Weiss Kreuz Fan Fiction ❯ Standing Outside the Fire ❯ 09 ( Chapter 9 )

9

 

Sleep with one eye open, gripping your pillow tight…

 

I don't know what I expected when I woke up. I wasn't even sure where I was.

 

Then I remembered.

 

All of a sudden it was hard to breathe again.

 

I was alone in Konnor's bed. The light was off, and the door was slightly ajar. The covers had been pulled up as if he'd made the bed around me while I slept.

 

A sleek digital-style alarm clock told me it was 5:30.

 

I heaved a sigh and slipped from the bed, then smoothed down the sheet and pulled the covers back up. For a moment I debated taking the blanket off the bed and wrapping it around myself, as my clothes were probably still in the main room, on the floor, where he'd tossed them before…

 

Stop it right now, I told myself. Nothing happened. Nothing really important, anyway. I should probably feel lucky it wasn't any worse. Nevertheless, I was now trembling like I was freezing from the inside.

 

“Ah, you're awake.”

 

It took all my resolve to not jump at his voice. I turned slowly toward the door and nodded. “Yes…Konnor.” I'd almost slipped and called him `sir', though I knew better. After what he'd done, it seemed more proper; calling him by his first name seemed too close now.

 

He rested a hand on my shoulder, and I did not flinch. Konnor leaned over and dropped my clothes on the end of the bed. “Today is a big day for you, Bradley. You'll want to face it wide awake, I should think.” Then he turned the light on and left me alone to get dressed.

 

I picked up my jacket first, of all things, and just held it as if it could keep me warm without my putting it on. Shaking my head at myself, I set the jacket back down and picked up the t-shirt. Only when I heard Konnor doing something in the kitchen did I step into my underpants - somehow that felt more vulnerable than being naked.

 

Once I was dressed, I took a moment and looked around his room, just out of curiosity. It was stark and bare, with a neatly closed wardrobe along one wall and a tiny desk beneath the narrow window at the far end.

 

Before he came to fetch me, I turned off his light and made my way to the kitchen.

 

Konnor smiled at me as if nothing had happened. “There's pastries and coffee, if you'd like a little extra this morning, Bradley. You'll want your energy today.”

 

The last thing I wanted was sweets, but I nodded pleasantly and put one on a plate. Konnor ushered me back to the living room, twin cups of hot coffee in his hands. I didn't really want to sit on that sofa again - the smell of peppermint liquor hung over the table like a ghost - but I had no good way to decline. He sat beside me and sipped his coffee.

 

“After your classes today, you will be met by the head of your dormitory. He will show you where you will be staying from now on.” Konnor's voice sounded a little strained, but his face showed no reaction to his own statement. “Don't forget, I am still your mentor, Bradley. If you need anything, anything at all, come to me first, understood?”

 

“Understood.”

 

He leaned closer and whispered, “I'll keep those books safe for you, all right? You may visit them when your schedule permits.” Sitting back, he went on to say, “I expect to hear good things from your teachers. Do stop by to chat once in a while, so I get the news firsthand, all right? And you'll be having your first voice lesson tomorrow, I believe. Do give Shel my regards, would you?”

 

“I will.”

 

It astounded me that he didn't seem to notice I wasn't quite right, especially since he was the cause of it. Then again, as much as I was trying to convince myself that everything was, in fact, normal, he kept reminding me that it wasn't. All I wanted was to get away from him.

 

When he suggested I go to the cafeteria for some eggs before going to class, I agreed it would be a good idea, all the while hoping he wouldn't come with me.

 

He didn't, he just saw me to the door, made sure I had my books, and touched my face with his fingertips as he wished me a good day.

 

It was all I could do not to take off running.

 

Though I'd pretty much sleepwalked through my first two days, I suppose enough of the map had stuck in my head that I didn't get lost this time. I tried my best to concentrate on the classwork and not think about Konnor, but it was really difficult. I kept wondering what I'd done wrong, how I could have provoked him. It didn't make any sense.

 

“Herr Crawford, are you with us this morning?”

 

I blinked, momentarily lost in my own head. The teacher - I'd forgotten his name already - regarded me blandly from the podium. All the kids in the room stared at me as if they expected me to do a trick or something. I felt my face go hot as I stammered, “Jawohl, Herr…Garrick.”

 

“Granted, the class is history, Herr Crawford, something which is of limited interest to a foreseer, but it is required. Unless you are tuning in to something of more critical importance, I suggest you tune in here. If you cannot focus around your visions, perhaps a change of venue would be in order?”

