.
Live and Let Live
"Alex Rider?"
Grace Dearborn waited a moment before glancing up and scanning the classroom.
"Alex Rider?"
A boy with short, messy black hair sitting near the back idly half-raised his hand before rolling his eyes. "He's here."
He allowed his hand to drop, falling on the golden-haired head of the sleeping student sitting next to him. There was some shifting accompanied by a quiet mutter of "fuck off". Grace frowned.
"Alex Rider," she said loudly, earning him another nudge from his best friend. Finally, the head lifted a little, revealing the still partly-concealed face of one sleepy Alex Rider. Sleepy, annoyed Alex Rider.
"Yes?" he asked pointedly, drawing a few muffled laughs from people throughout the classroom. His classmates always did enjoy watching him display his nerve.
Grace Dearborn was the new English professor for year ten. Their previous teacher, Abigail Gosling, had been carted off on maternity leave the week prior. She was to take her place for the rest of the year, and perhaps earn herself a permanent fixture at the prestigious Brookland School. But first, she'd have to get to know the more… colorful students.
(She had no idea.)
It seemed that she'd been merely lucky this far; Alex was the first challenging student she'd had the pleasure of encountering at Brookland. Evaluating the situation, she decided to assert her authority right off the bat just as her professors had taught her to.
"Mr. Rider," she said in a loud, clear voice. "Just because Mrs. Gosling is no longer your teacher doesn't mean you may use this class as a time to catch up on your sleep. Your education is very important! Although they may not seem that important right now, the skills you take with you out of high school are some of the most useful and…"
She was alerted by more quiet laughter that he'd already fallen back asleep.
"Alex Rider!" she snapped, louder this time, and Alex raised his head again. His dark haired friend was placing a consoling hand on the boy's shoulder already, although the unconcerned grin on his face made it clear he hadn't a care in the world.
Alex yawned loudly before sitting up and rubbing his face. All the while, Grace sat and gaped at the young boy's obvious lack of respect for classroom settings. He fixed her with his intense gaze once again, and she wondered why a boy so clearly ill-bred managed to procure such a predatory sharpness in his light brown eyes.
"Grace Dearborn, yes?" he addressed her casually, and Grace's cheeks flamed red. For some reason she felt like the student in this boy's (conscious) presence.
"Yes," she ground out, frustrated at her own reaction. "You'd know that had you been awake when I introduced myself."
"Must have been awake then," he responded reasonably, despite the fact that the farthermost side of the class had heard Tom whisper the name to Alex just before he'd said it. "Ms. Dearborn, I apologize for occupying your time like this, but I didn't sleep at all last night… or the night before that. This is my fifty-first hour of wakefulness, if you don't count my twenty minute nap of late."
Grace was rendered speechless for a very long five seconds before hastily responding. "N-nevertheless, students are expected to–"
"Furthermore," he interrupted her, pausing in order to initiate another, smaller yawn. "… I have been issued two different prescription painkillers, both of which retain narcolepsy as a side effect. Tom, tell her what a miracle it is that I am still awake right now."
"One heck of a miracle, I'd say," Tom replied animatedly before mock-punching Alex in the shoulder. "This one's made of some solid stuff!"
Tom continued to feel up Alex's arm, pretending to coo at the muscle tone while Alex carried on as though completely unaware of his best friend's actions. "I have a doctor's note in my bag as well as a note from Jack – she's my guardian. I can…"
Just then, Grace's phone rang. She shot a severe look at Alex before moving in its direction, lifting the phone from its cradle and greeting shortly, "Ms. Dearborn."
"Hello Grace, do you have an Alex Rider present in your class?"
Slightly taken aback by the unlikelihood that the boy she'd just been conversing with was now being requested by the administration's office, Grace numbly replied,
"Yes, I do. What's the situation?"
To her dismay, Alex Rider was already pulling together his things, preparing to leave his desk. Oddly enough, none of the other students seemed slightly surprised at his sudden departure, nor did they look to be questioning the phone call's intentions to be anything other than Alex-related, hinting toward yet another clue about Alex Rider's status as an enigma at the school.
This was reaffirmed by the secretary's next words:
"I'm afraid I can't say much on the matter. There's a man on the other line who needs to speak with him. He says it's urgent."
Not even the secretary sounded too concerned. In fact from the way everybody was acting, Grace was beginning to think this was a routine thing. And who was the man? Alex had stated earlier his guardian was girl…
Alex was already by her side, so she simply handed him the phone. He waited a couple seconds before beginning to talk.
