The teenager ran half heartedly to his class. Not that he cared for class, it was his senior year anyway, but he still didn't like being late. It was already 8:45 and he knew Mr. Walter will give him hell and detention for the next 3 days. He couldn't care less what the old gazer thought of him, and he didn't really have anything good to do for the next 3 days anyway.
He stopped in front of the door, rearranged his uniform, knocked and walked in. only the shouts didn't come right at him like he expected from his teacher. In fact, Mr. Walter seemed to be in a very good mood and simply told the boy to sit down quietly.
The brunet scanned the room to try and figure whether his classmates knew anything about their teacher's odd behavior. Seeing no one had any info in the matter he simply went and sat at his usual place next to one of his best friends. The other smiled at him and greeted him with his Bolton accent.
"Mornin' mate!"
"Hey Dan. What's up with him?" He nodded towards their teacher, who was now cleaning the black board (why do people still call it black-board? IT'S NOT EVEN BLACK!) a bit too cheerfully then needed.
"No clue. Maybe he got promoted or something?"
"At teaching? Seriously?" the other arched an eyebrow at him.
"Well then, Mr. Smarty-pants, what's your theory?"
"I—"
"Mr. Jones and Mr. Judd! Please stop your chattering at this instance! Now, as I was saying…"
Harry turned to look back at his teacher just as there was a knock at the door. The door opened, revealing a student Harry had never seen before. He had blond hair and chocolaty brown eyes. He looked a bit scared but tried to hide it by looking serious and mature.
The student walked inside and looked around. His eyes lingered on Harry for a few more seconds then necessary, then he turned to the teacher.
"Are you Mr. Walter?"
Harry swallowed and lowered the hat he usually wore to hid his scar. Ever since he got it Harry hated that scar, so he convinced the teachers to let him wear that baseball hat of his at school.
Mr. Walter turned to the student excitedly and announced that this was a new student that transferred from some high-class school.
"Guess that's why he's all weird. Another great student to his freaky collection." Danny whispered as the teacher asked the new kid to introduce himself.
"I am Thomas Michael Fletcher. Nice to meet you all." the boy said then his eyes landed on Harry once more. Harry gripped the tip of his hat, illuminating shadows around his eyes. Making him a little like a hitter from some comic book.
"Well Thomas, it's lovely to have you in our class and I'm sure that you will get along with the other students. Now, go sit… over there. There is an empty seat behind Judd." Their teacher spoke, completely unaware to the tension that grew in between the two teens. Harry grunted at the mention of his name, causing the sides of Thomas' mouth to slightly twitch into a small smirk. It was clear to Harry now that the blond was studying him.
Thomas walked over to the empty seat behind Harry and sat down, looking around and checking his surroundings.
The double history lesson they had went well, but Harry just couldn't concentrate. He could feel the new kid, Thomas, staring as his back though the entire time. Practically piercing holes in his back with his gaze.
When the bell rang for the break Harry fled the room, Danny chasing him to their normal spot under the big oak tree that was behind the library.
"Wow, mate! What's gotten into you? What's the rush?"
"It's that new guy…" Harry signed, finally stopping under the tree. "He gave me the creeps."
"Someone scared Harry? Harry? Who's the son-of-a-devil?"
The two teen's turned to greet their best friend, Dougie. He was one year younger than them so they didn't study together, but he was still with them every break. The boy sat between Harry and Danny and the northerner started talking about Thomas and Mr. Walter's funny behavior.
In the mean time Harry looked up at the blue sky and took off his hat. This was the only place within the school grounds that Harry would take it off and reveal his scar. The scar wasn't annoying him because it was ugly or anything. In fact, it was pretty cool. A scar like lightning. Well, even though he's was on the side of his head instead of his forehead, it was still sort of like Harry potter's scar so he didn't like that fact, but that wasn't the reason he hated it. Harry hated that scar because it was a reminder. Even Dougie and Danny didn't know the real way he got that scar. He told them he ran into a glass window, but that wasn't true. Harry shook he's head and pushed those thoughts aside so he won't have to remember.
"So let me get this straight… a geek with blond hair and puppy brown eyes scared the god of war?"
"Doug, for the last time, please stop calling me that!"
"Give it up, Haz. He'll never stop. And that reminds me! When is your next match?"
"They're not matches, Danny, they are fights. And our victorious god will win for sure. He always does."
