Young Writers Society

“Wyatt. Wyatt?” I felt someone shaking me awake. Maybe it was Mom? Maybe this was all a bad dream and I would wake up and see Momma and Daddy. Yes, surely it was. I popped my eyes open with a smile on my face.

But it was only Cora.

“Wyatt. You need to get up and get ready for classes. They start in an hour.” My face fell and Cora’s did too while I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and tried to itch off the dried tears. I looked at the clock, it was 6 am and Cora was right. I did have about an hour.

“Oh, you might want to stop by the mess hall on the way to class. It’s going to be a while until lunch. Don’t worry though, the teachers are totally cool if you eat in class. Just don’t lob it at the back of someone else’s head. We wear uniforms every day except Fridays. So…” She gestured to the closet and I nodded my gratitude. Cora was wearing cute black pajama bottoms with smiley white skulls on them. Her black pj tank top was fitted closely and I envied her figure. She was slim and petite, with a delicate frame. I always felt so awkward with my curves and my height.

The wood floors squeaked beneath my feet while I walked to the closet adjacent from the desk. It wasn’t very big, but big enough. I saw a neon piece of tape stuck between two hangers and assumed that was the dividing line. There were five uniforms hung on each side. I picked a random one from what was presumably my area of the closet.

I looked at Cora. Why was it that when I looked at her she always knew what was on my mind?

“If you want to shower, go left down the hallway and it’s the last room on the left and the right. The right side is always a bit cleaner but the stalls are smaller. Bathrooms are there too. They have towels on racks if you didn’t bring your own.” Again, I nodded but this time I threw in a slight smile to show her I appreciated the help. So I grabbed my shower bag, my uniform. my robe and a towel and headed off to the shower.

I took Cora’s advice and went into the right communal bathroom and as far as I could tell, she was right. The shower stalls were fairly small but were definitely clean and absolutely not as busy as the bathroom on the left. So I took my first shower on my first morning at a Emily Jenkins Preparatory Academy without a single friend, besides maybe Cora, or a hope in the world with my parents gone. But the great thing about showers is if you emerge with drops of water on your face, nobody really notices.

While I walked down the hall I could smell muffins and croissants. Girls brought food back, apparently, to have breakfast in their rooms. I was headed back into my dorm room when I ran into a tall, thin, blonde.

“Watch it!” She said. Of course. Typical mean girl. There was one at every school. Thankfully, I was right outside our dorm room and Cora had seen the whole thing.

“Don’t let Olivia be mean to you. She’s just full of herself because she got into this prestigious math camp at Harvard over the summer. And since she’s blonde, apparently being a mathlete is cool. It works for her at least.” I didn’t bother nodding or smiling this time, just raising my eyebrows a little.

“Mrs. Windslow brought this for you. It’s your schedule and the books and supplies you need. She knew you probably didn’t have notebooks and stuff and she mentioned she got some stuff for you while she was in town. I’m not sure what that’s about.” Cora handed me the paper and gestured to the stack of books, binders, notebooks and computer that were on my bed. The laptop had the school crest on it, so I assumed it was school issued. There was also a purple book bag next to the pile of stuff. Seriously, how did everyone know I was in to purple?

I checked the schedule.

1st: Biology Honors- Windslow

2nd: Art Honors- Malady

3rd: Precalc- Marsden

Lunch

4th:English Honors- Brown

5th: French- Helms

6th: Self Defense- Agnetti

Biology, math and english were probably required as well as French and Self Defense. It looked like art was my elective and this was the first thing to make me happy in weeks. Painting and drawing was something I loved doing with my Mom, it made me feel close to her. It made me more confident in who I was as a person and even with that one class in my schedule, I walked to the rec building with a light bounce in my step and Cora at my side.

______________________________________________________________________________

Biology was not my forte. I wasn’t sure why I’d been stuck in the honors class, anyway. Probably just so I’d have Ms. Windslow.

I was the last one to class and got stuck seated in the back next to some guy who smiled and waved at me way too enthusiastically. He had light, straw colored hair and blue eyes that made the sea envious. While his bright smile was giving me a migraine, I couldn’t help but think that he was cute and he was being nice to me. I guessed nobody knew about my parents at this school.

“I’m Timothy,” he said, looking at me expectantly. Just then Ms. Windslow conveniently called my name on the attendance sheet.

“Wyatt Martin?” she asked. After raising my hand, informing her of my presence, I turned to Timothy.

“Wyatt. That’s an interesting name. Reminds me of old western movies I used to watch with my Grandpa.” Timothy said this, as he said everything with enthusiasm.

I glared. But not even this deterred him.

“So do you like it here, at Jenkins? I really like it here. I mean the people are so nice and we get so many opportunities but I do admit I miss my family. What about you?” I shake my head. I don’t like it here and I miss my family. But a chunk of my family is missing and the other chunk is across the country, in New York.

“Do you ever speak?” He asked.