 

“No, sir, I mean, yes, sir, Herr Garrick.” Oh, man, I was making this all messed up! “I mean, I'm back now, Herr Garrick.”

 

“Good. Be certain to mention this to your primary trainer.” He turned back toward the chalkboard, allowing me to wilt into my chair as much as possible.

 

Around me, kids in blue shirts looked mildly worried or embarrassed, while the kids in red looked smug. I started writing down notes and noticed my hand was shaking.

 

The kid behind me poked me in the shoulder with his pencil.

 

I jumped a bit, hoping like crazy the teacher hadn't noticed! But Herr Garrick was still facing the chalkboard, so I glanced back to see if the kid was trying to tease or honestly wanting my attention.

 

A boy in a blue shirt offered me a shy smile, the kind of smile that says “too bad teacher busted you, but at least it wasn't me today”. I shrugged and half-smiled back.

 

When the buzzer signaled the end of that class, the kid followed me out to the hall, then came up beside me. “You're the new precog, aren't you?” he asked, his voice reedy-high. “How old are you?”

 

I'd been kind of expecting “where are you from” or “what's your name, kid”, not a quiz on my age. “I'm twelve,” I told him, trying not to sound too much like a country boy. “Name's Bradley, Bradley Crawford.” I offered to shake his hand.

 

The kid grinned and accepted the handshake. “Trevor Ashton, pleased to meet you. I think you might be in my dorm. We were getting a new kid today, they said he was my age.”

 

We compared schedules, then realized we had to go in opposite directions now. We did have the same lunch time, so he promised to find me then. I made it to my next class a little more hopeful than I had been.

 

True to his word, Trevor found me in the dining hall and invited me to sit with his friends. Four other kids in blue gave me this sort of appraising glare, then seemed to accept me within their ranks. If we were back in Kentucky, I'd have said this was the geek table.

 

“Kentucky? Where's that?”

 

I blinked. Had I said it out loud?

 

“United States, Ashton. Don't you pay attention, or did you sleep through Geography?” The speaker had an accent that almost sounded Russian.

 

Trevor shrugged. “Never likely to go there, why should I pay attention?”

 

One of the other boys snickered, then gestured at me with his fork. “You can close your mouth now, Trevor's a telepath, and a lazy one at that! You're not losing your mind, he's pulling it right on out of your head!”

 

Aside from the subject matter, the banter reminded me of the school I used to go to, with its well-defined roles for the bookish and the jocks. I supposed maybe some things were universal after all. “How can I keep him out?” I asked, trying not to laugh.

 

The Russian kid frowned and said, “Think of something nasty, like -”

 

“Hey, I'm trying to eat, dammit!” Trevor choked, spitting food back onto his plate.

 

Then I did laugh, and the other kids laughed with me. I was beginning to feel like I almost belonged with them. It wasn't a bad feeling.

 

The rest of the day flew by, and I met up with my new-found friends for dinner. This time I looked around the cafeteria, really looked, and started making sense of things I'd sort of noticed before but never had the chance to think about. The younger kids, the ones in the dark gray jackets, stayed well away from the older kids. It was like they banded together like herd animals, safety in numbers. I wasn't sure why I thought that, but I couldn't shake the idea. Something about the older kids just screamed `menace'. Maybe it was just the power of adulthood.

 

Or maybe it was the smaller number of them.

 

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as I did the math. If the years were fairly constant, and the class of twelve-year-olds didn't grow or shrink much over time, that meant that very few of the kids were still here when they turned seventeen or so.

 

I had the feeling they didn't just transfer to another `boarding school'.

 

“Oh, shit!”

 

I glanced quickly at Trevor, who looked down and growled, “Patrol, due north.”

 

I started to ask, but the Russian kid - Piotr - grabbed my shoulder and squeezed. “Look. Down. At your plate. Say nothing.”

 

Foreboding colored my thoughts gray, and I did what he told me. Dimly I noticed a group of five older boys coming this way. They didn't hurry, they didn't wander: they strode across the cafeteria like they owned it. Their jackets were open, showing red shirts beneath.

 

One of them paused next to our table. The others waited while he leaned down and whispered something to Trevor.

 

My friend blushed, then nodded tightly. He pushed back from the table. “Later,” he murmured, then followed the older kid out.

 

Only when the five guys were gone did anyone at my table move.

 

“Come on,” Piotr whispered, “we'd better go.”

 

“Bradley Crawford?”

 

We all looked up, and I nodded before thinking. A young man in a light gray jacket with blue trim studied me with mild curiosity. He bowed slightly, the gesture reminding me of Konnor, and said, “David Smythe. I'm head of your dormitory. If you'll follow me?”

