Excerpt: The Woods of Daft

The Woods of Daft

“Rule number one,” the man behind the desk began, “don’t go into the woods.” He leaned forward, even thought he’d only just sat down and reclined. “This is no joke,” he said sternly, placing his hands on the desk and leaning farther forward still. “This is not a rule that the students dare each other to break,” how could he lean that far forward and still be sitting? “This is not a rule punished by detention, but suspension,” now he was standing and leaning so far across the desk that falling over it had become a distinct possibility. “This is a rule enforced by the staff as if breaking it were a sin. This is a rule firmly obeyed by students and staff alike. This is not a rule to be broken. Do not go into the woods, understand Miss Leroux?”
Miss Leroux did not speak, but merely nodded. This seemed like the response the principle was looking for, because he pushed himself hard up from the desk and was sitting in his chair again. Now he seemed far away.
“Rule number two, do not wander the halls after lights out except if you are going to or coming from the bathroom. Otherwise stay in your dormitory. Rule three, attend all your classes unless you are ill or hurt and have the nurse’s permission to miss a class. No pets, no food or drink in the classrooms or dorm rooms, no street clothes during the week.
“Those are really the main rules, the rest are here in the student guide,” he placed a small green book on his desk between them. “You will receive all your text books tomorrow, that will be your first day of classes. Today you just need to settle in. This is your schedule,” a piece of thin paper on top of the guide, “and here’s a map,” a thick piece of paper with the rest. “A student from your English class I believe is coming to show you around, tell you how to get to your classes, the cafeteria, and your dorm. They should be here any minu-ah! Perfect timing.”
The principle rose heavily from his chair and scuffled quickly to the office door. The knocker was a boy, fair skinned and dark haired, wearing a navy blazer and trousers with black shined shoes and derby-like hat as a uniform. He had a hall pass clipped to the lapel of his blazer, a small yellow tag that stuck out at an odd angle.
“Ah, Thomas, good man,” the principle smiled widely, ushering Thomas just into the room. “I’m glad you’ve been sent to show this new student around, Miss Leroux if you please,” he motioned for Miss Leroux to join them beside the door, and she obeyed, standing and soundlessly walking over to Thomas and the principle. “This is David Thomas, I will be sending you off in his care. Thomas, please show Miss Leroux around.”
“Yes, sir,” the boy nodded, his eyes flitting disinterestedly toward the girl but once.
“Right then, off your go,” the principle smiled widely, pushing the student guide and papers into Miss Leroux’s hands. “And Charlotte, welcome to Weston Cainbridge Academy.” With that, the children were ushered out of the office. There was a moment of awkward silence, in which Charlotte stared at David, and David at Charlotte.
“So-” Charlotte began, about to ask a question. But then David turned away.
“Come on,” he sighed, sounding entirely apathetic. Charlotte had to jog to catch up. She didn’t really keep beside him so much as just behind him, ever trying to keep pace with his quick stride.
David made very short work of the tour, asking for Charlottes schedule and map. He walked her swiftly by each room in proper order; math, science, history, English, music and physical education. As they passed each door, David marked it off on the map, saying little more than the name of the instructor. Then they went back down to the first floor, where David showed her the nurse’s office and infirmary, the teachers offices and finally the cafeteria.
Here, David finally stopped and looked to Charlotte for the first time all day. “That’s it. Lunch will be soon and then I have to go to class, you’ll be on your own. Get familiar with the grounds, but don’t go near the trees,” he warned, echoing the all important Rule Number One.
“But…” Charlotte protested weakly as David walked off toward the kitchens. He glanced back at her, brows raised, slightly surprised that there would be something else that he was needed for.
“Oh!” he laughed lightly, realizing what he had forgotten, “sorry.” He handed Charlotte her papers and book before again turning towards the prospect of being the first in line for food.
“No…um,” Charlotte faltered again, taking the papers nonetheless.
“What?” David sighed, turning again to the girl from halfway across the cafeteria.
“You never showed me my dorm,” Charlotte pointed out somewhat timidly.
“Oh,” David simply pointed up towards the ceiling, “top floor, girls wing,” he said as he turned, jabbing a few times at the ceiling for emphasis. And then he was as good as gone, ignoring Charlotte from across the room as he was first to receive lunch from the kitchen staff. Charlotte stood alone and quiet for some time, not sure where to go or what to do next.
Somewhere far away a bell echoed a single long lonely chime. Then something like a small avalanche could be heard overhead; Charlotte looked up to the ceiling, trying to figure out what that dull thunder meant. Then she heard the voices, gliding along the large corridors ahead of their speakers: students. It was lunch time now, and soon the cafeteria, cavernous though it was, would be filled with that very same avalanche.
Charlotte got the impression that it would be a good idea to move out of the way, and quickly did so as she saw the first group of girls coming down the staircase at the end of the hall. Quickly following suit, Charlotte copied David and moved forward to the lunch line, moving soundlessly as she always had across through the clutter of tables and chairs. She was at the kitchens window when that first group of girls entered the cafeteria from the far doors.
