Thank you for choosing to read the debut chapter of "The Watchers of Greenport Academy."
This is the first story I have published online, after writing for several other ventures. I just graduated college, and am excited to share these stories with you.
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Any resemblance of real people or events is coincidental. Please be aware this story depicts homosexual themes.
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My thumbs pressed hard against the creases of my navy blue uniform pants. I drew small circles into the fabric as I waited for my application to be finalized.
I glared past the admissions officer and up toward the top end of the walls. Framed pictures and awards lined the upper end of the walls. It read like a painted history of the academy. Championship games, visits to the capitol and Nobel Laureates.
The men in the photos all had stoic looks. Each wore a blazer embedded with the crest of Greenport Academy.
My eyes drew back down to the man across from me. He wouldn't make eye contact. Instead, he shifted his weight as he flipped to the next page of my file.
"And these are your fitness test scores?" he asked.
I cleared my throat, ready to spin the focus to anything else.
"It's ok," said Loyd, breaking his attention away from the papers for the first time since I sat down. He folded my file and dropped it on his desk.
"Not every first year student is ready to meet our athletic expectations. But your aptitude in certain areas otherwise demonstrates your qualifications."
I let out the breath I had been holding.
"Thank you, sir," I replied, but still anxiously tracing patterns into my pants. A thread was coming loose from between the seam.
"Don't thank me yet. You're a late enrollment. We expect you to match your academic competence with competitive rigor."
"Yes, sir."
"We want you, but we will not allow your boyish outlook to setback our image."
Loyd pushed back from his desk. He circled the edge of his office.
I could hear his feet landing on the rug just behind me. I kept my focus ahead of me.
"If you ask me, you're not an academy man," Loyd said. "You are not talented, or capable. But, we all follow orders."
He paused.
"Fucking Christ, would you look at me?"
I whipped around in my chair, creasing the rug and scraping the side of his desk.
The man-monster groaned.
Suddenly, he held a handful of my blazer and I spun off my feet. A whiff of Whiskey-scented cologne greeted my nose. Stubble dotted his face. Too much sun had clearly leathered his skin even beyond his already old age.
"You might think you're special because you have connections," he said, as his other hand slipped across my chest.
He spat as he power tripped.
His fingers rested right below my belt. His liberties didn't stop there. An index finger plainly felt for my balls through my pants.
My mouth ran dry.
"But we all do. And who you know on the outside can't rescue you now."
"I wouldn't dare to cheat the system," I winced.
His fist loosened. I made contact with the floor again... thank you, gravity.
"This is your schedule," he said; handing me a leatherbound book.
"Our student manual. Treat it as you would the bible."
He walked back to his desk. He adjusted his belt.
"Leave."
I backed out of his office like I was escaping an apex predator.
Hallway traffic swallowed me whole. I headed for the dormitory wing across the quad. Every guy who passed me shoulder-checked me into another dimension. Dumb jocks.
"Welcome to the jungle..." I said to myself, barely a mumble. I figured no one would hear.
"You're him?"
A voice came from nowhere.
"Hello?" The voice said again.
I spaced out and was standing outside my dorm. The guy in the room next to me was standing in his doorway, leaning out to the hallway.
"Huh?"
"Are? You? Matthew?" He punctuated each word of the question with curt sarcasm.
"Uh," I licked my lips. "Who's asking?"
"Damn, Loyd must have done a number on you," he chuckled. "Honestly, you do look like a runt though."
I stiffened my entire body.
"Relax. I don't care. About your puny weakness, at least."
I glanced at his Blazer. His name was stitched into his lapel. I followed the lapel all the way down to his pants. It was a...very form-fitting uniform. Unlike mine.
"Nice to meet you, Adam," I tried in response, but my sincerity to be nice teetered on the edge.
"Cute. It's not nice to meet you. I worked for my place to be here."
Again with this shit. What is with smug jocks and asserting their dominance?
"I earned mine."
"Like hell you did. You're just a number for the committee. They want proof the academy pipes out innovation."
I fumbled for my key. My hands were shaking.
"Where's the respect? Are you trying to dip on me?" Adam said as he moved on me.
This damn key.
"Please," I said as he towered over me. "You don't --"
Adam turned his body to be facing the opposite end of the hall. He made an emphatic face, and his eyes got big, but his overall demeanor softened.
Pursed between his thin lips, he mouthed a silent `Shh!'
"I -- what?"
His hand flew up just above his belt. Like a conductor, he signaled me to shut up. His eyes motioned to a blinking red light just above us along the ceiling.
He took the key from my hand, and slid it effortlessly into the door and turned the lock open. His strong hands brushed up against my jacket.
"And remember RUNT," his demeanor reverted again, "you gotta make it past birth. And THIS is your rebirth."
It sounded almost intentionally like he was projecting his voice toward the blinking red light. He shuffled back to his door. But his eyes dropped with a depth of sadness, and he caught one more glimpse toward me as I opened my door.
"I'm sorry," he mouthed.
He sunk into his room and shut the door. I looked back at the red blinking light. It stopped.
I retreated into my own unfamiliar territory.
I dropped my bag in the wardrobe. I'll unpack later.
My eyes dressed and undressed my new room. Its sun scorched wood-paneling and unfinished floorboard radiated age. I could be the first guy to call it home this century.
I collapsed onto my bed, which seemed new. The August heat beamed through the rotted windows. My eyelids weighed heavily after traveling all day. I should -- no, I'll do that lat--
My chest rose and fell. I inhaled one more sharp, hard breath.
The rhythm of my sleep brought me back.
My parents. Praying in the pew at church. The ride home. My bags are already packed.
"You've done this to yourself," my mother said.
My father stood in silence. His back turned to me.
Tears fell down my face.
"Dad," I begged. "You don't have to do this. Please."
Nothing.
"Dad?"
My mother turned me back around to face her.
"Don't ask your father to pretend this isn't an issue, sweetheart," she said. "He and I have arranged for you to repair your manhood."
No goodbye. The love I once had for my parents drained from my body.
I shot up in bed, barely catching my breath. My tears collected in a reservoir in the corners of my lips. I choked on the words I wanted to say, but with nobody to share them with.
I checked the time.
Just after 1 in the morning.
Prepared to go back to sleep, I twisted my body. But I was still dressed in my uniform.
I went to hang up my blazer. A note stuck out of the inside pocket.
SORRY FOR THE SHOW. MORE TO COME. A
A show?
I scrunched up the note and tossed it toward the wastebasket.
But, that's when I saw it again.
The red light. Blinking. illuminating the hallway just outside my door.
Some of the light spilled under my door.
I stopped just short of trashing the note.
Each blink of the red light revealed a silhouette.
Blink.
I moved closer, and crouched down. It looked like a pair of shoes standing right outside my door.
I slowed my breaths, trying to capture the moment. Was I sure of myself?
The stillness of the night felt like I could hear anything for miles. But I was pressing my ear hard to the door, searching for an answer to who was on the other side.
The closeness nearly froze me in time. I was almost sure I heard someone else trying to be just as quiet.
Moments like these made me feel at peace with my thoughts. Finally, there was no one to antagonize me.
I was so lost in my own solace, I didn't notice the doorknob starting to turn.