A/N:Right, for all you lovely people that follow me, you are probably familiar with a very early work of mine, School Life. Well, this is its rewrite. I was rereading it, to re-familiarize myself with the story so I could write the long awaited sequel. What I read, I was not happy with, at all. And the sequel would have outstripped the original by leaps and bounds if left as is. So, I decided to rewrite it so the stories meshed better.
There are tons, and I mean TONS, of changes. All for the better I hope.
Thanks to the lovely and patient old ping hai, the best beta in the world.
The flaxen-haired youth ran down the street racing to get home as he had every day for the past week. Of course, today was different. Today was the last day of school before summer break. So, he felt doubly excited. It had to come today, it just had to. He would need the time to get all the things the school required to start the new semester in the autumn.
He forced himself to slow down. Not only was he putting the horse before the cart, he didn't have the horse or the cart yet. He had to take it one step at a time. He stopped by the mailbox and took a deep breath. He opened it slowly, to reveal about a half a dozen letters. Two were bills for mum and dad, two were his and Harry's grades, and there at the bottom of the pile was the letter he was waiting for.
In the upper left-hand corner of the envelope was the seal of Westminster Private Academy. And in the center was the John H. Watson, followed by his address. He ran his fingers over the soft vellum paper, trying to believe that this was really happening and not just a dream.
"Oi! Lughead!" a voice called from the front door of John's house. "You gonna be standing there all day?"
John looked up to see his sister standing there with her hands on her hips. She was a little taller than John (much to his chagrin), and had purple streaks in her short, spiky blonde hair.
John handed Harry her grades. "You may want to burn that before mum and dad get home," he said with a wink.
Harry groaned. She tried. She really did, but she could never scrape up grades higher than C+ average.
"Urgh," she muttered, tossing the envelope in the bushes by the door. "If mum or dad asks, the wind snatched it out of your hands and it flew away, never to be seen ever again…."
"Sir, yes sir!" John said with a salute and an ear-splitting grin.
"Urgh," she groaned again. "What has got you so chipper? It's disgusting."
"I got my letter from WPA today," John said, his smile turning smug.
"Ooh," she said, snatching the letters from his hands. She ran for the bathroom, tossing his grades and the two bills at him to slow his pursuit. Once she reached her destination, she slammed and locked the door behind her.
John could hear her rip open the letter. "Come on, Harry! I wanted to read it!"
She ignored him and began reading, "'Dear Mr Watson…' Ooh, fancy. 'We have looked over your scholastic merits, reviewed your record on and off the rugby pitch…' La-de-da, more boring stuff. Oh here we go, 'We are pleased to accept you into our school and wish to extend to you a full ride scholarship…' Well, aren't you the lucky devil." Harry threw open the door.
John grabbed the letter out her hands as she looked over the accompanying list of things he would need at the start of term. He had to read it several times to believe it. He got in. He. Got. In.
She handed him the list. "It's a good thing you got a full ride, brother dear. Otherwise the shock of the price of the uniforms alone would kill mum and dad." She tapped on the name of the place to get the uniforms. "I don't recognize some of the other places for like the books and things, but that place I do know."
John looked at the name. "Okay, I'm not familiar with it."
"Let's just say posh doesn't even cover it."
John winced. He knew that if he hadn't got a scholarship there was no way his parents could afford the tuition, let alone the things he would need. But he didn't realize it would be that bad.
There was a commotion at the front of the house as their parents came home.
Henry Watson was a stout, square man, his blond hair greying, turning it ashen. His blue eyes were wide and friendly and a smile seemed permanently attached to his face. He was a doctor at the local surgery, but his former occupation as a military doctor was firmly stamped on the way he held himself.
Julie Watson was the opposite of her husband, tall and willowy. Her platinum blonde hair was tied severely back in a bun. Her grey eyes were flat and lifeless, and though she had smile lines around her eyes and mouth, one could tell she hadn't smiled in awhile. She was the perfect picture of a faded beauty. She worked long hours at the hospital's A&E, and it left its mark on her person.
Mr Watson sat in his chair, a solid piece of furniture with a tartan pattern, and removed his shoes. He began to roll up his right trouser leg and Harry was there at his side in a heart beat, holding out a small jar to him.
"Thanks, love," he told her, taking it from her and setting it on the arm of the chair. He finished rolling up his trouser leg and wrestled with the prosthetic, working it off. He threw to the side with a mumble curse about it chaffing all the time. He opened the jar and took out a small glob. When he was done rubbing in the mixture, he looked up at his son.
"Alright, Johnny. What you got? I can see you over there, you're practically vibrating."
John started over to his dad and then briefly turned to his mother to show her first. She shook her head and then nodded to his dad. He finished the movement toward his dad and shoved the letter into his hands.
"I got in! Full ride, too. Isn't it incredible?" John gushed.
