Awoken - chapter one

Chapter ten

Ten

I slammed the car door behind me, threw my bags on the passenger seat and buckled my seat belt. As soon as I turned the key in the ignition, deafening music blasted out from the speakers. Fumbling frantically, I managed to turn it off. My radio was somewhat temperamental; it had a mind of its own but at that precise moment I had more to worry about then my dodgy radio. The light drizzle outside was quickly building up into a full on rainstorm and I only had one windscreen wiper that worked. Thankfully it was on the driver's side. I made it home and pulled into the cobbled drive, reached over for my bags....what was missing? Damn it, my camera!' I must have left it behind. One windscreen wiper or not, I had to head back to college and get it.

As I pulled up to the college gates under the cover of the now black night sky, I could just about see that the car park was almost deserted. Only three cars remained. I pulled up as close to the school as possible. I didn't condone parking in a disabled spot but there were seven others available and the idea of parking any further away in the unlit carpark terrified me. I took the wide stone steps quickly and two at a time, aiming to leave the black night and the eerie silence behind me. I walked through the twenty-foot high Romanesque pillar entrance and towards the empty receptionist's desk. There was something eerie about seeing a familiar place in darkness and out of context.

The large, granite, marble desk felt out of place. It was surrounded by 19th century animated cherub mouldings positioned high on the walls in each corner of the room. The hefty and hideously dark-wood framed oil paintings of past headmasters lined the walls, each one seeming just as aged as the last. Usually planted behind the desk was a minuscule framed woman named Judith. Her presence was austere and she came across as painfully timid. Without her glaring stare, my eyes were drawn to the portrait on the wall above her chair, which was about five times bigger than her. Sitting on an enormous, deep red, stilted chair was a mature and podgy gentleman with short, greying hair and piercing cobalt eyes. Standing behind him was a young, lofty and sinewy man with combed back, jet black hair and deep brown eyes. His wiry hand rested on the older man's shoulder and he had a slightly angry look about him. Claynor Ray's founders appeared as complete opposites. As I circled round the desk and advanced up a step towards the Great hall entrance, I felt their eyes grinding down into me, following my every movement.

'It's a bit late for you isn't it?' His booming voice made me jump. My heart skipped a cautionary beat, causing all the fine hairs on my arms to prickle up. The six foot five security guard towered above me. With his arms as big as boulders and his body-builder like stature, only one word leapt to my mind - STEROIDS! I fumbled nervously in my bag for my ID and found it burrowed away in the bottom corner but in my haste to pull it out, I failed to notice the Tampax packet wrapped around the end of my ID chain. No matter how bloody discreet the adverts claim they are, it was still blatantly obvious what it was. As the blood that coursed through my body rushed rapidly to my brain, I flushed a bright crimson cherry colour; I was officially mortified. The Tampax had swung loose and dropped to the floor. I bent down to retrieve it and I could feel his eyes burning into the back of my head. I stood up desperately trying to not make eye contact with him.

'I've left my camera in class 102, it's really expensive and my Mum will murder me if I lose it. Could you maybe unlock the door for me? I'll be literally two minutes.' He stared at me intently. I was desperately hoping my angel face would sway him. 'In and out, I promise!' I added solemnly. He suddenly didn't seem as scary as I'd first assumed. I think the Tampax incident, plus my obvious mortification, may have helped a little.

'Okay, just this once. Come with me and we'll get the keys.' I followed him as he led the way to the art department. Each corridor looked the same; dreary, peeling, magnolia walls with posters for student president elections plastered on them. If I were on my own, it would have only been too easy to get lost.