A----
“Twenty minutes, tops,” she replied.

“Oh, okay.” Jake felt mischievous. “Are we there yet?”

He ducked to dodge Aunt Mara’s smack on his head.

True to his aunt’s words, Clearview emerged over the road after another twenty minutes or so. The first thing to appear was a dusty, metal sign upon which unfurled fancy, slanted writing: Welcome to CLEARVIEW – A Town of Happy Faces. Painted over the sign’s right corner was a coy white rabbit, which was presumably meant to be an upbeat choice for the town’s mascot.*


C----
Aunt Mara’s expression didn’t waver, when their car hit another speed bump.

“Are you absolutely sure? Because we have at least another thirty minutes until we reach Clearview, and that’s further away than you actually think. You don’t reconsider taking my aspirin?”


D----
Jake looked around. Two mothers had stopped their strollers beside a washed out tree. A boy in polyester jumper was staring from the school gate. All of them were staring at Jake, through piercing and bloodshot eyes. Great. Attention already.

Taking a deep breath, Jake tried to clear his throat. The smell wasn’t that bad. The less he thought about it, the more bearable it became. Already, the stench seemed to be dissipating. It was just a minor niggle, that’s all.

“Jake?”

O----
“That’s because we moved from Stanton to Mosman. It wasn’t a huge move; the two suburbs are only a stone throw away from each other,” said Jake keenly. “This is completely different. You’re taking us to the country.”


R----
Jake said nothing, although an uneasy feeling persisted in his stomach.

The Principal’s office was exactly like Eloise Applelard had said: third door from the right. The insides weren’t spectacular. Two seats were side-by-side, next to a threadbare coffee table and a skeletal-looking lamp. The grey windows were oddly reflective, glimmering like hazy mirages. Overall, the office gave the impression of a psychiatrist’s room, or one of those consultation rooms at a hospice.

After talking to the wan secretary, Jake trailed behind Aunt Mara into another room.


------------------------

Here are mine. I'll start unscrambling.

 

If the puzzle pieces are in the correct sequence, the correct code will appear naturally to you. I'm not that evil to scramble the code as well, lol!

 

Thanks for the clarification. Come on guys, I've only seen four of our house post their puzzle pieces.

 

Riley, can you post just the 5 you got?

 

these fit.

 

after that

 

These should be in order. Check them, please:

---------- Post automerged at 03:47 PM ---------- Previous post was at 03:46 PM ----------

R----
“We’re here,” said Aunt Mara, smiling. “Welcome to our new home.”

Stepping out onto the lawn, Jake stared at the house. It was quaint, with pink shutters and trussed rafters. There were three upstairs windows, signalling that this was a three bedroom house. A series of flagstones formed a footpath to the front door, on which was embossed a bright brass plate with the words ‘No. 6, Carroll Street’.
Y----
“It’s smaller than our old house in the city,” noted Jake.

Aunt Mara opened the trunk of the car and took out some boxes. They had the familiar labels: MARA’S CLOTHES, JAKE’S CLOTHES, BOOKS – FICTION, KITCHEN UTENSILS, etc. When she beckoned to him, Jake walked over and took the parcels from her hand. He staggered a little; they were heavy.

“Take these to the front door, while I get the key to the house,” instructed Aunt Mara, as she reached into the trunk again. “Be careful with the smaller boxes; those are our only clothes, and if they get ruined, we’ll have nothing to wear.”
A----
Jake obeyed, although not without grumbling about aunts and the weighty tasks they set.

When Aunt Mara found her keys and opened the door, Jake carried their belongings into the living room. The insides of the house were nothing exceptional: pastel walls, wooden floors, and flowery drapes. A carpeted staircase led to the second floor, while a glass table leaned against the window. Most of the rooms were empty.
N----
There was very little furniture, but Jake expected that. Despite what the name suggested, pre-furnished houses tended to contain only the essentials: beds, chairs, a dining table, and maybe a sofa. Jake and Aunt Mara didn’t need much, though. They had survived with far less.

“I guess the previous tenant wasn’t kidding when he said the house was barely furnished,” said Aunt Mara, as she wiped her hand across the tattering sofa.
D----
“It’s not that bad,” said Jake.

“Really?” Aunt Mara started opening some of the boxes. “You were complaining buckets in the car, about Clearview and moving. Be honest with me.”

