Starry Eyed

Chapter One

Chapter One

Goodbye to the ladybug car.

I watched my mother pull away from the parking lot of Huntley Academy, feeling that bittersweet sensation of change in the pit of my stomach on the cusp of the afternoon. My new dormitory, in all its mediocre, wood-and-polish glory, smelt so strongly of cleaning products that I was already feeling a bit woozy. But the locks on the window didn't allow me to open it wide enough to make any difference. Besides, the rain would get in. However pointless the action was from this distance, I waved to her as she finally drove out onto the highway and around the bend. Far, far away from here.

"Hey. Luca Jones?"

I whipped around. A tall, stocky brunette leaned against the door frame. Frowning, as if he was thinking very hard.

"You're James?" I asked, raising my eyebrows. All I had known of him before today was his name, thanks to the information booklet I'd received over the summer, and if this was him, he was nothing like the geeky guy I had conjured up in my mind. More like the sort of guy who would be prom king, basketball team captain, high school superstar. I almost rolled my eyes.

"That's me." James tugged his suitcase into the dorm, dumping it effortlessly onto the other bed like it was weightless. "Jesus. The room isn't much, is it?"

"Fucking reeks."

"Yep." He unzipped the suitcase and began to discard its contents across the bed with no clear rhyme or reason. No further comment from him.

"So what are you here to study?" I asked, hoping to make conversation. Praying that James could prove himself to be some actual prodigy like he was supposed to be. When he was standing there, all cocky and proud, it was hard to believe. Even so, there had to be something special about him. Huntley Academy didn't take just anybody.

"Oh, you know. I'm a man of all walks of life." 

Confused, I tried again. "Yeah, but like... what's your subject?"

"Maths genius," he said modestly. "Calculus, algebra, statistics, all that shit. I can't be bested."

He was a show-off, but probably within reason. It made me feel a little better knowing I wasn't roomed with a total airhead. I nodded and hummed a note of understanding, and then we fell into another immediate, uncomfortable lull in conversation. It seemed like he'd ask me about my subject, but no such luck. I decided I'd bring it up myself.

"I'm here to write."

James swept up an armful of heavy-looking textbooks out of his suitcase, dropping them to the floor. The carpet didn't silence them much, and they sounded a dull thud as they fell. Message received; he was a maths genius, yes, but he really, really needed me to know it. 

"I'm into English big time," I carried on. "Analysing media and stuff. Especially classic literature, and film. I was big into 'To Kill A Mockingbird' and all that a few years back, but now I'm into action movies and shit too - learning about camera techniques, soundtracking -"

"Uh, yeah, that's great and all," James cut me off. "But I didn't actually ask."

"Oh. Sorry."

I walked over to my own bed, feeling embarrassed, and mirrored his actions. That had been an abrupt end to a conversation I thought had been going not too terribly. He could just be in a bad mood, but he certainly hadn't made the best first impression. Nor had I on him, clearly, though I wasn't sure why. I tugged at the zipper of my own suitcase. At first, it didn't give, and so I pulled again, a little more harshly; a fool's mistake. A volcano of clothes, socks, books and stationary erupted from inside. I winced and hastily grabbed my things, including the boxers that had soared over onto James' duvet. He laughed.