Elluviel: Thanks for the review! I had so much fun writing that fairy tale, and it's music to my ears to hear that you enjoyed reading it.

Chapter 26: Heads Is Tails

Besides always being seated next to each other in class, another advantage of having a last name so similar to Sebastian's is that our lockers were right next to each other. This way, even if we didn't share every class on our schedule, we'd still see each other periodically throughout the day. We'd also shared combinations so that we could borrow each others' supplies in an emergency. Being caught in school without a pencil was like being caught in public without pants, and no one wanted to face the humiliation of asking the teacher to borrow such an essential object.

It also came in handy when a certain person (Ben) was evil and sneaky enough to somehow smash the locking mechanism with a hammer and not get caught. I didn't see him do it, but couldn't name any other suspects. A typical school vandal would have smashed more than one locker, unless he thought he was about to get caught after doing the first one. However, if that were the case, he wouldn't have started with my locker of all the options, he'd have started in the furthest recess of the hallway where he was least likely to be noticed. That left only Ben, who still held a grudge about the stupid science fair business, as a possible suspect.

Anyways, disregarding who destroyed my locker, I was thankful Sebastian had been willing to temporarily share his with me. Otherwise, administration would have stuck me with one of the wonky lockers on the other end of the school that only decided to open every once in a while even with the correct combination. I entered Sebastian's combination, 05-11-13, and stuck my lunch and coat inside.

The school year was progressing at an alarming rate: it was nearly half over. I'd scored straight As easily thus far, and was growing a little bored with the slow pace of my classes. English had still managed to hold me enraptured, as with each new book Ms. O'Toole revealed a new side of her teaching style and personality. We were currently on the Call of the Wild, which was a drag in and of itself, but which Ms. O'Toole somehow managed to turn into an engaging thrill. Whenever she read a chapter or two aloud to the class, she turned the temperature in the classroom way down to 'enhance the experience.'

I'd heard rumours that the other teachers in the school considered her a charlatan who played games instead of teaching, but every student who'd ever had her disagreed. I talked to some seniors who insisted they learned more in her class than in every other year of English combined.

I'd entered secondary school with the goal of asserting my belonging among the older kids, and I have to say, I'd definitely achieved that. Within the first week of school, I heard whispers of the really short smart kid who looks like he belongs in third class. My youth and exceptional intelligence made me somewhat of a celebrity; everyone wanted to catch a glimpse of me to prove the rumours true. I want to say that all the attention bothered me, but I cannot say that with a straight face. It was awesome.

Not only was I a well-known anomaly, I learned to exploit my fame. One thing I did not have in common with my peers was a loathing of homework. Most children saw it as the bane of their existence, but it was my salvation. I enjoyed doing my own homework, and one afternoon while I sat at my desk completing it, the idea struck me to do others' homework as well. People would pay to have someone as intelligent as me do their work for them, and I would pay to get extra work to do to occupy my free time. The best part: I didn't have to pay people to do their homework for them, they would pay me.

At first, I just did small favours for people in my classes. A worksheet there, some textbook work there, but my reputation spread throughout the school like the flu. And like the flu, it made couch potatoes of kids who caught it. With me to do their homework for them, they could spend more time watching telly or playing football, or whatever it was they somehow liked more than schoolwork.

As mythology of the 'homework angel' spread, I began to get anonymous requests from upperclassmen. Worksheets were shoved through the slit in my locker (which had been fixed recently, much to Ben's chagrin and Sebastian's delight) with notes telling me which locker to drop the completed work into. When I dropped it off, I'd leave the bill attached to it. People were so desperate to get out of work I could get an entire pound out of them for one little worksheet with twenty maths problems.

Some people even wanted me to write their English essays for them. These requests were more complicated, since most of them required knowledge of a book they'd been reading in class that I was most certainly not going to read just for a stranger's essay. If I was to complete such a task, the client must provide me with a summary of the novel and important quotes they wanted included. If there was one thing I hated, it was thumbing through a book for quotes. The price of an essay was also higher: two pounds a page. At first, I didn't think I could get away with such a steep rate, but nobody balked at the cost.

