Alex usually arrived at the school early and alone, a few days before the term started. Jack always went back home after Alistair's party to enjoy what little time he would have left in New York. His family came up to Scotland for Christmas every year, so he wouldn't get to go back until spring break. Sean may have come up early with him this year since he was so angry at his parents, but of course, he would be staying in Dublin. Even Alex's uncle Thomas, the headmaster of the school, was so busy with getting things ready for all the problems bound to spring up that year that he had gone a week ahead of him. So, it was just Alex on the train ride down.
His mother never understood why he always took the train down. It was only marginally faster than having one of their fleet of drivers on call take him, and she never much cared for public transport. Alex loved it. No one looked at him twice or treated him with cautious care. Sometimes people were too loud or too rude and did not care what he thought of them. He felt like just another face in a crowd he could get lost in. It was one of the only things he liked about trips to big cities like London that his family would drag him on sometimes.
The school was just outside of Brighton, about a thirty-minute drive from the train station. Alex would always get picked up by a gentleman named Oliver, a groundsman for the school. Alex could tell he was a kind old man, but he was never quite brave enough to be anything other than formally polite with Alex. He always greeted him with a nod and a "good morning, sir" at the train station, taking the few bags Alex brought with him without being asked. Oliver played opera on his car's old stereo, and the drive itself was peaceful. Seeing the ocean always calmed whatever beginning-of-term nerves Alex had, though this year it wasn't quite doing the full job.
The campus was near deserted when they arrived. A lot of people not familiar with the area tended to think it was a small university when they saw it. It had that old scholarly kind of look about it. Lots of brickwork, spires, ivy-covered walls, and arched windows. The only real clue that it wasn't from the outside was the school's name, carved into the brick wall surrounding the property right by the front gate.
The security guard manning the gate probably could have just waved at Oliver at the simple sight of his blue Mini, but he went through the full protocol of checking his ID against the verified entry list. He may do that for everyone because he just takes his job that seriously, but Alex had a feeling he only did it when someone important like Conrad was around to observe him.
Once the guard unlocked and opened the gate, Oliver drove the car up the cobblestone road, turning down the corner that led towards the dormitories. There was more activity there. The only students who came this early were usually the international ones, who needed more time to get all their things settled or who could only catch certain flights. Students like Matthew Montoya, who he had been told arrived at the school the day before.
Oliver pulled the car to a stop by his dorm's front entrance. An attendant was waiting there, meant to help people out of their cars and get their belongings up to their rooms, but Alex opened his door before they could.
"Sorry," he automatically said when he noticed them visibly puzzled by him not letting them do their job. "Thank you."
The attendant blinked at him, wondering what on earth he was thanking them for. Alex didn't recognize them, and he hoped it was because they were new and not because he had forgotten their face.
Oliver chuckled as he got out of the car and walked around to squeeze the attendant's shoulder. "This is Alexander Conrad," he told them. "He's a kind lad."
The attendant looked panicked for a moment, but it passed when they noticed Alex look down and mumble a thank you to Oliver. "I'll get your things to your room right away sir," they said, "if you wanted to walk the campus or head to the dining hall."
"I hear Jerimiah was making lemon scones today," Oliver added.
"I'd like to take my things up."
"Are you sure, sir?"
"Yes, I'm a bit tired from the train ride, so I was going to rest up there anyways. And I only have two bags."
The attendant raised their eyebrows, and they climbed even higher when Oliver popped his trunk and they saw that was true. No doubt they were used to carloads a lot of students tended to bring with them.
"If you're sure, sir," they said as Alex slung his duffel bag over his shoulder and pulled up the handle of his roller suitcase.
"Yes. Thank you... Sorry, what's your name?"
"Fern, sir."
"Thank you, Fern."
"You're. . . welcome."
Alex made his way to the front door of the building. Oliver and Fern whispered to each other as he went, not quite quietly enough for him to not hear.
"You did say Conrad, right?" Fern asked.
"Don't worry, he's the only one of them like that," Oliver clarified. "Just wait until the twins get here. They'll give you the hell you were expecting."
Alex tried not to laugh at that as he entered the dorm. The ground floor was a communal living space, though Alex couldn't remember a time when it was used as one. Most of the students tended to stay in their flats. Most of them lived in singles too. They only had the option to have flatmates for siblings or family members who wanted to stay together and for special cases where a student needed a personal caretaker. A lot of the younger students were sent to school with private governesses or health attendants. Some of the older students had bodyguards or sober companions. Until this year Jack had Alex. Now Matthew was stuck with him. Almost all of the scholarship students had been put up in two-bedroom flats to make everyone fit, though everyone other than Matthew Montoya had been put up with another scholarship student. A nice way to keep them all brushed off to one side. Not that any of them would be better off boarding with an old family student.
