9 Days till the fall of Almadel

The family Volvo turns off the A-road onto a gravel path. They have been driving through open fields for the last half hour, but are now surrounded on both sides by tall beech trees. The path curves left and right as they climb upwards away from the road. Eventually they emerge from the trees onto the crest of the hill. A large opening in the woods. To one side, the land falls away to reveal the sea. In the middle of the clearing rises Almadel Academy.

Salomé squinted, mentally, trying to pull the view into focus. So close to Almadel the little car appeared blurred, wavy. Like it was far away on a very hot day. She willed it closer and the scene wheeled and spun and grew larger.

A three story building of red and yellow brick. A staircase in the center leads up to a huge wooden door. The building is somewhat asymmetrical, as though the architect had tried to use a different size of window for each and every room. A more modern extension sprouts out of both sides of the main building and wraps around the back to enclose a courtyard. It looks more like a manor house than a school, and nothing like the large steel and glass building housing the school Dean had been attending up until now.

Her viewpoint dropped, soaring down toward the now stationary car, stopping in a tree a few feet away. She could hear their voices now, muffled through the skin of the car.

“Here we are!” says Dean’s mother, brightly “doesn’t it look wonderful? Sort of like a baby castle!”

“Barely darling” says her husband, “there’s not even a curtain wall”

“This still feels like a punishment” Dean says. He sounds unhappy. They hadn’t passed another car in miles, the nearest village was a good twenty minutes down the road and only had a few rows of houses and a tiny corner shop.

His father turns around in his chair “look Dean, this really is an incredible opportunity. The results this school gets are amazing, you should see some of the people who have graduated from this place --- to get a scholarship on top of that is, well, more than we should expect. It can’t be worse than the last place, with everything that happened...surely” he trailed off awkwardly.

“I guess” Dean says, “but I won’t know anybody...and what will I do on the weekends? There is literally nothing to do around here.”

“You can go to the beach! The sea is right over there!” says his mother.

“It’s like...September” says Dean and falls back into his chair “forget it, we’re here now anyway”

Salomé smiled, he is just as she predicted. Weak and afraid of conflict now, but with a strong sense of responsibility, and a deep vein of narcissism and frustration beneath the surface. He would be easy to mold into her desired form.

“Look, just try and make the most of the experience” says his father as he unbuckles his seat belt “we’ll help you get settled in, and we’ll see you at half term, aren’t you excited to get some independence from your parents?” he hesitates, frowning “but don’t do anything stupid, just because we’re not around”.

They all get out of the car and Dean’s father is just pulling a suitcase out of the boot when a dirty black Jaguar with a scratch down the left side drives up to the school. “This must be another new student” says his mother and waves at the woman in the driver's seat. The car stops without turning off the engine and a girl hops down from the tall car with a duffel in one hand and a backpack in the other. She slams the door and the car spins around, sending up a cloud of dust from the gravel drive and disappearing down the path through the woods at speed. The girl ignores Dean’s family entirely and walks straight for the front door of the school where she drops her bags. There is a long black chain next to the door. She heaves on it and the faint sound of a bell ringing can be heard inside. Following her lead, the Duncans also approach the door where they stand a few meters back, hesitant to approach further. The girl looks back at Dean, her eyes travelling slowly from his head down to his shoes. Dean has thin brown hair that curls slightly when long. It is shoulder length and tied in a ponytail. He is wearing a battered black fleece over a grey tee-shirt, jeans that are fraying around the pockets, and converses with a hole in the left sole. She turns back to the door with an air of finality, as though Dean was just thoroughly interrogated and found wanting.

She willed herself closer again, the viewpoint spinning back up into the air, soaring toward the building and finding a perch not far from the door where she could peer down at the two children. She studied them like a child who has just been given a new toy, and is clutching it excitedly in their hands on the way home, trembling with anticipation.

After an awkward minute of waiting the door is flung open by an extremely tall middle-aged man. He is wearing shorts, a short-sleeved shirt, a woolen sleeveless jumper and a bow tie. He has a mess of curly hair sitting on top of his head. He looks like a praying mantis.

“Oh damnation. New students.” he says, looking rather disappointed. “I thought my delivery was here.” He peers out at them through the open door, suspiciously. “You are late, you know. I guess you should come in, I’ll take you to Mrs Pooley.” He stands back to hold the door open and gestures to enter, his lanky body fills much of the doorway so that the only way through is under the arm he is holding the door open with. Behind him they can see a wide tiled entrance way leading into a corridor, lined on either side with doors, the walls covered with paintings and dusty shelves.

Dean and the girl walk uncomfortably under his outstretched arm, barely needing to duck, Dean’s father starts to follow but the man shifts to block their way. “No parents I’m afraid, for insurance reasons. Not to mention that you are late, we must get them to assembly right away”

Dean's father begins to protest “I’m sure we aren’t late. The letter you sent clearly said to arrive at two in the afternoon, if it's not too much bother, we'll just see him to his rooms--”

“No, no! No parents. Strict rules. All in the contract you signed. Please go. I can’t stand here all day holding this door.”

"Well of course, but surely we could just--"

"No!"

Mr and Mrs Duncan have a quick under-their-breath angry-whisper conversation with each other beneath the tall man's glare. “well I really don't see why--” “yes I know but we did sign--” “talking to him on the telephone is not the same--” before agreeing that Dean should come quickly outside for a hug after which they would go.

“Be sure to call us tonight, once you’re settled in” says his mother

“I love you, son.” Says his father.

“Sure, bye. It’s fine” says Dean, glancing at the girl out of the corner of his eye.

The goodbyes complete, the tall man turns to them “What are your names?” he asks them.

“Dean Duncan”, says Dean

“Beatrix Jenson” says Trix

“I am Jeremiah. I teach a number of subjects here, History and so forth, so I’m sure we will have time to get to know each other, but not right now! I must get back to my office. Let us rush you to the head teacher at once. You are really quite late.”

He closes the door behind them and there is the sound of a deadbolt being thrown shut.

Salomé blinked as the vision vanished, cut off by their entry into the school. She licked her paw and carefully washed her face, soothing her tired eyes, dry and itching from being held open for so long. She must prepare now, a terrible effort will be needed for the next step, pain beyond imagining, yet she could not miss this opportunity. She stretched and yawned, arching her back as she changed position for the first time in hours. Time to prepare a welcome for her chosen two.