Hey gang! Thanks for your extremely kind reviews on the last chapter. I'm really glad you enjoyed it. So without further ado, I present you with the next chapter of Wawanakwa Academy. Enjoy!
Date: Monday, September 6th; 1st day of school
Time: 6:15 a.m.
Place: the Thompson Residence
"Grace, it's time to go to school!"
The young, 14 year old's eyes shot immediately open at the call of her mother's beckon, her senses overloading by the smell of buttery frying pancakes. The girl let out a satisfying, but tired groan, sitting up from the comfort of her bed. A pale fist went to go rub her right eye, a routine that could only be practiced in multitudes by the time that one had reached this age. Routine.
A sequence of actions, regularly followed. Grace certainly had a routine. She would get up, go brush her teeth, take a shower, change her clothes, read a book, hang out with her friends... the average vacationed teenager's memoir.
But this morning, she would have to fall into a whole different set of actions. For today, marked the first day of at least 180. 9th grade. Freshman year. New school. It had all been too exciting to fully comprehend.
Grace slowly stretched her limbs, her riled long black hair, tightly fastened into a ponytail. Bright and eager blue eyes, scanned the room frantically for a calendar to feast upon. Long sleeve, baby blue pajamas hugged her frame, and as she rises from her place of slumber. A pair of white polkadot slippers traveled across the carpeted floor.
A red rimmed calendar, came into display, exactly five days marked off in violent red pen in the month of September. The 6th day, circled, and above in bold font, 'FIRST DAY OF HIGH-SCHOOL'. Grace offered a groggy smile to no one in particular and quickly darted her attention over to the nicely ironed outfit, neatly laid out on the bed. Walking over to it, she took a moment to exam the contents: a red checkered shirt, a pair of jeans, and black with white polkadot shoes. It was nothing too fancy, but it would have to do.
She sighed almost reminiscently, looking at her reflection in a small mirror over her dresser drawer.
"This is it Grace."
She smiles, but her expression suddenly hardens. "Don't mess it up!" The girl points an accusing finger at herself as her face tightens into a forced frown.
"And now I'm talking to myself again, aren't I?"
"Grace! Breakfast is ready!" the same voice called again.
Her attention fell to the shut wood door. She could hear the clunky footsteps of her father traveling across the room, momentarily blocking the beacon of light through the small crack under her door. For a moment one would have thought that he was traveling to their bathroom, located down the hall, but the footsteps halted and instead backtracked from where he came, softly placing a knock on his daughter's door.
"Gracie, are you decent?" he chuckled.
A small smile replaced her once stern features as she rolled her eyes.
"Yes dad. I'll be down in a second."
Instead of answering, the man quickly twisted open the golden door knob, inviting himself in to enter her room.
"Dad!"
"What? I asked you if you were decent..." he trailed.
She ignored his comment, and traced over her bookbag, as if she was using X-ray vision to examine the contents.
Her father, Mr. Thompson smirked as he could almost see his daughter's nerves constricting her blood flow. "Hey sport, promise me not to be so nervous, alright? You can do this."
There was a pause between the two.
"I know," she uttered, a hint of uncertainty in her tone.
Mr. Thompson raised a curious eyebrow in her direction. Her words were flinty but her body language was unconvincing at best. He decided against objection.
"If you're sure." His smile matched hers. For Grace, it was like looking into a gender-reversed aging mirror. Mr. Thompson stalked out of the room, shutting the door softly behind him.
Grace ran trembling fingers through her hair, teasing it softly with her fingers.
"Grace! Your pancakes are getting cold!" her mother called out again.
The girl took a deep breath and smiled contently to herself.
"Coming!"
Time: 6:58 a.m.
Place: the Drake Residence
Click. Click. Click.
'I'm not as young as I used to be. I'll talk and you'll do the listening. We're in the most important pursuit in history. A search for meaning. What is-'
The clicking came to an abrupt halt as the solid bold cursor blinked in its place.
Matt tugged on his short red hair, his fingers retracting from the mouse pad.
"No. That doesn't seem right," he mumbles.
His right pinky clicked for the backspace and found its way back to home row.
'We're in the most important pursuit in history. The search for meaning. What is the nature of being human?'
Matt smiled at his work, and leaned back in his chair. The sun had just risen from its slumber, allowing some light to stream in from the open blinds. He shut his eyes tightly, embracing the effect of not embracing at all and shielding his hazel eyes.
He was tall in stature, carrying a visibly fit build. His hair was short and in the style of a flattop. His skin was of a darker color, and he sported an amber colored T-shirt with brown camo styled cargo pants, as well as a pair of boots.
