FictionPress.com - let the words flow
| FictionPress.com - let the words flow |
|
| Home Just In Communities Forums Beta Readers Dictionary Search | Login Register Extras |
It was a bit less than a week after the Monday night in November that his mother had gone on her tirade and now Jeremiah would soon find himself standing at the gates of Blairewood Boarding School for Boys. Feeling hopeless and more abandoned than ever, he walked alone on the gravel road with duffel bag in hand and a bass guitar slung over one shoulder. His mother had sent him all the way from Iowa to the coast of Oregon by private bus (sent by courtesy of the school) where he then took a ferry to a small island not at all far from the mainland. The island was just large enough to fit a small town and was covered in hills and trees. A gravel pathway weaved through the forest that surrounded the school campus and Jeremiah followed that path, a cigarette held between his lips casually as he enjoyed the afternoon sunlight that cascaded the path.
Why was he here? He couldn’t believe his mother had forced him into this. It was the last thing he needed. The least she could have done was send him to a local school. He had been cast out from his band and was forced to quit his job. What now? All he seemed to have left now were the few possessions he carried in his duffel bag, his guitar, and his cigarettes.
Through the thick foliage of the surrounding trees, Jeremiah saw a brick wall of some sort not far ahead. As he neared the colossal walls and the pair of iron gates he flicked away the remains of his cigarette.
As the black-haired teen neared the gates in an attempt to peer inside, the iron-barred barriers split and swung inward to admit him. It was as he was taking a backward glance that he was hailed by a voice.
“You are Jeremiah Sechaida, I presume?”
Jeremiah was rather shocked to find a man standing just feet before him… He hadn’t been there two seconds ago! The man was relatively short in stature, though nonetheless seemed to hold a commanding air and aura of respect. He was clad in a blue suit, looking as though he were prepared for a formal dinner. He was probably in his mid-forties as his light brown hair was certainly thinning. Adjusting the thin-framed spectacles on his nose, he seemed to regard Jeremiah as though he a disgraceful speck of dirt as he awaited a response.
Jeremiah nodded, showing little regard for the man’s sudden appearance. “Yeah, I am.”
The man’s thin lips seemed to curl slightly in disgust at the response as he eyed the piercings that adorned the teen’s lips. “Well, Jeremiah, welcome to Blairewood, I am Headmaster Marrion, son of the founder of this institution. If you’ll follow me, I will show you to your dormitory and then you will be permitted to have a look around the campus. This way, if you will.”
With a light beckon for Jeremiah to follow, the man turned on his heel and started off down the gravel path. As Jeremiah moved to comply with the man’s request, he took one last glance at the world outside of the walls before the iron gates closed behind him.
As they walked, the headmaster explained regulations and rules. Jeremiah was a bit more interested in the scenery as he gazed at the green lawns, large trees, and well-kept shrubbery… And much more importantly how his mother had managed to afford to send him here. He caught most of what was said, however.
“Class will be held Monday through Thursday from eight am to four pm. During these days you will not be allowed off of school grounds and you will be required to wear school uniform throughout the day. On weekends you may wear whatever you please. On weekends you will also be able to leave the school campus to visit the town to the north provided you are back by eight pm. After that time the gates will close for the rest of the evening and on Sundays they will lock until next weekend. Tardiness will result in detention. Detentions will be served in classroom 101 after school hours or on weekends.
As far as classes go you will have math, language arts, history, science, physical education, as well as a study hall and a class of your choice. You can choose this class after you are settled into your dormitory. As far as supplies go your teachers will tell you what you will be needing and it will be supplied.”
As Jeremiah followed after the headmaster he took in the scenery. The campus lawns were lush and green and well-trimmed. Trees of many varieties dotted the rolling hills that made up the interior of the grounds. Before him was a large hill at the top of which stood a huge brick structure. The building seemed well-kept and displayed a regal Victorian-era style. To his left stood a smaller building that appeared to be a greenhouse, this building also seemed to mimic the Victorian style. They were truly a wondrous sight, but their beauty was lost on Jeremiah as he felt the urge to light another cigarette. As if reading Jeremiah’s mind, Headmaster Marrion continued speaking.
