Minion was bored. He was bored in his too-small, un-moving fishbowl, the water slapping lazily against his gills as he flopped on the floor of his spherical home. The light brown speckles across the back of his head cast a shadow across the school table – dappled shadow that stretched across from the dull beige plastic to the back of his master's hand; thin, long fingers, a regular-sized palm (for an eleven year old, of course) and the gentle wash of sky-blue that was the alien boy's hand.
His master, or, as he affectionately called him, Sir, had his head propped up on his skinny arm, the abnormally fat curve of his skull dominating his features; large, deep green eyes, a straight nose and a pointed chin, accompanied by a wearied innocence quite unusual of a child of thirteen.
Prisoner No 856 glanced over at the party of rowdy classmates gathered by the teacher's desk, clamouring all together to be heard as Super Boy hovered lazily above his goons, stroking his defined jaw with the tip of his finger as he gazed around, occasionally picking out a happy few from the crowd below. The teacher sat proudly behind the desk, her light brown hair which had been scooped previously into a bun dishevelled, yet another result of her least favourite pupil's latest attempt at acceptance – this time it had been a singing bouquet of flowers, which had shorted out when Sir had accidentally dropped it in her coffee mug, and had decided to blow up in both of their faces.
He stared sadly at his charred fingertips, picking out a chip of blackened lint from under the nail and flicking it toward his supposed 'fellow pupils'. Minion batted against the side of the bowl with his square head, switching Sir out of his gloomy trance. Resting his hand against the glass, the boy gave a small, sad smile as Minion snuggled through the surface and tried to emanate as much comfort as possible.
"Boy! Hey, Blueberry!"
The aforementioned outcast whipped round in sudden hope, creasing the collar of his orange prison jumpsuit as stood quickly up. Wonder Boy glided toward him, a slightly scornful expression on his face.
"Now, now, friends," the grinning idiot said, "What did I tell you about calling the boy names?"
"He is not worth it," they chorused, the loudest a pale girl with a snub nose and lank blonde hair. Minion narrowed his eyes through the glass at her. Her expression was of utter adoration as she smiled sickeningly-sweet at Levitating Loser.
"What is it?" the alien replied quietly, the last dregs of hope that had illuminated his face draining away.
"There is a new student coming today," he announced, "And you are to stay completely out of her way to not frighten her with your weird looks."
Defiance flared in the outcast's eyes, and his fists clenched at his sides. "What if I don't?"
The teacher cleared her throat at the other end of the classroom, and tapped a sleek black phone lying dormant on her desk, her chipped, puce polished nail sounding exactly like The Warden's footsteps stamping furiously down to the school yard.
Minion watched Sir shrink in defeat, the thought of going back to his damp, unlit cell worse than the mild torture he endured amongst his fellows.
The day passed into late afternoon as per normal – the shadows deepened over the loner and his Minion, and the steady, pained seclusion throbbed through the impressive cranium of the former, his sparkling green irises dulling with mistreatment, his elaborate, innocent thoughts fleeing before he could join them into something comprehensible, something he could focus on and just block everything out.
Then, just as he made a cradle of his thin arms and had lain his heavy head down, the door creaked open, and two people entered the suddenly quiet room, closing the warped wood behind them.
Twisting his cubic body around, Minion watched with interested brown eyes at the pair that had disrupted the day's flow.
A short but somewhat handsome man, with slight stubble peppering his cheeks and a crop of thick auburn hair, stood casually on the colourful carpet, leaning on a nearby table and watching with an amused eye at the dumbstruck pupils scattered on the floor. A slender young girl with curling mahogany tresses and downcast silver-gray eyes shifted uncomfortably next to him, the small pale hand of hers slipped neatly into the man's large tanned one.
The man squeezed her fingers almost imperceptibly, then looked at the teacher, his thick lips splitting open in a winning smile.
"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," the man remarked politely, to which a blush and a shake of the head was given, as well as a 'no, no, please sit down,' His voice was laced with a heavy Irish brogue.
The girl leaned in closer to his tailored sleeve, head turning instinctually to press her face closer and causing her rippling curls to wave gracefully down her back. The almost bony jut of her collar peeked above the collar of her light summer dress, her smooth white shoulders and delicate limbs tucked behind the crook of her companion's bent arm.
He gave her a little shake, then gently prised her off and gave a push to the small of her back, sending her stumbling forwards and blinking uncertainly in the gaze of the gathered class.
"Boys, girls," the teacher smiled chirpily, standing from her desk and tip-tapping over to the latest arrival.
"This is your new classmate, Evie Knight. I want you all to make her feel extra welcome, OK? Now behave yourselves while I go and have a little talk with Mr Knight."
The teacher's eyes went suddenly cold at 'behave', and she glanced at Minion's corner, her upper lip curling slightly as if to say 'that means you'. His master took the hint, the deep green depths of his irises looking down in sudden shame and embarrassment.
Evie followed the teacher's gaze and her silver orbs found the disgraced pupil, and her slightly-wide pink mouth tightened at the corners, as if mildly repulsed. She pushed back her chestnut veil of hair in front of her cheek and tilted her head to the side, so that the offensive pupil was hidden from her view.
Minion watched in disgust as she slowly returned Wayne Scott's dazzling smile and accepted a fellow pupil's friendly arm, pulled almost immediately into the circle of classmates seated on the carpet. She was soon talking fervently with the snub-nosed girl's gaggle of girlfriends, smiling carelessly as they touched and complimented her silken bronze hair and fair skin, blushing in a sudden wave of nervousness as a sudden snide remark was cut across from Rebecca Lee about the wideness of her mouth, and the deep hue of her slightly swollen lips.
The more Minion observed, the more he heard and therefore saw the flaws pointed of Evie Knight's appearance – her cheekbones too low cut, her eyebrows too strong, the white summer dress she wore not grown-up enough.
Evie's cheeks grew redder and redder as conversation rose to a buzz about her, and there was quiet fury in her eyes, now a flat, metallic steel shade. Minion guessed almost immediately what had caused this sudden surge against Evie. She was different. Yes, she had rejected his master – but she must've been out of sync with the drone of her fellows' limited minds. He hadn't heard the entire flow of conversation, but the odd 'that's stupid' and 'don't say that' had drifted across.
There was a ripple of dissent in the gathered crowd around Evie, and the new girl's mocked mouth gaped in outrage at the smugly-faced countenance of Elijah Kipling, his freckled face stretched into a grin. She snapped upright and Elijah followed, and Minion noticed with a note of interest the worried look playing about the Boy Wonder's eyes, as if he was troubled with this turn of events, but he did not intercede with its outgoings.
Then Elijah sneered something that prompted a reaction from both the hesitant Wayne Scott and the unfortunate victim of his jibe. Wayne reached across with a stern shout at Elijah, shaking his shoulder hard in reprimand. Evie straightened up, water beginning to well in her eyes, then yelled something incoherent to Minion's ears at the offender and stamped squarely on his toe.
Elijah screeched and the crowd gasped, and Minion felt his bowl rock gently as Sir tightened his grip on the glass, letting out a soft exclamation in astonishment. She whipped round on her heel, marching firmly past her guardian and the teacher (who had burst into the room at Evie's yell), hot tears rolling down her flushed face.
"Minion," Sir whispered conspiratorially, leaning closer to the fish.
"Did you SEE what she did?"