A rhythmic beat cut through his thoughts like a knife. Beep. Beep. Matt shot one eye open, looking to the source of the sound. His laptop. Bringing up the screen, Matt could read aside a picture of an old fashioned timepiece.
'7:00 ALARM : Go to school'
Matt chuckled at how excessively blunt he could be with himself after reasonable hours.
"Well, I suppose I better go see what this school business entails. Good thing I already changed," he said to himself.
Matt stretched up and out of his seat. It must have been hours since he had been sitting there, working on his next entailment.
He thought back to a review that he had read over the summer, challenging the young author to stray away from his sci-fi mystery foundation and sighed.
"Remember Matt, the manager accepts the status quo, the leader challenges it."
He quickly grabbed a solid black knapsack and jogged down the carpeted stairs of his home.
"Morning mom," he smiled. Matt quickly grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl in the kitchen.
Ms. Drake, appalled at her sons presence, shrieked. Shooting up from her nap, the open book that was previously laying on the woman's face, dropped to the floor aggressively. The woman, who currently sported an apron covered in flour looked at her son with matching eyes.
"Oh... have a nice day at school sweetie."
Matt chuckled and met his gaze with that of his mothers. Her dark skin glistened in scattered beads of sweat.
"I'll try my best..." he trailed. A bite of his apple.
Ms. Drake yawned intensely, barely cupping her mouth with her left hand.
"D- Do you need a ride?" Another bite.
Matt gave off a sincere smile to his mother, walking closer to the distraught woman.
"Don't worry about it. I'm fine with taking the bus."
She shyly smiled back.
"If you say so." She got up from her position, going over to a sink full of used dishes and swiftly clicked on the faucet, allowing the water to run in a mediate stream.
"Just make sure to have fun and make friends. You work way too hard sometimes Matt."
Matt grinned at her then quickly glanced to the small clock that ticked above his mother's head. The short hand placed itself at the 7, and the big hand staggered been the 1 and the 2. He furrowed his eyebrows together in a skeptical stance and looked back over to his mother. She was staring at him, as if she was waiting to document his next move. Her light eyes never strayed from his line of sight.
"Well, you know what they say. An author's work is never done."
The woman let out a hardy chuckle.
"Right. And who exactly said that?"
Matt gave a toothy grin in her direction.
"I did... just now."
She closed her eyes and pinched the tiny bridge of her nose. She laughed.
"Matt, how does that even-"
But her words were cut short by the slamming of a door and as the woman looked up she could no longer see her son standing there. Peeking out across the window she could see him boarding the yellow school bus, giving a slight wave to her. Ms. Drake shook her head dramatically and resumed to pick up the book, that was once laying on the floor. It's title: Cyberland by Matthew Drake.
Time: 7:05 a.m.
Place: the Dent Residence
"Sophie! If you don't get out of this shower in 2 minutes, I'm busting down this door!"
Empty threats, she thought. The girl stepped out from behind the steam infested shower curtain, a soft white towel tightly over her bust, traveling down to her peach colored knees. Her light brown, usually voluminous hair was in a flattened state of long tangles and her long dark lashes glistened in the mirror.
"Coming Joey!" she hollered from behind the door. A series of stubborn mumbles followed, and Sophia couldn't help but have a good laugh. This was it. She was finally here. Wawanakwa Academy.
Sophia had heard some good things about the place, a few bad, but mostly good. And truth be told, she was excited. School had always been her forte since she could color in between the lines.
Sophia looked at her reflection as she gave her teeth a good scrub down. Spitting into the sink and washing her mouth, the girl quickly turned to a set of clothes laying on the hamper in the rather large bathroom. Observing her choice of dress, she smiled brightly holding up a pink and cream floral tank top.
"You only get one first impression right? Gotta make it count," she said to herself.
There was another vicious knock on the bathroom door.
"Sophie! I have to take a piss," the same voice complained.
She laughed while simultaneously rolling her large grey-blue eyes.
"Just give me a sec to change my clothes."
Within 30 seconds she was exiting the room, her two hands fiddling to put in a big diamond stud. Her attire consisted of the same floral top that she had held before, along with faded, torn denim shorts. She walked barefoot onto the carpet of the upstairs hallway and walked forward only to meet a sufferance of her brother Joey, his legs trembling and both hands desperately holding his crotch.
"A millennium later..." he mocked, rushing into the vacant vicinity. Sophia playfully rolled her eyes and grinned at her brother.
