An ivory envelope, adorned with a dark green wax seal, laid on the kitchen table in front of Quinn. Oakwell Abbey School for Boys it said on it, ink a crisp deep black, along with his own name.

"Holy fucking shit," he breathed, staring at the envelop as though it would open on its own. There it was. Some goddamn piece of paper holding his fate, thrown into his post box like any other bill or meaningless advertisement was.

"Dude, what are you waiting for?!" Grace leaned closer to him, watching him pick it up with shaking hands. The paper itself felt like it was worth more than Quinn's entire existence. His sister sighed, crossed her arms as she fell back on her chair, tapping her foot on the kitchen floor.

The letter slipped out of the envelope, pure white, slightly textured, no cheap printer paper. Quinn folded it open, slowly, agonizingly so, and Grace rolled her eyes. He didn't really want to know what it said, honestly. It might as well have been a rejection. Did schools like Oakwell send rejection letters? Would they even waste some of their precious textured paper on a random kid like Quinn?

The emblem of Oakwell almost sparkled at Quinn, an oak tree under a large star. Per aspera ad astra. Oakwell Abbey School for Boys. Since 1828. The letters on the paper moved and danced in front of him, changing their shape and order, dashing away like shooting stars.

Fuck. Okay. Alright. Quinn took one deep breath, and tried to focus.

Dear Quinton Harvey,

On behalf of the Oakwell Abbey School Committee of Administration, I am delighted to inform you that you have been accepted into our school, and will be attending sixth form at Oakwell Abbey School for Boys.

Upon reviewing your application and letters of recommendation, we have decided that you are qualified for a scholarship in our science, technology, engineering and mathematics (STEM) department. This is a reason to be proud.

Since 1828, Oakwell Abbey School for Boys has been one of the most prestigious schools our country has to offer, and it prides itself on teaching and raising the leaders of tomorrow, among whom you will now be studying and living, among those that one day may change the world.

We congratulate you lalala, blah blah, something something.

Sincerely,

Gunther J. Osborne, headmaster of Oakwell Abbey School for Boys.

Quinn read the letter again. And again, and again, and a another time, meaningless words on a meaningless piece paper that would shape his future, and Quinn didn't understand a fucking word. He scanned the text one more time, then lifted his head, staring right into his twin sister's eyes.

"So?" Grace asked after a few long moments passed, her face empty and impatient.

"I think I'm in."

It took a second, her eyes remained narrowed, then the corners of her mouth twitched upwards.

"You think?"

"I'm pretty sure it says that I'm in."

She exhaled, the smile on her face growing, snatching the letter out of his hands. Her eyes moved through the lines, widening with every word she passed. "Holy shit. Yeah. You're- Oh my god. You did it."

Her words echoed in Quinn's ears, far away from his world, his own reality. This wasn't real. Couldn't be. How on earth had Quinn Harvey, that absolute clown that couldn't even properly read until well into third grade, a crashed out former gifted kid, been accepted into fucking Oakwell, one of the most prestigious boarding schools in England? With a scholarship at that?

"Once James is home we'll force him to get us pizza to celebrate. Holy shit, Quinn!"

Was it the mention of his older brother's name or pizza that snapped Quinn out of his thoughts?

"You think he's gonna be happy?"

"He'll at least be happy to have you out of the house for two years." Grace shrugged, sliding the letter back to Quinn. "And I think he should try to get over himself and at least be a little proud of you."

Quinn exhaled. He took the letter back, reading the first few lines again, then staring at the emblem, analyzing it. It was printed in a dark forest green ink. He'd seen pictures of the uniform in the same colour. Someone out there could probably pull it off. Quinn wouldn't.

"And, Quinnie?" Grace had reached out to put her hand on her brothers, a genuine smile flashing across her face. "I'm really, really proud of you. And you know who else is really proud of you?"

"Don't say mom and dad."

"Too late. Mama and dad would be so happy. Like, so super proud. I can feel it."

Quinn let a smile creep up on his lips, and an exhale turned into the start of laughter. "If you say so."

"I know. Trust me, I really know."

Grace squeezed Quinn's hands, and he pressed his lips together. Something in his chest began to feel heavy.

☆-☆-☆-☆

WC: 831

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