Chapter Text
'Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more
Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never sere,
I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude,
And with forc'd fingers rude
Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year.
Bitter constraint and sad occasion dear
Compels me to disturb your season due;'
~ Lycidas by John Milton
Chapter One - Welcome to Hellton
Kathleen Murray turned abruptly.
Deep, brassy notes reverberated through the crowd of startled parents. Hatless women turned, their permed hair barely shifting unlike Kat's own bouncy ponytail.
She smiled to herself as the familiar tune of Scotland the brave filled the cavernous chapel. It was easier to breathe in the midst of melodies from home, even if that home lay in the Scottish highlands thousands of miles away.
Unlike the village fêtes of her childhood, this procession appeared solemn. Lines of boys marched towards the mahogany pulpit where her grandfather, Mr Nolan, was situated. His piercing eyes examined the approaching unit, watching for the moment to begin the same speech that she remembered him making as a young girl.
'Tradition, Honour, Discipline, Excellence.'
Kathleen had already heard those four words several times since arriving in Vermont two days prior.
Her stomach tightened.
Maybe her father had been right in wanting her to return home to Scotland. Imagining herself travelling to another school as a sort of exchange student was one thing, actually being here was completely different. Now it all seemed quite real.
A seventeen year-old girl attending an all-boys school?
Unbelievable.
"Ladies and gentlemen, boys. The light of knowledge," Mr Nolan began.
Admittedly, she was under her grandfather's watchful eye. Three months would hardly make a scratch on her academic record...a non co-ed record. Growing up with two younger brothers, and with a few boys her own age in the village hadn't really prepared her for this.
She shrunk low in the corner of her back pew. Any minute now all eyes would be searching for her.
"One hundred years ago in 1859, forty-one boys sat in this room and were asked the same question that now greets you at the start of each semester. Gentlemen, what are the four pillars?"
A ripple of dark blazers arose like a wave, but unlike the sea their words were not whispers. "Tradition, honour, discipline, excellence," rang clear and rapid from the mouths of each student, all with the same straight face and posture.
The uniformity sent a shiver down her spine. Welton Academy had fascinated her as child with its maze of corridors, vast land, and classrooms full of books and knowledge. Now, it seemed stifling and miserable; not a single paying pupil looked happy to be here.
"In her first year," her grandfather's voice broke her out of her thoughts, "Welton Academy graduated five students. Last year we graduated fifty-one. And more than seventy five percent of those went on to the Ivy leagues."
Enthusiastic applause thundered like the wrath of God. It certainly did not take a brain like Sherlock Holmes' to perceive why the school was so renowned, especially among parents of a certain mindset.
"This kind of accomplishment," he continued, "is the result of fervent dedication to the principles taught here. This is why you parents are sending us your sons. This is why we are the best preparatory school in the United States."
Movement caught her eye. She watched as the parents in the pew to her right cajoled their almost fully-grown son. She tried desperately not to roll her eyes. Their son looked downright terrified by the speech but - oblivious to the poor boy's agitation - they just nudged him to applaud.
"As you know, our beloved Mr Porte's of the English department retired last term," he announced to the sobering crowd. "You will have the opportunity later to meet his replacement, Mr John Keating."
Mussed, brown hair came into view as a kindly looking man arose to face the curious onlookers. Crows feet ran faintly from the crinkles created by his smile. And, if she was not mistaken, they collapsed into a wink sent to a crying first year in the front pew before he disappeared down into his seat.
"Himself an honours graduate of this school," continued Nolan, "who for the past several years has been teaching at the highly regarded Chester School in London. Now, before we leave, I have one more matter to address."
Her hands shook as she smoothed her skirt, avoiding her grandfather's eyes.
"This semester we have a more...unconventional student attending the Academy. My granddaughter, Miss Murray, will be here until the new year when she will return to St. Mary's Academy for young ladies. I assure you that this will in no way affect the education of your sons. Her living quarters will be separate, and if there is any disruption to classes, they will also become separate immediately. We will meet this temporary change with grace, and use it as practice for the boys' good manners and chivalry. That is all."
Hundreds of heads turned, their eyes seeking her out, the girl breaking tradition.
Fortunately, she was well hidden and dressed in a similar fashion to many of the boys' sisters. Those unlucky girls would never be valued enough to be sent to schools of the same calibre as their brothers.
A woman draped in fox furs shot her a questioning look.