Reaching into the box labelled ‘TRINKETS’, she took out a deck of decorative Tarot cards. Aunt Mara placed the deck next to the pile of history books.

“You can tell me what you really think about the house,” she said.
F----
“I actually like it, no kidding,” admitted Jake.

He was telling the truth. No. 6, Carroll Street managed to feel cosy without being boring or bland, like many of the other homes in Clearview. The house’s unusual “pink” colour scheme helped fight the dreariness.

Aunt Mara hoisted the ‘KITCHEN UTENSILS’ box. “Really? You like this old bag of dust?”

“A ‘Yay’ from ‘Yay or Nay’ for me,” said Jake. He added, cheekily. “And you aren’t that old, Aunt Mara.”

“Haha. I’m dying with laughter.”
U----
Aunt Mara placed the box on a bench-top. Whipping out a dishtowel, she began wiping down the nooks and crannies in the kitchen. Dirt and grime emerged from the cracks in the tiles. After a moment of furious scrubbing, Aunt Mara paused and looked up at Jake.

“I’ll fix you some lunch in thirty minutes,” she told Jake. “In the mean time, why don’t you head to your room and start unpacking? You can have the east bedroom, the one facing the front yard.”

Jake raised an eyebrow. “Lunch?”

“Honey Chicken with rice.”
A----
The room that Aunt Mara had selected for him was comfortable. The ceiling was peaked, allowing for a surprising amount of room, while a small bed crouched next to a simple dresser. Over the window hung periwinkle curtains which were decorated with a curious pattern of lizards holding gloves and fans.

Jake set down the box on the bed. As he took out his clothes and put them in the dresser, Jake pondered how his stay in Clearview would pan out. Aunt Mara had promised that they only needed to stay a year, perhaps even less. Jake sighed. Even though he didn’t want to whine, Clearview perturbed him. It was so different to Mosman or the rest of the city. The dead middle of nowhere.
S----
Principal Norton was sitting behind his desk. He wasn’t an intimidating man. At least in appearance. Gifted with a rather forgettable face, he had thatched hair, a small mouth, and a strong jaw. In fact, the only thing that was reasonably remarkable about the man’s looks was his eyes. They were watery and black, like a pot of ink.

Those eyes flashed when Jake entered the room.

“Good afternoon,” said the man; his voice was a wispy but controlled. “Please, take a seat. Now, what brings you to Stonewall?”

Aunt Mara sat down in one of the room’s armchairs. Jake copied his aunt and lowered himself into a red armchair. The chair itself, with its black trimmings and lumpy cushions, reminded him of an open jaw. Jake felt a little nauseated. It didn’t help that the burning smell seemed to be the strongest here. Not that anybody else appeared to notice.

Why didn’t anybody else notice? Jake sincerely doubted that he was going crazy. Well, not too crazy.

Aunt Mara extended her hand to Principal Norton; the man shook it.

“Mara Pryce, we spoke over the phone,” she said.

“Ah, the woman planning to move to Clearview. I remember: you wish to enrol your nephew, yes?” Principal Norton sounded thrilled, as though he were a toad that had caught a particularly juicy fly. “I’m sure Stonewall has a place for him. Let me check the relevant paperwork. Procedures, procedures…”

Principal Norton’s black eyes flicked towards Jake.

“You must be Jake Hilden,” said Principal Norton. “Twelve years old?”

“Yeah.”

The Principal raised an eyebrow; Jake flushed.

“I mean, ‘yes’,” said Jake hastily.
I----
Principal Norton tapped his chin with a finger. “What about his parents?”

“My sister has been dead for twelve years,” said Aunt Mara brusquely, “and my brother-in-law had renounced his custodial rights when Jake was six.”

While Jake stared blankly at the carpet, Principal Norton harrumphed

V----
Principal Norton read aloud: “Three probations and two suspensions.”

Jake flinched. Each of those events had involved a “freakish” incident, like the frozen pond and Linda Pope. There were inexplicable, and nobody knew the truth. Of course, that didn’t mean that Jake wasn’t punished under labels such as “causing distress to a peer” or “vandalising school property”. His school record was far from spotless.

“Those were mistakes, unfortunate happenstances,” insisted Aunt Mara, in an oddly pitchy voice. “Jake has learnt his lesson, and there won’t be any further trouble. Isn’t that right?”
I----
Aunt Mara shot Jake a meaningful look.

