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mrsparrasblog · 6 months

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Highscool AU CoD Pt1

1 September 1990

Pt2

SIMON'S POV

"Your son will never be anything proper if he keeps going to that snob school," my father screamed at my mother as usual. It wasn’t like I wanted to go to that damn boarding school anyway; I didn't want to leave Tommy alone with my dad.

"He's got a full ride scholarship. Do you know how much money we're saving?" No costs for food for me, no hockey equipment, nothing; it was all paid for just so I could play hockey at this damn school.

"He's still with all these trust fund brats. These kids grow up with a silver spoon in their lives, he gets messed up and thinks he can study and do other crap."

"Jim, fuck off. Your son is going to be a hockey player, for fuck's sake."

I left the kitchen, walking back to my room, packing the last things I needed before taking the train to Exeter. The uniform mom bought me was two sizes too big. She said I would fit into it soon, but it wouldn't help my case that no one in this school wanted to talk to the scholarship boy. I just wanted to go to a normal school in Manchester, hang out with my mates, watch football with them, and not do hockey. I didn't want to become a professional ice hockey player, but I also didn’t want to disappoint mom, so hockey it is.

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The train would leave in 10 minutes. My family and I already stood at the rail.

"I'm going to write you, Tommy, and I'll come back most weekends." Tommy clung to my legs, desperate for me not to leave again like last time. I knew dad would probably beat Tommy up again for being so emotional.

"Dad."

"Son."

We only nodded at each other, and then mom hugged me tight, not wanting to let go of me. I walked inside the train, searching for an empty compartment. Hopefully, there was no one from my school on this train. I needed this time to prepare myself for the hell I would endure for the next year.

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I arrived at Exeter. The bus took me to my home for the next year: Northbridge Academy.

Around the gate stood all sorts of cars. Most students got driven here instead of taking the train like I did. Their cars would make dad fuss again about how posh this place is. Ferraris, Porsches, and Bugattis were the cars of the poorer students. They would probably laugh about Dad's Honda Civic.

My stomach growled. I knew it wouldn’t get food until the evening today in the mess hall. It was like a sort of ritual welcoming the first years, introducing them, mostly telling what their parents did for a living and which sport they would do in this school. I remembered last year when I was introduced: "Simon Riley. Mom's a nurse, and Dad's unemployed. He will join the ice hockey team."

At that point, I knew I would get bullied after hearing all the things about the other students in my year. There was one scholarship boy too, Johnny. I thought we would be friends, but because of him being the goalie of our football team, everyone loved him despite his parents only being farmers. Of course, he befriended Kyle, the most popular guy around. He was filthy rich and posh. The girls all fancied him. He played as a striker, and rumors said that he would, after graduating his A levels, play for Arsenal.

"Sod off, Riley. Go back to where you belong, mud," Tiffany said as she spat on me. Tiffany was the most popular girl, but rather than Kyle, she wasn’t nice. She was mean and hated my guts, always telling me their family worked hard to achieve this place at Northbridge Academy, while I got it gifted. So she made me deserve it in other ways by bullying me with her little girls squad. But who cared?

A giant approached me, giving me a handkerchief and speaking in the most broken English I've ever heard. "Are you okay, little one?"

"Yes, it's okay, mate." He only nodded and went away.

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I sat back in my class and listened to Ms. Lawson, our class teacher, telling us all about this year's classes.

"Let me introduce you to a new girl in the class. Come on, Ms. König," she smiled at a girl who shyly walked in front of the whole class with a batch of red velvet cookies in her hand.

She is incredibly beautiful, but she is a trust fund baby like everyone else. I could already see it; she wore a Chanel bow wrapped inside her blonde curly hair. She was taller than me by several inches; she was at least 5'3" while I only reached 4'11". But I'll be tall like my Dad someday, hopefully. She was a bit different than the other rich girls, though.

She wasn’t as skinny as them; she was a bit chubby. I never saw the problem in being chubby, but my classmates always made fun of chubby girls. Poor girl won't survive a second in this hell. The teacher told us that her Dad was the founder and CEO of Kortac. I didn’t know what this was, but judging by the way my classmates gasped, she must be filthy rich.

"Hello, I'm Elisabeth. Um, I moved to Cardiff with my brother and my mom. I was born in Vienna, Austria. I do ballet, gymnastics, and I like to bake," she smiled.

"Well, we see that she likes baking," Tiffany whispered to Laurie, both of the girls giggling.

"You should probably be nice to her, Tiff. Mom told me about Kortac," Jilian said, and Tiffany nodded. I didn’t know what Kortac was, but it sounded like something not good.

Elisabeth walked towards the back of the class, sitting at the table next to me. What just happened? She smiled at me, reaching out with her hands towards me. It took two minutes till I grabbed it and shook it. "I'm Simon."

