Young Writers Society

Author's Note: Here's the very first chapter of my very first mini-novel! :D I'm planning on this spanning 5 chapters or so. I'll just see where it takes me. I hope you all will enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! ;)

Chapter 1: Names.

"Hurry up, man! We're gonna be late if you keep staring at the mirror like that." Chris's voice was riddled with that familiar air of sarcastic concern to which I had become so accustomed over the years. Once again, it was Friday and, once again, we were rushing to get to class before 7:30. Or, rather, Chris was rushing me to get to class before 7:30. I fiddled with my hair a bit more and gently brushed my coat off before turning to look at my twin brother. I could see that he wasn't messing around this time and I gave an awkward smile in an attempt to contain a boisterous fit of laughter.

"Listen here, K.C," he began, frantically wagging his finger to and fro in front of me "You can't keep on making us late. Mrs. Leland is already hot on our case about this. Two more tardies and it'll be back to Rhode Island for the two of us. Now I know you and I both don't want that." He's a strange one, this brother of mine; always trying to do the right thing; always trying to stand out; always trying to prove something. I really thought that attending this boarding school with him would be worth the extra work, our parents being some 3000 miles away and all. Not to mention all of the super-fly schoolgirls in their stockings and uniform skirts. Sometimes it actually feels like it's his God-given mission to turn our first year of high school into the damn Magna Carta of academic conduct or something. It's really quite amusing to me how you can look so much like someone and yet be so entirely different from them.

"Well?" he chided "Don't just stand there. Wipe that dumb grin off of your face and go get your shoes on!" Chris really was our mother's child. I squeezed past my brother and leaped onto the bottom bunk of our bed. This was where I slept, because being the oldest apparently doesn't entitle you to the top bunk in my family. As I dug restlessly through the space between my bed and the wall, I could hear the uneasy tapping of Chris's foot against the hardwood floor. I was pleasantly surprised to find the bag of spicy Funyuns I had purchased from the cafeteria last Tuesday. It wasn't too long before I felt two rather large and rubbery objects hit me on the back of the head.

"Hey, numb-nuts," I shouted "What the hell was that for? I just brushed my hair a minute ago." Chris's expression of mild frustration had given way to a stoic frown.

"Yeah. I know. I mean, how couldn't I know? You practically brush your hair for thirty-five minutes and gel it for forty every morning. Now put your shoes on so we can go. We won't have time to go buy our breakfast today."

"You little-"

"Cut the crap, K.C. Let's just go. Besides, you already have your deep-fried, sodium-loaded breakfast right there." Chris picked his backpack and notebook up from the floor and took the room key off of the desk. I took a deep breath before slipping my shoes on and grabbing my bag off of the bed. We we're finally off to homeroom...at 7:33.

As we made our way down the spiraling mahogany stairwell, I could feel myself falling deeper and deeper into a light slumber. The only thing I could think about was going back up to room 237 without Chris. After all, this fool did wake me up at 6:00 in the morning just to get ready for school or whatever. Just as we stepped off of the final stair, my brother spoke for the first time since we had left our suite. Every fiber of my being wished that the Silent Treatment hadn't ended so soon.

"K.C, you need to start getting serious here. It's already the second semester and you're still making us late to homeroom. And what's more? You're nodding off on the way there, too! Seriously, man I'm starting to get a little bit fed up with this. Your shoes are untied, your coat's unbuttoned, and you decided to wear jeans of all things...Jeans! Your hair is just about the only thing that isn't out of order." I'm sure he had rattled off a few more of my crimes against humanity then, but listening to him speak was never really my forte. I gave Chris a gentle pat on the back and cleared my throat before responding.

"Listen, young Christopher. Nothing in this world is more important to me than my space. You know this better than anyone else. I am a tiger in the woods...I am Tiger Woods. Or, well, not exactly. But you get my point. When you see a tiger playing in the woods, you don't try to run after him, lecturing him about how his coat isn't buttoned now do you?"

"Seriously, K.C I don't see ho-"

"Do you?"

"Well, I suppose not."

"Then that's that."

As soon as I had thought that I had won our little confrontation, Chris struck back with a question that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. "If you're such a tiger in the woods, then why haven't you made a move on any of those girls you're always raving about?" I stopped walking and pulled Chris by the arm, forcing him to stop walking too. "What's the big idea, K.C?" he grumbled as he jerked his arm free of my grasp "You do like to talk a lot of crap." This was the first time in a while when I actually felt like punching my brother in the nose.

"Don't give me that," I snarled "You don't know what it's like for me."

"Oh. You mean what it's like to be afraid of the opposite sex?"

"I'm not afraid! I just haven't really approached anyone yet."

"Well maybe if you stopped wearing that stupid clip-on bow tie and wore a regular one like everyone else you wouldn't have to think twice about approaching anybody!"

