Jack

I wake up to a long peal of a bell. Damn annoying thing. Dominic, Robert, and Michael drag themselves out of bed. Poor things, they only just got back from the orgy about two hours ago. I only know this because Robert stubbed his toe as he came in, and he woke me up with his cursing.

We all go down into the mess hall. I get in line, get my tray, get my food. Well, I suppose in another time, another place, it could be considered food. Here and now, it looks like some kind of yellow Styrofoam. I look around for a place to sit. Every place I go to, the people seem to crowd together in any seat that had been open. The only place that’s vacant is in a corner of the cafeteria, an entire empty table. I head for it.

A boy a lot bigger than me bumps me from behind. Hard. My tray slips from my hands, and now there is a lovely splash where there had been floor. There is silence. Then everyone laughs. I close my eyes to block them out, and kneel to pick up the mess.

For reasons yet unknown, the big guy bumps me again while I’m down. Actually, it seems more like a push, harder than before. I fall face first into the “eggs” and milk. Now there is real laughter.

I think about Niko’s threat (offer?) to light me on fire. The more everyone laughs, the better an idea that sounds. I look around for the guy that had pushed me, but he’s vanished into the crowd. So far, boarding school isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

Niko

Touchie-guy just dropped his tray. I hadn’t thought that shade of red was even possible in nature, but he has somehow managed to blush that hard. Kind of unethical, really, how he’ll have to learn about school life the hard way.

Yep. There he is, finding out that they don’t let anyone have seconds, regardless if you’ve even had your first yet. That’s the way we live, eating inedible food that has to be recycled and preserved as long as possible in an environment not even graced with the presence of hygiene.

No. He is not coming this way. He is not. If he does, I’ll have to kick ass or chew gum.

Darn. Out of gum.

Jack

The only place open is Niko’s corner. I don’t know when she got there; the table had been empty when I’d dropped my tray. I have to sit there, no other place to go. They’ve locked the door leading back to the dorm. She sees me coming, and I stop walking. How can I not? The glare she’s giving me could stop a train. But it’s either sit there or hang around like a dope while I wait for the bell to ring.

I don’t sit directly next to her, but across from her, just out of easy reach.

Does she ever stop writing in that notebook? She must have a callous on her finger the size of Wyoming. She doesn’t look at me, just writes with one hand and reaches into her bag with the other.

As I thought, she brings out the little purple lighter from yesterday and places it right next to her breakfast tray. It’s a pretty obvious warning, but I can’t help but notice that she’s hardly touched her food.

“Are you gonna eat that?” I ask her. She pauses in her writing, checks her watch, and says, “I have ten minutes before I take my vow of silence, so you have ten minutes to make me care verbally about anything. Five, if you go right to class when the bell rings.” That’s nice, but she has neatly sidestepped my question.

“So you’re not gonna eat that?” I know it’s useless to talk to her, but what’s a hungry guy to do? She closes her eyes, clenches her fist, shoves her tray at me.

“Now go away.” My spider-sense tells me that this person has issues.

“Thanks. You’ve been nicer than anyone.” Her head snaps up, a look of rage and disgust on her face. Then the look turns to one of surprise, and she says, “Wait a second.” She reaches back into her bag, and pulls out a large camera. She flashes a picture of me. The machine spits out a little Polaroid, and she waves it around for a minute.

“Write your name on it.” She hands me a black ballpoint pen. What’s going on here? I sign the photo, and head off down the table, away from her.

Niko

At the price of my food, I got a picture of prettyboy. And a handwriting sample. As a cynic, I feel above the most common human emotions, but prettyboy is testing that. How does he do this? By making himself an easy target for the troglodytes and spaniels. They’re giving him a much harder time than usual. Me not being a spaniel, I didn’t laugh when he dropped his tray. Actually, I kind of pity him. Poor little queer, I doubt they’ll ever leave him alone now.

Back in class. Mr. Zarté is still drinking heavily. Someone should tell him that whisky is not, in fact, a good cure for a headache, especially one brought on by tequila. Oh yes, we’ve all had sips from his “secret” stash of liquor. To an English teacher, Shakespeare has other uses: if you hollow out the middle of a Macbeth book, you can insert the lesser-known character, Jack Daniels. Too bad he picked that play, though. I’ve always liked Macbeth, particularly the parts starring my idol, Lady Macbeth and her ever-bloodied hands.