Kathleen nodded silently, sending a polite smile in the direction of the few couples nearby who regarded her with similar caution. In anticipation of their queries, she stood and quickly melted into the exiting crowd.
Outside was a hub of activity. A dizzying collage of sights and sounds covered the expansive grounds. Cars lined the driveway, piles of luggage littered the ground, while parents fussed, and young boys cried in their mother's arms. Older boys dominated the scene, their smiles wide as they slapped each other's backs in greeting.
Kathleen hovered outside of the door for a moment. Her grandfather was clearly busy, and nobody had told her what to do until dinner, or even where to sit. Now did not seem like the opportune moment to inquire.
With a sigh, she let the gravel crunch over her shiny heels as she rounded the corner of the building.
The stone arch marking the main entrance stood out from the rest of the aged stone. As she ascended the steps her thoughts turned to the timetable she had received at breakfast. The present moment was a golden opportunity to find her classrooms for tomorrow.
Inside it was much quieter. The odd teacher wondered by, seeking refuge from the onslaught of parents and their questions, no doubt. She found chemistry and Latin promptly, and spent a little more time finding her way to English. It was getting easier to find her bearings by the day.
Kathleen checked her watch, she still had a while before dinner. She turned down the next corridor and found herself in what must be the dorms.
Boys darted in and out of rooms, suitcases were abandoned in doorways, and the air was filled with chatter and boisterous laughter. It echoed her own experiences at boarding school so intensely, yet the underlying pulse was different, more supressed. If she was at St. Mary's like she was supposed to be, there would be shrieks, hugs and giggles before late nights talking about the summer with snacks and coca cola.
Homesickness stirred up inside of her, not just for her home in Scotland, but for her own school and friends. It would be days before she received any letters.
Kathleen weaved through the clusters of obstacles, briefly peering into rooms as she passed. Each was similar to her own, located near her grandfathers, except hers had a bathroom and a little more space and storage as a single.
The end of the corridor had just come into view when she was blocked by a group of boys gathered outside of an open door.
"Rumour has it," drawled a voice dripping with confidence, "you did summer school."
"Yep, chemistry. My Father thought I should get ahead. How was your summer, slick?" Came a lively reply from inside of the room.
Kathleen tried to edge around the group but she was forced back by a feverish boy and his hurried father. She pulled an involuntarily face as the sick boy sneezed a little too close to be hygienic.
Suddenly, the boy closest to her stepped backwards, and directly into her.
He pivoted in surprise.
"Sorry, I didn't see you there," the boy swept his hair back with his left hand, and extended his right towards her. "I'm Knox Overstreet, and you must be Nolan's granddaughter, right?"
"Yes. Kathleen Murray," she took his hand, surprised by the extent of his apologetic demeanour. "It's okay, it wouldn't have happened if some kid hadn't sneezed so closely to me."
"That'll be Spaz," laughed an auburn-haired boy in glasses who stood next to him. "I'm Steven Meeks."
"Pleasure to meet you," Kathleen smiled, shaking his hand as well.
"You found the girl?" The same drawling, almost laughing voice from before floated out from inside of the room.
"Yeah," Knox called back, turning to her as he stepped towards the open dorm, "do you want to come in and meet the others?"
She nodded, swiftly following Knox and Steven over the threshold. Inside were three others, including the terrified boy she had seen in assembly.
"Meeks, door closed."
Kathleen identified the owner of the voice. He had draped himself languidly over a bed, carelessly ruffling his dark hair as he lit a cigarette with a single flick.
"What are the four pillars?" Asked another as the boys settled themselves in the room.
"Travesty, horror, decadence, excrement," they echoed dramatically.
Kathleen leaned against the ugly, cream wall and listened to the interaction with amusement.
"Hey, study group," announced the boy with the cigarette. "Meeks aced Latin. I didn't quite flunk English so," he continued, stretching further out on the bed, "if you want, we've got our study group."
"Sure," replied the boy in the window whose raised brows indicated the true ownership of the furniture his companion used so freely.
Despite the open suitcase, he had been forced to abandon it at the beds end. He seemed unaffected, even expectant, of this clearly welcome intrusion.
"Cameron asked me already, does anyone mind including him?"
"What's his specialty? Bootlicking?" His friend smirked.
"He's your roommate."
"That's not my fault!"
"Kathleen, are you interested in joining?" Steven asked, turning away from his friends.
