A/N: I know I have tried to alternate chapter PoV's to equalize face time between the two protagonists, but at this point I'm afraid that I must break pattern to adhere to the school day schedule. Beyond the timeline I am equally motivated to begin this chapter with Damien simply because I never intended it to take 12 chapters to get to the first actual Damien/Pip interaction. Yet…with all the other background and detail to set up, and firmly establishing "social circles" for both…well here we are, at Chapter 12 with the Dip finally to begin its rocky road. Of course there would have been some poetic justice in pushing it back to Chapter 13, with all the ominous superstition accompanying that number. But…there is enough ill-luck and misfortune coming in the next chapter already. As it happens FF-net counts the Prologue as Chapter 1, and the Interlude as a chapter, so the true Chapter 13 is lost to me anyway.
Expect Gregory to return next chapter, though he will be 'sharing' it with Damien, as we move onto my favorite class. As the story progresses expect more chapter splitting. Truth be told I expect PoV to become a fairly fluid thing, especially during school days. There is simply too much going on in some classes/scenes that require observations from both protagonist, as well as the slew of supporting casts. I'd either have to switch back and forth in the chapter, or retell the entire scene in the next chapter for the second PoV. Considering how long the storyline is on my laptop, I think I can do without doubling the chapter length unnecessarily. And as a personal opinion, I tend to prefer the switching PoV to the scene retelling. I feel the story flows smoother along the timeline, even if it loses some of its rigidity in viewpoint.
Anywho, enough useless babble. Hopefully you skipped this and went right to the good stuff. If not…stop poking around my silly rambling and scoot on ahead to the story. I won't mind!
Enjoy you wonderful readers,
Sky
"Man is his own star; and the soul than can,
Render an honest and a perfect man,
Commands all light, all influence, all fate.
Nothing to him falls too early, or too late.
Our acts, our angels are, for good or ill,
Our fatal shadows that walk buy us still." ~ John Fletcher
Chapter 12: Is it in our stars or bad chemistry?
Sometimes Fate was one stubborn bitch. You left your old home, moved to a new place, finally made a few friends, you even changed your fundamental dimension of existence, but some things just couldn't be escaped. Especially not Fate's bosom buddies, the stars. I hate them and everything else in the sky that brings Sariel joy. Sariel might be in another world, shamed in front of the Fallen, never able to give Damien another assignment ever, and yet Damien's tormentor was still winning. The slip of paper in Damien's hand trembled a little in his grip as he read the first line again.
7:50-8:35 - First period – Astronomy – Room 415 - Mr. Brahe
No matter how strongly Damien wished and stared at the paper, the assignment remained unchanged. Likewise, glaring at the door with the letters 415 etched in the opaque glass did nothing to remove the room from existence. Not that Damien couldn't do just that. A little tweak of probability, not even a big touch of chaos, just a few minor changes to the air in the room, substitute in some hydrogen and incite a spark. Fire was the easiest thing in the world to generate. Everything and everyone was flammable with enough effort, all it took was finding the right chaotic chance that you had a substance on hand that could ignite at the temperature available. You could also provide a little friction, say with the snap of a finger, to create a pinpoint instant of dramatically increased heat. From there you just needed to provide the timber. Once a fire got started, it tended to grow both chaotically and with ordered deliberation. It really didn't need any help at that point. This was part of why even demons used it so effectively. Damien could think of a dozen easy ways Room 415 could be scoured from the earth, taking along with it this Mr. Brahe. The bastard undoubtedly deserved his face for choosing to teach astronomy.
There was a downside of course. If the angels and demons didn't catch him, Penemue would. And that would be unpleasant. Possibly worse than suffering through the actual class itself. So he was stuck with taking the class. There was still one faint hope; his new friends might be in the class. None of the three boys seemed particularly studious, they'd be sure to keep him so entertained he might be able to tune out the stupidity being crammed down his throat. It wasn't like he needed to pay attention to pass whatever tests the class could offer. I know the damn things backwards and forward. By name, color, size, order, age. I've never even seen the stupid things and I know them all by fucking heart. Sariel drilled it all into my head so thoroughly I can't forget no matter how hard I tried. Then he still turned around and told Penemue I wasn't trying hard enough. Claimed I didn't understand them on a fundamental level. Said I couldn't be taught to 'Work' with them. He crammed me with theory then got pissed that I didn't get more out of it than he put in. Nothing was ever good enough for him, or dad or-
The bell rang announcing the end of homeroom. According to the school handbook he'd painstakingly read for clues on things that would irritate Mr. Mackey in the future, between classes there were ten minutes for students to get from their prior class, to lockers, and then the next class. With a shrug Damien pushed the door open, examining the room as he entered.
