TUINSTRA: or The Chronicles of Schoolboys and Their Infallible Deeds

Chapter One: Nate

September 4, 1904

Caliginis, Netherlands

The sharp cry of the train's whistle rang throughout the station as the last of its passengers settled onto the flat stone. The conductor yelled something ineligible to the front of the train and the tracks let out a shrill shriek in response. Dark, puffy smoke rose to the glass roof as the train began to trek along slowly, the red tyres gradually picking up pace. People were leaning out of the windows; boys and men shouting farewells while women and girls waved their handkerchiefs, which danced in the air. It was always this way in Caliginis during the ending summer of late August and early September. Right around the time when wealthy European families would drop their sons off at the station, dressed in wrinkled black waistcoats and crooked white ties for the upcoming school year. The station was filled to the brim with overly affectionate sendoffs, ill placed suitcases, and boys ranging from the age of that of a late child to up and coming young adults. It was bustling, loud, and golden with life in a way the gloomy village wouldn't see for the rest of the year.

Nate stared out at all of it, a sense of familiarity resting in his belly. The summer was long, longer than it normally was and he had been itching to get back in his classes three weeks into it. He hadn't had anything to keep himself busy other than wolfing down various handheld snacks and the occasional trip to the sea for fishing. He practiced some of his skills of course, but one can only play the same three sonatas on the violin or reread the same three novels so many times before it ultimately gets tiring. So unlike some of his classmates, he was happy to be back in school.

"Must they start the train indoors?" Nate's gaze slid over to the boy beside him. Amos had his perfect nose scrunched up and his mouth in a twisted pucker. He looked as if he had just popped a slice of lemon into his mouth. "The smoke makes my hair smell."

Nate rolled his eyes and picked up the two heavy brown suitcases beside him. "Do you believe them to just pitch passengers outside for your convenience?" He asked, flippantly.

Amos ruffled his own hair, as if that would somehow fix it. He gave his friend a wicked grin. "Finally, a sound suggestion! I shall report to the conductor immediately."

Nate scoffed at the other's antics. Amos was always obsessed with appearances, but he was especially a terror when it was the first week of the term. Last year, he had left the iron a little too long on Nate's bed after pressing his trousers, which had caught on fire. Half of his white bed sheets and the belongings he had set on the bed had been ruined, and while his sheets had gotten replaced quickly, to this day there were scorch marks on the wall. He hadn't spared Amos a glance for twice that long. He dreaded what Amos might be up to this week.

Nate swung around, lifting his head to peer about the station. There must have been a hundred boys in the station, from first years to eight years, white ties, black waistcoats, and black suspenders galore. He squinted a bit, realizing that he couldn't quite see a certain thing.

"Amos, have you happened to know where the boys are?" Nate asked, looking back over his shoulder. He'd been supervising a group of first years on the train as was his responsibility as a prefect. Amos had been inspecting his fingernails for dirt–yet another vain habit of his–when Nate had addressed him. His steely eyes flicked back up to Nate, a bored expression on his face.

"Oh, they scurried off. Why?"

Nate felt his temper flare and glared up at him. "Because, they're first years and it's my responsibility as a sixth year and-"