Alex went to the elevator and took it up to the fifth floor. He would be staying in the same flat he had shared with Jack since they were in year seven. It was the last flat down the hall. The rest of the rooms seemed empty, and the hall was quiet in a way it wouldn't be again until the school year ended. At least, it was until Alex was about halfway down the hall. That's when he started to hear muffled rock music. It got louder as he neared the closed door of the flat, and Alex realized pretty quickly that was because the sound was coming from in there. He hesitated for a moment outside the door, then swallowed hard and unlocked it.
The flats were all equipped with the same kind of lounge, small kitchenette, and balconies big enough for two people to sit out there at once. Then the number of rooms varied from flat to flat. No one was inside the small lounge, but there were a couple of empty boxes on the sofa. Some American snacks were also on the kitchenette counter, and a silver coffee percolator that didn't come with the flat was on the two-burner stove. The music was loud in a way that was just below uncomfortable, and it was coming from one of the bedrooms. Alex didn't recognize it, but that just meant it could be anything from that decade.
Alex wheeled his suitcase over to the sofa and put his duffel bag down on top of it. Then he took a couple of calming breaths before approaching the hall that led to the bedrooms. The first was still empty, but the second had the door open and a light on inside. The music was nice actually. The vocalist didn't have a pretty voice exactly, but they sang in a way that drew you in anyways. If he was understanding them right, the lyrics were very poetic as well. He was pretty sure the singer was switching between Spanish and English.
He wasn't exactly sure what he was expecting from Matthew Montoya when he introduced himself. Maybe he would act the way almost everyone did, overly polite and a little scared. Maybe he would be nice, treat him like he would any new stranger. Maybe he would take a play out of Jack's book and hit him across the face without warning. Maybe it wouldn't be so terrible if he did. After all, Alex had managed to befriend Jack after he did that.
Alex tried his best to summon up a non-threatening air as he approached the doorway. The way the room was laid out made it hard to see if anyone was inside without entering, so he hovered in the doorway and knocked on the frame. He could barely hear it over the sound of the music, so he doubted anyone inside could. The fact that no one responded or came in to view either confirmed that or meant no one was in there. Alex shifted around on his feet for a moment before poking his head into the room to get a better look inside. The music was coming from a round stereo sitting on top of the desk in there. A bunch of CDs and cassettes were stacked neatly next to it. A couple of suitcases were on the bed, half-unpacked by the looks of it. Sitting cross-legged on the floor by the bed was a boy, flipping through the pages of a magazine. He had yet to notice Alex lurking.
Alex stood there staring at him for a moment. He had been stressing for so long about having Matthew Montoya as a flatmate that he had been imagining him as this formless entity. A physical embodiment of his stress and anxiety. It was sad how bizarre it felt to see he was just a normal teenager. He had brown freckled skin, short curly brown hair, and rounded glasses on his face. He was wearing an oversized white t-shirt with a faded design and hole-speckled black sweatpants. His feet were bare, and Alex couldn't help but smile when he saw his toenails painted neon pink.
Stop drooling and say something to him, you creep, his inner voice suddenly said. Alex felt his face go hot, and he couldn't stop himself from responding to his thoughts out loud right away. He managed to cut himself off before he could get a full word out but ended up just making some awful choking sounds. It was loud enough to cut through the music and draw Matthew Montoya's attention away from his magazine and to the doorway. He pushed his glasses up to rest on top of his head and looked at Alex with narrowed eyes.
"Sorry," Alex said automatically, his face getting even hotter. If Matthew Montoya came any closer, he could probably feel it. "I, um, I didn't mean to lurk. I knocked, but I don't think you could hear it over the music."
Matthew Montoya didn't respond to his apology. He just wordlessly stood up, using his finger to save his place in his magazine as he moved. Alex vaguely recognized the cartoon character on the cover. He was pretty sure it was from a video game, but he wasn't positive.
"It's nice to meet you," Alex continued as Matthew approached the door. "I'm, uh-"
Alex's introduction was cut short when Matthew swung the door shut, but not before shooting him the coldest look, Alex had ever seen. Which was impressive, given who his family was. Alex stood there for a couple of seconds, staring at the dark oak door, his name still stuck in his throat. After a bit he let out a sigh and leaned forward, his head bumping the door slightly.
