10

“You’re… you’re kidding me, right?”

Tauren shakes her head, with a heavy wince pulling down her face.

“That’s probably the most idiotic thing I’ve ever heard.”

“I know, and that’s precisely why its ingenious. Qiara knows you… inside out, apparently. God knows who told her.” My mind unconsciously flickers to Rieka. That bitch. No, she’s still loyal to Zorikan. Somehow. “Which is why Northmarch High Academy for Prospering Youth is the absolute last place you would ever be.”

“How… that doesn’t even make sense…”

“You know it does, Kallix.”

I spit a string of all the curse words I can recall. “Say I was even going to agree to this, which I won’t, how would I even get in? Logistically, I mean. It’s the middle of the term, isn’t it? Prospering Youth? I’m the exact opposite of that.”

“Relax, there’re already a dozen strings I’ve pulled. I’ve faked all your past reports and recommendation letters. You’re a… pleasant student with fair grades, innovative ideas, good collaborative skills and a brief history of aggressiveness.”

“Collaborative skills? Are you insane?”

“No. Nor am I high. This is going to work, trust me.”

“No! No, what the hell? School is prison! School, hospitals and prison are all literally the same shit with different names.”

“And how many times have you been to the hospital?”

“Yeah, I only go unwillingly, and because if I don’t then I will literally die!”

“Then we’ve got the exact same case here,” she concludes with a grim smile.

“Ah shit,” I sigh, realizing that I’ve talked myself into a ditch.

“Great,” she says. I’m not sure if her enthusiasm is forced or not. “Your uniform will be delivered tomorrow, and you’ll move in day after that.”

I let out a long, exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. Tension flares up in my shoulder. “I hate you.”

She lets out a little giggle. “I know.”

“Wait, wait,” I call, just as she’s leaving. “I’ve got some demands first… before I go.”

She sits back down, taking my hand in her lap. “Of course.”

“Painkillers. A load of them. For my tension… the ones Kaloaan used to get me… and also more for my neck… it like, hurts a lot.”

Tauren upturns her eyebrows. “Does it now.”

“Like, oh my god Tauren you have no idea what I’m going through,” I say, putting on my best spoilt rich kid voice. “I can’t deal with this trauma, like I need these meds, like please, baby.”

She nods. “Don’t worry, I’ll get them.”

“And some LCD,” I call, just before she gets up again.

“Excuse me.”

“Yeah, just a little bid. I mean, its not like I’m going to be talking to anybody, so like…? Tripping a little bit will be my only pass time.”

“You’re very evidently the insane one here.”

“And a tiny bit of whiskey. Just a bottle. You can put it in one of those schoolboy things or whatever.”

“Kallix I’m not giving you whiskey to take to boarding school.”

“Ok, ok, fair. But the LCD, yeah?”

She sighs. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanksss.”

“Don’t thank me, idiot. I’m just trying to keep you freaking alive.”

“Well then putting me in school was the wrong-est way to go.”

“Just two weeks, think you can survive that?”

“The more LCD I get the better.”

She makes for the door, but stops, and turns over her shoulder. “Don’t get expelled.”

I shrug. “No promises.”

~

I swat Tauren’s hand away from my hair. “I’m not combing my hair.”

“Kallix, you’re going to a prestigious school for crying out loud.”

“No. I won’t. I refuse.”

“At least let me clean it! I can visibly see the dirt,” she says, leaning over the arm rest at the back of the limousine.

I lean out of her reach. “No.”

She sighs, rolling down her window. “We’re here.”

I slip out and shut the door gently behind me. Barron, her driver, gives me an awkward nod as I haul the black duffle-bag from the trunk. I reciprocate.

Tauren smiles at me as we both stand under the arched entranceway. “You look cute in the uniform.”

I make an exaggerated gagging gesture, looking down at the maroon uniform with golden lining. The most unnecessarily over the top piece of clothing I’ve ever seen.

“Ah, you must be miss Ksura,” a guard says, walking through the arch. “We’ve been awaiting the arrival of Mr….” he glances at a flash card in his hand, “Tallin Yuura.”

I let a smile flicker across my face.

“Alright then,” the guard proceeds. “Sorry, Ms. Ksura, but you cannot continue, students only. Sorry.”

“Oh it’s alright… Tallin will be perfectly fine.”

I glower at her.

“Goodbye,” she moans, burying me in her heavenly soft hug. I hug back, fiercer than I would’ve intended. “Be good, yeah.”

