Pseudology

PART TWO: ad crescendum (Twelve)

EDITED 2/8/13

There was a soft, almost incoherent wind which whistled through the long grass as Adrian tilted his head back, smiling a little to himself as he felt the suns hot rays pelt down on him as he lay in the corn field. His grin faltered and fell into a straight line as he lay still, not bored but not quite entertained enough. His view was beautiful but it was mandatory; he’d seen it too many times before. He stretched out his arms, touching the frail grass with his fingertips, and wriggled his toes.

He wondered, briefly, if his friends were thinking about where he was.

It had never bothered Adrian that all of his friends were male. It was just a fact, when you lived in a single-sex private boarding school, and it was a fact that Adrian had long since learnt. He said ‘lived’ because he only went home for a week at Christmas and two weeks at Easter; he spent more time at school that he did at home, and in an odd way Adrian was quite glad this was the case.

He thought over his friends; there was Martin, who he’d first made friends with on the second day he was ill in bed in 1996 (the year Adrian remembered as being the year that he learnt about growing up and the year that Mummy died, but he didn’t like thinking about that) when Martin had brought dinner up for him. Then, there was Andrew Richards, an exuberantly loud boy who was a Form Prefect of Adrian and Martin’s class: his older brother was in Morton’s year and was notorious for being a bully. His last friend was Christopher, a boy who was so quiet that no one noticed him except Martin and Adrian. Adrian couldn’t decide whether he felt sorry for him or whether he envied him so greatly that he feared he’d turn green.

He couldn’t imagine any of his friends going to look for him, so he cast the thought from his mind as quickly as he could and sat up. Blood flushed to his head and his eyes momentarily unfocused, struggling to see past his eye lashes. Moments passed and Adrian swallowed, regaining his focus. He got up and steadied himself as though he had a cane, and pushed his curls away from his eyes so he could see. He adjusted his laces, wiped his eyes furiously with the back of his bony hand, and set off back to the school, across the corn fields which swayed gently in the breeze.

II

“Adrian!”

The voice crashed like thunder as he entered the common room, his ears splitting at the unattractive noises of the boys – no, creatures- around him. Animals paraded on show, moving furniture, its legs scraping the floor, wood screaming in pain! Windows were thrown open to let in cool air, now mixed with stuffy, suffocating heat. Boys ran around, their shoes polished but as they hammered the several centuries old floor, Adrian didn’t just care how clean they were. It was the loud, aggravating, shrieking noise that he minded.

“It’s too loud.” he muttered to himself as he stepped further into the room, closing the door gently behind him with the sole of his right shoe. He’d wanted to keep his keen eyes on the boys around him; if he could use his foot to shut the door, there was no need to turn around. Genius, he thought, yet the other’s haven’t realised I’ve entered the room.  

He saw Andrew’s hands wave above a small crowd of boys, and he made his way over to him. Andrew’s dark brown hair was stuck to his head with old sweat and his white polo-shirt was covered by his dark blue blazer adorned with the small badge of the Sports Colours. Sports Colours was a prestigious award given to sporty students who had proven their talent, and Andrew had been given the small red badge because of his running ability- he’d just been running, Adrian could tell, due to the heavy sweat on his forehead and the polo-shirt under his blazer. He was also wearing dark blue shorts with bright, white trainers which were splattered with mud from the Quad.