Chapter Four: A Journey to a New Home
Thatcher Grace and Archimedes Filips stare at the cranberry colored school bus idling at the edge of the Grace's driveway. It is no larger than those yellows ones that pick up the No-Maj kids every morning. Thatch thinks it is also, for lack of a better description, absolutely horrendous.
"Do we really have to ride in that little thing the whole way?" Thatcher scrunches his nose and turns to his mom.
Mrs. Grace just laughs and pushes the two boys towards the bus and hands off their trunks, shrunken down for space purposes, to the Bus Attendant dressed in a hybrid cranberry bellhop uniform. "The whole way," she smiles. "Have fun!"
"Get in tons of trouble!" Mr. Grace calls as the door closes behind the two boys and their fate is sealed.
Thatcher walks up the steps of the bus first and is immediately greeted by an overweight man. "Welcome," the man grumbles, but he isn't listening. The bus isn't impressive on the outside, but the inside is a whole other world.
The bus is filled with cranberry and blue colors, oddly enough not overwhelming as it is tastefully accented with whites and creams to dull the brightness. The entire left side of the bus was lined with glass doors, all the doors have a cranberry trimming. Inside the glass doors are small rooms, decorated with blue couches on either side, facing each other, and cream colored pillows. A small coffee table sits in the center of the room.
In the room closest to them two older students are playing a game of exploding snap, they're already in their uniforms.
Thatcher and Arc exchange glances, wicked grins spreading across their faces. Thatch has a feeling this isn't going to be as bad as they thought.
"Pick any compartment," the bus driver says impatiently, putting the bus into drive and consequently lurching it forward. "They're all exactly the same."
The hallway is relatively wide, there is just enough room for the two boys to walk side by side and not brush against each other. The first three compartments the boys walk past are full.
Thatcher goes to open the door of an empty compartment but Arc walks past him towards a compartment another door down. "Woah now," Arc says, "hold yer horses, Lone Ranger! This one's got girls in it!"
Archimedes has already sauntered into the compartment before Thatcher can argue. There are two girls inside - one on either side. Both girls have straight black hair and tanned skin. The girl with longer hair has red paint staining the palms of her hands.
"Mind if we join you, ladies?" Arc says as he sits down next to the girl examining her face in a compact mirror.
"Kid of looks like you were going to anyways," she says to him, not looking away from her mirror.
Completely unfazed the dirty blonde haired boy continues on. "The name's Archimedes but you can call me Arc."
With a huff the girl closes her mirror and tosses it into her purse. She frowns at Arc. "Tatum Big Crow. Last name is two words. And you are?" She nods to him from across the coffee table.
"Thatcher." He smiles and sits down across from Arc. "Thatcher Grace." He turns to the girl next to him. It takes him a moment to recognize her. Her eyes are dark, similar to Tatum's, and they're somewhat narrowed. She's sizing him up, he realizes. Maybe she recognizes him too. "I saw you at Goldsteins. You were with those other two guys," Thatcher bristles at the memory of the two boys - Castor was one of them - bothering JR. He wonders for a moment if any of them will be on this bus. "Your name was Scot, right?"
She reaches out and shakes his hand but her face doesn't give anything away. "Scotley Country Man. And I wasn't with those two idiots, we just know them."
"You both do?" He asks. Thatcher lets go of her red hand and notices his hand comes away with a small amount of discoloration as well.
Scotley and Tatum share a look of distaste. Scotley rolls her eyes, "I've known him his whole life, Tatum met him on the bus while he was throwing a fit." Something devilish flashes across her face.
Archimedes, oblivious of the conversation and the shift in energy in the room, is showering Tatum with compliments, his thick accent sounding deeper as he tries to appear older. Her indifference molds into pleasure as she listens to the darker blonde praise her.
Thatcher raises an eyebrow as he watches them. "I've never heard Arc talk about someone else for so long before."
Scotley snorts, "she seems to find him a lot more interesting than she found me. Is he always.. Like that?"
"Yeah, pretty much," he laughs. Arc winks at the two of them before turning back to Tatum. "Do you two know each other?"
"Not really, I just met her." Scotley explains. "I'm from Montana. We picked her up in North Dakota."
"Montana?" Thatcher gapes at her. "That's, like, a twenty hour drive just from where I live! How long have you been on this bus?"
