Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end.
-
Semisonic, Closing
Time
Chapter 1: Wake up Call
†
“Don’t make me drag you out of bed, Jenna. It’s only the first day- If you
start sleeping in now…” Two seconds later, the old digital alarm clock’s red
sectional numbers switched to glow a blazing 6:45 and the garbled sounds of an
off-tuned radio grinded through the room.
In
response, my eyes still closed, I rolled off the edge of the bed onto the floor
with a loud thud. From the hallway, my mother, Christina, knocked again with
weak tapping sounds – her bones were thin and with her delicate figure it was
the best she could do against my brain muffling in and out of sleep. Where I
was strongly built, she was all bones. Where I was willowy, she was brittle.
“Are
you alright in there honey? Did you roll off the bed again?” I threw my pillow
as hard as I could against the door and groaned in a voice hoarse from the
night’s restless sleep.
“I’m fine, just
practicing for my career as the ‘Duck and Cover’ mascot...”
I
could tell she was only half convinced when her muffled voice said through the
door, “ Ok, well, don’t be long, or you’ll have no time to eat breakfast.” I’d
stopped wondering why mom bothered to say this, and saw that I had been lazy
when I went to bed: a shot-glass still sat on my desk in plain sight.
“Come on—Food!” She
shouted, sounding annoyed. I hadn’t
eaten breakfast since 5th grade, something my mom always seemed to
forget. It wasn’t like I had a vendetta against eggs, bacon or muffins or
anything. I simply hadn’t eaten breakfast in six years because I never seemed
to have time after haphazardly throwing on whatever clean things lay at the
bottom of my closet and running to catch the bus.
After taking the dirty shot-glass off my desk
and shoving it into a clean woolen tube sock of a particularly lurid yellow in
my drawer, I threw on a pair of jeans before remembering about the dress code.
No denim. Ok. No T-shirts with words. Fine. Those were pretty standard private
school rules as far as I knew, but I remembered Liv had told me about a couple
more that weren’t so vanilla. Checking the clock, I estimated that I had about
fifteen minutes left, as the bus would be running late with parents sending
their beloved children off to dormitories for the first time. Not that I was
bitter or anything.
Sometimes it was a
blessing and a curse to live in town. My dad had put his foot down about me
living in the dorms; we would see if I did any better at this school before I
was given the freedom of dorm living. It was ok though. Most people I knew
lived in town, and those that did live in dorms always complained about off
campus privileges and the lack of gender diversity in common rooms. Not to mention dorm students tended to stick
more closely to each other anyway. A few of the Covenfeld kids had the grades
for Spledidus Stultus, but their codependency was understandable, and they
dwelled in neither the realm of the townies nor the dormers.
I pulled open a cluttered drawer on
my desk and after some digging pulled out a crumpled piece of heavy orange
paper, with official looking writing and a school seal emblazoned on the top.
By Declaration of the
Most High and Glorious Master Proffesor Concert Master Manfred
Lyre
The following Rules shall be follow-ed at all
times.
1.
All forms of
Starcheth must be consum-ed. Any perpetrator with starch (especially potatoes)
left uneaten upon thouest plate shall recieveth detention for one month.
2.
No cats be-eth
allow-ed on campus as they be a signeth of bad luck. Any one who disobeys wilt
recieveth detention for one weeketh.
3.
Any man who be
unpresent for the Most High and Glorious Master
Proffesor Concert Master Manfred Lyre ‘s monthly artism lectures
shalt be expell-ed immediately
4.
Shoes shalt
not be worneth in thou yonder locker rooms as the Japanese tradition of not
wearing shoes in bath-ed houses must be-eth observ-ed. Punishment shalt be to
clean the locker rooms for three months.
5.
The colors
puce and orange must be-eth worn on all Friday the 13ths, to prevent malifluent
luck. Anyone not wearing the colors shall haveth detention that afternoon.
At first I had
thought the piece of paper had to be a joke by my sister, Hope, who had been
jealous that I was being switched to a prestigious private institution. When
Liv had tried to tell me that it was legitimate school literature, I had
thought she was pulling my leg. It wasn’t until I had visited orientation that
I began to rethink the matter. Despite all of the time wasting campfire tales
we had been told, it was a good experience for learning my new enemy,
Splendidus Stultus. Teachers had seemed reasonable, and the freshmen around me
gullible but likable enough. However, everyone had been sure to dress in a
disgusting color of light brownish pink with orange accessories, including my
friend Luke, who, being a guide, would have told me if it was all a big
orientation joke. I had yet to figure out how legitimate all these rules were,
but I wasn’t ready to test them quite yet. Settled that the date was listed as
the 9th, I grimaced and put on the last resort outfit that my mother
had come in and painstakingly picked out for me the night before.
