AN: Underline means texting
This is not a one shot, I expect many more chapters. School ends next week so I should be writing almost every day once school lets out. For those of you waiting for the next chapter of my Nightshade fic, I have not abandoned it. I found this prompt and inspiration just hit me. No beta, all mistakes are mine.
"Dean, let's go! You're gunna be late for your first day!" John called from the bottom of the stairs.
"Dad, I'm not in first grade anymore, I'm a senior". I replied as I ran down the stairs, grabbing my backpack off the banister.
"I know, but it's your last year as a student living under my roof, I'm excited for you", he said as he pulled me into a hug. "Gahhh Dad, give it a rest", I said while chuckling and hugging him back, as best as I could with a backpack over my left shoulder. "I'll see you after school" I called running out the door. "Dean!" I hear dad call from the house, I turn to face him with a guilty smile on my face, "Give your mother a hug, boy. Oh, don't forget you have to drive Sammy to and from school". "Sure thing Dad" I say, dropping my backpack off in the back seat of my black '67 Impala before dashing back into the house. It is already 7 o'clock and school starts in twenty minutes. If Sammy doesn't get a move on we are going to be late.
Marry walks out of the kitchen with an apron tied around her waist. Her arms are outstretched to me, welcoming me into her arms. I closed the distance between us, pulling her into a hug. She smells like cookies, she is always baking so that makes sense. "Sammy, let's go. We're gunna be late!" I call as I release Mom. Sam pelts down the stairs dipping own to pick his backpack off of the floor where he dumped it last night.
"Sam, you are starting your freshman year of high school today and you are still acting like a kindergartener". I said, smiling at my goof of a brother.
"No" Sam countered, "If I was a kindergartener, I would not want to go. I happen to like going to school. I have goals, ya know, Stanford". "Yep, sure thing kiddo. Anything you say", I retorted sarcastically. I supported Sam with his dream but teased him about it relentlessly. Sam and I ran out of the house and into the Impala, with only ten minutes to go until the final bell, we couldn't afford to be late. He chucked his backpack in the back of the car and squeezed his already tall form into the passenger side of the car.
I floored the petal, racing down the driveway and into the street blasting "Back in Black" by AC/DC. Sam rolled his eyes as usual. Nothing has changed, but I would miss this with Sam when I graduated in the spring.
We arrived in the school parking lot with only five minutes until the final bell. I turned off the car as Sam and I ran for the building, avoiding all of the confused fresh-meat, I mean freshman. I was a senior, so I already know my way around school and Sam has been here so many times he could probably navigate the halls in his sleep. Which is something I have no doubt he will be doing at some point in his high school career.
I pulled out my schedule on more time and looked at it, my first period class was physics with Mrs. Harvelle. Ok, physics that will be fun…maybe. My eyes travel further down the page to my third and fifth classes. We have block scheduling, so whatever class I have for seventh block, I will have every day for the entire year. History. I have history. I have history every single day of the year! I hate history! UGH!
I look up to see room 227 with a sign that says:
WELCOME SENIORS '15
MS. HARVELLE
PHYSICS
I enter my physics room and take the seat closest to the window. I fold up my schedule and stick it inside the front left inside pocket of my jacket. I look around and see only about fifteen other kids, hmm…are people skipping or is this class just small? Ms. Harvelle walks in and calls the class to attention. Listing school supplies we will need and lab fees, I zone her out. After all, we will be getting this on sheets of paper. She hands a stack of paper out to some kid in the first row. The kid gets up and starts passing out papers. Still mostly zoned out, I jump a little when he places a stack of papers on my desk. Absentmindedly flipping through the stack of papers, I feel my phone buzz in my pocket, it Sam.
Dean! High school is weird and everyone is stupid.
Sam, you text like a three year old. You're a freshman, act like it.
Fine…I'll be sassy and we can have chick-flick moments on the hood of your car.
DON'T YOU DARE
…
…
Sam?
Ha-ha, had you worried for a second there? I'll see you after school, assuming I don't kill these morons first.
"Excuse me? Jock with the phone?" I looked up, "Yes, hi. I'm trying to teach a class. Please put your phone in the phone bucket".
"Are you serious?"
"Oh yes, very serious". I get up and drop my phone in the bucket she was pointing to labeled:
PHONE BUCKET
YOU'LL GET THEM AFTER CLASS
(IF I FEEL LIKE IT)
Oh great, I got the teacher who thinks she's super funny.
The rest of class is a bore, with two warm-up quizzes, worksheets and packets for homework. Not even in senior year do we get a break. The bell rings and I get up and move towards the phone bucket. Ms. Harvelle calls me over and says, "Dean, why were you on your phone during class?" "Oh, it's my little brothers first day of high school and he just got a little nervous." She gave me a look, "You're not bullshitting me, are you Dean? I feel like I can use language with you because you're a senior and you have a curtain level of maturity. This includes the rest of the school year, as well, I'm sure." The tone of her voice was clearly implying something.
"Of course Ms. Harvelle, you've got it. Can I um…have my phone back?"
"Yes, as long as you promise to never let it happen again."
"Ok, I promise."
"I mean it Dean. You don't even know where you want to go to school yet, do you?"
"No..." I replied, unsure of where she was going with this.
"You just need to retain your level of commitment, focus on college, on school. Let your brother find his own way." At this point I was going to be late to my next class and would say whatever it takes to get out of here.
"Absolutely, Ms. Harvelle"
"Good boy Dean, do you need a pass for your next class?" I looked down at my schedule and saw that it was on the complete opposite end of campus, "Yes please."
She leaned over her desk to pick up a pad of paper. She wrote Dean Winchester to... "Dean, what is your next class?"
"Mr. Shurley for World Literature"
…Chuck Shurley 9:15am Tuesday, September 9th.
"Here you go Dean" she said as she handed the pass to me along with my phone. "Goodbye Ms. Harvelle" I called as I left the room. "Goodbye Dean."
Third and fifth block breezed by, world literature and Latin being two of my best subjects. Now it was time for the subject that I dreaded the most, history. Walking from Latin, I passed Sammy in the hall. "HEY SAM!" His head whipped up from his Calculous book, nerd, I thought to myself with a laugh. "Ha-ha, hey Dean!" he greeted as he walked over towards me. "How are you liking school?" I asked him. "Ehh, middle school was full of chill people but high school…" he said with a hint of joking disgust in his voice. Ending his sentence with a laugh, it was to contagious not to join him. "It was good to see you Sam, I'll see you in the parking lot at 2:30?" "Ayep" he responded and continued walking to his next class.
I walked to the trailers, locating the class labeled Mr. Singer – History and opened the door. God, I was going to hate this class.
AN: This is my first supernatural fic, what do you think? I found this prompt off of Tumblr/IFunny so if anyone knows someone who put this up, please contact me and I will give them credit. No beta, all mistakes are my own. If you are interested in beta-ing with me, please contact me.
The next chapter should be up by next week. This chapter feels a little short but I wanted to get a little sample out there. Read and review please. Review are food for the plot bunnies.