The Innocuous Academy
Forever2yours
Iggy and Fang found seats beside one another in the auditorium, as Max and Ella sat in the row directly in front of them.
Leaning back on the plush seats, he looked around curiously at the inside of their new building. It seemed grander and more lavish, but less furnished and smaller than the elementary school building they'd grown up in since. It was definitely a change. A welcome one.
Blithely ignoring Iggy's random gibberish bantering, Fang finally looked up to notice their principal and Head, Ms. Anne Dinstein, at the podium. He looked up curiously—she was certainly a wonder. Her face showed telltale signs of age with excessive wrinkles and creases, but her body betrayed the desperate attempt at youth she tried so hard to plaster on her face with cakey foundation and make-up. It was, well... really nice. She looked like the hottest 20-year-old you'd ever seen, if only you could disconnect her body from her face. They were really contradicting parallels, but everyone knew that that body had enough willpower to make up for her ugly face.
He knew inside that she was pretty old though. That actually made it all the more creepier, Fang thought distastefully as he waited for her to begin speaking. Though looking over to side, he noticed Iggy was drooling over her. He decided it wasn't his thing though—old woman should have old, creepy bodies. Not nice ones. It just didn't work the right way.
So he leaned back against the plush red velvet seats and waited for the customary orientation speeches to begin. He didn't look away though; any idiot would know how to appreciate a nice view when there was one.
First, she went through the logistics of the building, which he himself was interested in, considering it seemed so small in comparison to their last one. It made sense though, considering their last building housed all the elementary classes, from years 1 through 6, all in the same building. He idly wondered if it'd still be possible to sneak out the fire escape at night.
Dinstein explained that Years 7 and 8 buildings are arranged in similar fashions, in order to introduce students to a pre-highschool atmosphere. Seven stories high, the first floor consists only of the auditorium and entrance hall while the basement takes up the entire gymnasium. The second floor was for classrooms, and the third floor was the guy's dorms. He had heard from upperclassmen, that the hallways were filled with recreational activities like pool tables on the third floor. It seemed like improved freedom from the juvenile fashion in which the elementary school dorms were arranged.
The elementary school building had had gender-cooperative dorms on opposite sides of the school building, whereas in their Year 7 building, the dorms just seemed to be on floors. Each floor had the same layout, and had the classrooms just converted into bedroom suites.
It would make it convenient to get to class in such a small building, where everything took place in the same place.
He knew that in the high school division, Years 7, 8, and 11 had their own separate buildings completely at their disposable, with classes and dorms altogether, while Years 9 and 10 shared a building exponentially larger than the others.
Dinstein then proceeded to explain that boys dorm are only accessible by the Left Wing staircase, which girls are not allowed into. Every single staircase in the building skipped the third and sixth floors for the exception of the far right and left ones. The sixth floor was entirely the girls dorms, only accessible by the Right Wing staircases, which only the girls were allowed to venture into. The Fourth and Fifth, and Seventh floors were all for classes.
Fang paid only the slightest attention to the remainder of the speech for he knew, as did everybody else in that room, all the differences and new privileges they would get for getting older. The first, and most obvious one of all the changes was the fact that they had a more diverse recreational system.
Depending on the circumstances in which they had spent their elementary school years, different clubs and organizations and groups would elect certain members into their clubs. They met on distinct and different days after classes, as far as he knew. The clubs took place and met on designated days between Tuesday and Saturday; Sunday was their only off day from school as well as the day for school announcements and fairs, while Monday was an extended class day.
An upperclassmen had already told him that he had been chosen to be a part of the Soccer club. So any remaining clubs he'd gotten elected into would probably only meet on other days of the week. As far as he knew, the club thing was pretty cool, cause it took up so much time and space of your daily life at the academy. That was the major thing most kids his age were looking forward to in entering 7th grade.
The 299 kids in the room with him were already eager with excitement, waiting to check their schedules and receive those little envelopes of invitations or offers. He, too, he had to admit, was pretty excited even though he already knew one of the clubs he was going to get into. He was pretty sure Iggy would get into track, but there were a numerous variety of different clubs; from knitting, to modeling, to storytelling.