“You don’t want to come on too strongly—at
least for the first week.” Mom had cautioned. “I know that you are a perfectly
normal girl, and your friends know that, but I think… I think you should tone
it down and let the other kids get to know you before you go back to dressing…
like you used to.”
And
I did understand. Some people felt uncomfortable when I wore my normal lace and
corseted look. Even back at Westhawk High, I knew how much my clothing had
stood out, and while different was now becoming mainstream, it would be a while
before I could dye my hair magenta again without drawing at least a few
withering looks.
I
glanced at my watch and unplugged the straight iron I’d been using to melt away
the frizzing waves my coppery hair was prone to. No time to curl it today.
Seeing my bangs at least had a decent sidepart going for them, I slung my bag
across my shoulders and tried (and failed) to slide down the banister. I don’t
know how they make that look so easy in movies.
Running
past the kitchen table I saw my dad, Jim Doloramor, reading the paper and
eating a slice of toast. Before he could notice me, I gave him a kiss on the
cheek, turned, and waved him goodbye as he chuckled after me.
“Work hard this time, Jenna- your Ma will kill
me if you get in any fights here. Stick to your schoolwork.”
“Would it kill you
to let me have a little fun, Pops?”
“Since when is a
punch to the face, a suspension and a grounding fun?”
“Never said the
last two were—”
“Well, do me a
favor; next time you stick up for the weak, don’t get caught, alright?”
“No… You won’t
have to worry about that...” My eventual expulsion from Westhawk had little to
do with academic performance and all to do with my exemplary skill at beating
up on bullies: Not something I was much proud of anymore.
Shaking off the
moment, I opened the front door with a loud whooshing sound. This was the cue
for Silena and Hope to come charging from their respective rooms, down the stairs
and out the door ahead of me.
As Silena passed,
she shouted, “Come on slow poke! The bus will be here any minute!”
Hope dropped back
to add, “Anyway, aren’t you excited?”
No I’m not excited. Relieved, maybe, for a
fresh start, but no. I wouldn’t go as far as excited. I bit my lip and ran
after them. I reached the curb just seconds ahead of the youngest, Selina, who
pouted her lip, believing I should have let her win. Hope arrived last, looking
winded despite the short run. She was a little bit on the frumpy side of
fourteen years old, but Pops and I figured that her figure would tighten up
when she started soccer in the fall. It was my mother who was currently
stunting Hope’s self-esteem and her motivation to work out, as she nitpicked my
sister’s look in what she assumed was a caring and not ‘entirely unhelpful”
way. She had done something similar to me, and it was thanks to her approach
that despite my healthy weight, I still carried a calorie counting app on my
phone.
“Well, Jen, aren’t
you?” Said Hope, breathlessly.
“Aren’t I what?”
“Excited!”
“Not really. It’s
just school.”
The
eighth grader gaped up at me like I was crazy.
“It’s more than just school.” Said
Hope, a dreamy look coming into her eyes. “This is your chance to change around
your image completely! You can be anyone you want! You could be a cheerleader,
or an artist, or a theater person or a slut.”
“HOPE!”
Hope
looked at me, unsure. “A bigger slut?”
“Silena’s standing
right there!” I said, not bothering to correct her opinion. It was true that
the past summers activities might have led to my middle school age sister to
assume certain things, but it seemed as if she had little concept of what a
slut actually did. In a few years, she herself might regret slut shaming. I
hadn’t slept with anyone, and I certainly hadn’t been sleeping around. However,
she had walked in on my friends and I after we’d had a few too many beers, and
I’d had to give her a list of every person I’d ever kissed to keep her quiet
from Mom and Dad about the drinking. So far she had used the knowledge as an
excuse to talk about adult subjects, something I was thankful for, considering
that someday I knew she’d realize the blackmail potential.
“You don’t say
those kinds of things in front of a first grader!” I said as Hope grinned
slyly, but I already could see that it was too late. Silena was giggling and
looking up at us with eyes that read all too clear what she would be discussing
in the confines of first grade recess. Knowing the damage was already done, I
sighed and turned back to Hope.
“I don’t want to
be any of those things. I just want to be me, and trust me, being a slut is not
on that list.” Silena giggled again as a canary yellow bus emblazoned with the
words, Corner’s Wreath Elementary pulled up to the curb.
Pointing
to the words on the side of the bus, I said, “See that Silena? This is your
bus. It says so right on the—”
“I’m
not stupid, Jenna, I can read. Now if you’ll excuse me, Ill be getting on my
ride and showing off Princess Chainsaw and Lady Saberskates to everyone. Later
gators!” I still had no idea how to feel about the latest line of fad
horror-romance children’s toys to come onto the market. What ever happened to
Pokemon and Polly Pocket? Despite the noise as the door opened, I could hear
the groan of “Oh Lordy… those damn toys…” from the bus driver as my little
sister skipped up the steps in a yellow jumper, an iceskating warrior woman and
a fashionable zombified chainsaw enthusiast in hand.
