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St. Andrews' Saints	By : limonize Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Savage Garden Views: 1156 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Savage Garden. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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ST. ANDREWS' SAINTS 2

Darren seemed as determined to avoid the others, as I was, in avoiding him. Although I kept an eye on his as the Headmaster had instructed. I noted that he walked alone with his head down and did not easily mingle with the boys in his form, seeming to take no interest in their idle chatter. I reckoned he was homesick, as were we all, although we were a little more circumspect about letting others see it.

After a week of watching him bury his nose in his books, I became curious enough to ask him where he was from, and what he expected to gain from acting like a shy colt.

"I'm from Canterbury," he answered. "And I'm not used to so many boys..." he answered.

"Not used to so *many*?" I asked, trying to hide my incredulity. "Why this is a modest lot – what do you think may happen if you should pass "O" levels?"

"Why, I should be able to hide then, because with so many, no one will see me!" he answered no-nonsensically. "These lads here know I am new in the gate, and mean to have their laughs…"

"You won't deny them their pleasure..." I answered sagely. "As we speak, they are making their plans. It is only a matter of a day or so before you are auctioned off among the three most powerful sixth-formers."

"Auctioned off??" he looked at me with with a piteous, overt sulk which belied the quiet, impenetrability of his ocean-coloured eyes.

"As we speak," I reiterated. "There is Sir Gantry, Sir Butterworth – we call him "Butters" - and Sir Caldicott, the most wicked of the three.

"Can I – is there some way to avoid Sir Caldicott?"

"Were it myself...I would likely beg "Butters" by telling him the special favours you'd grant him if he would put in a good bid.

"And what might he prefer?" Darren stammered, obviously still very disturbed over the news.

"You might – assuming your English and Latin is good and clever, volunteer to do some of his papers. Make sure he is kept in wines...and always tend to his reputation. Many people are prone to snide commentary over his slowness in all things..."

"How is it he is one of the feared three?"

"I shan't go into that today. And so you make no mistake – you owe me one on this, and shall remain ever tight-lipped about such discussions as this!"

"Most certainly, Master Daniel! I thank you from the bottom of my heart!" He grabbed me by the waist, but then gently drew himself up and embraced me in such a way as I could not ignore his body scent, which far from being objectionable, reminded me of the pleasantest of autumn forest freshness. He held me fast until his breath made itself felt upon my neck in a not altogether uncomfortable way.

Nonetheless, I had to assert my position.

"Hoi, you do never such a thing here! And I may have to beat you or paddle you as may be my duty, so believe not an instant that I am soft to your overtures!"

He ignored me, and kissed me on the cheek sweetly in gratitude, and in spite of myself I could not avoid a smile which I hid behind my hand as I went to adjust my hair part.

It had been so long since I had enjoyed such an affection from someone. A hug from Daddy's maidservant at Christmas was the last my memory held. She was a thin, bony woman, kind, but not plush, nor warm.

Darren's warmth had been plush, though not of the huge "Butters" variety, and would be remembered more favorably.

"Your family in Canterbury..."

"They own a fleet of trading vessels," he replied.

"And are you versed in many languages?" I asked.

"As many as you care to hear..." replied Darren confidently. "I can even swear in Russian..." he giggled, covering his mouth.

"You shall have to tutor me in these finer arts..." I said, with newfound respect. But not this morning. You had best seek out Butterworth before Caldicott seeks out you..."

A look of fear crossed his forehead again.

"And hide your worries and stop looking like you've emerged from your mother's skirts!" I chastised.

His pout only deepened.

So I slapped him across the face, just hard enough to sting.

"Stiff upper!" I commanded. He looked at me, hurt, as if I had betrayed him, but his answer was correctly applied:

"Yes, sir. I will apply a "stiff upper" as instructed." he answered in a quietly determined, but nonetheless high, audible voice.

Perhaps some pluck was blooming yet.

~ ~ ~

At rounds, where we chose our partners for the bicycle picnic, Darren was left as odd man out until almost the last. I had yet to choose a partner, but it had not occurred to me choose him.

That is, until the Headmaster looked my way, fairly glowering as a I hesitated.

"Em, I choose..."

But Caldicott, arriving late as usual, interrupted me.

"I say – it's my turn!" he declared, shoving himself in next to me, exercising his privilege grinningly. It wasn't really his turn, but the fact was immaterial. One always deferred to sixth formers, particularly Caldicott who could safely be characterised as the meanest bastard at St. Andrews. He chose Darren for his picnic partner, and to Darren's credit – or perhaps he was too overcome with surprise – he did not visibly flinch at the news.

It was not even worth the wonder at what Caldicott would have Darren do...Darren would have to sacrific his bicycle to another student, and carry the heavy picnic basket whilst running to keep up with both boys. They might even have him on a leash to the bicycles to ensure that he kept pace. If he did not, one could expect that they kept a paddle in reserve for such occasions. It was easily a five-mile walk, and there was no way Darren was going to be able to avoid a paddling, and perhaps worse...

I chose another boy and at the first available opportunity, but at the first available opportunity, I went to speak to Butters. Butters was in the middle of downing an ice lolly, something that I was
amazed to see at St. Andrews where such things were forbidden except on the last day before end of session in summer. I knew better to interrupt him in the middle of it. I flashed him a congratulatory smile, and he acknowledged me long enough to blink back at me.

When he had finished slurping the last of it down, I approached him. "Say, Butters...has the lad that's bunked with me talked to you?"

"Ay! He's offered to do some papers if I bid high on him..."

"Do you know he knows how to swear in different languages, and can get some gold from his father at Christmastime?"

"How can a shifty like him do that?"

"His father owns trading vessels – brings many things from everywhere...a little bit of investment now could pay handsomely at Christmastime..."

"Yes, I see..." Butters rubbed his round chin thoughtfully.

"But Caldicott means to take him – he's already got him for the picnic and if he gets a chance to paddle the daylights of out of him, maybe Darren will offer him the gold not to be so hard!"

"Hm-m-m...I see what you mean..." Butters continued to scratch his chin thoughtfully. "I'd best have a good word with Caldicott. But what if Caldicott wants a lot for him?"

"I'd reckon he knows what a good deal he has then, and you'd do well to outbid him while you have the chance, before he discovers the gold!"

"Yes...you're probably right. Well, thanks for that, Master Jones… I'll put in a good word for ye with the Headmaster..."

"Well appreciated!" I answered. As soon as I was out of Butters sight, I broke into a run to find Darren and ensure that he went backto Butters with another ice lolly in hand, somehow.

The picnic was three days away.

~ ~ ~

TBC
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St. Andrews' Saints