Chapter Text
To say I was a disappointment would be an understatement. A big one. Even as a child, I remembered my father shaking his head, his eyes clouded with shame, and of course; disappointment. I don’t know how my parents married. I think they told me once, but I can’t remember. All I can recall is that his father knew hers, and I guessed things happened under the table, like a cheated deck of cards. She was young, and he was a politician in need of money. They’re always politicians, aren’t they?
Call it a school or a mansion, I’d call it a castle. Athen’s private highschool was enormous, triple the size of my last school.
The school looked like an old temple, a Greek one even. She was surrounded by columns, supporting a triangular roof. I spotted a sort of corridor made by even more columns, connecting two other wings to the main building. One alone could host at least a thousand students.
I scoffed, realizing Athens was filled with rich kids. Actors’ one night stand, politicians’ neglected offspring, the school was full of it.
White, spoiled rich teens, I sighed.
The main entrance was tall like a bus, I could glance inside and see the buzzing activity of students, either running for their next class or hanging out on couches and tables.
I stepped in, dragging my suitcase full of clothes and other things behind me.
Because of course , the school was in the middle of nowhere and needed dorms.
Well at least, I wouldn’t have to see my father every day, a thorn out of my foot.
I slithered through the crowd of teenagers, headed for the administration, or at least what I thought was the administration anyway.
A few curious eyes landed on me. Normally, nothing was exciting about a new student.
Except it wasn’t “normally” for me. Let me make a list of the few things that made me stand out:
Firstly, I wasn’t wearing the school’s uniform, an ugly marine sweater with dark grey pants stiffs like cardboard. I grimaced the first time I saw the tie, and I would again every time my eyes fell on one, dangling from throats, looking too tight to possibly breathe. I was a stain of white in an ocean of dark colors.
Secondly, I wasn’t a total white stain. I realized with no much surprise; the school was nearly all white, from what I could see. It made me stand out, me and my dark skin, heritage from my mother’s side. My last school was much more ethnically diverse. I knew that would mean having my face everywhere on the school’s website. Nobody could resist a seemingly diverse and accepting school.
Last but not least, we were in October, the fifth to be precise. That meant everybody was already settled in a boring routine and groups were already formed. Everybody but me , I thought, finally in front of the administration’s door.
The stares fade away as I push the door, a nervous tightness in my chest.
A young woman is sitting behind a dark desk in a less than gracious manner, sinking in her chair, her legs up on the desk. She’s wearing wireless earphones, her computer open, a book in her hands.
She tilts her head back and forth, probably to the beat of the music, her feet following the rhythm. I stand in the small office, letting my gaze pass over the bookshelves, a few trophies reflecting gold against the dim light. I noticed the floor was made of dark planks of wood, recently polished. The entire office contrasted with the white of the corridors, visible through a window next to the door.
The woman seems to finally notice me when she takes out her earphones and offers me a kind smile. She put her book down, inviting to sit in an old chair, where at least a full generation of students sat.
She puts her feet down, adopting a more professional pose. Her dark hair set back on her shoulders, tamed and wavy. She’s pretty , I thought
“Hi! I’m Iphigenia, how can I help you?”, she says with a lovely singsong tone, her brown eyes shining.
I couldn’t help myself and smiled back, her energy soothing my bad mood.
“I’m the transfer student, Patroclus,” I said back. I did not offer my hand, one thing I learned from my father. My father says a man who opens his hands, opens his wallet to any passing beggar. He shook hands only with men of high prestige, then he would gladly open his wallet.
She didn’t seem to mind and pulled her laptop closer, squinting at the screen and typing a few words.
“Ah, yes! Patroclus Menoitiades,” she bit her lips at the mouthful. She had said it alright, if not butchering a bit of my name, rushing the consonants together, and mispronounced the syllables. I didn’t hold it against her.
Iphigenia looked at me, then her computer. Her gaze fell on me again, a frown in her brows.
“You sure you’re Patroclus? I really didn’t picture you like this,” she said. I nodded.
“You know, because of what happened at your last school,” I tensed, and she smiled, kindly,
“Don’t worry, I don’t judge others for something that happened in the past. Also, your secret is safe with me,” she added, mimicking a zipper over her mouth.
In less than two minutes, this woman, a stranger, had shown me more kindness than my father or anyone ever did. My heart swelled with hope and affection.
“As you may know, you’ll share a dorm. You’ll have a room mate,” she says, clicking her tongue. Not roommate, but room mate. It annoyed me, but in a good way. Iphigenia continues, “You’re a junior so you’ll be on the third floor. Room 30. You won’t start classes until tomorrow.”
She offered her help, and I politely declined. I knew I could do it myself.
Nia - she told me to call her that-, gave me a magnetic card and wished me good luck, putting her earphones back on.
As I raised from the chair, an uncomfortable feeling crept up my spine, making the hair on my neck lift. I felt watched, observed.
I jerked my head towards the window but didn’t see anything other than pale hair, quickly disappearing behind the wall.
I shrugged, probably some curious kid. Nia handed me a paper with more information, then I left, waving her goodbye.
She waved back.
I smiled, my chest was less heavy than it was before. I felt like a roaring river. Like I could overcome any obstacles.
That's how I felt, until the bell rang.
The doors slammed on the walls, lockers opened and banged against each other, everybody was talking, discord and chaos, a familiar cacophony.
I tried to make my way through the current of students, with my big suitcase, my backpack, and absolutely no idea of where I was going.
I saw a staircase, relatively empty albeit a small group of students chatting.
There was a sign next to it; Dorms.
With a smirk of victory, I made my way to the staircase, feeling multiple pairs of eyes on my face.
I stepped in front of the staircase and mentally sighed, the students were blocking the way.
