I shuffled away from him, cowed that he and Risped were in cahoots about threatening consequences. I sat myself at a table in one of the farthest corners of the cafeteria. I was beginning to feel more convinced that this place was one huge trap. One wrong step and you were part of the faculty instead of the student body. I wouldn’t have been surprised if there was a rule against good grades or breathing too loudly.
Since most of our group had had more time to make friends than the T-Z gang before us, many kids sat in groups. There were a few people who sat by themselves at the circular tables, but they were probably social outcasts to begin with. I was seated by myself too, but I was observing the others at that moment, not trying to separate myself from them.
The biggest clique was seated at two tables clustered together. They were the main source of noise, laughing and shouting and roughhousing. They were probably what I called the “Ultimate Students.” Normally, the “US” were the athletic and the beautiful. The only factor that separated them from the other kids with the same traits was their popularity. Through some defect in their genes, the kids of the US gained popularity and became part of the best group in the school.
In other days and ages, people would have referred to the US as the pricks and preps of the school. These kids had fashion, money, and power but a general lack of empathy. If you weren’t a US, you were dirt. This was probably the reason everybody hated the US except the US. I knew this from experience.
When I was popular, I belonged to the US. I assumed these other kids, just like me, happened to be caught acting smart—a cardinal sin of the US—and got kicked out of their group. The only difference between this new US and me was I sat here and they sat there. Whereas I had learned how cruel my “friends” were; these guys must’ve wished every night that they could one day make it back in. Sadly, they got their chance. In the matter of one hour, these outcasts formed the nerd version of the US, with all the old expectations except for one: they could be smart. The thought was sickening.
The “middle-class” groups of students were more evenly dispersed. They sat three or four to a table and spoke more discreetly. These students were unpopular Ultimate Students with other smaller defects which consequently categorized them in a class below the US. Although they did not oppress the student body like the US, they made up the bulk of it. I aimed to be in this class.
The rest of the kids were probably social rejects or specialized groups such as gangs or Goths. They were the scum-lined bottom. These kids would find no comfort with most of the other students, the teachers, or even with themselves. Part of me cringed at my thought process, a remnant of my time in the US.
And then there was me. I sat alone, but I did so to study my fellow students. I didn’t know why I decided to be the researcher. I never had this urge before, so where did it come from?
Instinct seemed to be the only answer. Given such abnormal circumstances, I would, in turn, act abnormal. Still, why? I felt I was ignoring something.
“I’m not ignoring anything,” I grumbled inaudibly. I was just making a story for myself. I hated the school, so it was natural for me to search for more reasons to hate it. Simply, I was acting stupidly and making everything more of a pain than it truly was. “Students, may I have your attention,” a voice crackled on an intercom, cutting through my thoughts. I peered past the endless tables and students to find Ms Risped commanding the voice through a small walkie-talkie. “We are now leaving to see and assign you your dorms. Before you leave, please dispose of all your trash and place your trays above the trashcans.”
Realizing I hadn’t eaten a bite of my dinner, I hurriedly stuffed my mouth with as much food as it could hold and dumped the rest. With only half of a pizza slice sliding down my throat, I shuffled out of the cafeteria as part of the procession led by Risped.
I fought my way out of a crowd of aggressive students who seemed a little too eager to reach the dorms. However, as I tried to enter a less determined mass, it seemed every student was trying to be the first in line. I even felt a faint urge to push to the front of the crowd, but I resisted and trotted alongside a group of shoving teenagers.
Overwhelmed by this commotion, I glanced at Ms Risped. I found her still wearing her little smirk. It was a wonder that she could smile in this anarchy. From my first impressions, I assumed she disliked disruption, but she seemed perfectly fine now.
My thoughts scattered as we entered the dorms area. I had thought all the other sections of the school were big, but if they were big, the dorms region was monstrous. Hundreds of doors led to hundreds of rooms which riddled dozens of halls which made up these catacombs. Our rambunctious group was struck silent when confronted with the sheer enormity of this section. Ms Risped took advantage of this momentary stillness.
“The rooms I will assign you will be your ‘homes’ for the next four years,” she said. “You will be sharing a room with three others, and for obvious reasons, the dorms will not be co-ed.” Muffled giggles and nudging accompanied this last statement.
“Unlike most of the other rooms in this school,” continued Ms Risped tersely, clearly annoyed with our immaturity, “your dorm has few rules. You may do anything you please as long as it causes no harm to other people or to property outside your room. Be warned however, if you destroy anything in your dorm, the staff is not responsible for fixing it, so either you must live without whatever you destroyed or your parents will pay for the repairs.