Maps of the night sky took up some walls, but others had maps of the world at large, as well as random other countries on display. Clearly, Mr. Brahe taught subjects other than Astronomy. A very small point in his favor. Perhaps he didn't deserve outright death by incineration. The teacher was blissfully unaware of how close his life had come to ending a few minutes prior as he was in the midst of a nap, his head resting on meaty arms folded on his desk. It was Mr. Brahe's very good fortune that he looked nothing like Sariel, one more point in favor of his life not ending early this very school year in a fiery cataclysm. He was an obese man, fat by even the kindest of standards, and possessed of a ruddy complexion and bushy red mustache. By all available clues this man enjoyed food and sleep at least as much as any intellectual pursuits. With any luck he only likes Astronomy because of the lack of physical activity. Maybe he just spends a lot of time lying on his back and happens to teach Astronomy because Cloud-watching isn't a subject.
Things were looking up and that wasn't a bitter pun on star-gazing in any way. Still Damien refused to get excited. Even if luck was with him and the man was completely indifferent to the subject, it was still his job to cram useless knowledge down Damien's unwilling throat. Knowledge Damien either already had memorized or could care less about. If there were no distractions, Damien would still be stuck listening to every droning minute of it. Remembering Kenny's parting words, Damien went to the very back of the class sitting in the center of the final row, to wait and hope.
Five slow minutes passed with various students wandering into the room, most choosing rows near the front, though only one sat in the very first row. Not one of them glanced back, looked around, or showed any inclination or interest in sitting in the rearmost row. Damien barely gave the back of their heads any consideration, seeing as none of them were wearing an orange jacket, a militaristic turtleneck, or odd blue hat. Well, the single kid sitting in the front row was wearing a dark blue cap, but it was all wrong, lacking the odd dangly things that had hung from Craig's cap. And his jacket was the wrong color and style, a dark red blazer.
At six minutes the signs of anxiety were starting to show, the pencil in Damien's hands twisted and twirled, his eyes darted from door to clock and back again, he even started to gnaw on his lip absently. Damien started considering his options if none of them turned up. Blowing the room up was out of the question now. The more people he involved in the explosion the worse it would be for him when all those souls showed up at their destination with his name under their 'manner of death.' Getting out of the class via official channels was equally unlikely. There was no way Lee would contradict Penemue's orders and even if he did, Penemue would find out eventually and that'd be a whole mess of bad. There's nothing I can do to get out of day after day after day of this.
Damien groaned by minute seven, the sound actually getting a few curious faces to turn to him and causing the slumbering giant in front to shift to wakefulness, peering at the disturbance and the students in surprise. Mr. Brahe's eyes narrowed at Damien in the back, identifying the noisy student by the fidgeting and clear unhappiness practically oozing out of Damien's body. Dismissing the disturbance, Mr. Brahe yawned before slowly rummaging through his papers, moving aside charts to pull out a particularly thick book that elicited a second groan from Damien.
Mr. Brahe looked straight at him then, his face actually reddening a bit more in irritation. Elsewhere in the class a few girls giggled and a boy stifled a laugh. The teacher scoured the room with a disdainful glare before returning to the book. The reaction lit a small flare of hope in Damien's miserable heart. There was a small chance after all. This man was clearly easy to irritate. And there were the other students to play off of. Mr. Brahe was no Fallen to hold back his irritation with immortal will, coldly ignoring distraction and forcing the lecture through while extracting vengeance in more subtle ways. He'd probably snap at the slightest provocation and unlike Sariel, he had other students to attend to. He'd have no choice but to send Damien to the office. Principal's office or Astronomy….tough choice…not.
With a little luck he could have this man demanding that the principal remove Damien from his class in less than a week. And it'd be great practice for Mr. Mackey's fate. It wasn't like Damien needed to excel in everything, or anything for that matter. He just had to do well enough to keep Penemue happy. But he won't be happy at all if I'm expelled from a class because of misbehavior. Think! There's a way to make this work.
Again Damien considered what his current teacher lacked that his old nemesis had and the solution was apparent. Sariel had Penemue's respect, no mortal had that. All Damien had to do was play on Penemue's dislike for the weakest and worst of traits in mortals. Damien just had to convince Penemue that the man was impossible to work with, and his complains were all because of his own inadequacies and not deliberate actions on Damien's part. One look through Lee's eyes at a man who so obviously gave into the vices of gluttony and sloth and Penemue would forgive Damien any trouble Mr. Brahe had with him. If Damien softened the news with promises to read some of Sariel's stupid book and proved to Penemue that despite Sariel's claims he did know the stars backwards and forwards, Penemue wouldn't even be upset with him over it.
All I have to do is get this man to hate me. This is going to be so easy. Damien stood up and checked the clock one last time. Two minutes still left before class was ready to start, but Damien had no interest in delaying his plan by a second, at this point even if Kenny and the others were in the class he still wanted to do this. He was going to start his relationship with Mr. Brahe off on the right foot. Literally the right foot, since Damien's gaze was locked on the man's stubby legs stretched out under the desk and into the front aisle. Just step on him by mistake while asking some inane question about getting the bathroom pass with two minutes still left before class even starts. That should piss him off twice over and keep me looking innocent so I can blame it all on him hating me from the start later.
