When Dan was 14 years old, he was expelled for the first time. It was four days after his birthday and he'd knocked out one of the boys in his science class. He couldn't remember what he said, but he stood by the fact that it must've been something bad since he was a quiet and somewhat shy kid at the time. If he was being honest, he didn't remember it all that much, just the yelling in the principal's office as his parents argued with him, the principal, and (of course) each other about what to do. At his next school, it happened again; he was expelled about two months before his 16th birthday. According to the school, he was a "problem child", and was "too much to handle" for some- okay, all- of his teachers. And then he was expelled again. From a third school. This time it was about three weeks before his 17th birthday, for essentially the same reasons as the last school. Have you noticed the pattern yet? Because he sure didn't, neither did his parents or any of the schools he'd been excluded from. It was his birthday. His parents, on that faithful 14th birthday of his, announced their divorce. Apparently they were so wrapped up in their lack-of-love for one another that neither of them had remembered the anniversary of his birth, and then after that incident at school four days later, he never looked back. He didn't care. He would get busted smoking in utility closets and behind buildings, he'd get caught with his pants down, literally, with girls in bathrooms and darkened corners. He would get kicked out of class for making obscene comments or just generally not following instructions. They were right. He had become a problem. He was a problem and he knew it.

"Daniel!" his mum called from downstairs. He was late. "Daniel! Come on! We're meant to meet your father at the school at 9am and if we're late, I'll never hear the last of it!"
She was right. Dan's dad was horrible to her, and he would take any excuse he could get his hands on in order to justify his terrible treatment toward her. Unfortunately, just because they were divorced and lived apart didn't change that. He felt bad that he was essentially the only reason that they still had to communicate.
"I'm coming!" he screamed out to her from atop the stairs, "Everything's in the car already, I'll get there when I get there!"
He had made it no secret in both of his parent's households that he wasn't at all happy about this new school. School number four. Freecrow Academy; a boarding school. Neither of his parents wanted him. Unlike other families battling for custody, they were each battling against having Dan in their custody. It hurt. He knew things were hard on them, but they just didn't seem to take into consideration how he felt and how he was feeling about the entire situation. He couldn't remember the last time he felt safe, or even okay.

He threw his backpack at his feet as he jumped in the front seat of his mum's car and slammed the door shut, popping his earphones in so that she wouldn't try to talk to him about how "this is the right thing" for the umpteenth time. About two hours later, they pulled up in small visitor's carpark and trudged up the gravel path toward his dad, whom had grown tired of waiting at the gate and had wandered up closer to the administration building. The closer they got to him, the more his stomach knotted. He was going to yell, Dan just knew it.
"Jesus! We agreed for 9 O'clock!" Dan's dad shouted at his ex-wife before turning to his son, "What've I told you about keeping us waiting, Dan!"
"What've I told you about being a sorry excuse for a human being, dad?!" he yelled back, earning a hit across the head, curtesy of his father.

The painful hour that was Dan's entrance interview seemed to drag on for weeks. Once it was over, his parents had gone their separate ways and he was left sitting awkwardly and alone in the student office while his timetable, information packs and whatever other useless crap they were going to give him, were organised. Within 15 minutes, a tall man came and sat beside him, his blonde hair was slicked right back and his eyes were a shade of brown slightly lighter than Dan's were.
"Daniel Howell?" the blonde man's deep voice spoke his name,
"It's Dan," he shrugged and the man nodded with an uncomfortable smile and handed the younger boy a small stack of papers,
"Alright, Dan. I'm Mr Sparsa, I'm the head of the HSIE department and I'll be your history teacher," he explained, his voice sounded as though he genuinely cared, but if Dan had learned anything from school it was that that was a lie. Teachers didn't care about him, just like everyone else. "I understand that you've had it tough at your previous schools, but it's a little different here. We have a lot of strict rules, but they're put in place to protect you and your peers. Now, you'll be sharing a room with one other student and he knows the drill around here, I've spoken to him and he's kindly agreed to help you out. That isn't to say you can't ask myself or any other teachers for help or whatever you need, but based off of the notes from your other schools, we think that this is a better situation for you," he smiled and Dan nodded. He was a little shocked, this school seemed to have it all together and while he still felt quite abandoned and harboured huge amount of resentment toward his parents, and the fact that he had essentially been locked up and confined to some stupid boarding school, he felt a little less anxious.

Key-coded dorms. This place had key-coded dorms. Dan wondered how many students had locked themselves out, forgotten their keys or had them stolen before they decided little key pads at the door was the way to go. Mr Sparsa keyed in the all-access code to room 427, Dan's new home, and released the door revealing a small entrance hallway before it opened up into a far more vast space with two beds, two wardrobes and two bedside tables – what was this, Dan thought, Noah's ark with two of every furnishing? Mr Sparsa nodded before departing and leaving him alone in the room to unpack and, he supposed, wait for his still nameless roommate. Dan plonked himself down on the unmade bed and laughed a little when he caught site of the bed clothes on the other bed. They were exactly the same brand and pattern as his own, though his were black, white and greyscale as opposed to the green and blue checks on what must've been his roommate's bed. The idea of sharing a room for the next year and half with a complete stranger made him feel really uneasy. What if he was a total freak? What if he was… actually, there was a very slim chance of him being worse than Dan was, unless he was a murderer, but what were the odds of that happening?