Young Writers Society

Hello there, LGF here with my first storybook.

Here's the DT

http://www.youngwriterssociety.com/viewtopic.php?f=200&t=99790

ST LUCIAN'S ACADEMY FOR TROUBLED TEENS

St. Lucian's (St. Luke's for short) Is a boarding school in the outskirts of London, for troubled teens. The teens there have problems from everything from stealing to drug addiction. Their parents are sick of them, or worried about them and ship them out to St. Luke's, were they attend for two years.

St. Luke's Info



Where you come in



Rules



Character Template


Okay so that's all, I'll have the DT up soon!

Have Fun,

LGF

*throws away cig butt* sure, mate. I'm in.

Awesome! Lets get this SB on the road!

*whoops* Creating character now.

I made one

Zaine Matthews

Music blared through my ears as we bolted down country roads, gravel skidding everywhere. I kept my head down and tried to focus on the music but my stomach was in turmoil. Why am I suddenly feeling nerves? I thought to myself. Maybe it was the fact that once I walked in there, everyone would know I had a problem.

Dad sat in the front seat, his gaze locked on the road ahead and his jaw clenched. I tried to ignore him. I looked around as the car slowed down. We'd pulled into a parking lot and behind it was the school.

St. Lucians Academy For Troubled Teens, read a large golden plaque on the front of the building. It was a large red brick affair, with from what I could see, a few ovals at the back. Great, I'm going to have to play sport. I thought bitterly. I looked around the carpark, a few cars but not many. Shoving my iPod into my pocket I got out of the car.

"Here." Dad said pushing my suitcase towards me. "Look, just try and do well at this school, okay?" He said, pushing a hand through his salt and pepper colored hair. I nodded and we shared an awkward one armed hug. I pulled my hood on as the car drove away.

The reception was warm and cosy, and the walls were crammed full of awards, making me feel self conscious.

"Hello, how may I help you?" Said a feminine voice. I started and nearly dropped my bag. I went towards the desk and there sat a rather plump woman with a hideous orange sweater.

"Uh, yes. My name's Zain Matthews, I'm meant to be starting today?" I said, she nodded and typed into her computer.

"Just leave your bag hear and go into the courtyard. Mr. Ryan will be waiting for you." She said. I nodded, dropped my bad and took a deep breath as I walked towards the door marked, "Courtyard".

Colton Ligouri



I turned the already loud music up on the car stereo smirking to my self as we turned into the school. I groaned to myself seeing the golden sign for this "Magical School" , as my mom put it.

"Colton," My mom started her voice shaking," I would love to tell you that you can come home, but you know that isn't a possibility right now."

"I know mom," I breathed giving her a one handed hug.

"Just please, try to stay out of trouble." She said leaving a red lipstick kiss on my cheek.

I wiped off the lip stick off my face and replied, "I think we both know that won't be happening."

I hopped out of the car and grabbed my duffle bag from the back alone with my black backpack. I slammed the trunk, blew my mother a kiss, and turned to face the school as she drove away.

I raised my arms above my head and groaned before walking through the gates. I slipped on my sunglasses and barged through the front doors slinging my duffle bag over my shoulder.

"Hey is this where I check in," I said to a woman sitting behind the counter her face in a book.

"Yes, your name please?" She said looking up from her book and her sweater.

"Colton Ligouri," I said bowing.

"Please leave your bags here and go to the courtyard," She said motioning to a door to the right of the counter.

I shrugged dropping my bag and bursting through the courtyard doors.

Basil Xecominos

It is those who are successful, in other words, who are most likely to be given the kinds of special opportunities that lead to further success. It’s the rich who get the biggest tax breaks. It’s the best students who get the best teaching and most attention. And it’s the biggest nine- and ten-year-olds who get the most coaching and practice. Success is the result of what sociologists like to call “accumulative advantage."

Outliers: The Story of Success, authored by Malcolm Gladwell, a grand total of 309 pages entirely about putting in 10,000 hours.

"This is the last stop kid," the overweight, overaged, and overworked bus driver called back in his phlegm filled voice, the edges of the white name tag missing its shining lamination thusly causing its grimy black border.