“Um, yes. No trouble,” said Jake, sheepishly.

Principal Norton set down the papers, reached into his desk drawer, and pulled something out. It was a yellow pamphlet, gilded with the logo of a Four-leaf Clover. Jake glimpsed at the title: ‘The Community – Four Hands Acting as One’. It was the same organisation that ran the Scouts, or whatever Eloise Applelard was a part of.

With the slickness of a greased realtor, Principal Norton slid the pamphlet across the desk.
V----
“The Community is Clearview’s central volunteer group. I’m one of the district coordinators,” said Principal Norton brightly. “We do some great things, like host a neighbourhood barbeque or fundraise for the local church. Our children’s division, the Scouts, is also very popular amongst the local kids. In fact, their annual camping trip to Lake Burragorang sells out every time.”

He pressed the brochure into Jake’s hands. “The Community could help you make friends, and even sort out your… problems. It would help you to understand how things roll in Clearview.”

“Jake, it does sound like a good idea,” conceded Aunt Mara. “Weren’t you worried that you didn’t know anyone else here?”
R----
“Sleep over it. I’m sure you will make the right decision,” said Principal Norton, as he filed away the rest of the Community brochures. “Back to our original topic, I do think that Jake will fit-in at Stonewall, Miss Pryce, despite his patchwork record.”

Aunt Mara was visibly relieved.

“We need his guardian’s signature on one more form, and his enrolment will be finalised. Am I to assume that you are his primary caretaker?”

“Yes, I am,” answered Aunt Mara.
O----
Jake pocketed the pamphlet in his jeans. While the local club sounded like a good idea, he didn’t like the glint in Principal Norton’s eyes. The man’s expression was impassive, but those black pupils were almost predatory. And Jake’s instincts told him to be wary.

“I’ll think about it,” said Jake cautiously
E----
“There’s only one more thing left,” he told Jake. “Welcome to Stonewall Primary – and to Clearview.”

A few more minutes passed, during which Aunt Mara and Principal Norton exchanged some general pleasantries and a few words regarding the textbooks Jake would need to buy. However, the wan secretary finally interceded.

“Principal Norton, Mrs Kane has sent Douglas Draper to your office,” said the secretary, from the doorway. “Apparently, Draper had fallen asleep in class again.”
A----
Principal Norton tightened his lips.

“I mean, ‘Yes, sir’,” corrected Jake.

“Good. We’re learning already.” Principal Norton opened the door and gestured to Jake and Aunt Mara. They walked out of the office in silence.

Outside, the sallow secretary was flicking through an old Better Houses magazine. She wasn’t paying any attention to Douglas Draper, the boy who had been sent to the principal, to be punished. Perhaps this wasn’t Draper’s first time at the office. The boredom in the secretary’s face and the apathy in the delinquent boy’s stance suggested as much.
O----
The mere presence of Douglas Draper was bizarre. Draper had big ears, an intelligent face, and bright-green eyes that blinked behind a sleek pair of glasses. Brown hair – combed and tidy – fell over his forehead. Even his clothes were tidy, a clean jumper and pants without creases. Jake thought that all Douglas was needed was a heavy book and a set of 2B pencils, and he’d be the image of the ideal Teacher’s Pet.

Douglas Draper looked like the type of boy you’d copy off in a test, not the type of boy who would be sent to the principal’s office. In fact, he reminded Jake of Eloise Applelard, the bossy Hall Monitor.
D----
Douglas wrinkled his nose, as though he had smelled something disgusting. After throwing the principal another glare, he walked into the office and slammed the door behind. Principal Norton’s smile faltered ever-so slightly. Jake couldn’t help but grin.

“Excuse me, I have some work to do,” said Principal Norton in a tight voice.

Before turning the doorknob to his office, he patted Jake on the shoulder. A cold feeling spread through Jake’s body, like cold wind at night. Jake shivered.
M----
However, it wouldn’t be that bad, if it weren’t for Principal Norton. The man wasn’t good news, and that burnt smell originating from his office made Jake frown.

Reaching into his pockets, Jake pulled out the pamphlet. The logo of four-leaf clover stretched across the front cover.

“Act like everyone else,” he muttered. “What am I supposed to do? Join the Scouts?”

