Are We or Aren't We?

Chapter 4 – Freedom

Stupid, Tristan muttered to himself, his eyes still closed but wet.  Stupid.  Stupid.  Stupid.  Why would anything have changed?  He ran his hand through his hair.  Cleared his throat.  And tried to suck it all up.  Around him, the school was quiet.  He got up from the bed and tiptoed into the hallway, and stared down it.  Deserted.  Just the blacks, browns, putrid greens.  Those were the only colours that seemed to count here.  Right now he was supposed to be in the mandatory study block.  But he'd told his homeroom that he'd be in the science lab and he'd told the lab that he'd be in homeroom. Old trick that actually worked around here.  All those damn rules, just made to be broken.  He'd done his share of that.  The stupid thing was that around here he only got caught for a fraction of the things he'd done – no one believed that anyone would actually dare to break the rules.

He walked down the hallway, then checked his watch.  He had another forty-five minutes.  He wanted to get out of here!  Wanted it so badly.  He'd never known this type of want.  Except with, with...he couldn't say her name. 

Tristan headed cautiously down the stairway, making his way towards one of the side doors.  If he could just get out for a few minutes, he'd be able carry that feeling of freedom for a week.  The door was straight ahead...then he heard footsteps.  Quickly, he backed his way into the nearest room behind him and then closed the door softly.  He stayed that way, leaning into the door, listening for the footsteps to pass by.  If he got caught now, they'd probably crucify him, judging by his recent track record. 

Then there was a cough from behind.  Disbelievingly, Tristan turned around, and stared straight into the eyes of Colonel Wick.  The Colonel gave him a cold smile. 

"Tristan, just the person I wanted to see," he said.  "Sit down please," he gestured towards one of the chairs in front of his desk.  Gingerly, Tristan sat down, evading the Colonel's eyes.  He knew that the Colonel was well liked and well respected, but he also knew – from personal experience – not to mess around with him.  At that thought, Tristan bit his lip wryly.  God, a month here and I'm already brainwashed.  A DuGrey deeming to worry about an insignificant Colonel?  Tristan tried to find his old familiar smirk.  But meeting the Colonel's eyes, any attempt dropped off his lips immediately.

"Yes, Tristan DuGrey.  A name I've been hearing a tad too often," the Colonel said.  "I don't think since you've been here a teacher has reported you bothering to do your homework once, you're uncooperative in class, you don't attempt to socialize, you're rude in class, you – do you realize I could go on and on?" he said, slapping his hand on the table.  Tristan flinched. 

"Yes sir," he said softly.

"Don't 'yes sir' me when you and I both know you don't mean it!" the Colonel said, his tone still soft but as sharp as a knife.  Tristan kept his eyes fixed somewhere on his shoulder, not daring to look in his eyes.  "Your teachers and I have had a few too many meetings about you.  But enough is enough.  Normally, a student such as you would have been expelled after his first week."  Tristan flinched once again.  Expelled – from military school?  Was that even possible?  "We don't have time for any of your crap here," the Colonel continued.  "But what I find strange is that all your teachers, despite your pitiful attitude, think that you're hiding something good behind that facade of yours."  The Colonel paused here, sarcasm dripping from every sentence.  Then his tone changed, and he forced Tristan to meet his eyes.  "I've done my own research, I've called Chilton, talked to the principal, to a few teachers.  And somehow, I'm finding myself agreeing with them.
So, you won't be expelled.  But we've decided to try a small experiment out on you.  You'll be doing some community work for a small town nearby – you'll be living with one of the townspeople and going to the local school for the time that you're there.  Understood?"  The Colonel's voice had switched once again, now stern and all business.

"What does community work mean?" Tristan asked, his voice shaking slightly. 

"I mean picking up garbage, cleaning windows, painting off graffiti, and all the rest.  As I've also had fairly good reports from your art teacher, you will also have the job to paint a mural.  Any more questions?"

"What did my father say?"

"Unfortunately, we were unable to reach him to inform him of our decision.  But he gave us leave to try anything in your case."  Tristan gave a small bitter smile.  Surprise, surprise. 

"I don't understand, sir," Tristan said quietly.  "Why?  What is the purpose - ?"  The Colonel gave a small sigh. 

"We're not really sure, Tristan.  But from what we can see, what we're doing now isn't helping you.  And that is our purpose, to help you.  And if your attitude stays the same way, we will be unable to do that.  So tomorrow, when you leave, try to make the best out of this.  You may find your work rewarding enough to start caring about your life again."

"Yes sir," Tristan replied. 

"Dismissed," the Colonel said.  Slowly, Tristan got up from his chair and headed towards the door.

"Oh, and Tristan -"

"Yes sir?" Tristan said, turning around.

"I assume you didn't have permission to be out of your study block?"

"No sir."

"Ten laps."

"Sir?"

"Ten laps around the track, Tristan.  What did you think I meant?  Tomorrow morning at 5 am, before you leave.  Don't be late," the Colonel said, a slight smile playing around his lips.

"Yes sir," Tristan said with a long sigh.  He stepped out of the room, closing the door carefully behind him. 

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