“When
did she get so fresh?” Hope asked.
“I
think this all goes back to that time you left HBO on and she watched seven straight
hours of True Blood.” I shot her a look. “Not that I think I’m even old enough
to watch that yet.”
Hope shrugged her shoulders and muttered, “I
watch it for the plot…” Another bus approached the sidewalk, and Hope added in
a fake girly voice, “Now if you’ll excuse me, Ill be getting on my ride and
showing off my new ‘Chthulhu-the-Cannibalizing-Mecha-Jesus-Promqueen’ to
everyone. Later gator!” Even I had to laugh at her made-up doll that in this
day and age could, quite possibly, sell pretty well.
It
was only after the doors closed and the bus rounded the corner that I dropped
whatever fake excitement I had mustered. Leaning against the bus post, I grumbled
aloud, thinking I was alone:
“Why can’t the summer just last forever?”
“That IS the eternal question, isn’t it?”
Embarrassingly, I jumped. I hadn’t been
expecting an answer. To my left, I saw a boy of about my age holding a black
book bag covered in iron-on band logos smirking a familiar smile. Even without
seeing the chipped left-most canine, I knew it was Luke right away. His gait as
he walked over was strong, and there was no trace of the hitching limp that
Zack tried so hard to keep hidden.
I
could feel my face relax when I saw that he was wearing black pants and a button
down shirt with a red tie: contemporary, appropriate, but still chic and a
little bad-ass. His dark hair was tousled and just long enough to cover the
back of his neck; his laughing eyes a clear, crystal, grey.
“Finally
joining the gang, then.” He smiled and the chip in his tooth was plainly
visible. “It’s about damn time, Jennamor.”
“You
know, if you keep calling me that, it’ll look to people like we’re together.”
“LET
THEM LOOK!” He cried to the heavens above, making me snort with laughter.
Recently Luke had seemed a little downcast, and tired. It was good seeing him
make a ham of himself.
“Nice
frills,” he said, looking me up and down. I grimaced. Mom hadn’t picked the
dark lace I would have chosen but gone for a style straight out of Stepford
Suburbia.
“You
look like you’ll fit right in. If it were the 50s. Wish I had time to drag you
inside and get those clothes off you…” I stared at him, shaking my head. He
could get so fresh sometimes. “-and get you some cooler duds! That did not come
our right- I’m-” I couldn’t keep my face
straight any longer, though I loved watching him squirm. I cracked a smile, for
which he was less than amused.
“I try to be a gentleman but no… we should get
on board the bus before it leaves, don’t you think?” I’d been so preoccupied
poking fun at Luke that I hadn’t noticed our bus pull up. Unlike the others it was
a bright shade of green, and I wasn’t used to the new stop yet. As I boarded I
wistfully looked back on the marked bench where my old bus would be pulling up
shortly.
“Oh,
right.” Sighing, I walked up the last step and glanced down the aisle. There
weren’t two seats left next to each other.
“Looks
like, we’ll have to part ways for now. Ill see you at school, Jennamor.”
I
rolled my eyes, but he didn’t even look back. After a moment of searching the
nearest faces, I realized that I hardly knew anyone on the bus, and by the time
Liv caught my eye, her seat was taken- by non other than Luke. He smirked at
me, raising both eyebrows, knowing that I would have to sit with someone I
didn’t know. Asshole.
I remained
standing as the bus lurched forward until a small nerdy looking girl grudgingly
moved her backpack and suitcase aside. I swear I tried to make conversation
with this mousy girl, but no matter what subjects I brought up, from videogames
to anime, the most I forced out of this girl were one-word answers. Trisha, as
her named turned out to be, had given me the window seat, and at the final stop
before the school, her friend had taken the seat across the aisle. They had
begun discussing the latest boy-band concert. The girl was a true Belieber. I
swear I had this Trisha Evans pegged for a Nerdfighter. So much for me
expanding my horizon.
By
the time I grabbed my things that had gone flying when the bus stopped,
everyone was already off it. Shoving what I’d found back in my bag, which had
burst open, I exited and looked around. A small brunette girl was waiting for me
by the curb, holding a piece of orange paper. Smiling, the copper skinned girl,
dressed in a blue T-shirt and capris, walked over and said, “Hi, my name is
Olivia Canto but my friends call me Liv. Is there anything I can help you with,
Jennifer?”
“You
can help me get the stick out of your ass, Liv.”
“Hey,
if I’m in a damn formal skirt doing a damn formal job that I’m getting paid
almost nothing for, the least I can do is follow the damn script.”
“Don’t
bust a vessel now, Liv.”
“I
ain’t got time to improv. I don’t even understand why we need to do these
curb-side pick ups for transfers. By Junior year you think they’d expect you
newbies to know how to find the admissions office.”