“Yes. I speak! But my parents died a month ago and my Aunt Rose sent me here where I know nobody. Now I have a roommate who I’m not quite sure how to be around, a school I don’t know and an annoying voice chattering in my ear when I’m trying to listen so I have the slightest idea of what to do for the next six months of my life. So shut it, okay?” The words just came flying out of my mouth. I didn’t mean to say them but as soon as I did, Timothy’s face fell lower than the grand canyon and his once bright eyes extinguished like a candle being blown out.

The guilt immediately pervaded my stomach and settled itself there for the entire class period. He was legitimately trying to be nice and I just shot him down. I tried not to make a habit of saying mean things to people. After all, that’s not how I would want to be treated, right? But I had said something mean. I’d called Timothy annoying. And even after that, I still couldn’t concentrate when Ms. Windslow went over school rules and protocol as well as the syllabus. The guilt was weighing too heavily on my mind.

But I made it through. At least in art class, nobody bugged me. I sat next to a quiet girl named Ingrid and sketched a few still lifes. Ingrid envied mine and told me how good I was which made me smile.

I eyed her sketches. She had a tendency to be heavy on the pencil, but it worked for her. Her pencil strokes were generally dark and messy but I could distinctly tell what her forms were and everything was proportional. Unlike the other kids I saw who (no offense to them) had drawings that made them look as if they’d never held a pencil in their lives. I knew that everyone could draw, however, if they really applied themselves. So I simply looked forward to seeing how everybody improved.

“Yours is so good,” she said, gazing at my second sketch.

“Yours is too. I like that you’re heavy on the pencil.” I said this with my lips turning up ever so slightly at the edges, my voice raw and scratchy from underuse. This was the first time I’d spoken to anybody at Jenkins prep and it felt pretty good. At least I knew I had a friend in Ingrid and I had solace in my art class. I wanted the day to be over and the next school day to begin, just so I could go to art class. But sadly, this was not the case. I had math to deal with.

Then lunch came. Timothy ran up to me as I strolled towards the girls dorm.

“Hey Wyatt!” I turned around.

“Can I grab lunch with you?” His blue eyes sparkled, like the horrible things I said earlier had been completely disregarded.

“Sure.” We walked in silence for a bit and the hot blazer I wore over my polo got hot, so I took it off.

“Timothy, I’m really sorry about what I said earlier. I’ve kinda gone through a lot in the past month and haven’t had any time to process. You understand, right?” I was finally talking but I was opening up to this stranger. At least I knew Cora a little better than Timothy. Well, not really, but I’d known her longer.

“I get it. I figured that was the case, you looked like you felt really bad about that, anyway. No harm done. If there’s anything you ever want to talk about I’m always here. I know you don’t know me well yet but…” he trailed off and I tried to find the words he was looking for.

“...you hope that changes?” I prompted. His face lit up.

“See? You’re already finishing my sentences! Anyway, the mess hall choices are actually pretty good. If I were you I’d go with either the macaroni or the salad. The mac n’ cheese is super great, the burgers are okay but the buns tend to be a bit soggy.” I smiled at him and took his advice, grabbing a plate of mac n’ cheese and taking a side salad from the salad bar. He had the same and we found a table to sit at.

“So what’s the deal with boy’s and girl’s dorms? Who's allowed where at what time?” Timothy smiled, chuckling a bit.

“See, guys are allowed in girl’s dorms and vice versa for moving days, the beginning and end of the year. They’re also allowed in Fridays after school until 7, but doors have to stay open. The dorm advisor has an office with cameras watching the stairwells so if they see anybody of the opposite sex going in or out… they sound the alarm.” I nodded, understanding. This boarding school seemed pretty relaxed. The rules for the most part were endurable, not difficult to follow.

“Thanks for the info. So what do you usually do in your free time?” Timothy laughed as he asked this.

“It’s kinda funny. I do a mixture of reading, writing and running. During summers and things I like to run marathons and stuff. It’s pretty cool.” It was then that I examined Timothy’s build. He was pretty fit and as I noticed earlier, more than a little attractive.

“I like to read as well. But I don’t run all that much except to stay in shape. I’m more of an art nerd, you know?” I felt a little sheepish admitting this for whatever reason. Maybe it was because he was cute? Who knows?

“That’s pretty cool. I think I’ll just stick with my stick figures. I do some pretty epic ones, actually. I even add in hair and sometimes clothes. The triangle is really in style right now.” This made me giggle, especially when he started to chuckle at his own joke.

Talking to Timothy was incredibly easy. It was like no matter what happened, he wouldn’t judge me. He definitely wasn’t easily angered and he seemed easy to get along with.

Cora; however, was a different story. I knew from her glare at me that hell hath no fury like a roommate seemingly scorned by the silent treatment. I knew what it must look like to her. After all, I hadn’t said a word to her yet here I was talking and laughing with a cute guy. I must have looked like such a snotty little miss priss to her, like I was stuck up.

I just hoped I could convince her otherwise.