Shouldering my two once red and now wrapped in silver duct tape ten times over duffel bags, I trekked down the grooved walk way of the bus, clutching Outliers in one hand while using the other to keep my bags from banging in to the faux-leather seats covered in duct tape in a similar manner as my bags.

The moment I stepped on to the dirt road the driver closed the bus doors and went on his way, leaving me to walk the dirt road to St. Lucian's. My mother had wanted to drive me here, so she said, but had to work today. She had to work every day. I suppose it's easier to say things like that when you don't have to actually do it. I didn't mind.

***

"Leave your bags here." The woman at the front desk said, never looking up from her own book as I did with mine.

"That's alright, my cigarettes are in my pocket anyways." I joked, letting my bags fall from my shoulder.

"I don't find that funny." She glared, though I hardly noticed as I turned to the next page of my book and pushed through the door to the courtyard.

I tore my attention from Outliers for a fraction of a moment to take in everyone around me. As I suspected, 90% of the people wore shredded clothing, leather, boots, and/or had over four bodily piercings. Except one girl, who doted pigtails, a pink outfit, and a stuffed animal.

Turning back to my book I couldn't help but shake my head to my oxford wearing, dress shirt doting, cigarette possessing self.

Rachana

The bus came to a halting stop beside the large school, gravel and dust rose from the ground and enveloped the country bus in a rusty yellow vapour. Coughing violently, I wiped the sweat out of my mascara-lined eyes careful not to mess the make up. The bus driver gave me a strange look that lingered between fear and awe as I stepped off the bus with a somewhat off-kilter step, I stopped in front of the gate for a moment. Waiting while the bus roared to life and sped past me, the gold plague hung dully under the grey, stark sky and I snickered at the title silently.

'St.Lucian's Academy for trouble teens' Well, I bet the headmaster at this place is really creative. Snorting in disdain I strolled through the gate, feeling somewhat disappointed but also excited at the same time. I can't even remember the last time I had a half-decent meal or a bed, in fact, I still can't believe my good luck when the academy accepted my application. Guess I do have a way of fabricating things then.

I wondered about for a while before finally finding my way through to the front desk, a plump woman sat behind it. Glancing at a file with a grimace, she started slightly upon seeing me.

I smirked lightly, and leaned forwards. "Rachana Collyns. I have arrived, your majesty." I gave a mocking bow and grinned at her disgusted expression, well, she was the one who chose to have this job. Or maybe she didn't, I couldn't care less. Life never gave me much choice anyway.

"Go to the courtyard, Rachana." She snapped back at me drily, pointing with a limp finger to a door that lead to a large courtyard. Stepping out, I edged along the walls until I found a comfortable spot to lean in. Dumping my duffle bag onto the ground, I surveyed the 'students' around me. Most wore similar clothing to mine. Except for one kid, she was a bit different but then, I didn't exactly expect everyone to be exactly the same.

Slumping to the ground with an almost disquieting smile on my face, I took out my Swiss knife and made patterns on the ground.

Colton Ligouri



I watched as the students piled into the courtyard all looking completely lost and bored. A man stood up in front of all of us kids and said in a slightly annoyed voice.

"Welcome to school kids. All first years will be assigned a dorm mate and a room while you second years, well you know what to do. First timers, go over to the board the opposite side of the yard for dorms."

All the older kids humbled off casually elbowing people they knew as they walked by and into their rooms. I groaned as I stumbled over to the board with the other kids. I flipped up my hood to conceal my self and plowed through the crowd of leather jackets and black jeans. I stood at the front of the line my eyes dancing down the list of names till I found mine, across from it was a boy named Zaine Matthews. I sighed grabbing the key off of the hook next to my name and left the crowd.

I walked down the winding halls till I came to room 34, my new hell. I slipped my key into the lock, twisted, and bam I was in. I found that my bag had been delivered to my room and was now laying on a simple four poster bed.

"Home sweet home," I muttered to my self collapsing onto my bed in exhaustion.

I knew from the start that I was out of place here. Everyone was wearing shredded clothes and chokers and I was just wearing an Arctic Monkey's top and black jeans. They where all probably their because they beat someone up or something. I pushed past people to the notice board and saw my name next to some kid named Colton Ligouri.

