Michael nearly told his parents to turn around about ten times, thinking of his tearful dance instructor and the girls--still dressed to dance--wishing him well at boarding school.  But then he'd remember Merlin's stupid face and would glare at the scenery while his sisters fill the car with chatter.  The conversations were something he was used to and he wondered if he'd find it hard to concentrate on his work without their voices as background.

His whole family had come to wish him off, the dopes.  Especially since the the girls would have to stay in the care (which they wouldn't since they caused more problems than he did).

"Are you sure you want to do this?"  His mother asked for the [i]hundredth[/i] time.  

"Yes, mom."  Even though he wasn't, not really, and fifteen year olds shouldn't be allowed to make life decisions.  This was especially true when one considered those life decisions were based on a hippie who called herself Merlin (he wondered if she was a descendant too or was Merlin himself turned magically into a girl or what- he should've asked).  In all probability he was following the advice of a crazy person.

But the building had looked nice and they had dance.  And he wouldn't have to deal with his sisters until Christmas.  And he'd read the school had kids from all over the world, so if he slipped into his British accent--a trait he'd mostly trained himself out of after years in the states--it wouldn't be as weird.  He'd still be the kid who wore a leotard for fun and enjoyed a manicure every so often, but he couldn't win them all.

Getting out of the car was a hassle because he got at least three hugs from each sister and they messed with his hair and he caught them trying to stick a paper on his back that said [i]I'm a loser[/i].  But they all told him good luck and to write and to get into insurmountable amounts of trouble.

They sprawled all over the car as he and his parents went inside the building and were greeted by the headmistress.  He had to pull his parents away from asking her questions or something equally embarrassing.  They piled into the gym and he was a bit disappointed to hear about the lake, but the curfew didn't bother him as much as it might anyone else because he usually got up early to run or stretch or practice anyway.  It was nice, he supposed, that the student body was so small.  It would be easier to figure out and join the culture here with fewer people.

It was weird, though.  Michael had known about the dead girl (Merlin had told him even before his mother had figured it out in her worrying-stage of his application process) and thought there was more to it but everywhere else he'd heard of where a student died, by the next school year most of the kids were okay.  But the death of this Natalie girl seemed to hang over everyone.  He thought it might be because of the smaller size, but it was still weird to just insert himself into that atmosphere.

As he went to get his packet, his parents bade him farewell--his mother slobbering all over him and his dad being very British and shaking his hand (he winked though, so Michael knew it was mostly an act--he'd been very Americanized over the past decade and just refused to show it).

The only thing that irritated him was that he'd been signed up for Debate club (dammit mom!), which was [i]fine[/i] he guessed, but he'd probably end up skipping it to practice or to get a head start on homework or he could find out more about that girl's death or [i]something[/i]. Maybe actually go, if he felt like it.

[indent]0-Dance
1-English 2
2-Geography
3-PE
4-Science 2
5-Latin 2
6-Maths 2
7-Theater
8-Dance
9-Debate[/indent]

He checked his room number.  It was on the second floor, which he liked because he wouldn't have people making noise above him, in the third room.  Which would have meant something if he knew where he was going.  He glanced at his roommate's name, Rayford Whynn, and hoped he wasn't a real prick.

The room was easy enough to find and luckily his roomie wasn't there yet so he could claim the best bed and put his stuff away.  The room wasn't bad, as far as dorm rooms went.  It was a bit drab but he figured livening up the place wouldn't be too difficult.  If anything, the natural clutter of teenage-boy-dom would make it feel lived in.  Michael looked out the window and couldn't help but grin at the view.  There probably wasn't a bad view with the Academy's surroundings, but a boy stuck in the suburbs like him was amazed.

He figured that was enough sight-seeing--he needed to check out where he'd be dancing--and he left his room.