"I've only been here for two hours. The bus route starts in Washington and just cuts across the Northern states to Mount Greylock. I think I heard an older students say it was only a five hour long ride max." She brushes some hair out of her face with a red hand. When she catches him watching, she grins. "Before you ask, it's a long story," she slides her stained hand under her thigh.
Thatcher frowns, "sounds like a story with a couple of broken rules."
"Don't sweat it, Grace," Scotley smiles at him and glances at the door as if she's waiting for someone. "I didn't break any rules that matter."
Tatum laughs at that, bringing herself and Arc into the conversation. "I feel like this is something I would want to get in on."
"Want to get in on what?" Arc asks but Scot and Tatum aren't listening. "I want to get in on it," he adds.
Scot pushes her backpack further under the seat with her feet. "I reckon you will all find out soon enough."
The group falls into comfortable conversation after that. Thatcher finds out Scotley is a registered member from the Crow Reservation in Montana - apparently so is Castor - and Tatum is Sihasapa Lakota (Blackfoot Sioux) from the Standing Rock Indian Reservation in North Dakota. Her parents are the proud owners of the Prairie Knights Casino and Resort and although she has a lot to say about her mom, Thatcher notices she doesn't talk much about her dad.
Other than a brief description of where she is from, Thatcher can't get any more information out of Scotley. She "has a dad not worth mentioning" - as she put it, and an old dog at home, but that's all she seems willing to give up. When she does speak, it's in a sort of clipped tone. Not necessarily in a way that is mean or uninterested, but not always willing to speak unless she thinks she has something important to say.
Tatum is not the same. Everything she says is a little condescending, a little bit mean, and always about her. As Tatum talks more about her own upbringing, Scotley only seems to look more uncomfortable.
"Scotley -" Thatcher starts to see if he can pull her out of her funk.
Suddenly the door to their compartment is flung open, slamming onto the wall outside with a smack. "Scotley County Man!" A tall, thin boy shouts. Thatcher recognized him as Castor, the bully from his shopping trip. "You left-handed thief!"
"You're left-handed?" Archimedes asks, completely oblivious to the fury rolling off of the tanned boy in waves. "An original witch! Cool."
"Can I help you, Castor Quivers Before Mountains?" Scotley gives a sweet, innocent smile but Thatcher can see the humor glinting in her eyes. Suddenly her earlier elusive behavior about her red hands starts to make sense.
"You very well know that is not my name, you witch." Castor clenches his fists by his sides. The boy's body is rigid and for a moment Thatcher thinks the newcomer might start swinging. Thatch exchanges a look with Arc, but the southern boy is grinning, clearly more amused with the situation than anything else. "I know you stole my Grandmother's cakes. The case was cursed to put red dye on anyone who touched it that wasn't me and it's all over your hands!"
"Oh," Scot exclaims. "How did all this get here?" she frowns, looking down at her hands in mock surprise. She scratches her head with her stained red pointer finger. "Must have been from something else. Sorry, Cas."
Archimedes snorts loudly across from her, doing little to hold back his cackling laughter. Next to him, Tatum is eyeing the bag behind Scotley's feet before looking up at Castor with an amused smile on her face.
Scotley bats her eyes at Castor. "But, i know how special Gran-Gran's cakes are to you... if you'd like I would love to help you look for them."
Castor's eyes narrow so threateningly that Thatcher glances at Scotley worriedly, but she shows no sign of fear. She just continues to smile right back at him.
"I'll get you back for this, Country Man. Don't think I won't." He glares around at everyone in the room, pauses as he recognizes Thatcher with a sneer. "I'll get all of you." And with that he slams the door back into place is a resounding thud.
"Bye, Castor!" She calls to a closed door cheerily.
"You took his cakes?" he asks.
She grins at him and reaches into her backpack under the seat and pulls out a wooden box covered in red handprints. She unlatches it and holds it out for everyone. It's filled with an assortment of pastries roughly the size of their palms. "Anyone hungry?"
Arc's jaw drops. He hungrily grabs two cakes. Taking a bite from one he sighs heavily, Tatum completely forgotten, "I think I love you."
"You should be thanking Castor," Scotley takes a small powered cake out from the box before placing it between her and Thatcher. "He was dumb enough to just leave them out when he decided to yell at the Bus Attendant for not providing enough pillows."