And to his surprise, before he knew it, the speech was over and someone else was taking attendance. He squinted at the man and wasn't sure he knew who he was.
But right after that quick observation, he started to freak out. They were calling names? In public? In front of everyone? In the auditorium?
He wouldn't need to normally worry about that before.. but now.. now was different.
Who gave them the great idea to do this? They never did it before, and of all days they had to pick this year to start taking class-wide attendance during frickin orientation?
Fang was now angry, his wide-eyes now frustratedly palpitating in disbelief. He listened as he heard the man call up names, "Annabelle Sarah S. Cyther," and they stood up, each one of them, as their names were called.
He heard one or two few new names called out from the crowd, new kids who were on their first trial-period here for a semester, but he didnt pay them much mind (unlike everyone else, who were eagerly straining their necks to catch a glance of the three or four new kids as unfamiliar names were called out). He was too busy freaking out in disbelief, trying to run through his mind how to get out of doing this.
"Ella Martinez"
"Here," she said quietly, more out of habit than anything else, as she stood up in front of him. There was no use is saying "here" out loud to the man in the front calling names from list, as he was simply a tall figure in the distance, calling names from the stage and nodding as he looked up and observed the crowd for a standing student.
And then.. then, he cringed. As for after Ella's quick, proper, and upright response, and her neat, small, proper little return to her seat.. he'd want to simply, really, die. For he was aware that right after Ella came Samuel Medeina, his best friend on the soccer team, and then came.. his name.
He growled. His eyes half-lidded, his jaw hinges clenched behind their bony-muscled edges, he glanced off to the side as he heard his name.
The man at the front had seemed to pause for a second much too long, as if reading what was on the sheet a couple of times before finally announcing it. His face was a look of interest and confusion before he read it aloud, and that made Fang scowl even more.
"His Royal Majesty... Prince Nicholas de Roumanie Michael Medforth-Mills"
Utterly. Humiliated.
Begrudgingly, he lifted up from his seat, the cushion snapping back, as he looked up to the man and the woman up on the podium stage in front of them and sent them a look to kill, before he sat right back down.
Why did they have to pick this year to do this?
Acting as if there was a thousand pounds on his slumped back, he sat back down with weight, the quiet thump reverberating around, and the murderous kill on his face still there, though now, his face was flaming in humiliating and sheer, utter, disbelief and horror as he looked away.
Max quickly and promptly turned around from her seat in front of them and her fingers curled around the back of her cushioned seat as her eyes caught onto his. Her brows furrowed in confusion.
Iggy had been sitting beside him snickering beforehand with a kid named Dylan sitting on his other side, before his head had popped and his ears had perked at the name. He had looked around eagerly for a while before finally realizing that the boy at his side was standing up and other people were staring at his direction.
And like the others, Fang knew what had been going through everybody's heads at the mention of the name: theres a prince here? What does he look like? Who is he? Where is he?
But to all of their surprises and disbelief, it was Fang who stood up, and not someone new.
Fang, who had been going to the same school as them for the past five years.
Iggy was now gaping, his jaw seeming to have literally dropped to the floor, and the fine lines on either side of his mouth stretched long and hard, beside his dropped blind eyes.
"F-Fang?" he exclaimed loudly, despite the fact that the man at the head had continued going through the list of names.
But no one seemed to be paying attention, even though the next name called had been of someone new. Everyone; at least all those who had been at the Academy for at least the past three years and knew who Fang was; was staring at him in interest and confusion.
Fang scowled and sunk further and deeper into his seat, his eyes dark and lidded and looking away.
He felt like dying.
"Uh.. So what was that about, Fang?" Max asked him hesitantly, "Or.. should I say.. Prince Sir Nicol—whatever."
"Shut up," He felt like snapping at her, for making that terrible comment. But unfortunately for him, and lucky for her, his mind wasn't working properly at that moment, too consumed by that horrifying ordeal he had just faced in that huge stupid hall.
