Free Unnatural by Michael Griffo

front gate doesn’t seem very secure,” Michael said.
    “For decoration only,” Mr. Hawksbry replied. “We have an electronic system that surrounds the entire campus.Since we knew you were arriving today, it was turned off, but once your driver is on the other side of the gate, it’ll be turned on again, I assure you.”
    The headmaster then pointed out some landmarks, the three libraries, the many halls where classes were taught, each named after a different saint; the theatre, which housed both a traditional proscenium arch stage for mainstage productions and a smaller black box studio space for more experimental theatre; the infirmary; and the several dormitories.
    Michael’s dorm, named after St. Peter, was located next to Archangel Cathedral, which was the one architectural exception and towered high above the rest of the campus’s buildings. Erected sometime in the fifteenth century in the Gothic style by a group of monks, it was, Mr. Hawskbry explained, the centerpiece of the academy, which was later built around it. Looking at the church, Michael understood why the academy’s founders would want to build their school around such an amazing structure.
    There were no steps leading into the entrance, only wildflowers, dirt, and then an arched doorway about two stories high, adorned with carvings similar to those on the frame of the mirror in the greeting room. Above the door was where more majesty lay. Two flying buttresses flanked the sides of the center pointed arch, which was made up of an intricate lattice of wood in front of a huge circle of yellow stained glass. Even though the sky was cloudy, with only a portion of thesun able to shine through and hit the cathedral, the effect was still magnificent. The yellow glass in the sun’s light glowed radiantly, splintering through the latticework to create beacons of light that sprang out from the face of the church into the air and onto all those who walked by. Again, Michael felt worlds away from Weeping Water.
    When Mr. Hawskbry spoke, he startled Michael, who was staring intently at the rays of light. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? The perfect combination of man and nature.”
    Yes, Michael thought, a perfect combination.
    Just as they were about to enter St. Peter’s Dormitory, Michael noticed a group of boys in the distance in a rush, either coming or going to a class. He felt a familiar tingle in his stomach as he watched them race by, their white long-sleeved shirts turned up at the sleeves, pieces of cloth untucked from their navy blue pants, their gold and navy blue ties flying in the wind. And their hair, soft, unruly, free. He forced himself to glance away from them and saw that Mr. Hawksbury was staring at him.
    “Don’t worry. Your father ordered you several uniforms. They should be hanging in your closet.”
    When he walked into the dormitory, Michael felt a bit of melancholy waft over him. It was just as beautiful as it was on the outside and he was so grateful that he was in this building and not at Two W, but the only reason he was here was because his mother killed herself. Why was she so desperate? Why was she so afraid tolive? His eyes burned a bit and he blinked away the tears. No, not here, not ever again, because tears weren’t going to change anything.
    “This is your room.” They were on the second floor in front of a door just off the stairs. Before Mr. Hawksbry could knock, the door opened and standing there was a boy roughly Michael’s age wearing a neater version of the school uniform. “Ciaran Eaves,” the headmaster said, “may I introduce you to your new dorm mate, Michael Howard, from America.”
    “Welcome to the Double A, mate,” Ciaran said, extending his hand.
    “Thank you.” Michael grabbed his hand and was grateful that the tingling in his stomach didn’t return. He was also hopeful that the only thing the Double A had in common with the Two W was a similar abbreviation.
    The headmaster did a quick survey