"John, wake up. It's time for you to get ready."
That was his father. With a loud sigh and a few stretches, John slowly open the door to your bedroom with a slight creak. Today was the day; the day he were being admitted to a hospital for, according to his father, his "well being and safety." John knew that was total bullshit, though.
If it were up to him, he would be gone. Disappearing into the hazy outdoors, feet slopping against the little bit of mud made from early morning dew. He would abscond from this hell-hole, somewhere safer.
But instead of trying to run away (and eventually be caught by police anyhow) John was forced to stay, by night patrol surrounding your home.
You see, in Skaia, disobedience is NOT tolerated under any circumstances. According to the "elected president" at least.
Children with any behavioural problems, ranging from ADHD to manic depression, were authorized to stay away and strictly forbidden to rejoin society as it was.
Ahem, at least, if you were caught being naughty.
Those were the lucky kids, the children with proper manners or just a well-groomed appearance. The ones that didn't have to join John in his quest, just because their families had money or a hair straightener.
John Egbert wasn't really like those other kids.
The boy had thickly-framed glasses and shaggier hair, along with beaver-esque teeth and a lanky figure. He was kind of built, but only from the waist up. ( Thanks, hockey. )
He wore khakis that reminded people of prepubescent, angry Xbox players from 2013, though that didn't phase John in the slightest. They were very comfortable.
His shirt, at least the one he were wearing as of now, said " EVERY GOOD BOY DESERVES FUDGE " in bright blue print. A reminder from your pianist to stay calm whilst playing music, at least you think that's what he said. It was also a pun.
John was thinking a lot about his appearance right now.
It was all about to change.
His normal, everyday clothing was about to be replaced with singular-colored, loose-fit yoga pants and a white shirt.
He remembered this from the Wikipedia page on the Spades Asylum.
He also remembered, oddly, an entire page dedicated to the head figure at the Mental Hospital. But he doesn't quite remember his name…
Scratch, was it?
It was such a stupid name. Obviously not his real one, it simply couldn't be! I mean, what mother in her right mind gives birth to a beautiful baby boy and suggests naming it after something a cat w-
"Jooooonathon Egbert!" The worried father exclaimed suddenly, slightly peeved at John's lack in response.
"U-uhm, coming dad!" He stuttered, fumbling to change into the first outfit of his new lifestyle.
The pants fit slim, and created an 80's style halo around his ankles that annoyed him. He decided to make a mental note to count each and every time someone tripped while wearing these horrid pants.
He then slid on the T-Shirt, which fit John reasonably and had one, small bit of personality represented on the chest of it.
It was a Ghostbusters patch, obviously sutured by John's father.
The thought of leaving everything behind almost brings him to tears, even still, when he's hugging his dad goodbye and clutching onto the mandatory suitcase until his knuckles turned whiter than stone.
The goodbye was a teary blur, but the walk to the bus was not. The bus driver snatched a ticket from his shaky hands as he approached her and pushed him to the back of the bus, where all the "Spade's" kids were to go on account of "mishaps."
This was going to be a hellishly long and brutal ride.
On the bus, some awkwardly angsty pop song was playing faintly on the radio while John shifted uncomfortably in his seat. It might be because somebody was watching him from a few rows up, but that didn't matter. They were the only other person on the bus.
He never really got a good glimpse at whoever was eyeballing you, but whoever was seemed… eerie.
He could tell it was a female, and that she was going where he was, from when she got on the bus. She wore the same outfit he did, but his Ghostbusters slime patch was replaced with a simplistic octopus shape. Along with the weird badge, she also had a striking glare, one that people only saw in animated bullies and pictures of convicted felons.
What made the entire situation worse was that she never made an effort to talk to John. He did, once, still from afar, but she shrugged it off and told him to "Repent elsewhere, please." At least the lady has manners.
Later, he discovered she really enjoyed reading. The four-hour bus ride didn't seem to phase the lady at all as she dove right into Twilight. Which John thought was a pretty crappy series, but decided not to judge anyhow.
John and the octopus girl were the only two on the bus that morning, and although it was pretty boring, he had a lot to think about. Who would be there? What would the people be like? Would they accept him? Were they almost there? Well, whatever the case, their ride had finally arrived at "Spade's Mental Institute For Troubled Children". The building was tall, and looked like something that was ripped from an American Horror Story episode. The windows were tinted a light gray, just so you couldn't see into the offices from outside. John felt his knees shake ever so slightly and gulped, gripping his bag tightly again and heading off of the bus and into his new home.
Yeesh.