Chapter II- Brothers in Class
When Henry and Mark had sat down in their first class of the day, it seemed like everybody in the room turned to look; teammates to say what's up, prospective girlfriends to say hi in their own way. Henry ignored most of them as he always did, but once he sat down and class began sizing them up- checking them out- was about all he did. The blonde understood this was one of his brother's favourite subjects, but this just wasn't really his thing. Only in the more artistic classes- English, French and Ceramics- did Henry actually feel any real interest. Everywhere else he just was going through the motions, more or less- though always with an A at the end.
Mark, on the other hand, was in both Chemistry and AP Calculus for this year; the cold, absolute emphasis on facts and precision fascinated Mark. He also knew that through mathematics mankind had created artillery and nuclear weapons; through science- chemistry in particular- you had conventional explosives, gunpowder, and poison gas. The possibilities were endless… if you knew what you were doing. And Mark did. This morning, however, Mark couldn't quite seem to keep his eyes on the board. They kept drifting down to the rounded hips and shapely, slender legs of Amy Philips, the redhead cheerleader in the first row. She was pretty shy, as far as cheerleaders went; normally they were some of the most outgoing girls in the school and didn't hesitate in trying to get Mark or Henry to notice them. Amy was different. Mark knew she liked him- he could see that in the quick glances and shy smiles she gave him now and then- but she wasn't as aggressive about showing it.
"Dude," Henry said quietly, "Who you thinkin' about for this year?"
"I think you mean this semester," Mark said, smirking; he was amused at the notion that he'd even bother sticking with one girlfriend for a whole school year, and pleased at how his brother had again seemingly read his mind. They did that a lot these days. Sometimes words didn't even seem necessary.
"Well," Henry said , "How about it? Who you thinkin' of?"
As carefully as he could without Mr. Wallace- in his goddamn sweater vest, for crying out loud- noticing, Mark pointed at Amy Philips up in the front row. Her faded blue jeans hugged her bottom half closely, and she had one of those jean-jackets hung over the back of her chair. She wore a white ABERCROMBIE shirt today, and her red hair flowed beautifully over her shoulders and back. Even from the back of the classroom, with her sitting down and one of the best views of her concealed, Mark could tell Amy had a great ass. She was nice, popular if rather quiet around boys like Mark, and had a body that was definitely up to the standard. "Her," Mark said. "Amy Philips."
Henry sized her up for a moment and then nodded; by now both teens had completely forgotten what Mr. Wallace was talking about on the board or even what class they were in. The blonde abruptly considered going for Amy himself- but then Mark had already said she was in his sights. He couldn't steal a girl from his brother. So Henry leaned back in his seat a little, nodding in approval. "Good choice, Mark."
The auburn-haired teen grinned. "I have very good taste."
Lowering his voice to a conspirator's whisper, Henry looked at his brother with a sly smile on his face. "Would you let her lick your b-"
"Mr. Evans!"
Both the auburn and blonde-haired teen looked up then.
"Yes?"
"Yes?"
They did this every time Mr. Wallace or any other teacher called one of them "Mr. Evans", and for a rather straightforward, by-the-book teacher like Wallace it invariably succeeded in driving him crazy. His face was tense with disapproval, and he went on, "Mark. Henry. I know you boys probably are busy planning our win for Homecoming"- grins from both brothers at that- "but we still have work to do here, in class." Half-turning to point to the problem being illustrated on the board- a problem that was close to being finished but would pose a considerable threat to someone who wasn't paying attention- Mr. Wallace said, "Would one of you boys care to tell us what the answer is here, since you have such a good handle on Calculus you find your minds wandering elsewhere?"
Henry started to scowl, displeased that anyone would disrupt a conversation he was having with his brother. Maybe Mr. Wallace's 1993 LeSabre needed some air let out of its tires. Maybe his next pay raise needed a bit of deferment. Maybe-
The auburn-haired teen beside him gently elbowed his brother, seeing the slight, almost undetectable narrowing of Henry's eyes and the anger that it indicated was coming. Mark gave a slight, almost imperceptible shake of his head, then looked up at Mr. Wallace, who along with the class was now waiting patiently.