The Community and its junior division, the Scouts. The group seemed innocent enough. Would it hurt to give the club a try?
T----
When Principal Norton turned around, Jake felt his face burn red. He was embarrassed that he was even making this weird request to start with. Aunt Mara was frowning.

“Can you put me in a class other than 6B?” asked Jake uneasily. “This girl – Elena, Elisa, something – said that I should avoid it, and ask you.”

“Class 6B? Interesting, that was my original pick for you,” said Principal Norton softly. “I imagined you would fit in perfectly with the other children there. You see, many of them are also…troubled. Unusual kids we need to keep an extra pair of eyes on.”
R----
Jake resisted the urge to retort that he didn’t need extra supervision. This was the fourth time that the principal had alluded to his disciplinary record, and Jake was getting a little fed up.

“Regardless, I don’t think we should make any hasty changes for now,” concluded Principal Norton. “Let’s see how you behave in Class 6B and take it from there, okay?”

“Okay.”

 

They just entered the room, and then they are leaving. So that can't be right.

 

I'm struggling to put these in contest:

A----
Flicking his gaze down, Jake scanned the paper. The writing was awfully dense and spidery, like the text in Aunt Mara’s thick books on British Imperial history. For a wild moment, Jake doubted that he even had to sign the form. He was taught to listen to adults, but for some reason, his gut feeling said otherwise.

Why did he feel uncomfortable around Principal Norton? Was it the smell of burnt wood? Or the strange shadows under the man’s eyes, as if they had endured sleepless nights?

“Jake?” asked Aunt Mara.

N----
“Okay, okay,” said Jake, giving up.

Pressing the pen against the paper, Jake scribbled his initials in one, fluid motion. His intestines twisted. It felt as though he was signing away his soul, tethering himself to a school and community in which something was very wrong.

Principal Norton snatched the paper with blinding speed and locked it away in his drawer.

E----
Jake was folding the Community’s pamphlet, when he heard a shuffling sound outside. Curious, Jake strolled to the window and pulled it up. The source of the noise wasn’t hard to find; a young boy stood on the front yard, crushing some of the gardenias with his scrappy sneakers. A baseball cap was shoved low over the boy’s head, as if he wanted to protect his identity.

However, bits of hair popped out from under the hem. Jake noted that the hair colour was blond, but different from the pale blond of Eloise Applelard’s curls. It was a more triumphant blond, brighter. More yellow, like afternoon sunshine.

Jake shouted. “Oi! What are you doing?”

Startled, the boy in the baseball cap jumped back. Then, he spun around and ran away. Jake wrinkled his brow, more than a little puzzled.

“What was that about?” he said to himself. “Can this town get any weirder?”

After closing the window, Jake started to return to the box on his bed. Something grabbed his attention, though. The glass in the window had tinted slightly, with a tiny cluster of white on the bottom right corner. Entranced, Jake pressed a finger into the pane.

A cold snap crept up the window, making it opaque and freezing to touch. Frost trailed over what was warm glass, a minute ago. Ice crystals formed over the edges, like spider webs.

“No,” breathed Jake.

He withdrew his hand. Almost immediately, the ice started to disappear. But the damage was already done. Jake felt his heart race at a million miles per second; his finger was numb with cold.

“Not again,” he mumbled.

The freakishness… Was it real? Jake swore that he saw the last of it in Mosman, two months ago. That was meant to be the end of the weird business, finally. But why was it happening again in Clearview, out of all places?

Why to him?

 

I posted them with Stojils but sure:

D----
Douglas wrinkled his nose, as though he had smelled something disgusting. After throwing the principal another glare, he walked into the office and slammed the door behind. Principal Norton’s smile faltered ever-so slightly. Jake couldn’t help but grin.

“Excuse me, I have some work to do,” said Principal Norton in a tight voice.

Before turning the doorknob to his office, he patted Jake on the shoulder. A cold feeling spread through Jake’s body, like cold wind at night. Jake shivered.


E----
Jake was folding the Community’s pamphlet, when he heard a shuffling sound outside. Curious, Jake strolled to the window and pulled it up. The source of the noise wasn’t hard to find; a young boy stood on the front yard, crushing some of the gardenias with his scrappy sneakers. A baseball cap was shoved low over the boy’s head, as if he wanted to protect his identity.

