10. Highs and Lows
The new quarter kicked off with Geography. The teacher was a Mr. Gaskin who dwarfed his desk and wore a perpetual frown. His hair was longer than Reno's and billowed around his head like the mane of a bandersnatch. It was brown and wavy, as was his full beard. He hung up a huge map of the world in front of the class, then invited everyone to come up and tell stories about the places they had visited.
Mr. Gaskin also pointed out and described several towns with funny names. Bone Village on the Northern Continent was no longer a village in size; the old name came from the gigantic bones of ancient creatures that littered the area. Rocket Town was a new settlement on the Western Continent that had sprung up around the construction site for the world's first space rocket, currently being built by the almighty Shinra.
Reno had nothing to add to the discussion, but he watched, and listened, and memorized names and locations. He hoped that Cissnei's guess about bodyguards on private planes was right, and that President Shinra had business in places like Bone Village and Rocket Town.
At the end of the lesson, they hadn't opened their textbooks a single time. Geography was all right, Reno decided. So was Mr. Gaskin.
Next up was Psychology. Reno loitered in the hallway, checking out the students who entered the classroom. As he'd expected, these were all older than the kiddies he'd shared classes with so far. He recognized some of the faces from the dorm, but he didn't really know any of them.
Did they recognize him? Did they all know Reno the Rat, who was as old as the seniors but so dumb he was taking first year classes?
It was almost time for the next class. His stomach was twisting, but he'd have to go in or he'd be stuck with whatever crappy seat was left. Reno took a deep breath, then crossed the hallway and entered the room.
He'd left it to the last moment. Only a few seats remained in the third row. As he made his way to the one closest to the window, he could feel the others' eyes on him. His neighbor didn't look up as he took a seat next to her, just kept staring out of the window. Behind him, he heard whispers and titters that were all too familiar by now. They recognized him, all right. Fuck.
Reno looked up when the door opened, but it wasn't the teacher. His guts pulled into the tightest knot as King Bro, Eelface and Mama's Boy strolled in.
He could tell the instant King Bro spotted him. After an initial flash of surprise, the jackass adopted a smarmy smile and tapped Eelface on the shoulder. He pointed at Reno as he said something under his breath.
As they headed his way, Reno realized something. The only seats left were next to him.
Fuck everything.
"Can we help you, Rat?"
King Bro's supercilious tone made Reno's hand inch toward the knife that was no longer in his boot. He didn't even have the boots themselves. Stupid goddamn topside school with its stupid-ass dress code.
"Nah," he said, recalling the satisfying crack of King Bro's skull hitting concrete. The guy had been taken down by a girl half his size. That fact kept the cocky smirk on Reno's face. "I'm good, yo."
"Are you sure about that? You seem a bit lost."
"Yeah," Eelface cut in. "Sorry, but this course isn't meant for losers stuck in first year forever."
He laughed. Mama's Boy joined in. King Bro just stood there with that shit-eating smile on his face, pretending to be doing Reno some great big favor. If these bozos had picked a fight with Reno in the streets down below, he'd have made sure they wouldn't try a second time. In this shithole, though, unarmed against three bigger and stronger guys, he was reduced to pulling pranks and mouthing off. Fuck this place.
The uneasy feeling in Reno's gut was rising, clawing its way upward to throttle his lungs. Deep breaths, the shrink said. Take deep breaths and leave the situation, but he couldn't, now could he? He was stuck here with these morons, stuck listening to the shit that poured out of their faces, until they'd push one button too many, and then he'd–
The bell rang, making the trio straighten up and look over at the door. Moments later it opened. This time it was the teacher, and that got King Bro and pals off his back and into the empty seats on his row, but...
It was Mr. Gaskin.
Reno sank down in his chair, wishing he could sink all the way through the floor. Why did it have to be Mr. Gaskin? He knew Reno was taking kiddie classes, too. He must think Reno was slow. Lazy. Stupid. That's what they all thought. His shot at this course had fizzled out before it even began.
Fuck every single thing in this fucking universe.
Hell, maybe he was stupid. Why had he opened his big mouth and asked to take this course? He couldn't just skip it now. He made such a damned big deal out of it with Veld and Tse–
The thump of a small stack of textbooks hitting his desk snapped Reno back to the present. He grabbed all but one and passed them onward.
"Let's start with a definition," Mr. Gaskin said in his slow, thoughtful manner. "How would you define 'psychology'?"
The word was written on the whiteboard, along with his name. He must have finished his introductory talk. Reno had missed all of it. In a class he'd specifically asked for. He really was some kind of stupid, wasn't he?
A girl in the second row raised her hand.
"The study of the human psyche?"
"That it is, yes, but let's try for something more precise. Ideas?"
Well, one thing was clear: Reno was stuck here for now. He would just have keep that big mouth of his shut for a change and keep a low profile.
