Welcome to Redding Military Acadamy of North Carolina

Tristan read the sign with some apprehension. His father grabbed his arm firmly and guided him through the square metal doors.

The previous night had been a disaster. After Rory and he had returned from the Cape, he had rushed home to confront his dad, only to find him missing. A social party in uptown Hartford, his mother had informed him. She refused to say anything on the subject of Military school, and he had stormed out of the house in a blind rage. He knew where the party was; he'd gotten an embossed invitation himself.

When he arrived he pushed through the double doors himself, not waiting for the doorman. He spotted his father shmoozing with several high class ladies, all done up in finery for the event. He stepped through them rudely, scandalizing them in a single step.

"Dad," he said through gritted teeth, "We need to talk. Now."

"Ah, Tristan, so good of you to join us. Have you met--"

"Dad! Unless you want to explain to me right here why you are sending me away, we need to leave!" several bystanders tittered at the unseemly volume of his voice. He wasn't even properly dressed--he wore blue jeans and a t shirt.

Mr. DuGrey cleared his throat. "I must apologize, ladies, but it seems our discussions must wait for another night. Come on, Tristan." They left the guests to a riot of gossip and rumor, and drove off.

-

"Dad, what's going on?" Tristan demanded in the car.

"Don't you ever embarass me like that again! Clearly several months at the acadamy will so you some good."

"I'm not going to an acadamy. I'm staying at Chilton."

"You will do as I say." he paused. "Your mother and I have some business to attend to in Europe, and unfortunately there is no where else for you to go."

"I can stay any where, dad, I can even stay at a hotel! Let me stay in Hartford. Please." Tristan tried for the passive approach, allowing his voice to take on a wheedling note. Alas, it was to no avail.

"That's enough! I refuse to have my word questioned and as such you will attend this school whether you want to or not!" his father roared, and Tristan sat back in his seat; fuming.

-

Now as he passed through the doors of his new school and home, Tristan had given up the idea of escape. He had only an hour to pack nefore his family had flown him by private jet to North Carolina, and he hadn't even said goodbye to anyone yet.

The lobby of the building was stark and orderly. The actual room itself was cavernous, and there was one small dest at the far end of the room. A man in full uniform sat behind it, staring straight ahead.

While Tristan's father signed him in, he pulled out his cell phone and tried Rory's number. No answer. He called her house and after what felt like a thousand rings, someone picked up.

"Hello, Luigi's pizzaria, what can I do for you?"

"Um...Ms. Gilmore?"

"Bible boy! Nice to hear from you. I take it you havent had your brain removed yet?"

"Uh--no. Is Rory there?"

"Sorry, you just missed her. Well actually if you called an hour ago you would have just missed her. Paris called an emergency meeting for the paper. How are ya, kid?"

"As good as I can be, I guess. My father is signing me in now."

"Well, I'll tell her you called." he could tell her voice was full of sympathy.

"Actually, I don't think I'll be able to use this phone much longer. Can you tell her I said goodbye?"

"Sure thing, dude." part of him smiled at that. Dude.

"I emailed Richard with the adress, if she wants to write me. Tell her to send me stamps. I didn't get the chance to pick some up."

"Sure thing."

"Okay..." he lingered on the line a moment; his last connection to the real world. "Bye."

Aint life just peachy keen?

Thoughts please, they make me much happier than this "1024 hits, 6 reviews" business.