"Whatever, Dougz. So? When is it?"
"I'm not supposed to have any in the near future, actually. People already know I'm strong so no one challenged me in quite a bit."
No one but Dougie and Danny knew about Harry's secret 'street-life'. Harry ran away from home and moved to their city. He now lived in this old house that was abandoned, but sometimes (most of the time actually) he slept over at Danny's or Dougie's houses. They're moms liked him very much so they've never asked him why he comes over so much, afraid he will be offended or feel unwelcomed and won't come anymore. This was very fortunate for Harry. That way he didn't have to come up with excuses.
Harry learned martial arts when he was younger. One day, just after he moved to the city, he got into a street fight. He won, but his hat fell off in the middle of the fight and the guys watching the fight gave him the nickname 'Flash'. Like a flash of lightning. A name he earned thanks to not only his lightning-shaped scar, but also because of his fighting style.
Harry fought with bare hands wide open, hitting his opponent with the side of his hand at vital spots such as the neck, back, sides of his ribcage, knees or just upside the head.
His strongest hit though was dodging his opponent, standing above him and hitting him down on the back of his neck. Just like a lightning striking and slicing through the sky. Yet Harry never used that one in his fights. It was too strong and endangered his opponent's life. Harry was a fighter, not a killer.
Plus, Harry was 'fast like lightning' so it was no question that the name fitted him perfectly.
At first Harry tried to keep away from the fighting, but other fighters kept challenging him until he gave in. now it was practically his hobby. After they became close friends Harry told Danny and Dougie about he fights, and the two decided that since Harry never lost, they could at least make some money out of it. Each time they'd go around the crowed and have bets with the people and fighters that watched the fight and got money when Harry won. Harry would get 50% and the other two will get 25%. Harry didn't like that idea at first, but he gave in when he saw that, Dougie and Danny being themselves, he couldn't change his friends' minds. Plus he needed the money for food and clothing. Sometimes he would get things for he's new house, but since most of the furniture was already there when he moved in that only happened when he broke something or needed to get something fixed.
"Hey, isn't that him? The creep?"
Harry turned his gaze towards the place Dougie was pointing at to see the blond in question rounding the corner and spotting them. He started walking towards them. Harry swore under his breath as he placed his hat back on, something that didn't go unnoticed by Thomas, and Dougie quickly hid his hand behind his back. As if that wasn't suspicious in the slightest.
"You know it's very rude to point at people. Hello Jones… Judd."
Dougie stock his tongue out at him in response, causing the older blond to roll his eyes at him. "And who are you, if I may ask? I haven't seen you in our class."
"He's name is Dougie and he's one year younger than us." Danny said before he bit into the sandwich he pulled out of god-knows-where.
"I see. May I sit with you?"
Instead on being answered, Thomas was pulled down by Danny into a sitting position.
"Stop talking as if you're meeting the queen! Your name is Thomas, right?"
"Yes, but I prefer Tom." Tom said and smiled a one dimple smile, and Harry couldn't help but find it cute. Maybe I've misjudged him… he thought to himself, now listening to the conversation Tom was having with Danny. Apparently, it was on guitars.
"So Tom, what was the point of changing schools at your last year?" Dougie asked suddenly, joining the conversation.
"No special reason… my family moved because of my father's work" Harry flinched a bit at the word 'father', but managed to cover it well by changing his seating position. It seems that he still couldn't get over it. Then Tom seamed to remember something.
"By the way, Judd, Jones, I still don't know your last names."
Danny introduced himself, then left Harry to say he's first words to Tom.
"It's Harry."
Harry watched as Tom looked him up head to toes.
"That's a nice name." Tom said absentmindedly, shot one last glance towards Harry's face, then turned back to talk to Dougie and Danny about music.
Tom played and wrote music, which meant he would be getting along with Danny pretty well. Already it seemed that Tom was becoming a part of their little group. But the way Tom was looking at him bothered Harry. There was something about it that made Harry feel funny with a weird feeling. It wasn't a bad feeling, but not quite a good one either. It was some feeling that was new to him and Harry simply couldn't get it out of his head.
"Harry, why do you wear a hat in class?" Tom asked suddenly, waking Harry from his thoughts.
He started opening his mouth and tried coming up with some excuse, but he didn't have to. The excuse came to him. The bell rang.
Harry thanked god and simply said it was a very long and that they didn't have time. The four of them stood up then, and walked back to class.