"The study of conscious and unconscious processes in the brain," someone behind him suggested.
"Good, we're getting somewhere. An important part is still missing, though. Anyone?"
Reno stared at the stylized picture of a brain on the cover of his textbook, but the damned thing refused to tell him what a 'conscious process' might mean. At least the others had stopped spouting vague definitions now. Maybe they all knew more than him, but it seemed they didn't know everything.
"Behavior," Mr. Gaskin said. "Psychology studies both behavior and mental processes. Behavior can be observed. Mental processes take place solely in the mind."
He turned around and wrote "behavior" and "mental processes" underneath "psychology" on the whiteboard.
"Now that we have our definition," he continued, rounding his desk, "let's take a closer look at these two parts of it. How about we try out a game, hm? I will make a claim. You will decide if it's true or false, and explain why."
Reno shifted in his seat, studying his fellow students with surreptitious glances. He hoped they were the talkative kind. He desperately hoped Mr. Gaskin wouldn't pick someone "randomly" like that Nesbitt asshole.
"Let's go through a few claims about mental processes first. 'Reading is the process of thinking reflectively and productively, and evaluating the evidence.' True or false?"
Reno looked up in surprise. That one wasn't so hard. Was it a trick question?
"Come now, don't be shy," Mr. Gaskin said, when only scattered whispers filled the silence. "Mr. Arkham, what do you think?"
Eelface cut himself off in the middle of a hushed comment to King Bro and gaped at the teacher.
"Sorry?"
"Reading is the process of productive thinking and evaluation. True or false, Mr. Arkham?"
Eelface opened his mouth, but closed it again and frowned at the cover of his copy of the textbook. He looked at King Bro, who made a face and shrugged.
"Um... True?"
"Oh, c'mon! It's obviously bullshit."
The words were out before Reno realized he had opened his mouth. His stomach dropped to the floor as the whole class turned to look at him. He had fucked it up. Five minutes into the first class and he had already fucked it up.
Mr. Gaskin peered at him with his beady eyes.
"Mr. Reno, is it?"
He nodded, swallowing.
"While I need you to watch the language in the future, Mr. Reno, differing opinions are welcome. So, please explain to us why you disagree?"
He was caught completely off guard. He had expected a reprimand or a visit to the principal's office, not a question.
"Well, uh..."
He licked his lips, struggling to put his thoughts into words. What was it the teacher had said? Thinking... reflexes? Shit, he couldn't remember any of those fancy words.
From the corner of his eye he saw King Bro and pals sniggering together. They were just itching to see him screw this up.
Fuck it. Fuck them, and fuck all those fancy words. If he was going down, he'd do so on his own terms.
"Just readin' somethin' ain't gonna do ya much good, will it?" he said. "It's just makin' sense of a bunch of written words. Evaluatin' stuff, that's figurin' out if those words are any good or not. I mean, what if someone's written a bunch of bull–" He cut himself off at the last second and offered the teacher a sheepish grin. "Uh, crap?"
"Perhaps a word like 'falsehoods' would be better," Mr. Gaskin said with a small smile. "Mistaken information, or even propaganda and lies."
"Uh, sure. One of those."
"Very good, Mr. Reno. Does anyone have anything to add?"
The classroom was silent. Even the Bro Squad had gone quiet.
"The claim is indeed false," Mr. Gaskin said. "The term we're looking for here is 'critical thinking'. Reading is merely the gathering of information, as Mr. Reno pointed out. The mental process of analyzing and evaluating that information – that is critical thinking. Something I hope to see from all of you as we go on."
As the teacher spoke, Reno found himself gripping the edge of his seat. He felt like he might float away any second, or possibly melt onto the floor in a puddle of relief. He hadn't fucked it up. He got it right. Holy shit, he'd been right.
Mr. Gaskin was definitely all right. Maybe Psychology would be all right, too, after all.
Cissnei slumped down on the mat, panting. Reno dropped next to her and flopped down on his back, his breathing as ragged as hers.
"You've improved," Tseng said, handing her a water bottle. "Both of you."
"I should frickin' hope so," Reno grumbled. "Would suck to keep gettin' beat up by you twice a week for nothin'."
"It's called 'sparring', Reno. Not 'beating'."
"Same difference," he huffed, but flashed a grin after.
Cissnei gulped down several mouthfuls before she handed the bottle to Reno. Her heart pounded against her ribs like it was trying to burst out of her chest. It was the second time she had sparred with him, and both times he'd run them both into the ground by bouncing around the mat like a bunny on a sugar rush. He fought dirty, too, and tended to kick a bit too hard for practice. She was beginning to suspect Tseng had paired them up to weed out that last habit and teach him more control. She had watched Reno spar with the Turks, so she knew that nothing knocked him out of a hyperactive frenzy faster than her going down with a pained cry.