“Well
thanks all the same. I’m glad it was you that got me though. Some of the, uh,
guides, look a little too friendly.” The one I was looking at in particular was
a boy, wearing an identical shirt to Liv’s, who’s overlarge smile never faltered
as he grabbed everything an older girl was carrying up the stairs. The gesture
was more creepy than helpful.
“Yeah…
No one really gets Brent anyway…” She directed her next words at the boy, who’s
smile still never faltered. “Let the girl carry her own stuff, Brent! She’s
practically gonna hit you if you keep picking up the things that fall from her
purse. It’s upsidown, moron!”
Indeed, Brent had
begun picking up what he must not have known were tampons and holding them in
his mouth so he could shove what remained on the ground into other bags.
“For
the love of…” Liv turned to me and gestured towards an oddly shaped building.
“Just keep walking that way till you get to the giant beaker. I need to deal
with this—Brent, NO! We do not put other peoples tampons in our mouth!-- Mr.
Felis is coming in late today- our advisor- you’ll meet him in your history
class—which reminds me. Here’s your schedule,” she quickly grabbed a piece of
paper from the messenger bag dangling at her side and held it out to me. I put
it carefully in my bag and promptly lost it to the depths. “Skadaddle- I’ll
catch up.”
And
so I walk up the long, winding staircase towards Splendidus Stultus Academy
alone. Looking around my first impression was that I had been transported to a giant’s
supply closet. Every single building I passed was shaped like a different
object.
I
whistled and thought to myself, Liv, you
weren’t kidding… giant beaker… It has a door? What is this place? When they
had brought us to orientation it had been dark, and the building with the
theatre had had brick architecture straight out of the 70s.
“It
was Crazy Lyre’s idea—excuse me, Professor
Lyre’s idea. He seemed to think that all the buildings should be shaped like
what they taught.” Liv said as she caught up to me. I must have been walking
slower than I thought, taking in my surroundings.
“So
the giant books?” I indicated the structure we were currently passing which was
shaped like a stack of three oversized books with an open book awning over a
sliding glass door.
“That
would be the English building. The history building’s where we’re headed. Its
that one over there shaped like a globe.” Said Liv, pointing at something round
with a Geodesic glass dome donning its top. The rest was obscured by several
deciduous trees.
“Where’d
they get all the money to make sculptures out of the buildings?”
Liv laughed
darkly. “Donations intended for scholarship kids I’d bet, or else they wouldn’t
be so rare. 2000 students in the whole school and there are three tops.”
“How do you know
that?” I asked; it was unlike Liv to know about things that didn’t involve
social gossip. Academic gossip usually bored her. Then again, we’d never gone
to school together. Our relationship had mainly focused around summer and
weekend parties and most recently around improving our knowledge of low-level
alcohol. I’d stopped minding the taste or the buzz that followed, but I hadn’t
found the same solace in being wasted she had. I wasn’t a fan of being out of
control. Freedom, she called it.
“Well, I only know of three scholarship kids,
and I guess they all know each other. They’re all from that orphanage.”
Covenfeld, the Foster Home, I thought. I
didn’t know much about it, and Liv probably knew more than I did. She had a
friend who was from there. Must have been one of the scholarship kids.
“I
know one, and he says that at the PR photo-ops –the school does those for its
generous image—they hire actors to help thicken the pictures. Says you can tell
who’s a real scholarship kid by which ones wouldn’t look perfect in a chip and
dale uniform … Anyway, here we are!”
Liv
held open the door for me and we walked inside with the stragglers who had
moved in only that morning.
The
inside of the history building was just as curious as the outside. When I
entered, I immediately came face to face with a wall plastered in old articles,
posters and what appeared to be ripped out pages of old textbooks. I didn’t get
a chance to examine them though, because Liv immediately pulled me down a hallway
to my left unexpectedly.
“What time is it?”
Liv asked as she whisked me past various classrooms, all decorated according to
their occupants taste.
“7:59 am.” I replied.
“Good.
It’s just a little further. We should be able to make it in time—shit.” Just as
we rounded a doorway marked 415 an obnoxious voice boomed over an unseen
loudspeaker, “GET TO CLASS LITTLE DOVES” except because of the strange lisp in
the speakers voice, it wasn’t clear at first that it was a sentence let alone
English.
The
young teacher inside the room looked from Liv to me and, deciding to be
lenient, check marked our names off the attendance sheet as the rest of the
class rose from their various desks and exited the classroom. The teacher, a
fashionably dressed woman with dark hair and sharp green eyes, walked over to
us with purpose.
“I heard you would be touring a transfer
around today Liv, so I’m not going to write you up. But as you know, not all of
the teachers in this school will be as… normal. So please get yourself and Miss
Doloramor to your classes in succinct fashion. See you girls in a few hours.” †
© 2014 Lex Vex
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