However, bits of hair popped out from under the hem. Jake noted that the hair colour was blond, but different from the pale blond of Eloise Applelard’s curls. It was a more triumphant blond, brighter. More yellow, like afternoon sunshine.

Jake shouted. “Oi! What are you doing?”

Startled, the boy in the baseball cap jumped back. Then, he spun around and ran away. Jake wrinkled his brow, more than a little puzzled.

“What was that about?” he said to himself. “Can this town get any weirder?”

After closing the window, Jake started to return to the box on his bed. Something grabbed his attention, though. The glass in the window had tinted slightly, with a tiny cluster of white on the bottom right corner. Entranced, Jake pressed a finger into the pane.

A cold snap crept up the window, making it opaque and freezing to touch. Frost trailed over what was warm glass, a minute ago. Ice crystals formed over the edges, like spider webs.

“No,” breathed Jake.

He withdrew his hand. Almost immediately, the ice started to disappear. But the damage was already done. Jake felt his heart race at a million miles per second; his finger was numb with cold.

“Not again,” he mumbled.

The freakishness… Was it real? Jake swore that he saw the last of it in Mosman, two months ago. That was meant to be the end of the weird business, finally. But why was it happening again in Clearview, out of all places?

Why to him?


E----
“There’s only one more thing left,” he told Jake. “Welcome to Stonewall Primary – and to Clearview.”

A few more minutes passed, during which Aunt Mara and Principal Norton exchanged some general pleasantries and a few words regarding the textbooks Jake would need to buy. However, the wan secretary finally interceded.

“Principal Norton, Mrs Kane has sent Douglas Draper to your office,” said the secretary, from the doorway. “Apparently, Draper had fallen asleep in class again.”



A----
Jake obeyed, although not without grumbling about aunts and the weighty tasks they set.

When Aunt Mara found her keys and opened the door, Jake carried their belongings into the living room. The insides of the house were nothing exceptional: pastel walls, wooden floors, and flowery drapes. A carpeted staircase led to the second floor, while a glass table leaned against the window. Most of the rooms were empty.


I----
Principal Norton tapped his chin with a finger. “What about his parents?”

“My sister has been dead for twelve years,” said Aunt Mara brusquely, “and my brother-in-law had renounced his custodial rights when Jake was six.”

While Jake stared blankly at the carpet, Principal Norton harrumphed.

 

we need Fontsian and Dr whooves to post. :|

 

Those are the house ones.

 

Guljons, did you add the 9 years old/12 years old bits?

 

Fontisian is on the same time zone as me I believe so we might not get anything till about 12pm EST. which i believe is at the tail end of 4pm GMT.

 

The first four fit perfectly and give us "RYAN".

The next two fit as well but they form "DF", don't really know what to make of it. The next two look alright as well. So DFUA. Maybe D is the middle name? I dunno.

So far, RYAN DFUA.

The next paragraph says "It didn’t help that the burning smell seemed to be the strongest here. Not that anybody else appeared to notice."

So we are definitely missing a big important chunk here, should be with Whooves or font.

 

So this is what I got.

Then

Then

then

This makes
NG
PIEC
HEA ER
BH- maybe her something in the middle.

 

New (and I think) improved version:
R----
“We’re here,” said Aunt Mara, smiling. “Welcome to our new home.”

Stepping out onto the lawn, Jake stared at the house. It was quaint, with pink shutters and trussed rafters. There were three upstairs windows, signalling that this was a three bedroom house. A series of flagstones formed a footpath to the front door, on which was embossed a bright brass plate with the words ‘No. 6, Carroll Street’.
Y----
“It’s smaller than our old house in the city,” noted Jake.

Aunt Mara opened the trunk of the car and took out some boxes. They had the familiar labels: MARA’S CLOTHES, JAKE’S CLOTHES, BOOKS – FICTION, KITCHEN UTENSILS, etc. When she beckoned to him, Jake walked over and took the parcels from her hand. He staggered a little; they were heavy.

“Take these to the front door, while I get the key to the house,” instructed Aunt Mara, as she reached into the trunk again. “Be careful with the smaller boxes; those are our only clothes, and if they get ruined, we’ll have nothing to wear.”
A----
Jake obeyed, although not without grumbling about aunts and the weighty tasks they set.

