Thank you to the people who reviewed and followed this fic! It made me so happy to know that you guys liked the first chapter!
Second impressions meant just as much as first impressions, he tells himself. His first impression hadn't been very good yesterday, but compared to Alm's, it made him look good, at least.
The second day, he's a bit more used to the general hustle and bustle of Zofia Central Secondary School. The higher grades are so intimidating, and as he passes the couple who is making out before first period on the second day, no less, he averts his eyes and scurries past the area meekly.
Before long, and before he has to talk to anyone, perish the thought, he is met with the now-familiar door for his first period class, music.
Early is better than late, he knows, he was early yesterday, and he's early today. He's among the first to arrive; if he recalls correctly, the boy who'd introduced himself as Boey is sitting quietly, flipping the pages of a thin book.
Boey, Alm...uncommon names, but he can't really say anything - his own name is just as strange, and misspelled, all the damn time.
He locates himself in the same spot as before, the second seat to the end. He'd only done that originally so that no one would sit next to him on either side, but his plan had proved unsuccessful. He knew no one in this class, not after Tobin and Gray'd told him they had last period music.
Then Alm had come. The green hair, the name...everything about him had seemed familiar, the way he rushed into the class, or admitted his out-of-place instrument nonchalantly.
He just couldn't place where.
Maybe Tobin or Gray or Faye would know, if they saw him.
oOo
He blows past the front doors, hurriedly closing them behind him. He jumps down the four stairs and takes off running. If he goes at his top speed, he can make it in seven minutes, tops. Waking up late yesterday did not help his case, adjusting to school.
Thankfully, the roads seem to be calm and the intersections aren't busy, so he's able to make it in about five. Students are still walking, so he knows he's safe. He slows down, panting heavily, and merges into the flow. All those years of playing football have finally paid off…
The sight he is met with inside the school is new to him, as he was late yesterday. It's just so crowded...so crowded. But there's time to marvel later.
He ducks and weaves his way through the mass, another thing football's come in handy for. It's a good thing his class is relatively close. It'd probably be in his best interests to make a better entrance today.
He arrives just as the first bell rings (well, hopefully it's the first bell). The class is about half-full, based on what he saw yesterday.
He slides his bag off his shoulders to slide into the last seat. The boy with endearingly messy blonde hair who was there yesterday is there again, staring at something on his phone.
He attempts to recall the events of yesterday, more specifically, the introduction of everyone.
"Hey, Kliff, was it?" If he gets it wrong, he's probably gonna die of embarrassment.
The blonde looks up with something more than surprise, mouth a perfect little O. It disappears quickly and he reverts to the same bored-like expression he'd had all period yesterday. His phone turns off and he replies, "Yeah. Alm, right?"
"That's my name!" Alm offers a smile and plops down onto the seat in relief. "Nice to meet you." He extends a hand out of courtesy, like his elementary school taught him to.
Kliff flinches, and he's worried he'll be left hanging, but his hand is grasped with a surprisingly strong, small hand and shaken once, before letting go.
"Nice to meet you too," the boy mumbles, pocketing his phone.
Alm continues with his inquiries. "You play clarinet, right?"
"Yeah."
He notices he doesn't get an ask back, but whether that's from rudeness or that Kliff is sure of the answer, he doesn't know. Alm decides to give him the benefit of the doubt; he doesn't know Kliff all that well anyways.
"So what's your schedule like?" Again, he's the one initiating all the questions. It would probably be all quiet now if it weren't for him.
"Music, language, lunch, geography, gym," he rattles off easily, counting them on his fingers.
"Oh hey, we have four periods together!" Alm exclaims excitedly. His last period is actually math, which he's already dreading again.
Kliff gives him a deadpan glance. "Yeah, you said that in geography yesterday while Mr. Sagesse was talking."
He frowns. "I did?" The first day was honestly a blur for him - the high of starting a new chapter in his life must have gotten to him.