"What? No 'Good morning' Joe?" The pair spoke to each other through a locked door as if they were standing face to face.
"Not today," he grumbled. There was nothing too good about this morning. A field day to the studious; a nightmare to the negligent.
But Sophie knew that not even her brother's negativity could ruin this day for her. She was finally on her way. Sophia travelled down the stairs of her home where her father waited for her, a plate of warm eggs and bacon radiating a smell around the house.
He, who was dressed nicely in a suit smiled warmly to his daughter.
"Morning Soph. Hungry for something to munch on?" Mr. Dent gestured generously to the plate. A smile settled on the 15 year old's features.
"What's the occasion? I thought you'd be at work by now." Her father focused his intense stare.
"Well," he took a seat at the table next to her and reached for her hand that wasn't gripping the fork.
Their house was like a palace. A long marble staircase, four spacey floors, and a grand chandelier on display for everyone to see the moment they stepped foot inside.
"I just wanted to do a little something to celebrate your first day at a new school. I can be at the law firm later, I just didn't want to miss this big day for my little girl."
Sophia genuinely smiled, taking another bite of her crispy Canadian bacon.
"Thanks dad. Although, you didn't have to do all this. I know you're really busy and-"
He raised a finger to her face, halting her speech in a blunt gesture.
"I'll never be too busy for you."
Her brother stalked down the stairs precariously joining the two of them in the kitchen, but not saying a word. Instead, he reached into the cabinets to scour for a nice piece of fruit, immediately leaving afterwards and heading upstairs to his room. Mr. Dent watched him with intent, but like the young man, didn't utter a single word. Sophia shuffled in her seat as she heard the door to Joey's room shut close.
"So... what are thinking of doing this year Soph?"
She swallowed the little remainders of her eggs and gulped down a glass of orange juice before answering.
"Well, I'm thinking of joining Cheer this year, and some other clubs..."
"Cheer," he raised both his eyebrows. "Well that must be exciting. I wish you the best of luck."
"Thanks." She nodded at him.
A deafening high pitched beep echoed from the watch that Mr. Dent was wearing.
"It's time for me to get to work Sophia," he pushed his weight up from the table where he sat. "I won't be home until late so please make sure that you and Joey are able to order something for dinner, okay?"
She nodded her head vigorously.
The man reached for the front door and was about to leave until he suddenly turned around.
"You know Sophia, your mother will be very proud of the lovely young lady sitting in front of me today."
Sophia froze mid crunch of bacon, and stared at her father with a look that could only be described as a look of confusion and discomfort. Her voice got low and protective.
"I know." A blunt two words were good enough to send her father her feelings of unwillingness in conversation. So instead, the man simply grinned weakly and left, leaving Sophia to finish her final piece of bacon.
Time: 7:08 a.m.
Place: the Harrison Residence
The savory smell of sizzling sausage permeated throughout the Harrison residence, a daily morning norm for the family of five. Already laid out on the table was an assortment of colorful fruit in the middle of six plates with a fair share of gourmet crepes on each plate. Today had been a special breakfast. Everything had to be perfect. The spices, the skillet, everything down to the tiny little chives that he put on the side of each plate had to have impeccable taste. As Gyro flipped his final omelet on the steaming skillet, a parade of footsteps made their way down the stairs of the home. Mr. Harrison along with Mrs. Harrison traveled groggily down to the kitchen where her son fixed them their meals. Four footsteps of giggling, girlish feet followed closely behind them.
His mother, with her tan brown skin let out a yawn, scratching her head momentarily from an annoying itch.
"Good Morning Luke," she smiled, taking a seat at the table, "What are you doing up so early?"
He focused his train of thought on the ready omelet, using a spatula to scrape it off and onto the large saucer to join the others.
"Just making some breakfast, that's all," he answered with a jolt of enthusiasm. His mother smiled sincerely and looked around the table at the vacant seats. Smiling, she raised a curious eyebrow at the teenage boy. He was of average height and admittedly, bigger in terms of size. Gyro had tan skin and black hair done into cornrows, meeting each other in the back to tie into a ponytail. A peach fuzz sat contently on his chin. His attire consisted of a football jersey, the number '24' on the back. Over it was a black jacket with red and white artistic designs on it. Faded blue jean shorts was his selection of pants with white tennis shoes. He had a gold hoop earring in his right ear. Shielding his bold black eyes were a pair of brown sunglasses. A dirty apron draped around his neck. A blue cap sat next to him on the kitchen counter.
"Ah, I see we're a party of six today," his father butted in. "Is Jordan coming over?"