After a few moments of silent contemplation, Mark nodded. "It's forty-two, sir. Same as the answer to life, the universe, and everything."
That brought a laugh from Henry and John, who had read the book Mark was referring too; the rest of the class chuckled mostly because the three popular boys were- and because more than a few had picked up on the mildly bored tone Mark had used.
Mr. Wallace's face flushed a little, but he nodded in grudging respect- no other students of his could so easily provide a correct answer at the drop of a hat- and carried on with the class. He couldn't understand how such smart, promising boys were so terribly arrogant- or why Decauter and the rest of the department heads couldn't seem to see it. The whole damn school had gone crazy over those boys after that Varsity hockey win freshman year, and they knew it.
Returning to their conversation, Mark smiled a little- both at his recent success and at Henry's wiseass question. "Yes," Mark said. "I think I would."
"Thing is," Henry said, smirking again, "Does she want to?"
"Dude, everybody wants to."
"Except me. I don't think I would."
Mark laughed a little, careful to keep his voice down. "Maybe not," he shrugged, "But you know who does where you're concerned?"
The blonde put on a look of mock fascination. "Who, Mark? Tell me!"
"Well," Mark said, dropping his voice to a whisper, "I hear Lisa Doyle is just dying for a chance."
Henry thought about that. Lisa Doyle was one of the most popular girls in the senior class, despite being quite a mean, two-faced bitch whenever she happened to feel like it. She wasn't on the cheerleading squad, and about all she did athletically was play on the girls' lacrosse team or something. It wasn't like Henry gave a shit. But she'd been crushing on Henry since freshman year, and Henry's apparent inability to notice her was almost visibly driving her to madness. She had the looks- anyone could tell you she did- and Lisa was almost as popular, and as mean, as Henry was.
Freshman girls lived in mortal terror of her scathing gaze- and already some of this year's 9th grade girls were learning not to look too long at Henry Evans while Lisa Doyle was in the same room. Henry knew about all this, and for years had just ignored her on purpose, dating other girls and giving his affections to them. It drove Lisa to frustration, and Henry enjoyed knowing that immensely. It was funny for him to think of Lisa Doyle, the blonde beauty, coughing up her lunch to keep her slender, attractive figure just where she had it… all for Henry, who didn't seem to know she was there. Oh, he'd talk to her if she said hi to him, and would sometimes smile or something similar if he could tell Lisa was flirting with him. But he never asked her out. For three long years he hadn't.
Maybe Mark was right, though. Maybe the time had come to let Lisa Doyle know he could see her at last. She'd definitely be falling over herself to keep him once she realised she had him. Henry smiled at the thought; he'd get laid in a month for sure.
"Maybe I'll let her sometime," Henry said, nodding. "If she wants to."
Mark almost broke up laughing. "Oh, yeah, dude. She wants to."
When the bell rang and they got up to head to their next class, Mark gave Amy Philips a warm smile as she stood up and turned his way; she smiled back in a way he liked a lot.
Mark turned to leave, and as he and Henry exited the classroom a certain slender blonde was waiting outside the classroom. "Hey, Henry," she said, and Henry's head turned.
"Hey, Lisa," he said, meeting her gaze and finally returning her warm, flirtatious smile. "What's up?"
"Well, that depends, Henry," she said suggestively. Mark wanted to break up laughing right there in the hallway. The way Lisa flirted with Henry was getting truly outrageous. "Going to the gym later?"
"Of course," Henry said as the three of them walked, his smile almost a smirk. He was enjoying this.
"How much can you bench-press now?" she asked.
"Plenty," the blonde boy replied. "You wanna see if I can bench-press you sometime?"
"That'd be nice," Lisa said with a smile. "I bet you could lift a lot more than I weigh, though. See you later, Henry." And with that she was gone, headed off to her own class.
