Date: Thu, 20 Dec 2007 20:53:20 -0800 (PST)
From: Jordan Douglas <jjbird87@yahoo.com>
Subject: Night and Day: Part One

      Flight 753 departed shortly after sundown en-route for St.
Augustine, Florida.  For some the quaint Florida town was a vacation
destination.  For others such as eighteen-year-old Kye Darryl the place
reeked of counter-pleasure qualities.  With his bare forehead pressed
against the cool window, Kye watched the city lights fall far below him.
The spider-web of orange lights winked from all directions at him and in
due time the lights altogether disappeared from the thick cloud coverage
and Kye was left with rising animosity and the thought of his new life
that awaited him down South.
      Trying to make out the stars pressed against the sheer blackness of
night, Kye noticed in the reflection of the window his father sitting
next to him.  Flipping through the New York Times - rustling the papers
with importance - coughing now and then.  Though both Kye and his father
were allowed to freely move about the cabin, neither one of them chose
to.  It felt as though his forehead would forever be plastered to the
window until it collapsed from his weight and Kye would consequently
tumble to his death down below - a situation more favorable than the one
he was currently in.
      As if transmitting his thoughts telepathically to his father, he
said without glancing away from the newspaper, "It's for the better -
Kye.  I know you're a bit hostile now, but if anyone should be cross - it
should be me.  Should it not?"  Kye chose not to respond, just exhaled
greatly, causing his breath to spread across the miniscule window.
      More rustling paper occurred next to Kye.  A specific article was
placed on his lap.  Finally, Kye peeled his forehead off of the window
and frowned down at the headline.  It was a small article, but
nevertheless present in a major paper.  Kye read through it once, and
then looked back out the window.
      "Proud?" his father asked.  Again, Kye did not respond.  "You may
resent this now, but you may find a way out of this lifestyle.  Until
then - I ask that you act accordingly in public."  His statement, Kye
knew, was his attempt to deflect the waves of hostility emanating from
his son.  It was his response to an unspoken resentment.
      For the next few hours this is how it remained.  Kye wallowed in
his stubborn pool of stagnation, occasionally tuning in to the random
monumental words declared by his father.  The pressure in the cabin
quickly changed as the plane began its descent.  A door at the other end
opened - and an elderly man emerged - his aging body framed in a navy
blue suit with an American flag pin placed directly over the heart.
      Kye knew he was - Jonathan McFry, the man who took less bull-shit
then Kye's own father.  Undoubtedly, Jonathan was in favor of Kye's
departure - in his eyes Kye was nothing more than an adolescent with no
redeeming qualities.  Of course, Kye would only secretly point out that
Jonathan had cataracts, so nothing he sees anymore appears to him in its
actuality.
      In a few calculated strides, Jonathan approached Kye and his father
with dignity.  "Sir," McFry began with his bold tone, "you'd be pleased
to announce that we are running a few minutes ahead of schedule.  We'll
be touching down in St. Augustine shortly."
      Kye's father smiled brightly.  "Excellent, Jonathan, excellent.
Any word if the press successfully caught wind of my whereabouts?"
      "Not that we know, sir."
      "Terrific - then call ahead to Peter and tell him that it would be
delightful if he had the escort available upon immediately landing."
      Jonathan nodded politely, smoothed back his gray hair, saying, "Of
course, Mr. President."

It's much easier to talk about the dastardly things done to you than the
dastardly things you did to others.  And Kye was about to become King of
the Dastards.  The problem was, and this was a rather big problem,
anything dastardly thing Kye said about others usually reached the press
faster than the speed of light.
      So there he was, yearning for independence, a form of life that was
constantly suppressed by his father.  He felt rather like a trapped
panther at the zoo - clawing continuously at the cage, unintentionally
attracting spectators with cameras so that they could take pictures of
him in his rambunctious state.  To top it off, those pictures were
usually later published in the tabloids, with screaming titles such as:
"The President's Real Problem."
      Their journey south, luckily, remained under wrap.  Nevertheless,
once the plane touch down - Kye slid on a large pair of Armani aviators,
concealing his eyes, anticipating some kind of leak that filtered around
the press.  In addition to his glasses - he wore a blue pinstriped suit,
with the perfect creases, and a red tie.  Unlike many of his peers, Kye
did not entirely despise dressing up.  In fact, his casual wardrobe
consisted mostly of what he was wearing that present moment they landed
in Florida.  Wearing a suit and a tie daily became a lifestyle.
