Honey Guy- Marked

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

I picked up the handle of my suitcase and glanced at the time. At least I wasn’t freakishly on time to the mille second. That’s what normally happened if you were going to some posh school out in the middle of nowhere. I was a minute or two early which gave me time to look at my new school- home.

The leaves crunched beneath the suitcase as I rolled it towards the reception. The air was chilly and just warm enough not to be cold but cold enough not to be warm in the September wind.

I dragged my suitcase up to the main reception, pulling my sleeve over my hand. The door opened before my hand could touch the handle, and a woman strode out, holding her hands out, a smile on her face.

I smiled back automatically; it seemed instinctive- natural, as if to help me survive. OK, I had to get this psychology out of my head (I had done psychology for GCSE and I had still not gotten over the test)

“Welcome to Castle-House manor Institution” jeez what she welcomed, smiling with her teeth. “We don’t want to waste any time, and so you will go straight to your first lesson, your suitcase will be taken to your room and I will take you to   the English floor” as she was talking, a man walked out, taking my suitcase and strolling off. The woman smiled and handed me my timetable with a booklet about the school.

She smiled again “let’s get going then shall we?” she said, almost impatiently. She turned again, starting to stride towards the main school building. It gave me time to take in her features; she had bright blonde, curly hair and pale, white skin. She was tall, nearly a head taller than me and wore bright red lipstick. Her hair bounced when she walked, she took big steps, her heels almost smashing the ground like an impatient stomp. I followed, glancing back at the person who had taken my suitcase, and after a second the woman turned back to me to me.

“Oh! Pardon me! My name is Mrs. McMillan, I’m the school receptionist” she said, slowing down a bit so that I could catch up to her.

”Honey Guy” I replied.

“Of course!” Mrs. McMillan said, she seemed to talk in exclamation marks. She opened the front door, swinging it open with her foot as she strode past. I gawped at the inside. The corridors were huge, the ceilings high with large windows on the walls. The displays were being glassed cases; the posters were actual posters, not A4 posters stuck together. The floor was polished and wooden, it appeared as if I had entered another century.

Mrs. McMillan stopped suddenly. “I hope you enjoy your time in our humble school, we don’t get many new students here!” she exclaimed “there have, of course, been some scholarship students but they starts from year 7” she explained before I could say anything.

I nodded once again, my insides suddenly melting. Starting new isn’t the best experience. I had grown used to the students in my class and we had been friendly.

“Your teacher will assign you a buddy who can look after you for the next couple of days” Mrs., McMillan continued “if you have any questions about your room, don’t hesitate in informing me, or your head of year” she smiled one last time before turning around, and marching away. I stared at the door in front of me.