Henry looked after her for a moment, watching the rolling of her shapely, attractive hips. She was good-looking enough for him, all right.
"Told you," Mark said, smirking as he stood next to his brother. "She's asking you for the chance to do it. All you gotta do is let her know when to start."
Henry smiled. "Good." That was just the way he wanted it.
At 11:30 morning classes ended, and once again accompanied by a cluster of teammates and hangers-on, Henry and Mark made their way to lunch. It was a high time of the day for them; good time to take inventory on things. Only the most privileged of guys- or girls- got to sit at the same table as Henry and Mark; anyone not a part of their cluster of friends knew better than to even try it. Anthony Summers with his gelled-up black hair and John LaFleur with his shiny, dyed-blonde were the most honoured guests at the table, able to speak to either of the brothers and regularly expect an acknowledgement.
Jason Morgan, the big quarterback on the Varsity football team with his $200, casually wild haircut was a close third, and he was very much the strong, good-looking and wealthy "winner" type that Henry and Mark Evans so constantly associated themselves with. You had to be head and shoulders above everybody else for the brothers to even notice you; if a girl you needed to be attractive, enough so that you stood out from everyone else. The guys needed to work out regularly, be on one or more sports teams, and have proven history with girls- or, if lacking on that front, you had to make up for it with athletic talent. You had to stand out- be the elite- in some way.
The Evans brothers didn't talk to mediocrities or losers. They had a real distaste for cheap, dirty cars or secondhand clothes, and for anything or anyone that wasn't the best. Boys who were poor as well as shy endured some of the harshest mockeries Henry, Mark and their teammates could give out. And the worst part of it was that they moved around, seeming to be capable of ignoring you for a whole month and then making life pure Hell for a week that more than made up for the past four. They kept you living in fear, the big, popular guys on the football and hockey teams- it was like the Chinese water torture. You never knew when the next drop would come.
Paul Hendricks, a burly hockey player with a blonde crew cut and little to say most of the time, was one of the last guys to arrive at the table for lunch. "I was talkin' to Coach Buckner," Paul said when Anthony asked where he'd been- often, when Henry or Mark couldn't be bothered to ask a question (they talked mostly with each other) Anthony or John would ask it for them. The Evans brothers were always listening. Fucking always. It was scary sometimes; they seemed to be able to hear damn near every conversation around them at the table- they sat across from each other in the middle- and would sometimes break in with a question or comment, like they'd been paying attention the whole time.
When Amy Philips, the fair redhead with those beautiful green eyes, entered the cafeteria with Lisa Doyle, Mark knew this was a chance he couldn't miss. It was Friday during the first week of school. He and Henry had been single since the start of the month, and it was the 24th now. That was almost a damn month. Time to make a move.
"Tony," Mark said, casually interrupting something the dark-haired boy had been saying to John LaFleur, "Tell Amy and Lisa they can sit with us if they want."
Anthony nodded. "Sure thing, Mark," and hopped up from the table, gracefully moving out to meet the two girls as they entered the cafeteria. Neither of the Evans brothers could hear what Anthony was saying, but he seemed to be putting the "suave gentleman" act on pretty hard. He was good at it, too, because the girls smiled, nodded, and followed him when he returned to the table. Coming back ahead of them, Anthony flashed the Evans brothers a smile, raising his eyebrows suggestively. See what I did? Anthony's eyes seemed to say, and Mark just laughed and waved him back to his seat. Anthony was so damn theatrical.
He was more showy than John, and less arrogant than Jason- which was one of the things Mark and Henry liked about the star quarterback. He was tall, handsome, extremely fit and equally arrogant- very used to getting his own way. In a sense he was just like Henry and Mark- a perfect match for them. You sometimes got a sense that had it not been for the Evans brothers, Jason would instead have been the big "jock king" of Chamberlain High. He wasn't stupid, which meant he probably knew it, too- and knew to keep that to himself. Henry and Mark were both karate black-belts, and quick to prove their muscles weren't just for show if somebody pissed them off.
