The Falling

Chapter Two- The Fart & A Very Generous Man

Terrified screams ring throughout the uneasily empty hallway as baron as a desert. The tortured cries echo off of the square grey tiles and metal lockers lining the halls with the same acoustics as a theater. 

The rectangular bulbs hanging off of dangerous thin metal chains swing with the likes of jungle vines. The windows are long, thin and too high to reach from the ground. Neither the windows nor the lights do their job of illuminating the corridor.

“Help me!” a female voice screeches like a bird.

My pace quickens, my eyes narrow down on the open entry way into the hall. My vision blurs on the edges as the infringing nightmare looms over my head.

The new boy; Hamish; has short brown hair that looks like he just walked out of prison. His hardened expression barely helps.

His black sweat pants and tracksuit top are made of an expensive material and his black Adidas shoes are embellished with decorative gold lines and shoe laces. He looks like the Australian version of Drake. 

The new girl; Carolina; has her brown hair brushed into a perfect pony tail with not one stray hair. She wears a figure-hugging black shirt with lace sleeves and black and white floral leggings. Her outfit accents her small however curvy body. Her black sneaker-wedges are strapped, tied and ready for action. She walks as powerfully as Lara Croft from Tomb Raider walking away from an explosion but without the sweat. She’s sure to turn heads.

I flash back to our awkward introduction in the office.

Miss. Roberts voice drones on in her usual monotone voice.

“The five buildings that make up the school were all built in a straight line; in front of the buildings is a long patch of the lawn with dark green picnic tables, the canteen and the front office,” she explains attacking the school map pinned to the wall with her acrylic nails, “Behind the buildings hides a couple of broken down tennis courts, an oval and a brand new hall.’

‘The buildings consist of the arts area, the library, the science labs, the ICT/Mathematics Building and the Research Studies/Languages Building. Got it?”

Miss Roberts introduces, “This is Ali, they’re going to show you around. If you need anything you know where my office is.”

Miss Roberts turns on her thin red stiletto and lunges away, her blue pencil skirt on the verge of ripping.

“She’s got a lot to say for the religious coordinator,” Hamish remarks.

“OK you two are with me,” I repeat opening the door exiting into the schoolyard filled with trees and greenery.

“Yes, I’m adequately capable of following instructions without repetition,” she replies robotically.

I drag the unimpressed pair into the hall.

“There’s nothing like a game of dodge ball to liven up these dropkicks,” Mr. King booms, crouching intently to the side of the court, scrolling notes on his clipboard.

Mr. King’s white hair depicts him as a much older man from behind when in fact he’s just gone into his thirties. He’s legs are well toned and waxed smooth which is what won him the ‘Best Legs Award’ on the school’s blog. His reasonably flabby upper body which fills out a black Adidas t-shirt is a dark contrast.

I shuffle against the cool metal wall until I’m beside Mr. King. Carolina and Hamish follow along, eyes glued to the meadow of death laid out before us.