"If it's okay with all of you," her heart sped up at the shake in her voice. Daring to remove her focus from Meeks' cordiality, she looked briefly at the others who were all nodding.
"Hey, we got the girl!" Cheered one of the boys.
"The girl is called Kathleen," she corrected laughingly. "I'm great with English and history, but pitiful with mathematics."
"Don't worry about it," assured the tall boy, "I'm Neil Perry by the way. That's Charlie," he said, pointing at the boy on his bed who saluted, "and that's Todd Anderson. He's new to Welton too."
"Hi," the boys echoed, introducing themselves in turn to Todd, who shook their hands obligingly before returning hastily to the task of unpacking.
"Todd's brother is Jeffrey Anderson," said Neil. The others murmured in recognition. Clueless to the significance of this brother, Kathleen listened.
"Valedictorian and national merits scholar," Charlie whistled. He was right, it was a pretty impressive list of accomplishments.
"Oh, welcome to Hellton," commented Steven with a nod at both Todd and Kathleen.
"It's every bit as tough as they say, unless you're a genius like Meeks," Charlie added, offering Neil a smoke.
"He flatters me. That's why I help him with Latin."
"And English, and trig-" Charlie's laugh trailed off into coughs as he accidentally inhaled the smoke.
Kathleen bit back a smirk.
A knock at the door sounded, sparking a frenzy of movement as Charlie stamped on the cigarette and Neil tried to wave the smoke away. "It's open," he called.
In strode a man in a grey suit. The boys stood up and Kathleen copied them.
"Father! I thought you'd gone." Neil blinked, his hands tensing into fists.
"Mr Perry," Charlie smiled tightly, obviously familiar with the man.
"Keep your seats fellas, keep your seats," he glanced around the room. "Ah, and lady. You must be Gale's granddaughter, Miss Murray."
"Yes, Sir." She replied, startled by the recognition.
"I've heard great things from your Grandfather. It's a shame about the fire at St. Mary's," he frowned, "but I'm sure you'll find Welton a great substitute. I hope the boys have been treating you well."
"I'm convinced I will, Sir. My grandfather runs a fine institution. And the boys have all been perfect gentlemen," her wide, society beam surfaced.
She thought briefly about how pleased her etiquette teacher would've been to a see genuine effort for charm, and not the inattention or teasing usually found among her friends in that Thursday afternoon class.
"I'm glad," he nodded curtly. "Neil, I've actually just spoken to Mr Nolan. I think you're taking too many extra-curricular activities this semester, and I've decided that you should drop the school annual."
"But I'm assistant editor this year!"
"I'm sorry Neil." His response was firm, but in Kathleen's opinion he didn't seen apologetic at all.
"But Father I can't! It wouldn't be fair-"
"Fellas, lady, would you excuse us for a moment, please." Mr Perry interrupted his son; his quick exit had left no chance for discussion.
She remained silent, tracking the knowing look exchanged between the friends. She even caught Todd's lingering gaze of concern. They were both newbies, but she knew that he could tell it was bad. The atmosphere had changed the moment Mr Perry walked in, though it hadn't been so prominent until now.
Whispered arguing slipped beneath the door. The students inside fidgeted, their eyes locked on various objects as they tried not to listen.
Thankfully, Steven broke the silence. "Mr Perry mentioned a fire. If you don't mind me asking, how did it start?"
"It's fine," she smiled, grateful for the distraction. The others turned, their eyes fixed on her as she delivered an escape.
"Summer school cookery club got a little out of hand. One of the younger girl's pans caught fire. She panicked and ran over to the sink, but the fire caught the curtains. The supervisor got everybody out before any flames reached the gas, but our kitchens exploded. It caused damage to half of the west wing. They actually thought the chemistry class was at fault until they realised that class was in the library that day." She lengthened her explanation with further details, attempting to drag out her story until Neil and his father were finished.
"That's awful, was everyone alright?"
"Shit," Charlie murmured.
"No injuries, but repairs mean school can't open until January - if it all goes to plan."
Silence.
It seemed like Neil's Father had left, but Neil still hadn't reappeared. Thirty seconds had barely passed before Charlie and Knox darted out to check on him.
Kathleen conversed with Steven, and eventually Todd, while they waited for the others to return.
She found out about another friend, Gerard Pitts, and that Charlie's roommate, Richard Cameron, sometimes tagged along as well.
She found herself relaxing as the the boys re-grouped, ushering her and Todd with lively conversation down to the dining hall.