"Yeah, you did. Sagesse yelled at you, remember?"
The image of an old man with a long beard giving him stern words pops up in his memory. "Right, right, that happened. Well," he says matter-of-factly, "we should be friends then! 'Cause we have almost all our classes together and all."
"Oh! Um, sure!"
Kliff nods, staring downwards, into his lap. Alm thinks he can see the trace of a smile on Kliff's soft facial features, and he's satisfied.
Class starts without a hitch, with the rest of the students filing in gradually. Today's all about getting to know the course, as Mr. Equess explains.
"What is it with the hair in this class? Do you guys dye it?"
And, apparently, interrogations.
He can see the question's mostly being directed to him, rather than the girl opposite of him - Cecilia? As he glances up to answer the question, he unintentionally locks eyes with her and they share a glance for a bit too long before he breaks it and brings his gaze up rightfully to the teacher.
"Actually, it's natural, I inherited it from my grandfather," he explains, self-consciously bringing up a hand to touch his bangs. He misses the familiar weight of the headband he wears for sports and occasionally playing his instrument, but that would have to do later.
When that's cleared up, Mr. Equess goes on to lay out the plan for the year, including the fact that they won't be playing any actual instruments until the second or third week, as he likes to get the theory and history over with first. There is a collective groan from the class at that, but he only smiles knowingly, as he's probably done this many times before.
At about the midpoint of the class, when their teacher is going over the mandatory (boring) classroom expectations and procedures, Alm feels a tap on the shoulder. He turns around and leans to the side so Kliff can whisper in his ear.
"How many years have you been playing the flute?"
Kliff's expression is one of complete boredom, and the question is peculiar, coming from him, so Alm can only suppose it's out of making small talk. Still, he's happy at being the recipient of initiation, finally, rather than the other way around.
"Two," he whispers back, holding up the amount of fingers. "How about you?"
"Four," and the appropriate number is displayed on his hands, except in multiples of two. "I was in a split back then, so -"
"Alm."
The two boys snap to attention, although it was only Alm's name called. Mr. Equess is looking at him, a stern expression on his face. "I'd like it if you paid attention so that you'd know not to speak while I'm speaking."
"Yes, sir," he squeaks. Kliff covers up his snort of amusement through a poorly disguised cough. Small laughs are heard around the room.
The general attention shifts back to the front, along with Alm's, but not before he hears Kliff's whispered challenge.
"Let's see if you can get all the teachers to yell at you within the first week," Kliff says with a teasing smile.
Alm nods with an equally stupid grin, then focuses on the front.
This was his specialty, talking to people and making friends. It was good to see that his natural charm was still in effect.
oOo
"Have a good rest of the day."
With their teacher's ever-punctual parting words, the bell rings, and the students move to pack up and hurry to their next class. Older students already push the door open to await the second bell. As she walks past the rabble swiftly, she catches snippets of conversation here and there - "Yeah, I told Python to finish the writeup but he didn't, he's actually a snake" - "Yeah, that sounds like him" - not to mention the excessively indulgent hair colours, already in her class there was turquoise-green and bright red, and now there's another burgundy red, and a jade green, even a dark aquamarine that is exclaiming indignantly, "It's not my fault I always snake you guys!" - it's all too much for her, perhaps she'll enjoy language class a bit more. She passes the boy in her class with the turquoise-green hair, Olme or something, the only one who has caught her lofty eye so far - he's conversing with scruffy-looking boy with messy hair and disheveled clothes, does he even know how to take care of himself!?
The hallways are a mess as usual; she's learned how to weave in and out sideways as not to touch anyone. Her next classroom is just a hop, skip and jump away, thankfully. A shorter trip means less risk of having to interact with the people.
As with her first class, she's one of the first in the door, so she has first pick of the seating. She chooses the same spot as the day before, in the center row, right at the front. Hopefully no one will choose to sit beside her, as it's in such close proximity to the front, clearly an undesirable position.