 

I glanced back at my friends, who were quietly melting into the herd as it moved out of the cafeteria. “Later,” I whispered, feeling very alone again.

 

The dorm room wasn't at all what I'd expected. It was small and cramped, with double bunk beds lining both side walls. The thought of cramming eight kids into this room threatened to set off my claustrophobia, but I managed to fight it down. There was plenty of space here, it was just all filled up with the furniture.

 

Five pairs of eyes regarded me with suspicion as I stared at my new home.

 

“Gentlemen, may I present your new roommate, Bradley Crawford. Herr Crawford, you may have the top bunk here on the end. There is a cupboard set into the wall where you may store your books and your clothing. You have an appointment tomorrow morning to pick up the rest of your gear, I trust you remember where you received your uniform?”

 

I nodded, hoping I didn't look too blank. These kids reminded me of miniature thugs, with hardened eyes and unsmiling mouths. All my instincts told me this was a dangerous place to be, but I had no choices left.

 

“Curfew is at twenty-two-hundred, first bell is at oh-six. The rules are simple,” David explained, leaning against the nearest bunk, the one opposite where I would be staying. He reached a hand up and over his head; the kid sitting on the top bunk palmed a cigarette from somewhere and handed it to him. David smiled. “Room inspections are conducted randomly, usually by me. Contraband is subject to confiscation. There is no smoking allowed in the room, nor are you to consume alcohol or any non-authorized chemicals here.”

 

The boy on the top bunk snickered. David smacked his foot, then shut the door and lit his cigarette. He leaned back again and blew an elaborate cloud of smoke into the air. “Friends, Herr Crawford, are the finest currency. Make your alliances wisely. Snitches are not tolerated in this dorm. Do you understand?”

 

“Oh, I understand,” I replied. Did I ever! The name of the game here was to get away with whatever you could, without getting caught by the wrong people or pissing anyone off. I felt dizzy, going from Konnor's strict but outwardly civil world to this one. I had slipped the grasp of Captain Hook only to fall in with the Lost Boys themselves.

 

“Hey, Smythe, he really does get it!” This voice came from almost behind me. I looked at the bunk below “mine”, and a curly-haired boy smiled up at me. He offered me his hand and introduced himself as “Frettchen”. “Don't think so loudly, new boy, and we'll get along just fine!”

 

David put out the cigarette on the sole of his shoe, then pocketed the stub. “Listen,” he said to me, “this isn't a bad bunch. There are those, to be sure, but these fellows are pretty solid. They can show you around, and it's my job to answer any questions and make sure you're fitting in all right.” He looked about the room, then checked his watch. “I know where Julian is, but where's Trevor?”

 

One of the kids shrugged; another just looked at the wall.

 

I cleared my throat to speak, but Frettchen beat me to it. “He's been having headaches, Smythe. Bad ones.”

 

“Damn. I take it he didn't go to medical?”

 

Frettchen shook his head. “Would you?”

 

David sighed. “I'll keep an eye out. Thanks.” To me he said, “Welcome to your dormitory, Herr Crawford. Oh, and the pencil sharpener is back here.” He gestured as he opened the door and let himself out.

 

Frettchen rolled off his cot and shut the door.

 

The kid on the top bunk across from me took out another cigarette and lit it.

 

The other three guys slouched back on their beds and started half-heartedly going through their textbooks.

 

I climbed up to my bunk, since there wasn't any other place to sit except the floor. There was a sort of swing-arm desktop attached to the frame, which was kind of cool, only it meant I'd be dangling my legs over the side to use it properly. At least I could do my homework on it.

 

The cupboard David mentioned was basically a box-drawer stuck into the wall near the head of the bunk. There was a shelf set over it that was just the right size for books, but by the feel of the wall and the drawer one good bump on the opposite side would land the books on my head. Still, I didn't have many better options. I stowed my stuff, then leaned against the wall and tried to relax.

 

“So, Crawford,” the smoker asked, “what do you do?”

 

I hadn't been asked that before. So far everyone had just kind of known. All of a sudden I didn't know what to say.

 

“He's the new precog,” Frettchen chirped. “You know, Schoenberg's find?”

 

I shuddered at the name. Trying to hide my reaction, I asked, “So what do you guys do?”

 

“I'm a `path,” the smoker said, then gestured at Frettchen. “So's he, and Trevor too. Julian's an object reader. These three antisocial bastards,” he chided, “two next to me are clairsentients, and Frettchen's neighbor over there is an empath.”

