"Do we really have to move again?" Loki's voice was small, still timid and unsure if his words were worth saying.
Frigga kneeled down to her youngest son, placing a fine fingered hand on his slight shoulder. "Now, Loki, we've told you a dozen times. Your father is a very important man. Many people want him to take this job. You don't want them to be angry at your father, do you?"
Young Loki is ten years old. Nine years seems like a long time to him, nine years is nearly his whole life. Nine years. Nine years. It's replaying in his mind like someone knocked against a radio and set it on an endless repeat of two words, over and over.
Nine years, they'll be living in The United States. It's a long ways away from Norway, he thinks, and nine years is almost forever. But he doesn't get a choice. It's fathers' choice.
"Children do not know what is best for them." His father said.
"Loki, I know it seems scary but think of all the people you'll meet there. All the friends you'll make. Cheer up, my darling. It will be wonderful, you'll see." His mother said.
He doesn't believe them. Thor does, but he's certainly not Thor.
Young Loki is now seventeen years old. He still doesn't believe his parents when they tell him things will be okay. But he is sure of his voice now; he knows his voice and words are worth hearing. He knows how to make people listen, and in some cases, how to control their thoughts. To a certain extent at least.
Loki sighed and scrolled through the endless amounts of rubbish on his mobile phone before his ears were greeted by the sweet symphony of the lunch bell. He stood, stretching his arms over his head, taking note of the two girls in the front of the class that stared at the small strip of flesh exposed between his shirt and jeans. He put his arms back down and cracked his neck, smiling at one of the girls on his way out. Janine, he believed she was called.
The halls were filled with his classmates, all shoulder to shoulder shuffling to wherever they were going. He stopped briefly in the cafeteria to buy an apple before making his way through the crowds to the lawn. He smiled slyly at a group of sophomore girls as they passed; satisfaction tugged the corner of his mouth higher at their sudden increase in nervous giggling.
He made it to his preferred spot in record time, hoping, no, praying to the gods that Thor was off with the rest of his meathead friends. You know, a quiet, peaceful lunch is not that much to ask for, really.
He bit into the ripe red flesh of the apple as he opened his advanced calculus text book. The truth being that this school didn't even offer advanced calculus, this was pure pleasure reading. And a pleasure it was, Loki was lost in his book for several minutes before he realized he was being called to.
"Loki!" His jaw clenched at the sound of his brother yelling his name from across the lawn. He swallowed his annoyance and turned around with a smile, giving his brother—and company—a curt wave.
Thor trotted over to the table, beating the rest of the group by a few yards. Sif and Fandral seemed to be engaged in a rather intense discussion. Volstagg was nowhere to be found, most likely scrounging up enough food to feed an army.
"Enjoying your lunch, brother?" Thor questioned lightly. His eyes fell to Loki's lap where his book rested.
"I am actually," Before he could finish his sentence Thors' attention was elsewhere. His book was lifted from his lap and looked at like a creature that, if one moved too fast, would bite.
"What an earth are you reading?" Thor took a seat on the table top, letting his long legs hang from the edge. The black haired boy reached out and quickly plucked the book from his brother's grasp. Closing the book and placing it on the table in front of him.
Fandral walked lazily up to them, leaning over Loki's shoulder to look at the book in front of him. "You are the only sane man on earth that reads textbooks for fun. Did you know that, Loki?"
Sif took her seat across from Loki a bottle of flavoured water in her hand. She was no doubt recharging her body for whatever sport was the flavour of the week. Last month she was pining to be a baseball star, the month before that she claimed she had found her true calling in basketball, it truly never ended with her.
"So, Loki, odd reading habits aside. Have you heard of the new student? They say he may even be more of a know-it-all than you." She tilted her drink towards him slightly. When he cocked an inky eyebrow at her, she continued in a voice that sounded a bit too pleased. "But don't worry, I defended you. Impossible! I said, to be more pretentiously informed on every subject under the sun than our dear Loki would be unmanageable!"
They all laughed, though Lokis' was more of a well-mannered chuckle than anything. He enjoyed Thors' friends on occasion but was loath to spend more than a few hours with them at a time. Aside from Sif they were all idiots, not that Sif was any genius, but she listened to Loki ramble about science and computers. He appreciated that. So he returned the favour by listening to her rant about sports.
Once Thors thunderous laughter ceased he looked at his brother. "But in all seriousness, brother, I believe you should befriend our new classmate. You have so few friends that you can speak to about your interests." His eyes were seemingly full of concern and well-meaning but all Loki could see was condescension.
"I have plenty of friends, Thor." He retorted a bit too quickly; making a point to relax his face lest he be glaring at the oaf unconsciously.
"No, you've a great many pleasant acquaintances but few friends." Fandral cut in sharply.
"Consider it, Loki." Sif agreed, just as Volstagg arrived with a mountain of food on his tray.
"It looks like you cleaned out the entire cafeteria." Fandral stated, sipping his soda and biting into an ill-prepared sandwich. "They should pay you for all of that garbage you get rid of for them, you know?"
The rest of the lunch passed without event. Loki had two classes with the new student at the end of the day. Stark was his name, and apparently he was filthy rich. Loki was caught staring at Stark twice by Sif who, in short, believed it to be "Love at first sight" foolish girl, she is.
He had his doubts, Stark may have been rich, smart, admittedly very handsome, and apparently a very smooth talker, but by the end of the day Loki decided he didn't want anything to do with the boy.
A/N: So this is my first fanfic. A little nervous about posting it here but hey, who knows, maybe you actually liked it. There isn't much to this first chapter but the next one will be longer, much, much, longer.