There were one hundred and fifty boys at Hawthorne. One hundred and fifty students and only 25 teachers. Michael wondered how they could afford the one on one training that the school was known for. Nevertheless, Michael did the round of introductions.
After a while, his mind drifted. The uniform was itchy. Starchy white shirts with stupid Bolo ties and black blazers made them look like a cross between a pilgrim and the Kentucky Fried Chicken Colonel. Michael hated them and wanted to put them in pentagram and then burn them. Then he shook his thoughts away when he heard laughter.
Some of the boys were nice. Raymond the Fourth and Theodoric Willis were dicks, but Stuart Buchanan, Andre Stevens, and Evan Gallant were all right. Even the dweeb they made his roommate was alright.
Michael adored adoration. So when Ariel called the boys out and informed them all that they should look to Michael as Michael was their Alpha and would lead their kind into better times soon, Michael knew that he would be getting an onslaught of emotions headed his way from the adulation of his fellow classmates. Michael now had his first very own cult. Of course there were those students and even Alumni who felt differently, who felt that he brought them great danger.
Little did they know how true it was. But Michael enjoyed himself. Even though he hadn't killed anyone since the cop over a month ago, he didn't appear to need to. The materials being taught captured his imagination during the day, and the young men who came into his room at night made him focus elsewhere as he learned a different skill set. Gone was Michael's former shyness when he could have Eric, Kim, and Joshua in his bed pleasuring him all at once. However, there was one young man that alluded him and Michael did not understand why. The intriguing young man hung out with Buchanan and Stevens; Evan Gallant.
Gallant was sarcastic, Gallant was loyal, Gallant was sweet, Gallant was opinionated, Gallant was a gossip, Gallant was weak, Gallant was talented, Gallant was bitchy, Gallant was clingy, Gallant was a rebel, Gallant was submissive, Gallant was kinky, Gallant was sexy, Gallant was honest...
Gallant was beautiful. He may have fried his short blonde hair, but his lithe body contained a backside that met the Kallipygian Ideal, and his warm brown eyes were so expressive you could always tell what he was thinking. And on the few occasions that he was out of the school he dressed like a dream; with a simple scarf around the neck, a black leather jacket and pants, and aviators. Langdon liked to envision him on the back of a Harley, wind in his hair and the engine rumbling.
But Gallant seemed to avoid him. Michael needed to find out what was going on.