I've always hated the expression "Write what you know."
Back at the dormitory, Saturday sits by his brown wooden desk, typing on his black typewriter, Thing on the table next to it. He was in his comfortable long black jacket and black and white striped shirt, obsidian eyes starring intently at his work.
The typewriter dings as he rips the paper out, scrunching it, unsatisfied with his work.
The boy puts it on the table and Thing, the big, stitched, severed hand flicks it into the black trashcan.
It's a hall pass for the imagination-impaired.
He puts his right hand to his face, thinking.
His right hand then swiftly reaches down and grabs the torn painting of a silhouette of him burning down the school- half of the painting. He holds the page between his long black nail-polished fingers. Thing stands on the table, propped up by his five fingers, looking intently at Saturday.
But when your life becomes a twisted mystery...
Saturday suddenly notices a round skull-like symbol on the top right corner of the page.
maybe it's time to lean into it.
☟☟☟
Saturday abruptly flings open one of the double doors to Principle Weem's study, black slate in hand, in his black and grey striped blazer, black tie and trousers and ironed white shirt. Misaki trails behind him into the room.
"I need to speak with Rowan. I can't find him." he demands of the Principal, who, with a soft green suit and tie, with an ironed white shirt and gold rimmed, black strapped watch was sitting in front of his silver macbook, on his black leather chair.
"It won't be possible, I'm afraid. He's been expelled." returned the handsome white-blonde man, nonchalantly, not bothering to look at his student.
"For what?" questions Saturday cooly.
The man continues typing, not looking at the boy.
"Never you mind. He'll be on the first train out this afternoon."
The Principal stops typing and looks directly into the young boy's eyes.
"What were you doing out in the woods with him in the first place?" he enquires.
"I told you already. I heard a noise, and I went to investigate." the boy says to the man, emotionlessly.
His Principal scoffs.
"That excuse might have placated the Sheriff, but you can't fool me." he reprimands the young boy.
He then smiles gently at the girl beside the tall, lean boy. "Hello, dear."
Returning his attention to Saturday, he says, rather cooly, "You had a psychic vision, didn't you?"
Saturday returns his cool gaze coldly.
"I realized you might be having them when we passed by the accident and you knew that poor farmer had broken his neck. Your Father started having visions around your age. They were notoriously unreliable and dangerous. I remember at first, he thought he might be losing his mind. Have you spoken to him about them?" the man said all of this very slowly and calmly.
Saturday could not meet his gaze.
"Clearly the person withholding information here is you." challenges Principal Weems.
"May I go now?" asks the pale boy. His maid looks from her Principal to her young Master, unsure of what to do, trapped in-between.
"Not until you two have picked your extracurricular activity." says the man brightly, smoothly changing the topic, smiling that irresistible smile, showing his white teeth. "We want our students to be well-rounded."
"I prefer to remain sharp-edged." retorted the tall, black haired, pale boy, in his delicious deep voice, crossing his arms.
"Thank you very much, Principal Weems." returns the soft and gracious voice of Misaki.
The white-blonde man smiles fondly at the young girl.
"I took the liberty of putting together a list of clubs that have openings." he pulled forward a black clipboard, placing it in front of his macbook.
"How thoughtful." says Saturday expressionlessly.
"You two need to have picked one by the end of the day." returns Principal Weems.
His gaze pierces through Saturday. "I'll be keeping my eye on you." he warns.
"No doubt you two will find something that tickles your fancy." he smiles.
"The last person who tickled me lost a finger." says Saturday coldly, grabbing the clipboard and stalking out, with his maid trailing behind him, long, black, braids swaying.
Principal Weems smiles warily at their backs.
☟☟☟
The choir practices scales in the distance as Saturday, Thing and Misaki stands in an empty stone hallway.
"Weems is clearly trying to keep tabs on me." he looks down at the large, pale hand. "Keep an eye on Rowan. Don't let your fingers out fo his sight." he orders Thing.
Thing scuttles away while Saturday and Misaki walk out another way, out of the stone corridors.
