Mud. Chapter 1
Gossip fuels any good private school, as any good blog writer knows. Who's dating who and is cheating on them with the neighbor's dog that is, as it turns out, the illicit love-child of the neighborhood stray. People love the dirt, though so few like to get their hands soiled with it. Chillesky Prep is one of said schools, and despite repeated attempts to block and eradicate the gossip blogs, they survive. We go to school in the middle of Maine, for Christ's sake; there's nothing else to do out here except sled, and that gets boring really fast. The number one pastime here is sitting in one's dormitory with a cup of hot chocolate (preferably laced with some kind of alcohol) and reading gossip blogs. More specifically, my gossip blog. Mud is my brainchild, born my first year here in a very high school-esque attempt to be popular. It failed miserably because I attempted to report politically correct news stories; this earned me three viewers, one of which was a cripple in the infirmary ward and another being my sympathetic roommate. My views shot into the hundreds when I finally turned to sensationalism; sure, I wasn't publishing lies like the Enquirer (I knew that anyone with half a brain would want to read about a girl marrying Bigfoot), but I sure could get quite the notoriety from blushing, on Mud, how the respectable teacher has a big foot fetish.
People gobble up the stories who normally wouldn't read a paragraph; the diehard reporters even have to acknowledge my skill in snapping photographs. The university, set in picturesque Chillesky, Maine, had attracted people from all over. All over town, that is; everyone knew everyone here, and we hadn't had an out-of-town student for what, a year now? Something around those figures. Mud's carried me far and has become like a class to me-a class I have an A in, anyway! I'm not up to 1576 steady viewers, with the count fluctuating up by almost a thousand sometimes. A big success here in the university; I have to thank Mrs. G in part for my success, though the fiery journalism teacher would most likely tear me a new one if she knew that I was using the design skills she taught me in making Mud.
It updates once every two weeks with large stories, a burden that is more than enjoyable to me to fulfill. I honestly don't mind snooping around. I've grown as sophisticated as hidden cameras in the most inconspicuous places to blatantly taking off a windowpane and sneaking my camera inside. Some may say it's illegal-I call it good journalism. No one is really going to come and scream at me for breaking privacy laws. Anyway. I update faithfully, that's for sure; the one time I forgot flashed through my mind as I hit Enter on my keyboard, sending the latest issue out. I'd lost two hundred steady viewers that day and had never gotten them back. I turned and stared out at the fall landscape tempting me from beyond my window, silently cursing it. I would much rather be outside than cooped up in here all day, that's for sure. I clicked Refresh for the hell of it and felt a nice warm feeling bloom in my belly as my view counter zoomed up again, people eagerly devouring the story about the alleged haunting at the school. Everyone here really fed into that supernatural stuff-hell, someone with a weird disease could get me a ton of views. I stretched my lithe form into the air with a gentle sigh, allowing my thin arms to fall back to my sides. Padding silently across my floor to the door my dorm room, I pushed it open with one of my boot-clad feet. I was immediately met with the rather pale, completely naked rear end of my friend Leslie followed by the rather disgusting rear end of her boyfriend Jacob. "I fucking hate co-ed dorms." I said flatly, turning away from the two idiotic streakers and beginning to walk down my hallway. "We fucking hate you too, Krissy~" He called from behind me, making me chuckle and continue walking towards the exit. "Whatever. I'll be outside lookin' around. Mud's got an update, by the way!" I called, long blond hair tied up in a rather neat-looking bun, framing my rather gaunt face and striking green eyes. I liked the way I looked; it wasn't from anorexia or anything, no way-that stuff was gross. I guess it's just my metabolism. My diminutive 4'11" betrayed my fiery personality, as my friends well knew; fucking with me was a bad idea unless you wanted a hard punch in the gut.
The atmosphere outside was crisp and calm; it felt nice against the skin exposed from my thin blouse and black jacket pushed up to my elbows; goosebumps rose and made me feel like I was combating some invisible opponent and my body was warning me he was standing right behind me. I was tempted to turn and deliver a karate chop to the icy air, though I didn't. My skinny jeans clung to my slightly muscular legs, giving me a semblance of extra warmth, though not much. I'd lived in Maine my entire life, so the cold hardly bothered me-I could go out in the dead of winter with a thin jacket and a show shovel and tunnel my way to the mailbox to get my mail. Kristine Richards, miner extraordinaire!
I crunched across dead leaves to a lone coffee stand set up in the corner of the main courtyard, stepping up to it and giggling as I saw the brown palette of my blog on the screen of the laptop propped in the corner. "Hey, Kate." I said chipperly, looking up at my brunette friend from below the ordering counter. "Black coffee, please?" I asked and she just nodded as she read. Jesus, how I loved that girl-not like I was a lesbian or anything, but she could make the best coffee I'd ever had, and half the time she was doing it while texting, reading, or surfing the Internet. I took it and laid a five-dollar bill on the counter before walking away, resolving to go back to my dorm and begin studying for the exams that would, no doubt, be looming on the horizon. I was distracted, however, by a sound. A rumbling sound, reminiscent of an earthquake except soft and subtle; I turned my head slowly to the left, eyes wide. No.
I blinked and began to swiftly walk in that direction, snatching up a newspaper to sit down on a bench and pretend like I was reading it. Cheesy, whatever, but people never suspected you when you were being cliché. Yes, I was right! It was a car, coming lazily down the road and looking as if it was choking on the cold air. No way. There couldn't be a new kid, definitely not! But, of course, there was. I watched in fascination as the door swung open once it'd parked in the middle of the street, a rather...tall man stepping out and clutching a suitcase. A native? He didn't look uncomfortable in the cold, though he didn't look like anyone from here. I watched as he approached the school with long, silent strides, my eyes scanning swiftly over his form. Oh, this was perfect. He let out a deep, baritone groan as one of his boots stepped in a puddle of mud, the thing splattering over the black material. "It's a fucking sign!" I whispered to myself, eyes shutting in a wordless expression of excitement. Probably Canadian, this one; I knew a few from hailed from up North, and this one definitely looked like the country type. Jesus, those muscles were big-I could see them whenever the wind would tug on his shirt, though the bagginess of his clothes basically hid them most of the time. How strange; if I was him, I'd be trying to advertise those things. I snuck a few furtive glances down below and liked what I saw, getting up and beginning to follow the red-haired, probably at least 6'7" ball of hotness. This black-shirted beau was defiantly going to be the subject of Mud, and I could sense something off about him. I knew there was something that I could dig up on this boy; those tanned, large hands had to have grabbed some ass at one time, and I was determined to find out what kind.
"Who are you, new boy?" I whispered quietly to myself, once again feeling the 'thrill of the hunt.