Mr Watson read over the letter carefully. "Well, done, Johnny. Now all we need is for Harry to become famous and me and your mum will be set for life." Around him, Mr Watson's family groaned.
"In all seriousness, John. I am proud of you." He turned to his daughter. "You just need to find something you excel at, then those grades won't matter, eh?" He pulled her grades out his pocket and she winced.
"Yes, dad."
He reached into his pocket again, for his wallet. He pulled out a twenty. Mrs Watson leaned forward as if to say something, then stepped back. "It'll be fine, Julie, I'll stick to cold cuts for the next while." He handed the money to John. "Go celebrate with your friends, John."
John's eyes went wide. "Thanks dad!" And he was off before his mum changed his dad's mind.
He sent a message to all his friends.
- Got in to WPA. Full ride. Meet me at Speedy's to celebrate! - JW
Speedy's was their local diner and had the best fish and chips on the planet.
John sat at their regular table, a big pile of fish and chips in front of him and a coke. His leg jangled with anticipation as he waited for his friends to arrive.
His best friend, Mike, came first. He was a well-built youth, with brown hair and warm eyes hidden behind glasses. Trailing behind him was his girlfriend, Sarah. John had flirted with her a bit before she hooked up with Mike, but nothing came of it. She had blue eyes and warm brown hair that looked like honey in the sunlight. Not that John noticed. Of course not. She was his mate's girlfriend.
Next to arrive was Bill and his girlfriend. John couldn't tell what they saw in each other, to be honest. Bill was a tall, lanky red-head with more freckles than there were cabs in London. Jeanette was a thin girl with dark skin and constant scowl. John had dated that one. It did not end well. He had broken off too many dates due to family troubles and she dumped him at the Christmas party.
The last to arrive was James. He was captain of the rugby team and the strong silent type that all the girls went for. He could have had the pick of the lot, but he hadn't chosen any of them. John had the distinct impression his friend was gay.
"Hey, guys!" John said, jumping up to greet his friends. He was still vibrating from his good news.
Mike slid in next to him on his left, Bill on his right and their girlfriends next to them. That left James directly across from John and he smiled warmly at his captain. James gave a tentative one in return.
"So I hear someone got into their first-choice school," Mike grumped.
John nudged his friend in the shoulder. "Says the bloke that got his acceptance letter from St. Mary's weeks ago."
The rest of the group turned to him in shock. "St. Mary's!" Bill said with a low whistle. "When were you gonna tell us, mate?"
Mike shrugged. "After everyone got theirs, I guess. Didn't want to announce it if people didn't get into their first-choice schools."
Sarah gave his hand a squeeze.
"So, where are you going to, Bill?" John said, taking the focus off his best friend.
Bill glanced over at James, who nodded. "James and I got both got into the Northumberland Military Academy."
John let out a low whistle. NMA was his third choice, if he couldn't get in WPA or St. Mary's. Even the girls were impressed.
"How did you get in there?" John asked James. You had to have a relative who was either in the military or was to write you a letter of recommendation. And even then it was hard. "Bill here's granddad was some big war hero in WWII. Who got you in?" John let out a stuttered breath. "I mean, I didn't even know you were interested in the military or anything."
James shrugged. The truth was that he'd done it because everyone knew John's dream was to become an army doctor like his dad was. James knew that he couldn't get into Westminster Private Academy and he had no interest in medicine, so he went for John's third choice, hoping that John wouldn't get into his first two choices. That he could stay with John until at least uni. But he had forgotten how driven his friend could be.
"I've got an uncle on my mum's side who's a major in the army. He wrote my recommendation letter," James muttered into his drink.
"That's just so cool," John said, a grin splitting his face. James blushed.
"Oh, well that's just fantastic," Jeanette hissed. "What am I suppose to do while I have to continue going to school here and everyone is off at their pricey public schools?"
Everyone turned to Sarah. "St. Mary's, too," she said looking up at Mike, adoringly.
Jeanette rolled her eyes as her boyfriend exclaimed, "You go, girl."
"Didn't you want to be a vet?" John asked Jeanette.
"Teacher," she growled.
"Oh. Oops," he turned to the rest of his friends. "Which one was the one that wanted to be the vet?"
"The one with the nose," Mike said.
"No, the one with the spots," Sarah corrected.
"Oi!" Bill cried out. "I've got spots."
"You have freckles," Sarah told him. "She had spots."
"Anyway," James interjected. "John has had far too many girlfriends if even his friends can't keep track."
John blushed as Bill nudged him with his shoulder. "Maybe you'll find the right girl at WPA."
John laughed. Like those rich girls would want anything to do with him, and he said so.
They laughed and talked and ate their food. And John spent the rest of the summer hanging out with them as much as he could. He was going to miss them. A lot.