Tales of a million first days tumbled through my mind. These tumbleweeds only increased my anxiety as I followed the orderly line of initiates taking measured, careful steps toward the double doors offering admittance to the most prestigious school for villains.
As I passed through the ivy-covered gates, my new school unveiled itself. My nervousness mingled with confusion as I took my first look at this edifice. Despite the throng anxiously marching toward it, the building looked beyond deserted. It gave all appearances of a derelict structure left to molder. In fact, one of the front doors with weathered paint and rusted hinges hung askew.
This served to make the newest recruits aware of each other as our steps slowed, our jaws went slack, and our worried eyes sought answers in the gazes of those nearest to us. When the first bell sounded with surprising clarity, a dozen of us stood on the broken pavement, trying to decide if following those who bravely stepped through those doors would bring us the riches and recognition promised by our call to oppose law-abiding citizens and heroes everywhere.
“Ah. My class awaits me,” a voice crackled behind us.
I jumped and turned toward the speaker. My companions reacted the same for the most part. One didn’t react at all. Probably because giant headphones consumed his ears and denied admittance to outside sounds. A girl tossed long, brassy locks of hair as she acknowledged the sound with half a wry grin before focusing her attention on the doors once more.
Those of us who turned found ourselves transfixed. I wondered if I had just been turned to stone. The woman before us stood close to six feet tall with long dreads cascading past her shoulders so that a first glance left one thinking Medusa had stepped out of ancient myths. Then she smiled and one pictured a coyote about to take down its prey as she tossed back the long green cloak on her shoulders to raise her hands.
“Come on class. It is time to start learning,” her voice rumbled like distant thunder as she shooed us toward the broken doorway.
More than one set of eyes rolled in silent protest as heavy feet stepped slowly toward the door. I fell in with my peers as our teacher marched us forward. She called out directions from behind until we finally found our way into a classroom devoid of all seating except a long bench against one window.
“Please sit down.”
We obeyed, compelled more by something in her voice than her fierce appearance. As we sat, somehow we all came to attention. I exchanged glances with the people on either side of me. One shrugged slightly as if such things should be expected. The other’s eyes widened almost to the point of hysteria. I decided not to seek reassurance from that quarter anymore. As the rustling of situating ourselves died down, the teacher spoke again.
“Every year, we get a new crop of the worst and baddest up and coming villains. Each year, we also find a new location for our school. In fact, it is not unusual to seek out a new venue more than once during the course of a school year. Thus your school greeted you with one door off its hinges and very little furnishing to make your educational experience easy.”
She paused to take a deep breath and offered a sneer that made my heart stop.
“Well, get used to it. You have embarked on the most difficult career of all because no one really wants you to succeed. But if you succeed, think of the wealth, the notoriety, the satisfaction.”
“And the lair.” Someone whispered to my left.
Our teacher graced them with a withering look. “But some of you will never get any higher than I have. As one of my high school teachers told us, ‘Those who can, do. Those who can’t, teach.’
“Finding out he was right has made me very irritable, so don’t tempt me to practice my villainy on you.”
We all nodded understanding and then the lessons began. As a villain, I would never share our secrets, but within the first half hour, it became apparent that the school required half-demolished buildings and it had nothing to do with secrecy.
~~~
I feel like you might want to know more. I do, but my brain hasn’t committed to digging deeper. Maybe someday I will get real sleep and write more and make excuses less?
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