Chapter Text
A light breeze swept across the school’s grounds, filling the air with a slight sense of cool. Students, newcomers and returnees alike, all filed into the large building ahead. The Farrell School for Troublesome Boys looked old and weathered, almost dreary. The once hotel complex now turned school was a tall and wide brick with fairly simple windows and doors. Situated in what felt like nowhere, it was fairly cut off from the city and the grounds stretched far into the woods. It was a famous institution, known for great cures in ailments of the mind. The fair haired boy’s father sent him there.
Ralph Nance stood before the wide doors in a uniform that was too crisp and too new. The stiff fibers of the cool red blazer scratched at his skin. Blowing around in the breeze, a yellow and red tie hung close to his neck; almost too close. Even his old khaki pants felt stiff since being ironed. He did not like the feeling that his uniform gave him. The red reminded him of an evil beastly color, the yellow of ugly fire. He felt like he was suffocating under the fabric. There was simply not enough room to breathe. The clothes were too restrictive. What if he needed to run somewhere quick? What if he was being chased? What if there was a fire. What if—
He shook his head with great fervor. You can’t think about that now. The island is in the past. That’s what they all said. He just had to believe it. He held his large old suitcase with a firm grip, knuckles turning white. Maybe this will be the right school for him, he thought. Maybe after the past year of bouncing around from school to school, he will find a place to fit in. With the weirdos. The mentally ill.
He entered through the large doors in front of him. When he stepped in he was welcomed to a large atrium filled with warm yellow light. There were teachers and staff members sectioning the kids off into groups. Ralph joined the ranks of new kids, last names starting with J through N. There was not many. But he didn’t look at the kids. He looked at the doors and windows. Doors and windows were the unassuming but most vital parts of a building. They held the means of escape. If there was trouble, knowing the layout of a room was your best chance of making it out alive.
“All right children, listen up,” all eyes turned to the firm male voice. The man seemingly in charge of Ralph’s group was a balding man with a salt and pepper beard. He was tall and lanky, taller than anyone else in the room. He had a kind face, but looked as though he was perpetually tired. “I am Mr. Hanks. I am in charge of room and board at this school. Let me show you the layout and to your rooms,” he said. Ralph noticed his clipped tone of voice. Mr. Hanks seemed to be a no nonsense kind of man. Noted.
The small group of new students followed Mr. Hanks as he showed them around the school. Just outside the atrium was the dining hall, a large open room with the same warm yellow light. Many of the returning students were hanging out in the hall and catching up with old friends. The lower levels of the building were the classrooms, large convention halls repurposed and sectioned off into smaller rooms. The dining hall was connected to these classrooms and the dorm rooms through the elevators. The small group got in one of these elevators and started rising to the third and fourth floors where the students will be living. Mr. Hanks explained on the way up how the school carries a buddy system of sorts when it comes to living arrangements. New students are paired up with those who have been at the school for a while to ensure a good transition.
“And we all pair you up with those who have similar issues,” said Mr. Hanks as the group ascended. “A boy who can’t focus might get paired up with one who is hyperactive. The idea is to foster good connections and networks with kids who know what you’re going through. Then they can give you tips that help them.” When he heard this, Ralph questioned the merits of the system. He doubted anyone would know how to help with visions of the past coming to haunt you. It was a battle for him to fight alone.
The small group went from door to door, Mr Hanks giving out room keys to each new student and dropping them off at their new homes. Ralph was the last to get his key and he was situated on the fourth floor. But before he went in, Mr. Hanks stopped him.
“I understand that your father wanted you to have a private room due to some night terrors, correct?” Ralph nodded. ‘Night terrors’ was a nice way to put it. In actuality they were vivid nightmares recounting all the horrible details of the past. Of paint. Of blood. Of beasts. The kind of dreams you wake up from in a cold sweat. “I am sorry we could not accommodate. But I believe your roommate may be a good fit,” Mr. Hanks smiled softly as he said this. “He is a quiet and stoic boy, doesn’t talk much, but he has similar issues to yours. I hope you two will get along.” And with that, Mr. Hanks left. Maybe he wasn’t so no nonsense.
Ralph stood there in front of the door, watching Mr. Hanks leave. I hope you two will get along. Yeah right. Ralph didn’t exactly do the ‘friend’ thing anymore. Not after two of them died, two were beaten in front of him, and one turned his back on him. Anyone close to him suffered. Even after the island people hurt because of him. His father was never the same since he came back. He was stuck in an odd kind of depression, one where he was happy Ralph was back, but sad that part of him was still gone: his peace of mind. Ralph was always watching; watching for danger and escape. He was suspicious of others. He constantly thought that they were trying to get the best of him, to get some grasp of power through him. He was hurt and tired. And he turned back to his thoughts a moment before: no one had issues anything like his.
Ralph took a deep breath and slipped his key into the lock. Twisted it. Opened the door. He made quiet noises for fear of disturbing his new roommate. He didn’t want to be a burden.
He entered the room. It was small. The entry room had a small television set with a couch in front of it. There were the year’s textbooks on a small shelf, two copies of each for both roommates. The only window was a small one next to the door. Down a short hallway was a bathroom set to the side and the bedroom straight ahead. The doors to both were open. The bathroom was average, just a normal bathroom. No windows, only the door. On the other hand, the bedroom had one large window.
“Hey, uh, gimme a minute—“ someone called from the bedroom. He seemed to be carrying something, and it was heavy based on the strain of his voice.
In the bedroom he could see what it might’ve been: two large and very nice quality suitcases, much unlike Ralph’s old tattered one. One was still closed and on the floor while the other was open and strewn across a bed. His roommate seemed to have chose the bed closest to the window. Ralph was fine with that. He preferred to be close to the door anyway. Closest to the means of escape. His roommate was putting clothes in the tall wardrobe next to the window bed. He could not see his face; it was obscured by the door.
But the it became revealed as the boy turned away to greet the one with fair hair.
The roommate had close cropped red hair.
Icy blue eyes.
A mass of dark spots on his nose and cheeks that extended down to his hands.
Ralph’s eyes went wide. He was filled with a strange mix of emotions. Mostly fear and shock. Yet he couldn’t place or notice the third emotion that lay under it all.
Jack Merridew’s eyes went wide. He never thought he would see Ralph again. Ralph could not tell what he was thinking.
“…Ralph?”