HOLY HOLY HOLY HOLY GUYS! I'M BACK AND BETTER THAN EVER WITH A NEW FANFIC! IT'S BEEN SO LONG! AAGH!
Alright so basically I decided to take a break from my real novel I'm writing and do this instead. Chapter one is a little bit floppy and I'll probably add on later, but please review and such. Hope you like it!
Best,
Tommy
**ONE**
Something was still off.
Gordie looked at himself one last time in the mirror. Dark hair combed carefully, sweeping over his forehead and gelled back to a slick. Dark eyes and eyelashes, cold and judging, a set jaw to match. He cocked his head at the unfamiliar Gordie Lachance standing in the dusty full-length mirror. Blush blue plaid shirt, dark tie, matching indigo slacks and blazer, complete with the intricate pin clipped to the collar of the thick fabric. Nervously, he adjusted the jacket, tightening the cufflinks and shuffling in the stiff, shiny black shoes. Still, something was off. He wrinkled his nose, shrugged his shoulders, rolled his neck and then tugged tightly on his bottom lip, thinking, still staring closely, eye to eye with himself. What was it?
Castle Rock Gordie was much more different from New York Gordie than he thought he would be. Castle Rock Gordie still had friends. Three of them, three reliable ones. Vern. Teddy. Chris, especially. But why, Gordie asked himself, was he here? Oh, of course he knew. Of course he knew…
He knew exactly why he was here.
I'm not scared. Gordie reassured himself, but it sounded more like a question than a statement in his jumbled up mind. Besides. Polly Prep will be great. Better than Castle Rock Middle, anyway. Nothing to worry about. Besides, there will be a lot of new kids joining in eight grade, right? Gordie sighed, shaking his head. Of course there wouldn't be. His dad had to move mountains to get him into this school because they didn't have any more room for new arrivals. But, of course, his dad always got what he wanted. Always.
"Gordie!?" A voice yelled. Gordie sighed, looking up from himself and around his plain bedroom. His bare bedroom. Not his bedroom, no. The landlord's bedroom, in the landlord's building. He had always hated apartments…
"Coming!" He yelled, looking one last time back at himself before padding towards the door of his bedroom.
"Gordie, you know my expectations for this school year, don't you?"
Gordie looked up, slack-jawed at Mr. Lachance, nodding dumbly like he always did when he had no idea what his dad was talking about.
"No screwing around this semester, alright?" He said. Gordie sunk lower in the worn leather seats of the family Subaru, nodding glumly and tugging his brother's Yankee's cap lower over his eyes. "Just because you're in a new school does not mean I will accept less than a B+ on anything, is that clear? Any slip-ups and I'm contacting the councilor."
"But dad!" Gordie protested, shooting up. "Dad, we had a deal! It's been a year, dad, I don't need to see some damn councilor!"
"Well, this is the deal now." Mr. Lachance said firmly. "Your grades make so much as one dip and you're going right to Ms. Sanders. Yes, Gordie?"
Gordie glared at him, placing his hand on the base of the seatbelt and unbuckling.
"Gordon…"
"Alright, okay!" Gordie exclaimed, looking out the open window and out at the unfamiliar parking lot. "She's dead anyways…"
"Gordon Lachance, you take that back this instant!"
But the car door had already slammed behind him, and Gordon Lachance was racing across the asphalt towards the school in front of him.
Polly Prep Academy for Boys was positively huge. Looking up at it now, Gordie realized how near tiny he was compared to the castle-turned-school, the grey stone walls towering yards and yards over his head, windows precariously placed along it's surface, faces of boys peeking out, milling through the hallways. Looking at this, Gordie began to feel uncomfortably aware of those pushing past him on the way through the thick iron gates that stood in front of him. Gordie looked around. Blank faces, faces smiling, heads bobbing in pairs, in threes, all alone, blonde heads, brown heads, red heads, green eyes, blue eyes, brown eyes, grey eyes, all a flash of indigo and baby blue around him. Baseball bats, lacrosse sticks, smiling faces and footballs being tossed over his heads. Nobody paid him any mind, save for the occasional strange look, an unrecognized stranger on preppy-boy territory. This wasn't Castle Rock. Oh boy, if Chris could see him now.
"Yo, look out, man!"
Gordie's head turned abruptly, just in time to see a baseball flying straight for his face. On a reflex, his arm shot out and smacked the ball out of the air, encasing it in a hard grip, bumping into a few other boys within the ameba of students in the process. Surprised at himself, Gordie looked around and then down at his hand, which still held firm to the baseball. He flipped it over in his palms, investigating the dusty surface, upon which was etched the name C. D'Anthony messily in black Sharpie. Gordie looked around for the owner, but saw no one. He bit his lip, craning his neck over the sea of boys.
"Hey, you've got a pretty good arm there." A voice said. Gordie whipped around. In front of him stood a boy surprisingly resembling a cool and composed yet still eager-to-please golden retriever puppy. The boy was of soft features, a fair mass of corn-colored golden hair flopping over his forehead, slightly buzzed at the sides, but long-growing and wavy at the top, light eyebrows and grey eyes. His friendly, lopsided smile was radiant, bright teeth, flashing canines and soft pink lips that turned up just at the corners. The usually unflattering dust blue clashing with the almost-purple of the uniform somehow brought out the cloudy-grey of his eyes. Ultimately, the boy was gorgeous, his mop of hair flopping to one side when he tilted his head in his puppy-dog way at Gordie.
"Haven't seen you around before." The boy admitted. Gordie shrugged.
"I'm new." He replied simply.
"Of course." The fair-haired boy said, looking Gordie over with recognition. "What's your name?"
"Gordie." He told him, giving a smile.
"Caspar." The boy said, reaching out to shake his hand, but getting his ball back instead. "Hey, you should join the baseball team." He told Gordie with interest. Gordie shrugged. "I see your a fan." Caspar nodded towards the Yankee hat atop his dark head.
"Not really. It was my brother's."
"Oh, is he here?" Caspar asked.
"No…" Gordie rubbed the back of his neck. "He's kind of…" He swallowed. "Dead."
"Oh…" Caspar shuffled his feet, grimacing. "Oh, sorry."
"Nah, it's cool." Gordie shrugged again. "It was a while ago."
Caspar nodded awkwardly.
"I'd better not be late." He said finally. "Uh, I'll see you around!" He smiled, making to turn around. "And I meant what I said. You should join. Also," he leaned in closer. "Word to the wise, I wouldn't wear that hat inside if I were you. Strict policies."
Gordie nodded gratefully, removing the ht and shoving it into his backpack. And with a wave, Caspar was gone. Gordie watched him go.