Chapter Text
When his parents parked in front of the huge castle that was Saint Charles boarding school, Shane Hollander took a deep breath, bracing for the impact of meeting his classmates after two months of calm holidays.
“There we are Shane ! First we have to talk with Mr Crowell, then find your dorm.” exclaimed his mother. She was a very pretty woman, with a tough character, who always got what she wanted. This place at Saint Charles, she had got it by her cold charm, laughing to the jokes of the director and praising the great and renowned education of Saint Charles. Shane didn’t like the director, Mr Crowell. He smiled like a reptile.
“And remember Shane, it’s an overwhelming day, so remember to stay polite !” laughed his father.
Shane loved his father. He was very much like him. A silent man, but a good listener, and very straightforward if needed. However, the joke didn’t landed well. Shane couldn’t help it he was anxious and shy at a very very high level. Shane faked a laugh, which just translated by a nervous chuckle.
When Shane opened the car’s door and his feet touched the ground, he stayed still for a moment. People were laughing and he could hear balls bouncing, and several boys were running. Some freshmen, now sophomores, were watching not that discreetly from windows of the first floor, some girls, probably sisters helping their brothers to settle down. The smell of the flowers was overwhelming, as much as the atmosphere full of pollen and dust under the bright sun. “This is going to be a long year.” thought Shane.
They didn’t get his trunk out of car for now, and started to search for Mr Cromwell. Everytime his parents and him ran into a student or a teacher, Shane felt the same feeling of pure nervousness. He had butterflies in his stomach, but like very bad ones. He probably started to feel a headache too. Thankfully, the greeting “ Fine and you ? Can’t wait to hear about your vacation” worked with everyone and Shane was repeating it endlessly, trying to say it with a smile and an honest tone. This day wasn’t going to end was it ?
They find Mr Crowell in the classroom of eight grade, smiling proudly with some parents who were looking at him like he was some sort of wonderful king. Well he was the king of Saint Charles. He had arrived four years ago, and everyone said he was… different than the previous director. The last one was a saint. Warm and fatherly, he knew when you had a bad day and would come talk about it personally, make sure you were alright. It was impossible to be mad against him, had said Hayden Pike, Shane’s friend, when he gave you a piece of chocolate the days where you missed your parents a bit too much. Sadly, Mr Arnaud had died of old age, and had been replaced by the young, manipulative and cold Mr Cromwell. That man had not one sell of fatherly instinct. He walked on business and business only. Either you respected him and his rules, and got great grades, or you were kick out. Saint Charles was for the elite, not the lazy, he liked to repeat, with a content smile.
Shane’s mother exclaimed : “Mr Crowell ! How lucky we have found you !”
Mr Crowell's charming smile was making Shane sick. Could he not be flirting with his mother right now ? Could anyone see how deeply false this guy was ? Shane remembered that Hayden had told him that a guy, Price, had got kicked out because he had went to therapy, and that Crowell had esteemed it “wasn’t good for the school image.” What a hypocrite. No one would have known about the therapy sessions if Crowell hadn’t alluded to it in front of parents. Shane knew one thing about Crowell : he didn’t like the students.
He wasn’t hearing half of what Crowell was saying. Something of how his Asian origins were a great way to expend the other students interests or something. Did he expect Shane to teach everyone how to do sushi ? Shane was trying desperately to smile and nod at the right times, and keep his eyes on Mr Crowell, but they always landed on the floor.
Thankfully, they were freed by the arrival of a father and his son. The father was an old bald man with little blue eyes. Something in how he was dressed and walking screamed “military”. There was a lot of military’s children at Saint Charles. They never stayed for long, but were interesting, because they had travelled a lot. The son was tall, and had curly blond hair. Objectively speaking, just by a look, Shane could tell he was gorgeous. Objectively speaking. He had a sad look, and Shane wondered if he was as overwhelmed as he was. A new guy is always lost before starting boarding school. Shane was in his second year at Saint Charles, and still felt overwhelmed. But Shane was a bit weird, he had to admit that. It took him a whole year to get used to the students and the school. If it wasn’t for Hayden, last year could have been resumed by “hell”.
Wait. Wait a minute. Shane stopped suddenly in the middle of the corridor leading to the dorms. No way. No. It couldn’t be. It had been six years. Oh no. That guy. Fuck. Shit. No bad word, Shane ! That little fucker.
Ilya Rozanov had come back to Canada. The asshole from sixth grade. His personal enemy at hockey. The guy who got good grades without trying. And now, he had become a handsome guy, fallowing his father, with a smirk (Shane hadn’t see it but could feel Rozanov smirking), and in the same class as him at Saint Charles.
No. Shane was top of his class. He had praises for his good behaviour and his seriousness. He had won the hockey cup of the year before the summer. Ilya Rozanov was not going to throw that away with his tallness, blond curls, and muscles. No !