When Aunt Mara found her keys and opened the door, Jake carried their belongings into the living room. The insides of the house were nothing exceptional: pastel walls, wooden floors, and flowery drapes. A carpeted staircase led to the second floor, while a glass table leaned against the window. Most of the rooms were empty.
N----
There was very little furniture, but Jake expected that. Despite what the name suggested, pre-furnished houses tended to contain only the essentials: beds, chairs, a dining table, and maybe a sofa. Jake and Aunt Mara didn’t need much, though. They had survived with far less.

“I guess the previous tenant wasn’t kidding when he said the house was barely furnished,” said Aunt Mara, as she wiped her hand across the tattering sofa.
D----
“It’s not that bad,” said Jake.

“Really?” Aunt Mara started opening some of the boxes. “You were complaining buckets in the car, about Clearview and moving. Be honest with me.”

Reaching into the box labelled ‘TRINKETS’, she took out a deck of decorative Tarot cards. Aunt Mara placed the deck next to the pile of history books.

“You can tell me what you really think about the house,” she said.
F----
“I actually like it, no kidding,” admitted Jake.

He was telling the truth. No. 6, Carroll Street managed to feel cosy without being boring or bland, like many of the other homes in Clearview. The house’s unusual “pink” colour scheme helped fight the dreariness.

Aunt Mara hoisted the ‘KITCHEN UTENSILS’ box. “Really? You like this old bag of dust?”

“A ‘Yay’ from ‘Yay or Nay’ for me,” said Jake. He added, cheekily. “And you aren’t that old, Aunt Mara.”

“Haha. I’m dying with laughter.”
U----
Aunt Mara placed the box on a bench-top. Whipping out a dishtowel, she began wiping down the nooks and crannies in the kitchen. Dirt and grime emerged from the cracks in the tiles. After a moment of furious scrubbing, Aunt Mara paused and looked up at Jake.

“I’ll fix you some lunch in thirty minutes,” she told Jake. “In the mean time, why don’t you head to your room and start unpacking? You can have the east bedroom, the one facing the front yard.”

Jake raised an eyebrow. “Lunch?”

“Honey Chicken with rice.”
A----
The room that Aunt Mara had selected for him was comfortable. The ceiling was peaked, allowing for a surprising amount of room, while a small bed crouched next to a simple dresser. Over the window hung periwinkle curtains which were decorated with a curious pattern of lizards holding gloves and fans.

Jake set down the box on the bed. As he took out his clothes and put them in the dresser, Jake pondered how his stay in Clearview would pan out. Aunt Mara had promised that they only needed to stay a year, perhaps even less. Jake sighed. Even though he didn’t want to whine, Clearview perturbed him. It was so different to Mosman or the rest of the city. The dead middle of nowhere.
E----
Jake was folding the Community’s pamphlet, when he heard a shuffling sound outside. Curious, Jake strolled to the window and pulled it up. The source of the noise wasn’t hard to find; a young boy stood on the front yard, crushing some of the gardenias with his scrappy sneakers. A baseball cap was shoved low over the boy’s head, as if he wanted to protect his identity.

However, bits of hair popped out from under the hem. Jake noted that the hair colour was blond, but different from the pale blond of Eloise Applelard’s curls. It was a more triumphant blond, brighter. More yellow, like afternoon sunshine.

Jake shouted. “Oi! What are you doing?”

Startled, the boy in the baseball cap jumped back. Then, he spun around and ran away. Jake wrinkled his brow, more than a little puzzled.

“What was that about?” he said to himself. “Can this town get any weirder?”

After closing the window, Jake started to return to the box on his bed. Something grabbed his attention, though. The glass in the window had tinted slightly, with a tiny cluster of white on the bottom right corner. Entranced, Jake pressed a finger into the pane.

A cold snap crept up the window, making it opaque and freezing to touch. Frost trailed over what was warm glass, a minute ago. Ice crystals formed over the edges, like spider webs.

“No,” breathed Jake.

He withdrew his hand. Almost immediately, the ice started to disappear. But the damage was already done. Jake felt his heart race at a million miles per second; his finger was numb with cold.

“Not again,” he mumbled.

The freakishness… Was it real? Jake swore that he saw the last of it in Mosman, two months ago. That was meant to be the end of the weird business, finally. But why was it happening again in Clearview, out of all places?

