@sauntercd is getting a plotted starter!
Tadfield Comprehensive, also known as Shitstain, also known as Hellhole, also known as the Bedlam of Oxfordshire, loomed at the end of the Endless Summer and was, therefore, another reason NOT to let the Endless Summer come to its paradoxical conclusion.
Adam Young was determined to live it to the fullest: invent ninety-nine new flavours of ice cream, play Charles Fort Discovering Things every day, eat lunch under the big linden tree in Wensleydaleβs garden, and just stay eleven years old Forever and Ever because being eleven was great.
This had been the greatest summer of all so far. The Them had finally settled on their grim moniker, bequeathed upon them by outsiders, to be their name once and for all; on the last day of school, Pepper had thrown a stone at the back of Greasy Johnsonβs head and hit him; they had hung up the old sail of Brianβs fatherβs sailing boat over their corner of paradise, aka the old chalk quarry; Dog had been discovered; Β they had made the acquaintance of witches and Tibetans and other strange creatures; and they had helped avert the end of the world.
It had been a good summer, but also an exhausting summer.
ββ¦and so it is with great sadnessβββ but with a grave voice, βββthat Iβve to announce this Summerβs come to an end. Weβre finally goinβ to school tomorrow,β Adam concluded and let out his breath. The Them stared at their leader with raised brows, but not even Pepper thought it worth to raise an argument, too.
____________________________
βAdam, my new shoes hurt.β
Pepper rolled her eyes and muttered something that sounded like ninnies.
Adam glanced down at his own shoes, which werenβt the most comfortable, and then at the pair on Brianβs and Wensleydayleβs feet. Identical, black and shiny. He just shrugged, and then walked on towards the double oak doors, the massive portal into this new world called Tadfield Comp. His brand-new shoes now fit like a glove, and he thought he wouldnβt mind them all too much anymore.
____________________________
He didnβt see Mr. Crowley until the end of his first day of classes, and then he only truly saw him because he ran into him and, oh dear, spilled his hot chocolate all over Mr. Crowleyβs expensive-looking suit. If that hadnβt happened, Adam might not have seen him at all. Like all eleven-year-olds, he had developed the habit of not looking at teachersβ faces all that often very early on in his inimitable career as a schoolboy.
βSorry, Mr. Crowley,β Adam said flatly, and with no real surprise once the first wave of it had abated. He almost went ahead and removed the mess without a further wordββ then checked himself and hesitated. βDβyou want me to fix it for you, or dβyou want to fix it yourself?β Rude to assume that he should lend a hand when perhaps it wasnβt wanted. One mustnβt assume, his father always said.