I could tell they were popular and older than me, maybe seniors. A girl and two boys. If my old school had taught me anything, is that you can’t ask popular kids to move out of the way.
I was a junior, a new student, and by definition; weird.
One of the boy’s eyes fell on my face and he smiled like a shark.
“Where you goin’?,” he asked, his gaze roaming all over me without shame. Analyzing or appreciative, I couldn’t tell. His eyes were light brown, almost yellow, contrasting with his thin black beard. His broad arms were crossed on his knees but parted when he straightened
I swallowed, this guy was definitely a bully, and I was an easy target. Maybe if I just walked away, he would let me go?
I could always find a new way, this school was enormous, after all.
No , I shook my head. I won’t myself be stepped on, not again.
“Well, I’m trying to go up the stairs right now,” I answered, a simple truth.
His chest raised with a dry laugh, his other friends catching on with curious eyes.
“Well, I’m sittin’ on ‘em,” he replied with a proud smug on his features. Teasing, but no more.
A thinner boy with malicious eyes and an amused smile put his hand on the bully’s shoulder, pulling him back against the stairs.
“Come now, Diomedes. Can’t you see he’s new, leave him alone, ‘eh?,” he added, a firm look on his eyes.
The girl nodded in agreement, although she had found the scene funny.
“Excuse him, he’s too cheeky for his own good. You’re new here? I’m Penelope, this is Odysseus,” she pointed at my savior with her chin. I noticed their hands, fingers intertwined with softness and ease. She did not introduce the second one, she knew his name would stay in my mind
I didn’t say mine, and they didn’t ask.
Diomedes scoffed, shoving Odysseus’ hand away. He smiled at me, kindly this time. Penelope rose, soon followed by Odysseus and Diomedes.
They aren’t terrible , I thought. Maybe this school wasn’t so bad.
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The junior’s corridor was long, extending far away. The floor was carpeted, the walls painted white with brown metal doors Luckily, my room was one of the first, and it didn’t take me long to find it.
A bronze number: 30.
With apprehension, I swiped my card down, holding my breath.
A green light beeped, I let go of my breath, a sigh of relief.
It worked.
Of course, it worked, why wouldn’t it work? This isn’t a shitty hotel, but a multi-millionaire school sponsored by a ton of rich people.
I sighed once again, banging my head against the door.
I pushed the door, happy to know it didn’t squeal or creaked when opened.
I stepped into a dark room, the blind was down, letting only a fine threat of light pass by the edges. My feet stumbled into something while I was patting the wall in search of a light switch.
I looked down and groaned; a guitar.
Great, a musician, I thought bitterly, already feeling the restless nights when my roommate would play.
I seized the instrument, setting it against the wall, and finally found the switch with a laugh of triumph, closing the door behind me.
The room was a mess. Clothes, everywhere, books, papers.
The furniture consisted of two small pantries, suspended shelves, and two desks next to two large beds, one of them disentangled, the sheets pulled in every way, the other tidy, even though covered with books. The room was perfectly split in two.
I groaned and transferred all the books on my bed to his. I knew it was a guy; the school's policy.
I was a bit nervous about sharing a room with another guy, especially knowing I couldn’t avoid his presence when I would want to be alone.
Talking about him, he wasn’t there.
Duh, he has classes.
I wished I knew his name. How would he look? Not too hot I hope, I won’t be able to sleep , I humored myself, unpacking my things.
I picked up everything that was on the ground, either putting it on the desk or the bed.
Would he be mad at me? Surely, but he deserved it. We now shared this room, and he would deal with it.
I noticed a side door and smiled in relief when I realized it was a bathroom.
It was small, with a toilet and a shower without a bathtub. The counter had a few bottles on it, shampoo, soaps, and an empty can of beer. I ran my hand through my dark hair, breathing out. This wasn’t going to be easy.
A sign on the shower drew my attention.
1 hour of hot water is available in the morning and another in the afternoon.
We suggest 30min per person.
After 1h, the shower’s water will cut.
In case of any problem, call the administration.
My thought went back to Nia with a soft smile on my lips.
Lower, handwriting;
I do what I want, it read. I groaned in exasperation.
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It was dark outside, around ten. I was laying on my bed in the dark, trying to memorize my schedule, where each class was, and what book to bring. I was worried, my roommate hadn’t returned yet and I knew the curfew was at nine.
Comically on time, I heard footsteps outside the door.
I heard the lock click, and he pushed the door, stumbling in the dark.
I heard him groan, reaching for the light switch. I hid my face in my pillow, fainting to be asleep. Maybe was he kind enough to let me sleep, despite his anger?
I saw the light through my eyelids.
“What the hell?,” he said, probably upon a realization; he wasn’t alone anymore.
His voice was deep, angry. I heard him fidgeting in his pockets, looking for something. I recognized the unmistakable click of a phone. After a few seconds, he groaned in frustration.
“Dad, a bit too late to warn me,” he groaned, not really caring that he might wake me up.
I tried to stay still, but I couldn’t help myself and slightly opened an eye, hoping to at least see his face.
But his back was facing me, and all I saw was a strong and tall frame. I saw the pale skin of his hands, running through his curly fiery hair. They were standing on their own, perfectly cut, maybe even soft.
He suddenly turned back to me, and I closed my eyes again.
“At least he doesn’t look like a total creep,” I heard him mumble to himself.
He sounded more calm, past the shock and anger.
His voice was like a sweet melody, spitting harsh words. A poisonous lullaby, if I could even describe it with the few words I had heard.
I heard clothes shifting falling on the floor. I kept my eyes closed, for his privacy as well as my well being.
He closed the lights and I heard him push the papers on the ground as he slipped into his bed.
I held back a grunt of frustration, this was going to be a long year.