Welcome To Rosehead Academy

Day 1:

The wrought iron gates of Roseberry Academy loomed high, a stark contrast to the chain-link fence around Karlos' old high school back in Jersey. Expelled. That word still echoed in his skull, a constant reminder of the spectacular dumpster fire he’d made of his last semester. And now, here he was, dumped like a sack of potatoes on the doorstep of some fancy boarding school in the middle of the English countryside, courtesy of his exasperated mother.

He clutched his worn leather duffel bag, the only luggage he owned, and trudged up the long, gravel driveway. England. Private school. This was officially the most ridiculous thing that had ever happened to him. He’d gone from surviving on pizza and late-night video games to… well, he wasn’t quite sure what he was surviving on now. Probably crumpets or something equally depressing.

The Headmaster, a tall, wiry man with a perpetually surprised expression and a tweed jacket that looked older than Tyler's grandpa, if not older than his grandpa's grandpa, greeted him with a hesitant smile.

"Ah, Karlos, welcome. Welcome to Roseberry. I trust your journey was... tolerable?"

Tolerable was not the word. "Yeah, fine," Karlos mumbled, resisting the urge to scratch the back of his neck. He felt acutely aware of his faded jeans and worn hoodie amongst the polished wood and hushed tones of the Headmaster's office.

"Good, good. Now, Luke will show you around. He's a fine young man, a keen student. Luke?"

A lanky boy with messy brown hair and kind eyes stepped forward. "Hello, Karlos. Welcome to Roseberry." He offered a hesitant handshake. Karlos returned it, surprised by the boy's genuine warmth.

Luke led him out of the office and into a labyrinth of echoing corridors and grand, oak-panelled rooms. "So, this is the main building," Luke explained, gesturing vaguely. "Classrooms, library, Headmaster's office, naturally. We'll pass the dining hall later. It's… an experience."

Karlos snorted. “Everything’s an experience here.”

Luke chuckled. “That’s one way to look at it.” He pointed to a sprawling green field visible through a large window. "That's the cricket pitch. A big deal here, apparently."

"Cricket?" Karlos raised an eyebrow. "Sounds boring."

Luke shrugged. "It can be. But the socials are good, It is also used for Football and Rugby."

As they rounded a corner, a group of boys blocked their path. Karlos glared at one, they were taller and broader than the others but just shorter than himself, with a sneer permanently etched onto his face, he stepped forward. He had perfectly sculpted hair, a Roseberry blazer that looked brand new, and an air of arrogant entitlement that made Karlos' skin crawl.

"Well, well, well," the boy drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "What have we here? A new charity case? Fresh off the boat, are we?"

Luke sighed audibly. "Tyler, this is Karlos. He's new here."

"Karlos" Tyler repeated, as if the name tasted bad in his mouth. "From…?" He paused, waiting for Karlos to fill in the embarrassing details.

"New Jersey," He spoke with a hint of disgust, keeping his voice level. "Got a problem with that?"

Tyler smirked. "Just wondering if they make denim that faded over there, or if you've just had it for, say, a decade?"

Tyler balled his fists. He hadn't even been here for an hour, and he already wanted to punch someone. "Maybe I like it faded," he growled.

"Boys, boys," Luke interjected, stepping between them. "Let's not start on the wrong foot, shall we? Come on, Karlos, I'll show you to your dorm."

He pulled Karlos away, leaving Tyler and his cronies, Nick and Jane, snickering behind them. "Sorry about that," Luke said, as they walked down another hallway. "That's Tyler Hawthorne. Best to avoid him if you can. He enjoys… provoking people."

"Yeah, I got that vibe," Karlos muttered, still simmering with anger.

The dorm was surprisingly spacious, with two single beds, a shared desk, and a small window overlooking the gardens. “This is… nicer than I expected,” He reluctantly admitted.

"Most of the dorms are like this," Luke said. "You'll be sharing with another boy, but he's away this weekend. Should be back by Tuesday."

Karlos dropped his duffel bag on the floor. "So, what do people do around here for fun? Besides cricket, obviously."

"There's the common room with a pool table and some games," Luke explained. "And the library is actually pretty good if you're into that sort of thing. There are also societies, like debate club, chess club, that sort of thing."

He scoffed. "Sounds riveting."

Luke smiled patiently. "It's not for everyone. Just give it a chance, alright? You might be surprised." He tapped Karlos on the shoulder. "I should get going. See you at dinner?"

"Sure," He said, trying to sound enthusiastic.

After Luke left, He unpacked his meagre belongings. He hung his few shirts in the wardrobe, laid out his toiletries on the small shelf in the bathroom and then just sat on the edge of the bed, staring out the window. The perfectly manicured gardens, the ancient stone buildings, the hushed atmosphere… it all felt alien and oppressive.

He missed the noise and chaos of home. He missed his friends, even though he knew they probably wouldn’t approve of how he ended up here. He even missed the smell of his mum's burnt toast.

He took out his phone and scrolled through his contacts, hesitating over his mum's number. He knew she was worried about him but the thought of admitting he was struggling in this place filled him with shame. He shut off his phone and threw it onto the bed.

He was stuck here. He had a week to adjust before classes started on Monday. A week to figure out this strange new world. A week to avoid Tyler Hawthorne and his smug face. A week to stop feeling like a complete and utter fish out of water.

Karlos sighed and slowly leaned back on the bed. This was going to be a long year.

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