“I will now call four of you up at a time to receive key cards to your dorm. Unless you wish to spend your school years in the hallway, I advise you not to lose these key cards. Once you get your keys, you have twenty minutes of rest time in your dorm before I’ll intercom you to continue our tour. To begin…”
After a few minutes, Risped came to my last name, “…Thomas Bean, Silas Benson, Warren Bent, and Robert Billings.”
Three others and I separated ourselves from the group, coming up to Risped to receive two red key cards each. As we walked down the first hall to our room, we did what any normal kid would do: eye and label our roommates. We were stuck with each other for four years, so we needed to stereotype each other before we were proven wrong. If I was to trust my labeling skills, I was stuck with an athletic guy and two unremarkable boys.
As we neared our room, Athlete bolted to the door, jammed the key card in the slot, and bustled inside, leaving the door ajar. The rest of us hesitated until we heard him call, “Top bunk is mine!” Even here, calling dibs was respected.
On first look, the dorm wasn’t anything particularly amazing. The windowless main room was only furnished with two wooden bunk beds and four squat dressers beside them. Our luggage lay bunched in the middle, and two closed doors stood on either side of the room.
“This bunk is mine, got it?” Athlete called from the top right bunk, pointing a finger to the bed for added emphasis. “As for the dressers, this one at the head of my bed is mine.”
The three of us silently picked furniture, only interrupting each other to offer a bunk or dresser. I got stuck with the bunk under our athlete. I cursed myself for being so accommodating to people I didn’t even know.
As we went about cramming our clothes and other possessions inside our dressers, one boy dared to ask the question, “So, who are all of you?”
“I’m Silas,” replied one of the plain boys after a moment’s hesitation. “Took an I.Q. test and here I am.”
“Tommy’s my name,” said the daring boy. “I’ve been an alcoholic for ten years, and I’m here because…oh wait, wrong discussion.” Tommy beamed as I swallowed a groan. “I tend to make lame jokes, so watch out. I might annoy you.”
“I’m Robert Billings,” announced the Athlete, turning around from his work so his words could ring more loudly. Silenced followed. I expected more to follow, and from his blank look, he did too. After a few seconds, he went back to his clothes and began sorting furiously. It seemed he wasn’t one for introductions.
“And now you all know I’m Warren,” I said. I was about to leave it at that before Silas’ words finally struck me. It could’ve been a coincidence, and yet… “Silas, when did you take your I.Q. test?”
Silas stopped stuffing pants inside his full dresser. He turned and countered, “Why do you ask?”
“Well, I was accepted into this school because of an I.Q. test I took about five months ago. I thought it would be a strange coincidence if you just happened to take it recently.”
“It’ll be even weirder if it you did, Silas,” Tommy interjected, “because I did a virtual I.Q. test about six months ago.”
“So did I,” Silas finally croaked.
We were still. Each pair of eyes met with each other, each sharing a reluctance to accept the abnormality of the coincidence. Then Billings blurted out, “What were all your guys’ I.Q. scores?”
Tommy was quick to laugh at this, which dispelled the tension. Silas and I joined in.
“What?” Robert muttered. “I was just trying to break that awkward silence.” He grumbled some more before he lost interest and once again started putting his clothes away.
I didn’t bother to close my set of drawers. To do so would disrupt the perfect disarray of my clothing, so I left them alone and shoved my empty suitcase under my bed. Unlike me, my dorm buddies decided to be neat and take their time. Their loss. It gave me more time to myself to check out the rest of the dorm.
Tommy paused while folding a shirt, “I wonder how all our luggage got here. I don’t see any suitcases with nametags on them. They didn’t screw up our luggage, so they did a crazy job of delivering. Mighty strange if you guys ask me.”
Once again, my roommates paused. This time Robert didn’t distract us. This time we were all forced to wonder how the school knew what couldn’t be known. At least, I thought we were. However, the guys gradually returned to their work, making no comment on the abnormality.
“Don’t you think this is weird, guys?” I asked, standing beside one of the closed doors.
“Hmmm?” Tommy replied.
“The luggage thing!” I felt stress bubble in my stomach.
“Oh, it’s probably something explainable,” he replied dismissively.
Tommy’s nonchalance struck me. Quietly, I entered the next room and shut the door behind me. I tried to think over the predicament, a slight headache buzzing in my skull. Was the luggage thing so easily explainable? It was strange, wasn’t it? And the I.Q. thing? That was more than a coincidence, right? Why did we all ignore it?
The world was not working with me at the moment. Either the lack of food was getting to me or it was the stress of starting this school, but the ground was definitely not staying under my feet. Teetering dangerously, I found a couch beside me and fell into it.
Laying down gave a little stability to the world. I shifted my head and found another couch opposite me, blocked off by a coffee table. When I craned my neck back, I found a couple of wooden desks and chairs. A study.. Awesome.