Damien carefully schooled his face into an innocent expression; it did not come naturally at all. As he reached the front row of seats he lifted his eyes to the man's squinting pig-like face as he readied himself to deliver a vicious kick to the exposed shin. He was already figuring out what to do next, hoping to be out of this class before ten minutes passed. But…Fate is a bitch. A bitch that love's her stars and hated Damien.
"Damien?" The question burst its way through Damien's scheming thoughts, all but shouted in surprise by a voice right beside him. Damien hadn't heard his name pronounced with that particular accent in a very long time, but the memory shoved aside his hastily made plans and arrested his walk mid-step. Very slowly Damien turned to look down at the one boy sitting alone in the front row. A boy wearing a red blazer and tie. A boy whose strands of long blonde hair peeked out from beneath a dark blue cap, framing a face all at once familiar and yet so very different from a memory of so long ago. Phillip Pirrup. Oh…fuck.
Utter shock, surprise, worry, and roughly nine years of repressed guilt battled for control of Damien's response, tying up Damien's tongue as he stared down at the blonde dumbly.
Oh god, now I've done it. This isn't Damien at all is it? Just some random new bloke who probably thinks I'm loony.
But Phillip had been so positive it was Damien. And the revelation had come as such a surprise he hadn't had time to think it out before shouting. He'd noticed the boy in the back when someone had groaned in irritation and gained everyone's attention. From that moment on Phillip had been distracted by that odd combination of pale skin, black hair, and fiery crimson eyes. The image had tickled its way through his memory, causing him to completely forget about facing forward again, despite the fact that Mr. Brahe had spent all of last week impressing upon them just how very, very important it was to pay attention in his class. Especially if you were lucky enough to be 'allowed' in the front row.
Instead Phillip had been sitting almost backward in his chair watching as that boy's face transformed from restless exasperation into a mask of focused determination. Then when he'd stood up and started to walk towards the front, it had come together. The confidant stride, the intensity in his stare that seemed it was a second away from setting the air in front of him on fire, the purposeful arrogance in every step. By the time the boy had reached Phillip, the name was on his lips before his mind was finished wondering how this boy could have come to be here. And he'd blurted that name out. Like an idiot.
And now this very attractive boy who could in no way be a ghost of a memory from nine years before, was staring at him as if he'd grown extra heads. For that matter the whole class was staring at him. Phillip felt the crimson sneak up his face as his streak of very unusual brashness turned back into his normal bashfulness in seconds. What's come over me? It's got to be a reaction from all the excitement this weekend. I'm just not used to having someone my age living at the Fosterage. Having Gregory around has me so off balance that I'm saying all sorts of stupid things out loud today. First I almost bring up the dating thing right in front of Leopold, then there was finding that sword in school, and now I'm shouting names of boys from years and years ago at perfect strangers. In front of the entire class.
And it wasn't Damien. It couldn't be. What were the odds two random boys from a year of school nine years past would just return out of the blue in the same week? Add on to that, the fact that this boy looked almost afraid of Phillip, definitely not a trait of Damien's. How could he even begin to think this guy looked like Damien since his only memories of the boy were of an eight year old? You've been spending too much time trading stories about third grade with Gregory you great big ninny.
The silence stretched on for a few seconds more before Phillip choked down a gulp of air and forced an uneasy smile onto his face as he looked up. From his seated position the not-Damien boy towered over him in an imposing manner. Instead of figuring a way out of his situation, Phillip had to keep himself from checking out the boy. It was very hard to ignore the almost devilishly good looks. It was so unnatural, almost fey, but still so very alluring. Phillip's eyes trace down the fairly tight shirt to take in more of the boy before he caught himself and forced his gaze back up to the hauntingly familiar eyes. He looked so much like Damien. Or at least a lot like Phillip would want Damien to look. A lot like I'd want any boy to look. Oh god, Phillip! Stop this before you start drooling or worse. Get a grip on yourself and say something before he thinks you're bloody daft on top of being rude.
Say something. Anything. How have you been all these years? Why do you remember me? Is it because you have developed a pathological fear of open flames? Have I scarred you for life? Do you hate me? I'm sorry?
Nothing managed to bridge the gap of stunned surprise between brain and tongue. In spite of the obvious fact that he might bump into Phillip again, Damien had managed to not make a single plan for this occasion. He was so sure he'd notice Phillip first and have time to figure it out. He should have had a chance to get his emotions and thoughts in order first. And why not? He'd kept the picture perfectly unwrinkled and examined it countless times; he should have recognized this boy among all others from a mile away. He certainly shouldn't have spent eight minutes in the same damn room without realizing it.
But Phillip had to ruin everything by growing up. Penemue had even warned him to expect these sorts of changes. Phillip was definitely not the eight year old boy in the picture anymore. It was almost a betrayal to all that effort and care he'd taken with that stupid old photograph. Phillip had changed. And yet face to face, he could still tell this Phillip, appearances might have changed but little else had. Even without the accent, he could have identified it from the way the boy called out his name with that same old bubbly cheer. Granted that easily identifiable emotion was fading fast as Phillip's expression became more strained and his eyes dropped down to his desk and back up to Damien's face a few times. That only reinforced the fact that it had to be Phillip. Alongside the cheer, the bashfulness, innocence and insecurity were ingrained in every fiber of his soul. And alien to everything Damien had grown up with.
