Morrie and Naven

One

June of every year, classes at the Knightsbury School starts. Now, one might ask, "What is the Knightsbury school?"  The Knightsbury School of Music and the Arts was the most prestigious music and arts school. Sure, there are other schools which were just as prestigious, but Knightsbury treasures their actors just as much as they treasure their musicians. The Knightsbury breeds the finest musicians, the most versatile actors, the pop stars with the most powerful vocals, the best dancers, and even the songwriters who can bring out even the littlest of emotions from a stone. Every student did not hold anything against the other. They understood perfectly that their genres and talents differ, and they respected that. So to showcase each department's talents, the school hold recitals (not really, it was more of music festival rather than recital) every month; but sometimes, if the instructors feel like it, they let their students perform their weakest point. And students don't mind it, not even a bit. In fact, they consider it as "a new experience," and, "a room for possible interest."

It was a school that appreciates all forms of art.

It may seem harmonious, but there was that one, tiny problem. The Knightsbury School of Music and the Arts was unfortunately situated next to St. George Finishing Institute for Young Men.  It was that type of snooty boarding school whose students think so highly of themselves. Typical rich kids, really. Students of St. George and students of Knightsbury already has this bad blood between them decades and decades ago; in which St. George Boys would usually leave Knightsbury artists alone, but there were those times when St. George decides to... spice things up a bit.

In the middle of the night, climbing over the high brick wall that separates the two schools, the boys from St. George would cross the football and lacrosse fields and run around spraying paint on the grass; they would enter dance studios to write mean (stupid, actually) things on the floor-to-ceiling mirrors. Some of them would creep into the main music hall and tamper on the instruments. But worst of all, they save their best prank for the theatre department. St. George would mess with the sets and even costumes for theatre productions.

In the morning, when students enter Knightsbury gates, St. George Boys will be laughing at their handiwork, thinking of the possible reactions from the students next door, over breakfast in their dining hall. And while they do so, the Knightsbury students will be staring in shock at their respective departments. A ballerina from the dance department broke down after seeing that someone had destroyed her pointe shoes. But as much as Knightsbury students want to intercept St. George and stop them from their pranks, St. George attacks without warning. They attack any day of the week, any week of the month, any month of the year... Nobody really knew when they will "play" again.

No one could really answer, either, why St. George Boys liked—loved— bullying the Knightsbury theatre department. All they know is that it has been going on for decades that it has become tradition.

And that July morning, the junior theatre representative, Morgen "Morrie" Salvacion, stared at one of the dressing rooms wide-eyed. The wigs were "de-haired;" the makeups were scraped off their containers and powdered to dust; and the scripts! Oh, the scripts were drenched in an unknown brown liquid! And she knew there could only have been one culprit! Or, perhaps, culprits.

Morrie's hazel eyes narrowed, her pink lips curved to a snarl, her right eye twitched, and her hands fisted what was left of the costume the sophomores had sown. Perhaps, after all these years, it was time to get back to St. George and make their rich asses pay.

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Dedicated to Alexchenson for making the amazing cover.