Gyro walked over to the table, sharing out a cheese and ham omelet to each plate there, casting his gaze upon his father.
"Yeah." He paused. "I mean if that's ok with you guys."
Mr. Harrison made a hardy laugh, holding his stomach.
"Of course. You know Jordan is like a second son to us, Luke," he joked.
Gyro didn't reply, but instead smiled.
As if right on time, the doorbell rang out with valor.
"That must be him," Gyro said. He distributed an omelet to his little sister before rushing over to open the door. Lo and behold, there his friend was, standing with a backpack slung over one shoulder, and a soccer ball gripped under his right arm. The two had befriended one another over the summer, when they met at the local park. Jordan was fiddling on the empty field and Gyro had taken his sisters out to play on the playground. One thing led to another and the two became close friends.
The boy had dark brown skin and stood at an average height. His almond shaped eyes were of a dark brown color. His hair was black, styled into a buzzcut. He wore a white T-shirt under a plaid black, white and grey checkered shirt with blue jeans and black canvas high top sneakers. Across his neck, a tattoo could be seen in black ink, reading 'Loyalty'. Moving down, Jordan wore a silver rosary necklace.
"Hey Gyro," he smiled, entering the house. The boy removed his shoes routinely before stepping into the Harrison's kitchen.
"Morning Mr. and Mrs. Harrison," he waved, "little ones." Jordan nodded to Gyro's two little sisters who smiled back at him.
"Ah I see you prepared for my arrival," he joked, acknowledging the sixth plate at the table. "How did you know I didn't have breakfast yet?"
Gyro carelessly shrugged. "Lucky guess?"
Jordan chuckled taking a seat at the table next to one of his sisters. "That's an answer I can accept." He reached for an omelet, scraping it into his place, and pouring himself out a glass of milk.
"Mmm," he moaned, taking a bite "You still know how to make 'em, Gyro."
"Still?"
Jordan swallowed.
"I'm just teasing." His eyes traced over to his watch.
"Wow, we better get going. School is in 20." He took a moment to look at his friend. "And you're not even dressed?"
Gyro grinned, setting the skillet back down on the stove, allowing it to cool.
"Okay, mom. I'll go get ready right now."
As Gyro headed up the stairs, the remaining five continued to munch on their food.
"So Jordan," Mrs. Harrison spoke. "Are you excited to be going to school in a new country?"
Gulping down his milk, Jordan smiled.
"Well, it's going to be a new experience for me. I just hope that the Canadian school system doesn't stray too much from how it was in London. Change can be good, or change can be bad. I'm trying to view this one as a positive change."
Mrs. Harrison nodded at his answer.
"It's great that you feel this way. How is your family settling in? Do you need some help with any unpacking?" she asked.
"Thank you for your generous offer Mrs. Harrison, but we're actually almost done. Just a few more knickknacks here and there, and we'll be set."
She clasped her hands together.
"Oh, how exciting. I'm happy for you guys... So, you hoping to join the soccer team?"
Jordan looked down at his empty plate and then back up.
"I sure hope so... if I'm good enough."
Mrs. Harrison playfully rolled her eyes.
"Most definitely. Y'know, Gyro showed me that video of you playing in the UK. You're really talented," Mr. Harrison commented.
A blush began to creep up on Jordan's face. "Thank you both, really." He carefully placed his plate inside of the family's kitchen sink.
"I just hope that this year goes well for both me and Gyro. He's such a kind, hardworking guy, y'know? He deserves his junior year to be something great."
"And it will be..." Mr. Harrison traced, "at least I hope it will."
Just then, Gyro made his way down the small staircase, now redressed into something new. He wore a blue cap placed sideways on his head. His shirt changed to light blue under a dark blue open jacket. Instead of an apron tied around his neck, a pair of yellow headphones took its place. The rest remained the same.
"Ready to rock?" Gyro smirked.
"Only if you're ready to roll."
The two approached the door, opening it and letting the sunlight into the house.
"Bye Mr. and Mrs. Harrison!" Jordan called out.
"See you after school mom and dad."
Those were their final words before the two left for the bus stop.
Time: 7:15 a.m.
Place: Muskoka Park
'Close your eyes, count to ten... make a wish. Focus.'
The young 17 year old repeated the words in his head, over and over until he could reach a state of piece. But with all of the pestering mosquitoes whizzing around him, that goal got harder and harder to reach.
Nahliel grunted frustratingly, gripping his temples in desperation.
"Okay, don't freak out. Just concentrate like grandfather said. You can do this."
1...2...
"Woohoo! Keep it up!" a loud voice interrupted.
