“Grey, what happened to you yesterday?” the blonde boy asked his friend. “You stepped out before the entrance ceremony and never came back! Your father, the great Mage of the century was not too pleased! He was on the podium and called out your name. He called your name thrice but you never showed up, I wanted to raise my hand and respond to your unknown whereabouts but the silence in the auditorium was...you know...kind of overwhelming with terror. Where were you, Grey?”
Grey Ethel ignored his friend’s questions, he was seated uncomfortably in the centre of the chattering classroom, it was far from his ideal school seat. He preferred the back seat, close to the window. This seat was always quiet, away from the noise of his classmates and more importantly it allowed him to idly stare at the clouds during the class in session.
But, because he had missed the opening ceremony and the entire day at school yesterday, his dear childhood friend, Finnegan Rhys – the one and only prince of Rhys – had chosen this particular loud middle seat for him without his consent.
“Finnegan, you do realise this seating arrangement is quite noisy,” said Grey, glancing at the person who occupied his ideal seat near the window – it was a girl. Her hair was red and tied in a ponytail.
She smiled, cheerfully listening to her friends’ chatter.
“Gossiping girls,” sighed Grey in disappointment, turning his head away from his occupied ideal seat. She obviously had no clue how to use the seat, Grey thought, it was wrong to place a gossiping girl in the back seat. She had no idea of the view outside, the way the clouds would float misty white in the blue sky.
Grey crossed his arms on top of the wooden desk, he exhaled in discontentment and accepted his middle fate. He stared at his arms intently for a brief ten seconds, evaluating if his arms would make a comfortable pillow. In the eight seconds of those ten seconds, he had decided that his arms would make the perfect pillow so he slowly slouched his head down in the comfort and warmth of his blue tunic arms.
BANG!
Finnegan slammed both his hands onto Grey’s wooden desk, the loud sound vibrated into Grey’s head, partially awakening his drowsiness.
“What are you doing, Grey?” asked Finnegan, offended. “Are you planning to sleep this early in the morning? Haven’t you slept enough yesterday? Or did your father curse you into a beating yesterday?”
Grey found his ear, rubbing it, trying to make the ringing vibration sound disappear. “Finnegan, that was rude,” said Grey. “I can’t hear anything because of you.” He looked around the classroom, eying all his chattering classmates. “See here, Finnegan. This seat you chose is noisy and now you’ve added to it,” he told Finnegan, annoyed.
He then deliberately shook his table from side to side. “Look my wooden desk is still shaking because of you and all your noise.”
“Grey, you are such a moron,” said Finnegan, dryly, taking his seat on the left of Grey’s. “Tell me where you ran off too?” And tell me if your father found you,” pried Finnegan.
Grey stopped shaking his table and slouched his head on it, he turned his head to face Finnegan. “I told you I was feeling nervous, my body was far too hot and cold for the entrance ceremony,” he explained.
“Yeah, but you told me you would be right back before the entrance ceremony officially began. What took you so long?”
Grey sighed, in remembrance of the event of yesterday. “I went to cool my body down by the river. I sat near the bank of the river cooling down my legs, and then all of a sudden two old men wanted to murder me,” replied Grey rather calmly, thinking that a wooden desk anywhere, would be a comfortable spot for sleeping, even in the middle of a noisy classroom. “I thought elderly people were meant to be friendly and quiet.”
“They are friendly and quiet, look at Butler Dell,” Finnegan said, thinking about old people. “He’s been with me forever, he only says five words a day, not more.”
Grey yawned at Finnegan’s statement, his cheek felt the smooth texture of the wooden desk. This was the perfect place to sleep, he thought.
“I have been counting,” continued Finnegan. “Look at my father, he is slightly old. Younger than Butler Dell but still considered old, he doesn’t say much either. All he ever asks me is if I have any homework even on school holidays!” Finnegan somehow started to complain. “I mean shouldn’t a father and son have a strong bond? Like that comic book series, Arthur and his son!”
“Your father is the King,” Grey answered Finnegan’s complaint. “And Arthur and his son, is not really about a strong bond between father and son, it is more about the torture Arthur’s son has to endure due to his father.” Grey understood Arthur’s son more than Finnegan did, his own father the so called great Mage of the century was similar to the written character of King Arthur, he was mad and angry at everything his son did – it was rather funny that the volumes of comic books never mentioned the son’s name. “Your father has a whole kingdom to manage and you are a prince. A prince should never bang tables,” Grey advised, his tired silver eyes had shut.
BANG!
“Finnegan, now really,” said Grey, annoyed. His eyes still shut whilst his ears got used to the loud ringing in his ear. “This is rather childish,” he used his mother’s scolding tone, “we are thirteen and no more twelve years of age. You need to act more mature.”
He waited for Finnegan to retort but did not hear a thing, even the loud chattering of his classmates had stopped. Grey peeked through the darkness of his eyes and found Mrs Wretchered facing him.
She was the reason for the fearful silence and the loud bang.
She was an old, grey haired lady that wore a dark blue tunic and always had a staff in hand that she used as a walking stick.
“Mr Grey Ethel, it seems you are still in your childish twelve-year-old state,” she said, grimly, staring at him in an un-amused frown. “Shall I let you know of the outcome of your behaviour or does your twelve-year-old brain still remember?”
Grey let out a sigh, he glanced at Finnegan who looked apologetic then he looked at Mrs Wretchered. “Yes, Mrs Wretchered. I remember well. A disciplinary letter to my parents that must be signed and a personal apologetic reflection essay, which must be promptly handed tomorrow morning before 8 AM,” he recited the disciplinary commands he knew off by heart from his previous year.
Mrs Wretchered smiled but it looked like a frown. “I am pleased you remember the punishment, but now that you’ve moved up a grade, it’s different now, more mature like the thirteen-year-old you should be. But, alas the punishment will definitely convince your mind to act appropriately. Grey Ethel, make sure you see me after all your lessons,” she said.
“You mean after all my lessons in school? But... but... but that’s when everyone goes home!” exclaimed Grey, raising his head in protest. “I can’t miss going home!” He looked to Finnegan for help, but Finnegan shied his head away.
“This can’t be! I want to go back to being twelve and in the lower grade! The only reason I studied so hard was because of my father’s constant complaints! Now, what’s the point of studying so hard to get to a place where you can’t even go home like the rest of the students including the lower grades!”
“Grey Ethel!” warned Mrs Wretchered. “If you continue to disrupt the class you will be suffering more than not going home early! Now, quiet down and make sure you follow my instructions!”
Grey folded his arms in quiet protest, this was unfair, he thought, why did he have to meet Mrs Wretchered after school hours? Finnegan was the cause of his distress, shouldn’t Finnegan be charged with the same verdict?
“Wait Mrs Wretchered!” Grey quickly uttered. “What about Finnegan?”
“What?” shrieked Finnegan, his eyes popping from his skull. “I... I...” stuttered Finnegan, trying to speak but he was far too flabbergasted that Grey had suggested he should share in the punishment.
“I only did what I did because Finnegan asked me a question!” challenged Grey, eager to share his misery with his best friend. He had no clue what this new thirteen-year-old after-school punishment entailed – it was obvious he should not withstand the fear alone.
“You do have some common sense after all Grey Ethel,” said Mrs Wretchered, approving of his statement. “You weren’t talking to yourself. You will also see me after all your lessons, Finnegan Rhys.”
Finnegan lost all colour in his face, he looked pale, shocked and sick.
“Finnegan,” grinned Grey. “Stop with the look of betrayal, it will be an adventure like in our favourite comic book Arthur and his son,” he whispered.
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