Her logic is proved correct when the teacher walks in, the last body in the room, and the seat to her right is still blissfully unoccupied. She sighs in relief and dumps her bag into the chair.
"Alright! We're starting!" The teacher has to yell, almost, to make herself heard over the ruckus of conversations. It gradually quiets down to a low murmur, which is quickly shut down by a fast glare from the teacher.
"Thank you. Now, to start off the class, I'm gonna be assigning you all seats. Now, before you all kill yourselves over this -" she stops to let the class express its disapproval of the decision. She doesn't participate in this - she's much too refined to revert to such uncouth methods. As long as she's alone or with someone who can hold their own in her presence, then she'll live.
"It'll only be for a short while, but I'll be changing your seating plans quite often. By the end of this course, you'll have gotten to know everyone very well!"
She sighs, keeping her face impassive, as she was trained to do. She'll only have to spend half a year with the common students - thank goodness for semester-divided schools, she reflects. She closes her eyes and sends a quick prayer to Mila that she'll be paired with someone of her caliber.
"Claire…"
She cocks her head like an eagle to the source of her name - her teacher is patting down on a desk and reading from her seating plan, presumably. She notices her's is the first called, and it's on the side next to the window, at the front. She's on the inside of the pair, snugly fit against the wall.
She could have had it worse, she supposes, as she picks up her bag to move about two metres. At least she'll have a wall to lean on and a window to stare out of.
"Alm."
A wave of rare excitement flares up in her - could this be the very same Alm in her music class?
A body drops into the chair to her right, one with windswept green hair and questioning eyes, confirming her guess.
As their teacher continues to make rounds, she decides to introduce herself. First impressions are everything, she knows.
"Greetings. My name is Claire. It's a delight to make your acquaintance." She holds out a hand, and if past experience spoke the truth, it would be taken reluctantly and with surprise. Not many people were of her higher-order upbringing.
To her utmost surprise, her hand is taken without hesitation and shaken once, twice, firmly. His hand is not sweaty (thank the gods), and rather rough but smooth in areas (she attributes this to calluses).
"Hey, I'm Alm! Nice to meet you too." He smiles at the end of their little exchange, and she finds herself unusually compelled to smile back.
This is just a commoner, she tells herself. Don't get too ahead of yourself.
"Hey! Alm!"
She hears the scraping of a chair coming from directly behind her. Dreading what she'll see, she turns around to catch sight of the same scruffy-looking boy she observed in the music room.
"Kliff!" Alm's smile widens, becoming more familiar. "What a stroke of luck!"
She notices Kliff keeps his eyes downcast, almost as if he's unable to meet Alm's stare.
Rude.
"Yeah, well...I'm not the only force at play here."
She turns back to the front, determined not to be noticed and forced into polite conversation. Alm, however, has different ideas.
She flinches at his touch. He lays a gentle hand on her shoulder, heating up at contact. "Claire, this is Kliff. Kliff, this is Claire."
She stiffly turns and dips her head slightly in acknowledgement. "It's good to meet you."
"Hello," he murmurs, but it seems it's more out of obligation than anything else.
Suddenly, a new boy slips into the chair next to Kliff, behind Alm this time. He looks dirty, in Claire's humble opinion, but that might just be because of the dirty-blonde hair and grimy headband. All in all, someone else she's going to have to interact with against her will.
"Kliff! Who're these people?"
To make it worse, his very voice is annoying and he's wearing a perpetual smirk that she can just tell is going to be the death of her.
"Um. Actually, this is Alm. Alm, this is my friend, Gray."
She determinedly keeps her head forward and a little lowered. It should give off the impression that she's closed off and doesn't want to talk -
"And who would Miss Blonde Beauty be?"
She draws in a breath. Really, what else did she expect?
Heads would definitely be rolling before the year was over.
These first few chapters I'm just trying to flesh out some character way more than anything else, which is why there's not much action ;) I'll probably get more into the story and really get it going in the next few chapters!