He stands in front of the wrought iron gates, large imposing structures affixed to large stone columns, the only visible break in the large stone wall that hid St. Killians from the street and the outside world. Ivy had been allowed to grow over the walls in areas, softening the cold face the school presented to the outside world, though it did little to assuage Cornelius’ worries. He is alone, young, not yet 12, and he stands there with one battered suitcase where his grandfather dropped him off a few minutes ago. He’s been standing there in front of the closed gates since his grandfather pulled away in his old pick-up truck, his younger brother waving good-bye until they turned the corner and were out of sight. He turned from the direction they disappeared and faced the gates, and there he stood, staring, waiting.
A car pulls up a bit up from the gates, and a family gets out. A boy, a girl and their parents. The boy looks to be about the same age as Cornelius, and he is dressed in the school uniform of St. Killians, shiny and new. Cornelius looks at his own grey sweater and black pants, scuffed shoes. If the holes along the seams down near his wrists weren’t clue enough, the lack of emblem and stripes was also proof that Cornelius wasn’t done up proper. He looked at the familial scene as it played out on the sidewalk, mother fussing over her son, father grabbing luggage out of the car trunk, sister skipping around them all. He looked wistfully, unaware he was even doing so. He did not resent them their familial pleasures, he did not look with envy upon the boy’s new clothes and several suitcases, he merely observed what was different from his own experience. He was not without familial love, he had the love of his Grandfather and rarely seen Aunt, but that could not replace a mother and father’s love. So he looked, and wished in his secret heart unaware to himself that the scene that played out before him was starring him, and not the unknown boy.
The family now appropriately laden with luggage approached the gates. Even the young girl helped, carrying a small bag that was still obviously a struggle for her. She refused the offered help of her father, she wanted to be part of this, wanted this connection with her brother, with her family. The mother smiled at Cornelius as they walked past. The boy also looked with the open curiosity of the young, but his attention was divided by negotiating the large suitcase he carried. The father pushed open the gates which had been unlocked the whole time, and the family entered through the gates, and up the gravel drive that lead to the front of the school. A large imposing building, several floors high and done in a style that betrayed it’s age. St. Killians had been here a long time, and the arrival of new students was nothing new to these halls. The family was getting closer to the stairs that led up to the impressive entrance of the hall. Cornelius picked up his suitcase and followed.