Jason was smart, though; he was rich and knew plenty of college students around Portland, able to help set up parties on the fairly-regular basis Henry and Mark demanded them. He liked shoving nerds and geeks around in the halls, was a big part of making sure the Varsity football team won the overwhelming majority of their games every season- Jason was a valuable guy. The Evans brothers rewarded him accordingly by making him a part of their circle. Henry's favourite part about Jason was how while he stuck with a chosen girlfriend longer than the brothers did, Jason was very callous- a stark contrast to the adept charmer he was- and really just wanted the material things. Like Henry and Mark. But he wasn't as loyal as Anthony or John, nor as grateful to be on a legendary winning team like Paul was. And unlike Jason, Mark or Henry could make the playboy wop roll over and fetch the damn newspaper any day of the week. That was something Anthony was good for.
"Hey, guys," Amy said, a little shyly, and Lisa flashed Henry a warm smile. "Hey, Henry," she said.
"Amy! Lisa!" Mark said, making sure he looked pleased to see them- which, to be fair, he was. "Come on, guys," he said, motioning around him briefly, "Make 'em some room." Accordingly a space was cleared on either side of the table, so Lisa and Amy could sit down across from the boys who now had eyes on them. More than a few admiring glances had come their way since the two girls had come into the cafeteria, but now they were much more cautiously done; everyone knew that neither Mark nor Henry took well to seeing someone eying a girl they liked. The Evans brothers had first pick at everything.
Amy and Lisa joined a few other girls sitting at the table, mostly cheerleaders; Jason, John, Anthony and Paul were all great enthusiasts of cheerleader girlfriends. It seemed like no matter where you went, any given high school always had some of its very best-looking girls as cheerleaders. Glancing briefly around her at the senior cheerleaders- almost all of the cheerleaders in her class were here, as a matter of fact- Lisa felt a pang of regret over not joining the cheerleading squad. Those were the girls who got to wear those flashy outfits, show off their beautiful, shapely legs and flirt shamelessly with the boys on the team at every game. It was a perfect way to get the attention of some of the most popular boys at the school. Even as Lisa started striking up a conversation with Henry, she noticed Amy already being engaged in one by Mark- and the auburn-haired teen looked very interested indeed. Lisa didn't have to try real hard to guess where that conversation might be going- or would certainly go soon.
The blonde girl recalled how almost all of the girls at Chamberlain that Henry had dated were cheerleaders- popular, stunningly attractive girls who had been in the perfect position to get Henry's attention. Lisa had gone through some rough times with those of them that were friends with her- invariably, as soon as a girl became Henry's latest girlfriend, Lisa had a new name against which she wanted to commit murder. It made her nearly seethe with furious envy when she listened to their breathless tales of how kind Henry was, how romantic- and when the relationship had progressed that far, how… amazing… he was at certain things. Or really, everything. How great he looked with his shirt off- and how heart-stopping it was when you finally got to see the muscular blonde with everything off. It made Lisa want to kill somebody, having to listen to all that. It would be worth strangling one of those girls with her bare hands, if only the judge would let Lisa go out with Henry Evans first.
Lisa was one of the most sought-after girls in the school- and having had her 'first' in the eighth grade, she could brag of a little more experience than some of the high-and-mighty "I'm not doing It until I get married" girls who'd dared call themselves a worthy girlfriend for Henry over the years. Lisa was no "slut", but she'd been with a couple boys- including Jason Morgan at a party, though she hoped Henry hadn't heard about that- and knew experience with It was, like with everything else, always the best teacher. Lisa could give Henry the thrill of his life, be the best girlfriend he'd ever had. All she needed was the chance to prove it.
"So, Lisa," Henry said, breaking the attractive blonde out of her reverie, "Have a good summer?"
"Oh, yeah," Lisa nodded, smiling in affirmation. "My family flew down to Florida for a couple weeks- I got a great tan."
