Part 1. The Boarding School - Chapter 1. First Sight

George Maltravers was not made for boarding school. No. He was going to get teased because of his chubbiness, and mocked because of his girly blue eyes and then he would be forced to join the choir and everyone would find his singing voice extremely funny – at least that was what had happened in the old school. That's why he had to transfer in the middle of the term, because of the bullies. But this was a new start, a new beginning. Little did he know that it would also be the beginning.
The school was old, built in the 17th century but then it had been a lot smaller and only for the aristocrats. Today it was a mix of upper middle-class and lower nobles.
George took a deep breath, the corridor was cold, and the dorms was far away from the main building, perfect, just perfect. ”Oh, Mr. Maltravers, this is the first graders B dorm, everyone is away at the moment, at class. Dinner is served in half an hour. Do not be late.”
”No professor. Thank you professor.” George said and opened the door, and tried to slip in with all his luggage, it probably looked ungracefully but at least he got in. He rearranged his coat, it was grey. Not like the school uniform, which was in a rather dull (but still better than grey) blue colour.
He found his bed, it was the only one that wasn't made, it was situated in the corner. He sat down, the bed was hard, but the dorm it self didn't look so bad. It had just 6 beds, and on the opposite wall three large windows spread light across the room. The fireplace was seated just next to the door and above it hung a copy of the ”Last Supper” by the... Davinchi? George really couldn't remember, it wasn't really his thing – art and such, well he liked to sing, occasionally, but that was kind of it. In the middle of the room there was a long wooden table with 6 chairs, all looked equally hard.
He must admit that he was worried about the other students, he wasn't really that good at standing up for himself. Maybe that had been why the bullies, oh what a silly word for something so bad, maybe that's why he was made a target? He started to unpack, neatly folding his things into the coffin at the end of the bed.
He didn't hear the door open, maybe because he was concentrating on making his bed. He was straighting out the blanket when he looked up into a pair of dark eyes. ”Need any help?” the owner of the eyes asked.
”Uh, yes please.” George said, and tried to smile. Soon the bed was fit for inspection. ”Do they drop coins here too?”
”Sometimes.” the other boy said. ”Oh, sorry, I am Charles.” The boy named Charles was tall, and he had black hair, it was messy and looked like it needed a good comb. ”Charles Stuart.” He reached out his hand and George shook it.
”George Maltravers.” he said.
”Nice to meet you!” Charles smiled, his smile was utterly wonderful, so bright and warm and happy. ”Just coming back to leave my books before dinner. Heading back to the canteen, want me to show the way?”
”Yes please, would be great. It's a big school.”
The other boy laughed. ”Well it isn't that big.”
”How long have you been here?”
”Two years now, since I was 11.” He said. Charles looked like a person you should stick to. ”Where do you come from?” he asked.
Charles looked back at him, opened the door. ”London.” George followed him, out into the cold autumn.
George looked at him, he was right next to him and had his cheeks was slightly red, and George thought that he must look the same himself. ”Isn't that very far away from here?”
”Not further away than Sussex.” Charles smiled again.
Georges blushed. ”Is it that obvious.” He really hated his accent, and he had tried to conceal it, but sometimes it slipped through. His father said he would grow away when he grew up.
”No, not really. Either way I think it sounds... amazing.” George smiled, for some reason it was nice to know that Charles liked his accent.