"Yeah, that felt about right," he mumbled to himself before turning to get his things from the lounge. A door slammed in his face was honestly the best result he could have realistically hoped for.
Alex never brought much with him to school, just enough uniform sets to get through the week and mostly lounge-type wear for his off days. He had an archery bow he kept in the equipment shed by the pitch, so there was no need to bring the one he had at home. His books were mostly the ones he needed for school. Though he did have a couple of art history books he regularly brought with him. They had been his father's, and while most of the text went over his head, the copies and photographs of the pieces inside were nice company.
Alex rolled his stuff to the empty room. The walls were dark wood panels with intricate carvings. The floor used to be carpeted, but a couple of years ago they had done remodeling to replace them all with new hardwood floors made to look old on purpose. Inside there was a bed, already made up with sheets, a small desk, a bookshelf built into the wall next to it, and a closet so big Alex could hardly imagine filling it to the brim. It was a bit smaller than the rooms in the single flats, but it still felt like too much room for one person Alex. It was at least better than his vast room back at the estate.
Alex didn't love being at school. His classmates who weren't overly formal tended to be the ones bold enough to walk all over him. Mostly the friends of Julia and Laurent. Sometimes Hannah and hers too. His uncle wasn't as intense of a condescending presence as his mother, but he came close. Sometimes it felt like even his teachers were disappointed in him. He wasn't academically gifted as Mikhail had been. He wasn't a troublemaker like Sean or Jack. He wasn't charismatic like Julia and Laurent. He was a quiet and average student, and he always felt like everyone expected him to be so much more. Interesting in at least some way, even if it was in a way that gave them a headache.
Still, he would be lying if he said he wasn't at least a little relieved to be there. Once he settled, and the nerves of a new year settled along with him, being at school was so much easier than being at home. His uncle was usually more occupied with work than checking in on him. Julia and Laurent had taken to caring more about their social lives than bothering him about not having one. Alex had more things to keep him busy, like his schoolwork and practicing with the archery team. His archery coach, who was also the year 7 maths teacher, was probably the only staff member who came close to seeing something worthwhile in Alex. But Alex had a feeling he was a little intimidated by the fact that Alex had a famous private instructor because he never really made much of an attempt to actively coach him.
At school, even though his family's name was plastered everywhere, it was marginally easier to forget he was a Conrad. Not completely, of course. Not nearly as easily as when he took the train, or in those brief moments on family trips to London when Alex was alone enough in a crowd, but certainly easier than when he was at the estate.
Alex took his lounge clothes out of the duffel bag and put them in the drawers in the closet. He also had his school shoes and trainers in there, so he put them down on the floor by the closet door. In his suitcase, properly folded and packed thanks to Pamela, were his school uniform shirts, blazers, trousers, and ties. He hung them all to find that she had also included some presentable outfits for him to wear on off days. Sweaters and jeans and a couple of nice jackets.
"You shouldn't just take t-shirts and joggers, Alexander," she would always say when he insisted on packing a bag on his own. "What if you want a night out, on a date, or something like that?"
"I like to think you know me better than that by now, Pamela," Alex would always answer, to which she would shake her head.
"Just seems like a waste to be such a kind and handsome young man and do nothing but spend your weekends faffing around on your own in ratty clothes."
Alex always just shook his head and never said anything else. A waste was exactly what it was. Exactly what he was.
Alex hung up the extra clothes as well, not wanting to let Pamela's work in keeping them nice go to waste as well. Maybe this year he might wear some of them. At the very bottom of the suitcase was Alex's school bag, pre-packed with supplies like pens and notebooks, and his novels and textbooks for the year. He took the bag out and put it on the desk, then placed all the books on the bookcase. He put the empty suitcase and duffel bag at the back of the closet, then hopped up onto his bed.
Music was still coming from Matthew Montoya's room. Alex was pretty sure it had gotten louder. It sounded like a different song from the same band, but Alex still didn't know what it was. If the stacks of CDs and cassettes were a good indicator, Matthew Montoya must be a big music fan. Alex wondered if he was only a fan of the type of soft rock music that he was playing at the moment, or if other genres were in his collection. He wondered if he played an instrument himself, or was content just listening.
Alex closed his eyes and listened to the music, the soundwaves shaking the walls slightly in time with the chords. The lyrics themselves were sad, but the music was high energy and that same vocalist had a strangely upbeat delivery. It was disjointed in a way that still felt harmonious. Alex wished he was brave enough to ask Matthew what the song was called, but the thought of seeing that cold stare again was more than enough to keep him trapped in his room.
This was going to be a very long year, wasn't it?