The train hummed softly beneath him as August watched the landscape blur past the window. It was early morning, the sun just beginning to break through the clouds, casting long shadows across the seats. He stared out the window, letting his mind wonder if this would be the start of something he could call normal, or if the feeling of unfamiliarity would follow him to graduation. His fingers idly traced the edges of the letter in his pocket, the one from the admissions office. He exhaled slowly, lost in thought, as the train continued its steady rhythm.
The train car was filled with the gentle murmur of conversations, but August was more interested in the quiet. He watched the others—heads bent in their own worlds, newspapers rustling, a few scattered glances exchanged across the aisle. It was the kind of place where strangers didn't speak unless they had to. Still, he couldn't help but wonder about the people around him—where they were headed, what they were leaving behind, if they knew each other. The sound of laughter from a nearby seat caught his attention. For a moment, he almost wished he could join in, but he quickly shut the thought down.
August had never liked the feeling of being alone in a crowd, but today it seemed a little different. He shifted in his seat, watching a small group of students across the aisle, another jolt of laughter coursing through them over something that appeared miniscule to him. Yet, it made him feel like an outsider in a world that was moving on without him. His fingers tightened around the edge of his jacket, its once gold button now more of a tarnished bronze. The conversation livened up a bit as the train continued. He could hear the faint screeches as the doors around him opened and closed.
The sound of his thoughts filled the space between the rhythmic clatter of the tracks and the lack of conversation in his compartment. The seats, plush yet made of a scratchy floral pattern, rubbed against his trousers every time the train made a bump over the tracks. Opposite him, another identical seat formed a booth-like arrangement with an overhead storage area above on each side. Earlier, when he had tried to close the door, it squealed so loudly that he had left it half closed. As a result, he could see out and across the aisle from where he was sitting. The boys across from him, around 8 of them he would guess, were packed in there like sardines. But as it seemed, they all knew each other. He felt a pang of jealousy hit him like a brick.
August shifted in his seat, and considered communicating with the other boys. Turning his gaze back toward the window, he watched the trees zip past him. The leaves were hues of orange, yellow and red; he smiled at the thought of his brother, most likely making a pile and playing in them right now.
A loud crash diverted his attention, he heard the clamoring of footfalls as everyone got up to see what was causing all of the commotion. He slid open his compartment door and peeked his head out.
Swiveling his head around, that's when he noticed them—three students gathered at the front of the car, their giggles ringing out with an ease August couldn't quite understand. He felt his stomach knot slightly. He didn't know them, but somehow, the way they interacted made them seem like they were the kind of people he could never be. Still, he couldn't tear his eyes away from their group. Everyone was snickering aloud when the heavier footsteps approached the main door of their car.
The laughter died down almost instantly, a chill running through the air. A stern man with a thick voice and a presence that seemed to command silence without a word—stepped into the car, his sharp eyes sweeping over the crowd.
"What is the meaning of this?" he barked, his voice cutting through the lingering silence like a blade.
The trio at the front straightened immediately, though the tallest of the group– a boy with unruly dark hair and a mischievous grin– tried to suppress what looked like another laugh. "Just a bit of an accident, sir," he said, gesturing to an overturned trolley that lay on its side, sweets and sandwiches scattered across the floor.
At the sound of the firm, measured voice, August's attention sharpened. The man—who no one dared to address by name—stood with quiet authority. It was only when August caught the slight shift of the atmosphere as students instinctively straightened their backs, did he realize where he'd seen him before.
During his tour of St. Alaric, this man was introduced in passing– one of their senior staff, though his exact role was lost in the blur of all of the new names he was expected to memorize. What August did remember was the way the guide had spoken about him: careful and reserved, especially for someone whose patience was not tested. August racked his brain, sifting through the hazy recollection that he had of that day, until finally his title surfaced with clarity.
The Dominie— one of St. Alaric's highest headmasters who oversaw all the aspects of St. Alaric's– was a figure everyone spoke about in hushed tones. He had a reputation that seemed to precede him in every corridor and classroom. Unlike the housemasters, who handled daily affairs, the Dominie's authority extended over everything.
August had only caught glimpses of him before– standing in front of the Meridian Hall during orientation, his expression cold as he observed the newest students. Now seeing him up close, August felt a pit of anxiety start to form in his stomach.
The man's gaze swept over the scene, assessing the overturned trolley and the students before him with a look so piercing that it made August straighten and cower under his gaze, though he wasn't the one in trouble.
"An accident, Mr. Henry, or one of your usual antics?"