"I'm Elisabeth. Do you want a cookie?" She smiled and almost stuffed the red velvet cookie in my mouth. It was delicious, like an explosion in my mouth. This was so nice from her; she probably didn’t know that it would be her social ruin being friends with me. Slow fantasies about having a friend in this school crept up inside my head. It was unrealistic, but a nice thought; even if she was a girl, better than nothing, right? She was nice, and her cookies were good.

"Thank you for the cookies."

"I'll always feed everyone."

"You should never feed a stray dog," I joked. If she only knew her cookie was the first thing I ate in two days.

"Hm, but I like collecting stray dogs," she laughed. A friend. I had a friend. I couldn’t mess this up.

The girls' squad approached us; they probably would humiliate me, and then she starts to laugh at me.

"König? You should probably reconsider your taste in friends; this mutt here is on a scholarship basis here." God, how I hated Tiffany.

"Oh, I think I'll have great taste in friends. I mean, I'm not friends with you," Elisabeth smiled. She looked so sweet, and now she was protecting me in front of Tiffany. My new friend was a feisty one.

"He is poor, don’t you understand?" Tiffany scoffed, disgusted.

"What do your parents do, Tiffany?" and for a second, I was afraid she is now influenced by the 5'5 tall skinny Louis Vuitton-wearing cunt.

"My father is a plastic surgeon, and my mother is a lawyer," Tiffany chimed proudly, only earning a laugh from Elisabeth.

"This explains why you can only afford Louis Vuitton. So, Tiffany, my Dad is richer four times than your family, so I'm more than rich enough for Simon and me together. So please leave before I punch your smug face." Her eyelashes fluttered, and a mischievous grin spread across her face. While Tiffany walked away furious, earning us the glances of Kyle's squad.

"Sorry about that. I'm normally nicer; I just don’t like bullies."

"Don’t apologize; that was bloody brilliant."

"So, Simon, which sport do you do?"

"Ice hockey."

"Wow, I loved ice skating as a kid."

"Why ballet then and not figure skating?" I asked her, curious. She would make a great figure skater; she walks so elegantly and doesn’t slop.

"School provides only partner figure skating, and I'm a bit too heavy for that," I didn’t want to agree with her; I would probably struggle picking her up. But I couldn’t even carry 25 pounds. Coach told me I need to work on my strength this month, before I could react and try to say something nice, something weird happened.

"Awright, I'm John Mactavish, mah loue," John never associated with me, and now he comes to my table to speak with my new friend.

"I'm sorry, John; my English, I don’t understand you," she looks at him with apologetic puppy eyes.

"Ah, sorry, I'm Scottish, but if you’d like some tutoring, I'd be available, Ellie?"

“Don’t listen to MacTavish; he almost failed English last year,” I remarked snarky. Normally, I tried to down my sarcasm at this school, make myself as small as possible, but alone, her laugh was worth making myself noticeable.

"Shut up, mate, you're destroying my chances with Ellie."

"I hate nicknames," she grumbled.

"We'll see about that, Bonnie."

"Elisabeth, not Bonnie."

Sure, here's the corrected version:

"You're funny, hen," he laughed before walking away.

"Is everyone so intense here?"

"Yes."

"You don’t talk much, do you?"

"Not really."

"So, I think we will have a great friendship," she smiled at me, and maybe this year won't be hell after all.

"How come you can call me 'Si' but don’t allow nicknames?"

"Because I'm pretty and funny, Si," she pointed her tongue at me playfully.

"Pretty, yes, funny, no, Lizzie," she blushed as I called her pretty; the pink on her cheeks looked cute. Wait, what am I thinking?

"Really, Lizzie?"

"Yes, Lizzie."

After the feast and for the first time in this school not sitting alone eating, I went to the male dorms. Last year, I shared my dorm with a bunch of older guys from the team; this year, I got new dorm partners. I walked into dorm 13B and read the paper on top of it.

Garrick - Perfect. Kyle the jock was in the room.

MacTavish - Even worse than Kyle.

Riley

Volkov

König- Wait, isn’t that Lizzy's last name? But she is a girl, right? She looked like a girl, at least.

Price - He once punched a bully in the face, so he was nice, I guess.

I walked inside the room, seeing that everyone was already unpacking their stuff in the bunk.

Kyle's corner was full of his football trophy and posters of Arsenal London; he took the most place in the closet he shared with Johnny. Of course, he was one of the wealthiest kids in this school; his parents owned several newspapers, shops, and his mother was the heiress of British Petroleum.

Johnny's corner was messy, the wall full of little doodles. I never knew he'd like to draw so much; most of his normal clothes were full of paint stains. It kinda made him more sympathetic.

