The Boarding School

The Choice

Damien Lucas

"Yo, Dami'n!" a voice called from outside, "Get out here!"

A fully dressed twenty-five year old young man lounged on the old, thread-bear couch; the sort with the ugly pattern, one that's been in the family for years, maybe generations. His head rested on one side, his boot clad feet on the other. Groaning, he slid his feet onto the floor and sat up, rubbing his face with his hands and pushing his long curly hair out of his eyes. "I've got to get a hair cut," he muttered, pulling one curl it's full length then letting it slip through is fingers.

Eight years ago he never would have dreamed of sleeping with jeans on. The discomfort alone would keep him up. Now, he couldn't remember the last time he slept in pajamas. He looked at his shirt and sniffed. Groaning again, muttered, "and a shower."

"DAMIEN!" the voice shouted louder.

"Damn it!" Damien exclaimed, grabbing his jacket and slamming it against the couch irritably before taking it with him outside. "What?!" he demanded from the falling apart porch.

"Ride's here," Aiden pointed at the black pickup truck in the yard.

Damien trotted down the stairs, putting on his jacket, "You coming?"

"Yeah, just a minute. Gotta load these boxes," he replied, looking at the half a dozen plastic boxes full of wires and computer gear around him.

Damien grabbed two and put them into the truck and came back and grabbed another. "You grab the other three." Aiden did and climbed into the cab. He was smaller than Damien, so he squeezed into the middle. Damien zoned the driver and his friend out, leaning his head against the window and watching the passing scenery.

Aiden was a hot headed young man with ragged sandy-blonde hair, clear blue eyes, and a short nose, little eyes, and a round head. "Enjolras," he murmured out loud.

"What's that?" Aiden stopped mid-sentence from his passionate discussion with the driver and turned to Damien.

"Nothing," Damien shook his head and shifted his body to a more comfortable position. Aiden turned back to his conversation. Enjolras was who his personality resembled. He was an anonymous hacker before the resistance. Did some time, too. But regardless, he was his best friend and Damien spent as much time regretting it as he did appreciating it. Whatever his flaws, he was loyal to his friends and vicious to anyone against them and Damien owed him his freedom a time or two; a debt that was paid on multiple occasions.

About three hours later, the truck pulled up to an abandoned building. "There she is," Aiden remarked proudly pushing at Damien impatiently to climb out.

"She's falling apart," Damien replied flatly, "I'm not sure if the floors will hold us." He stood with his arms folded outside the truck.

"They will," Aiden assured him jumping to the ground beside him, irritated that his best friend didn't share his enthusiasm, "Dante and some of the boys already have a headquarters set up. We'll get our own room, though."

"That's nice," Damien perked up.

"And guess what," Aiden leaned in, "There's showers. You smell like you need one."

"So do you," Damien shoved Aiden good naturedly.

"Let's get this stuff inside," Aiden clapped his hands and practically galloped to the back of the truck. Damien followed along with the driver. The three of them made one trip, each carrying two boxes. "Only two more to go," Aiden heaved after two flights of stairs.

"Sure you can make it?"

"You bet!"

On the fourth floor, Aiden took them down the hall to a middle door with a shiny new lock. After some juggling of the boxes, he took out the key and unlocked the door to reveal a room with tables and book cases.