Jedidiah Woods 

"I don't know where this new attitude is coming from," My Dad said, gruff voice drawing my attention, "But I am sure you did not learn it from us. Your sister turned out fine..." 

"Oh for fuck's sake Dad. Hearing you compare me to Jessie is worse than the idea that you are literally throwing me away." I said crossing my arms and leaning back into the car seat. 

"Language Jedidiah. Why can't you just be like Jessie?" My dad said, sounding tired. 

"Did you ever think it's because I am not Jessie? Maybe if you stop fucking comparing me to..." 

"Jedidiah!" My mum's flinch was the result of my dad's yell. 

"Whatever," I said looking out the window, in time to notice ‘my new home’, "Bradford's school of arts," I silently recited under my breath. 

Bradford's school of Arts, a place so adequately named for its artistic accomplishments. The brochure had been a standard colour template of pictures and words. ‘A prestigious school that aimed to cultivate talent and exceptional skill. To bridge the gap between mediocrity and Superiority.’ The second paragraph had gone on to explain how having talent didn't automatically earn you a spot in the big leagues and according to said brochure, this place was the best way to help kids navigate that path. Sort of like, a bridge for kids whose parents were willing to pay the large sum of money mentioned at the very end of the brochure, in fine print of course. 

Yes, boys and girls between the age of seventeen to twenty-seven, as if that didn't sound suspiciously like a disaster waiting to happen. I had managed to avoid this place for two years with a myriad of excuses but unfortunately, my luck had run out. And to make matters worse. I had blacked out, forgetting the reason why I was being punished. Well, cheers to that. 

I watched the famous, large, looming Castle-like building draw closer to us in a foreboding manner. 

Bradford's School of Arts. My punishment, disguised as an opportunity to ‘grow and learn’. A forest of trees blurred past me in my window as my doom became more and more apparent. 

 I glanced at the wrought iron gates as they opened up to swallow any form of normalcy I would ever know, I was a long way from home now. 

My dad parked the car and with a grim expression, he turned to face me, "I really hope this place helps you, Jedidiah because this is the last resort. If you don't come out of this experience as the good son we used to have, you might as well move out of our house and find a new one." 

That was the problem, wasn't it? Swear a couple of times and make one bad decision and suddenly I wasn't the ‘good’ son my parents knew. You would think I was a tyrant among my peers but no, Rev. Jedidiah Woods Snr just wasn't having any of my ‘attitude’ so to speak. If only I remembered the last incident that made them decide they had had enough. Of course, I could have asked but seeing as they were already mad that would definitely lead to a worse punishment. Although seeing where I was I couldn't really imagine anything worse than being thrown away. 

"Make sure to maintain your morals," My mother said, turning to look at me. "And remember just because you come from money doesn't mean you will have money." 

I nodded my head silently remembering her ‘money’ talk. Just because you come from money doesn't mean you will have money, my mother's way of reminding me that I needed to earn my own money because she could pull the rug from under my feet any day, any time. 

I looked out the window, in time to see hoards of boys dressed in strange outfits, sauntering around the campus like they owned the building. Expensive brands, vibrant colours and materials I had never seen before. If there ever was a visual representation of royalty in its youth it was the image before me.

"Your father and I are proud of you," she continued. I could hear the unspoken words in that sentence. ‘They were proud of me as long as I didn't disappoint them.’ That sentence was one I knew very well. Her opening statement to every lecture I ever received. That statement was the gate to three feelings: guilt, shame or pain. "I know you are growing up now. And we can't lock you up on the farm to keep you safe." 

She glanced back at me to make sure I was still listening. I nodded my head and tried to pay attention to her words after all she could still pull the plug anytime. Maybe if I acted like my old self she would forgive me and drive me back home. To our old farm in Wisconsin.

"So, I want you to remember that we trust you to make the right decisions. Don't revert to any bad habits." my mother said pointedly looking into my eyes. 

I thumbed the edges of my gold crucifix as I remembered the look my mum had when she caught me in those 'bad habits' she was referencing. The same ‘bad habits’ that were a blurry memory in my head. I didn't remember much but my mother's betrayed look and my father's enraged words were definitely seared in my mind. 

"When in doubt just ask yourself what would Jessie do?." My dad managed to say disrupting my mum's lecture. 

I nodded my head again and stared into the busy school. I watched more people arrive and enter the large oak doors never to emerge again. Bradford was an international school and difficult as it was to tell which countries people were from, it was however easy to pick out the different mannerisms between some of the students walking into the school hall. 

"Okay," I said, signalling my need to leave. Any second longer and I was going to swear at them again. I turned to my mother and asked, "Can I go now?" 

"Yes, you may." She answered before leaning over the console so she could kiss my forehead, "Don't forget to pray every day." 

"I won't," I said, stepping out of the car. I stood beside the car and took in the atmosphere around me. The Castle was large and if it wasn't for the number of students I had seen disappear into the building I would have thought it was empty. 

Rolling my eyes I opened the trunk to retrieve the backpack and suitcase I had packed. If my father wanted to disown me, why couldn't he just do it? There was no need to be a coward and hide behind this ‘rehab’ not working. 

"Be good, son. I will pray for you and write to you as often as I can." My mother said looking torn between hugging me and kidnapping me. 

"Yeah, tell your favourite child to not bother texting me," I replied, turning to face the signs on the cobblestone.

On the edge of the walkway stood a white wooden board with an image of a falcon behind a sharp sword and under it was a stack of 3 books with the words, Bradford School of Arts. In neat blue cursive letters, the board welcomed all new students with the words, ‘Welcome Home’.  Yeah right. 

 

I took a deep breath and pulled my luggage out of the car. This was it, my new life, so much for ‘be good and they will take you back home’. I lugged my luggage through the large oak doors leaving my parents and the world I knew behind me. It was my turn to go through the disappearing doors and never return. Despite the Dean of students warning me about how ‘different’ Bradford was I didn't expect it to be that different. But walking through those doors made me realise I might not have been prepared for what I was about to face. Walking into the main hall felt like I had finally walked through the wardrobe to Narnia.

I pulled my luggage into the expansive foyer, with my eyes darting to and fro I tried to take it all in but my mind could hardly digest what I was looking at. The school was a collage of browns, reds and golds. The walls were fortified by red mahogany pillars meters high, giving me the impression of what I imagined Olympian temples would look like if they were turned into a school. The furniture, the settee and chairs to be exact were made of red velvet fabric and the wood was painted gold like that of a royal family. The wooden floors shone like the surface of a mirror making me feel like I had stepped into an expensive hotel instead of a school. 

Feeling somewhat out of place, I hiked up my backpack and tightened my grip on the handle of my suitcase. My eyes wandered to the students, most of them didn't have backpacks and those that did carried variations of leather messenger bags. I looked away, gripping my cloth backpack even tighter. With my lips pulled into a small smile I pulled my suitcase over to the reception desk. 

"Jedidiah Woods," I said, smiling at the old black lady behind the desk. 

The lady looked up at me and smiled, "Oh," she exclaimed. 

I blinked up at her confused at the surprised look she had. She smiled, looking away to type on her computer. Her eyes crinkled in the corners as she smiled at me, "This is your first time here." 

It wasn't a question but I nodded. 

"Oh honey these kids are going to eat you up," She said, shaking her head and pulling out a piece of paper from the printer, "Oh! You are him."

My eyes squinted as I tried to figure out what she meant, "Him?" 

She smiled, pulling out another paper from the printer, "The special kid."