Julian stared at the grey sludge in his bowl. His first morning in the Bertrand Academy had been absolute hell. The boy that slept in the boy next to Julian's was no more than fifteen years old, but he cried like he was seven. At first he thought the boy was missing home but when the smell of yesterday's dinner wafted to his nose, he realized how many of the other boys were whimpering and tossing in their beds. This should not have been a dorm room; it was a more like hospital ward.

Julian had drifted off to sleep around the early hours of the morning only to be woken by five loud bangs that rang through the hallways. 5 am. He had made his bed three times before it was perfect according to the attendant and was assigned to clean up his neighbor's semi-digested food. He had stood in a long line, only to have this sickening mush thrown into a bowl and put on a tray.

Now here he sat, exhausted and definitely not hungry. A pair of legs walked past his vision. The owner shuffled his feet and moved quickly. Julian scooped a spoonful of the grey sludge and brought it to his mouth. The feet trudged past his vision again, this time going the opposite way than before. He counted to three and swallowed it, grimacing. It was bland and slimy. Once more, the legs walked past, this time slower.

Julian looked up from his breakfast. "Do you need something?"

A young boy looked down at him. His was short and skinny. His brown hair was close cropped, revealing a deeply defined widows peak. He smiled brightly, the warmth reflecting in his blue eyes. He took a seat across from Julian.

"You're new around here, aren't you? We don't get many new boys, not in the middle of the year anyway."

The boy's jacket was horribly wrinkled. His hair was a mess, the front half slanting to the left and the rest slanting in no discernible way. The only orderly thing about the boy was his chin, strong and prominent. It was a chin that could only belong to—

"You're Charles Watson's brother."

The boy picked at a stain on his sleeve. "Yup! My name is Robert but you can call me Robbie. I'm turning twelve next month! Can you believe it! I know I look a little small but—"

"What do you need Robert?"

Robert looked at his shoes, frowning. "I-I just wanted to meet you. Charles said you had an awfully funny accent. I just wanted to hear it."

Julian stood from the bench and slammed his palms on the wooden table, startling Robert. "A funny accent? My French accent is one of the most respectable sounding noises I have ever heard. If Charlie thinks its funny then he has no taste!"

A deep voice resounded behind the steaming Julian. "Robbie. Is this child bothering you?"

"No Charles but he is kinda weird like you said. He keeps talking about respectable noises. I didn't think noises could be respectable."

Charles smiled at Robbie and took a seat next to Julian. "Julian, remember that friendly warning I gave you yesterday? The one about my sister? Well, it applies to my brother as well. Do you understand?"

"I am no child. If I heard the headmaster correctly, you are still a year my junior."

"I am the eldest boy of my family and will hurt anyone who tries to hurt them. Now I will ask again, and I expect an answer this time. Do you understand?"

Julian glared at Charles. His "guide" would not be acceptable. He would talk to the headmaster the first chance he got. Through clenched teeth he said, "Yes, I understand."

"Watson! Watson!" A young girl ran up to the table, slipping in besides Robert. Her dark brown hair was pulled into a bun but a few curls escaped, framing her small face. Her cheeks were red and she carried a paper in her hands. "I found it! I found the—"

She stopped and stared at Julian. "A ways from home are we?"

"Pardon me?"

"Well, you're a Frenchman, a very wealthy Frenchman. Your father is well respected and yet he pays you little attention. Of course you would give him no good reason to give you attention. Which bring up the question you've been asking yourself for years: why me? Why did he adopt you if he was going to virtually ignore you?"

Julian studied the girl; beautiful, strong and yet somehow still vulnerable. "Been taking to Charles have we?"

"No, this is the first I've seen of him in three days."

"Yes I see that now. You've been in the town, outside of the academy, gathering information for your investigation. A corruption conspiracy, I presume? The papers you hold in your hand are proof that it is no longer just a conspiracy. A list of names, maybe the invoice of a transaction?" Julian smirked, confident that he had shocked his peers.

And he had. Both Charles and Robbie stopped eating, their eyes widened and they stared at him in disbelief. Miss Watson, on the other hand, remained calm. She eyed him warily; no more surprised by his response as she was by the fact that he was French.

Charles was the first to recover between the two boys. "How on earth! Anna, how'd you know he was adopted? I didn't even… You left long before he arrived so how would he know that you had left long before—"
"Watson, stop blubbering. It's quite simple how he would know where I've been." Anna shrugged her shoulders. "As I walked in, he no doubt noticed the heavy mud splashes on my boots. The ground here is covered with gravel, keeping mud at bay. The only place I could have received these marks is outside of the academy boundaries. It is the middle of a school year and the headmaster would not let a student travel far, so the village, only a twenty minute journey. As for the papers, they have been written in fast, barely legible letters and yet I hold it close to me, letting few see the contents of them. He would have realized that I have only arrived back about ten minutes ago; the school doesn't open the gates until seven. That would have given me no time to change, and you do have considerable say in the way this school is run. It would be reasonable to assume I would come, immediately, to you with 'corruption conspiracies', as he calls it."

Julian spoke up, "Ah! Well done! Really, though, my background is not a difficult puzzle to solve either. I take great pride in my appearance; my nails are trimmed and clean, my clothes fashionable and neat. Both signs of a respectable, wealthy man. My hair style is very popular in France. My handkerchief, here in my pocket, has the family emblem of the Dubois, a French surname. The only out of the ordinary thing of this whole situation is my dark skin and strong features, both uncommon to Frenchmen. So my father was either a self-made gypsy man or more likely, I was adopted. As for the fact that my father ignores me or the fact that have a self asked question why he picked me, I'm afraid the lady is mistaken about both incidences."

Charles sighed and shook his head. "You two are either going to be the best of friends or the worst of enemies."

Still analyzing Julian, Annie said, "Friends is a strong word."

A gong rang through the dining hall. Charles stood from his chair picking his empty bowl off the table. "That would be the signal for class to start. Anna I'll see you at lunch." Charles left the room, Robbie bounding closely behind.

Julian slid Anna's hand into his own and pressed his lips against it. "A pleasure to meet you Miss Watson."

She pulled her hand out of his. "The pleasure is all mine."

With gracefully movements, she gathered her papers and headed for the door. With a second thought, she stopped and turned her head to Julian. "Oh and Mr. Dubois? I am never mistaken in my deductions."

Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think!