Nahliel almost screamed, prying his eyes open and looking around. Not too far from him, a girl who looked to be about 18 years of age sped around the track, yelling words of encouragement to herself.
"Doing great Shann!"
Nahliel watched the girl with a raised eyebrow as she mindlessly, in his opinion, raced against time.
This girl must have been crazy. But getting her to stop was his best shot of focusing before school so it was worth a shot. He uncrossed his legs and stood from his position. In a good view of him, the boy stood at a tall height. His skin illuminated almost a literal white color and his hair contrasted greatly, in a solid black short spikey quiff. His eyes were of an emerald green shade and he wore a red V-neck shirt under a black leather jacket. For pants, he wore simplistic black jeans, as well as red converse.
He walked over, approaching the gate surrounding the track.
"Excuse me, miss..." No answer, the girl continued to run, making obnoxious noises.
"Excuse me," his voice heightened.
"Hey you!" he yelled.
The girl halted in her place, looking over skeptically to the boy trying to catch her attention.
She smiled enthusiastically, removing her black headphones from over her cap and rushing over to him.
"How may I help you kind sir?" she beamed.
Nahliel simply looked at her. For a Monday morning, this girl was certainly excited.
"Um," he straightened out his spine. "I'm trying to meditate over there," he gestured with his thumb over to the spot under a large oak tree as to where he was previously sitting. "And you're... yelling, is distracting me. Could you maybe tone it down a little?"
Shann let out a hardy laugh as if the boy had said a joke, but as the laughter went on and she realized that he wasn't laughing with her, she stopped.
"Oh, you were serious?" He slowly nodded.
"Sorry, mystery man, but no can do. Yelling while I run kind of gets my adrenaline up for the day. Gotta be pumped for the first day of school y'know?"
Nahliel rolled his eyes and then looked back to the girl, actually taking this chance to really see her. She was an African-American teen, slim and tall. Her brown hair was braided down and her eyes were a grayish-black. She wore a pink forward baseball cap with a giant 'B' on it. A light orange and white checkered scarf was tightly tied around her neck. She wore an armless red jacket with a 'B' painted in gold in the middle. She had 2 orange arm warmers tied on either arm, as well as blue jeans and a pair of black Nikes.
"Well that's just," Nahliel paused for the right word, "unreasonable."
Shann just smiled again. "Why do you need to meditate anyway? Isn't it better to live in the moment, than to spend your time thinking about it?"
Nahliel was taken aback. He offensively placed two hands on his hips.
"Maybe to you. But, meditation to me is finding yourself. Ojichan ga itteita: It is the power of the mind to be unconquerable."
There was a pause between the two as Shann stared into his green eyes, looking for something.
"Well... have you found him yet?"
Nahliel's eyes shot open in confusion.
"Wh-Who?" he stuttered.
"You. You said you were trying to find yourself right?... The only you that I see is standing right in front of me. There can't be another. There's only one true 'you'. Is this..." she gestured to where he was standing, "him?"
Nahliel's eyes darted back and forth to scan the girl. This couldn't be happening. This random nutball couldn't be trying to council him on a topic that he clearly knew more about. He looked for any trace of mockery in her, but couldn't find the slightest clue.
"I... I don't have time for this! I," he pinched the bridge of his nose, "I need to focus."
As Nahliel turned to walk away, he couldn't be helped but be mesmerized by the girl's voice again.
"Why are you having so much trouble focusing? You focus on what you love, right?" she asked.
Without turning around, Nahliel focused his gaze on the branches of the oak tree.
"You wouldn't understand."
Shann shrugged from behind him, imprinting her eyes into the back of his head.
"Well, did you try to breathe?"
Bingo. It's like something just automatically clicked inside of his head. Of course! How could he be so blind to something so obvious. He was so caught up in struggling to live for the later, that he forgot to breathe for the now. Nahliel whipped his head around to face the girl but by the time he looked, she was already gone. He sighed and scampered back under the oak tree, recrossing his legs and closing his eyes.
"Okay, let's try this again." And this time, he remembered to breathe. And to think that he didn't even get her name.
Time: 6:18 a.m.
Place: the Ainsworth Residence
"Forsythia! Will you come down now?" a voice called from a distance. The girl by the name of Forsythia smiled at the sound of her aunt's voice, darting her attention to look at herself one last time in the mirror. The red head definitely leaned to the shorter side in regards to height. Her hair was elaborately styled into large sausage curls, pinned behind her ears with a yellow ribbon. Over her head was an overly dramatic wide-brim sunhat, a rose shaped hatpin fixing it into place. She bat her long eyelashes over her blue green eyes. Her skin glows a pearly dusted white as a yellow necklace sits upon her neck. She wore a nice white blouse, sunflower printed frilly yellow skirt, and black Mary Janes. Her matching white tights and white kid gloves completed her look of elegance.