I grunt and turn away from her. I hate watching people leave.

The guard escorts me into the campus. Instantly I feel a creeping sense of dread and painful boredom crawling up my spine. I can see the sprawling infrastructure. Brick built classrooms next to a measly water fountain, just across from a drying sports field on which a multitude of students seem to be running around in a mob. They’re running so slowly it makes me dizzy.

“Right then, your dorm’s just over there,” the guard says cheerily, pointing to a building that’s three stories tall, yet somehow appears squat. “Go on, you’ll be able to get half an hour’s head start unpacking before the other boys arrive.”

I thank him and head for the building, crossing a group of snobby looking girls arguing heavily with a fossilized teacher.

A soft drizzle hits just as I enter the dormitory. The massive, gaping door seems like the toothless mouth of the giant beast I had escaped nearly four years ago, but only now it’s caught up to me, eager to swallow me whole.

I recall my room number. What was it, 212? 312? How are there even three hundred and twelve rooms here? I trudge up the battered stone steps, realizing that the two in two hundred and twelve means its on the second floor. Huh, dumbass. I crack the door open.

The taste of dust launches itself across my tongue and down into my lungs, erupting a coughing fit from my chest. I drop my bag on the bed and flick on the lights. It’s just a bed, cupboard and window-facing tiny desk, all cramped so close together that I can’t take a pace in any direction besides out the door. Fantastic.

I spend the next twenty minutes beating the dust out of the room, and sorting through the stuff Tauren’s packed for me. Dozens of jeans, hoodies, sweatpants and T-shirts. Everything’s blue, grey and black, just as I like it. Whatever I decree as useless gets chucked from the window. As I said, there’s no point in not littering since there’s no environment left to save.

Once I’m done tossing everything into the wardrobe and dumping the toiletries into the drawers, I flop back onto the stiff yet lumpy bed. My back is already sweaty. I close my eyes, and not ten seconds pass before I hear the dreaded unmistakable chorus of rowdy boys entering their dorm.

Oh, good god here it goes.

The door flies open, slamming against my cupboard and making me jolt.

“Eyyyy! New boy in the house!”

“Woop woop!”

“Shut up, he’s asleep!”

Ah shit. Turning social gears on now. “Huh?” I ask. “Oh, hi.”

“Hey! You’re a little lad aren’t you,” the boy leaning over me says. He’s got large, meaty arms, a handsome, filled out face and thin brown hair pushed aside. “What’s your name?” he asks, his voice thickly East Side.

“Uh, Ka…Tallin. Tallin Ksura.”

“Katallin? Name’s Davrin. Where you from?”

“No it’s just Tallin, and I’m from West Side. Good old, boring West Side.”

“What happened to his hair?” hollers somebody at the back of the musky crowd.

“Oh, shut up Feraq,” he hollers back. “But seriously dude, what happened?”

“Nothing. I just like it like this?”

“What?” Davrin asks, he plunges his hand towards me, rustling my hair. Instinctively I slap it away. “Duuuuude I can literally see the dirt!” he laughs.

The group erupts into laughter.

“Oi! Leave the boy alone!” cries an adult in a hoarse voice. Some sort of dormitory teacher or something.

“Aw, we’re just helping him settle in! He’s quite a small lad,” another boy hollers.

“Ha! Good one, Terrel!”

My shoulder throbs. There are a lot of people in here. Should’ve left the window open. Why are there so many people. So close. Move, shit I need to move.

“Hey, hey, you’re looking a bit stressed out, mate,” Davrin says, contorting his face into something that I think is supposed to imitate empathy.

What? What the hell am I even supposed to say to that? Why is he so close to me?

Laughter clatters against the tiny walls of my cell… room… shit… it’s like they’re bats, and the laughter is flapping around above me. Get out. Get out!

“Think we should let him settle in a bit,” the one called Feraq says. “He’ll come ‘round soon enough.”

“Don’t worry, Tallin,” Davrin reassures. “Feel right at home.”

I scrunch my eyes shut as they squeeze out and into the hallway. The instant they’re gone I let myself take a deep breath. Shit, the air tastes like armpits.

I open the window again and lean out. I’ve never been so grateful for the wet, smoggy, cold air of West Side. Heavy rain droplets splatter against my head. Dirty, screw that. My hair’s fine. Screw them. Screw this, who’s idea was this anyway? Tauren, god damnit why couldn’t I have just stayed at her home with her? That would’ve been fun! We could’ve chilled and watched movies and eaten good food and stuff.

