Nepenthes: Chapter 3 – Sticks in the Mud and a New School

A memory is a beautiful thing, it's almost a desire that you miss. – Gustave Flaubert

The three managed to finish shopping without incident, and returned to Ash Lane shortly thereafter. As the two magical people were leaving for London the next day, James said his farewells, and promised to write, via Hermione's parents. Laying down on his bed, he mentally reviewed the things Liam told him that he could pack, so he wouldn't forget anything tomorrow in his day of packing. He undid his wristcuffs, glancing at the scars that rested there. Turning up his headphones again, he listened to a new CD. Pulling out a black leather notebook that he had hidden under the bed, James moved to the desk in his room. Pulling out a set of pencils, he sketched a face that was just at the edge of his consciousness. Dark, slightly unkempt hair fell in blue eyes, and a few days stubble rested on the man's chin. No scars marred the features, and his face was in an expression of laughter. This person was happy, and trustworthy, James thought. It was a familiar face. He didn't know how, but he knew that he saw it often. He fell asleep, face down on the desk, sketching the eyes in greater detail. Warm, caring eyes that soothed him.

Grace came into his room, turning off the overhead light, and as she couldn't move him, wrapped him in a blanket. "Oh, James. Sleeping again." She brushed his blonde hair with her fingers, and removed the pencil from his hand.

She paused at the doorway, and smiled, knowing how scarce sleep was for the teenager. Grace shut the door quietly, and walked into her bedroom, just down the hall.

James O'Brien stepped out of his father's car and looked at the stone buildings before him. He was on a campus of old buildings, but he was certain that he had seen older before. The students were from ages 11 to 18 that he could see, and all were dressed in identical blue blazers, with red blue and gold ties. He felt every set of eyes in the courtyard on him, but shrugged it off.

"Welcome to St. Ignatius, James," Liam said, draping an arm on his son's shoulder.

James lowered his sunglasses, and adopted a rather neutral expression. Not wanting to offend his father, or to be completely sarcastic, he opted for something safer. "It's nice."

"Liam," a young Jesuit called from across the yard. "I didn't know that you were coming back so soon."

"Brother Benjamin, I guess. Didn't know that you joined the Society. It's been so long," he said, taking the man's hand in a firm handshake.

"Who's this, Liam?"

"Ben, this is James. My son."

Benjamin donned a confused expression. "I thought you were just married two years ago."

"I'm adopted," James replied decisively.

"Yup. And he's excellent with taking care of our wee babe, Patrick. I always wanted at least two sons. I have two of the best in the world," he said, smiling at James.

"Well, what say I give the two of you a hand with James' things and we get you settled?" Ben said, changing subjects quickly. James and Liam each brought a suitcase, and Benjamin carried a garment bag.

James could hear the whispers as he walked past the returning students. Resisting the urge to bait them, James simply ignored them, bringing his shades back up. "Weirdos," he muttered under his breath.

They came to a small room with his name outside the door. Inside were two beds, two desks, and a wardrobe on either wall. James claimed the unmade bed and set his suitcase down on the floor. On the desk were several books, but James didn't look at the titles just yet.

"Well, Mr. O'Brien, we will be having a Floor Meeting just before dinner so that the newer students can get acquainted with the old hands. Get dressed in the uniform before then, please. Liam, I have things to attend to, but it was great to see you again. Don't be a stranger."

James tossed his sunglasses on the desk and emptied a few things out of his pocket, as the Jesuit left the room. He surveyed the room, and the view out of the window.

"So, James. What do you think?"

"Well, it's, uh, a new experience. I mean, I don't think I've ever been to a Catholic boarding school before," he replied, setting his largest suitcase on the bed.

"I'll admit, it is a wee bit of a culture shock at first, but once you get used to it, you'll find it's nearly second nature. Why don't you start unpacking and I'll read you the rules so that you can get two things done at once? That way you'll know where everything gets put," Liam asked, pulling out the chair from the desk and picking up the thinner of the four books.

James just said, "Okay," and opened his wardrobe. Beginning with his pants and socks, he unpacked all his clothes as his father droned on about morning prayers, proper use of the uniforms, curfews, and the like.

"… And your mum and I expect a letter once a week," Liam instructed.

"About what, da?" James asked, confused.

"Your marks, your friends, your sports. Anything. Everything, okay?" Liam asked as James took his hanging clothes and placed them in the wardrobe, then moved down to arrange his dress shoes.

A knock came at the doorway. "Come in," said Liam.

A boy about James' age walked in, already dressed in the blue blazer and tie of the school. "Hello, my name is Jonathan Spencer. I'm one of the guys just across the hall. Brother Ben asked me to see if you needed any help."

"Liam O'Brien. This is my son, James." Liam said, shaking the boys hand.

James gave a half-wave and said, "Hello, mate," but it was muffled by the inside of the wardrobe.

