His first instinct was to run. Not because he was afraid, no, quite the contrary. A few meters ahead stood a tall white building, an inscription reading “Livingstone Academy”. With the main building consisting of 5 floors and several other smaller buildings scattered around the area, the whole school ground was enormous. His last schools had 3 floors at most. ‘Guess it’s different for prestigious schools,’ he scoffed in his thoughts.
The place was well maintained and fully renovated only a few years ago. The gardens around it almost seem unreal, flowers blooming everywhere but not one placed randomly, grass neatly cut to the same length, and the paths leading to the different school buildings were strangely straight with every angle thoroughly calculated. A few students were lingering by the benches or the fountains, who just fit the image flawlessly, seeming to be part of a beautiful impressionistic painting.
He wasn’t used to this kind of surroundings, he wasn’t used to all this perfection, which he thought of as nothing but fake. He didn’t even want to be here, yet he had no choice.
His mother stood beside him, “You can make your way to the principal’s office alone, right? Please behave well, this is your last chance, do you understand?” No response. “I know that it was hard for you all these years, but you have the opportunity to start from new. This is a good place, trust me. The principal is an old friend of mine, he is a really nice and competent man, you will be in good hands.”
His mother tried to smile to even seem mildly optimistic. She loved her son, but she knew that it would be hard to change his behaviour in only that last year of school.
She sighed. She didn’t want to pressure him too much, this would just make him even less approachable, but she needed him to understand her point. She needed him to give this place a chance.
All this time, he just stood there. Staring at the building in front of him, wanting to run. He knew his mother's goal of sending him here, but he didn't understand how it would achieve that in any way. It didn’t make sense to him, so he was angry. He felt immense anger and the urge to destroy every perfect little thing around him. He just hated it.
His mother gave him one last hug and said her goodbyes. He didn’t hug back. Then she turned and went straight to her car.
Now he was alone. He knew, he had no choice but to enter, he couldn’t just run away, where would he go? So, he slowly approached the building. It was getting larger and larger, towering over him as if it wanted to swallow him whole.
His mother was doing him a favour by leaving him to enter alone now. He couldn’t handle two adults trying to talk to his senses now. When he reluctantly stepped inside the big entrance area, his eyes involuntarily went a little wider, but not because of admiration.
The inside looked even greater, more marvellous than the outside. The ceilings were remarkably high, and curved stairs made their way up to the upper floors with thick railways decorated with ornaments. The floor, walls, and ceiling were made of white and black marble.
Now he could see the students up close: The school uniform consisted of either a black or white blazer, and different shirts for underneath. He spotted white blouses, standard white shirts, light grey and blue jumpers with a V-neck as well as several pieces, he didn’t even know the name of.
The anger from before was overtaken by an immense urge to vomit.
"This must be it,” he chuckled, “hell.”