This is the new bit, or part. Lots more to come!
That had been a long time ago. Nicholas had commiserated, thought, read, laughed, but the truth was – he didn't feel like he deserved boarding school. It made him feel like he was going to have a bad time. He felt like he was going to be left out. He felt like he was going to have long bouts of home sickness. He felt as if he were going to be worse than the other boys at sport. He felt like he was going to have to make new friends and enemies. He felt as if he would miss his family, and all his old school friends, and he knew that he would miss his books.
Nicholas loved books. They were his trust. He had all of them, all the good ones at least - and he had a trial thinking of all the things that he would have to be doing besides reading at boarding school. And, he knew that secondary school was much harder than primary school – and he felt a little nervous, a little scared. He lounged about the house in different bodily positions, followed the cat about, and thought for long hours about what would happen to him at boarding school. He listened to the radio, to get information on the war, he flicked through old comics, so he could draw the characters, he rang his friends, to feel loved – though, he dwelt too much on how hard secondary school would be, as far as his studies went, because he knew that with new friends and enemies, school would be harder, because all his hormones would be thinking about girls and status. He would have to try very hard. There was no slacking about anymore. He knew he had to stay low to the ground.
His room was deep mauve, and it had timber. There were large book cases, with all his special books in them. There was a small desk, where he would draw comics, and books were piled upon it. There was a beanbag, by the window. He had a bunkbed, for sleepovers and stuff. Nic had been very popular at school – well, he'd thought, at least. He'd had many teasers, idiots, rebels, losers, and chicks at his beckon call. He'd had an extensive case filled with all the joke comics that he had devised about almost most of the members of his class. He'd had fun mostly with one or two of his friends however, and they were the teasers. They'd just loved to make fun of people, and make them pout – but it was all in good fun. Sometimes, behind the sheds, his rebel friends would wrestle each other – for money. He'd never became involved with that, but he'd had a good laugh to see them scrabble. Year seven had been his favourite year, because he'd found out about liking. Not that it meant anything, just that there were a lot of notes, shynesses, and glee. But, it was short lived. There were other girls whom had piqued his interest as well, and in the end all the girls all went about in gaggles, trying to convince the boys to play kiss chasey, because they liked them. That had been the crowning event of the year, in his opinion. He had gained much laughter at their alacrity over that. He hadn't become involved, but he'd been in team B.A.G. That was an acronym for boys against girls.
It was raining outside. The peppermint trees were moshing sadly in the wind. The roses were remaining stout. The air had a peaceful quality to it. The sky was grey, the grasses were green, and wet. There was no escaping the atmosphere of the moment. He would be leaving on the plane on the morrow, to dwell in Walpole, where there was a grand school in the midst of a forest of tingle trees. Thereaux was the name of the school, and it was a grand old edifice of time. There were dorms, and ovals, and statues, and gardens – and there was even a swimming pool. He'd seen all the pictures in the pamphlet, and he'd had the idea of liking it very much, in the end – because he'd settled it in his mind. He was ready to become a man.