Ah Friday. I am very happy to see it. I have just had a strange week. Odd dreams featuring a surprising number of people who want me to fight to the death for entertainment purposes. I had variations of that three times this week. Not sure why but I would love to figure out what triggered it. As well as why the host doesn’t like me. In last night’s version he changed the answers when I got a question right so I would fail. And then I threw a can of soup at him. Anyway, on with the last prompt of the week. Then I will figure out how to defeat the evil game show host.
Not sure where this is going but I do want to think more about the Danforth Academy.
Friday, June 7th: Ian clattered down the stairs.
Ian clattered down the stairs. If he didn’t get a move on he would be late. He could not afford to be late. He had already received several warnings and today he knew that there was an assembly. While the headmaster would overlook tardiness in general as he found it too much bother to write students up for only a few minutes lateness when he had others with more direct rule breaking to target, Ian knew that assembly days were different.
Today there would be an outsider in their midst and the headmaster would think that tardiness when they had a guest was unacceptable. Ian felt his bag bump against the small of his back as he fairly flew through the door, taking only enough of a pause to close and lock it behind him. With the door secure he pelted down the steps and raced down the sidewalk. He slid into place at the end of the queue to board just as the bus opened it’s doors.
“Cutting it fine Ian,” Dave called. He grinned.
Dave was the only person he knew who had more tardies to his name. ‘Looks like we both made it,” Ian said as he dropped into his seat. Dave’s hair was windswept and Ian could see he was still trying to catch his breath. Dave may have beaten him to the bus stop but it hadn’t been by much.
“Assembly day,” Dave said. He took out his comb and tried to settle his hair into something more presentable for class while Ian finished knotting his tie and straightening it. As he did, he tried to remember who today’s speaker was. The headmaster loved getting in experts to lecture them about their various topics. Sometimes they were interesting, other times not. There was almost always a benefit for the school involved. A donation to the library or an addition to the science wing. Sometimes the person doing the lecturing was there for a political photo op.
“Who’s the lecturer?” Ian asked.
“Baby kisser,” Dave said.
Ian nodded and dug his own comb out of his bag. Politicians meant a slew of photographers as they were photographed giving back to the community. The headmaster wanted the boys to look presentable in photos. Ian was fairly laid back about his appearance, but on polititian themed assembly days he could get detention for a sloppy appearance just as easily as he could for tardiness. Like most of the boys he kept a comb in his bag specifically for such days.
As he looked around he could see that the rest of the normally hastily thrown together outfits on his classmates were smartened up.
‘Should have known,’ he thought. Ian finished his minor beautification efforts and slid the comb back in his bag as the bus rattled on. There were two more stops after his and then the bus turned and headed straight for the academy. Ian had been a Danforth boy for three years now. Not by choice of course. No ne went to the Danforth academy by choice.
Ten til Midnight 