She could have sworn he was bouncier than usual today. After lunch he'd shown up for class with a big grin on his face, despite that class being Algebra 2, and he'd kept smiling through the afternoon. It was nice, Cissnei thought. He looked better with a smile than with a smirk.
As Cissnei glanced over at Tseng, she noticed he was holding a pair of fabric bags emblazoned with the school emblem.
"What's in those?" she asked, gesturing to them.
"Things you will need for the next stage of your physical training." He gave one to her and the other to Reno. "A swim test is part of your physical assessment. I suggest you start working on it."
As Tseng spoke, Cissnei checked her bag. It contained a bath towel and a one-piece swimsuit, both in the school's cobalt blue.
"You gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me! You expect me to wear this?"
Reno's voice had climbed a whole octave. She looked up to see him staring at a pair of blue briefs in his hands, his mouth hanging open.
"Part of the school dress code," Tseng said. "Every student wears the same kind of swimwear."
"No. No way in hell."
"The test is manda–"
"No!" Reno shot up and threw the swimwear on the floor. "Fuck this shit!"
The next second he was gone, the door swinging wildly in his wake. Tseng frowned.
"Sir?" Cissnei said, picking herself up from the floor. "I'll talk to him."
"No, leave him. Talking won't help when he's in that state."
"He isn't angry. He's just upset. I'll talk to him."
Tseng gave her an appraising look, then sighed.
"Very well. Give him a chance to cool down first, and make sure he understands it's mandatory. And... give him these. It might help."
He handed her a small cardboard box. Cissnei just nodded; to her surprise, she had realized his frown wasn't one of anger either. She picked up Reno's swimwear and his bag on her way out.
After a shower and a change of clothes, she began her search. She found him sitting in their usual spot by the apple tree, still in his gym clothes and hunched down in the darkest corner of the alcove with his arms around his knees. He didn't greet her. He didn't even look up when she sat down on the doorstep. Cissnei said nothing either, just sat beside him with his sports bag in her lap.
Remembering Tseng's advice, she pulled out the cardboard box he'd given her and finally took a look at it. Nicotine gum, cherry-flavored. Well, it was worth a shot.
"Here," she said, handing them over.
Reno huffed when he saw the package, but snatched it from her without a word. He popped a piece into his mouth and chewed for a while. Cissnei sat still, studying the apple tree as she listened to the muffled noise of traffic outside their walls.
"I ain't doin' it."
She glanced at him, but he was still glaring holes in the apple tree.
"Doing what?"
"Paradin' around the pool in nothin' but goddamn underpants, that's what."
His voice was dead, his face slack. Only his eyes betrayed any emotion. The mask was firmly in place. She'd have to loosen it before she could slip underneath and reach him.
"You mean... these?" Cissnei dug out his swimwear and held them up for inspection.
"You know what I fuckin' mean."
"Tseng is right, you know. Everyone here has the same swimwear, so you'll all be parading around in underpants."
Reno's shoulders rose even higher and his grip on his knees tightened.
"Just shut up, will ya?" he hissed. "And get those damn things outta my face already!"
Cissnei let her hands fall into her lap.
"You heard him," she said calmly. "You have to take a swim test to become a Turk."
He turned his face away, but she saw his blank expression waver.
"You're not giving up, are you? Because of these?" She lifted the briefs again.
"Look, it's pointless!" he spat. "I can't swim, okay?"
Cissnei wasn't surprised. It might have raised eyebrows back in Junon, but in Midgar she had met more than a few who had never learned to swim. The city was built on a plain, far from any rivers or lakes, and the sea was several hours away.
"That's fine. You can swap PE classes for swimming lessons."
His laugh was too tight to ring true, and too shrill for anger.
"Yeah, lessons in the mornings. When the swim team is at the pool, like, all the time. I ain't goin' in the fuckin' kiddie pool with the Bro Squad watchin'!"
She could picture it all too clearly. Just thinking about it, she could hear their jeers, bouncing off the tiled white walls. It took her only a second to make up her mind.
"Then let's go at night. I'll teach you."
It wasn't even a decision, just a natural response. He needed help. She would give it.
Reno looked back at her, frowning.
"You?"
He wasn't derisive or disbelieving. If anything, Cissnei detected a glimmer of hope. She smiled.
"Yeah, me. Back in Junon, I practically moved into the sea every summer. You get us into the gym, and I'll teach you."
She watched the emotions that flickered across his face as he considered it. Worry. Fear. Hope. The mask had fallen completely.
When he looked up at her, she could see the decision in his eyes, tinged with caution.
"Okay. I can do that."
"Good. Let's start tonight."
She offered him his swimming briefs. With a scowl of disgust, he snatched them out of her hand.
"These fuckin' things," he muttered, stuffing them into his bag. "I swear, if you're doin' this just so you can laugh at me in these, I'm gonna lock ya in there 'til morning."
"I promise I won't laugh," she said solemnly, then grinned. "Much."