Ch1: Morning Classes
Gilbert stared at the paper that was handed to him by the bespectacled, ever-scowling, forever-grumpy and suspiciously stinky Mr. Edelstein. It was blotched full of angry red marks, covering the paper from head to toe. At the very top right-hand corner, a very nice 29 encompassed in a red circle glared out at him.
All things considered, not bad. Not bad at all. Specially since it was Geometry. Specially because it was geometry.
A cough made him look up. Youthful crimson red met the annoyed hard lines and steel purple eyes of one Mr Edelstein.
"Yeeeees?" Gilbert asked in that annoying tone of his, an arrogant smirk gracing his pale features. Mr. Edelstein's frown deepened, annoyance dancing in his eyes. Annoyance turned into malice. Hmm that did not bode well. Nope. Before Gilbert had the chance of stuffing the test away – preferably between the lined pages of a random notebook – he felt the thin paper slip out of his grasp in one forceful and paper-crinkling motion.
"Class, this is exactly what not to do," the teacher announced to the class loudly, holding up Gilbert's multicolored test up for all to see. "Please refrain from messing up a test this bad in the future, as Mr. Beilschmidt here has somehow managed to do."
Everyone laughed, their laughter cutting deeply into Gilbert's heart. He heard someone whisper "Seriously? But that was super easy!" and someone else commented "That's cuz he's stupid." Even though the only thing Gilbert felt like doing at the moment was to make himself smaller and hide under the desk, he got his bearings and forced his famous happy smirk on his lips.
"Always a pleasure, Mr. Grumps," Gilbert quipped at the teacher. The class sniggered, making some of the weight in his heart ease up a bit. Not laughing at him, but with him now! Mr. Edelstein's eyes narrowed, not liking being called Mr. Grumps, probably, even if the name was pretty... accurate. Actually, a more accurate name would be Mr. Prissy, Gilbert silently mused to himself. Mr. Edelstein tsked regally – regaining lost attention – and made a show of looking over his test, one arm held behind his back. Che, aristocrat much?
"Really, Mr. Beilschmidt?" Mr. Edelstein commented nasally, "I did not know that the concept of square roots was so difficult for you to grasp – or that of addition and subtraction, for that matter."
Oh yeah? Well I didn't know that the concept of showering was so difficult for you to grasp – or that of soap and deodorant, for that matter.
Gilbert scowled at the desk, keeping that thought from leaving his mouth with some difficulty, wishing for the bell to ring. Don't let them see how much this is affecting you, he reminded himself. Bell should ring any second now.
"Stupid."
Bell, time to ring.
"Haha! Serves him right!"
You can ring now.
"Honestly, he's so annoying – can't we ever get anything done with him in class?"
Oh Bell, where art thou? And can you spare Gilbert so?
"He's so pathetic, look at him! He doesn't even care."
Ooh~ Bell~ Caaaan~ you RIIING~ by the dawn's early light~
"Worthless idiot."
Fuck you, Bell.
"Well, I didn't know that the concept of deodorant was so difficult for you to grasp," Gilbert shot at the teacher, feeling a bit riled up. It dawned on him a second later that the words held some venom tone wise, and that he should work on keeping his mouth shut. "But, hey, no one can be as awesome as me~ Kesesese~" Gilbert had no idea why he said that, but it worked in covering his earlier slip up. He doubted anyone noticed, anyways.
"That made no sense, Mr. Beilschmidt." Mr Edelstein's eye twitched, and Gilbert could see a furious light glinting behind them that made even him a little wary. "And I do not appreciate smart comebacks, Mr. Beilschmidt, not even the ones that took you five minutes to think up."
Nope. I just have good self-restraint... most of the time... ish. Crap the Priss looks kind of scary-
"And for your rude behavior, Mr. Beilschmidt, you and your 'Awesomeness' can march straight to the Principal's Off-"
The bell rang.
Gilbert fished his test from the evil clutches of Mr Prissy-Pants and was out the door with his things before the grumpy 'general math' teacher could finish that sentence.
"GILBERT BEILSCHMIDT!"
Gilbert ran to his next class, which was, thankfully, at the other end of the spectrum.
Of course, contrary to popular belief, Gilbert's life was never that easy.
He entered a hallway, he could see his next class all the way at the other end, but just as he did so he was blocked by none other than Francis Bonnefoy and Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo AKA two of the most popular jocks in Hetaroma High AKA two of his personal tormentors.
Great. Same thing as every day. How awesome.
Please note the sarcasm.
"Fuck off."
"Ohonhonhon~ now that's no way to talk to your betters, oui?" Francis leaned his back slightly against the lockers, arms crossed and one foot resting on the never-ending wall of green metal. "We must teach 'im a lesson, don't you think, mon ami?"
"Si, you shouldn't swear in the hallways!" the bubbly Spaniard said happily, but Gilbert could see the satisfaction underneath that carefree smile.