Why to him?
S----
Principal Norton was sitting behind his desk. He wasn’t an intimidating man. At least in appearance. Gifted with a rather forgettable face, he had thatched hair, a small mouth, and a strong jaw. In fact, the only thing that was reasonably remarkable about the man’s looks was his eyes. They were watery and black, like a pot of ink.

Those eyes flashed when Jake entered the room.

“Good afternoon,” said the man; his voice was a wispy but controlled. “Please, take a seat. Now, what brings you to Stonewall?”

Aunt Mara sat down in one of the room’s armchairs. Jake copied his aunt and lowered himself into a red armchair. The chair itself, with its black trimmings and lumpy cushions, reminded him of an open jaw. Jake felt a little nauseated. It didn’t help that the burning smell seemed to be the strongest here. Not that anybody else appeared to notice.

Why didn’t anybody else notice? Jake sincerely doubted that he was going crazy. Well, not too crazy.

Aunt Mara extended her hand to Principal Norton; the man shook it.

“Mara Pryce, we spoke over the phone,” she said.

“Ah, the woman planning to move to Clearview. I remember: you wish to enrol your nephew, yes?” Principal Norton sounded thrilled, as though he were a toad that had caught a particularly juicy fly. “I’m sure Stonewall has a place for him. Let me check the relevant paperwork. Procedures, procedures…”

Principal Norton’s black eyes flicked towards Jake.

“You must be Jake Hilden,” said Principal Norton. “Twelve years old?”

“Yeah.”

The Principal raised an eyebrow; Jake flushed.

“I mean, ‘yes’,” said Jake hastily.
V----
Principal Norton read aloud: “Three probations and two suspensions.”

Jake flinched. Each of those events had involved a “freakish” incident, like the frozen pond and Linda Pope. There were inexplicable, and nobody knew the truth. Of course, that didn’t mean that Jake wasn’t punished under labels such as “causing distress to a peer” or “vandalising school property”. His school record was far from spotless.

“Those were mistakes, unfortunate happenstances,” insisted Aunt Mara, in an oddly pitchy voice. “Jake has learnt his lesson, and there won’t be any further trouble. Isn’t that right?”
I----
Aunt Mara shot Jake a meaningful look.

“Um, yes. No trouble,” said Jake, sheepishly.

Principal Norton set down the papers, reached into his desk drawer, and pulled something out. It was a yellow pamphlet, gilded with the logo of a Four-leaf Clover. Jake glimpsed at the title: ‘The Community – Four Hands Acting as One’. It was the same organisation that ran the Scouts, or whatever Eloise Applelard was a part of.

With the slickness of a greased realtor, Principal Norton slid the pamphlet across the desk.
V----
“The Community is Clearview’s central volunteer group. I’m one of the district coordinators,” said Principal Norton brightly. “We do some great things, like host a neighbourhood barbeque or fundraise for the local church. Our children’s division, the Scouts, is also very popular amongst the local kids. In fact, their annual camping trip to Lake Burragorang sells out every time.”

He pressed the brochure into Jake’s hands. “The Community could help you make friends, and even sort out your… problems. It would help you to understand how things roll in Clearview.”

“Jake, it does sound like a good idea,” conceded Aunt Mara. “Weren’t you worried that you didn’t know anyone else here?”
A----
Flicking his gaze down, Jake scanned the paper. The writing was awfully dense and spidery, like the text in Aunt Mara’s thick books on British Imperial history. For a wild moment, Jake doubted that he even had to sign the form. He was taught to listen to adults, but for some reason, his gut feeling said otherwise.

Why did he feel uncomfortable around Principal Norton? Was it the smell of burnt wood? Or the strange shadows under the man’s eyes, as if they had endured sleepless nights?

“Jake?” asked Aunt Mara.
O----
Jake pocketed the pamphlet in his jeans. While the local club sounded like a good idea, he didn’t like the glint in Principal Norton’s eyes. The man’s expression was impassive, but those black pupils were almost predatory. And Jake’s instincts told him to be wary.

“I’ll think about it,” said Jake cautiously
R----
“Sleep over it. I’m sure you will make the right decision,” said Principal Norton, as he filed away the rest of the Community brochures. “Back to our original topic, I do think that Jake will fit-in at Stonewall, Miss Pryce, despite his patchwork record.”

