Knights and Jesters
Part One
Nineteen Seventy Nine didn't start as an eventful year. High school was high school, with the same anachronistic social rituals, the oddly colored Jell-O, and the ever-mysterious phenomenon known as football. Books were the only practical refuge, and even they were starting to get old. It felt like a scratched record had taken over my life, playing a tune I was tired of marching to.
Then came the day that broke routine. It had the perfect ingredients for disaster - a pretty girl, a mindless pack of bullies, and a conveniently placed chair.
Some would say it was an accident, others would call it fate.
I don't really care what you call it.
Two weeks later I found myself in the prison of my father's choosing.
It was the first time I met an evolved human.
It changed everything.
Safe Haven – An Institution for Troubled Youth.
A string of meaningless, generic words; their existence justified only by the dusty plaque they were attached to.
Not that anyone actually read them. Could have said 'Welcome to Wonderland' to the same effect.
The building itself didn't look like much, either. In fact, it looked distinctly like nothing. Only it was a nothing made of bricks and concrete.
The interior wasn't any better. Like the exterior turned inside out. Even the temperature was the same.
Entering my assigned room, I was greeted by the welcoming sight of feet dangling from the top bunk.
I lifted my gaze to find the owner of the feet in question.
Brown hair, green eyes, a purposefully hazy expression.
I extended my hand in greeting.
"Hi, I'm –"
"A troubled youth," he helpfully completed my sentence for me.
"No," I paused, letting my arm drop since it looked like no handshake was imminent. "Not exactly. I'm not really supposed to be here."
"I know," it was a tone of apathetic understanding. "But you're troubled, and you're a youth, and so you're here."
"I'm not particularly troubled, either."
It took him a whole second to come up with an answer.
"Sure you are. You can't help that. We're all troubled." He grinned. "I'm troubled. You're troubled."
"We're all troubled here, you mean."
If he was intent on misquoting a fictional cat, he might as well do it right.
"Not what I said."
"Okay." Since logical argument didn't seem a viable route, I decided to return to the mandatory introduction, "So I'm-"
"Bennet."
"Right." He must've been informed about me. "And you are?"
"Adam."
"It's nice to-"
Displaying the ability to be impressively rude without saying a word, he turned to his back and proceeded to resolutely stare at the ceiling.
"…Alright then."
I started to unpack my luggage.
There was one word that summed this all up.
A perfect word.
Bleak.
Oh well.
If bleak had no problem with me, then I had no problem with bleak.