I'm absolutely pleased with all the nice reviews I've gotten. I noticed the biggest thing I've gotten comments about was Male-Lena. I find it funny. Well I owe a huge chapter for my loverly beta-reader WashuRight. She is bribing me with artand helping me with ideas through out this story.
Though it is never mentioned, this is set in a fictitious setting in modern day England, that way any errors I make I can claim are meant to be 3.
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Chapter Four:.: Sparkles and Sprinkles
Allen decided he'd need to keep track of how many times he'd feel awe towards this school. He slipped into the Dining Hall and felt his stomach and heart scream with glee.
It.
Was.
Huge.
The room was twice the size of the Music Hall, and filled with people who were scurrying about like mice. He spotted the line for the, for lack of better word, buffet. He stepped up, grabbing up a tray and looked ahead in line. His stomach rumbled even louder than before when he saw the platters of every food he had ever known of and some he had never conceived before. His mouth was watering heavily by the time he had reached the window to order from.
"Oh! All my stars! You must be that new boy that Director Cross brought in! You sure are a cutie you sweet little thing!" Allen nearly toppled backwards from the sudden attack of sparkles and sugar. The person working the counter was a young man with long dreads. His sun glasses gleamed and the wok in his hand was steaming.
"You know Cross? Wait, did you say director?" Allen blinked. Director? Did he mean to say that Cross, the jerk who hated kids, was a school district director?
"Yes I do, very scary man indeed. He'll cut your paycheck in a heartbeat!" The man seemed to gloom over as he said that. Allen supposed that he had experienced the pay cut. As if a coin, he flipped to a cheery face and gleamed. "My name is Jerry! What do ya want to eat, cutie? I can make anything you want!" Allen was sure he saw heart shaped confetti flying around him. Examining the menu on the wall, and the lay out of prepared meal behind Jerry, Allen grinned.
"I'll take a Combo D. Jambalaya with prawns. Three orders of Tempura Rolls. Umm…" He stared at the menu board that hung tauntingly, almost begging him to order more. "… three strawberry parfaits and four servings of dango please!"
Sir Jerry looked shocked that the kid was going to eat that much, but shrugged and prepared the food. He murmured something about a boy's appetite be insatiable. Allen silently pulled out his wallet and drew out a twenty pound note, which he had hoped was enough. Jerry had quickly positioned two trays of the delectable dishes though the serving window. Allen presented the bill in an ensured manor and had Jerry shoved his hand back at him.
"No." He said firmly. "As a student here your meals are a hundred percent covered. Now go eat and make friends, Mr. Cute-Sweet-Lil'-Thang." Jerry had done that sparkling tone again. Allen could also swear that he saw some heart shaped confetti fluttering too. But that had to be his imagination.
"Glad you could make it," said a wheezing voice. Toma scooped up one of Allen's trays and nodded towards a table with a few other occupants. "Order enough, Allen? You're not going to go hungry are you?" Toma teased with a hidden smile.
In response, Allen had gingerly picked up his tray and followed after him for the table, gently elbowing Toma. At the table were two people, a boy and a girl, who both looked to be some form of Asian.
"Oh ho, Fresh meat! Neh neh, Baka-Baku, who's this newbie?" The shorter of the two asked with a toothy grin. She laughed at her little play on words. "Baka-Baku" simply shook his head and extended his hand.
"This is most likely Allen, Fo. Remember? Toma was only just now talking about him. My name is Bak." He smiled when Allen shook it genuinely.
"Yea, I'm Allen, Allen Walker." Allen's own smile was bashful; Toma had been talking about him? "Where are you two from?" He asked tilting his head to an angle trying to place their accents.
"I'm from Tianjin and Fo," Bak had motioned to the girl who sat beside him, "is from Beijing."
Toma laughed at Allen's slightly confused face and whispered in his ear that those were cities in China. Allen nodded and sat with his trays, the elder sliding in beside him. "Say, what did you pick for your rec classes?" Instead of properly answering Allen simply slipped him the schedule sheet and Toma gasped, though it was only barley audible.
"You seriously got into that class?" Bak and Fo looked at Toma incrediously when his tone became so sharp. "He got into MTAP!" A set of jaws dropped.
"He got into that?!" Fo raised, smacking a hand on the table, nearly spilling her juice.
"Is that bad?"
"Bad? It's a-freaking-mazing!" Toma, claimed patting Allen on the back. "People can only get into the Music Theory AP class via recommendation. Normally people can only take that their second year because they have to audition. To get in right off the bat, you must be good. Only a D.D. can sign up kids."
"D.D?"
"District director, smart one," Fo barked.
Allen gulped down his last bite of parfait and frowned. Did Cross put him in the class? It was certainly possible that he really was doing this all for his own good, but that seemed rally odd to him.
The next twenty minutes of conversation revolved around what their recreation classes were. Fo, for instance, was in a Martial Arts class, a fencing, a boxing tactics class, and a P.E. AP class (who ever knew such a class existed!). Bak was involved in photography and some basic commercial design courses. Toma was a graphic design major. Some popular magazine ads were actually made by him, particularly the ones about book stores or psychic shops.
The bell finally rung and it separated the group. Fo and Bak had promised to help him with any directions he needed. Toma had probably told them about how he had become hopelessly lost. After assuring said boy that he would be fine to get to the music hall Allen started to walk there.
He wondered what kind of class it was going to be as he opened the doors. He heard the loud chatter silence when he entered. Everyone was staring. It wasn't a large class, somewhere between twenty and thirty students, but all eyes where on him. He knew they were taking in his hair, his scars, and his warped arm. At least Toma, Bak, and Fo had been nice enough to try and not gawk.
"Um. . . . . Hello?"
The response was loud, obnoxious, and rather scary too.
"Jesus H. Christ on a stick, Yu! Holy hell! We finally have a Brit in our class!" Before Allen could even comprehend what had just been said, he had a large boy with flaming red hair attacking him in a hug.