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Part 3 of The Raven's Collar - The Tale of Anri
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Peja's Wonderful World of Makebelieve Import
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2020-11-05
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The Tale of Anri - Chapter 3

Summary:

Anri is introduced to the school and its workings with his new friends.

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I found out later that Parker and Jerome were fourth-years and Henry, the tallest, was a third-year like me. Parker was sort of pudgy and had dark hair cut into what surely was once a bowl-cut but now ran rampant over his somewhat dirty face. Jerome, the oldest, was sort of gangly and thin, with a mess of fiery red hair and pockmarked skin. And Henry… I do enjoy describing Henry, for he wasn't bad to look at. Henry, despite being the youngest, was two heads taller than me and, since our first meeting, was usually smiling. He had blond hair cut choppily around his face, blue eyes that usually squinted because of his smiling, and a light peppering of freckles in just the right places on his high cheekbones. These three were the first to ever call themselves my friends, which was very odd because they'd been generally rude to me when I first met them, now that I think about it. Funny how that works out.

After my escapade with the vulture, I, in the place of an arsonist named Thomas Jacobs, followed Henry and the others to the laundry room, where a heavyset man in a hairnet (who may well have come from prison himself) sorted through packages of uniforms and handed me a plastic bag with my shirt, tie, and trousers neatly folded inside. I changed clothes in the lavatory and was pleased to discover that Thomas Jacobs' clothes were only one size too large for me, and Henry loaned me his belt so the trousers didn't slip over my slender hips. My hair was dry at this point, but we were drizzled again as we crossed the grounds to the left dormitory with a great number one on the side of the door. I ended up ruffling my hair up once we got inside so it didn't stick so wetly to my forehead and the back of my neck, and once I was finished, I got a good look at the room we had just come into.

The room (the "common room", as I learned it was called) was somewhat large and took up the entire floor except for the stairwell at the back, and was painted nicely in red with white borders for the windows and doors. There were a number of cushy-looking armchairs in a circle around a rug that sat at the foot of a fireplace, and bookshelves lined one of the walls adjacent to the chairs. I immediately felt comfort overwhelm me when I saw the room, and I apologize if the room was actually somewhat dank and disgusting, because as I said, a dinner roll could impress me back then. I may have even made this up, as I have done with parts of this story I hardly remember now. You can't fault me for that.

"It's wonderful," I breathed, following them to the cushy armchairs and flinging myself into one, and Henry laughed.
"It's not really all of that… but it's cozy, at the very least," he said.
"I hate the dormitories," scowled Parker for the second time that day.
I turned to him in disbelief. "Why do you hate them? This room is so nice."
"It's not the rooms I hate," he explained scornfully, "it's what happens in them! And in the showers especially," he added with disgust.
I looked at him, then to Jerome and Henry, then back at him. "Why? What happens in the rooms? Are there insects?"
"No," said Jerome, "but I bet Parker wishes there were."

I looked to Henry, who was sitting in his chair with one long leg over the arm, and he sighed. "It's a boys' school, Mason," he said. "Get a bunch of boys in one place with no girls, and things happen."
"Especially in the showers," Parker added with distaste.
I was still confused but I didn't press the matter.

After a bit of lounging, I followed the boys up the stairs, then said goodbye to Parker and Jerome, whose dorm room was on the second floor, and followed Henry even further up, to the fourth floor, where Henry led me down a corridor lined with doors with numbers printed on them. He stopped at a door printed with the number 216 ("Remember that," he told me, tapping the numbers) and pulled it open, letting me inside.

My mouth was agape as I entered the room, done in hardwood floors with cream-colored walls, furnished with two desks and a bunk bed made with pine (or maple, I told you I'm no good with wood). The bottom bunk was unmade and scattered with clothes and books.

"The top's yours," Henry told me as he pushed me inside, shutting the door behind us and gesturing to a door near the only window in the room. "There's a toilet at the back of the room, but no shower. If you want to shower you have to go to the room between the dorms. It's at the back of the dormitory, second floor. But don't go there alone, all right? I'll take you."

"Why not?" I asked, halfway up the ladder to my bunk.
He shook his head as if a chill had just run up his spine and looked at me. "You just don't want to go there alone. Especially not someone like you."
"What do you mean someone like me?" I said defensively.
"I mean… you're sort of skinny and not bad to look at, you know?"
I didn't know what that had to do with anything but I ignored it. "Suppose I need to take a shower and you're on holiday?"
"Then stand outside in the rain."
"Suppose it's not raining?"
"Then steal some perfume and bathe like a French whore," he said stubbornly.
I wondered how many French whores Henry had caught bathing.

----------

Henry and I did mostly nothing for a few hours after that. We were discussing our books, I think, because I hadn't got any and I'd probably have to take loaners out from the teachers and the library, or share Henry's, which he didn't mind at all. It must have been about five o' clock when Henry looked up at the digital clock on his desk and started to his feet.

"Blimey, is that the time? Come on, Mason, if we're late to dinner we'll be stuck with bread!"
I was about to argue that, having eaten bread heels a lot with the old woman, plain bread wasn't really all that bad, but Henry had seized my arm and was dragging me downstairs before I knew it.