Damien felt his mouth fall open, but nothing came out at first. Then Phillip spoke again.
"Uh, sorry chap. Mistaken identity. I just…you…I thought you were someone I used to know. Please don't be offended." Phillip was biting his upper lip now, his cheeks red with embarrassment and his eyes wide with worry.
"I am," Damien replied in a daze. It wasn't quite eloquent, but Damien felt obligated reassure the wilting boy that he was indeed who Phillip thought he was. Then Phillip's face fell as he shrank into his chair in fear. Damien almost felt sick with guilt; sure Phillip had somehow remembered everything he'd done to him in spite of the Working. Then he realized exactly what Phillip had said and how his answer was interpreted. He almost smacked his head though he halted just before impact and instead ran his hand through his hair, clearing non-existent strands from his face. Seeing the confusion and worry in Phillip's face he tried again, this time going for quantity by speaking in a rush of words to make sure he didn't get misunderstood again.
"No, I didn't mean…I'm not offended…I meant…I am the boy you thought- I," with a weary groan Damien stopped himself mid-word and took a breath. As he exhaled he sank into the seat beside Phillip before resting his elbows on his knees and leaning across the aisle-way. Starting slowly he finished the awkward answer, "I am Damien."
By the he finished Damien was wincing inside. Compared to that mess, his first 'I am,' was practically prose! What the hell's wrong with me? Is this seriously the best I can come up with?
"Oh, really?" Phillip was sitting back up, the pensive smile already twisting its way back onto his face. "I can't believe you came back! How have-"
The bell rang cutting off the sentence mid word. Phillip abruptly clammed up and looked towards the front of the class. Damien did not catch the hint. He was not ready to give up just yet, not now that he'd actually gotten words out.
"I didn't catch that. What were you-" Damien began, before being interrupted.
"I do believe that was the bell. And that means we are now on MY time not yours. So if the little chatting could end now. I'd be so very appreciative." Mr. Brahe even sounded thick, with his ponderous, booming voice.
"I'm sorry that was my-" Phillip began.
"None of that Mr. Pirrup. We don't offer excuses in this class. We just do better. And I always expect better from someone in my front row. In this instance you had nothing to apologize for anyway. You weren't the one speaking. My comment was directed to you Mr. …" the teacher let his voice trail off as he turned to Damien.
Damien felt the grin that had started creeping across his face turn feral, his smile exposing razor sharp canines to the fat interrupter. He started to ignore the man completely, turning to continue taking to Phillip, but the look on Phillip's face was filled with worry. Damien was at a loss as to what there was to fear from the man? How hard would it be to take him in a fight? Just take out his legs and he'd have less chance than a turtle on its back. There was absolutely nothing this man could do to him. Except kick me out of this class…fuck.
In spite of the fact that Damien had been hoping to achieve that very goal less than a minute prior, pissing off the teacher had suddenly lost all of its appeal. What if this was the only class that Phillip was in? What if this was his one chance to get all that guilt off his chest and try to make some kind of amends with the kid he'd royally screwed over? Damien almost felt his stomach twist in revulsion as he turned back to Mr. Brahe and tried to school his smile into something that didn't quite say, 'I hate you, die now.'
"Damien…Star," the response was flat, devoid of any emotion. Damien figured a hollow response was better than letting any of the emotions he was feeling trickle into his answer.
"What an ironic name for this class Mr. Star," Mr. Brahe laughed at his own joke, oblivious that no one else joined in. "As you are new to my class I will overlook the fact that you clearly sat in the front row by mistake. You see, students in my class are assigned seats. As you can see I space them out," Damien turned to see that all the students were indeed sitting isolated in an almost checkerboard pattern. "This keeps their attention on me and off…others." He said the last while pointing at Phillip who shrank again. Damien leaned closer protectively while glaring upward. The urge was to hit the man if his hand flashed towards Phillip again, but in a show of incredible restraint he was not putting the idiot in his place.
When Damien made no move to stand up and in fact proved the teacher's point about distraction by leaning in closer to Phillip, Mr. Brahe rubbed his temples in irritation. Then he examined his chubby fingers in distaste before flinging away the beads of sweat that had transferred from his forehead. Clearly he had overexerted himself with the effort of standing up and shouting. He sighed dramatically before speaking again this time slowly with overemphasized annunciation, "Mr. Star. I'm afraid you cannot simply sit where you like. The only students whom I allow to sit where they want are the students who sit in the front row. And my front row is not a right, it is a privilege. One that I only reserve for my, if you'll pardon the jest, 'star pupils,'" again he chuckled, while several muffled groans sounded from the room.
"So maybe I'm one of them. Star pupils that is," Damien said with a hint of caustic challenge sneaking into his voice as he leaned back into his seat and folded his long arms across his chest.