Oh, Mr. Zarté’s bottle isn’t full enough to make him pass out right away. The question is, will he try to teach us, or will he tell us all his woes?

“Yer all gonna die shoon,” he starts. “Yer all gonna die, an’ I’m gonna shleep now.” Then he bursts into tears and falls asleep on the desk. Lovely, really. An excellent example of the human race’s finest.

The evil teacher’s assistant who must die comes in. “Sorry I’m late.” He walks over to Mr. Zarté and carefully turns his head so that he won’t swallow his tongue again. Then he struts up to the podium and barks out, “Right, break’s over! Get your books out! Today, we begin with page 296. Miss Kikyami, please stop writing love letters and join us, if you are at all able.” Love letters indeed. I will never put away my notes, never, not even if they kill me. They’d have to pry them out of my cold, dead hands. Even then, I’d haunt that person forever.

The jackass looks like he’s getting mad. He’s standing behind me even as I write this, with his pratty, evil eyes boring into the back of my neck and

Jack

I’m running through the halls, desperately trying to find my fist class. I’m nearly a half-hour late. After four wrong rooms, I burst into the right one, just as someone (the teacher? He looks too young for it) snatches a red notebook off of someone’s desk. The owner leaps to her feet, trying to snatch it back.

Of course, it’s Niko. I get the idea she would be shrieking her head off if it weren’t for her “vow of silence.” The teacher-guy is momentarily distracted by my banging the door open, and lets the notebook go. Niko clutches it to her chest, and backs down the aisle, a wild look in her eyes. Teacher-guy is caught between his current situation and my lateness. He hesitates just long enough for Niko to grab her bag from under her desk and sprint from the room. The class is silent for about thirty seconds. We can her Niko’s footsteps going down the hall, then stopping, coming back.

She marches into the class, looking like the first person to move will be killed swiftly and silently. She goes right up to the blackboard, and begins to write. Her handwriting is graceful printing, almost like runes rather than letters.

YOU WILL PAY FOR THAT, PISHETT!

Then she crumbles the chalk to powder in her hand, and stomps out again.

Wow.

Niko

How dare he? HOW DARE HE?? NOBODY touches my notes! Not one single living thing must know what goes on in my mind! Pishett must die, and quickly. He knows too much.

He doesn’t seem to have followed me. I go to the dean’s office and check the posted sheets listing the teacher jobs. What luck! Pishett is the guard in the boy’s dormitory tonight!

Ah, the old “Shining” ploy. Nice and easy, but I’ll have to brush up on my ninja skills. Oh yes, can’t be seen in boy’s dorm. Can’t get caught. Can’t let the spaniels spread even more rumors about me. So it’s off to the old willow tree for practice in balance, scaling, and Kung Fu. I’ll write later if I don’t fall asleep.

I hate that bell. Damn annoying thing woke me up. I’m still all sweaty from all that hopping about in the branches, and from really kicking the hell out of it. Sore, too. I’d had no idea that I was that rusty from my days as the Big Adventurer.

But still, the bell woke me up just in time for lunch. Good. I’m hungry, and anyway I’ll need some extra ketchup for tonight’s escapade.

Jack

Note to self: never touch Niko’s book. Pishett (the assistant teacher—it turns out that Mr. Zarté is currently drunk.) sent me to the dean’s office for being late. Now I’m trying to figure out exactly where the hell that would be.

Wait. These can’t be classrooms—they’re way too quiet. The other classes were really noisy, almost like there was total anarchy in this school. I open one of the doors. A wave of scent like strawberries nearly knocks me over. I look around. It’s a bedroom, with a bed in one corner and a wardrobe in the other. Girly posters and pictures of movie stars hang from the walls. The perfume becomes too mush for me, and I close the door, gagging.

So this is the girls dorm. How did I get here of all places? I’m about to try and retrace my steps, when a door at the end of the hall catches my eye. It’s the only one with a sign on it: a sign with a familiar fine printing handwriting.

ABANDON HOPE, ALL YE WHO ENTER HERE.

(Dante, The Inferno)

Golly gosh, I can’t think of one single person bizarre enough to have this on her door.

Curiosity about Niko overwhelms me more than the strawberry fragrance had. I reach out, and turn the knob.