gym class could bench, and I didn’ t quite have supermodel looks, nor was I smart

in any sense of the word. Needless to say , I had no hope of leaving this school and becoming one

of their honored alumni.

In our first week at Success Academy, we were assigned a roommate. I got partnered up

with an absolute unit of a man, a true specimen of masculinity , you might say. His name was

Sammy . He was about 6 feet tall with the build of a rugby player and had a face that was

pleasing to look at, to say the least. A part of me couldn’ t believe he was the same age as me and

the complete opposite of me. What really tipped me off about this guy was that not only did he

have the looks and build, but he also had the brains to back it up. To get into Success Academy,

you had to take an entry test in which they categorized students into intellect levels. Let's just say

I was in the bottom ten, and Sammy , well, there was a rumor going around the school that he was

the top freshman in the class this year .

I loathed his very existence because he was better than me at everything, but one day I sat

down and thought about the absolute upper hand I would have in the school if I were his friend. I

don’ t think Sammy felt the same way about me because anytime I would try to talk to him, he

wouldn’ t say anything back. I tried countless times to even hear a word out of his mouth, but he

always had this serious look on his face, like he would kill me if I tried to get any closer . I gave

up after the first three weeks of trying and moved on to my next plan. I knew I couldn't continue

as a loner and punching bag at this school, so I set out to meet new people.One of the worst ideas

I ever had was trying to befriend the boys in my gym class. They didn’t just shut me out like

Sammy . When I tried approaching them, they laughed and mocked me for even trying. I was

stupid enough to utter the words "I know why you all are so hard-headed, because you were

probably dropped on your heads as kids" right to their face. Needless to say , I was beaten into a

pulp. I was taken to the school's infirmary , where they had to patch up a few stitches on my face

because of how badly I had been beaten. I knew the teachers, and everybody saw what they did

to me, but the whole gang of hooligans—three to count—did not face any repercussions. I tried

to call my parents back home to settle this issue with the dean of the school, but they couldn’ t

even care to answer or shoot a text back. I accepted the fact that their parents were most likely

very high up the food chain and could get their delinquent children out of trouble whenever they

needed to.

I walked to my dorm with two crutches and a bruised face after three days in the hospital.

I walked in the door , and needless to say , I wasn’t at all excited to see Sammy in the room. As I

walked right past him and into my side of the room, he was sitting on the side of his bed. "How

many were they?" Those were the first words I had ever heard come out of Sammy’ s mouth, but

I didn’ t reply, and why should I have when he never replied back to me? "Why couldn't you stay

quiet like that when they were making fun of you... maybe if you had stayed quiet, you wouldn't

have ended up like that," Sammy sneered. I replied, "Because idiots like them need to hear the

truth." Sammy came up towering above me, looking over my body to analyze the damage that

had been done. "If you could, would you make sure they ended up in a wheelchair like yourself?"

Sammy asked. I didn't know why he was asking me all this, but for the first time in my life, I felt

like someone was genuinely showing me a slither of concern. I replied, "If it were up to me,

they’d never be able to walk again." Sammy nodded and exited the room, and we never uttered

another word to each other for a week after that. Then came the day when I no longer needed the

crutches to walk. I walked into gym class only to notice that the hooligans were not present. It

didn’ t matter to me; I wasn’ t scared of them, and I figured they were probably out skipping class

like the delinquents they were. It was later in the day that the whole school was disrupted by the

sounds of police sirens across the campus. We later found out that the gang of hooligans had

been brutally beaten up by some masked vigilante in the school. According to rumors, they were

so terrified after the incident that they couldn't even speak. While the entirety of the school was

in deep sorrow , I was dancing on the inside. It was about time they got what they deserved.

A few weeks pass by after the incident, and life is good until I find a mask underneath

Sammy’ s desk in the room. I wouldn't have thought anything else of it had I not seen a few

streaks of blood on the mask. I knew then that Sammy was involved. I waited in the room for

Sammy after the school day was over so I could confront him about this. I didn’ t care that the

hooligans had been beat up, but I didn’ t support what Sammy had done, nor did I know why . As

soon as Sammy walked through the door , he saw the mask on his bed. "What—where—what are

you doing with that?" Sammy asked. I didn’ t reply because he knew the answer to his own

question. "Listen, you didn't tell anyone about this, right?" Sammy questioned. I didn't want to

answer any of his questions because I was going to be the one asking them. I replied, "Why’d

you do it?" Sammy closed the door behind him and put his head down as he replied, "I wanted to

help." A deep silence filled the room, only to be broken by me. "Help me! You don’ t even know

me!" I exclaimed. Sammy went over to his backpack in the closet, pulled out a picture of his

older brother , and handed it to me.

W e talked that night, and I found out a lot about Sammy . I discovered that his older

brother , Frank, went to this school three years ago. He was the smartest student in his class, but

he was going through depression. One day , a couple of the students picked on Frank when he

was having one of his worst episodes of depression. They beat him up as a joke, but Frank went

to his room that night and never woke up. He had overdosed on his depression medication. His

last words were to Sammy through a text message that read, "Sammy , I wish I could be strong

like you, but I'm not. I wish I could keep fighting, but I can’ t. I love you. Please never stop being

you and always help those that cannot help themselves." The first time I ever saw Sammy cry

was when he was reading his brother ’s text to me. He told me that he saw Frank in me and that it

didn’ t sit right with him that the delinquents who beat me up were walking unphased by their

actions. He had to teach them a lesson, not for my sake or for his own, but for Frank’ s sake. I'm

no angel myself; I didn’ t care if the world gained three new cripples so long as they wouldn’ t

hurt anybody else. Sammy and I decided to keep this between ourselves, and we never spoke

about the incident again.

That incident taught me alot about Sammy . I later found out that like his brother,

he also suf fered from depression. I am not certain if that truly justified his ghosting of me

whenever I tried to talk to him but I never thought too much of it. I could only sympathize with

him for what he had to go through but he could empathize with me on another level. He saw his

brother in me and I didn’ t know how to feel about that. I didn’ t want things to be awkward

between us but I just couldn’ t shake the fact that he might have viewed me as a brother all this

time while I viewed him as a stuck-up loser until that incident. I came into the school looking to

make new friends but in the crowd of hundreds of stuck-up and selfish brats, Sammy stood out.

He had a purpose and a reason to be successful. He was someone I began to look up to. Even

after the incident, our convos were short-lived and those that resembled the conversations of two

strangers but there was a sense of friendship behind them that the naked eye could not see. When

my own parents neglected me to the point where they couldn’ t even text or call back, Sammy

was there for me.