The Better Clan

II

“I COULD SHOW YOU AROUND." SAID A VOICE.

We turn to see a 6”1 tall blond boy staring at us—mostly at Danielle, his eyes all bleary. Great, just great! I thought.

He thrusted his left arm towards Danielle, possibly wanting a handshake. “Mendelsohn Sinclair, House of Jeduthun. You are?”

Danielle had since lost her tongue, “I… I um… well…”

“Danielle Fletcher,” I cut in “I’m Raymond Fletcher, her brother… and I’m 5’10.” I said with my tone carrying a hint of irritation, if I thought I gave the impression of a brooding father or even an over-protective brother, no one else did.

“Well then, shall we?” He gestured towards the hallway, not really caring about handshakes anymore.

I scan his appearance; he was carrying his uniform in a plastic bag and a brown bag like the rest of us, and he wasn’t with any of the students who seemed to know their way around, which meant he was a new student and judging from his size, possibly a freshman.

“You’re new here, aren’t you?” I ask as a-matter-of-factly.

“Ay!” He scratched his head.

I look over at Danielle, meaning my eyes to say; ditch him.

But girls can be stupid when they think they’re being defiant, either that or she hadn’t caught my facial expression, which was something she’d recently started to do. She looked over at Mendelsohn—heck of a name—and grinned.

“We’d appreciate your help, but aren’t you lost yourself?”

“Well not exactly. I’m a sophomore, transferred from another school, my father’s the Principal. But I was here during the holidays.”

“Doing what?” I ask.

“Taking the admission tests.” He shrugged.

I turn to Danielle. “We never took any tests!”

“Yes we did!” She scowled. “Remember those online tests Mom said could help increase our IQ?”

“Oh-”

How she came up with that, I have no clue; it was probably part of everything she’d been doing. I was beginning to think she liked it here. I hung my head in defeat; I had hoped that would’ve been my ticket to escape.

I straightaway began to regret why I had tried so hard to ace that test. Mom had made it seem like she had wanted us to build our IQ, and we turned competitive, even betting our steaks. At the end we both had the same score: 162. And we never got to take the test again.

That woman!!!

I wasn’t gonna go down without a fight. “But how’re you so sure?”

“Because we both know that your IQ isn’t up to 182, you’re 12 for crying out loud.” She was yelling now.

“That’s‒”

Mendelsohn—Sinclair from now on—cut in, “Ay, there’s no rule that says 12-year-olds can’t have an IQ that high.” He shrugged.

Silence.

So that hurt, but I was gonna let it slide because we basically had other bigger problems to worry about.

“Thanks, um...” I stroke my chin.

He seemed to get the idea. “Mendelsohn Sinclair.” He bowed.

“Right, can I just call you Sinclair?”

“Fine with me!” He smiled.

I had actually begun to like him.

“Now that you guys know who I am, mind if I showed you around?” He said like he hadn’t asked before.

“Fine with me!” I mimicked.

“Alright lads,” he turned around “This way!”

We left what he called the Admissions office—which seemed to me like more of large ballroom, which computers and stuff—and towed our suitcases to a building beside it that was the Faculty office. After refusing Sinclair’s prodding to take a look inside we turned around and went in the opposite direction.

I turn my head sideways. “Um… aren’t classes that way?” I said as I spot faint outlines of buildings that looked like schools on my left.

“Yeah, but they don’t start until tomorrow.” Sinclair replied.

“Tomorrow?!” I almost yell. “Then what’s the rest of today for?”

“The first three days are all for orientations,” He said without looking back. “Some people here aren’t really aware of their new surroundings and all, and this school’s pretty big, both on the inside and outside...”

I exchange puzzled looks with Danielle—or rather just glanced at her face and turned away—I did realise it was big though, the school I mean. It seemed like a fifteen minute walk from where we stood to even the closest buildings I spotted.

“…The official orientations start by 2pm for day students—excluding the elementary and kindergarten kids, they get brochures instead—and 4pm for boarders. I’m guessing you guys are both boarders, judging from your suitcases.” I heard Sinclair say.

How in the world could a school be big on the inside? I wondered what Mom would think if she found out she had sent us to a school had portals that opened up to different versions of itself in other universes—or something related to that.