Before I could deliver an adequate response, our dispute was so rudely interrupted by Mrs. Spears, our homeroom teacher, who had apparently been listening to our entire conversation from inside of room 4-B. She was a short and stout young lady of about thirty with large, dark eyes that made it feel like she was sucking your soul right out of you every time you looked at her. "Tisk, tisk, boys." she teased us, slowly shaking her head from side to side "It's already 7:45. The bell should be ringing any minute now. You really should try to be on time. One more tardy and Mrs. Leland will have to-"

"Yes, yes." stammered Chris "We know. We just got tied up with some cleaning around the suite. That's all." I really hated the way Chris would sweet-talk teachers and B.S his way out of any situation, but at the moment, I wasn't complaining.

"Well okay, Christopher. You all best be getting to your first class. I'll mark you guys on time today but take this as a warning. Just try to...you know...help your brother along."

"Don't worry, Mrs. Spears!" beamed Chris, "I've got this under control."

As soon as the bell rang and Mrs. Spears went back into the classroom, I grabbed Chris by the arm again. "Listen, buddy," I spat, "Don't go telling everyone I made us late again you hear?" Chris rolled his eyes and let out a light chuckle before responding.

"Sure, K.C. But really, you might want to consider losing the bow tie. It makes you look like a ginormous tool."

---

Fourth period Shakespearean Literature. What a blast. Mr. Thompson's voice continued to drone on as I sat doodling in the back of the classroom. It was always like this: Mr. Thompson would say something and I'd draw a kangaroo. Then he would say something else and I'd draw another kangaroo. Sooner or later, he'd call on someone in the front two rows and they would say something, so I'd draw a third kangaroo, but with shades on. Today was no different. That was, until it happened.

"Mr. Crowley, pick a number between one and ten." I looked up from my notebook and scanned the room frantically to find that none of the other students had raised their hand to answer Mr. Thompson. It was only after a quizzical glance from the old man that I realized that this request had been intended for me. I cleared my throat as I prepared to do the unthinkable; to speak in class.

"Well, Mr. Thompson, I'm gonna go with...two! Wait no! Three! Uh, four?" A series of low chuckles had risen from the rest of the class.

"You know, Mr. Crowley," laughed the old man "This isn't an Algebra course. Any number between one and ten works." My classmates soon joined in and their low chuckles gave way to boisterous laughter. My palms began to sweat and my heart began to pound. I almost felt as if I was bolted to my chair. "Lighten up, kid." chuckled the teacher "I didn't even ask you a real question. Now pick a number so we can get this show on the road." I looked around the classroom to find that the other students had stopped laughing and were each eagerly awaiting my reply. I licked my lips and sat up straight before speaking.

"Four. I choose four."

"Is that your final answer?"

"Does an airplane fly?"

"...Okay then, Mr. Crowley," said Mr. Thompson with a mischievous grin "Then you get to begin the groupings. Which of these lovely folks will have the privilege of being your partner for the upcoming theatrics project?"

As I scanned the room once again, I realized that most of my classmates were complete strangers to me. Some of them I had never even seen around campus. Of course there was that one kid, but I only knew about him because of his size. I mean, if you go to school here at Brimmley, you can't really miss him. He takes up half of the damn hallway. And then there's the girl who never stops smiling. I don't mean that she has a jolly disposition or whatever that's called, I mean that she actually never stops smiling. I hear her dad's a dentist and she had some kind of accident with the laughing gas when she was little, but you can't really go off of what people say all the time anyway. Just as I was ready to tell Mr. Thompson that he could choose my partner for me, a freckled, red-haired girl seated in the middle of the front row stood up from her desk and turned to face the window, pointing defiantly into the distance like some sort of old-school prophet. "I'll be your partner, K.C!" she ejected "We're gonna make the best skit this school has ever seen!"

"Well first you gotta find him, Abby!", laughed Mr. Thompson. The girl removed her circle-rim glasses and wiped them off on her coat before putting them back on and realizing that I wasn't seated in that direction. Upon turning to face me, she was greeted with roaring laughter from Mr. Thompson and the other students. Her face turned as red as a tomato and her knees began to wobble. The girl quickly sat down and buried her face in her notebook in an attempt to hide her embarrassment. In all honesty, the situation was comedy gold, but I couldn't bring myself to laugh at her along with everyone else. As the thundering laughter died down and the other students each began to choose their partners for the project, I couldn't help but wonder why on God's Earth this girl had volunteered to be mine. It certainly couldn't have been the excellence of my academic track record. No matter what her reason, she had made me feel like I had never felt before at this cursed school; she had made me feel like I belonged.

