He entered with a heavy sigh and headed for the auditorium door adorned with a name-plaque announcing that Mrs. Preston, Head of the Literature Department, could be found here. Excellent, there would be time to catch some sleep and maybe even have a dream or two. Jack settled into the darkest corner of the auditorium, hoping no one would notice his presence.
“Mr. Cornell!” Mrs. Preston chirped in her soft, high voice, her plump cheeks immediately flushing crimson.
“Yes, Mrs. Preston?” Jack bestowed upon the teacher one of his most charming smiles and looked intently into Mrs. Preston’s brown eyes. The plump woman instantly blushed, and dimples appeared on her cheeks.
“Mr. Cornell, I hope you haven’t forgotten to prepare for today’s class?” the woman asked, turning back to the blackboard to avoid his gaze.
“Of course not, Mrs. Preston. ‘To Kill a Mockingbird,’ I’ve read the book cover to cover and I must admit, I’m very intrigued. Such an interesting and captivating plot, and most importantly, with such deep meaning.”
Jack flashed his trademark smile. The only thing he took away from the book while “preparing” for today’s literature class was the title and the author’s name.
Mrs. Preston nodded approvingly and began to sort through the essays, lying in a crumpled stack on her desk. Excellent. Literature for today was over. Mrs. Preston, as always, wouldn’t ask him anything else, at least not today. So, he could relax and doze off. The bell rang, signaling an hour and a half of aimless dozing and
tangled thoughts… Everyone took their seats, and Jack closed his eyes, beginning his self-analysis.
Jack Elliot Cornell – that's me So, what do we have here?
My name is Jack Elliot Cornell. I’m twenty-four years old. I am a member of the ancient Order called “The Guardians,” to which my dear parents had assigned me long before I came into existence. Oh yes, I forgot, my parents are also part of this order, as are all my few relatives.
I have a crazy little family. A strange, far-beyond-the-norm job and even our own greenhouse, or is it a house after all? My secret refuge and my pride. It used to be something like a greenhouse, meticulously erected over an indefinite period of time by my unstoppable mother. She conducted her experiments there, growing strange hybrids from equally mysterious plants. This went on until I hit puberty and started rebelling. That was exactly ten years ago now. That’s when I declared my intention to leave home and live alone. Mom threw a terrible tantrum and said I could do whatever I wanted as long as I didn’t drive her to seizures with my comebacks and departures. That’s when I got my first earring. Then I ran away, more than once. But the terrible, omnipresent “Guardians” would always find me and bring me back to the family nest. In the end, when my father got tired of my endless antics and my mother's constant tantrums, he called me to his office…