Enormous eyebrows, like red, wooly caterpillars, climbed Mr. Brahe's forehead as he mumbled a moment incoherently. Then he sat down ponderously, his chair creaking in protest as he fanned himself and stared at Damien a bit dumbfounded. Out of the corner of his eye Damien caught Phillip staring equally amazed. Very aware of Phillip's attention, Damien gave into the urge to sit a little further back. For no reason he could figure out he suddenly felt the need to achieve the same look of 'cool indifference' that Christophe and Craig had shown when he met them.
"Well…well…well then. I suppose…why not. But I warn you Mr. Star. If you don't pass muster, I expect you to sit where I tell you, which I think will be where you sat when you came in. In the very back, far away from any…distractions," Mr. Brahe emphasized his point with a wagging in Damien's direction.
Very proud of how maturely he was handling this, for example he completely resisted the urge to remove the wagging finger from the man's hand, Damien nodded his agreement.
"I mean it Mr. Star. Your word that you will go back without a single argument or complaint," Mr. Brahe leaned in to emphasize his seriousness.
"My word," the smile slipped from Damien's face as he leaned in suddenly very serious. Damien Morningstar did not break promises, even to fat, filthy mortal worms. Besides how hard could this be? Sariel had taught him the mortal names for the stars right alongside with the ancient ones, hoping to trip him up with the confusing comparison. After surviving that monster of a teacher, what chance did this guy have? Beside him Phillip actually gulped a little and Damien shot him a smile to reassure him that there was nothing at all to worry about.
"Very well, the North star, use by sailors as a reference is more common-" Mr. Brahe began in a droning tone, undoubtedly planning on easing his workload by teaching the class as he tested Damien. Damien was having none of it.
"Polaris," Damien replied flatly, cutting the question off mid-sentence.
Mr. Brahe stopped a moment blinking in surprise before harrumphing. He drew a deep breath before beginning again. "As we move out of our solar system, you'll find the next close-"
"Alpha Centauri," Again Damien cut to the chase, determined not to give the man the satisfaction of his grandstanding style of teaching.
The man stopped a second time showing a hint of displeasure now. With a grind to his teeth he stopped addressing the class in general and turned his whole attention on Damien. He leaned forward, planting his elbows on the desk and eliciting another groan of protest from the wooden furniture.
"The constellation the Great Bear is also-"
"Ursa Major," Damien made a show of leaning away into his seat as Mr. Brahe leaned in. Beside him he heard Phillip choke off a small laugh and Damien felt the strangest bubble of a smile forming on his own face in spite of the irritation he felt at the teacher. The corners of his mouth turned a little upward…with no effort or conscious thought on his part. That usually only happened when Cerberus was around. Or he pulled off a particularly good prank. It never happened when he was having a lesson, especially one on stars. Before he could wonder at the reaction the next question was fired, in response to his own.
"Which contains another constell-"
"Big Dipper," Damien wasn't one for showmanship, but the faster he answered the more amused Phillip seemed to get, so why the hell not?
"Which is made up of seven-"
"Alkaid, Alcor, Mizar, Alioth, Megrez, Phecda, Merak, and Dhube."
With each name gasps were escaping students behind him. Mr. Brahe looked equally astounded until he counted the responses silently then smirked.
"I'm afraid that was eight, Mr. St-"
"Alcor and Mizar are stacked, they appear as one."
Now students were openly laughing, not that Mr. Brahe noticed. He stared a moment before mumbling and rummaging through the giant book in front of him and flipping the pages. At last he found what he was looking for and counted out a few names. Sure enough he mouthed eight of them before nodding at Damien. A few students clapped and only then did Mr. Brahe realize he'd lost control of his own classroom. With a grimace he waved the students to silence.
"Very well. Clearly you know your stars. Of course there's more to stars than just Astronomy. To earn the kind of freedoms I grant my top students I expect you to know about the planets, moons, nebulae phenomena, and more."
Damien felt the first hitch in his confidence. Stars Sariel had covered in great abundance. The Moon as well. But beyond the planets of this solar system, Sariel had shown no concern for the others. Too far away to be used in Workings. Only stars had the kind of power to reach from such great distances. Feeling his confidence fade, Damien stopped leaning back and shifted in his seat as his shoulders dropped slightly. Before he could think of some appropriate response Phillip piped up beside him.
"Mr. Brahe, that's not very fair. The test for front row was only on the constellations. You shouldn't test him on extra stuff that you haven't even taught yet."
Damien shot Phillip a look of gratitude that for some reason caused the poor Brit to flush almost crimson. Phillip immediately broke the eye contact and returned his pleading gaze to the teacher. Behind him a few other students muttered in mutinous agreement.
"Very well," Mr. Brahe seemed flustered at being called out. "One more question though," again angry voices rose from the other students. After that last one what did Damien still have to prove? Still Mr. Brahe took on a sickeningly placating tone, "Now now. I will be fair. This one will be common knowledge. Very easy for someone with as much background as Mr. Star seems to have. Name the brightest star in our sky."
The entire class turned to Damien and he stared back in surprise, mulling quietly. Surely there was a trick here, the man wouldn't be so confident if there wasn't something sneaky about this one. Then he realized the man hadn't specified the conditions. Smirking back he responded.