"Wish I could've been there for that," Henry said as he picked up a corn dog nugget, and Lisa's heart about melted. She'd have sunbathed naked if she'd known Henry was watching. This boy was just gorgeous. That shiny blonde hair- natural, not dyed and almost yellow like John LaFleur's- those smooth, iron-hard muscles that flowed like water under his shirt, that smooth, fairytale-prince face with those icy-blue eyes… Henry was like a boy Lisa had once created in her dreams. He was handsome, kind, smart, strong- just like those princes in the fairytales Lisa had read as a little girl. Henry was like them- only better. Because those princes were confined to the pages of books. Henry was not confined in such a way; he was all real.
"Me, too," Lisa added, and the smile Henry gave at that made Lisa thankful she was sitting down. Her knees turned to water at that warm, charming smile.
"You wanna catch dinner sometime?" Lisa asked, the words out of her mouth before she could call them back.
"I'd need your number for that," Henry said, matter-of-factly. "Wouldn't I?"
"Sure would," Lisa nodded.
"Well," Henry said, looking at Lisa and lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. "How about I bring the Beast by your place tonight? I'm gonna work out with Anthony and the guys for a while, but I'll come get you. Anyplace you wanna go?"
"My dad knows this guy at TGI Fridays," Lisa said. "We could get a great deal over there."
"Thank God It's Friday, then," Henry said with a smile. Lisa smiled too. As she got up to get her tray- which was really just for appearances anyway, since Lisa almost always coughed up her lunch to keep from fearing the scale more than she already did- the slender blonde girl couldn't help adding, "Make sure you can be out a while," she said in a flirtatious voice, "In case we decide to… stay out late."
As Lisa moved away, she thought she heard one of the guys- John LaFleur, maybe- exchange a high-five with Henry.
Thank God it's Friday, indeed. For the rest of the day Lisa would be on a cloud, spaced-out in class and with a dreamy look on her face. She barely heard when her English teacher tried getting her to pay attention by asking her something about which of Shakespeare's plays was most overlooked as one of his greats, and it took a quick save by Amy Philips- a girl Lisa treated well, not least for never trying to steal Henry from her- to keep Lisa from saying something very rude in reply to Mr. Eastrise. She didn't give a damn about Shakespeare most any day of the week, least of all today.
She'd gotten a date with Henry Evans after waiting for three years. She just hoped Henry would be as eager to head for first base as she was. Henry was known to be a very take-charge kind of boy in his relationships. He didn't like it when a girlfriend tried to tell him what to do, and had a low tolerance for anyone- male or female- who attempted to argue with him. Henry just liked being the one in charge- past girlfriends all said it was because he liked being the "white knight", a noble boy who took care of everything and let the girl just sit back and enjoy the benefits of being his girl. Lisa thought that sounded just fine- and it was just what she planned to do.
Mark's first class for the afternoon, starting at 12:40 and going until 1:35, was AP Chemistry with Ms. Julie Michaels. It was one of the only classes Mark didn't share with his brother Henry, who was taking Ceramics with Mrs. Meier instead. He was a big fan of the arts, Henry- the English and Art Department heads both regarded Henry as one of the best they'd ever seen. It was one of the only times Mark truly saw his brother calm, at peace- and not secretly wishing he could pummel into oblivion the losers and weaklings he was almost constantly surrounded with. For whatever reason, the study of fine arts and literature brought Henry peace- almost as much, in fact, as being with his brother. The bond they shared was closer than any other siblings at the school, hands down. No other siblings they'd ever met understood each other as well as Mark and Henry did.
But Henry was adamant about Ceramics, just as much as Mark couldn't say no to Chemistry- so they headed off to their separate classes, Mark discussing a party for one of the coming weekends with Anthony and John before congratulating Henry on his date. The blonde just shrugged, smirking. "That was really too easy," he said, and he meant it. But Henry was still visibly pleased- the more he could get Lisa to beg like a puppy, the easier everything would be.
