Back in the real world for this chapter part (as opposed to he memory world, which is at the beginning of each chapter.), after falling asleep from the best day of his life. Enjoy, and please, just drop a comment, even an 'I like it' will suffice (Unless you don, in which case you could say 'I don't like it'). Here are the links for the other chapters:
Prologue
Part one, Chap. 1
Part two, Chap. 1
Part one, Chap. 2
Thanks for reading!
Waking up from a warm, comfortable sleep is rather like a feather slowly drifting down from the top of a very tall building. At first, the sensation of flying is gripping. The wind tosses you about, adventure waits at every turn. Ideas twist around you, distorting reality as much as possible. As you get lower and more protected by the surrounding buildings, the excitement dies down, the wild images flashing before your eyes become more mundane. The world of bizarre and crazy slowly shrinks, until you gently touch down, as light as a feather.
It is on my first day of school - and the second real day of my life - that I wake in such a way. I can’t remember exactly what the dream was about, only that it was nice. As I lie under the soft covers, my mind reaches out for the memories, trying to real them in. It feels like trying to catch bubbles in a fishnet, though, and I soon give up. Instead I try to fall back asleep, in hope of arriving back in the dream land once more. The dream I had would be much nicer than whatever I had to do today.
I shudder at the thought. Yes, I decide. It is so much better having enjoyable dreams than whatever lies in the folder. However hard I try to fall back under that haze, the light is too bright. I can’t close my eyes without seeing red. The red reminds me of something in my dream, but in the dream it was so much more pleasant. I remember the red spurting everywhere, covering everything in its vivid freshness. A smile creeps onto my lips, even though I am trying to fall back asleep.
Suddenly, out of some far away place in my mind, alarm bells start to ring. I should listen to them, but I don’t want to. I want to fall back asleep into my brilliant, red wonderland. However hard I try to shut them off, they continue to warn. Then it finally clicks. I open my eyes in a flash, immediately closing them in reaction to the bright light streaming through my window. The head of the double bed I am sleeping in is directly opposite the back window, which I now see faces right into the morning sun.
Even a feather can be crushed. I have school today.
Bringing a hand up to protect myself from the light, I remember how I rolled myself up in the duvet last night. It is still so warm that it seems like a crime to unroll myself. But I know that I have to, and I eventually start to turn over in the bed. It is such a mission just to sit up on the side, but by the time that I have gained enough courage to stand up, the sleepiness from a good nights sleep has started to wear off.
I need to check the time, so I rummage around the room. The closet is full with what I presume to be brand new clothes, but there are a few signs of wear and tear, to make them look used. A grass-stain on the jeans there, a small hole in a T-shirt here.
As a last resort I check the bedside table, which I realise should have been my first choice. As I pull the draw out I hear the skidding of objects on wood. I smile as I find a brand new cell-phone, an iPod-nano and an expensive looking watch. I look at the watch on my heart shrivels up and dies. Twenty minutes until school starts, and a fifteen minute bus ride there. From memory, the last bus left ten minutes ago. So much for fitting in.
I stumble down the hall in the direction that I remember the bathroom to be in, but it takes a bit of trial and error to get orientated. The peeling yellow wallpaper makes no difference to me now, although I was repulsed at it yesterday. I can’t believe that I have wasted so much time; I can’t be late for school. Whatever my assignment is, finding the gadgets made it clear to me that they want me to fit in. That means acting like a normal teenage boy.
After five or so minutes with my hand running under cold water I realize that I never turned on the hot water. Great; a cold shower or nothing. I end up quickly stripping and lathering myself with soap before ducking under the cold water for what could be, at maximum, a ten second period. Somehow, the towel dries me quick enough to prevent hypothermia, and I get dressed in an ordinary pair of jeans and a casual T-shirt.
My stomach grumbles, and I pull open the bedside draws once again, before rushing into the kitchen. The second draw contains a roll of twenty dollar notes, and a small wallet with forty dollars already tucked inside. I don’t have time to count, but I estimate at least two hundred dollars. I don’t even have time to be surprised.