The boy—Henry—raised his hands in mock surrender, though the sparkle in his eyes remained. "Purely coincidental, sir. Promise."
The other boys next to him shifted awkwardly, one muttering under his breath and the other trying to stifle his grins. August, still half-hidden behind his compartment door, felt his heart quicken. Henry, with his effortless charm and apparent fearlessness, seemed like someone out of a novel—a character August could read about but never imagine speaking to.
The Dominie sighed, clearly unimpressed, and turned to the rest of the students. "Enough of this nonsense. Everyone back to your seats. And you, Mr. Henry—clean up this mess. I'll be checking back in five minutes."
As the Dominie stormed off, the car erupted into hushed murmurs. Henry knelt to pick up a sandwich, shaking his head with a theatrical sigh. "Well, there goes my spotless reputation," he said sarcastically, loud enough for everyone to hear, which earned him a round of quiet laughter.
The other two boys with him crouched down to help— one of them—a wiry-looking boy with glasses—whispering something that made Henry laugh again. August watched them, torn between the urge to retreat into his compartment and the strange pull of their energy.
Before he could make up his mind, Henry's eyes flicked up, catching August's gaze. For a moment, August froze. Then Henry grinned and called out to him, "Enjoying the show?"
A flush crept up August's neck. "I—I wasn't—"
Henry waved a hand, cutting him off. "No need to explain. I don't blame you—it's exciting stuff, isn't it?"
The boy with glasses smirked. "Maybe he wants to help."
Henry tilted his head, studying August with mock seriousness. "What do you say, stranger? Want to join our merry band of misfits? It's quite nice, you know."
August blinked, startled by the invitation, his mind racing. Was this how friendships started? He didn't know how to respond. Before he could answer, Henry started again.
"I'm taking your silence as a yes. Let me introduce you to everyone." He smiled, gesturing to the two boys next to him.
"First, my name is Oliver, not Henry. Henry is my last name. It does cause a lot of confusion, so don't feel bad if you call me the wrong name." The other two boys snickered at him quietly.
"This is Leo Bennett, he's the sharpest mind you'll ever meet, though don't let his glasses fool you—he's also the best at getting us into trouble."
Leo rolled his eyes, adjusting his glasses carefully. "Thanks for the glowing review, Oliver. I'm sure that'll help him feel at ease."
"And last but not least," Oliver continued, ignoring the jab, "this charming fellow here is Samuel Prescott. He's our strategist, master planner, and occasional voice of reason—when he's not enabling me, that is."
Samuel, a boy with tousled blond hair and an easygoing smile, gave August a small wave. "That's a fancy way of saying I help clean up his messes," he said, his tone light.
August hesitated, unsure what to say. It felt strange to have all three boys' attention focused on him, their expressions expectant, awaiting his response. "I'm August," he said finally, his voice quieter than he intended. "August Wintern."
"Well, August Wintern," Oliver said, brushing his hands together as if sealing a deal, "you're officially one of us now. Congratulations."
"Wait, what?" August blinked again, his cheeks warming. "I didn't say—"
"Too late," Oliver interrupted with a grin. "We've claimed you. There's no going back."
Leo smirked. "Welcome to the chaos."
August found himself smiling slightly despite his nerves. It was an unfamiliar feeling, this mixture of awkwardness and warmth. He wasn't entirely sure what he'd gotten himself into, but something about their easy banter and confidence felt inviting. The quiet jealousy that had lingered at the edges of his mind had begun to fade. For the first time since arriving, he felt like he wasn't just observing from the outside. He felt that in some small way, he was a part of their group.
"Now," Oliver said, clapping his hands together, "since we're all acquainted, how about a little teamwork? Let's finish cleaning this up before the Dominie comes back and decides to take points off all our houses."
"Houses?" August asked, furrowing his brow.
"Ah, yes," Samuel chimed in. "St. Alaric's loves its traditions. We're all divided into houses—think of it like teams. Oliver and I are in House Castor, and Leo here is in House Aurelian."
"What about you, August?" Oliver asked, pausing mid-reach for a fallen sandwich.
"I don't know yet," August admitted. "I'm new."
"Fresh blood!" Oliver declared dramatically. "Even better. We'll make sure you're off to a great start—assuming you survive the Dominie's wrath."
Leo chuckled. "We should probably hurry up, then."
As the four of them worked together to set the trolley upright and gather the scattered food, August felt a flicker of something he hadn't expected—belonging. Maybe, just maybe, this new school wouldn't be as lonely as he'd feared.