      As his father stood and straightened his own suit, Jonathan
casually came back into the cabin to open the plane door.  "Welcome to
Florida, sir," Jonathan said, assisting both Kye and his father with the
first step out of the plane.
      Kye stepped out onto the first step of the staircase that descended
from the plane down to the ground - and glanced around.  A warm Florida,
tropical breeze tousled his hair.  To his relief, no reporters were
waiting around.  Only the escort vehicle was stationed at the bottom.
His father had already entered.
      Minutes later - after transferring escort vehicles - they were
cruising along the highway.  Large "body guard" vehicles surrounded
them.  One covered the north, one on the east, another on the west, and
the final car behind them.
      "Mrs. Mars will be delighted to see you, Kye," his father spoke
halfway through the journey.  It was his turn to watch out the window as
palms trees sped by in a blur.
      Kye focused on the passenger seat in front of him.  "This is just
your indirect way of punishing me, correct?"
      He sighed.  "Kye - I'll be honest with you.  I'm publicly known for
my family-man persona.  I tend not to read articles written about my
family, but I do from time to time and the public is enamored with your
mother and I - and of course, you.  I would not be pushing for this
change in course if I did not care for you." His eyes were now trained on
the side of Kye's head, trying to establish eye contact.
      Kye did not allow the establishment to occur.  "Sounds like a way
to just protect your personal image," he said stiffly.
      "To protect our family image," he corrected Kye.  He was corrected
by the President of the United States.  Nothing was less intimidating,
but of course Kye would never mention that.  He could barely swallow that
secret fact himself - along with other secrets he kept hidden.

The ride to St. Francis, their destination, and an exclusively private
school was smooth enough.  But somewhere along the way some jerk leaked
the information about Kye's arrival.  As the caravan of cars slowly
proceeded through the wrought iron arched-gate, numerous reporters popped
out of the wood work.  Things turned from normal to uttermost chaos in a
millisecond.
      Reporters with their bursting bulbs surrounded the car Kye was
riding in.  Despite the fact that the windows were tinted, logic stood
that the middle car consisted the President and his son.  His father sat
perfectly regal in his seat, smiling, while bulbs continued to flash
frantically at their faces.  "Mr. President!" the reporters called
obsessively, mingled with a few cries of "Kye!"  The on duty patrol
officers at St. Francis forced the reporters to keep far away from the
car.  Kye groaned inwardly at the mess of reporters and was quite glad
once the car made it pass a security check point.
      "Well," his father said, straightening his tie.  "I wonder who told
them?"  It was more of a question for himself rather than proposed to Kye
or the chauffer.
      They were now traveling along what could easily be mistaken for a
cobblestone road lined with palm trees, but was in fact the driveway
leading up to a massive stone mansion.  Lights burned brightly from
within - red and green ivory twisted up along the walls - well manicured
shrubbery was placed strategically along the enormous stretch of land in
the front of the building.
      Once reaching the main doors, all five cars stopped and the agents
hopped out, securing the area.  Kye and his father casually slipped out
of the car, retrieved Kye's luggage and began the ascent up the marble
stairs to the front door.
      Before they could even announce their arrival by knocking, the one
door flew open.  A lady in a smart cream colored business suit, with her
hair twisted back in a bun, greeted them with a generous smile.  "Mr.
President," she cooed.  "We've been expecting you, please come in."
      "Dolores," Kye's father addressed the lady charmingly, "what have I
told you about formality?  I highly doubt you address your other friends
with such a proper title."  Before she could respond, he turned to Kye.
"You remember Mrs. Mars, do you not?"
      Kye had a quick flashback to two years ago while they were all
sitting around in the White House.  Mrs. Mars, or Dolores, had been an
old friend of Kye's father and recently took command of the prestigious
St. Francis academy and implored Kye to consider joining her down south.
At the time - Kye vowed he'd rather die first then go to a stuck-up,
snobbish place, which he basically thought it to be boot camp for the
rich kids.  Yet, here he stood: right at the threshold, luggage in hand,
wanting to die.
