Ace of Spades

First-day-back assemblies are the most pointless practice ever. And that’s saying a lot, seeing as Niveus Academy is a school that runs on pointlessness.
We’re seated in Lion Hall-named after one of those donors who give money to private schools that don’t need it–waiting for the principal to arrive and deliver his speech in the usual order:

1. Welcome back for another year–glad you didn’t die this summer
2. Here are your Senior Prefects and Head Prefect
3. School values
4. Fin

Don’t get me wrong. I’m all for structure. Ask any of my friends. Correction–friend. I’m pretty sure that, even though I’ve been here for almost four years, no one else knows I exist. Just Jack, who generally acts like there’s something seriously wrong with me. Still, I call him a friend, because we’ve known each other forever and the thought of being alone is much, much worse.
But back to the thing about structure. I’m a fan. Jack knows about the many rituals I go through before I sit down at the piano. Without them, I don’t play as well. That’s the difference between my rituals and these assemblies. Without these, life at Niveus would still be an endless drudge of gossip, money, and lies.
The microphone screeches loudly, forcing my head up. Twenty minutes of my life about to be wasted on an assembly that could have been an email. I lean back against my chair as a tall, pale guy with dull black eyes, oily black hair slicked back with what I’m sure was an entire jar of hair gel, and a long dark coat that almost sweeps the floor stands at the podium, staring down at us all like we’re vermin and he’s a cat.
“My name is Mr. Ward, but you must all address me as Headmaster Ward,” the cat says, voice liquid and slithery. I squint at him. What the hell happened to Headmaster Collins? The room is filled with confused whispers and unimpressed
faces.
“As I’m sure some of you are aware, Headmaster Collins resigned just before summer break, and I’m here to lead you all. through your final year at Niveus Academy,” the cat finishes, his lips pursed.
“So, the rumors were true,” someone whispers nearby. “Seems like it… I hear rehab is super classy these days, though…” I hadn’t even heard anything was wrong with Headmaster Collins; he seemed fine before summer. Sometimes I feel like I’m so lost in my own world, I don’t notice the things that seem obvious to everyone else.
“And so,” Headmaster Ward’s voice booms over everyone else’s, “we keep within the Niveus tradition, starting today’s assembly with the Senior Prefects and Head Prefect announcements.”
He swivels expectantly as one stiffly suited teacher rushes forward and hands him a cream-colored envelope. Silently, Headmaster Ward opens it, the paper’s crinkle amplified to a blaring shriek through the speakers. He removes a small card and places the envelope on the podium in front of him. I start to zone out.