"My son. A man of few words if ever I knew one. James, come out of the wardrobe?" Liam said, mock-sighing.

James hit his head on the inside of the cupboard. "You stick your head in a wardrobe, then give yourself a concussion and see how talkative you are, da. Hi, Jonathan. It's James."

"James, you got everything out of the boot?"

"Aye, remember, we made it in one trip?" he opened the second suitcase which had non-uniform items in it.

"Well, I've got a drive ahead of me. You have a good term and we'll see you at Christmas, James."

James stood again and hugged his father. "My love to mum and Trick. Drive carefully."

Liam left, leaving James and his floor mate alone. "He's a bit talkative, but a good da."

"You're a bit quiet, aren't you?" Jon asked, looking at him a bit skeptically.

"Not usually. Just not verbose. I am rather concise. What do you like to be called?" James asked, unpacking a shirt with every sentence.

"Jon or Spencer is fine," he replied in a soft Welsh accent. "How about you?"

"James or O'Brien. I've never been called Jim, and I don't know why, but Jimmy makes me homicidal." James smiled as his new friend paled. "It was a joke, Jon."

"You smiled," Jon said, falling off the bed.

This made James laugh heartily. He picked up the rosary packed in his suitcase and set it on the desk. "What? Not allowed to smile because I'm dressed like a Goth?"

"It was unexpected. You know what they say, that the clothes usually make the man," Jon replied, recovering from the floor.

James went back to the suitcase and started laughing uncontrollably.

"What is it?"

James held up a package of cotton balls and nail polish remover. "My mum," he said, between gales of laughter. "She's too smart for me."

Jon smiled with him.

"So you actually look normal without the black makeup and stuff," Jon said after the meeting that afternoon.

"That's what my neighbor said the first time that she saw me without the makeup," James said, pulling at his tie. "I hate these nooses."

"I think everyone does. So have you given any thought what you want to do while you're here?"

"What?" James asked, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I'm in the odd club or two, but I play rugby. You should try out, we've got openings on the team."

James laughed again. "I've never even seen it played before," he said, returning to his room.

"Well, then I have a book that I can loan you. But you're not getting off that easy due to ignorance," Jon said, pausing at the door. "Hi, Peter."

James did a double take. His previously absent roommate was there. "Hi. James O'Brien."

"You're Irish."

"Brilliant observation, Holmes. Next you'll be telling me that I am a Catholic too," James said, sarcastically.

"Come on, James, let's go to my room," Jon said, pulling his friend's arm. "I've usually got a stash of otherwise forbidden sweets… mum is almost religious about putting them in my things. But you can't tell my roommate or yours. Sticklers for rules, you know."

"What the hell is his problem?" James breathed, as he moved out of his own room.

"His father works for Scotland Yard. Was injured in an IRA action. Doesn't like the Irish as a result," Jon said. "I wonder if we could get the Brothers to switch you and my roommate. He's too proper for me. Otherwise, you might be dead before the week is out."

"I don't know, Jon. I just unpacked," James said, half-smiling, sitting on Jon's bed.

"Hello, Jonathan. How are your mother and father?"

James suppressed a smile.

"Well, Andrew. They send their greetings," Jon said, not quite serious.

"That is excellent. Who is this fellow?" he said, taking notice of James for the first time.

"James Edward O'Brien, from Reading." James shook his hand.

"Andrew Munro Kirk, from Edinburgh. Is this your first year at St. Ignatius?" he asked, cordially.

"Yes. It's been interesting so far."

"Yes, I daresay so. I mean, you were dressed in such noteworthy attire earlier," Andrew said.

"Yeah, I guess that's one way of putting it. And I just met my roommate. He doesn't like me already. And he didn't see me for more than 5 seconds," James said, fussing with his hair again. Liam had urged him to have it cut, and he hated the length it was now… it was too short and spiky for his liking.

"Andrew, you were rooming with Peter last year. Would it be alright with you if I asked the Brothers to switch you and James? You actually get along with him," Jon said, fingering the things on his desk.

"I suppose that would be acceptable. I have a prefect meeting in about 10 minutes, and I can bring it up then. So glad to meet you, James."

"Pleasure, Andrew," he said, then nodded as Andrew left. "Holy shit. Is he always like that?"

"Unfortunately, since he started being considered for prefect, yes. And I don't want to be stuck with the campus rule enforcer for the next year or so. Any luck, he'll make a convincing argument, and you'll be moving your stuff after dinner."

"Thanks, mate. So where can one find girls around here?"

"At an all-male boarding school? Or at Ursuline, the all girl sister school that provides the cheering squad for our rugby games?" Jon asked conspiratorially.

"Ah, so you trying to get me to play rugby is also helping me to get a date?" James asked.

"You said it, not me." Jon said, tossing him a candy bar from his desk stash.

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