      Dolores stood back, allowing them to enter.  "Please, come in.  No
problems with the press I hope?" she inquired as she lead them down the
main foyer, which was lined with portraits of past owners - dating back
to approximately one hundred and fifty years ago.
      "Only minor ones, Dolores.  No worries, though."
       They began to ascend up a magnificent staircase, with royal red
carpet and gold trimmings along the banister.  An expansive
floor-ceiling, wall-wall window revealed a large courtyard in the back
with a few students milling around.  Kye could not help but to resist
tilting his head this way and that, observing this ancient, yet well
maintained building and its architecture.
      The staircase traveled up several more floors, but they stopped at
the fourth level.  The hallway was also carpeted in a royal red color,
but in lieu of the portraits representing past owners - there were now
paintings detailing St. Augustine.  High arched ceilings provided more
room for Kye's vision to wander, but sensing that his father was catching
onto his wonderment; Kye tightened his grip on the suitcase and stared at
Mrs. Mars back.
      She was explaining the workings of St. Francis to Kye, "The boy's
dormitories are located on the East Wing, while the girls are located on
the West Wing.  Despite the fact that breakfast, lunch, and dinner are
served at certain times - the kitchen is accessible to students at all
hours - provided they have their own groceries.  Classes have not yet
begun, but in a few days time we will begin registration for classes.
You will receive a notice via e-mail."
      Kye's stomach clenched at the prospect of living here.  Just like
the majority of his life - the surrounding was entirely too structured.
He yearned for an unstructured environment - St. Francis was just a
glorified version of boot camp.
      At the end of the hall, they passed through a set of double doors.
The sophistication of the place immediately disappeared.  The hallway
they were now in resembled that of a college dormitory hall.  There was
no high-arched ceiling, no royal red carpet; instead it was simple
hallway with numerous doors, loud music playing, and the students who
were wandering around stopped cold in their tracks at the sight of Kye's
dad.
      A few doors were open, allowing a view of the typical dorm room,
and at one point while passing an open door, the resident clearly caught
sight of Kye's father - for when they passed his jaw slackened and
something glass fell through his hands.
      Word was spreading quickly of their arrival.  Unfortunately, Kye's
room seemed to be at the complete opposite end, which provided the other
students time to gawk.  At one point, he glanced over his shoulder, and
nearly everyone had their head poked out of their room, watching their
retreating backs.
      "Here we are," Dolores said brightly.  They were stopped outside
the very last door, which was slightly ajar.  A light was on.  Dolores
knocked politely, waited for the male occupant to call "come in", and
then opened the door.
      Kye's stomach, which was already clenched in a ball, clenched
tighter and then unclenched, not at the sight of the typical dorm room
(for there was nothing exciting about it) but at the sight of his
roommate: he was relaxing on his bed, no shirt, gym shorts on, and the
Hanes waistband sticking out.
      Expectantly, his roommate did not notice Kye at first.  Instead he
noticed Kye's father, smiling generously, while saying "Hello there,
son."  The kid seemed too mortified to move and who could blame him?  How
often does the President of the United States walk into your bedroom?
Surprise!
      "Lucas," Dolores said, "this is your new roommate - Kye Darryl.  I
presume you already know his father quite well, so I don't have to
introduce you."  She shared a hearty laugh with Kye's father.
      Finally finding his tongue, and his ability to move, Lucas
hurriedly pulled on the nearest shirt, and out stretched his hand.  "Mr.
President - this is completely unexpected."  He then turned his coffee
brown eyes upon Kye.  They were the same height and were able to stare
upon each other eye-to-eye.  "Lucas Carmichael," he said, firmly grasping
Kye's hand.
      It was clear from the awkward silence that followed the exchange of
greetings that Lucas did not know how to properly act in such company.
Finally Kye's father broke the silence, "Well, Kye, why don't I help you
get situated.  This place seems to fit your personality; no doubt you'll
enjoy your time here."
      Though had high doubts, and still felt hostility swimming through
him, he did not voice his objection and allowed his father to drag the
gigantic suitcase over to the unoccupied bed, opposite Lucas's.
      The place still did not appeal much to Kye, but the one thing that
did appeal to his liking was Lucas.  However, that was the last thing he
would openly tell someone.
      If one thing was clear to Kye, his time spent here will certainly
be a voyage.
      And if he had a crystal ball, he would know that he had just set
sail on a voyage with the same fate much like the Titanic.