 

“Telempath, thank you very much,” the boy on the lower bunk next to mine grumbled. “Georgiev Stenovich. Now if you don't mind, I'm trying to study.”

 

“Antisocial bastard.”

 

“Enough, Donley.” The guy on the bottom bunk next to the smoker slammed his book shut and glared up at him. He looked a little older, like maybe fourteen or so. “And put out that damn cigarette. Smythe doesn't owe you that much.” He glanced up at me and said, “Telepaths are mostly fruitcakes, but they're not all that bad. Donley's a bit of a speed-head, with a mouth to match, if you hadn't noticed. Whereas clairsentients, and I'm sure precogs, are a quieter breed, with more need for concentration. Especially when they're trying to fucking study!”

 

“All right, all right!” Donley growled, stubbing out his cigarette and hiding the butt inside his shoe. “Antisocial-”

 

The door opened.

 

The five guys stopped talking and stared at their textbooks. I followed suit, while sneaking a look at the door. I was hoping it was Trevor.

 

It wasn't. A lean and weary-looking kid headed straight for the bunk below Donley's, dropping his books to the bed and joining them in a limp heap. He flung an arm over his eyes like he was trying to block out the light.

 

Frettchen shut the door and squatted next to the guy's bunk. “Jules, you okay?”

 

The new guy nodded. “I'll be fine,” he whispered. “Just a little queasy.” He wiped his forehead with a leather-clad hand, following up with a back-handed wipe across his nose. He sat up and noticed me looking at him. “You the new precog?”

 

I nodded.

 

He smiled thinly. “See anything good for me tomorrow?”

 

“It doesn't quite work that way,” I told him, wishing that it did. What a bargaining chip that would be! “Sorry.”

 

Julian shook his head. “Never apologize. To anyone. They take it as a sign of weakness here. Where are you from?”

 

“Kentucky. United States,” I added in case he was in Trevor's Geography class.

 

Julian nodded. “You sound a little like Elvis.”

 

“He's not from Kentucky,” I replied, not sure if I should feel pleased or insulted by his statement.

 

Rather than continue talking, Julian rolled over on top of his books and pulled the thin blanket over himself, not even bothering to take off his shoes.

 

I leaned down and asked Frettchen, “Is he okay?”

 

Concerned gray eyes looked up at me. “He's been doing extra psi-work in the evenings, trying to get his gift under control. It's hard for him here. He usually passes out for a couple of hours, then tries to cram his studying in before curfew. Sometimes he uses a flashlight.”

 

I didn't know what to say to that. Mechanically I lined up my books and started in on my assignments. My mind didn't want to cooperate. It kept asking all sorts of unnerving questions.

 

A buzzer announced it was almost curfew, and still no sign of Trevor. The others filed out to use the bathroom and brush their teeth, and I followed. I hadn't really paid attention to the public bathrooms here, but tonight I couldn't help notice how open they were, with low toilet stalls and one big shower area. At least I didn't have that watched feeling like I'd had in Konnor's apartment, but this was nasty in its own right.

 

My roommates changed into nightshirts and folded their uniforms before heading back. I realized I didn't have sleep-clothes, I'd been using my old t-shirt and briefs up till now. I'd have to wear my uniform t-shirt and shorts to bed, or wear nothing, and I wasn't about to sleep naked here again if I could help it. I folded my pants and jacket and hurried after the others.

 

When I got back to my bunk, I noticed a lump in the next bed over. The lights went out before I could get a better look, but I knew it had to be Trevor.

 

I wanted to ask if he was all right, but the silence was too heavy. No one else spoke, and I felt like I wasn't supposed to. I tried thinking loudly in his direction, like Frettchen had teased me about.

 

Nothing.

 

Time drawled along, and sleep wouldn't come. I lay there thinking, worrying, wondering. My mind couldn't even have the decency to throw visions at me, it was all just whirling chaos mixed with fear.

 

A muffled creak brought me to full awareness. Someone had climbed down from their bunk.

 

Climbed down, and crawled into a different bed.

 

From Georgiev's bunk I heard the soft sound of furtive weeping.

 

I rolled toward the wall and willed myself to sleep.

 

 

 

 

A/N:

Sleep with one eye open, gripping your pillow tight…

“Enter Sandman” - Metallica Metallica (the Black Album)

 

Out of the frying pan and into the fire, from Konrad's dubious protection to the wilds of the Rosenkreuz dormitory. Now Bradley's education begins in earnest.

 

About Konnor's “sleek digital-style alarm clock” - remember, this story takes place during the mid-80's, when most digital clocks were clunky, red LED monstrosities and still a little bit novel.