Chemistry was a fascinating class for Mark. He loved the vast possibilities it presented to someone who knew what all the proper terms and measurements meant, even with simple household materials. He enjoyed its connections with math classes, something Mark also did very well- and secretly, Mark harbored a deep love for how chemistry had given the world poison gas. To hell with mustard gas, that infamous substance that caused such great suffering. Mark normally would have applauded such a weapon, and certainly bore no grudge to the Germans for coming up with it. They'd seen it as a way of gaining the edge on the battlefield, and used it. Henry approved of that as well- you were an idiot if you didn't use everything you had in a fight.
But what Mark truly adored- what he really hoped chemistry would one day teach him how to make- was CAS number 107-44-8. Sarin. An odorless, colourless organophosphorous compound that was feared worldwide as the deadliest poison gas in history. Adolf Hitler's Third Reich had created it- something that made Mark yearn for a chance to have served as a scientist in that man's Germany. Sarin could not be seen or smelled- and without a fully-sealed suit to cover every inch of your skin and filter the air you breathed, you'd be dead in thirty seconds. Looking through a book on the history of chemical warfare in the local library, Mark had read a line stating that Sarin was 500 times more lethal than cyanide. Five hundred times. It was awesome to even contemplate.
Mark shook his head after a moment, sitting up at his desk and paying closer attention to what Ms. Michaels was saying. They were only in the first week of class, but already Mark could tell she really knew her stuff.
She had replaced Harold Messerschmitt- indeed a relative of the famed German aircraft designer- who had been Chamberlain High's Science Department head for more than ten years. Messerschmitt had clashed with Principal Decauter over the future of the school, though, and the rising emphasis on athletics- the whole damn school seemed to have gone nuts over sports of every kind since Henry and Mark Evans had shown up. Quietly cursing the boys who were making Chamberlain a household name across the State of Maine but at the cost of a true respect for academics, Harold Messerschmitt had taken his retirement at last at the end of the Mark and Henry's junior year. Julie Michaels, just done with obtaining her Master's Degree in Secondary Education at The Citadel Graduate College in Charleston, South Carolina the previous year, had been by far the most qualified candidate out of those considered- she came highly recommended from her professors at the graduate college, and had earned one of the highest GPA's in her class.
The auburn-haired teen didn't know what he liked better. How well the tall, shapely young blonde teacher knew her subject and how effectively she taught it- Mark had been hanging on just about every word she said in class this week- or how pretty she looked. No doubt about it. She was damned attractive- at not even thirty years old, she could have easily been mistaken for an undergraduate on any college campus in the country.
Normally, with a teacher who was anywhere near Mark or Henry's age, the brothers would play a game in class much like the one they did with girls their own age. Both boys knew that it just drove the girls who could see them crazy when they leaned back and stretched, or found most any excuse at all to casually flex their muscles.
It was even funnier when one of them stretched in class, making a great effort to show how casual he was about letting his short-sleeved shirt slip a little farther up his biceps, and the other got to watch as the female teacher who was the subject of this demonstration almost invariably stuttered or lost her train of thought. The same effect could be accomplished with some subtle flexing of the biceps, right at a moment Henry or Mark knew the teacher was watching. The students who didn't know Mark and Henry would do this at times- didn't see them at the back of the room- never noticed, and the guys or girls who did know were good at keeping a straight face now. Normally Mark wouldn't have thought twice about putting on a show for the new chemistry teacher, fighting to hold back laughter as his casual movements or flexes of a few powerful muscles invariably flustered her.
But Mark didn't do that today. Mark recalled, watching as Ms. Michaels talked them through the notes for today- which Mark was writing down diligently- how, truth be told, Mark and Henry really just did that for the female teachers who were young enough to still be flustered by it but neither boy would so much as look at twice. Ms. Michaels was just different from that. She was a young, pretty teacher, clearly knowledgeable in one of Mark's favourite subjects. From the start of the week Mark had been paying close attention to the class- and to her.