Private School Kings

Fielding Encounters

The day I met Fletcher was a cold one. I'd been at Pruitt Academy one month and the weather had already turned brisk. Back home it never really got cold. Especially not in September. Now, I had to pull my hat down low onto my ears to keep them from going numb. I was still getting used to it, just like everything else at Pruitt.

I was late to practice and seeing as lacrosse was the reason I was at the academy in the first place that was a pretty big deal. I'd had to see Mr. Porter after English. I was still having trouble "achieving my potential" as the administration had told my uncle. Porter kept me late, lecturing me about grammar and applying myself. By the time I'd managed to get free, it was 3:20, meaning the girls had probably already finished their warm ups.

I was sprinting for the fields when I saw him for the first time. It was on the steps outside of Gossmer hall, not the fastest route, but I was still getting used to my surroundings. I'd had my head down, pushing myself forward, faster and faster.

"Murphy?" He was in front of me, almost like he'd appeared out of thin air. Fletcher was taller then me, but that wasn't saying much. For a guy I guess he was probably about average height. Maybe a little below, but he had a strong, broad shouldered build and stiff shoulders. His face was striking, all hard angles and dark freckles. His eyes were intense, and the fact that they were narrowed didn't help. His hair was black, shorter on the sides. He kept them neat, but on top he had an array thick tousled locks.

I almost fell over as I skidded to a stop. My heart was already beating fast, but it still sped up at the sudden appearance of this strange boy. This strange boy who knew my name, but that wasn't so unusual. It seemed like everyone at Pruitt knew me... Or at least they knew I didn't belong. "Yeah."

At my confirmation his whole demeanor changed. Before he'd been serious and disarming, but I watched his face shift until it was filled with the charming confidence I'd encountered in so many private school boys. "I'm Fletcher Highgaurd. I'm with the Pruitt Press, the school paper. It would be great if I could interview you."

I had to go, but the request was so strange I couldn't just leave it. "Why?"

"You're new to the school, you're a junior. We don't get too many kids coming in after freshman year. You're a scholarship kid, right?"

I nodded, grinding my teeth. I knew they thought it- all the other kids- I knew whenever they talked to me they were thinking about the scholarship. It's just they never said it, not out right. I couldn't decide if Fletcher's approach was better or worse.

"So, would you be up for an interview?" I bounced on my heels as I tried to think of a believable way to refuse. "It would be short, and you'd be doing me a big favor." He smiled. It was that private school smile, built on years of expensive orthodontic intervention. A smile that was so white and straight you couldn't look away.

"I can't right now. I have lacrosse." I glanced over his shoulder and stood tall on my toes, craning my neck to see if I could catch a glimpse of the field.

"That's okay. I can do another time."

"I really have to get going." I said. It was a purposeful nonanswer. The thought of an interview made my stomach churn. As did the thought of talking to this pushy Pruitt boy any longer than necessary. I was already pushing my way past him, starting my sprint again. The cool breeze bit at my face, but I didn't look back, and he didn't follow.

"You're late Monroe!" Coach Keller shouted when I came out onto the field. I'd changed as quickly as possible, stuffing my blazer into my locker unceremoniously. That hadn't saved me though. The other girls were already well into practice.

"Sorry, sir." I said. My fingers fumbled with the laces of my cleats, and the cold bit at my bare shoulders. I curled my arms to my chest. The Pruitt jerseys were cute. They were blue and white, with the Pruitt Hawk looking menacing on the front. They just weren't warm.