This enterprise made me a significant profit which I was forced to hide from my parents. They would certainly question the source of this influx of money, and they wouldn't approve of the answer. Nowadays, academic dishonesty policies and whatnot would stop a business like that in its tracks, but it was a different time. I hid all my earnings in an old pickle jar that I kept under my bed. When that filled up, I got another pickle jar, and then another. As a precaution, I made sure I finished a jar of pickles so I could save the container. If someone else did it, they might throw it away, and I needed more and more storage as my reputation spread.

By the end of seventh class, I'd filled five jars with coins and notes. My parents had grown slightly perturbed by the rate at which we consumed pickles, but they were blind to the real reason behind it. I'd learned that people's first instinct was to deny the possibility of any atypical cause of a problem. All UFOs were military planes or pranks, all Bigfoot sightings were just standing bears or people in costumes, and Nessie was just misshapen driftwood. These explanations were far more pleasing to the typical human than consideration of the supernatural. Because of this, I could get away with a lot of nonsense people didn't suspect a ten-year-old was capable of. I hid beneath the facade of my youth.

However, as years progressed, the age discretion between me and my classmates grew insurmountable. Everyone around me shot up at such an alarming rate, I felt like I was shrinking. Some seemed to grow half a meter in a single summer. Not only that, but other things were changing as well. The dynamic between my male and female classmates shifted almost imperceptibly towards awkwardness and basic friendships became less common. The first rumours of people 'dating' each other surfaced during eighth class, and grew in numbers with every passing month.

I'd held out a secret hope that this phenomenon would somehow pass me and Sebastian, but I was proven wrong on the first day of ninth class. Sebastian had spent that summer in Australia, and I was absolutely ecstatic to see him again after an incredibly long couple months.

"Sebastian! How was it Down Under?" I asked enthusiastically.

"It was great! I got to pet a koala, but it smelled really weird," he stated. I could tell immediately that something was different. I knew his voice better than I knew anyone else's in the world, and this was not it.

"Did you pick up an accent?" I questioned. That must be the explanation.

"No. Why?"

"You sound different."

"Maybe I do, I can't tell. What's important is that we get another year ruling this roost!"

I decided to abandon the topic since Sebastian was evidently oblivious to this drastic change, but the issue never vacated the back of my mind. His voice was inexplicably deeper, like a grown man's instead of a boy's. I wondered if he was getting over a cold and was still hoarse, or if this was a permanent adjustment. I then remembered the contents of a lesson we were given in health class, and it finally dawned on me that Sebastian must have hit puberty over the summer. We had so much in common that I often forgot I was three years his junior.

I didn't like the idea of an adolescent Sebastian. That just gave him more in common with all the hare-brains in this school, and it left me on the other side of a great rift. It would be at least three years before I reached a similar stage of physical maturity. We'd draw even more strange looks when we were seen around school together if he looked like a real teenager and me a little boy. I looked more like a member of seventh class than my fellow students in ninth, and teachers who didn't know me often asked if I was in the right place.

This judgement motivated me even more to prove myself intellectually superior. I needed to show anyone who doubted me that my young exterior contained an absolute genius. I studied harder than ever in addition to completing my quota of clients' homework, to the point where I was hard at work from the moment I got home from school to dinner time. I'd asked my mother to start buying the jumbo jars of pickles so I didn't have to use so many small ones. They were still oblivious to the small fortune residing beneath my bed. I could have put it in the bank, I knew how to open an account and everything, but I didn't completely trust a bank. Knowing what I did about government and crime, my money wasn't perfectly safe. I could guard it better than a federal facility.

The courses we were allowed to take in ninth class were much more challenging to my delight. I actually had to pay attention to my maths teacher for the majority of the class. Of course, I still understood everything he said the first time around and could easily complete the practice problems, but I could no longer zone out and expect to do well on exams. Everyone else needed theorems and rules repeated several times for it to sink into their thick skulls. Sebastian and I often told rude jokes to each other about our particularly obtuse classmates.

Fortunately, despite his physical advancements, Sebastian still treated me as his best friend. He had acquaintances among the other children, but he didn't spend half the time with them as he did with me. I felt that he knew subconsciously—or maybe consciously—that I was the best possible influence for him. He consulted me for many decisions he had to make in his life, and generally heeded my council. Except for that one time.

I have a very important question to ask: what is the significance of Sebastian's locker combination? I'll be pleasantly surprised if anyone actually knows, as it's a very minute detail from the Empty Hearse (that's your hint). If you're right, you're an incredibly dedicated fan and I will shower you with praise and admiration. Good luck!