Sighing, I headed to the dorms, trying to block out all the noise. I walked and walked along dingy corridors untill I found my room number, 34.

I knocked on the door and someone opened from the other side. The guy who opened up the door looked like a freaking model and when he gave me a crooked smile it looked like he was made for toothpaste commercials as well. He was tanned with blue eyes and chocolate brown hair carefully styled.

Inwardly I sighed, seriously?

"Hey, I'm Zaine." I said to the guy I assumed was Colton.

"Nice to meet you. The name's Colton." He said, gesturing to the spare bed where my suitcase was waiting.

This was going to be a long time in St. Lucian's Academy For Troubled Teens.

Rachana

The Swiss knife was lifted up from the concrete ground with a natural grace as I waited for the students to clear from the board, ambling leisurely across the now empty yard; I trailed the silver tip over the list of neatly printed names.
Finding mine relatively early in the list, I smiled lightly and lifted the knife up, appreciating the small indent it left on the pristine white paper. Swinging it leisurely from my finger, I walked up to the dorms and walked down the passageway bustling with teens, some like me. Dressed in tattered black clothes, spiked hair, body piercing that covered ears and eyes. Others dressed like a normal being. In casual t-shirt and jeans, not that I care, I’m only here because of the hot food and bed.
Keeping close to the walls so that no one noticed me, I soon found dorm 23 on the right side of the hallway. A wood, possibly oak door embedded with gold Victorian like plague with the number twenty-three imprinted on it marked it, my dorm. The metal key cooled my burning fingers as I turned it and stepped inside, revealing my simple backpack against a white wall. Two four-poster beds that lined side by side, a bathroom opposite one of them, staring at this in disbelief I ran to one of the beds and flopped onto it gratefully.

Gods, I had forgotten what an actual bed was like. My back moaned in relief as I rolled around in a ridicule manner, laughing and giggling non-stop as I relied in this new luxury. Just as I was on my, perhaps fifth round of rolling and giggling, the door opened once more and revealed my roommate.
Talk about first impressions.

Zaine Matthews

I followed the winding path of the corridors, sketchbook and iPod in hand. I had checked the schedule and we had the day off, so I decided to explore.

My footsteps thudded on the grass as I made my way across the oval to the park benches, sliding a pencil out of my pocket and flipping open my sketchbook. Before my pencil even touched the paper I heard footsteps behind me.

Colton Ligouri


My new roommate, Zaine, left almost immediately after meeting me, normal. I decided to wonder around and unpack later since we had a free day. I wondered down the hall till I found a girl carrying a pink stuffed bunny and struggling with her suitcase.

"Need help with your bag?" I asked her running over to where she was struggling.

She nodded her blonde pigtails bouncing. I picked up the bag and walked with her to her room.

"I'm Colton," I told her when we were about halfway to her dorm.

"Lola," She replied a giggle rising in her voice.

I smiled at her as she stopped at a room labeled 23. Lola struggled with her key for a bit till she finally got it and swung the door open. On one of the beds laid a black haired girl with wide sapphire eyes. She shot up as soon as she saw Lola and I standing in the doorway.

The girl stood up walking over to us and said, "I'm Xena, now you can put that bag on the other bed."

I shrugged and brought the pink suitcase onto the other bed Lola following behind me skipping like a five year old.

"Lola my room is right down the hall, if you need me just walk over, okay?" I said to her as she sat down on the bed.

Lola nodded and I heard Xena groan. I stood up from my crouching position and smirked at Xena before leaving their dorm room. Now at least one person doesn't hate my guts.

Zain Matthews



I turned around and saw a girl walking over to the archery range, clad in shredded black clothes and tight pants with spiky black hair. I turned around and stared at her, flipping open my sketchbook I decided to draw her. She stopped at the archery range, flicking out a knife she threw it at the targets.

Dead centre.

I got lost in the drawing not controlling my hand any more It was like I was on auto-pilot. It could have been minutes or hours before the girl left and trekked back to the dorms. I stared down at the piece of paper.

She looked beautiful and powerful with a knife in hand and I felt myself blush for some reason.