"Okay, I'm ready," she responded.
As Forsythia exited her room and walked down her staircase, one could only compare the moment to that of a movie's. She held her head up high, walking down and taking each step of her entrance into consideration. Her aunt, waited anxiously below, her hands clasped to her chest in awe as she watched her niece make a scene.
"Oh honey," she gasped, "You look divine!"
Forsythia nonchalantly placed one gloved hand on her hip, and looked naturally to the side.
"Thank you," she smiled, "Appropriate enough to go to school?" She raised an eyebrow. Of course she already knew the answer. She looked good, but the satisfaction of hearing it from another person was just as rewarding as knowing it yourself.
"More than appropriate. You can never look too lovely for first impressions right?"
Forsythia simply smiled at her aunt in gratitude.
"Oh Forsythia, you are going to love this new school!" she beamed. "I've riled through many pamphlets online about it, and I think that you are going to simply adore being here."
Her aunt set out an arrangement of folded substitutes, each one with some kind of arranged picture of Wawanakwa Academy on it.
Forsythia picked one up, and carelessly flipped through it, only really paying attention to the information in bold.
"Just look at how many things you can get involved in."
Forsythia's glare tightened, focusing on a properly placed list of activities for the students. On it: different explanations of various modern sports such as Football or Soccer, and to the left, a few choices of clubs. Forsythia frowned at the print and turned back to her aunt.
"I don't see a crocheting club or anything or the sort on here."
Her aunt's expression hardens. "I suppose not... Yes, well, you know how these Canadian public schools can be. These things may be a little outdated for them to subject themselves to it."
Forsythia rolled her eyes. Typical.
Her aunt cut into her train of thought. "But who knows, maybe you can find something that you really enjoy."
She smirked in amusement.
"Really... what do you propose?"
"Well," The woman paused, frantically flipping through the pamphlets to find the right one.
"There's a Glee Club, hm? Doesn't that seem interesting?" Forsythia looked at her aunt like she had grown an extra head. She crossed her arms over her chest.
"To put it in layman's terms, I can't sing for my life."
Her aunt fumbled, "Right, well, maybe-"
Forsythia held a hand up to her, silencing her speech.
"Don't worry yourself. Everything will work out perfectly... I know it will."
The 15 year old went back to a mirror in the living room, fixing her hatpin precisely upon her head.
She quickly turned to face the older woman. "But I guess this is a good opportunity for me to start over with all that happened at my last school-"
The lady chuckled. "Oh don't remind me."
Forsythia smirked deviously at her aunt.
"Oh come on, you can't tell me that he didn't have it coming."
Her aunt smirked one to match hers.
"Okay, maybe he did."
The two shared a laughter of energy and remembrance.
"Well, I think it's about time we get going." Her aunt pulled her car keys from a tiny purse sitting on the table wood table. "Are you ready?" She slowly nodded as Forsythia gripped for her purse, heading out the door to her aunt's small, old-fashioned car.
Time: 7:19 a.m.
Place: the R. Harrison Residence
'But wait! There's more! If you call now, we'll throw in-'
"No."
Click. Certainly there were better things to watch.
The screen fizzed and a new image came upon a screen, focusing on an animated farmer and black and white cow.
"Oh look! It's Milky White! Milky White is a cowwww," the farmer spoke dramatically, dragging out the 'w' out in cow.
The boy watching the screen sighed, leaning his face against his right fist. "Mmhm," he mumbled.
The farmer continued, "Do you know what sound a cow makes?"
Click.
"Okay last try," he said to himself.
The screen fizzed for a second time to show a long haired, tan woman.
"Maria-" a thick Spanish accent resonated through the small speakers.
"I'm sorry Esmerelda, but I must do this."
"Maria no!"
"Yes!"
"No!"
Click. The screen clicked to black, and the teenage boy placed the remote down on the coffee table sitting next to him. He should've known that only weird shows would be on at this hour.
Rickie's eyes scanned over to a notepad laying next to him on a couch, catching his attention. He reached for it and flipped absentmindedly to what he wrote on the first page. Scrawled neatly in his handwriting, it read: 'Archive of My Favorite Poems'.