“Why can’t everyone just have the same orientations at once?” Danielle asked.

“Try that, and you’ve got over eight hundred students trolling around the place, father wouldn’t want a stampede on his hands.”

“This school’s that big?” said Danielle, as if she hadn’t just been told.

When no one answered I saw her pinch her elbows, something she did when she was thinking. “Isn’t that exactly what’s happening now?” She finally came up with, looking around for emphasis.

Sinclair shrugged, “You’ve got a point, but my opinion was just an intelligent guess.” He smiled at her.

I was glad when she didn’t get any answers the first time.

Two minutes later, we were standing in front of a dome-shaped building, painted orchid and surrounded by trees. “In front of you lays the school’s theatre and multi-purpose hall,” Sinclair gestured with his arm. “Called the Great Hall for short, I think that’s mostly because of its size.”

How I caught that I’m not even sure, while he was busy explaining all the stuff the hall was used for I was thinking of the statues we had passed by, and then back to my prior thought of how I was going to get by in a school that recognized weirdly named clans.

Now that I thought of it, I never found out more about those. I tap Danielle’s shoulder, but she wouldn’t respond, my guess being that she’d had enough of me and my whining. In my defense, I was only trying to find out more. I suddenly remember I'm mad at her and bring my hand down.

We turned left and walked towards the schools. There were four buildings—one for each level of education I guess. Sinclair showed us inside the middle and high schools.

I kind of zoned out on the whole tour thing after a while, mostly because it seemed like Danielle was the only person getting the entire tour guide’s attention. I’d started to pay more thought to the conversations from other students around, and to be honest they were more exciting.

“I wish my brother wasn’t from that clan, now he won’t shut up about swords and katanas.” “I just hope I won’t make a fool of myself here, people have really high expectations whenever my clan’s involved.”

I couldn’t take it anymore, I tug Sinclair’s sleeve, not minding how childish it looked. “What’s your clan? And why doesn’t anyone shut up about clans here?”

He smiled down at me, and then answered only one of the questions. “I told you earlier, House of Jeduthun.”

“Jeduthun?”

I thought he was joking when he said that.

“Yeah, how ‘bout you guys?”

Danielle chirped in. “It’s Sofer Mahir. Where do they get these names from right?” She laughed nervously.

“Some of them are Hebrew. Like yours, and mine too, and one’s Greek, but you guys are on a whole different level on the social scale now.”

I forced a compliment, mostly because I wasn’t sure if that was a positive thing or otherwise. Plus, it was the best I could do in my cluelessness “You too!”

Sinclair shrugged, “Well not really,” he said with a nervous laugh “All we can do is sing and write poems.”

“Uh-huh.” I moped. “What can we do?”

He gasped. “You don’t know?!”

I look over at Danielle, again.

“Well, no.” She pushed her glasses up her nose for the zillionth time; she’d never liked them at first until boys started noticing her. Now she was always drawing attention to it. Look at my glasses; I’m much cuter with it.

“Then I fear you guys are in for a ride.” He said laughing even louder this time.

My mind trailed off, for a second I hoped he’d tell us we were part of some ancient Ninja clan that had spawned its way through many civilizations. No such luck.

“Would you mind showing us some of your clan’s… um… hobbies?”

Sinclair was grinning from ear to ear now, obviously enjoying this terrible joke. “Well it’s more of a gift than a hobby, and my poems are terrible, they…”

I knew we should have ditched this kid.

But then he stood up for me.

Big deal, I was just gonna stand up for myself the moment he started speaking.

Uh-huh?!

Whatever!

I shake my head in an attempt to clear out the argument I was having with myself.

“Shall we continue our tour?” Sinclair gestured to what I could make out were the athletics fields.

“Um… I think we’ll wait for the orientations, could you just show us the way to the dorms?” I drew attention to my bags.

Danielle shot me a mean look. I try my best to ignore.

“Uh, sure.” Sinclair rubbed his neck. “Guess I’ll see you at the orientations then?”

“You’re a boarder?” Danielle’s eyes had brightened up again.

“Yeah I am.”

“I don’t see any bags or suitcases.”

“That’s because father’s got them. I was actually going to get ‘em ere—pardon—before I saw you two standing out there, looking all lost and tangled up in the rush.”