"Yes, this is him."
Grace crossed her arms skeptically, but it was undeniable the change that overcame the young boy. His stance straightened. His gaze sharpened. He took on an air of polished professionalism. And he didn't look so tired anymore.
"There's a car outside already? I have a maths test in a few minutes…"
Whatever the man said to that had Alex rolling his eyes. "Right, like I haven't heard that one before… Well, maybe it should once in a while."
Grace couldn't fathom who Alex might be talking to at this point. His doctor seemed unlikely. Perhaps his guardian's boyfriend?
"Look, can't we just do this early tomorrow? I realize it would be before the flight, but I…" he lowered his voice. "I'm not feeling very well."
There was a flight now? Grace hadn't heard anything of this.
"I just got back, though…"
The argument continued while students in the class conversed amongst themselves. Tom seemed to be watching Alex very closely. Grace tapped her watch, looking pointedly at Alex.
"For the love of – fine. I'll be out in a few. But I'd better get a bonus for this."
Pause.
"Yes, I realize I'm not actually paid. That was a joke. Can I just ask one thing before I come outside?"
Pause.
"Right. Is the car black?"
Something along the lines of beg your pardon? could be made out on the other line.
"I said, is the car black?"
Pause. Grace stared at Alex, unnerved. Alex nodded, a satisfied smile falling over his face. "I figured. Thanks."
He handed the phone back to Grace, who cautiously lifted it up to her ear and muttered, "Hello?" but whoever had been speaking was already gone. In the meantime, Alex had turned toward Tom and yelled,
"Forty-nine!"
Tom threw his fist in the air victoriously while Alex pulled his backpack onto his shoulder and smiled at Grace. The woman frowned.
"And where do you think you're…"
"Duty calls. It was nice meeting you, Grace."
Grace's jaw dropped just as Alex opened the door and left, responding to the calls of goodbye his classmates sent him with a passing wave. Grace huffed, turning to the class and hushing them. When the students had calmed down, she said,
"Tom Harris, you'll see me after class today."
"Yes ma'am," the boy responded, looking just as careless as ever. Grace was beginning to think Tom took pretty much all of life as one big joke. There wasn't much time left in English after that, so when Tom approached her desk at the end of the block, Grace waved him over.
"Mr. Harris, what was the meaning of that number Mr. Rider sent you?"
Tom grinned wildly.
"Somehow I knew you'd ask. It's a running joke between us – he counts the cars' paint-jobs. The car that came to pick Alex up in class today was the forty-ninth car in a row to be painted black."
Grace froze, staring at the boy in shock.
"Forty-nine cars have come to collect Alex Rider?"
"Forty-nine black cars in a row. A few months back there was a yellow one that broke the previous record of–"
Grace Dearborn's mind went blank, and Tom Harris watched as his new English teacher placed two fingers against the bridge of her nose and pinched tightly.
"Why is he picked up like that?" she eventually had to ask.
Tom scratched his head. "Didn't they tell you anything at all?"
"No," she admitted grudgingly. Tom shrugged.
"Oh. Well, Alex is sick."
"How sick?"
"So sick he's regularly picked up for trips to the hospital."
"Why don't they pick him up in an ambulance?"
"It's not the hospital picking him up."
"But, then… if it wasn't a doctor or his guardian on the phone, who was it?"
Tom was fixing her with a rather Alex-like stare.
"What does it matter?"
He had a point – if it was really necessary for her to be privy to the knowledge of Alex Rider's situation, she would have been told about it. Tom placed a hand against the wall and leaned, sending the woman a crooked smile.
"Live and let live, Ms. Dearborn. Don't worry."
He straightened before lifting his backpack off the floor and slinging it over his shoulder.
"You'll get used to it."
0o0o0o
TO CLARIFY: this is a one-shot. I'm already writing one AR fic in a classroom setting; I don't need to be writing a second. The story here is that I found this on my hard drive nearly finished, and decided to top it up and share it with you instead of letting it gather dust (even if it is mega old already). Sound familiar? :P
Can we have a round of applause for Sassy!Alex and Sassy!Tom? I love seeing these two stir shit up... I'd ramble on some more but I just can't at the moment; I hope you'll all forgive me.
Anyway, if you enjoyed, could you please leave a review telling me as much? I could really use the kind words right now…
And thank you very much for reading :)
- Maddy