The Monster Under the Bed || Kickthestickz

St. Greene's Academy for Young Gentlemen

Great. September 1st. Today is the day. The to go back to school. A lot of people enjoy school, especially the people at mine. St Green's Academy for Young Gentlemen is a boarding school. The boys who attend think they're having the time of their lives with the swimming pool open for use on the weekends, the 12 mile stretch of woods that surround us, the constant boyish banter and the occasional visit from the all-girls school that we're linked to.

But with the boys for the school come their rich families, swimming in money brought in from the multi-million pound companies owned by their fathers all over the world. And with the money, comes their cars. Almost all the boys spend careless amounts of money on flashy cars only to ruin them with their homemade bombs at the next substance party they attend. But money is just an object for anyone who attends St Greene's.

I bundle myself into our tiny car, my suitcase sliding into the foot-well beneath my seat. A six hour car journey to the edge of Wales is just the way to boost my mood. Not. I can't think of anything worse. Six whole hours, that's three hundred and sixty minutes of sitting in the car with my mother, listening to various Take That CDs on repeat. Wonderful. "Chris, honey. Have you got everything?" My mother shouts from across the front garden. Clothes, underwear, spare uniform, toothbrush?

"Wait! Mum, no!" I bellow as I clamber awkwardly out of the car and dash up the stairs to my bedroom. This doodle book holds everything to me. Secrets, inspirations, little scrawled drawing of my imagination and dreams such as monsters or demons. It means so much and it has to come with me.

The soft woolen fabric of my old jumper slides along my skin as I reach into the top corner of my wardrobe to get the book. Finally I feel it. The smooth chill of the cover against my warm fingers. I clasp it, pull it down and shove it into my blazer.

My mum's soft voice echoes up the stairs, "come on, Christopher! We're going to be late." I take one last fleeting look at my room before barreling out of the house and into the car. "I really don't know why you carry that book," my mother says as the car rumbles to life. "It's getting a bit tatty, don't you think?"

"No! It's perfectly fine!" I reply swiftly, as our house swings out of view.

"Just leave it in the car and I'll bring it home with me. No harm can come to it then."

"Mum, I want to take it. I like to use it"

"Okay, honey. I just don't want it to get damaged." Well, that was the end of that conversation.

We sit in silence as trees and hills fly past our windows. My breath fogs the window as I rest my head against the door. 1 o'clock. We've only been in the car for two hours and I'm starving. My finger traces a hotdog through the mist on my window. "Time for lunch I think," my mum says happily whilst flicking on her indicator and pulling into the service station.

Fifteen minutes later and I'm filled to the brim with gooey cheese, soft bread and pepperoni slices from Domino's Pizza. I sigh with satisfaction as the chill of my drink flushes down my throat. When mum finishes we traipse back to the car and begin the rest of the drive to school.

*

'St. Greene's Academy for Young Gentlemen' reads the sign at the beginning of the half-mile long driveway. After a while, I see the school. The same old building, with the same old trees, teeming with nearly the same old students students, young and old, bustling about with suitcases or saying their "hellos" to friends that haven't been seen over the hot summer months. Even though I detest the place, I have to admit, it does look brilliant. The sun falling perfectly through the woodland and bouncing elegantly off of the windows.

I step out and crunch against the gravel under foot. The wintry air bites against my face. It's unusually cold for this time of year. I ruffle my hair to give my shaking hands something to do as I retrieve my cases from the car. My mother's soft lips give me some last seconds of comfort as they press against my cheek whilst we say our final goodbyes. "See you soon, honey. Be a good boy, Chrisy," she coos whist fixing my hair, my blazer and giving me more kisses. I roll my eyes at the horrendous nickname.

"Mum, leave it. I'll be fine," I reply with what I hope is a reassuring smile. "See, you at Christmas. Love you." I give her one last hug and wave her off as she pootles back down the driveway, blowing kisses all the way.

"Was that Mummy, huh, Kendall? Did you forget your plushie toys? Has she gone back home to collect them?" Wonderful, its started already. I walk off trying to ignore everyone and get into the room as quickly as possible. "Are you gunna answer me, freak!?" My face burns with hurt and embarrassment.

Turning towards the voice, I cock up one eyebrow attempting to think of a response. "Leave me alone, Jonah," I mumble. 'We've only just got here and I don't need you shitting on my year already."

"Or what? You'll run to your little boyfriend?" His friends roar with laughter about his truly brilliant comment.

I turn back around and run as fast as I can, carrying all my stuff, to my dormitory. The only place I can be myself in the wretched establishment. It's not like I'm the only openly gay student in this school but ever since I can out three years ago I have experienced nothing but hate and bullying since. I have my own dorm room because no one wants to share with me. I wipe my face and turn the cold, brass door knob to my room. My safe haven.

I breathe a sigh of relief as I close the door to my dormitory behind me. The crisp smell of ironed sheets and the old oak floors swirl through my nostrils make me feel the happiness I so desperately needed. Or at least as much happiness I can feel here. My bags fly though the air as I take a step further in, admiring my own peaceful sanctuary for the coming weeks. Finally, time to get some me onto the ghastly, bare walls.

After half an hour decorating I look proudly up at the walls that are starting to look a bit more like home. Although, at home I wasn't afraid to open the door because of the jeering comments and snide remarks that come my way. But it was good enough.

Emptying my suitcase was a simple task. My clothes all stored in the thick chest of drawers beside my bed and my doodle books is perched precariously on top. May as well, I think as I pull out my pencils and flip the book the next fresh page. I begin to draw. Let my imagination take over, creativity run through my veins and inspiration control my pen.

"Oh, bloody hell." A muffled voice says through the oak door. Sitting bolt upright I listen to the noises outside. Someone is there. But this is my room. And no one would want to stay with me. Questions flood my brain as the source to the voice comes in.