“Oh and there will be no smoking, tobacco chewing, or any such activities permitted on school campus, so I will have to ask that you hand over any cigarettes or tobacco you may have on you… I’m quite sure I saw you having a little smoke before you entered. I should hope I won’t have to confiscate any paraphernalia,” he added and although Jeremiah could not see his face, he could sense a sneer occupying the man’s features.
Shit. While Jeremiah had no brought drugs of any sort he had certainly brought a large sum of cigarettes. There was no way this man was going to confiscate them. He would never survive! How else would he relieve his stress? All the headmaster had to do was take a quick search of the duffel bag and he would find every last one of Jeremiah’s precious cigarettes. He wouldn’t stand for it.
“You’re not taking my cigarettes,” he stated flatly, shooting a glare at the man ahead of him.
The man halted suddenly, causing Jeremiah to nearly collide with him. Turning, the headmaster looked up at the defiant teen that glared hatred at him.
“Aren’t I? And just who is going to stop me?” he asked coolly. “You are on my property and you are under my charge. You will do as I say, Mister Sechaida.”
Jeremiah shook his head. “You can’t, I’m not gonna—“
“Can’t I? What’s more important Mister Sechaida? Your cigarettes? Or the rest of the contents of your bag? I can take one or the other,” the headmaster replied, giving a nasty smirk.
Jeremiah fell silent. Damn him. Already he had a strong dislike for this man. He couldn’t believe his mother had done this to him. It was all thanks to her that he was standing here with a man that seemed to have a stick jammed up his ass. It was her fault he now had to choose between his belongings and his addiction. He knew better though, no matter what the headmaster would be taking the cigarettes. There was little he could do.
With a satisfied smile, Headmaster Marrion gave a curt nod. “You’ll be giving me your cigarettes as soon as we reach your dormitory.”
As Marrion turned on his heel and continued down the gravel path, Jeremiah followed quietly; resisting the urge to shove a steel-toed boot up his rear end. The thought amused the teen to no end.
They passed the huge building on the hilltop. Once they had reached the summit of the hill Jeremiah could see all that lay beyond it. At the bottom of the slope lay two buildings that were very similar to the one atop the hill as far as the Victorian style went, but they were smaller in size. Between the two buildings was a sizable lake that shimmered in the afternoon sunlight. The building to the left of the lake was smaller in size than the one to the right. The headmaster led Jeremiah toward the building to the right.
As they descended the slope an idea came to Jeremiah. It was as he was feeling the need to pull a cigarette from the carton in his pocket that this strange little scheme came to mind. The simplicity of it almost made him laugh. Perhaps he could save his cigarettes after all… Or some of them, at least. It was a bit risky, but it would be well worth it to try…
Holding his duffel bag under one arm, he used his free hand to quietly grasp the zipper; all the while keeping a wary eye on the headmaster to be sure he didn’t turn to look back. Painstakingly, he slowly pried the bag open a bit. The headmaster carried on briskly down the gravel path with his newest student in tow, oblivious to the deceitful actions taking place behind his back.
Jeremiah slowly slipped his fishnet-encased hand into the opening of the bag, and it wasn’t hard to find and withdraw a carton of cigarettes. Taking a quick glance to his left, he suddenly flung the carton with as much speed and silence as possible. The carton landed in the grass a fair distance away, the white packaging standing out against the green. After noting where the carton had fallen, Jeremiah cast a fleeting look at the headmaster. He hadn’t noticed a thing. Perfect. Hopefully, if no one found these by the time he was able to roam free of supervision, he would be able to retrieve them.
So as the progression down the slope continued, so did Jeremiah’s scheme. Pack after pack he whipped them off to the left of the path. As they neared the building he quickly zipped the bag back up as the headmaster looked back at him.
“Here we are: the dormitories. I’ll show you to your room, this way,” he instructed, leading Jeremiah into the building.
Inside wasn’t quite as fancy as the outside, it looked as though the walls of the hallways had been repaired in various places and it smelled much like a hospital room. The hallway walls were mainly white in color, save for the varnished woodwork that lined the floor; the carpet was moss green. For the most part, the walls were bare and the halls were mostly quiet.
