Introducing… the main antagonist of The Lion’s Den.
Copyright © 2024 Maria McDonald
Gordon Crane had never believed in coincidences.
With his father being one of the country’s most renowned neurosurgeons, Peter Crane’s wealth and status were almost on par with the billionaire James Bradford. It was, therefore, a matter of common sense that both parents had enrolled their respective offspring in arguably the best prep school in the state of Massachusetts; as sensical, Gordon supposed, as having bespoke Hugo Boss and Armani suits lined his father’s walk-in wardrobe.
Having treated this as a sign from the universe, Gordon had wholeheartedly believed that he and Michael Bradford should be closely acquainted; that together, they should roam the hallways of St. Andrew’s the like of two kings, their peers nothing more than inferior subjects existing solely to fulfill their every whim.
He had also been convinced that said alliance should take place organically, and almost instantly; all that had to transpire was for him to casually drop his father’s name and occupation into the conversation for Michael to instantly realize the benefits of joining forces with him.
Three months into their freshmen year and Gordon was no closer to attaining said goal. Beyond English and History, they had shared no other classes. Not PE, where ridiculing over dorks and nerds trying to do a high jump could have served as a perfect icebreaker. Nor Science, where inventing other means to memorize abbreviations on periodic table could have led to further conversations. Whereas he had chosen Geography and Physics, Michael had settled on Arts and French; electives Gordon would have outrightly shunned as ‘sissy subjects’ had it not for the fact that he was trying his darndest to befriend the guy.
He had entertained the idea of arriving into their shared English class ahead of everyone else to reserve the seat next to him for the son of billionaire; an idea he had abandoned precisely two seconds later. For one, arriving early to any class – something only nerds would do – would mar the cool, nonchalant persona he was currently building and striving to maintain. For another, reserving a seat for anyone was a task someone should do on his behalf, not the other way around.
He could, he supposed, try to initiate a conversation during assembly. Given the first letter of their respective surnames, he had, almost always, ended up sitting directly behind and one seat to the left of Michael.
Gordon had sat on his hands lest he had the irrepressible urge to tap on Michael’s shoulder. Close proximity notwithstanding, he had held on to the conviction that such alliance needed to be forged away from everybody else’s prying eyes, and ears.
By half-way through the fifth month, Gordon had become equal part exasperated and desperate. He had begun spending the better part of his recess tailing Michael from a safe distance the like of a trained spy, trying to identify patterns and pinpointing Michael’s regular hangout places; anything that could grant him an opportunity to have two minutes of Michael Bradford’s undivided attention.
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