The Jamestown Virginia School for Gifted Minors

"Oi! Dick'eads!!

The noise of exited and conversational chattering in my living room died down as the eighty odd teenagers turned to face me. By now I had managed to assume a standing position on the back of the sofa with a can of Foster's in my left hand and a smoking spliff tucked behind my ear. It was only twenty past eight and I was already swaying. Most probably because of the five-pint-challenge my mates had set me earlier. I wasn't a tall lad, or particularly broad. I was almost exactly average size for a sixteen year old boy but the presence I commanded as I addressed the room was undeniably gigantic. I looked down upon my assembly of loyal subjects.

"Who's ready t'get fuckin' messy!?"

A colossal roar greeted my query along with a frenzy of pushing and shoving from the mass of youths that barely fit into my small house.

"I said!" I began, leaning forward towards the crowdand nearly toppling from my pedestal as I did thanks to my inebriated coordination, "Who here is up for gettin' fucking messy!?"

The same response came to me again, this time an absolute uproar. The tumultuous racket of hands clapping together and incoherent chanting filled my ears. A sweet, sweet sound.

"Dead brill! It's gonna be bloody ages before I see any of you louts again so I wanna get in a shot with everyone tonight!" I called, to which the louts in question presented the array of shot glasses and beer bongs they'd brought with them especially for tonight. I observed this and grinned.

"Drink up, light up, rack up and have a fucking nice time!"

Bottles of cheap larger and even cheaper vodka were held above their owner's heads and spilled into peoples hair as everyone in the room began wolf whistling and frantically stomping on the floor.

"Oi Oi, none'a that!" I somehow blurted out, laughing as I did so. I nearly fell backwards off of my perch but then was pushed back up by someone behind me. I turned to my savior a tipped an imaginary cap. Then I threw my hands in the air, accidentally dropping my beer into the crowd as I did.

"Friday Night..." I called out, cupping one hand to my ear.
"SOUNDS A'IGHT!!!" came the reply from everyone in the room who knew the call and response, which was everyone.

That was the cue Gazzer was waiting for. the cue to start spinning the decks. The bass pumped out of the huge sub woofer and made the walls of my home begin to shake as "Everday" by Netsky blared into life and apprehensively encroached on the first drop.

"We are the chemical generation! The product of our parent's degeneracy, debauchery and hypocrisy! Don't ever let the man bend you over a stool and fuck you up the arse!"

With this closing statement (that I was quite pleased with) I stage dived off of the sofa and crowd-surfed my way across the room. I was the king here. The hands suspending me off the ground were my golden throne. The thousand pounds my dad had given me to host this going-away party were nothing when compared to the total fortune that my family had earned from selling my dad's patent, but it was still alot of money. I'd seen it spent well on decadent quantities of beer, vodka, Cannabis, MDMA and Nitrous Oxide. Tonight was going to be bloody incredible. Not the biggest party I'd ever had but definitely the best. I, Jim Collins had many, many friends but tonight I'd managed to get together eighty of my closest. There weren't many people who could party as hard as I could but most of them were underneath me right now, keeping my body aloft. Weightless.

The strobes bathed the house in a pandemonium of flashing lights as the tune hit the drop and everybody in the house was cast deep into the rave by the deafening power of Drum and Bass. Far past the point of no return. The undulating pulsation of multi-frequency sound through our entire bodies. The climactic sensation of narcotic fueled euphoria. The deliberate and calculated rebellion against sexual inhibition. it was going to be a good
night.

*****

"Hey pal,"

I stirred from my sleep, not wanting to admit that it had just been a dream and that the going away party had finished two long days ago. This was the first time that I'd been able to remember anything that had happened on that... eventful night. It was a shame that I'd had to wake up now because it would have been a laugh to recall how the rest of the evening had played out. But alas, all the evidence I'd been left with in the morning were unconscious bodies, semen stained bedsheets and a hangover the likes of which I had never expected was possible for a human being to experience.

The headache I was suffering from at that point was evidence that even after a whole day of cleaning up, a nine hour flight and then the journey from the airport (that I thankfully had sleep all the way through), I was still well and truly on a powder comedown. The advice my older brother gave the day before he died resounded clearly in my head; "When the comedown outweighs the good times, that's when you know the party's over." It must have been a fucking banging night to justify how I felt right then. Besides, I reckoned he must have stolen that quote from a film or a book anyway.

"Hey pal, we're here,"

I lolled my head so thatI could see the cab driver. the man was balding and his sweat had already stained a large dark patch on the back of his checkered shirt. I looked out of the window at my immediate surroundings. The cabby had pulled up just outside of a large wire fence. On the other side of the gate I could see what was supposedly the school building about half a mile down a thin, glossy stretch of road. The checkpoint station and the lowered red and white bar indicated that the driver was obviously to lazy to have to show his identification to be allowed through.

I moaned loudly when I swung open the door and walked round to the boot of the car to retrieve my luggage. The bags weighed a ton in my aching, arms and I had to resist dragging them along the ground as I approached the checkpoint, by which stood two impatient security officers. I was shocked at first to see the shiny revolvers on their hips but then remembered I wasn't at home any more. Now I was in a country where gunning down an intruder would earn you a promotion rather than a faeces smeared bed in a filthy prison cell.

"Hey man, my fare!"

I groaned again as I turned back to the car, which had smelled heavily of body odour and ironically, of cheap antiperspirant. I pulled a couple of bills from my pocket, before spotting Old Queen Liz's face (God bless her) and realised that they were twenty-pound notes. After paying the smelly American in the correct currency I sloped over to the armed guards.

"aight lads?" I asked lazily, trying to act calm although the handguns were still freaking me out.

"You with the new cleaning staff boy?" asked one of them, a large black man who too closely resembled Morpheus from the Matrix for it to be funny. I'd had a Matrix Reloaded poster in my room back at my old London house and the likeness was actually uncanny.

"Nah mate, new student innit,"

the two men looked me up and down in disbelief. True my Lonsdale tracksuit bottoms and cheap hemp jacket weren't the smartest of attire but it was my travel wear and it was fucking comfortably. After neither of the men made any sort of move to let me past I sighed and took an identification card that the school had posted me out of my pocket. It was reviewed thoroughly before the men pat searched me and let me through.

I smiled to myself as I felt the small bag of hash, that I'd bought after leaving the airport, rub against my bollocks. I looked ahead at the old stone building with the embellished heraldry that I was walking towards and couldn't help thinking to myself that maybe I was somewhat out of place here. Ah well. The Collins family's brand new cash had payed for my spot here so it was all good. A new country and a new year. it was time for James "Coz" Collins to seriously shake some shit up.