They didn’t pause to inspect the room, but plowed straight through the tables toward the lunch line, for some reason glaring at Charlotte as they came. Did these girls not like her already? The one in front has curly red hair, pale skin, a smattering of freckles, and dark acidy green eyes. She looked about Charlotte’s age; maybe they were in some class together or shared a dormitory.
The girls to either side of this red head seemed very minion-like; there was a skinny one with pursed lips, chopped mousy brown hair, and watery grey eyes that seemed too old to be in her head. Another had her very long black hair in pigtails, which was fitting because she had a chubby face and an upturned nose that reminded Charlotte of the snout of a pig. Her mean amber eyes seemed electrifying as she glared at the new girl, and indeed it was her stare alone that provided much of the supporting power of the group glare.
They had in front of Charlotte and seemed to be sizing her up, knowing she was obviously knew because she was still in her street clothes on a school day. But then the red head dropped her glare, trading it for a more annoyed look, crossing her arms and tapping her foot. She raised her eyebrows at Charlotte expectantly. Charlotte looked around, everyone else seemed to be giving her that same look; and by now there was a rather large group of students clustered around the three girls at the front.
“Well?” the red head asked peevishly. Her voice was young, she must have been in Charlotte’s year, and bossy, as though she were used to people knowing what she wanted them to do and then having them do it.
“Well what?” Charlotte managed, holding tight to her map and guide as she spoke, feeling smaller than usual under so many eyes.
“Are you going to get your lunch?” the girl with pigtails barked angrily, reminding Charlotte uncomfortably of a drill sergeant.
“Oh,” Charlotte’s eye widened as she realized she was indeed at the front of the line. “S-sorry,” she muttered, turning picking up a tray. Only she wasn’t hungry, and she didn’t really see much that appraised her. The ladies in hair nets behind the kitchen windows smiled comfortingly at her, offering her spoonfuls of lumpy mashed potatoes or a slice of some dry meat; but she turned it all down, taking only an apple at the end of the line after hearing the three girls behind her giggling cruelly about people who wasted other people’s time, or were rude enough to hold people up for no reason.
“There you are dear,” the shaky old woman smiled as she gave the girl the fruit she asked for, “enjoy.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Charlotte mumbled, turning slightly pink as she took the apple from the woman’s gloved hand. She had wanted to get something at least to make it seem like she had had a purpose for being in the line in the first place; but now that she had the apple Charlotte wished she could have just left the line. It was red on one side, but had been hiding an oddly shaped bruise on the other that made the fruit’s skin crack, sending gooey browning juices trickling down Charlotte’s hand.
“Yeah, enjoy,” the red head laughed, pushing Charlotte out of the way as she slid into her place and began pestering the woman to examine every piece of fruit until a satisfactory one was found. Charlotte turned away as the girls laughed at her and continued harassing the lunch lady, she gazed around at the clutter of tables that were filled by friends waiting for other friends in the line; saving them seats in return for their saved spot along the windows. Already there was no place to sit, no room for a new comer to this established order of territory and rank.
So Charlotte decided to go outside. She simply followed a narrow hallway until she came to a door that looked weatherproofed enough to lead to something other than a classroom. And indeed, the creaky door, when opened, led her to the back steps of the main building. The steps were semi-protected by a long and low hanging awning that had seen much better days, but still offered shade and hopefully dryness when the rains picked up in winter; for now though all it needed to keep off was sunlight, which wasn’t as heavy as rain and therefore did not damage the awning tarp any further.
Charlotte sat on the top step, the door still open behind her, and leaned against the frame. She looked down at her apple, which seemed to be falling apart even more; Charlotte realized, because she was squeezing it so tightly out of fear or anger or embarrassment. Maybe all three, and then some. With a sigh, Charlotte relaxed her grip on the apple, then suddenly tightened it again, drew her arm back, and threw it as far as she could into the back field. All at once she heard several scurried noises in the grass follow the flying apple to meet it at its destination among the slightly unkempt grass. There must have been field mice, though Charlotte could see none despite hearing them so violently scuttle through the grass just now.
It seemed they had been creeping up to her curiously, until she threw the apple and they had revealed that their true curiosity was for the fruit, not the girl holding the fruit. Charlotte sighed again, tucking her knees up under her chin and watching the grass for any sign of the little critters. She spotted one after a few minutes silent searching; a little blue fellow that scurried away from the apple back towards the wall of the building.
Charlotte blinked, staring intently at the mouse. Was it really blue? No. It was white, so white that the shade of the awning cast a funny shadow across it that made it seem blue. What a silly mistake to make. But still, it was the most interesting thing that had happened all day, those few seconds of wondering, and so Charlotte kept her eyes on the not blue mouse, studying him farther. After a while Charlotte realized that, though this mouse acted like a mouse, and had some mouse-like features, he didn’t seem to be a regular mouse.
There were brief seconds when he stood and took a few steps on just his back legs, like humans walk, or scratched his head ponderingly, like Charlotte had seen adults do when something confused them. He was bigger than a regular field mouse, not exactly fat though, with shorter limbs and tiny claws, and large, large, large liquid black eyes. He was funny, this little not blue, not a mouse.