---

My confrontation with Chris and the events of Mr. Thompson's class were still fresh in my mind as I sat my bag down and took a seat on the green leather sofa in the library's main corridor. It was usually where I came to wait for my brother to finish all of his after school extracurriculars and today was no different in that regard. This library also happened to be the school's crowned jewel, and neither the library staff nor my brother for that matter ever let me forget that. I can almost hear their whining now: "The G.W. Brimmley Library is home to over one thousand volumes of historical anecdotes from the Victorian and Elizabethan Eras and also houses thirty-two of Shakespeare's unfinished scripts and sonnets." I'm not even sure if Shakespeare had thirty-two unfinished scripts and what on Earth is a sonnet? Either way, I was sure that the G.W. Brimmley Library was also home to one of the most comfortable sofas known to mankind, so I guess it was alright. During my half of a year at Brimmley, this sofa had become my closest friend. It never once harangued me about my coat being unbuttoned and it never gave me crap about the bow tie either. I guess you could say we were pretty close. I closed my eyes and began to fall into a deep and peaceful slumber. Before I could fall asleep, however, the unthinkable happened once again; someone had taken a seat next to me.

"Uh, do you mind?" I inquired "I'm sorta trying to sleep here. Come back later." Upon opening my eyes I was shocked to find that the mysterious intruder hadn't moved a muscle. I gently rubbed my eyes before turning to look at the unwelcome visitor once again. My jaw must've dropped in surprise upon seeing that it was the red-haired girl from my English class. Even more surprising was that she had the audacity to reach out for a handshake.

"Um...Hi," she began in a nervous half-whisper "I'm Abigail Christine Beatrice Gabardine, but you can just call me Abby if you like. I mean, most people here just call me Abby...or Scarecrow...or Spotty...or Ginger...You get the picture." I wasn't sure exactly what it was about this girl's voice but I didn't feel like sleeping anymore. Each word seemed to dance off of her tongue and into that enigmatically empty space deep within the walls of my beating heart. Her piercing green irises bounced expeditiously amongst our surroundings before coming to an impetuous stop behind the shimmering glass windows of their golden frame prisons. As I looked back into those deep pools of verdant luminescence, I could feel every last strain of my anger melt away. Every single inkling of the unrelenting worry and dismal self-doubt that had become so familiar to me since my enrollment at this ill-fated academy was replaced by an incorruptible warmth. Once again, Abby had made me feel something that I had never felt since that fateful first day of school. She had made me feel hope...without even trying. I cleared my throat and composed myself by fiddling with my bow tie before extending my hand and returning her introduction.

"Uh. Hi, Abby." I smiled nervously "I'm K.C. I don't really have any other names." Her entire being began to glow with an illuminated curiosity that I had never known could exist within anyone trapped in this intellectual black hole.

"Well, K.C," she began softly "What's that stand for? I won't tell anybody." Once again, my palms began to sweat and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I had never expected that someone's introduction to me would have this profound an effect, let alone force me to confront and then to disclose my most precious secret. At that moment, a very large part of me wanted to end this emotional vivication by getting up and leaving Abby all alone in the library corridor, but there was something deep inside of me which hadn't been there before that made me want to tell her everything in the world.

"Well, you see," I began restlessly "It's a family name. All of the first-born sons in my family for the last eight generations have been named K.C. It stands for...it's for..."

"What's it for? I promise I won't laugh...not even if it's some kind of horrible sexual innuendo." Abby gently placed her hand on my shoulder and gave me a reassuring smile. I swallowed a huge lump in my throat before continuing.

"It stands for Kermit-Collinsworth!" Before I could grab my backpack and make a full sprint out of the library, she grabbed me by the hand and pulled me back down onto the sofa. I could tell that she was struggling to hold back her laughter. As I settled back in next to her, every living part of me wanted to disappear.

"That's not so bad." she chuckled "There are worse names out there."

"Like what?" I snapped.

"I don't know, but I'm sure there are...I like your bow tie!" By now, I had no idea what to make of this quirky new acquaintance of mine. Who the hell could be insensitive enough to force someone to unload their most carefully kept secret and then compliment them on their neck wear decisions the moment after? Rather, dear reader, I should've been asking who the hell would be special enough to make me want to share it. I had not the slightest clue why I was feeling this way about Abby, but I did know that this was something that I wanted to feel every moment of every day and wished I always had. It was something that made me want to explore her wildest dreams and her greatest desires, and to turn them into reality. I, Kermit-Collinsworth Crowley, the wild tiger in the woods, was deeply and hopelessly in love. Just as I opened my mouth to thank her for her sacrificial act of kindness in our English class, I felt my phone vibrate within the confines of my left pocket. The text message read as follows:

"It's time to go, Gatsby-Wax. Meet me at the front gate in 10 mins.

We're takin' a walk in the park today. :P

-Chris"

TO BE CONTINUED.