♪ We got scales on scales on scales on scales on scales on scales ♪
Saturday and Misaki walk past a sign written in gold that says: QUIET! 'PITCH SLAPS' REHEARSAL IN PROGRESS
They see a group of students standing in the middle of the quad, next to the fountain with the dead tree.
♪ On scales on scales on scales ♪
Bianco Barclay was in front of the group of all male students, conducting the choir.
He frowned when he saw the tall pale boy in black and grey approach him.
"Weems said you'd be stopping by." he says, eyeing the lean but muscular boy in front of him carefully.
"But to be honest, after your performance at the Harvest Festival, the drama club might be more your speed." he says smoothly at the tall pale boy.
His face breaks out into a smirk as he sees Misaki.
"We welcome your little maid though." he drawls, sliding a dark finger smoothly on her pale chin, lifting her face up towards his.
Saturday slapped his hand away from his maid's face.
"After I passed out, who did you tell? The sheriff?" he enquired quietly, in his deep voice.
"You think I'd trust normie cops?" the black skinned, blue eyed boy lifted an eyebrow as he frowned in concern. "I went straight to Weems and let him handle it." The siren changed the topic. "You're awfully protective of her, but I wonder who she'll chose in the end? Me? Or you?" He smirks arrogantly. "Anyway, let's get this audition over with. Uh, what are you? Alto, soprano or just loco?" he furrowed his eyebrows at Saturday as a blonde haired boy moved to sit at the electronic piano.
He chuckles with the choir.
The boy at the piano plays a note. Saturday inhales. He opened his luscious lips but no audible sound came out.
The pianist's glasses shattered.
The blonde boy frowned and took them off. "Huh?"
In Principle Weem's study, a glass covering of a model head (coloured in black) cracked. The man looked at it with concern.
Bianco frowned. "What was that?" he asked Saturday with his smooth deep voice.
"A note only dogs can hear." the boy returned matter-of-factly.
"When's the last time you saw your roommate Rowan?" Saturday enquired the handsome siren.
"You mean the one who you thought was killed by a monster?" scoffs Bianco. "The Harvest Festival. I haven't talked to him since. But his side of the room was all packed this morning. Rowan's always been lazy and a little off, but, uh, the last couple weeks he's been more erratic. You know, telekinesis can mess with you head. He's...It started to freak me out."
Saturday and Misaki walked away from the choir as they start harmonising to the tune of "Don't Worry Be Happy."
They could hear the deep bass start vocalising as they walked further away, the boys snapping their fingers and swaying from side to side.
The acapella scatting started.
Xaveria draws a bow, ready to hit one of three targets.
♪ Here's a little song I wrote ♪
The soloist sings.
Principle Weems stalks to his big panelled window and looks out, scanning his students.
♪ You might want to sing it note for note ♪
♪ Don't worry ♪
Saturday stalks to where Xaveria is, as she stretches out her bow, Misaki standing behind them.
She lets go of the arrow and it lands on the target, though quite a bit away from its red centre.
♪ Be happy... ♪
Saturday looks cooly and nonchalantly at the target two white sleeved hands on the clipboard held at his side.
"Huh. You actually showed up. Ever shot a bow and arrow before?" Xaveria asked the tall, pale, black haired boy. "Hi." she waved at Misaki. The petite maid bowed her head in return.
"Only on live targets." replied the pale boy, looking at the girl with shoulder length brown hair in a ponytail and navy zip-up hoodie, slender blue bow in hand.
Xaviera made a motion with her eyebrows and looked away. "Okay."
"Square stance. Load the arrow like this, yellow side out. Three fingers. Pull back and..." she showed the tall pale boy as the arrow flew and landed on the target, missing the red centre. "let it fly. Any questions?" she turned her head to look at Saturday.
Saturday gave her a look. She took another yellow arrow and prepared to shoot.
"So what's the deal with you and Taylor?" she asks, not looking at him. The arrow hits the target again but not the red centre.
She turns to look at him. "I'm sorry, but I'm not the only one who wants to ask non-archery questions here was I?"
☟☟☟