Gilbert scowled at them, but said nothing. Say nothing, do nothing. Say nothing, do nothi-
"Ah, you should be careful with zat scowl, mon cher," Francis smirked at him, "We wouldn't want your face to stay zat way forever, non?"
Antonio laughed. "Not possible, amigo!" he grinned at Gilbert. Gilbert's crimson eyes narrowed. "He's always scowling, so there wouldn't be any improvement!"
Give me a reason why I shouldn't be scowling, dummkopf.
"Oui, I bet if he showed something else other zan a scowl then the mirror would break."
Gilbert bit the inside of his cheek; say nothing, do nothing!
"You mean to say that the mirror wouldn't break now?" Antonio looked at the Frenchman in confusion. "Yo pienso que his face has no chance, verdad?"
"Oui," Francis gave a single, solemn nod. "No chance at all. 'Is face gets uglier and uglier every time I see 'im."
Antonio laughed, making Gilbert want to crawl under his bed and just stay there until the Apocalypse.
The second bell rang.
What a beautiful sound.
Gilbert started going to class, but was stopped by a rough hand pulling the hood of his Prussian Blue hoodie back, making him momentarily choke. He was then slammed against the lockers by Francis. The Parisian had his elbow pressed against Gilbert's chest, pinning him down. He looked at it, resolved to make absolutely no eye-contact.
"Where do you think you're going, mon chere?"
Gilbert said nothing. If something came out of his mouth, it wouldn't be pretty. Say nothing, do nothing. No witty retorts. No sucker punching the French student or knocking out the Spanish one. No kicking of the nuts of any kind.
"Class, you know, that place where they take monkeys just like you and try to educate them? I'd rather appreciate it if you let go of me."
Francis' azure blue eyes narrowed dangerously. "We should teach 'im a lesson; Antonio?"
From behind Francis, Antonio popped his knuckles, friendly grin never leaving.
Uh-oh. Now what? Francis punched him in the gut, making Gilbert bend over himself, half slumping. He heard something metal creak open, and was then promptly manhandled by the two inside a small very cramped space in the wall – Gilbert's red hues widened when he realized that he was unceremoniously being stuffed inside a locker. He tried to get out, but Antonio pushed him back inside – Gilbert had none of that, though, so he pushed himself out one more time, but this time, instead of going for freedom like a normal person would, he sucker punched the Spaniard in the mouth, making the tan boy cry out in pain. Gilbert was then shoved from the side by Francis, causing him to yelp and trip back in – and hitting his head on the metallic wall behind him, pain making him close his eyes on impact.
SLAM!
Gilbert opened his eyes. It would have been completely dark if it wasn't for the three horizontal lines of outside light glaring into his eyes, making him squint in discomfort.
"Ohonhon~" came the somewhat muffled laugh. "I 'ope you are comfortable in zere, Gilbert!"
Gilbert growled; it was far from comfortable! His chest couldn't properly expand every time he breathed because of the tight space! He couldn't move! At fucking all! His shoulders were too broad! And then there was the odd sound of air compressed in a tight metallic space zooming in his ears.
"FUCK!" Giilbert yelled angrily, hitting his forehead on the locked door. He squirmed inside the small-spaced goddammed coffin. The walls felt as if they were pressing in on him.
He heard laughter. Gilbert felt anger course through his veins, making him all warm around his neck – or was that embarrassment? He did not know. One thing he did know, though, was that when he got out of here he was going to-
"You are a fail, mi querido rival," Antonio's happy voice floated in.
"So was your dad's condom," came the instant reply.
KA-BLAM! Gilbert flinched at the loudness, the sound having been amplified in the small space; Antonio had kicked the locker, and was now swearing non-stop in Spanish, Francis trying to calm him down, if the muffled French nonsensical garble was anything to go by.
An angry Antonio was rare and nearly un-heard of. An angry Antonio was a scary Antonio. Huh, maybe being stuck inside this locker wasn't such a bad thing...
Angry Antonio aside, Gilbert felt that he was screwed. He messed up. He messed up again.
Gilbert decided then and there that he should probably start finding a new route. It was that or getting sent to the Principal's Office (capital letters) yet again. He's been sent there so many times by now, that the whole staff knew his full name, phone number, and class schedule by heart. Yes, even the interns. He had quite the impressive record... and reputation. In fact, his "delinquent reputation" extended all the way through town, not only the high school.
Too bad no one understood that Gilbert, despite his so called delinquent record, was actually far from being one. Was it really his fault that trouble always seemed to find him one way or another? That he had really really bad timing? That no one liked him despite not knowing him? He tried, he really did sometimes, but was it his fault that on top of having bad luck, he was maybe a tad too prideful? If people stopped ganging up on him so much, then they would probably discover that Gilbert was actually quite mellow deep inside. Deep, deep inside.
But, lately, Gilbert's been trying extra hard not to fight back. Contrary to popular belief, he really didn't want to get expelled...
So much for not fighting back.
...
...
...Oh Gott, It smelled like month-old socks in here.