"'Dark Wood Manor. An independent boarding school for boys aged thirteen to eighteen. The school was originally founded in 1849. The 17th century manor house is surrounded by 612 acres of beautiful North Yorkshire countryside, most of it covered with magnificent woodland, perfect for outdoor activities such as hunting, survival skills and cross-country athletics.
The 400 students are separated into four houses: North, East, South and West. Each house resides in the wings of the manor house.
Dark Wood Manor provides a happy and healthy environment for both learning and making friendships...'" PJ looked up from the brochure and stared out of the windscreen ahead. He felt sick, not sure whether this was because he was so nervous about starting boarding school or just because he'd been reading in the back of the car as it travelled along windy country roads.
"It sounds amazing!" said his mother from the driver's seat "You're going to love it, PJ!"
The young boy fidgeted about in his seat. Why were blazers so damn itchy?
"I'm going to hate it" he grumbled "can't we just turn around and go home?"
"No. It's your own fault you're in this possition, son."
PJ covered his face with his hands. She was right. He'd been neglecting his schoolwork for 2 years now, he'd gone from top of the class, A* student to bottom set, F grade problem child in what seemed like no time at all. He immediately regretted all the time he'd wasted shooting police and stealing cars on his XBox, doodling and sketching out his bullies' gruesome deaths, all the songs he'd written about how much he hated them all. He knew he'd always wanted to make movies though, he'd bought a little flip cam a few months back and it'd become his prize possession. PJ had thought that schoolwork never mattered really, wouldn't need algebra to make movies. All he needed to do was get ok grades and he could get on a college course at the end of the year and become the next Hitchcock. He now realised that his expectations had been a little high. And now here he was, sat in the back of his mum's car in his itchy school uniform, speeding through the Yorkshire countryside on his way to Dark Wood Manor.
Chris found himself staring at the high ceiling. His face ached. He let out a weak groan. Thick red liquid poured from his nose and down his cheek. He sat up slowly and looked around him.
The walls of the corridor were covered in display boards showing off colourful paintings and sculptures that students had created. There was nobody around. Chris presumed all the kids had gone back to their dormitories for study.
How long had he been out for? It couldn't have been that long; his nose was still bleeding. The fountain of scarlet had changed direction and was now rolling downwards on to his collar, staining the white fabric of his shirt a muddy brown colour as it dried.
Shakily, he pulled himself to his feet. He knew exactly where he was and exactly what had happened. Although he'd purposely left his last lesson of the day half an hour late to avoid him, Mark and his gang had waited and pounced as he went to the store room to put the paints away. Chris was a big guy and could usually defend himself considerably well, but he was outnumbered this time and was no match for the captain of the rugby team and his 3 friends.
This had been going on since he was first sent to Dark Wood Manor Day and Boarding School 4 years ago. Chris had never really fitted in very well: he wasn't sure if it was due to his slightly feminine traits, dress sense, that he was openly bisexual, his dramatic and artistic talents or the fact that those talents had earned him a scholarship to the school that was the main reason why all the boys hated him.
Chris had wished for a friend at first, but now he was so used to the feeling of loneliness that it was almost a comfort, he didn't need a friend, he'd do fine on his own.
"Ah, Christopher Kendall!" came a voice from behind him "Just the chap I wanted to see!"
Chris turned slowly to see his housemaster, Mr McCartney, heading towards him, a shorter boy with curly brown hair trotting nervously behind him, tugging a large trunk. He smiled at Chris, who just ignored him completely.
"Evening, Sir" said Chris "What can I do for you?"
Mr McCartney pushed his dirty glasses up his wrinkled nose before gesturing to the boy behind him. "This is Pascal Liguori. He's 2 years below you and he's starting here today. He'll be sharing your room, as its the only space free at the moment. I'm sure you'll both get along swimmingly! Now, take Mr Liguori to the wing and show him around, help him get unpacked and so on!" Mr McCartney squinted up at Chris' face "Been playing rugby, have we?"
"Uh, yeah. Rugby." Chris nodded.
"Good to see you've started to participate in more sports, my boy! I'll leave you to it" Mr McCartney plodded off back down the corridor again, leaving the two boys alone.
"Hi" the curly haired boy smiled shyly at the floor "I'm PJ. You're Christopher, right?"
"Chris. Yeah" Chris grumbled in response
"Cool! You in year 13?"
"Yeah" he grumbled again
Chris was certain he didn't like this boy at all. He'd be just like the rest of the idiotic boys here. Nothing he wanted to be involved with.
PJ looked up at the older boy. He wondered why he was being so rude. 'I hope all the other boys aren't like that' he thought. Chris seemed quite stuck up to him. He wasn't sure they were going to get along at all. PJ dreaded the thought of being stuck in a room with this kid for more than two minutes, let alone a year.
Still, PJ was not one to judge. Maybe this Chris guy was really nice when you got to know him. He hoped this was the case.
"Cool" PJ carried on "I'm in year 11, I'm 16"
"Cool."
"You're 18?"
"Yep"
"So where are we going?"
"North Wing. That's where our bedroom is. There's a common room there, too. It's got a pool table and TV and stuff. You'll probably make friends in there, there's loads of sports players in North Wing."
"I hate sports, and sporty people" now it was PJ's turn to grumble
They carried on through the grand corridors of the manor house for what seemed to PJ like forever, he was still carrying his battered brown trunk, decorated with Pokemon and Mario Cart stickers, his arm felt as if it were about to drop off.
Eventually Chris halted in front of a broad, winding wooden staircase, covered with a worn red carpet.
"This is North Wing. Follow me." Chris started up the stairs.
At the top, they were greeted by another lengthy corridor. Voices boomed from the open door at the very end, the noise bouncing off the honeydew walls and dark wooden floor.
"That's the common room, there" Chris pointed to the door "there's a small kitchen in there where you can keep some food. I wouldn't advise it, though. Most of the boys here are greedy bastards."
PJ nodded "where's our room?"
Chris led PJ to the last door on the left, opposite the common room and unlocked it with a key. He glanced behind him, checking none of the boys in the common room had seen him and this new kid. They were gathered around the pool table, most with their backs turned. Thank God.
Chris hastily opened the door, held it for PJ before stepping in too and shutting it behind him.