I sigh into the evening.

There’s no sunset. The air is too carbon logged.

I would’ve missed the freedom anyway. Being in Tauren’s house would’ve meant that I could leave. Being cooped up in there, no matter how amazing, would tire me eventually and claustrophobia would envelope me. Sure as hell it’s already done that here but… this place? This… citadel…

I look across the playing fields and cafeteria and library to the stoic brick wall, with a two meter tall electric fence atop it. It glowers at me through the rain.

I can’t leave this place. That’s what matters here. I’m trapped. I’m in prison, but there’s no breaking out of this one.

~

Next greatest challenge; where on earth am I to sit?

I slow down, having been eager to get away from the barbaric line for food, but now find myself confronted with a plethora of daunting circular tables. Girls? Guys? Jocks? Geeks? All this shit is foreign to me. Go alone, that’s the plan. Always has been.

I weave through the tables and dodge past the degrading stares until I reach one of the few tables that isn’t crammed full of loudmouthed teens. I sit down, uncomfortable against the metal chair, and hunch over my food.

The water in my glass has more flavored than the mashed potatoes, beans, cauliflower and synthetic chicken on my plate. The obscene images and symbols carved into the table make it even harder to force the food down my throat. Jeez, the gangs and thugs in the outskirts are more civilized than this.

“Hi there,” says a girl, moving to sit with me. She’s got the typical high school pretty visage, with dark red hair that’s been perfectly straightened. Her perfume makes me gag. The centimeter thick makeup on her cheeks make me cringe.

Before I realize that I’m supposed to respond, Davrin slides up next to her.

“Oh hey, Tallin, c’mon let’s sit with him, Laila,” he says to the girl, who nods, eagerly.

“Actually, I’m fine. Sit with your friends,” I mutter.

Shit. Supposed to be keeping a low profile.

“Oh,” Laila says, likely surprised that there’s a soul in the world that wouldn’t want to sit with her. “Are you sure? You look so lonely.”

“C’mon Laila,” Davrin presses, “we shouldn’t bother him. Feraq saved us seats.” He links his arm into hers and steers her away from me.

Huh, they never wanted to sit here. At least Davrin didn’t.

It’s not long before another girl plops herself down, a quartile of the table away from me. Her hair is loose cut, and multiple leather bracelets dangle off her wrist. Her dark eyes catch mine. “Hey,” she nods.

I nod back, returning to my food. A minute passes, when I glance up at her, seeing her awkwardness festering behind her eyes. “What’s your name?” I ask.

“Arika,” she says, quickly.

Arika. That… Yarika? Yarika from the streets. She… she died on the streets that day. That cold damn day when I let her die. This… no, no way in hell. This isn’t her. Yarika was blonde and thin boned. This is certainly someone else. Whoever the hell they are, nearly taking Yarika’s name like that.

“Everything alright? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost,” she asks me, an indescribable expression on her face.

“Yea-” I choke. Water in my lungs. Shit.

Twenty seconds of coughing violently into my elbow passes before I blink back into my senses. Are my eyes red? I’m fine, right? I wipe my chin.

She looks like she’s about to laugh. “You are one awkward fellow,” she says, slowly. I can tell she isn’t trying to be mean, but still, awkward? Me? Ridiculous.

I shake my head. “Naw. Not usually.”

“New school anxiety.”

“Anxiety? I don’t do anxiety.”

She shrugs. “Everybody does. All that shit of being macho and strong and whatever? Dude, that’s like a hundred years old. Nobody cares. You’re thinner than the legs of these chairs anyway, it’s not like you’re going to appear strong.”

I stare at her, evenly.

“And what happened to your hair anyway?”

I exhale like a bull, and return to my food. Calm your damn self, you hotheaded, left-on-kettle. “Nothing.”

“So why is it so… wild? And dirty?”

“Because I like it like that.”

“What? Why?”

I shrug, still looking at my plate.

I’m not sure if I prefer the limping silence that makes its way between us, or the aggravating conversation that it chased away. Regardless, I finish my food well before her and stand up to leave.

As I’m going, she grabs my free hand, nearly making me drop my plate. “There’re a lot of bullies in this school.”

“So?”

“Make sure you don’t become one of them.”

I pull my hand from her. What the hell is wrong with people in this school? There’s no way in hell I’m going to survive this.