The Reinholt Academy (Part I)

The last summer of my childhood ended with an abrupt intrusion into my room. Not only was I sleeping, I was having this fantastic dream that everything I ever worried about was finally resolved and I could go on living a perfectly problem-less existence. The sun wasn't even out yet, but my father decided that his bellowing would be enough of an alarm clock. It was.

"Get up! Michael! It's time to get up." I didn't even bother asking what the hell he wanted because I knew what it was. Today was the day he was finally getting rid of his son and sending him off to some rich-boy preparatory school that was supposed to help me "get along" with the rest of my peers. I didn't really give a damn though, because all of my peers deserve to be dragged out and shot--for their own sake.

"Okay. I'm up..." I said.

"Today, you start your path onto becoming a real man," my father said, proudly. I hated the way he kept saying that I wasn't a real man. I was already taller than him at 17. I just sighed and went into the bathroom to groom myself. After I got dressed I just got into the passenger seat without saying a word to him. We already packed up all my belongings and hitched it to the top of the sedan. As we were driving, I couldn't help but wonder why I deserved something like this. I generally stay out of the way with people's business and I think that I'm not too much of a hassle for people. After about two hours of driving, we came up to archaic looking group of buildings. "The Reinholt Academy" was printed on a plaque outside of one of the buildings. Every piece of stone in the damn place looked like King Arthur himself carved it. I had already memorized the map of where my dormitory was.

"Ah, Michael. Yes I've read wonderful things about you in your recommendation from your former administration," the dean said. I could tell he was just sucking up to me so that my father would pay him some extra dollars. That's what really got to me. You take a guy like my father, the richest SOB in the city and everyone was nice to him. Not just to him either, it was to everyone he was with.

"Yessir," I started, "I tried my hardest to get into the Reinholt Academy because my father says that every person that comes out is an upstanding, successful citizen."

"Did he? He should know. Your father is the pride of Reinholt Academy, son," he said. I couldn't help but stop listening to the man. Everything about him was just completely false. I swear that even the little amount of white hair he had was probably a rug.

"I'll try my hardest to make him proud." I just bowed sort of and took my bags and left for the dormitories. Everywhere around me was complete chaos. People were shaking hands, laughing, crying, hugging, yelling, and just about everything else you could think of. I didn't stop for anything. I didn't know anyone from my old school that was coming to Reinholt, but if I did I probably disliked them anyway.

My dorm was called the "Huxley Hall" for some reason. Anything named after anyone is just for money, though, so I didn't even bother asking why. All of the halls were covered in discarded suitcases and trash. I have no idea how the hell one day in an empty room could produce so much trash, but it did. I tripped on a pair of golfing shoes on my way to the door and cursed. I could tell the first year here at Reinholt Academy would be a blast. The room was small, but it suited me well enough. I slung this pea coat I wore on the door and put my suitcase on the bed that was on the left side. Hardly any sunlight came in so I could actually sleep in some days, which is a luxury the house never really afforded me.

"Is this room 141?" I heard someone ask me. I turned around and saw, if there ever was, a ghastly looking person. His hair was a complete mess and it looked like his right cheek was starting to get a shine. I could already see a little discoloring.

"Yeah. That's the number on the door, isn't it?"

"If your god damn coat wasn't hanging on the door, I wouldn't have to ask."

"...Great to meet you. I'm Michael Burgess."

"The pleasure's all mine. Lorrie Portslander. My real name is Laurel, but I think it's too much of a girl's name."

"...Hm." So now I met my roommate. He wasn't quite the biggest, musclebound body-building types, but I could tell that he was...like that. There was kind of this wild look about him that assured me I'd better keep an eye on my wallet at all times. We unpacked in silence. I was looking at my schedule of classes when another head popped into the door.

"Tape. Got any?"

"The hell're you?" Lorrie said, shutting the drawer of his dresser.

"Louie frigging Anderson. But seriously. Do you have any tape I could borrow?"

At that moment, I realized that home was probably the safest thing I could have to any peace and quiet that the world would grant me for the rest of my teenage years. The Reinholt Academy was calling and my father, unfortunately, made me answer the call.