SugarCube's Monthly Random Contest!!

Based on the Daily Flash Fiction Challenge prompt from 12 November, which I never got to finish until now. It wouldn't have qualified for the other contest anyway, due to it exceeding the 300-word limit.

If this wins I'd like an awardicon please.

“It’s time to party, yeah?” announcing his presence before the common room with a kick against the door, Leroy waved at the residents of Turing Hall, prompting them to follow him outside. His audience, sprawled over couches and bean bags, groaned in response.

“What idiotic plan are you up to now, Leroy?” from the corner of the room, Micah rolled his eyes, while the others made assenting noises. Leroy’s “party” ideas had almost invariably ended in a disaster, and no one was in the mood to partake in any more of it. They have yet to succeed in banishing the rotten egg smell from the laundry area since last week’s antics.

Leroy barged into the centre of the lounge, hands folded. “Come on, you guys,” his eyes, huge and shining, displayed childlike innocence. “I really mean it this time. We’re actually having a party.”

Micah scrunched his nose in disbelief, but Jenny seemed to fall for this unconvincing pitch. “What party, Lee?” she asked curiously.

“Hey, Lee, those are some awesome stuff you got out there! Where did they come from?” Luke exclaimed into the window before Leroy could answer Jen.

Interests piqued by this newfound enthusiasm, Sam and Will peered out as well. Micah followed suit. He saw bags and boxes, filled with premium beef, wine bottles, charcoal, and fireworks, stacked around the barbecue pit.

Micah narrowed his eyes, as he imagined the possible ways those goodies could go waste. The meat would burn, the fireworks would blow up, someone would get drunk and wreak havoc ... And he refused to go along with Leroy’s antics, even when the rest filed out of the dormitory, while Leroy said something about a visit from a long-lost-cousin-once-removed who had just inherited great wealth…

Wanting to get as far away as he could from the commotion, Micah skulked back into his room, and turned on the stereo at maximum volume. The sweet smell of wood smoke followed him, and a myriad of colour flashed through his window, but Micah wouldn’t budge from the bed.

He bit his lower lip, his fingers tightened around the edges of his tablet, but he wouldn’t regret his decision to remain inside. They say that even monkeys fall from trees. But now, Micah supposed, the opposite could also be true—that even dunces can make something right, once in a while.