“Great! Well thanks for your help.” I thrust my arm forward.

“I’m not done yet,” he chuckled. “I still have to show you the dorms.”

“Right.”

The dorms weren’t dorms at all.

Imagine a sub-urban sized area filled with apartment buildings and surrounded with seven-foot fences and gates just as high. That was the school’s idea of a dormitory.

Nine minutes we had dropped Danielle off at the girls’ own side of the dorm, but not before Sinclair insisted on hooking her up with another girl. Then we wandered off to get Sinclair’s bags.

“Father says we’re both in the same apartment.” Sinclair said as he heaved a duffel bag on his shoulder, dragging another on the concrete. I giggled at the word; apartment. It seemed a lot appropriate to be honest.

“How’d he know that?” I ask.

“He said he recognized you, he has a good brain for that kind of stuff you know.”

“So where’s our…” I couldn’t help chuckling. “…apartment then?”

He pointed to a tall gray building, standing between similar buildings. “Over there. It’s named after a stone; you probably won’t like it if I told you.”

I bugged him to tell me until we passed the ground floor and climbed the stairs.

“I have every right to know!” I argue.

“But then you’d bolt out of here.” He said with a tone that kinda gave the impression that he was joking and also didn’t care.

“But‒” I pause as I take in the sight before me.

The first floor was a hellhole; boys wearing only their underwear screamed and howled and ran over each other like startled horses, some of the new boarders were huddled together, shaken to the spine. Some brave ones were joining the train wreck however. The place reeked of death and disease—or maybe just dirty underwear and stale falafel, don’t even ask how I’m sure.

Sinclair seemed to enjoy it all; he even smiled at a few of the boys as we moved along, probably sophomores he took the exams with. I was overjoyed to find an elevator that actually worked. But that joy was short-lived, I stepped back the moment I looked inside. It was much worse than the lobby; there was actual stale falafel on the elevator floor, coupled with a few dirty socks and torn shorts.

“Don’t we have a janitor or something?” I cup my hands over my mouth and shout. The screams from the hall drowning mine out.

“They prefer to be called custodians,” He yelled back. “And they do a pretty neat job, this is all from today!” he said as if it was a thing to be proud of.

I don’t know why, but I was kind of grateful.

“Why is there falafel everywhere then?” I yell again.

“Oh that’s what we’re meant to have for breakfast. But its clear most people don’t like it.” He smirked.

“Alright.” I managed to keep any growing resentment under control, but I wasn’t going to stay at the ground floor, that was certain. “Where’s my floor.”

He signaled for me to get in the elevator, and to his surprise I hastily did; but don’t blame me, I was only glad I wasn’t staying with a bunch of barbarians. “Each student is given a room in either of two floors according to their clans.” He said, coming in after me “The Sofer Mahirs occupy the third and fourth floor in every apartment.”

“So you’re saying I’m likely to meet more civilized people in my floor?”

“Ay.”

I heave a sigh of relief; at least I wasn’t going to wake up to the sound of two semi-nude boys howling and jumping on the bed, or worse still, two muscular boys hurling my stuff all over the place.

“Who are those kids?” I ask, though absent-minded.

Sinclair waved his finger around the number four button. “You mean those guys? They’re Klei-Milchamahs, although that’s no excuse to be so wild.”

“Clay what?”

“Not clay; Klei, as in K-L-E-I. They all have the tendency to be hyper-active once they meet other boys from their clan, even the introverted ones.”

“They belong to another clan?”

“Ay. What’s your room number?”

“Never got one.” I shrug.

“Nay! Everyone gets one, look inside the brown bag.”

I had started to open it when a boy jumped in front of the elevator; he had huge biceps and thick thighs—which I could pretty much tell because he was wearing only a white vest and red boxer shorts with pink polka dots. I accidentally drop the bag when he starts shrieking and banging the walls with his huge fists, and I was glad to see him go without picking it up.

“Just hit four!” I yelled over the noise from the hallway as I scramble to pick the bag up.

