No bell, no buzzer, no shouting, or any other signal, yet all the students start moving toward the entrance as one—it’s as impressive as it is weird—and I follow them inside, as invisible as possible. Although I have seen the school from the outside many times, I’ve never been inside, and therefore I’m totally unprepared for what I’m about to experience. This school doesn’t look like a... well... school. It’s a far cry from my old one, built in a failed attempt to be modern and failing more each year. It’s a crossover between a dungeon and a cathedral. The sound of our footsteps bounces hard and relentlessly back from the walls, floor, and ceilings, which are all made of bricks that are such a deep shade of black they seem to absorb all the light. The only windows that allow any daylight in are small horizontal slits placed against the ceiling, at least five meters high. Apart from some electric lights, I can’t detect anything that is remotely modern or even from this century, evoking the sensation that with every step, we are not only going deeper underground but also further back in time. I’m more intimidated than I like to admit. There you go, Tinderstick, the first day of the rest of your life.
I quicken my pace. I need to stop by the janitor’s office to register first. But before I can even take one step, I find myself face down on the floor, knocked over by a student at least two years older and four times my size.
“Out of the way, vermin. Can’t you see I’m walking here?” he growls in a low, rumbling voice. He’s nearly as wide as he is tall; his shirt barely contains his massive biceps, his rectangular jaw blends seamlessly into his broad shoulders, and a malicious glint sparkles in his deep-set eyes.He looks like a Neanderthal, the kind who smashes his victim to a pulp before asking questions.
Fascinated, I watch students jump out of his way when he disappears into the school with devastating steps. Fred Flintstone rules the corridors.
Not wanting to attract more attention by being late, I scramble back to my feet and hurry on, but when I approach the janitor’s office, that Slug-boy from the square is already there. How is that even possible? The “incident” with Fred Flintstone couldn’t have taken more than a minute, yet here he is. With his unnaturally enlarged eyes, he looks up at a man who appears as crooked and weathered as a dead tree branch. His face is an explosion of wrinkles and creases, but between all the pleats and folds, two keen eyes glisten, young and bright. From the school guide, I know his name is Williams, and that I need to check in with him on my first day.
As I approach, the boy slowly turns to me and says, in a much higher voice than I expected, “Hello... you... are... also... new... here... aren’t... you?” I look at him in bewilderment. He speaks the way he moves—not like anything I’ve ever encountered before. In the time it takes him to finish a sentence, I could read a book. “We... are... in... the... same... class... right?” he continues with a friendly, open face while caressing the enormous schoolbag hanging from his shoulders.
“Eh, well, I guess so.”
“Nice...!” And without another word, he turns around. Astonished, I watch him disappear into the corridor until I’m yanked back to reality by the janitor.
“It’s a beautiful morning, isn’t it, missus?”
I look up in surprise. The voice is frayed and ragged, as though distorted by decades of chain-smoking.
"Eh... yes. I suppose so. My name is Max. I'm new here."
"I know, I know, Miss Kwintens, and I'm quite happy you do as well. But then again, you look bright enough."
"Ah... right," I answer tentatively, not sure what to make of this rather odd remark. "I'm supposed to check in with you?" The spiderweb of wrinkles transform into a broad smile. "Only a formality from ancient days, Miss Kwintens. A word of welcome from the janitor, so here you go: 'Welcome!'"
"Thanks… I guess? And now?"
"Now you belong to this school, officially and all. From now on, you can't get rid of us anymore. Time for your first lesson. I assume you have your schedule?"
"Well... kind of."
"Hahaha... kind of. Excellent, Miss Kwintens, really excellent." Unexpectedly swift, he turns around and enters his small office... right through the door!? Quickly, I turn around to see if anyone else has noticed, but none of the passing students looks up.
No, of course not, I mumble to myself. It's impossible. Get it together, Tinderstick.
Luckily, I know exactly where all the classrooms are located in this maze-like medieval school. The perks of having a photographic memory—just one of the many things I’ll keep to myself. I just don’t want the hassle or attention. Before you know it, everyone will be trying to steal my answers during exams.
I shrug off my confusion and start walking. Almost there. Last corner and… my mouth falls open. That Slug-boy is already here. How is this even possible, the way he moves? But before I can think about it further, things happen very quickly.
He seems to be confronted by Fred Flintstone, the Neanderthal who knocked me over only minutes ago. Although Slug looks up at him with his most innocent smile, he must have said something to offend the boy, who is at least four times his size, as big red spots rise from his enormous neck to his broad cheekbones and low forehead.
I’m too far away to hear what he’s saying, but it’s all too clear: this is about to escalate really quickly! Fred Flintstone is on the verge of exploding. I need to help, but before I can even move, Fred raises a fist the size of a small container.
I want to yell, but my warning ends in an inaudible squeak when the fist is coming down with devastating force. I brace myself for the excruciating sound of Slug’s nasal bone being shattered by his own spectacles.
But when that fist reaches the spectacles, they’re no longer there—nor is the nose they rested upon. The ear-deafening sound shaking the corridor comes from a boy-giant staring in disbelief at the large hole he has punched in the massive black brick wall, exactly where Slug stood just a second ago.
Everyone looks flabbergasted at the round boy, now standing two meters further to the left, observing the scene with mild interest, before he turns away and enters the classroom, as if it has nothing to do with him.