Ricky smiled sweetly, and flipped through the first page. Nothing like a good read before a long day of activity. The young man possessed skin of a brown shade to match his round brown eyes. He was of a medium height with an athletic build. His hair was orange, shoulder length and styled into dreadlocks. He wore a red T-shirt under a brown vest. On the back of the vest, it read in bold letters: 'Don't worry. Be Happy.' On his legs he wore blue cargo pants.
The first poem was a classic. "The Road Not Taken" by Robert Frost.
He read the first stanza aloud, clearly his throat shortly before.
"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and sorry I could not travel both. And be one traveler, long I stood. And looked down one as far as I could, to where it bent in the undergrowth."
He'd be sure to pack the pad into his book bag before he would forget, quickly zipping it up amongst the other contents. The house was empty, and he was all alone. His mom and Uncle Ray would most definitely not be home until he was long gone to school. At least they had left him a nice note.
Rickie got up from the couch and went upstairs into his room. He walked past his surfboard and scavenged through an open door. He continued to search.
"Come on... come on." His hands stopped on something large. "Aha!"
His large fingers clasped a pair of red, circular glasses, pulling them out from the drawer. Smiling, he placed it on his face, next pulling out a peace sign necklace. He smiled at his reflection from the mirror.
"Looking good." Ricky bursts into laughter and heads downstairs in a pair of white socks. He rushed to his fridge opening the door rather excitingly. In the ice box, a plastic covered plate of home made lasagna sat with a purple sticky note on top. Rickie grinned, pulling the meal from the fridge and reading the note.
'Breakfast :) Have a great day at school
-Mom & Uncle Ray'
Even when they weren't there, his family still managed to be there in heart. The small, close knit family had just moved to Muskoka, and Rickie was eagerly ready to enter the 10th grade. He even had a blue empty scrap book for the new memories.
Ricky sighed, and finished packing an assortment of colorful pens and notebooks into his bag. The bus would be coming in ten minutes, and he had to be one hundred and ten percent ready to face the world. At least that's what his Uncle had always said.
Throwing on a pair of brown sandals, Rickie rushed outside and walked down the street to the bus stop where three notably older kids stalked around the red stop sign. Ricky smiled brightly, approaching one of the boys.
"Hi..." he said.
The boy didn't respond.
"Um," he tried again, "Hi. I'm Rickie."
This time the boy pushed up his black hood, turning away from Rickie's warmness.
The remaining kids separated themselves from one another, the sole girl there looking so uninterested to the point of depressed.
Ricky frowned, holding his arms across his chest and looked down to the solid concrete ground; silently waiting until the bus arrived.
Time: 7:40 a.m.
Place: Wawanakwa Academy; North Wing; Auditorium
Back at Wawanakwa Academy, a group of eleven students lounged in the main office.
An impatient Albina paced back in forth, two pale hands placed tentatively behind her back. Defeated, she let out a strained groan.
"Where are they? They were supposed to get here ten minutes ago... And I'm tired of pacing."
Samantha who was filing her nails in the back snorted obnoxiously, fixing her gaze on the girl. "Then don't."
Scar laughed silently to himself, flipping through an album on his phone. A pair of headphones once again, sat over his ears, blocking a fair amount of sound from his senses. But somehow his ears would always be trained to hear the complaints of his friend.
"Just be patient, Albina. The buses are probably just late," he said assuringly.
"Well," she stopped in her tracks, "I would be able to if she," she pointed to Samantha, "would stop filing so loud."
Sam rolled her eyes, and continued to file louder, smirking at Albina. It wasn't long until the two broke into an argument.
Eyrik sat away from everyone else, in his own little corner. His pupils traveled around, observing the other's behaviors. He silently sighed, focusing his gaze on the two girls, i.e. Samantha and Albina who began to bicker over nothingness and frowned at the two's stubbornness. He made a mental note of that before turning to the other side of the room where a small group of three sat: Smith, Liam and Eli.
"Haha! I'm all in boys!" Smith cheered excitedly, placing down a full set of cards.
The two other males gathered together in the circle groaned.
"What!" Liam erupted, "that's not fair. How is that even possible?" The 16 year old boy had taken off his Wawanakwa sweatshirt to reveal an extremely tight green shirt. It seemed to the others that with every other movement that he made, his shirt got tighter and tighter, constricting his body. A small rip formed on the small of his back.
Eli looked up from his set of cards, raising a concerned eyebrow in Liam's direction.
"Um, is everything alright there?"
Unbeknownst to him, Liam's muscles tightened in desperation to rip his shirt even more.
"What do you mean?" he innocently questioned. Eli almost face palmed from the obvious nature of the situation but decided against it, only looking at him with wide eyes when the shirt continued to rip.
