The Atrophy of Clementine Darlington

II | Welcome to Aldergrove Academy

          Clementine rolled his eyes as more than half the class hooted and hollered. He was well educated in all these people's beliefs—he had to be in order to get into the academy, but he thought it was all nonsense. While the rich and entitled fought over their right to live in a cruelty-free world, the people where Clementine had come from were slowly withering away in a dying cesspool with not even a slither of hope that they might get the same opportunities.

          How barbaric, some might think—to risk death trying to earn the right to live in a very small section of the world that hadn't become a wasteland or a lawless hellhole. But to some, death probably seemed better than heading back home. The New World promised wealth, comfort, and things people like Clementine could have only ever dreamed of. If he were actually here to try and get into the New World, he'd definitely be willing to risk his life for it.

          "Now," Warren called, leaning back against his desk. "Today, we start with the history of Aldergrove. Who birthed this sacred land? Who ruled, lost, and fought for it?"

          With a quiet sigh, Clementine stared aimlessly. The morning was going to drag on.

          When Warren's lecture came to its eventual end, the class started filing out the door. Clementine stayed in his seat, reaching into his trouser pocket. He pulled out a gold pocket watch to see that it was three minutes past eleven—it was time for his meds.

          He got up, pulled his backpack from under his seat, and navigated his way down the stairs to the classroom floor. Once he'd followed the rest of the students out, he made his way through the crowded, gloomy corridors, and barged his way into the closest bathroom.

          Inside one of the two stalls, he locked the door and pulled the toilet seat down, which he sat on. He rummaged around inside his bag, locating a silver fountain pen. Carefully, he unscrewed its top, and inside, there was no ink, but a line of his small, white pills instead. He knew he'd end up needing to take a few with him—he wasn't always going to be able to get back to his dorm when it was time to take them and missing a dose would burden him with the awful, persistent symptoms of his sickness.

          Clementine tipped the pen back, letting one of the pills fall into his hand, and as he placed it on his tongue and swallowed, he sighed quietly and leaned his head back against the wall.

          The bathroom door then creaked open. Clementine sat up, a shiver of angst slithering down his spine. He hadn't been caught, but the fear of doing so possessed him for a moment.

          "Brent deserved it," came the voice of one of the boys that had come into the bathroom.

          The clicking of balmoral shoes against the marble floor indicated there were either three or four of them, and where Clementine might usually just get up and leave without so much as a glare, he couldn't do that here. There were more of them than him, and everyone knew that wandering around alone here made it more likely you'd not see tomorrow. So he waited.

          "Who do you think did it?" came another voice over the sound of several streams of urine splashing against vitreous china.

          "She's a seelie; it could have been anyone."

          "Looked like a dog got her."

          "If you ask me, I'd say it was one of the Gibbous Bloods."

          One of them scoffed. "Please. My father says they're the most cowardly of all the wolf walkers here this year."

          "I heard their Alpha is a highly respected council member in the New World, though."