The dining hall was downstairs in the small building that connected the two dormitories, which also housed the showers and the full student library used by both dorms. Would you mind if I borrowed this scrap of paper for a moment? Ah, yes, here we are… If I had to draw a picture of the layout of the dorms, it would look like this…

_______________ _______________ _______________
|\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\|\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\|\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\|
|\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\|dining hall, shower|\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\|
|\\\\\\dorm 1\\\\\|\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\|\\\\\dorm 2\\\\\|
|\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\| courtyard |\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\|
|\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\| |\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\|

And then there was the school itself in front of the dorms, but I don't remember what shape it was. It's not important, anyway. The point is there was a corridor by the stairs to get to the dining from both dorms, and about twelve hundred boys (probably less, since I can't count with my eyes that well) were crammed into the dining hall when Henry and I got there. And yet, even among those boys, I seemed to stick out, because every boy seemed to stare at me as I passed. Henry dragged me past them, pulling me into line behind him. I was overtaken by the smell of food, food I hadn't tasted in quite a while… Dinner that evening was roast beef and potatoes, which, all things considered, wasn't cooked extremely well, but my mouth was watering as I stood in line, anxious to have my first decent meal in a month, and hadn't noticed I was standing on the foot of the person behind me.

"Oy!" said a loud voice that roused me from the hypnotic smell of roasted meat. "You going to move off anytime soon or am I going to ‘ave to tear your leg off?"
"Sorry," I said, turning to face the boy who shouted at me. I looked up about three heads to see a tall, burly boy with dark hair and furrowed brows, and a scowl directed at yours truly. Beneath me I noticed a scuff on his rather expensive-looking runners.

"'Oo are you, anyway, kid? I ‘aven't seen you around before…" the burly boy said loudly, drawing the attention of those around us.
"It's new meat, Tom, in't it?" sniggered a dirty-looking blond boy behind him. "Show ‘im what newbies get at Willows…"
I was about to speak before Henry got in front of me, arms out. "He didn't mean to do it, Tom," he said stiffly. "Bugger off before I have to start something here."
"Wot you going to do, Beale, spit on me?" Tom scoffed, fists on his hips, puffing his chest out.

And in fact, that is exactly what Henry did, right between the eyes. Tom let out a yell and wiped his face, and Henry let out a roar of laughter, which seemed to catch on quickly. I found myself laughing at his side, impressed by his bravado… I had never stood up to anyone before, and Henry had no fear at all.

The next moment the smile was wiped off my face as Tom recovered from Henry's attack and turned on me. I half-put up my fists, expecting him to deck me, but he just pointed a finger at me menacingly.
"I've got my eye on you, kid… this was a warning…" He turned and moved to the other line, with the dirty blond boy scampering behind him.

Now, I hope with that little segue from the important parts of the story I imbued this story with a bit more action. I'm simply awful at that sort of thing, so I most likely did an awful job. In any case, it was true. That's the important thing, now, isn't it?

Once Henry and I made our way through the line and back to the tables to sit, we were met by Parker and Jerome, who surrounded me at once before I could eat my roast beef.

"Are you bloody mad?" Parker said with disbelief.
"I don't think so," I said, looking wistfully at my tray, "just hungry."
"Not that!" said Jerome, swatting my fork out of my hand. "Picking fights with Tom Westley, that's grounds for murder, that is!"
"Lay off, Jer, he didn't know," grinned Henry. "Besides, no one got hurt, and we both had a bit of fun, didn't we, Mason?"
I silently agreed, but I was still staring down my meat. "Can I have my fork back?" I asked Jerome.

Henry laughed and clapped me on the back, handing me his fork to use and retrieving the discarded one that had skittered the length of the table. I licked my dirty maw and tucked into the first decent meal I'd had in ages. And it was one of the best meals I've ever enjoyed in my life… because as you well know, the best meals taste better when eaten with friends.

---

That night, stuffed full of meat and potatoes, I dispersed with my companions back to our dorm rooms, following Henry up the stairs to room 216 once again ("Did you remember the room number?") and flopped onto the floor, content at last. Henry laughed at the sight of me on the carpet, and I sat up with a grin.

"You'll be having classes tomorrow, you know," Henry said, shutting the door behind us.
"Classes are fun," I said, rolling about. The carpet was plush and smelled musty… but it was a good musty, the sort of musty that lingers on old stuffed animals.

Henry smiled, undoing his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. "Maybe for you… but Willows has a tough regimen here," he told me. "The students here are just a bunch of delinquents in the eyes of the school board. Rightfully so," he added, "but they're pretty tough."
"I'm tough though, right?" I said, looking at him upside-down from my position on the floor.
He laughed at me again, tossing his shirt onto my face as he worked on his trousers. Henry had a fairly nice physique, with a chest I often liked to bury my face in on cold nights, when he let me. "Yeah, you're a tough one," he said. "Now get ready for bed. I'll let you borrow my nightshirt, I'll take the bottoms. You don't mind sleeping in your pants, do you?"

I shook my head and crawled up into the top bunk, undressing and tossing my uniform down in a heap with Henry's. Henry did indeed lend me his nightshirt, which engulfed my slender frame in soft, worn fabric.
The bed itself was quite small and cozy, a spring mattress with broken-in bedding (which I enjoyed, for I detest stiff sheets), and I settled in quickly, curling up under the patchy comforter happily. I heard Henry say "Good night" to me before flicking off the light, and we were both plunged into blue darkness, with a stream of moonlight falling through the window. That night I forgot all about Mrs. Old Lady and her bread heels, my abusive father, my lovely sisters… I slept wonderfully for the first time in years, with Henry's soft breathing filling the room and his clothes wrapped around my body.