"I mean, your shir-" he didn't even get to finish the word before his shirt ripped completely off of his body, showing off his glistening chest and eight pack abs. Liam immediately started to flex his right bicep in admiration.
"Oops... was that me?" he chuckled.
Eli rolled his eyes and looked back at him with a new found confusion.
"Yeah, it kind of was."
"Good thing I carry spares. I'll be back."
Liam grabbed his backpack from off of the ground, taking slow and needy steps as he exited the office, allowing for roaming eyes to get an extra look.
"Why do I even bother?" Eli whispered to himself as the later left. Looking around the room, he spotted his friend, Adagio, sitting by himself quietly on a blue plastic chair. His head played low between his arms, and his feet played footsie with another on the carpeted floor. He was doing something with his hands, something that Eli just couldn't see from where he was sitting. He sighed, placing his cards down and going over to approach him.
"Hey Adagio. How're you feeling?" He took a seat next to him. Adagio focused his eyes on a small piece of notebook paper. He was scrawling something in pencil.
"Better," he muttered.
Eli sat there in silence as he watched Adagio draw. Even when he wasn't himself, he still managed to have that same intensity and valor when it came to his art. He was focused. On the corner the page, was a detailed sketch of something that could only be described to the simple mind as some kind of ink blot. His pencil strokes were stern and purposely crooked. In pieces, the drawing expressed darkness and ache but as the four corners came together, it somehow created something beautiful. Eli couldn't interpret it to its fullest potential, but decided that this wasn't the best time to ask questions. Instead the two boys sat in silence, taking in the effect of just being in the moment.
From the opposing side of the room, Dove and Smith joined Claira who was flipping through a thin magazine.
"Hiya," Smith smiled.
"I'm Smith, and this is my companion Dove."
Dove smiled, waving a welcoming hand to blonde.
"Oh," Claira smiled. She stood up from her seat and looked at the two girls. "I'm Claira. Nice to meet you." She reached for the girl's hands and shook them each with confidence.
"A little formal, but I can roll with that," Smith laughed.
Claira blushed out of embarrassment, quickly retracting her hand. "Oh, well I hope so."
Dove and Smith shared a laugh, Smith wiping away an imaginary tear.
"Oh man, I like her already. You're pretty cool Claire." she smiled, butchering her name.
"That's a pretty cool necklace, Claira," Dove smiled.
Claira protectively grasped her gold locket and blushed feverishly.
"Thank you... my mom gave it to me."
Dove smiled, getting closer to the girl to get a closer look.
"May I take a look? If... If you don't mind?"
Dove looked down to the ground, concentrating on the patterns of the carpet. A look of uncertainty clouded her eyes.
"Uh... I guess so."
Dove bent down in a position and quickly clicked open the locket. Inside of it, was a beautiful woman, Claira's mom, holding a kind eyed baby girl in her arms.
Dove grinned widely before staring at the photograph. "Wow, she's gorgeous. Are you the little baby in her arms?"
Claira nodded her head slowly. "Yes, I am."
"That's so sweet."
"Thanks..." Claire's words slowed to a sloth resembling pace. There was a large pause between the trio.
"So..." Smith cut in, "what grade are you in Claire?"
"10th." she answered simply.
"Ah, like my buddy Dove. I sense you two will be good friends."
Claira shyly simpered. "I hope."
"Hey!" Dove beamed, "You should sit with us at lunch."
Claira widened her eyes in surprise, focusing her attention on them.
"Uh yeah. Sure, that sounds great!"
Meanwhile, Kara sat contently, watching her friend Claira talk to the two other girls. A faint grin crossed over her features. She looked down at her twiddling thumbs, concentrating on something in her mind; something that was bothering her. She sighed and looked over to the side of the wall, the top right corner piece stripping away, revealing a stained wood color. She had it all; a great worth ethic, lots of friends, and she was finally head cheerleader. This place was supposed to feel like a second home to her. So, why didn't it?
Just then the burst of the door caught everyone's attention and 22 eyes focused on the eager man standing under the frame. He rubbed his hands together mischievously.
"They're ready. I repeat... the students are ready. Everyone get into your groups, turn those frowns upside down and get your crap together... because it's show time!"
Agh. I definitely didn't want the orientation chapter to exceed 2 parts but I didn't initially realize just how much information I had to throw in there. So, hopefully next chapter would be the final part of the introduction, and then we can move on to the good stuff. :3 Thanks for reading everyone. Please leave a nice review if you enjoyed it. Until next time!