"By what standards? Light emission? Visibility to the naked eye? What season?"
To Damien's displeasure Mr. Brahe only smiled wider. "Naked eye Mr. Star. You're making it too hard. I promised you an easy one and I am a man of my word. I hope you are as well," he grinned as he gestured mockingly towards the seats at the back of the class. Damien glowered back at the implied insult to his honor.
Unfortunately Damien was at an impasse. He was sure if he asked for more clarification he'd be accused of stalling. Worse Mr. Brahe clearly knew what options he was considering and felt he was on the wrong track. Fuck. Above the Equator, Sirius is the brightest of the bright stars, but your position on the earth can sometimes cause it to fade into the horizon. Some of the double stars can get pretty bright, but he said single star. And below the equator it's all different. Then there are the variable stars that are brighter at certain seasons.
Damien was never one to feel the pressure in any situation. So why was he suddenly very concerned with his answer? It's not like he cared if Mr. Brahe or even the students behind felt any respect for him. He could just stand up now and walk to the back and at least deprive the teacher the pleasure of a wrong answer to gloat over. Damien's feet ignored the suggestion and he had a pretty good guess as to why they were being so stubborn. Phillip's watching damn it.
He threw a look to his left, expecting to see disappointment on Phillip's face. Instead Phillip was hiding a tiny smile. As soon as Damien met his gaze Phillip rolled his eyes towards the window and winked. Damien looked at the window in confusion. What did a bright, sunny day have to do with astronomy? …Oh, Damien, you dumb fuck.
With a groan of irritation at the sheer stupidity of both himself and the question, Damien felt very little satisfaction when he moaned out the answer. "Sol. The sun."
One look at the disappointment on Mr. Brahe's face was all he needed to see to know he'd guessed right.
"Very well then. So you can reason as well as recite. I must congratulate you Mr. Star. It appears a brilliant mind can hide in even the most, unimpressive of shells. You may remain in your seat."
In spite of the back-handed compliments Damien smiled in victory. This was mostly because he missed everything the man had said, turning to share a conspirational grin with Phillip the instant he'd seen the look of disappointment on Mr. Brahe's face signaling his victory. He opened his mouth to say something appropriate to Phillip, when a meaty fist landed on the desk in front of him.
"I still expect you to remain quiet during class, Mr. Star. If you wish to talk to Mr. Pirrup so badly I'm sure it can wait till after class." A few stifled snorts behind them had Phillip flushing again and Damien shot a glare over his shoulder that silenced the students as effectively as Mr. Brahe's slamming fist.
"As Mr. Pirrup is already aware, my star pupils are held to a relaxed standard during class, but at a price. On one hand you may sit at front and ask questions concerning the lecture without waiting for permission. You will also be excused from my Friday classes and the weekly quizzes I proctor on that day. Lastly I will permit you to miss classes for independent study when the rest of the class has days to work on their papers, which you will be excused from as well. But for all of this I will expect you to produce for me. A star journal to be made each weekend and turned in for my inspection Monday. I'll expect it to be a thorough one; at least an hour spent observing the stars as you record your observations. And every Monday a report on my desk, two pages minimum, on something current with astronomical implications, you may use the libraries research journals, news, and the internet as a resource. If the quality of these reports slips, or you become delinquent in your journal," Mr. Brahe waved at the back of the room leaving the threat clear.
Then Mr. Brahe dropped the subject with a weary sigh before leaning back in his chair and rotating the seat so he could look at the board behind him. He pulled out a pointer so that he would not even have to stand to motion at the chart on the wall. He began to ramble on about the names of common constellations. As he droned on the students around Damien pulled out notebooks and soon the room was filled with the sound of scribbling. Damien turned to Phillip, but was disappointed to see the Brit was recording the notes as busily as any other kid in the class. Deprived of the boy's attention Damien slumped into his seat, fending off a very odd desire to pout.
Damien distracted himself by watching Phillip's pencil move in a blur across the page as he tried to work out just what was going on in his head. Sure he'd shown up the teacher and gotten the right to sit wherever he'd wanted. Yet, by all accounts he'd surely lost this fight. First of all he was still in this class and now there was no way he'd ever be able to convince the teacher he was too stupid and boring to teach. Worse he was stuck at the very front, the epicenter of the boring droning lecture, in a spot where he'd never be able to nap or plain ignore the teacher. And to top it all off, according to Mr. Brahe's explanation it seemed he'd 'earned' the right to do even more work not less. He'd just traded easy tests reciting dull facts for weekly writing assignments that would require long thought out answers.
Suddenly Phillips pencil stopped its blurring motion. Phillip waved the pencil at Damien to get his attention before tapping the corner of his notebook closest to Damien. Damien temporarily abandoned his musings as he tried to cautiously lean over and read the message written there.
Want to do your first Star journal with me this weekend?
