9 Days till the fall of Almadel

“But first, if you don’t mind I would need a single drop of blood from each of you” said Mrs Pooley, smiling reassuringly.

Dean’s leg-bouncing accelerated.

Trix glared at her, “You can’t be serious? Why?”

“Oh it doesn’t hurt, don’t worry. It is a standard practice here at Almadel for all new students. We keep them on file, in case you get hurt and we need to find donors, for example.”

“No way, I’ve never heard of such a thing.” said Trix.

Mrs Pooley pouted slightly and frowned “I’m afraid that I will need that one little drop if you wish to continue here at school with us. Unfortunately if you refuse to comply I will have to ask you to find another school.”

“Fine, I’ll go” said Trix. She turned to Dean “Come on, lets go. Something feels wrong”. She got to her feet.

“Go where? Your mother drove off already. Where do we go?” said Dean “it sounds sensible to me, it's just a drop, they do it for every student, right?”

Trix glared at him.

“Please Trix, I just want to get to my room.”

“You can’t just run away from everything, that’s not going to solve anything”

Mrs Pooley hadn’t said anything throughout their exchange, and was now pretending to read a document on her desk.

He could feel the anger seeping down through his body. He imagined it like a thick, sticky wave of golden syrup flowing over him. He had always been slow to anger, so each time that dam was broken it came as a surprise. He would watch with a mix of terror and excitement as some other aspect of himself seemed to emerge from the shadows, wrenching control from his hands for a few minutes.

“Can you just stop pushing pushing pushing for a second? Stop nagging!” Dean said. He noticed that his voice had risen in pitch. It was freeing, in a way, not worrying about consequences for a few moments, all the filters shutting down and all the bile spilling out. Those little thoughts, those tiny truths that you identify about a person, the things you know they believe about themselves --- his brain seemed to collect those, waiting for an opportunity to weaponise them. ‘You can’t just run away’ he thought, an excellent opening salvo. She picked that up from when I talked about my previous school, perhaps? Or maybe she just sees it in my face, sees that I am a coward. Words flashed through his mind, bitch, slut, ugly, horrible names to call her, ways to hurt her, his brain searching for the most powerful response to her attack.

“Are you for real, Dean? You’re so spineless. Stop just going with the flow all the time. It’s making me sad. People will take advantage of you” said Trix, her voice also rising.

Dean felt the anger in his belly now, hot roiling rage, how dare she. Spineless? It was perfect, a perfectly placed blow. He had thought the word so many times, how had she known? Of course she knew, everyone knew. It was obvious. Sad. Taken advantage of. They were true. Their truth enraged him further. His anger screamed at him that no! he was not spineless, he was a beast, a monster, he must destroy her. He let the anger take over, surrendered himself to its warm embrace. He saw himself reply, his teeth clenched and lip curled.

“Well at least they won’t hate me!” he hissed “I’d rather be a doormat than an annoying, friendless brat”.

Mrs Pooley was still pretending to read, but raised her eyebrows at that, breathing in sharply through her nose.

Dean saw that he had struck true. Trix reeled at his blow. She flushed and sat down, looking away from Dean. Staring at the door.

Immediately the anger faded. Going as fast as it had arrived. The feeling of power at having hurt his opponent that had thrilled him mere moments before seemed suddenly incomprehensible. Trix, who had seemed so strong, such a threat, now looked small and vulnerable. He felt ashamed, a blush rose to his face.

“Trix, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said...I didn’t mean it”

“Forget it. You’re right” said Trix flatly, “I don’t have any friends I guess”. She wiped her face. She still didn’t look at him, keeping her head turned toward the door to hide her tears. Instead she proffered an arm to the teacher “Go on then, take the lot, I hope I die. Show my stupid mother”.

The teacher smiled reassuringly again and produced a pin and two glass vials containing strips of blotting paper. She pricked their thumbs and let the single drop of blood soak into the tip of the blotting paper then stoppered the vials. She wrote their names on the vials in small, neat handwriting and dropped them back into her drawer. “Lovely!” she said, “let's get you to your rooms”.

Mrs Pooley now lead them back out to the main corridor and then through a grey fire-door to what Dean realized must be the large extension that wrapped around the back of the building.

The building was a essentially a long corridor, with a passage passing down the inside wall which was mostly windows and looked out onto the central courtyard that it enclosed. On the inner side of the passage were a great many doors, some were open and Dean could see other people of a similar age inside, chatting, putting away their things, or peering out at the two late-comers.

Trix was still ignoring Dean as they walked. He caught up with her and whispered “thank you for earlier, for not asking her about the thing”. She didn’t reply. “I know you really wanted to, so thank you.” Said Dean. She continued to look straight ahead. “It smelled of cloves, by the way.”

“What the hell are you talking about” Trix said, turning to look at him.

“The cat. You asked what it smelled of earlier, it smelled of cloves, at least I think so. Like those oranges studded with cloves people have at Christmas, that’s what it smelled of” said Dean.

“Cloves?” she stopped walking for a second.

“Yeah, cloves.”

“Wow” she smiled at him a little, “that’s fucking insane”

Mrs Pooley coughed loudly from ahead, and looked at Trix disaprovingly. Dean smiled back at her, noticing her eyes were still slightly puffy.

Mrs Pooley began explaining the layout as they walked, perhaps to avoid any more profanity “...this whole wing is the dormitories. I know It looks somewhat empty right now, but it will soon be a hive of activity. Only lower-sixth is here for now, upper-sixth arrives in two weeks, once you are all settled in. If you continue round you get to the north wing where you will find the activity rooms, then beyond that we have the science labs and a few more classrooms. If you continue on you would arrive back at the main school building. The whole school forms a square around the central courtyard you can see through the windows.”

The courtyard was empty of people. It was mostly grass, but dotted with a variety of different trees. One corner beside the main school building was dominated by an ancient yew. It was twisted and split, leaving a hollow center, and so old the new wings must have been built around it. The center of the courtyard was a still stone pond surrounded with comfortable looking wooden benches and herb bushes.

“Teacher offices and rooms are all in the main school building, as are many of the classrooms, the library and the mailroom.”

She stopped at a door. “Here we go Beatrix, this will be your room. I believe you will be rooming with Emma Sharp this year. Quickly get changed and join us back in the main hall. She unlocked the room and gave the key to Trix.

“By the way” said Mrs Pooley, “I heard from Jeremiah that you both arrived late because your parents thought the drop off time was two in the afternoon, is that right?”

“Yes, I think that’s what the letter said” said Trix. Dean nodded.

“Not ten in the morning? Definitely? How strange, how interesting.” Mrs Pooley frowned, then they left Trix to go into her room and continued down the corridor. A few doors further down they arrived at another unmarked door. Mrs Pooley produced a second key from her coat pocket and unlocked it, then gave the key to Dean. “I recall that you will be bunking with Wilbur” she said, “I do hope you get along."