“God, something’s wrong,” I whispered, throwing my face into the couch.
I had lost track of my thoughts, moving from revelations to rooms! Despite a rising sense of urgency, the couch somehow still comforted me, coaxing me from my stress and into its soft embrace. After some time, it succeeded. Everything had an explanation; I just didn’t know it yet. Standing back up, I ignored the pit in my stomach.
I stumbled out of the room, passing my colleagues without offering as much as a glance at them. Hoping it wasn’t a closet, I opened the door on the other side of the bedroom. Luckily, I discovered what I wanted: a bathroom.
As I splashed my face with water, I wondered why I had acted so strangely. I felt an urge to feel more worried, yet I could not muster the worry. In retrospect, it seemed like I was overacting. It wasn’t unusual; it was a new school. There were those abnormal coincidences, but for all I knew, they were probably just insignificant, abnormal coincidences.
I walked out of the bathroom slightly refreshed. Everything seemed to be under control, and I was fine with that. With worrying out of the way, I could actually try to enjoy school. At least bear it.
Just as I collapsed on my bed, a small intercom in the ceiling’s back corner turned on with a crackle.
“Okay students,” Risped barked through the intercom. “It’s time to move on to the final stage of our tour. We will visit the classrooms. Because we are running behind, we will have to shorten this part of our tour and forgo seeing your teachers. Please meet me in the gym in five minutes.” The intercoms shut off with a loud crack.
The four of us quickly gathered our newly-unpacked wallets, jammed our lunch and key cards in them, and bustled out into the hall. We wasted no time in hurrying to the gym, already fearing the consequences if we were late. We didn’t know her yet, but we didn’t want to see that principal angry.
Our group was part of the first tide to meet Risped in the gym. I chuckled when I realized we had made it back in the first minute. By far the most embarrassed, Robert made a point of leaving us, disappearing off to the nearest group of preps as soon as he caught sight of them. Silas, Tommy, and I were content with each other, our common bond being our distaste towards him.
When the last few students spilled out, Risped began the trek across the gym to the classrooms. Our march hesitated only a few seconds as we came to the black hell of the staircase that led to the classrooms. Its maw looked bottomless, spilling into oblivion. The kids at the front of the line paused apprehensively as Risped descended the stairs, but it took only a shout from her to send the stampede crashing down the stairs. As I too found myself moving with the mass, I couldn’t help but remember my lemmings metaphor again. We were falling into the ocean. God, I was falling into the ocean.
After a long descent to the bottom, our group came upon another unending hall bleached with yellowing florescent lights and lined with an infinite number of opened doorways. Risped continued forward persistently, only pausing intermittently to point out interesting features in each room. If it weren’t for her helpful descriptions, I would actually have to read the door labels to know which class taught which subject. Prestigious school or not, these were regular classrooms. Based on the frequency of yawns and sighs, my cohort agreed that a tour was not needed.
“I realize this tour may have been a bit too extensive for your attention spans,” Risped said, her annoyance not hidden from us. “I am going to allow you to go off by yourselves now, but remember students, you have to be in your rooms and in your beds by 11:00. You are not allowed inside the classrooms or cafeteria at this time; please do not let us find you in those areas. Now please go and enjoy yourselves.”
Most of us didn’t need permission. The crowd moved toward the stairs, students talking about going to the game room or hanging out in the dorms. Only Tommy, a few others, and I trailed behind. I had hoped to go to the game room as well, but we were probably the last group to finish the tour, and no amount of running would reduce the crowd in the game room.
“Where are you heading, Warren?” Tommy called as I shuffled towards the dorms. Despite coming to the same conclusion I had, he was going to see what the game room was like now.
“I’m a bit tired,” I sighed, hand in my pockets. It was true, I felt wiped out.
Tommy nodded as he walked away. “I’ll warn the others to come in quietly in case you’ve fallen asleep.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled, turning away. I sighed and made my way back to the dorm. Walking through the deserted gym and dorm hallways, left to myself, I began to mull over the day’s events. It began with a crappy trip with my parents, continued with a strange tour of the school, and ended with a daunting future of four years in the same place. What a day it was, packed with so many emotions, so many people, so many rooms. It was overload.
Yet it wasn’t all that bad. I had a new chance to make friends. For once I didn’t have to hide anything. No more lies, no more purposeful failings, no more acting like an idiot. I could be myself. What a thought! There was even a chance I could actually enjoy such a thing as “learning” with these “top-notch” teachers. Why not say it: maybe, just maybe, I could actually enjoy school. This was some strange thinking, considering there were a plethora of peculiarities I still had to worry about, but perhaps I was just adjusting to the school. I would look into all the strange coincidences some other time. For now, I would hang up the investigating cap and put on the school one.
Chapter Two End