Damien nodded numbly at Phillip, who was still facing forward, eyes on Mr. Brahe. He wasn't sure Phillip even caught his response, until he noticed a hint of red creeping up the Brit's neck and cheek before Damien lost track of it under pale blonde hair. Damien was even more confused at that reaction, as well as why he should feel so pleased with being stuck in this class of all classes. While the rest of the students dutifully recorded constellation names Damien spent the time trying to figure out just what was wrong with him. I swear I got the worst end of this deal, so why does it feel like I won?
The class-over bell was relief to Damien's ears when it finally rang. In that one respect perhaps he and Mr. Brahe agreed, for as soon as it's brazen tone sounded, the giant of a teacher stopped mid word, folding his arms and dropping his bulbous head down onto the meaty pillow they made. Damien stared a bit horrified and stunned at the teacher's abrupt reaction.
"Don't worry Damien," Phillip interjected as he put his notebook away, "he's not dead. I poked him the first day of class to see if he needed the school nurse. He told me that all the effort of molding our young minds exhausts him. He needs little naps between classes."
"I wouldn't have worried if he was dead," Damien indignantly denied the implication that he might be concerned about anyone's death. Phillip flinched at his tone and Damien attempted to soften the statement, "I mean…I wasn't worried about it because I could still see him breathing." And still hear it for that matter. The man's snoring is obnoxious, even in his sleep he pisses me off!
"Oh. Well that's good. So…uh…" Phillip trailed off a moment staring at the floor before looking back up at Damien, "You never answered my question. From before class. How have you been?"
"I've been ok, a lot's happened," Phillip perked up clearly interested in hearing more from Damien, but a particularly violent snore interrupted Damien's train of thought. "Can we talk about this somewhere quieter?" Damien gestured to Mr. Brahe and then picked up his pack and headed towards the door. Phillip nodded understandingly before following. Damien was grateful for the agreement. Phillip might be able to drown out the obnoxious snores, but Damien was about five seconds away from plugging the man's nostrils with erasers and shoving a book in his mouth to block his breathing holes.
Outside Damien discovered he had a new problem; apparently school hallways were not as quiet when students were walking in them. Damien had forgotten that there were other people at South Park High, his walk to his first class had been during homeroom when the hallways had been blissfully empty. Now they were packed wall-to-wall with students rushing in different directions or conversing loudly. He stopped to turn around and re-enter the room, but Phillip had already slipped past him, gesturing across the hall and moving through the crowd with ease. Damien stared at the escaping blonde, attempting to follow only to be bumped roughly to the side by a student rushing to his locker. Every step was maddening, masses of students forcing Damien to veer of course, up and down the hallway, passing the door he was aiming for countless times. In frustration Damien shouldered and elbowed his way through the crowd, but even that violence wasn't enough on its own. Every kid he roughly shoved had two or three more right behind them shoving back. By the time he reached the door Phillip had entered, the room was already filling with students.
Phillip waited inside the door a small grin on his face, but before Damien could even enter and finally talk, two more students popped up trying to squeeze into the door ahead of him. A dark glare caused both to jump out of the way as he stormed in first. A quick examination showed the room half full, yet still quieter than it had been outside.
"So welcome to my next class," Phillip smiled as he presented the room in a sweeping gesture. "I thought it would be the quietest option. It's so close to Astronomy that I'm usually the first one in here and get a few moments to myself. I didn't realize it'd take so long for you to…cross the hall." Though Damien gave Phillip the same glower as he had the two other students, it did very little to quell the impish smile on the boy's face at Damien's trouble with school navigation.
"Well they kept getting in my way," Damien waved at the people behind him in frustration.
"You might have gone faster if you'd tried to squeeze by them rather than punch a hole wide enough to stroll through," Phillip offered with a slight twinkle of amusement in his blue eyes.
"I shouldn't have to, I'm…" Damien swallowed the end of his statement rather than finish, "I was clearly in a hurry. They should have given way."
"Everyone's in a hurry out there. They don't want to miss their next class. Speaking of which, where are you headed, maybe I can tell you a short-cut so you don't have to fight as much traffic."
"Chemistry," Damien replied gloomily at the thought that he'd have to wander off already.
"Well lucky you, you don't have to fight the crowd! This is the chemistry class! That means we have another class together." Phillip smiled brightly, his eyes almost glowing with exuberance.
Lucky me indeed. Damien wondered dazedly before shaking the thought from his head.
"So where are we sitting?" Damien asked as soon as he regained control of his power of speech.
Abruptly Phillips face fell a little, the smile turning awkward.
"Well actually, we can't sit together here…" Phillip trailed off a moment reddening lightly before continuing, "You have to sit with lab partners and my group's already full. Mrs. Curie will probably put you with one of the groups that only has two students."
"Oh. Well you can just get rid of one of yours." Damien suggested, thought it came out more like a command than a request.
Phillip grimaced, "I c-can't do that. They're both friends of mine. It wouldn't be very nice."
"I can do it for you. Just point them out to me," Damien offered in what he assumed was a helpful manner.
Phillip's mouth opened a bit in shock at the suggestion and Damien realized he'd said something inapporpriate. He was about to ask just what he'd said that was so wrong when a familiar orange jacketed arm fell on his shoulder and a second blonde filled his field of vision.
