Letting Reality Begin

Chapter Four - Bull x Thirteen Thousand

“Welcome to Form 13K. Or rather Form Thirteen Thousand – as everyone calls it, since ‘K’ stands for a thousand. As you probably already knew,” said Mr Harrow, in a clear English accent, shaking Jamie’s hand with more enthusiasm than necessary. Jamie’s new form tutor was a tall, blonde man who seemed pretty young. Well, pretty young in teacher standards anyway – Mr Harrow was probably no older than his early thirties. “It’s a pleasure you meet you, Jamie.”

“Straight back at ‘cha, Sir,” replied Jamie, putting on his best smile, sort of impressed by how quickly Mr Harrow could speak. Then he remembered – as his dad had reminded him only minutes before – he wasn’t in America anymore. This school wasn’t like his old one. Embarrassed, he gave a small cough and said, “I mean, it’s a pleasure you meet you too.”

Mr Harrow finally let go of his hand – which was aching slightly now – and smiled warmly. “Don’t worry. We’re not all posh around here,” he assured Jamie, comfortingly. Jamie couldn’t help raising an eyebrow at that. Well, from the small handful of students he’d seen here so far, the majority of them seemed like stuck-up cows. Although, admittedly, he could say the same about himself. Seeing Jamie’s expression, Mr Harrow hesitantly added, “Well... sort of anyway. Since you were the first one to grace me with your presence, you can take your pick of seat.”

Jamie glanced around the spacious room. To be fair, it wasn’t really that much different to classrooms at his old school although it was clear that it was designed for a lot fewer students. His old school had almost two thousand students, whereas Heather Franklin only had eight hundred and seventy students in the main school – which consisted of twelve to sixteen year olds – and about one hundred in the sixth form.

The room was painted a light orange, which Jamie thought would’ve made the room look weird, but somehow it fitted. There were neat display and honour boards lining the walls. At the front, right above the projector screen, was a large photograph of a class of pupils – all looking stunningly good with their crisp uniforms and picture-perfect smiles – which Jamie guessed were the rest of Mr Harrow’s form.

Jamie sat himself down in a seat in the middle. Suddenly the classroom door burst open and a girl walked in, followed by a slightly sullen looking book. Jamie let out a sigh. Not more stuck-up cows. “Hi, Sir!” the girl chimed brightly, a Welsh accent lining her voice. She was seemingly delighted at the sight of her form tutor. She didn’t seem very stuck-up, Jamie had to admit. In fact, she looked quite... nice. She was certainly extremely beautiful with long, russet curls framing her almost perfect face.

It was sort of weird seeing a girl walk into a classroom. Having attended all-boys schools nearly all of his life; he hadn’t had a class with a girl since he was nine. Not only was seeing girls in the school weird, but so was seeing tiny sixth graders – or Year Sevens as they were called around here – scattered around the place. In America, he would be a senior in High School and therefore not have to deal with many people much younger him. He was slightly awkward around younger kids, despite having a younger sister.

“Welcome back, Miss Deverall,” said Mr Harrow, giving a welcoming nod to the girl. She was lucky she didn’t have to go through the killer handshake process. Mr Harrow glanced at the boy behind her with mock shock. “Is that... Callum Aston I see with you? Early for once?”

The boy named Callum Aston shrugged nonchalantly, keeping his gaze fixed on the girl. She grinned angelically as Mr Harrow said, “Well you must be a good influence on him.”

The girl pretended to huff slightly at her form tutor’s comment. “Well, of course I am!” said the girl, trying to resist the smile that was tugging at the corner of her mouth. “That’s what best mates are for.”