Gesturing to the repaired walls as they made their way down the corridor, the headmaster stated plainly, “Vandalism will not be taken lightly and the destruction of school property will result in triple detention. It is advised you don’t even think about it.”
Marrion then led Jeremiah up a few flights of stairs to the second floor and through a few more halls until reaching room 216.
“Here we are, Mister Sechaida,” Marrion said as he withdrew a key from his pocket and opened the lock. He then opened the door with a flourish and stood to one side for Jeremiah to enter. “Your room mate is most likely in town, so you’ll have plenty of time to settle in…—“ then after a slight paused he added, “—Now, if don’t mind… Your cigarettes, please,” he ordered, extending a hand.
Jeremiah looked reluctant, though inside he was laughing to himself. He grudgingly handed the headmaster his duffel bag.
Headmaster Marrion accepted the bag, opened it, and proceeded to dig through it. “Well, you didn’t stock up very well, did you?” he commented as he produced a total of four cigarette cartons and looked to Jeremiah. “Empty your pockets.”
At first Jeremiah didn’t move. Then, with a scowl, he turned out his pockets. A few bits of spare change, some folded paper, and a near-empty cigarette carton fell to the green-carpeted floor.
Marrion stooped to retrieve the carton with a smirk and then returned the duffel bag to Jeremiah. “Good. Here’s the key to your room. Once you are settled you may look around and do as you please as long as you are not breaking school rules. I look forward to seeing you in class on Monday.”
After handing the key to the glowering teen, there was a sudden ringing sound. Marrion produced a cell phone from his pocket.
“Yes? What is it?” he asked as he put the phone to his ear. “What? Damn it… I’ll be there as soon as possible.”
With a short glance at Jeremiah, the headmaster gave a nod. “Good day to you, Mister Sechaida.”
Marrion hurried off down the corridor and once he had disappeared around the corner Jeremiah retrieved the former-contents of his pockets and stuffed them into his bag.
Straightening, he stepped into the dormitory room, looking around curiously. The place was a bit of a mess, much like his room back at home. A few wrinkled shirts lay draped over furniture, a few cupboard doors in the cramped kitchen at the other side of the room were left ajar, and various books and empty soda littered much of the room. At least his roommate wouldn’t complain about the state of the dormitory. The section of the room nearest the door was carpeted with that same moss green carpet and was furnished with a small blue couch and a brown armchair that looked as thought it had been picked out of the trash. A tiny TV, also appearing to have been trash-picked, sat across from the chair and couch. The smaller portion made up the small kitchen and had white tile flooring. The only piece of furniture other than the plain counter was a small table covered in heaps of papers that contained scrawled writing. A door on the left side of the room lay ajar, leading to what appeared to be a moss green-carpeted bedroom. A door on the right led to a small, white-tiled bathroom.
Closing the door, Jeremiah dropped his duffel bag on the floor and placed the gig bag containing his bass guitar on the couch and then proceeded to investigate the room. He was just nearing the table to see just what was written on all that paper when a thought struck him. His cigarettes! Had Marrion found them? As it seemed, he was in a bit of a hurry, hopefully too much of a hurry to notice the cartons in the grass. He couldn’t go now, he would have to wait; maybe until later that evening. Glancing toward the kitchen, he noticed a pair of windows looking out over the school grounds; perhaps he could see them from there. He moved quickly to peer down at the grounds below. No such luck, these windows were facing the north wall, whereas his cigarettes lay somewhere along the east wall. Damn, if only—
“Eh… I’m guessing you’re the new guy…”
Jeremiah gave a start and whipped around to find a young man with spiked, shock-red hair standing in the doorway that led to the bedroom.
Jeremiah found himself at a loss for words; he had previously assumed he was alone here. The other young man gave an amused grin, raising a brow.
“I’ll take that as a yes. I’m Spike… And you are…?”
Jeremiah paused for a moment before finally responding. “Jeremiah.”
The grin widened. “Jeremiah? That’s a funny name.”