I crouch as the elevator rose. I hurriedly pry the bag open, inasmuch as I already hated it at this school, I was eager to find my own space. I rummage through the bag and pull out my library card, but only the regular details were on it. I turn the bag on its opening, out tumbled the timetables and the school’s roster, the hard cover book, my locker number and five small tubes with cone-shaped caps I had thought were crayons, and then a white card. I pick it up and read hastily.

To be honest I was quite impressed. It read:

Raymond Fletcher.

Student; Grade VIII.

Sofer Mahir.

Room XXXVIII; Floor IV, Yellow Quartz Apartment.

If found please return to the front desk at the named apartment.

Beside it was a photo of me in a yellow shirt and a matching baseball hat. I wondered how they’d gotten that.

Besides that:

Apartment was an official name after all. And Sinclair was right; I didn’t like our apartment’s name.

“Was there a front desk at the ground floor?” I ask.

“Ay, you didn’t notice it.”

I look over at the card again. “Is everything here branded with Roman figures?”

“Yes. Father’s idea, said it made our school seem a lot more posh. What’s your room?”

“Thirty-eight, fourth floor.”

“Swell! I’m just a floor above you.”

I pack the stuff back into the bag and stuffed it in my suitcase, now I could ask other questions. “What’d you call those kids again?”

“Klei-Milchamahs. Their clan’s name is actually Klei-Milchamah.”

“What does that have to do with that entire ruckus down there?”

“I haven’t a clue, I’m new as well you know.”

“Oh right,” I wanted to quit the questions there, but my tongue had taken over again. “They have gifts too?”

“They’re divided into two paths: Warriors and Healers. The healers are predominantly female, which might explain what’s going on downstairs.”

“So the Klei-Milchamahs are basically a warrior clan?”

“Yeah, you could call them that if you want to be tagged a sexist here. But each of those lads you saw is gifted in wielding one weapon or the other.”

The sound of shrieking from the second floor flowed into the elevator, muffled by the elevator door. I made a mental note to look out for flying swords and nunchucks anytime I walked through floors one and two.

“Any other clans I should know about?”

“Aw chap; you’re all questions and interrogations.” He frowned.

I watch my face turn red on one of the reflective surfaces. “Sorry, I can’t help it.”

“I’ll pardon you, just because you’re new.” He smirked. “But remember, I’m new as well.”

I nod in anticipation. “Yessir.”

He shook his head. “There are the chaps who can torch your entire school supplies in one flick of the wrist.”

I can swear that my mouth dropped two feet on hearing that.

He burst into fits of laughter. “I’m only kidding, only the skilled ones can… and that’s if you make ‘em really mad.” The elevator doors opened up revealing a neater lobby that wasn’t littered with dirty shorts, but the trash cans were overflowing with bags of falafel.

“Don’t any of the authorities notice this?”

“I t-told y-you lad, I’m new h-h-here.” He was still laughing as he handed me my suitcases when I stepped outside the elevator. “The fire guys are called Fotiἀns, their clan’s name is Fotiἀ.”

“How then are we gonna survive if I don’t know what I can do and you’ve only got poetry?” I stare at him.

“Well your clan’s pretty neat. And mine isn’t only full of poets; it’s got paths as well: Minstrels, Nehiloth and Bards. But the difference between us Jeduthuns and Klei-Milchamahs is that any Jeduthun could belong to all three paths or as many as they’re gifted with.”

“What’s a Nehiloth?”

“People skilled with musical instruments. The Minstrels are singers and other related stuff.”

“How many do you belong to?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“Just the Bards, but I’m hoping I can be an Alamoth someday.”

I raise an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

”Oh right, I didn’t tell you at first. They’re a special bunch of Jeduthuns, although they’re not classified as a path. They’ve got such incredible power; they can hypnotize you and/or crumble a whole building just by screaming.”

There were people who could scream louder than the boys from the warrior clan?

Splendid! Yet another clan that’s got dangerous people to look out for. I mused. “So you’re Dad’s a Jeduthun too?”

“Nay, he’s Fotian; same as most of the board members.”

“How’s that possible?”

“Like I told you; everyone’s clan depends on their gift, it isn’t hereditary. You could be Jeduthun while your parents were Klei.”

“What about me then?!” I ask more from fright than a sense of feeling left out.

“You’re on your floor now, you’ll find out soon enough.” He pushed the elevator button.

“Wait—