Aunt Mara was visibly relieved.

“We need his guardian’s signature on one more form, and his enrolment will be finalised. Am I to assume that you are his primary caretaker?”

“Yes, I am,” answered Aunt Mara.
I----
Principal Norton tapped his chin with a finger. “What about his parents?”

“My sister has been dead for twelve years,” said Aunt Mara brusquely, “and my brother-in-law had renounced his custodial rights when Jake was six.”

While Jake stared blankly at the carpet, Principal Norton harrumphed
E----
“There’s only one more thing left,” he told Jake. “Welcome to Stonewall Primary – and to Clearview.”

A few more minutes passed, during which Aunt Mara and Principal Norton exchanged some general pleasantries and a few words regarding the textbooks Jake would need to buy. However, the wan secretary finally interceded.

“Principal Norton, Mrs Kane has sent Douglas Draper to your office,” said the secretary, from the doorway. “Apparently, Draper had fallen asleep in class again.”
A----
Principal Norton tightened his lips.

“I mean, ‘Yes, sir’,” corrected Jake.

“Good. We’re learning already.” Principal Norton opened the door and gestured to Jake and Aunt Mara. They walked out of the office in silence.

Outside, the sallow secretary was flicking through an old Better Houses magazine. She wasn’t paying any attention to Douglas Draper, the boy who had been sent to the principal, to be punished. Perhaps this wasn’t Draper’s first time at the office. The boredom in the secretary’s face and the apathy in the delinquent boy’s stance suggested as much.
O----
The mere presence of Douglas Draper was bizarre. Draper had big ears, an intelligent face, and bright-green eyes that blinked behind a sleek pair of glasses. Brown hair – combed and tidy – fell over his forehead. Even his clothes were tidy, a clean jumper and pants without creases. Jake thought that all Douglas was needed was a heavy book and a set of 2B pencils, and he’d be the image of the ideal Teacher’s Pet.

Douglas Draper looked like the type of boy you’d copy off in a test, not the type of boy who would be sent to the principal’s office. In fact, he reminded Jake of Eloise Applelard, the bossy Hall Monitor.
D----
Douglas wrinkled his nose, as though he had smelled something disgusting. After throwing the principal another glare, he walked into the office and slammed the door behind. Principal Norton’s smile faltered ever-so slightly. Jake couldn’t help but grin.

“Excuse me, I have some work to do,” said Principal Norton in a tight voice.

Before turning the doorknob to his office, he patted Jake on the shoulder. A cold feeling spread through Jake’s body, like cold wind at night. Jake shivered.
M----
However, it wouldn’t be that bad, if it weren’t for Principal Norton. The man wasn’t good news, and that burnt smell originating from his office made Jake frown.

Reaching into his pockets, Jake pulled out the pamphlet. The logo of four-leaf clover stretched across the front cover.

“Act like everyone else,” he muttered. “What am I supposed to do? Join the Scouts?”

The Community and its junior division, the Scouts. The group seemed innocent enough. Would it hurt to give the club a try?
T----
When Principal Norton turned around, Jake felt his face burn red. He was embarrassed that he was even making this weird request to start with. Aunt Mara was frowning.

“Can you put me in a class other than 6B?” asked Jake uneasily. “This girl – Elena, Elisa, something – said that I should avoid it, and ask you.”

“Class 6B? Interesting, that was my original pick for you,” said Principal Norton softly. “I imagined you would fit in perfectly with the other children there. You see, many of them are also…troubled. Unusual kids we need to keep an extra pair of eyes on.”
R----
Jake resisted the urge to retort that he didn’t need extra supervision. This was the fourth time that the principal had alluded to his disciplinary record, and Jake was getting a little fed up.

“Regardless, I don’t think we should make any hasty changes for now,” concluded Principal Norton. “Let’s see how you behave in Class 6B and take it from there, okay?”

“Okay.”

 

Pretty sure the next segment forms the word SURVIVOR. Thoughts?

 

I still don't know where to put this:

N----
“Okay, okay,” said Jake, giving up.

Pressing the pen against the paper, Jake scribbled his initials in one, fluid motion. His intestines twisted. It felt as though he was signing away his soul, tethering himself to a school and community in which something was very wrong.

Principal Norton snatched the paper with blinding speed and locked it away in his drawer.

 

like this i guess