The Boarding School

Juvenile Camp

Thomas Ponde

Thomas burst out laughing. It died in his throat when no one else laughed. "Heh," he grinned, "you're joking." They frowned. He shook his head, "No. No, no, no... that's... no."

"Pack your things, Ponde, you're scheduled to arrive tonight and the lieutenant doesn't abide to lateness."

"No," Thomas stood and backed away, "No. I'm staying here. I belong here. I've - I've got my education. I can't leave."

"Thomas, you've failed all your classes," the principal told him.

"See," the young man nodded, pointing to the principal, "I have to take those classes again."

"There was a minimum GPA you were allowed to keep you out of prison and you failed that. You would be going to jail now if your sister hadn't arranged for you to be enrolled in a juvenile camp instead."

"I think I'd rather go to jail," Thomas replied taking another step to the door. The man from the juvenile camp took a step towards him and reached out to grab his arm when Thomas made a break for it. Thomas didn't expect to see the man only a few feet behind him when he began to slow down down the hall. He jumped with a scream and ran faster, but the man had already caught up and tackled him to the ground. "Let me go!" he shouted, struggling. The man pulled back his arm and the next thing Thomas knew was everything was black.

"Whoa!" Thomas bolted up in a strange bed. The sheets under him were grey and scratchy. His eyes were wide as he looked around him in horror. He was in some sort of barrack dormitory. He looked down at himself to find himself dressed in a dull grey shirt and khaki pants. "Someone - someone changed me?!" Thomas exclaimed in horror. A visual jumped into his head. One of the other boys who had been passively watching him smiled ruefully before walking out of the room leaving him alone with three other young men who seemed busy with their own business. 

They didn't so much as look at him while he stared at them. Five minutes of silence passed and Thomas was ready to speak up when the door open and a good dozen of other boys marched into the room. Each seemed to have a purpose. A few glanced his way, but nothing more. Thomas, however, stared at them wide-eyed. He sat on his bed waiting for some sort of direction to dawn on him when a man with the essence of authority stepped into the the room. Suddenly the room of meandering boys stood in attention; everyone except Thomas, who still sat on his bed. He look around before standing up, swaying back and forth with an unsure air. He really did appear stupid.

"Dismissed," the man announced. The boys turned and marched out. Thomas started to follow when the man shouted loudly, "Ponde, attention!" Thomas stopped and looked at him with a furrowed brow, like he had no idea what that meant.

"Stand in attention, you idiot," a scrawny, passing boy with yellow hair hissed.

"No talking!" the man shouted, walking up to Thomas himself. All the boys were gone now. "Thomas Alexander Ponde?"

"Yes?"

"Are you an idiot, Ponde?"

"No?"

"You don't sound sure."

"No."

"It's 'Sir, no, sir.'"

"Sir, no, sir."

"No, say it again."

"Sir, No, sir!" Thomas shouted confidently, before an utterly confused look returned to his face.

"That's what you say here when I talk to you. Now, let's try that again. Thomas Alexander Ponde?"

"Sir, Yes, sir!"

"My name is Lieutenant Murray and I'm in charge here. Through that door, last door down the hall," he was told, "that's the cafeteria. Go eat and report to my office. Ask one of the drill seargents where it is."