"I don't know," Thatcher starts. Castor certainly isn't his favorite but he doesn't think he's ready for enemies so soon.
She catches his eye. "Oh, come on, he deserved it! I righted a wrong! Brought balance back into the world and so on." Thatcher watches as she reaches in for another cake and rips it in half, holding out half for him. "Think what you want, but this is justice. And with this gift, I promise to probably not steal from Castor again until further notice."
Thatcher stares at the cake before locking eyes with Scotley. It really does look delicious. And Castor really was awful. He smiles and takes the other half. "No stealing - unless absolutely necessary."
Arc mumbles through a mouthful of snacks, "this was absolutely necessary." The four of them laugh.
Thatcher catches Scotley's eye and although she's smiling, she keeps glancing back at the door with an odd look in her eyes.
The door opens once again to show a dark-skinned African-American boy, "Thatch!" JR runs stands in the doorway. "I thought you would be here!" He moves into the cabin a little ways but doesn't shut the door. "Those guys you saved me from were here, and I heard one of them throwing a fit about his cakes getting stolen and I had hoped it was you! Oh - I'm JR by the way," he finishes his story a little breathless, suddenly looking a little shy after acknowledging his audience.
"Hi, JR," Thatcher smiles reassuringly at him.
A boy moves out behind JR and waves, "I'm Mark! We were just heading to the bathroom when J saw you guys, so we decided to say hi!"
Arc scooches closer to Tatum, "y'all are more than welcome to join us!"
JR shakes his head, looking more than nervous at the idea of sharing space with a group of new people, even though he already knew one of them. "Oh, I don't know, actually -"
"Sure!" Mark gently pushes the darker boy into the room. "Where are you guys from? I'm from Oregon, so I've been on this bus for a while now but it seems like we're really making moves!"
Mark Miller is easy going and agreeable, but other than being a good mediator, he doesn't have a lot of intelligent things to bring to the conversation. Not that it's a bad thing, Thatcher thinks. Just not very interesting.
"I haven't put much thought into what house I want to be in," Mark answers when Tatum asks.
"Hmm," Tatum narrows her eyes. "Well, I know where I'm going." She pauses, waiting for the group to guess. When no one speaks up she rolls her eyes, "Horned Serpent, of course." The group nods and mumble a couple words of agreement. "They are the cleverest, afterall."
JR furrows his brow, "I don't really think that's how it works -"
"Of course it's how it works," Tatum rolls her eyes.
Thatcher nudges JR, "just agree with her," he whispers. "It's easier that way."
Tatum crosses her arms. "I can't imagine any of you in Horned Serpent." She gives Mark a once over, "maybe… no." She sneers.
"Not even me," Arc wiggles his eyebrows at her.
"No," she doesn't hesitate.
"Well," Scotley interrupts. "As fun as that conversation was," she glares at Tatum. "I think I'm going to try to get some rest before we get there." She looks at Thatcher expectantly.
He nods his head in agreement, "yeah, I think that's a good idea. We've got a big night ahead of us."
"It's about time we go, anyways," Mark says. "It was so nice meeting all of you!"
Once Mark and JR leave, Thatcher, Scotley, Arc and Tatum fall into an uncomfortable silence. The first three share a look. The sooner they can get out of this bus, the better, they all seem to say. Thatcher glances at Tatum, who is already leaning up against the window, her eyes closed.
"We probably only have an hour left," Arc says, sinking down into the blue cushions on his seat.
"Plenty of time for a nice nap," Thatcher stretches and gets himself comfortable next to Scotley.
"I'm sleeping," Tatum says sweetly, but the venom in her voice is obvious.
Scotley starts to say something but Thatcher shakes his head. It's not worth the fight. The three of them follow Tatum's lead and fall fast asleep.
Next... Thatcher wanders the train and finds out more about his new home, the sorting ceremony, and wand selection...
And now we're gettin' somewhere! This chapter was a little rushed because I'm just too excited for the sorting ceremony!
Reviews are candy, feed me.
natalie
chapter one was 5,300 words, chapter two was 4,300 words, chapter three and chapter four were about 2,800-2,500 and chapter five is almost 6,000 and I haven't even finished it yet so next one is gonna be a long one compared to these past two