Young Writers Society

>I hope you don't mind, tam. I'm claiming your character as my room mate! Now there is no escape for you!<

Jayce:

I hammered my hands against my pants and whistled. Nervous? Yea! I could feel butterflies hitting against the walls of my stomach. There wasn't a lot of students as the brouche had said, in fact it didn't look bigger then my last school before I had been expelled from it. Stupid dead beat teachers! I had promised my Uncle I wouldn't do anything to get myself expelled and so far; I was doing pretty good.

Daniel, my room mate, leaned against the wall watching as students were ushered in. I could hear someone touching the microphone and saying "Testing, testing, one two three." I rolled my eyes and turned in my position. A girl with white blonde hair stared at me from the corner of her blue eyes. How come I hadn't seen her before? My hand instinctvly went up to the cat around my neck; she looked slightly like Amra.

"C'mon, we might as well go inside." Daniel muttered, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"Hey, what brings you to a place like this?" I asked the pretty blonde girl, ignoring Daniel's look.

"To learn, what else?" The girl said evenly and pushed herself into the river of students entering the assembly.

"Smooth move," Daniel whistled before bursting out laughing. I felt my cheeks glowing red with stupidity, what else would she be here for; to smell the dying roses outside?!

"Shut it!" grabbing onto his elbow I steered him into the assembly, gripping his arm as hard as I could.

Greg:

Greg watched all the other students arriving. He was not sure if he was really going to like this school. He saw some other guys cower in fear and he smirked. He knew that these preppy little brats wouldn't stand a chance against him.

Greg was being "escorted" into the school by the police. He knew this looked bad. So he had a criminal record. So what? At least he was going to go to a school...right? He shrugged as the Principle glared at him. He smile back, then walked out towards his room where there were two other guys.

"Hello boys. Don't look so scared." He teased, enjoying himself.

Trouble, obviously. Thought George Wright; eyeing the youth entering the high-standard boarding school. "Cause any trouble lad, and you've got me to explain to." He said sharply, intimidating the young boy that was trying to do the same to other pupils.

Rolling his eyes at the fact another troublesome student had joined such a classy place, this thought escaped his mind within minutes as he was handed some coffee. It didn't look very appetizing, and since George had came down with what he thought was the flu, nothing seemed to look or taste good.

Plodding into his office like a weary old man and seating himself on a chair, George began to stare at the old photo years back when the old staff were about, even the caretaker. George was interviewing people for a new job opening in the school, and it was proving to be tiring, he seriously needed the previous break.

George turned to have view of himself in a mirror. He began to pull at his grey face and cheeks that indicated he was of poor health.

What was wrong with him? ...He literally looked... Grey.

Every so often, a sharp, shooting pain churned within his chest, causing him to wince and cringe on his desk. After this torture had ceased, George would just have to continue as if nothing was happening to him. He was the head of one of the most popular and successful boarding schools in the nation, hence, he certainly couldn't be ill!

He grumbed something into a speaker; of which was not a public announcement, but was just a private message to his secretary. "Send in the next one... And by the way, how many more are there?" Recently, the school caretaker had lost the plot in his opinion. Scaring half of the children to death by saying their demise is nearing. And even though it went without saying, he was fired. They were now looking for a suitable replacement - one that wouldn't go A-wall.

"This is the last." Replied a croaky woman on the other end of the mic.

A hefty, young male thriving with colour and life entered the room. "I'd like to apply for the job, Sir." He smiled, features beaming with glee.

"Obviously..." Muttered George. Lately, it was evident George had been sick, but his temper had been shortening and he was becoming more and more aggressive without knowing it. "Qualifications?" He proceeded.

As the young boy listed them, George completely tuned out off of his own will. His eyelids and eyebrows began to raise and he began to splutter. Placing a hand infront of the boy's face and indicating he should stop talking, he then reached into his pocket for a hanky. Coughing into it, he pulled it away to examine what he had coughed up. A nebulous crimson shimmered infront of him. Clutching the hanky tighter with shock from this discovery, he immeidately took no time in then throwing it away. "Carry on..." Wheezed Mr. Wright.

"Sir... Are you okay? You've just gone all... blotchy?"

"I'm fine. I'm fine! Now, if you don't want to God damn job then get out!" George at first was talking in a civil tone, but towards the end of his sentence, he was hollering at the top of his voice. With panick, the boy applying for the job fled the room. Mr. Wright grated his teeth against one another with fury, causing some of his pallid enamels to flake off as a sign of his rage. Pushing his table over and nipping at his scalp afterwards, he slumped down in his chair; chest decreasing excessively as he exhaled.

What was happening to him?

Was he going insane? ...Or was there more to it?

I sat down in the hall on the second row back, shooting a nervous small at the girl sitting next to me. I couldn't help but run the exchange I'd had a few seconds before through my mind. My first converstation with another student... Well, it could have been worse. And, to be fair - 'what brings you to this place'? What was he expecting, that I would open up my heart and come up with some tragic life story about how I was finally hoping to better myself through education? At least I'd managed to avoid blurting out the truth, that I already hated the school and had woken up feeling bitterly homesick this morning.

Stop that, Clarrie, I told myself. He was just trying to make conversation and be friendly, and anyway, why was I so bothered anyway? It was probably just the shock of speaking to a boy - a real boy! - who was willing to consider me as an equal and a possible friend, instead of just seeing me as the stuck up rich girl who all the servants despised. Nothing more than that. Definitely.

A tired, middle aged man stepped up onto the stage, interrupting my thoughts about the tall boy with ruffled brown hair and a scatter of freckles. He tapped the microphone and feedback whined through the hall. I grimaced. This was the famed headmaster of Delightful Boarding School? He looked like he belonged in a hospital, not a school! His face was pale and grey and he had puffy purple bags under his eyes. The headmaster sneezed wetly into a hankerchief, stuffed it in his pocket and leaned in closer to the microphone.

"Go-good morning, students, and a special welcome to our new students! I am Mr. Wright, the headmaster. I hope everyone will do their best to help all members of the student body feel welcomed and included. Lessons begin tomorrow at eight o' clock sharp; don't be late!" Mr. Wright's voice was hoarse and husky, but grew a little clearer as he began speaking.

"Now, some of you may have heard our resident groundskeeper saying some strange things lately. Demons, mortal danger, all sort of nonsense like that. As rational young people I'm sure you're all aware that this is nonsense, but I'd like to make it clear once more: pay no attention to these silly rumours. The caretaker recently chose to search for work elsewhere and as soon as we hire someone new, the grounds will be pristine and new once more! Now, off you go to your morning break and I don't forget to avoid the fourth floor toilets which are under maintenance!" He smiled, nodded briskly and hurried off the stage, pulling out his hankie again. Assembly was over already? Probably because the headmaster needed a day in bed, I supposed.

There was a scraping of chairs as everyone stood up and crowded towards the hall exit. A low murmer ran through the room, lower and more urgent than the cheerful chatter of earlier. Rumours of demons... Headmasters that clearly needed to take a sick day, or several... So far, this boarding school was turning out even stranger than I had expected.