The Patched Kids

The Patched Kids are normal in any way we know how. They speak they same, and do the same things of us. But they're separated in Mackelby School; a school for all these kids to go and socialise. But what are 'patched kids?' Read to find out...


1. The Patched


Mackelby School was just off the coast of a small Devon village, where blue skies radiated and yellow rays of sunlight bore down...onto a grey stucco building.

Amongst the happy children with ice creams, and blue seas and skies, stood Mackelby, grey and tall, hidden behind a large forest of trees that were thin and brown, absent of leaves or growth.

Nobody knew much about the school. They never saw anyone go in, nor anyone come out. Tall wrought iron gates cascaded high up into the air, partially blocking out the view of the school. What with the thick forest of trees, and the tall gates, it was impossible to gather anything about Mackelby.

The people who did know about Mackelby, however, were the new year 7 pupils.

250 silent children travelled slowly down the path leading up to the school. A thin wiry teacher opened the heavy iron with the click of a remote, and they trooped in, silent, eyes glassy as though in formation.

They all had something similar.

Each child had a series of patched scars on their foreheads, and round goggling eyes that clicked bizarrely as they swivelled around their surroundings. They had oddly limp bodies, with comically floppy feet and limbs.

They were the Patched Kids.

Once inside, their eyes rolled around tentatively as though they weren't sure whether they were being watched still or not. Eventually, they settled, and erupted into hyperactive chatter until the tall, skinny teacher clapped his hands.

Mr Rowley stomped his feet again for silence. The chatter died down and they turned towards the man with big, wide eyes.

"Right then. Now we have silence, we can finally get down to business. Here at Mackelby, we have expectations. It isn't the most beautiful of schools, but guess what? It's ours. Our patched school. And nobody knows about it but us." He said all this whilst pacing the length of the first row of children, scanning his eyes over their uniform briskly.

"And, not to scare you kids," he laughed wryly, and leaned forward, "But now your in, your in. Don't get thinking you can swan out and reveal yourself. This is the safest place for you all. The best place for you all. You don't have to be singled out or anything like you used to be. We're all the same."

Mr Rowley pointed to the scars across his head. "Me included. Now, rooms..."

A small girl with copper red hair, raised her eyebrows to the blonde girl standing next to her. "I can't believe we have to share rooms. Its SUCH an invasion of privacy."

The blonde nodded, with wide eyes.

"I know right! At home, I had an en-suite and all that shizz. Mackelby. Mackelby of all schools, this had to be the one they used for patched kids. I'm Maria." She held out a manicured hand, grinning.

The red-head ditched the hand and hugged her tightly instead.

She cackled and drew back, grinning. "I'm Olivia. Lets hope we're roomies eh?" Olivia and Maria linked arms.

"Right then! Blondie and Carrot top, would you kindly be quiet unless you want to go and sleep in the teachers quad?"

They silenced, blushing, Olivia running her fingers through her hair self consciously.

"You can't call people Carrot Top sir. I could sue," she mumbled crossly, her cheeks flaring.

"Be quiet," Mr Rowley sighed. "Right then. In Room 1 we have... Olivia and Maria? Olivia? Maria? Make yourselves known!"

The two girls squealed.

"Oh dear god." Mr Rowley slapped his palm to his his face and sighed. "Right girls, go and get your cases, up the stairs, turn right, and let yourselves into Room 1. Here's your cards, don't lose them, unless you want to sleep in the corridor."

Olivia skipped forward and collected the two cards, whilst Maria fluffed up her hair and her eyes clicked manically as they flitted around the large hall. They skipped up the stairs and out of sight.

"Okay then. Room 2..."

Over in the corner, a small goth girl with kohl outlined eyes applied another layer of black nail polish onto her fingers. Apart from Olivia and Maria, everybody was silent, anxiously looking at their peers in the large hall.

"Year 7!" Mr Rowley shouted. "Perhaps stop being dozy and listen. Normally, people don't listen because they're talking. But you lot are being anti-social and silent and as still as statues. Now, I'm a fair guy. So please...listen?"

They sat up straighter, ears tuned in.

He smiled.

"Okay, where was I...?"

"Room 2 sir!" shouted a tall brunette from the front.

"Yes. Thank you...?"

"Khloe sir," she beamed.

"Thank you Khloe. Now, in Room 2 we have Brandon and Oliver? Brandon Luck and Oliver Grant?"

A lanky ginger boy with glasses and spots stood up, nervously hitching his glasses up his nose, and re-tucking his  shirt into his high corduroy trousers. This was Oliver, a clever boy who had 6 scholarships to rich and intelligent schools worldwide.

But, he was patched. He had to come to Mackelby.

Brandon, on the other hand was a typical, good lucking guy. He was big and muscular, with bright blue eyes, and an uninterested expression. He picked up his large suitcase as though it was a cobweb, and bounded towards Oliver, putting him in a mock headlock as his greeting.

"Alright mate?" he shrugged, looking him in the eye.

Oliver cowered back and held out his hand in a fist, nervously smiling with crooked teeth and nursing his neck.

"Um, safe dude!" He feebly punched his hand, and followed him, sighing up the stairs, heaving his suitcase with effort.

"Okay then guys. Only 7 rooms left in Block 1. We've got a lot more to do. Room 3..."

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