So instead he stayed quiet, rubbing his forehead quickly and rushedly while he faced his feet, thinking agitatedly.
Ella and Iggy shuffled nervously around them; Iggy more impatient and curious looking than nervous though, but the awkward atmosphere was undeniable.
They were afraid to set him off, because he looked really on edge right now. Even Max was slightly afraid to talk to him, but they needed to find out. (If not for anything, but to satiate their curiosity). But anyway, they were his friends. They were supposed to know about things as big as that, right?
"Soo.." Iggy loudly started after the long pause that followed Max' question.
But Ella promptly covered his mouth with her hands before he could continue. Iggy was definitely not the right person to talk right now. They had kind of unanimously left it up to Max to confront this situation, only if to do it.. a bit.. tactfully. Though she wasn't exactly skilled in the expertise, Ella noted wryly, she was the closest to him, so it was more acceptable for her to be insistent.
Close friends were allowed to ask private questions because there was always that idea of being personally offended, rather than just simply prying-seeming and curious. (Which they were, of course, but still).
Kids were still streaming and shuffling and pouring out of the auditorium, past the entrance hall where the three of them were standing off to the side, facing Fang. He really wanted to get out of the limelight, and could practically feel the curious stares on his gaze as they walked past the four of them. Why did his friends pick this place to confront him about the issue? This was definitely not the place. He definitely did not want more people staring at him.
He could already glance at a couple of people waiting beyond Ella and Max and Iggy; people from his soccer team and people from his lunch table and other friends he had, as well as some stark acquaintances.
He growled quietly; he didn't plan to explain himself to a crowd.
He looked over at Max for a moment, and noticed her looking very apprehensive, but begging to ask another question
"So—" He dragged her off before she could finish, and Ella and Iggy followed.
He didn't know his away around this new building, but he didn't care. He just needed somewhere quiet, secluded.
They found themselves underneath a bench; bleachers of some sort overlooking some sort of small stadium room the size of a classroom, maybe for chess tournaments or something.
He sat down and growled. Max and Ella and Iggy seemed to have been considerably relaxed a bit more since then, as they seemed less apprehensive, so he could only guess that his face looked less uptight right now. But that didn't help.. he was still pissed off.
"My great-aunt died," he begrudgingly said darkly, his hand still on his forehead, rubbing it fiercely while growling irritatedly.
"Okaayy.. sooo.." Iggy got out before Ella clasped her hands over his mouth again. Fang threw him a murderous look before continuing.
"So now I'm 92nd," he explained exasperatedly.
"So? I thought we all already knew that you were in line for the throne," Max said.
"Yeah, but they've never announced my name in front of the whole entire school before!"
"Oh."
There was an awkward silence as Max stared at him blankly, in all his agitated, fiercely irritated glory. She didn't seem to care and now her curiosity seemed to have been completely satiated. He could practically see the gears in her head turning, asking herself 'why are we still here now?' which, for some reason, irritated him even further, cause now her attention was distracted from him as she looked around the room speculatively.
"They said 'de romanie' though. Of Romania. Which throne are you talking about?" Ella then decided to ask thoughtfully.
Fang looked up in surprise, the tension loosening from his face as he thanked the gods for some semblence of sanity here. At least someone was asking non-stupid-ridiculous questions.
"92nd for the british throne, technically I'm in 3rd for the romanian one," he replied subtly. It was just something that he knew, but never thought of. At that, Iggy freaked.
"WHAT?" he exclaimed loudly, his hand landing on his hair, "You're third in line to be a KING?"
Fang's brow twitched agitatedly. He wondered how the hell Ella could be with this bafoomass.
"No," he bit, "its a freaking defunct throne, idiot."
Iggy seemed to show no intention to stop overenthusiastically celebrating joyously though, even despite knowing the information from beforehand. (Iggy had a knack for knowing really random things and remembering them, so Fang did not doubt the slightest bit that Iggy had already known everything he had just said).
"All it means is that my family has a lot of money in theory, at least on my mom's side," he explained to them, although he was pretty sure they knew it in the first place. "And they need to protect it in the case that 50 people spontaneously drop dead."
