Identity Crisis
By Narkness
CHAPTER ONE
Foster's Home For Imaginary Genitals
The office was eerily free of speech and humane breathing patterns. Bella had, as a force of habit when nervous, distinguished each different noise. The tacky click of acrylic nails against keyboard keys. The soft, almost quiet whirr of the air conditioner. The computer, one of the new fancy IMacs, made a dreadful buzzing noise as it processed information at amazing rates. Worst of all, Bella could hear the receptionist's criticism from across the room.
Or…Benjamin was.
She hoped dearly she could pull this off. Her breasts were strapped severely flat against her chest, they almost looked like pectorals in the mirror. Her pants, shirt, shoes and rest of her clothes had all been covertly purchased from a backwater thrift store on the way here.
The receptionist shot up straight and tapped her Bluetooth headset with authority. Carol's delicate brows arched over the desk at the awkward teenage boy. "Mr. Foster will see you now."
Bella stood up and used the walk she'd practiced for the last week in the mirror. Her hips stayed stationery when she walked. With her suitcase in hand, she opened the oak door, hesitating only momentarily. Stepping into Mr. Foster's office was like stepping back into a decade where wood paneled walls were fashionable. It smelt of ancient books, scotch perfume and the fear of young men.
Bella was sweating profusely before the giant oak desk. The information she'd pulled together and faked wasn't nearly enough, but certainly the money was enough to buy a new wing for the school. Money buys everything. Money had bought her a plausible birth certificate as I.D.
Mr. Foster himself was a rather plump man, but towered over even the tallest of men. It was important in a job like this, to be feared just enough it could be passed off as respect. His thick, brown horn-rimmed glasses sat low on his nose as he perused the boy before him. He looked dangerously thin.
Benjamin James, according to the application before him. The boy had been homeschooled, and the contact numbers were obscure. Two mobile numbers and a home phone? Despite Mr. Foster's doubts due to the lack of parental accompaniment, the kid had a handwritten letter, a schooling application signed and pre-paid for in cash and a covertly disguised wad of cash within the envelope. Mr. Foster had almost choked on his own oxygen at the sight of it. The library was in serious need of repair…
It wasn't much of a decision to make. The boy would be safe from whatever caused him to be visibly shaking here and the library would be teeming with new books, new furniture, new computers and possibly have enough left over to really fix the hole in the roof.
"Welcome to Forks, Mr. James."
The rich expensive looking hallways faded when Bella reached the wing of dormitories. The floors, instead of rich white marble, were a cheap, yet easily cleaned vinyl. The colour scheme was the same, yet didn't quite have the same well kept sparkle. A deep sky blue on the walls and white paneling were the same match as the new uniforms she hefted. But the ties were a broad red. A navy blazer? Grey pants? White linen shirt?
In all honesty, Bella thought it looked a bit heavy for such nice weather. The only thing weather appropriate was the sports uniform. Navy shorts. White cotton tee. Sweet.
Bella thoughts ran over random trivial things, like her new schedule that she would receive tomorrow morning. The tour, given personally by the principal, was impressive. This was why parents sent their children to boarding school… There was no graffiti in the bathrooms, on the lockers, the walls. The classrooms were new and fresh. Computers were unblemished.
Either they had magical cleaning elves, or equipment was replaced each year. Bella guessed the latter was most likely, boys weren't that respectful of property. What surprised her the most was the bareness of the hallways, free of boys.
A glance at her watch told her, according to her estimation, the three hour period for dinner time had arrived. On weekends, the cafeteria was open from six until ten for all day food. Wow. …and Bella's stomach was rumbling like a caged cat in a car.
Her steps hastened, as she approached her room number. 121/5. 123/5. 125/5. She was practically running now. 127/5! She jammed the tiny key in the lock and twisted it sharply. It opened cleanly, like brand new, no jiggling the key nonsense
Her first thought was the assaulting scent of man. It was a rich, yet very clean scent, like rain and…sandalwood. Yet, the room looked almost untouched by another human. To the right, two cleanly made beds with navy bed sheets and bedside tables. She stepped in and closed the door firmly behind her. Her jaw dropped as she took in the entire sight.
The room was huge.
To her left, was giant cupboards and in between, a cream door. She discovered it to be the way to a small, yet pleasant bathroom. Compared to sleeping in the back of her car for a week, this was perfect.
She dropped her uniform and suitcase before the end of the empty bed. Bella noticed the subtle items her roommate owned. His alarm clock was an sophisticated IPod dock. Hidden away in the corner near his cupboard, was a portable, yet expensive keyboard. His school bag had been dumped on the end of his bed. His dirty clothes sat in a wicker basket on the floor.
Disturbingly clean. Musical. Most likely dripping with money.
She forwent unpacking her things. What was the point? Food called, but she wasn't quite prepared to face boys in a cafeteria. Bella slipped out of her shoes, and patted down her pockets. A half-eaten, half melted chocolate bar. A packet of sesame snaps. A stick of gum. Three packets of McDonalds sugar. A few dried apricots.
She was in the process of devouring the lot when three, very handsome, half-naked, dirty and sweaty boys burst into the room.
I never really did intend to post this story. But, I can't sleep and I need to do something with my time. Don't expect regular updates on this, but badgering helps.
It's been a long time since I've posted anything, and in between starting a new year of school and Youtubing and getting stupidly excited, my writing has fallen by the wayside. I'm going to try to post every WEEK! YAY! ...
Tell me how you felt about it or you'll never get a juicy description of three very naked torsos. Sex sells.
- Narkness.