He had decided that when he arrived in his dorm. Five beds and a bathroom (the juniors and the seniors had the privilege to have their own bathroom next to their room). The bags indicated that everyone had settled down already. On the door there was the name of the dorm and of its inhabitants :
“Saint Thomas Aquinus
Mr Boizeau
Mr Comeau
Mr Drapeau
Mr Hollander
Mr Pike”
The will to always call teenagers “mister” was weird, but it was the tradition at Saint Charles.
The four other guys were classmates of Shane, his best friends being Hayden Pike, a gossipy guy, sometimes a bit insolent, but funny, and JJ Boizeau, who had never had a good grade and had always managed to keep up, with the minimum asked. They were fun. Shane didn’t expect to have very profound conversations with them, but at least they knew had to make him laugh, and always defended him.
The two other guys had their own… personality and they didn't have the same interest or humour. They liked showing off photos of actresses in bikinis, that were obviously prohibited, and talking about the big parties they had went with their cousins. Shane had no interest in cinema or partying. However, he was smart enough to know it was important to participate, and still behave like any other guy, holding the forbidden photographs of unknown stars, while the other guys whispered “What a babe”.
While his parents went to take his baggage, telling him to meet his friends, Shane stayed in the dorm. He had no will whatsoever to find Hayden and JJ. It would be the official end of his vacations. Instead he went to the window, which gave to the park, where the last beams of the sun were shining.
He didn’t even had the time to breathe in and breathe out, that someone put a hand on his shoulder. He jumped.
“Wahoo hey buddy, didn’t want to startle you man ! Good to see you !”
Shane got the biggest smile : “Hey Hayden ! Missed you !”. That was true. He had missed Hayden and he didn’t even know it. Living with only his parents and sometimes his grandma had been long !
“Dude, did you get a sunburn ?” asked Shane. Hayden obviously had the skin on his nose completely red.
“ That ? Oh yeah, on the beach in Florida ! Oh hey Yuna ! Hello David ! Are these Shane’s things ?”
Shane cringed at Hayden using his parents first name. He wasn’t thinking about being insolent, just was a lot, and hadn’t the social rules completely acquired. Thankfully, his parents didn’t say a thing, and Hayden didn’t see his father surprised look.
JJ arrived soon after, and all three fought over which bed they were going to get. Shane got the top one of bed bunk, JJ below him. When Shane’s parents leaved, his mother repeating recommendations, he felt glad that part of the day was over, something was off the planning, and also worried. He was there for two months until the next vacation. Anything could happen.
At five till eight, everyone went done the stairs, the shoes making noise in the wooden staircases, mixed with hushed laughter. At eight o’clock precisely the priest said a few words, they sang, and sat down for dinner. French fries and chicken to celebrate the beginning of the year. At Shane’s table there were only well known faces, including the senior Scott Hunter, a great guy, good with the youngest. He was serious and had actually gave Shane advices on books. However, he tried all evening to talk with him about vacations, and Shane couldn’t tell him that he was not interested in small talk about the weather on the beaches.
Then there was the “playtime” where the boys changed their shoes for more practical one, and started playing on the soccer field. Shane was only looking. He was captain of the hockey team. Soccer wasn’t for him. He saw that guy through the field. Ilya Rozanov. He came to him and sat next to him on the bench. Awkward. Well he had to talk.
“ You’re new here aren’t you ? I wanted to introduce myself, I’m Shane Hollander. A junior. You’re one too aren’t you ?”
Shane stupidly gave his hand to shake. What were they ? Business men ? Ilya looked at him from head to toe, as if judging him, and shook his hand. “ Ilya Rozanov. We used to know each other. Sixth grade.”
He had a big Russian accent. How could Shane had forgot that ?
“ Right. I remember you. Great hockey player. Well congratulations for coming to Saint Charles ! Can’t wait to play with you at hockey sometime !”
They shake hands a second time. Was this weird ? Probably. Shane hoped Rozanov hadn’t notice. He was going to go when he heard :
“You won’t be so nice when we beat you. I’m on Marlow’s team.”
Marlow. Great guy. The other captain at hockey. Was it sixth grade all other again ?
“That’s not happening.”
Shane Hollander was pretty glad at his chirp. He hadn’t even stammered.
Later, when everyone was reunited in the chapel praying before going to sleep, Shane was sadly on the same bench as Rozanov who had sung loudly with a great deep voice. If that fucker, thought Shane, takes my solos on choir, he is a dead man.
But in the end, Shane prayed :
“God, if you’re listening. Please make Rozanov not so much of an asshole. Sorry. Not so much of a… Make him liveable. You understand. Make me less awkward. Make me win. And please, I’m begging you : make this year and every day go swiftly and well.”