Though they all knew he came from british royalty, he supposed the precise thing that was irritating right now was this situation right here; because they had never actually heard his title. Neither had he, for that matter, other than two or three special times in his life. It made things sound a lot more complex than they really were.
To him, it made no difference. His dad was a regular guy, and his mom was a regular woman, except for the fact they lived an ocean apart occasionally, and his mom had to go do stuff every now and then. Sometimes he went too, to visit like, visit a hospital or sick charity.
Hearing his title was a completely different thing though. After the death of his great-aunt, he actually got a title. Before it had always been that dreadful, horrible, confounding litany of a boring name Nicholas de Roumanie Michael Medforth-Mills and although 'prince' had always been added in front when he was at home in front of the servants and maids, it had legally become an official signature of his name during this summer and the death of his aunt.
It didn't usually matter, but now they had announced it in front of the whole school. Joy.
He wasn't expecting special favors, but the whole special attention would really kill him, especially cause he didn't really deserve it.
It just turned out that he was 92nd in line for the british throne..
He thought he'd need to try desperately to explain this, but as he was about to start, he suddenly realized there was no need, because Max had already assumed it on her own and didn't care. She knew, of course, what his home life was like, and was now fine with just knowing that nothing had dramatically just changed.
Ella appraised him approvingly, but besides that, just put her finger and thumb to her chin and seemed to be go into thinking mode.
Iggy, on the other hand, had just started a song about how I'm friends with a pri-ince, I'm friends with pri-ince, he's gonna get me chocolate and riches and we're gonna have parties in his palace and I'm friends with a—
"Shut UP," Fang finally snapped, sick and tired of the annoying song, though it had only gone on for thirty seconds. This kid seriously had issues. He knew he did it just to annoy him, cause he knew very well that Iggy, being the latent genius he was, was well aware that his princely title was just inherited tradition and not novelty.
He let out a deep sigh and closed his eyes. He heard Ella markedly note and tell Max that he was simply a descendant of Queen Victoria, who had at least 9,000 descendants, and he just happened to have the right luck to fall in the right place in the tree diagram to inherit the title.
He let a good breath as he noticed how eloquently Ella had explained. No, he wasn't special, just lucky. Or unlucky, he wryly noted, because although he filled the same spot of blood as his cousins, he just happened to have that princely title. It was very unlucky.
But anyway, he got up with another deep breath and decided to usher them to the cafeteria.
He was hungry afterall. And in the end, he decided Ella would definitely take care of all of any rumours spreading around stupidly in his wake. They were misplaced afterall.
Max stared after him curiously, and he looked away, somehow feeling his cheeks flush underneath the well known knowledge of her pupils on him.
Tomorrow, would be the first day of classes. He couldn't wait to check his mail box to find out his clubs.
A/N: From the reviews I got last time, I realized that my first chapter was utterly misleading to my readers. So I'd like to make a disclaimer: Contrary to whatever wholesomeness I may have alluded to in these two chapters, this story is definately not a wholesome one. I made this chapter cause I thought I'd need to warn you guys in advance, to all those who have already subscribed to it and are thinking its an innocent story. Its definitely not. Its graphic, its disgusting, and its mature. Or at least, its going to be. Starting exactly from the next chapter. My original CH. 2 was really.. rated.. really high. I'll give you a clue, it has to do with these "clubs" I've mentioned.
But anyway. Review if you want to keep reading :)
Oh and also. Nicholas Micheal de Romanie Medforth-Mills is a real person, and is actually in line for the Romanian and British thrones, and none of what I wrote up there was untrue on his part. 3rd for the defunct throne of Romania, and 92nd for the british throne of Queen Elizabeth's. :)
Also, as for all those suggestions to up their ages. Okay, speaking from experiance, you guys have seriously forgotten how perverted 13-year olds can be. Their pervy-ness is 10x worse because they're not mature but know everything. Also, I need them to be 13 and in that phase in their lives for my story. Penny for your thoughts?