"Champ! You're in our chemistry class! 'tophe and I will finally have a full group, this is awesome." Kenny spoke merrily.
"One second Kenny, I was talking to…" Damien pushed Kenny's head out the way only to find Phillip had vanished. Damien frowned unhappily and was about to storm to the front of the class, sure Phillip would be in one of the first tables. He very much wanted to finish talking to Phillip now that he'd finally started. Surely a little violence could clear a spot at Phillip's table. He couldn't be that attached to his friends, right?
"No worries dude I'll take care of everything," Kenny blissfully ignored Damien as he turned and yelled to the front of the class, "Mrs. Curie!" An elderly woman looked up from an impressive array of colored vials. She gazed at the students in confusion before focusing on the waving blonde in orange near the back. By that time the rest of the class was staring at the spectacle as well, not that Kenny seemed to care. "We got our third for our lab group now," Kenny pointed at Damien. The woman nodded distractedly before returning to her chemicals.
With that Kenny was dragging Damien towards a table where the Mole was already inspecting the laid out equipment for unsafe flaws that would surely result in a Kenny death. As soon as Kenny selected a seat, the blonde started reaching curiously towards the vials laid out for the day's lab, but his hand was slapped away by the Mole.
"Non, Kenny. Some of zose are volatile. Zere shouldn't be enough to kill anyone, but with you… Just sit zere and play with…zis" the Mole trailed off as he handed Kenny a relatively harmless looking empty beaker. Kenny began to pout but the Mole rolled his eyes and returned to inspecting the tubes connecting the Bunsen burner to the gas for cracks.
Damien ignored both of them, his eyes glaring through the crowd before finally finding the hat and blazer he was looking for. As he'd guessed Phillip was sitting at the very front between two other blonde boys. All Damien could make out from their backs was their hair, one on his left covered by a violent tangle of blonde hair sticking out in every direction and strange brown stains on the wrinkled yellow shirt he was wearing. It was the other boy that earned Damien's immediate dislike. The one on Phillip's left was in a pale blue dress up shirt with his sleeves folded to the elbows. That wasn't the irritating part, it was the fact that he and Phillip were leaning in towards each other as Phillip whispered excitedly to him.
Abruptly the boy looked to the back of the room searching the students until he locked eyes with Damien. Damien did nothing to hide his angry glower and the boy's fearful squeak was audible across the room. The frightened boy's hands met in front of him, grabbing and twisting at a light blue tie around his neck before he ducked his head and faced Phillip again. Damien continued glaring at the back of his head and the short blonde spikes on it, until Phillip's head started to turn in his direction. Immediately Damien tore his gaze from the table, pretending to be interested in the Mole's inspection of their equipment.
The bell sounded before Damien could check to see if Phillip had returned to talking to his friends. The woman at front gently cleared her throat and the class fell silent respectfully.
"Well class I hope you had a pleasant weekend. Not so pleasant that you forgot to do your Pre-labs of course," she said with a smile.
Beside Damien, Kenny cursed under his breath. "Damn it, the Pre-lab!"
The Mole groaned as he reached into his pack and pulled out his own homework. "Copy it quick while I finish ze inspection. And 'urry. I don't want us stuck 'ere after ze bell."
Mrs. Curie began to describe the experiment for the day and all too soon Damien found himself so busy helping the Mole set up that he couldn't take the time to mull over the table of blondes at the front. Once Kenny finished furiously copying, he started trying to help as well which ironically only slowed things down. The Mole was now distracted by the task of keeping Kenny from mixing the wrong things, leaving Damien to do most of the work. Still the bickering between the two of them, which usually ended in the Mole tearing vials from Kenny's hands while the blonde pouted, was an amusing counterpoint to the lab work. By the end of class Damien had managed to almost completely forget about his own issues with the table at the front of the room. Until the bell rang.
As the Mole had gloomily predicted, they finished barely in time, and had not yet cleaned up their lab when the bell rang. The Mole grabbed the waste beaker from Kenny's hands, taking the mix of acids to the disposal sink at the front, while muttering angrily about the chance Kenny might trip and spill the entire beaker on himself.
Kenny shrugged before helping Damien put away the tubes. It was only when they finished and Christophe returned, that Damien at last let himself sneak a peak at Phillip's table. Unfortunately it was completely empty. He stood with a start looking around him, but he couldn't see Phillip or the other two anywhere in the room. Anger and disappointment warred equally in Damien's head at the thought that Phillip had left without saying anything. Damien mutely handed Kenny his class schedule when the blonde asked him, where he needed to go next. Both Kenny and the Mole stared at him curiously, before shrugging at his unresponsiveness and leading him out of the room.
As he re-entered the swarm of students, Damien almost hit the first person to block his path. At the last second he held back, squeezing past them instead to follow Kenny who was slipping through the crowd easily. He tried to ignore the lack of dignity in moving out of other people's way, resisting the temptation to shove, while trying to figure out why he was bothering to follow Phillip's suggestion. He barely saw their path to the next class, completely distracted by the strange questions and feelings in his head.