"Porter! Come on! You have to choose something! I've been working my arse off for you, trying to create the most diverse jobs list that I could possibly make. It's not like I could find you anything worth much when the only GCSE you have is in music."

 I sighed. Fion, my Careers Adviser, stared at me through sharp miniscule glasses. She was about 50, 5ft and had withering grey hair. I was tired of this, every fortnight, looking through jobs; every single one lacked the need for my ability to play the guitar.

 "The Golden Sparrow down the lane needs waiters for the summer. If you prove yourself they might even keep you on full time. I don't even know how you missed that one." She thought I was stupid. The naive, cat stenching witch.


 "There's a hotel 10 minutes away from where you live that needs a porter.”

 "Are you kidding me?"

 "Right. Hmm... Course not." She kept flicking through all my papers, hoping to find something. She did.


 "Did you just say OMG?"

 “No, well yes. Just shut up already. You have a letter!"

 "And how is that surprising?"

 "Well it was sent to me from that enormous old people's home down the street, it's funny though, I've never seen that many pensioners walk in there before...”

 I laughed so hard it cramped my stomach. Old people's home? When was the last time she had looked in the mirror? I thought back to what she'd just said, "Old people's home". It was always considered a place to stay away from, that's for sure. Some people called it an old people's home, some said it was a mental asylum, others said it was an orphanage for teenagers with mental disabilities. I opened the letter extremely slowly, not wanting to see the lies and garbage they had written in this letter of despair.

 Dear Mr. Duncan,

Due to special request from your mother, who is an extremely valued friend at our school, we have been asked to invite you to join us at the Night World Academy. If you don't wish to learn the specialist subjects we teach here, that is alright, your careers adviser said it would be best if you started off as a cleaner and worked the way up the ranks. If you are still not interested then perhaps our music club (that has produced winning bands and solo artists in our European competitions) may be enough to entice you into joining our school. By the way, if you are to accept there is a cheque for 16 thousand pounds. That should be enough for that classical guitar you’ve always wanted.

 We are extremely looking forward to meeting you Mr. Duncan.


The Director of the Night World Academy Head Board.

 I gawped at the letter, they were having me on, weren’t they. Sixteen Thousand Pounds!!! I checked the signature at the end of the letter and the one on the check. The same. Fion could see the reaction in my eyes.

 “So? Are you going to accept? They’ve told me the pay is of a reasonable amount.”

 “Very reasonable.” I simply stared at the letter. I was unable to move. This was too overwhelming.

 “So?” I was still staring at it. I finally spoke as quiet as the purest sound of my guitar.

 “I accept.”  Still staring.

 “You what?!”

“I, I...” My voice trembled as I trailed off. The shock made me giddy. I felt like I was gonna puke. “Um. Can I go to the toilet?”

“Sure. I think our little job-winner deserves a toilet break every now and then.” She beamed at me, but that would never change the fact that she was still a smelly old cow.

I’d just accepted to be a janitor. More importantly, I was going to join the Night World Academy....

The End

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