Nik and Price shared a bunk, like I'd thought; their side was full of posters from Nirvana, Guns N' Roses, and Metallica. Nik's father was the CEO of Aeroflot, so the little plane model didn’t surprise me. John's parents were a curse; his father was on the way to becoming the Prime Minister of England, making the press watch every move of him.

I decorated my room with some ice hockey posters and a picture of me and Tommy; I needed to write him a letter, or else he thinks I've forgotten him. The door opened, and the nice giant from earlier walked inside; this must have been Lizzy's brother and my bunkmate now.

"Hallo," he said awkwardly, ducking his head under the frame. He must be over 6ft tall; I wondered how old he is.

"That's König, mates. He isn’t very good with his English, so fuck off if you complain about his accent," Price commanded; he was like his dad, a natural leader.

"Man, how tall are you?" Johnny asked, curious and, of course, he didn’t know any social clues, idiot.

"1.88 meters."

"That's 6'2" Nikolai explained, knowing the metric system because of his Russian heritage.

I just closed my eyes, ignoring the banter of my roommates, finally falling asleep in that uncomfortable bed.

I woke up in the middle of the night by a cry from under me; that's awkward. I never knew how to react in this situation, especially if a 6'2" guy cries.

"Shh, Elli, es ist nur ein Traum. Ich passe auf dich auf. Sie finden dich nicht; du bist sicher, okay?" (It's just a dream; I'll protect you. They won't find you; you're safe.) It wasn’t his cry; it was Lizzy's. That made it only worse; I didn’t know if I could say or do anything, so I only listened to her sobs, like the weak boy I was. Dad was right; I am useless. I have a friend for one day, but when she is upset, I'm hiding in my bed, listening to her cry like a bloody coward.

The next morning, I went to the mess hall, sitting down next to Lizzie. I had a table now; I was finally inside of it.

"Ach du scheiße—what are you eating?"

"Uh, beans with toast and hash browns."

"That's disgusting," she sniffed.

"Did you even try it?"

"No."

"So why do you think it's disgusting?"

"It looks funky, and breakfast should be a hot roll with some homemade jam or maybe a butter pretzel."

"That sounds German."

"Austrian."

"So why are you eating cereal then?"

"They looked funny," she gestured at her fruit loops and smiled at the bright colors, giving me the spoon so I could taste it. It was an unfamiliar gesture, and she kinda behaved differently than the other rich girls; she behaved carelessly.

"Aye, scoot over, Simon," Johnny sat down at our table with his tray full of sausages and eggs, taking Kyle with him. Both sat down next to us; I felt like I was stuck in a parallel universe.

It got even worse when König, Nik, and John joined the table, making our table completely full. I didn’t like the new size of our friend group. Yesterday, I had only Lizzie, and now I'm stuck with five blokes.

"I'm John Price, by the way," he took Lizzie's hand and gave her a handkiss, making her blush and giggle, while König gave him a death glare. "No touching my sister."

"So, König, which football club do you like?" Kyle asked.

"FC Bayern München, you?" the giant answered.

"Arsenal will play for it someday," Kyle said proudly.

"Manchester United."

"Aye, Celtic FC."

"Of course, a Scottish club," I muttered.

"They're great."

"Tottenham Hotspur," John said proudly, and everyone besides Lizzie started to laugh.

"Mate, no, that's embarrassing."

"Shut it, Garrick."

"If I play for Arsenal, I'll beat Tottenham every day."

"You sure will," John rolled his eyes.

"Elli? Do you fancy a club?"

"I don’t like football."

"What the fuck?" everyone shouted at once.

"It's not hard; it's boring. Try gymnastics or ballet; that's a real sport, and not something where you whine because someone crossed you, stealing your ball," Johnny's and Kyle's faces fell down; how dare she insult their precious sport. It was actually funny how she had all her opinions and was never afraid to spit them out.

"You can come and watch my next rugby game; that's a real sport," John winked at her.

"No flirting with my sister, no touching my sister, no dating my sister until 18," König looked at John with his intimidating facial expression, ready to tower over all of us.

"Eighteen is a bit too early. Oh no, I never date at all; I'll grow old with a bunch of kittens," she smiled while fiddling with her bow in her hand.

"That's a loss for me, hen," poor Johnny will probably get beaten up by the end of the year if he doesn’t stop flirting.

"Why is your bow not in your hair, Lizzie?"

"Tiffany made fun of it, and she was right; it's childish."

"Du liebst deine Schleife?" (You love your bow?) Without a word, I stood up and took her bow and placed it on top of her head. This bow was probably more worth than my mom's paycheck, but still. She is my friend, so I need to be there for her like she protected me yesterday.

"Tiffany is a cunt; you want that bow, you wear that bow." The table agreed with my comment and enjoyed their food.

"What's your next subject, Si?"

"Chemistry."

"Me too," she said and grabbed my hand, pulling me with her to the next class.

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