In the kitchen, with a pocket full of money and gizmos, I pull open the fridge to find it empty. A stale smell starts to waft out, and I close the door immediately. It wasn’t turned on, so no food would have kept, hence they left it empty. The freezer is bare too, and the microwave has to be plugged in. Nothing. Even the fruit on the counter is fake. Without any point to brushing my teeth, I run out the door. There won’t be any point in waiting for a bus, and I doubt that they would arrive during class time. I don’t have any books or stationary, so I decide to run.
About ten minutes in I start to feel a thin layer of sweat building up above my lips and eyebrows. Wellington is a city built on a hill, and my legs get tired after twenty. I keep up my fast pace through, and it takes me a little under half an hour though. I arrive at the school gates just after nine O’clock. School started at eight-forty-five. I am sweating like a pig at the end of it, reed as a fire engine and gasping for breath. I can feel a soggy patch growing on the back of my T-shirt, but it isn’t raining. My stomach grumbles, and I decide that I have no time for food. My left leg is felling limp, but I am used to that after a long run.
I catch a whiff of myself as I follow the arrows to reception. I smell. Bad. It was something between the smell of the fridge back at the house and the meatball surprise that they used to hand out for dinner on Tuesdays. As the scent wafted up my nose, I stopped in my tracks. It wasn’t the smell, but something had reminded me of the house. The stale smell coming from the fridge… the fridge was in the kitchen… on the kitchen counter was…
Oh crap! I forget about the smell of my own sweat completely as I remember something else. Crap oh crap oh crap! How could I forget the single most important thing in the world? I hadn’t even taken a look at the folder. How was I supposed to know where to go, what to do? My schedule was probably in there, photos, maps, instructions; everything! My mind went blank. It was an hour return trip to collect it, ten pages to read… by the end of it I might as well not bother coming back, because it would be almost home time.
I stand there, on the main quad, mouth open, mind going numb. I can’t do anything; I can’t go back and I can’t stay here. I have ruined everything! Anger floods through me and I feel my body temperature skyrocket. I just want to lash out and ruin everything I can. After all, violence is the answer to everything. But no one is around, and I have a weird feeling that this time, when the guards aren’t around, violence may not help.
After ten minutes of even more sweating and thinking over every possible option I decide that there really is only one thing I can do. I have to go to class. No matter what happens, if I end up skipping a whole day of school, I could be in serious trouble. This is not the ideal start to my new life. If I screw up this bad, they might even sent me back for another year of training. They might not even send me back at all… I feel a mist start to slip over my mind, returning it to its numb state, but I quickly shake my head until I feel reason return.
I focus on one step at a time, telling myself that everything will be fine. I won’t go back to training, and I won’t screw this up. For the greater good, I tell myself. The greater good always prevails.
By the time I reach the office I feel as if a heavy weight has been lifted. I walk up to the office lady, tap on the plastic window and wait for her to slide it open.
She doesn’t move. A few times I see her look up, a smile creep onto her face and watch, infuriated as she returns to her work. Whatever progress I had made on the journey here, it was completely erased. I had busted my ass to get here on time, and she is blowing me off for a bunch of envelopes. I slam my fist into the plastic. It rattles, and I slide my fingers across it, opening the window.
“We’re closed.” She states coldly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. It probably was, but I didn’t care.
“Listen, Lady. I’ve just ran seven kilometres because the bus didn’t turn up. I don’t have a timetable and it is my first day of school,” I yell. I want to go on, but that would be a bad idea.
There are a few desks scattered around her room, each buried under a large mess of papers, but no other people in there. I hear a voice from another room, through a door to the left of her. “Barbara? Is everything alright?”
“Yes. It is fine,” she calls back. Then she turns to me again, “we’re closed,” she retains.
