FicWad

“Mikey it is time to get up!” there is a hesitant shy knock at my closed bedroom door which suddenly opens, startling my still half asleep brain, revealing my mother. The dark haired, incredibly pale skinned woman was already dressed; her hair was immaculate and her simple, practical makeup was too. I glance at the clock on my phone, groaning when I read the time. There was no way anyone should be up at this time, let alone washed, dressed and cheerful looking.
“Morning, sweetie.” She perches comfortably on the very bottom of my bed with a wide grin on her youthful, carefully made up face. “Did you sleep well?”
I frown slightly and nod, trying to force a smile to take the place of the negative expression. “Alright.” I tell her, getting to my bare feet and stretching lazily, an almost cat like movement.
“I`ll leave you to get ready, Heather is cooking toast and eggs and stuff. She says it should be ready in about ten minutes.” I nod and watch as the tall, slender woman leaves the room, her dark hair swaying out behind her.
I sigh deeply, deciding that it would be safer to dress in the bathroom, just on the off chance that Frankie was still hanging around. I quickly chose an outfit suitable for school and head to the bathroom, feet dragging on the soft carpet. I dress in a hurry, tugging off the clothes I had slept in and roughly pull the baggy the Iron Maiden shirt over my head, and then carefully edge the ripped, black skinnies up my long, thin legs.
When I get back to my silent room, it was still ghost free, something I was happy about, for the most part anyway. It felt strange, being in a place without a member of the dead. and I couldn`t deny it, try as I might, that I almost sort of did miss Frankie`s cheeky, lopsided grin. Then I notice something I hadn`t before, a thick tartan blanket had been placed over my bed sheets and the window had been closed over sometime in the night. It was just as well, seeing as it had been quite cold last night, but I couldn’t remember doing it myself. I shrug it off; assuming (or rather hoping) that It had just been my mother checking on me in the night, and not the ghost of some punkish looking gorgeous guy.
“Morning Mikey.” James greets me warmly, glancing up from behind a thick, seemingly never ending newspaper, carefully spooning mouthfuls of Kellogg’s Cornflakes into his mouth. The three girls were also sat around the table, they too looked a little weary and still half asleep just like I did and all three smile up at me shakily as they nibble on their breakfast.
“We`ll drop you off at about half past, alright?” Mom asks ad I shrug, uncaring.
“Sure,” I choke down a buttered piece of golden toast, “Whatever.”
…
Queen Victoria Secondary School, for students aged ten to sixteen reminded me very much of a prison, a fancy, red bricked prison, but still a prison. It had long narrow windows, winding corridors, black, rusted iron gates with spikes to stop anyone escaping and had thankfully only just recently dropped its strict uniform policy. The old uniform, which I had seen in old school photographs of my new stepsisters, had been dire. Smart black or grey trousers, with a white button up shirt neatly tucked into them, worn under a royal blue sweatshirt. Not my style, not at all. Fortunately, they had been so unpopular hat they had been done away with, and while pupils still had to dress respectfully, it was a hell of a lot better.
While standing outside the ancient building, I feel a strong wave of dread wash over me. James said this place had first been constructed after the death of Queen Victoria, meaning that it was over one hundred years old. Groaning mentally, wondering just how many ghosts I would encounter here, I follow my mother into the dismal looking school and am lead into what must be the head`s office, regretting every single step.
And yet, I am surprised to say that I encountered none at all. I didn`t see a single person who looked as though they didn`t belong here, I saw no one being walked right through by the oblivious, unconcerned living student body.
“Hello,” A tall, emerald eyed woman, who appeared to be in her early twenties walked strolled casually towards us, her dirty blonde and blue hair swaying out behind her as she walked. She had a pierce lip, ears and her skin was clear and pale, though she had a faint redness in her cheeks.
“I am Benjamine Alex Monroe, but I think that makes me sound old.” She pulls a face. “Please call me Benji or Benn.” We nod and she continues. “I am the deputy head of this fine school, and I believe that you are our new student, Michael Way?”
I nod sheepishly, her bright green, sparkling eyes staring right into my dull, tired hazel ones making me a little uneasy. There was something about this woman that didn`t seem right, that seemed a little off. Stupid as it sounds, I felt as though she was gazing right into my very soul.
“Here is a copy of your timetable, Mikey. Would you like to follow me and I will show you where your first class is.”
I nod, not really wanting to, because that would be it. I would finally be accepting that I was never returning to America, to Jersey.
Now that I thought about it, I found it a little weird that the deputy head of the school, who must have a very busy timetable, was able to find the time to show me around. As we walk, Benji a little way in front, glancing back every so often to check I hadn`t gotten lost in the noisy, busy crowd of other students, she begins to tells me all about the school, where everything was, what I could get expelled for ect. We pass by long, never ending rows of lockers and eventually stop outside one; number 13 which the blonde and blue haired woman explained was mine.
Only it seemed as though someone else had gotten to my locker first…