"I really am sorry, lads"
"Don't worry about it, Kevin"
"Really. Is there anything I can do? Anything that will make you feel you can forgive me?"
"Uh, you can go and get me the first aid kit from McCartney's office."
"Of course! Of course!" Kevin hurried out of the bathroom door.
PJ was sat in one of the wash basins, his battered arms and forehead being tended to by Chris and Richard, the first boy who had stood up to Mark. Fortunately, PJ's hands had prevented any damage to his eyes and nose, however the wounds on his arms were considerably deep. Chris was worried he might need stitches. But what were they to say to matron? What excuse could they use that wouldn't get anyone in to trouble? That was one of the rules at Dark Wood: you never told, no matter what.
PJ appeared a little dazed, Chris presumed it was just shock and that he'd be fine soon.
Kevin returned with the small green box and he, Chris and Richard began winding bandages around PJ's arms. PJ whimpered a little as the soft white gauze touched his tender skin.
When they had finished, Chris and Richard pulled PJ to his feet, he was slightly shaky but was able to walk.
The group made their way back towards room 164 with two of the rugby boys, Henry and Taylor, marching several paces ahead. They halted as they reached the door, offering each other confused expressions.
"What's wrong?" Richard asked
"There are people in there" said Henry
"Who? Mark?"
"No. Mr McCartney and... A voice I don't recognise"
"You guys better go" said PJ "we'll sort this out. We'll go in there and say that Chris was ordered to take me back here by matron because I felt sick. You guys can't get caught here during lessons."
"Good idea" Henry nodded before turning away and heading towards the stairs leading out of North Wing, followed by the rest of the rugby players.
The two stepped closer to the door. Henry was right, there were people there. Definitely Mr McCartney and another voice. A younger, crisper, clearer and, as far as they could hear, more eloquent voice.
Chris turned the handle slowly, pushing the heavy oak door with his right arm. He only managed to open it a couple of inches before it knocked against something hard. Chris pushed harder, but the door wouldn't budge. He grunted, slamming his skinny body against the door, managing to open it another couple of inches. He was about to try again when the younger voice shouted.
"Watch it! That's my suitcase you're hitting!" Whatever was blocking the door was removed and the two boys wandered into the room to find a third bed between theirs. "This is brand new! If you've damaged it I shall make you pay for a new one!"
PJ glanced around the room. He wasn't sure if he was hallucinating as a result of being knocked on the head, but he was almost completely certain that a third bed had been placed between his and Chris'. He looked down, there was a boy on the floor slightly to his right. The boy knelt beside a semi-unpacked brown leather case with a name embroidered on the side. PJ squinted, trying to focus his eyes without his glasses, which he presumed had been broken by the rugby boys. "Sebastian Pritchard" it said. PJ focused on the boy who he assumed was Sebastian Pritchard. His dirty blonde hair was slicked back with so much gel it looked as if it were wet, his chubby face appeared to be almost permanently crinkled, he looked as if he was smelling something disgusting. The buttons on Sebastian Pritchard's fitted black school blazer looked as if they could pop off any second, giving way to the larger boy's chest and gut. PJ noticed that the freshly ironed white shirt beneath the blazer had "S.P" embroidered on the collar in the same colour as his blazer and trousers. PJ also noticed that fitted clothing did not compliment Sebastian Pritchard's body shape at all, in fact it made his legs look like huge burnt sausages with shiny shoes on the end.
"And who the fuck are you supposed to be?" Chris glared down at him.
He stoop up, straightened his blazer and sniffed "I am Sebastian Pritchard. I shall be your new roommate"
