Beatty & The Beast

PROLOGUE: Where the Beauty Feels Compassion

* banner by Le Meg (Livejournal)

Late August

And here it was: the first day of senior year.

Some might take it as a small but momentous occasion - being that it was the beginning of the end of one's high school career - but Keefe Beatty greeted his first day of senior year like he did any other first day of school: with a bleary head and a heart in mourning of a summer vacation ended far too soon.

But that attitude would get him nowhere. Honestly, what good can come of such negativity? Keefe quickly attempted to clear that bleary head of his, reminding himself that this particular day kickstarted the final leg of the countdown he had in his head, ticking away the last days, weeks, and months left before he could hightail it out of this town. Though he still had about a year to get through first, it was exciting to think of what was on the horizon once he left tiny little Villeneuve's borders. There, out in the world, free as an after-dinner mint, he would get to explore that tasty and transforming morsel of life known as the college years and without all the baggage of Villeneuve.

It was exhilarating.

"God, how can you have that dumb smile on your face on the first day of school?" Enid barked, breaking Keefe's reverie.

Oh that's right. He still had another year ahead of him. Best keep the head on straight along with the positive attitude - and "dumb smile" - intact. Because why not?

Thus he kept to his routine and continued on the same 1.3 mile walk to school he had done every day since kindergarten. And, like every day since kindergarten, he was accompanied by a small group of classmates who happened to live nearby.

Calling them his friends would be a bit of a stretch. Even though he had known them for almost 13 years, they were more acquaintances than friends. The only reason they walked together every day was because they all happened to be on foot and taking the same route to school. It would be silly to not acknowledge the others' presence on such a lengthy journey. So they conversed every day to and from school, sometimes offering a greeting in the hallways or occasionally sitting next to each other in classes they shared, but never more. Their acquaintance was born of habit and necessity, not of any real bonds of friendship. Truth was they had nothing in common beyond their route, and once any and all things involved with school ended, so did their communication.

Keefe didn't mind the arrangement, but he was always a bit of a loner. He had friends here and there - well, at least one person he could truly call "friend", anyway - and felt no ill will toward anyone in school or in town. He would never refuse a chance at friendship either, he just never really . . . meshed with people. He always seemed to be one beat off from everyone else, just not quite in rhythm with the dancer that was Villeneuve. For Villeneuve was quiet, conservative, and set in her ways. She didn't like change, she didn't like oddity, she didn't like loud colors and noises. She also didn't like to be flustered, so spontaneity and crazy ideas were out of the question, and she really, really didn't like those who marched to the beat of their own drum.

And Keefe, well aware that he was all of the things Lady Villeneuve disliked, had accepted his status as a town weirdo years ago. It amused him more than anything now.

As he and his "walking to school acquaintances" (or "WaTSAs" as he called them) were trudging up the steep Beaumont Hill – the halfway mark between home and school – Enid, the lone female in the WaTSA group (and hater of "dumb" morning smiles), did her typical snarl and head motion for them to cross the street. Like clockwork.

They were nearing the ramshackle Whistlebeck mansion on top of the hill, something Enid had zero tolerance for. Ever since the crew had begun walking as one, she insisted they steer clear of the estate and would promptly cross the street. The other two WaTSAs (Chris and Lewis) always obliged her, not only because they were scared of her, but because they also took no joy in passing too close to the mansion. The millions of rumors and superstitions surrounding the place had a way of giving most of the townsfolk the heebie-jeebies, and it was a common occurrence to cross the street when passing the mansion on Beaumont Hill.