I take a moment to calm myself, I know that breaking her office won’t get me a timetable and a map, but I can’t help it. “Okay,” I say gradually, hoping that she will mistake slowness for a sense of calm. “I’m sorry. But I really…” The anger takes over again, and I ball my fist. After I count to ten I try and continue. “I really need to find out where I need to go.”
She laughs. It takes all of my concentration not to jump through the window and strangle her. Can’t she see how desperate I am, how hard I am trying not to blow my top off at her? Can’t she at least show some respect? “What’s your name?” she asks through a stifled laugh.
“Ka—Samuel Matthews.” The office lady starts typing into her computer at a painstakingly sluggish speed. Can they do anything faster than a mile a month?
“Okay, Samuel Matthews,” do I detect a snigger, or a mock tone? She raised an eyebrow. She must hate me already. “I’ll print off a timetable. There are five spells in a day. You have to sign in on that form under your fist. You might as well head off to Form time now, because you were so late.”
I look under my arm and find a clipboard with a pen attached by a string. In the background I can hear the printer coughing to life, but I don’t pay attention.
Name: Samuel Matthews. Form: I paused for a second, and then realize it wants my form class’s code. I’ll have to leave that until I get the timetable. Time: I pull out the watch from my pocket and read the digital display, then attach it to my wrist. 9:41. I can’t believe that it has been just over an hour since I woke up. It seems like days.
Date: “Excuse me, date?” I ask, my anger subsided fro the moment. I can tell that she thinks I am faking it, but I don’t care. She tells me, and I write down 20/10/09. Reason for being late: I had worked this out on the quad; the truth. Missed bus. Signed: I put down a random scribble in the box, hoping that they won’t check it with anything later.
The office lady comes over to the window, after a timely walk to the printer, and then back to her desk. By the time I have filled out the form and watched her move by the inches, it is going on nine-fifty-five. She points out a few rooms on the map, and at the end of it tells me that form time started at nine forty five, and runs until eleven. All spells are an hour, and she points out the times for morning tea and lunch.
I force myself to shout “thanks,” as I run out of reception, and sprint around the school in search of my form room, twenty-seven. I find it just as the bell rings, and a bunch of kids my age start spilling into the hallway. I close my eyes and hold my head as they push past me. I know it’s futile, but I hope that if I can’t see them, then they will take no notice of me.
They are in a hurry to get out of the room, so with my breathing rugged, pink in the face, sweating all over and smelling like dogs breakfast, I enter my form room. The teacher is sitting at her desk, waiting for another class to come in. “Hello?” I ask. “Uh…” I check my forms, holding them upside down, but too embarrassed to flip them up the right way. “Mrs. Cofler?”
“Colfer,” she corrects. She takes one glance at me and laughs. “Had a rough start? Sam?” She could easily guess that I was the new student. Who else would turn up with a timetable in the middle of October?
“No… okay, yes,” I gasp. “Bus…” I start, then realise that I should tell the truth “Slept in, and its Samuel Matthews.” I say.
“Not Sam?” she asks, and then glances back at her laptop. She clicks the mouse pad a few times, and says, half jokingly, “Fine, Samuel Matthews, then. You’d better get off to second spell before they mark you absent for that too.” Great, I thought. I had already explained the lateness to her, but I really didn’t want to have to explain it to my classmates, as red as a rose. I started to blush, and then scolded myself. Guys don’t blush. It probably wasn’t noticeable through the blood that was already flooding my cheeks. I headed for the door, but was called back. “Oh, and you have a detention tomorrow after school,” she said casually.
I turned around in disbelief. “Why? Isn’t it three late’s or something?” She responded with a light laugh, looking at me, as if it would explain. My face was twisted into confusion. I was pushed from behind by a seventh former as he came in for second spell. Mrs. Colfer raised an eyebrow. Another kid rushed past, and sat next to the first. I looked down at my casual clothes, and then back to their blue blazers and gray pants…
Crap!
