John knew it wouldn't be easy starting over at a new boarding school, not his senior year, but he was supposed to feel honored to have been admitted to the prestigious Monroe School for Boys on a scholarship considerably late in coming.
His parents had been all too thrilled to send him off, as John had a habit of getting into fights at his old school. They made him promise nothing of the sort would happen at Monroe.
He wandered down halls that ached like old bones, surrounded by photos of classes that had come and gone before, all the way back to the 1920s. He would have kept walking, but then, he saw the glare of a stripped, white mattress and figured, "Ah, here we are."
A pudgy boy with glasses sat on the edge of the bed opposite in the small room adorned with a few science fair ribbons and piles of textbooks. The boy stood and nodded. "You must be John Watson."
"I am." John set his few belongings on the floor and reached out his hand to shake.
"Mike Stamford," he said as he took John's hand and smiled. "I'm going to be a doctor."
"Oh. Good." John had no response. For the time being, he was going to be a senior at Monroe School for Boys. Beyond that, the young man was utterly clueless.