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Clouds blanketed over the town, doing little to shelter a high school and its residents from the raging summer heat and suffocatingly dense humidity that wrapped around everyone’s throats. The tall eucalyptus trees swayed with the breeze as it graced past, the southern wind being very much appreciated. The windows of a classroom were opened with the fans spinning, the calm humming mute in volume compared to the unsettled and loud students.
In the middle of the classroom sat a boy reading a book, half listening to the conversation between his friends. He had short sandy straight hair that stuck upwards to the ceiling, the humidity making it droop. His brown eyes remained transfixed on the page when his roll call and HSIE teacher walked in.
“YEAR TEN!”, Mr Alberto yelled.
The students go silent before scurrying to their seats, giggles and whispers being exchanged among themselves. The boy places his bookmark on the page he was reading before popping it away and turning his attention to his teacher, Mr Alberto.
Mr Alberto was a tall, intimidating man who was rumoured to have been a part of the SOCOMD, but no one could confirm, and he refused to confirm or deny it. He placed his worn brown leather bag on his desk along with his takeaway cup and with a deep sigh, Alberto turned to the wide white board behind his desk and wrote in black marker ink,
‘Preparing for year 10’.
He turned to his students, “You lot are now in year ten, nearly seniors. So, you need to start acting like it.”
More giggles were heard, along with some groans from his friends.
“However,” Mr Alberto started again, bringing everyone’s attention back to him, “before we get too into it, I’d like to introduce a new student. Sit tight while I go and get them”.
The moment he stepped out, discussions between the girls started about the new student while the boys went to back to talking about the upcoming cricket game. The boy grabs out his book again.
“So, Marcel?”, Marcel looks away from his book and his attention goes to his friend, Jack. A tall lean boy with messy brown hair that swept to the side of his face.
“Yeah?”
“Ya heading to the next game?”
“Nah, can’t”, he goes back to reading his book.
“Eh, why?” Jack adjusts his seat from the desk in front of Marcel, sitting so he’s facing his friend.
“I got banned, remember?”
“Oh yeah!”
A beat of silence passes before Jack’s face drops, “why though?”
“Levi vandalised a book I borrowed. So as punishment, I’m banned for the next few games.”
“Well, that’s shitty.”
Marcel hums in agreement.
“Didn’t you say anything?”
Marcel closed his book again, putting it away in his bag. He releases a sigh, “Considering those animals get themselves into shit all the time and I’m associated with them and none of them admitted to it, I got the short end the stick.”
“Damn.”
“Yep.”
Their teacher than walks back in. Jack switches back to facing the front and everyone goes silent, apart from a few whispers. Mr Alberto stands by his desk as he gestures for the person to step into the classroom. A short, scrawny boy walks in.
Standing in the front of the classroom was a boy with bright bronze hair, fidgeting with the helm of his maroon jumper, his eyes were hidden by his long curls. He looked like he was probably the same height as most of the girls in their year, maybe even shorter. He looked as though he never stepped outside like a vampire, and he looked like the wind could carry him away.
“This is Newt Barlowe,” Mr Alberto spoke before turning towards him, “There’s a spare seat next to Marcel you can take.” A few girls whined and some of the boys, Jack included, snickered lightly. Marcel just rolled his eyes at his friend and the others.
As Newt walked down the rows of wooden tables to his desk, murmurs started again with some of Marcel's classmates greeting the boy. Some said ‘hi’ or ‘welcome’. Marcel just leaned on his right hand, scoffing lightly. He wasn’t looking forward to his and the other’s desk being crowded when an influx of classmates surrounded the new guy to introduce themselves.
He didn’t have long to dwell on it before Mr Alberto started speaking again. “As I was saying”, he said as he took his spot behind the dark oak desk in the front of the classroom, “you’ll all be expected to started behaving as seniors since in the next two years you’ll not only be seniors, but also role models for the juniors -”
Marcel tuned out his teacher as he slipped his phone from his front pocket into his hand, opening it to check his classes and pass time until the bell rings for first period. However, he found that his eyes kept drifting back to the Newt, who was fiddling with a small multi coloured cube under his desk. Marcel raised his brow. That’s a Rubix cube. Aren’t they supposed to be a bit noisy?
Marcel jumps as the ear scrapping sound of the bell rings. Jack laughs at his friend before ushering him to hurry up, already up and standing by the door. He grumbles as he swiftly puts his phone back in his pocket. Grabbing his backpack strap, he marches to the door to exist like the other students before Mr Alberto calls for him.
“Marcel, could you stay behind for a moment?”
“. . . Yes sir”, Marcel gesture for Jack to go ahead, promptly getting dragged away by Levi who mutters something about how stupid their teacher is.
Marcel turns back to Mr Alberto, brows knit together slightly.
“Now I know you have Mrs O’Neil, so I won’t waste much of your time. But I was wondering if you’d be able to show Newt to his first class”, he says as he gestures to the small boy just to right. He seems to shrink into himself as the two look at him.
Marcel brings his eyes back to his teacher.
“I can do, yeah”, Mr Alberto’s eyes squint upwards as he smiles.
“Thank you, Marcel, now run along. I’d rather not have Ms email me again about wasting precious learning time.”
“Cause sir.”
Mr Alberto sends Marcel and Newt off a back on the back as they step outside, closing the door behind him.
“So”, Marcel starts, “What class do you have now?”
He looks over at the other boy as he shuffles around, digging through his pockets before pulling a crisply folded piece of paper. Unfolding it he says in a soft voice, “Maths with . . . um . . . Mr Baugan?”
Marcels leans closer to grasp the piece of paper, turning it to him.
“Aw, lucky!”, he exclaims loudly, making Newt flinch. He backs back to where he was standing, muttering a quick sorry.
“You’ve got Mr Baughan.”, he continues, “He’s pretty chill, so not much to worry about.” He says softly, flashing a sly grin.
“Your class is right next to mine, so let’s get going before we’re late, yeah?”
All he gets in response is a shy nod.
“My name is Marcel Grey, by the way!”, he exclaims with his hand out.
“. . . Newt Barlowe”, he replies shyly, hesitantly extending his hand in reciprocation.