It was strange to remember that law school was, still, technically on the table for Andy.
To be honest, being in an Equilateral school shouldn't have given him that bad of a disadvantage at first, at least that's what the Board had said. The first few years of school were very similar for any Shape— basic education on mathematics, specifically Geometry, of course, and a few history lessons. Making sure they understood the world around them, how it had always functioned, and how it always would function. True, Andrew wasn't being taught by the best teachers— a rotation of Specimen teachers was, of course, not the ideal way to be taught, which is why it was reserved for Shapes who wouldn't have to know much more than how to accurately count money and maybe learn a basic trade, but the curriculum for young Shapes was technically the same.
This changed, though, as he got older.
By the age of eleven, other Squares were already learning some basics of debate and analyzing the laws of their specific province. Nothing intense, necessarily, and the debates were generally over trivial things, like whether a late or early lunch was more beneficial to a student, but this mock "court" was meant to help these future lawyers understand how present and argue a case.
This was a common enough practice across the board. Equilateral children were scouted for apprenticeships in shops at age twelve to start understanding the ins and outs of the work they would be doing, Pentagons were sent at thirteen to shadow surgeons and get a feel for hospital life— the specifics were different for each profession, but each Shape started to learn exactly what they would be doing with their life before they reached any sort of higher education or entered the working world.
Nobody really realized that he was missing out until he was nearly thirteen. They just hadn't thought much about it— as far as his parents knew, he had been on good behavior, avoiding Bill and staying quiet in class, and as long as his behavior was decent, he was easy to ignore. It genuinely hadn't occurred to either of them that he wasn't being taught any useful law skills until his grandfather mentioned over dinner that someone on the Board had approached him to say that, as far as they were concerned, Andrew was on track to be an attorney, or at least they were willing to give him a shot, considering how much his behavior had improved.
It was a sudden reminder that Andrew Kryptos might actually be able to make something of himself.
It was so hard to remember that, looking at him, but the moment they realized their family line might not be completely doomed, they jumped on the opportunity to mold Andy into something… acceptable, at least.
His argumentative skills were lacking, that was obvious from the get go. A lifetime of being told not to argue or ask questions seemed to have sunk in the very moment they realized that would be a detriment as an attorney.
His grandfather had decided to test the boy on his debate skills at that very dinner, which proved to be a failure when Andrew was unable to argue why he should be allowed a second helping. Somehow, the boy thought "I'm still hungry" was a convincing enough case.
The question of how they would improve those skills was still up in the air, though. He was not going to be allowed in a class with other Squares until law school officially started, that had been made clear long ago, and tutors for this sort of thing didn't really exist, as there was never any need for them. When Clarence suggested that his father-in-law could teach him, being a law professor, the man said that between his teaching position and his cases, he didn't have the time, and the frustration of dealing with such an infuriating grandson at his age would surely upset his configuration, and Clarence immediately relented.
Clarence couldn't teach him either— he worked late, and having an Abnormal child in his office would likely upset his upper-class clients, and damage his reputation. Andrew was rarely talked about amongst Clarence's well-off friends, other than the occasional mention to revel at how kindhearted the Square was for raising and dealing with such a boy, and that was how he liked it. Teaching him after school was also out of the question, he was much too tired and was entitled to his relaxation.
His mother was intelligent, for a Line, but she wouldn't have the memory or mental capacity to teach him much of anything, besides perhaps a few anecdotal stories her father and husband had mentioned about their time in court, so there was no use in discussing her as a potential tutor.
They decided to bring it to the Headmaster, to see if anything could be done. The Heptagon eventually said, after a bit of back and forth with the Board, that a few Specimens may be able to teach the boy some basic laws and debate schools after school. It wouldn't be a great education— even the Specimens teaching older children weren't particularly intelligent and any decent Isosceles had learned not to argue long ago, and Andrew's own intelligence was still doubtful, but even a few lessons from a Specimen would likely be better than tossing the boy directly into the deep end when he entered law school.
What this meant, though, was staying after school, and neither Andy or Bill was particularly happy about that.
"So how long're you gonna be staying after school?"
"L—like, how long each day, or how— or how many days?"
"Both," said Bill, kicking his legs. They were sitting outside a small textile shop, on the stoop— they'd realized a while ago that the old shopkeeper inside was too exhausted to shoo kids away, and it was situated halfway between Bill and Andy's houses, so it had become their designated rest stop after school.
"Well, um, m-my grandfather said I should start with… with two hours a day after s— after school, every day—"
"What."
"And we can go up from there. We're start-starting— we're starting Monday. "
"What."
"Yeah," said Andy miserably, fidgeting with his hands. "They think eventu— eventually, it'll be four hours a day…"
Bill stared at him. "My folks don't ask where I go anymore, but I can't stay out for four hours—"
"I know."
"I mean, two, maybe, but what am I supposed t'do, just sit there and wait for you? Every day?"
"Bill, I know. I— I'm trying to figure out how to— how to get out of it."
"Just say you don't wanna go."
"C'mon, you know it isn't that ea— isn't that easy. They're like Treatments—"
Bill started. "They are not like—"
"No, sorry, I didn't— I mean they… they're supposed to make me more… normal, like what other— other Squares are—"
"The hell are these lessons even for, huh? You're doin' fine in your classes."
"They're for lawyer stuff."
"Right," Bill drawled, still kicking at the ground, more violently now. "That. They're goin' through with making you an attorney, huh?"
"Well, Father says they'll try."
"Nice vote of confidence there."
Andy sighed, grabbing a stick and absentmindedly stabbing at the bricks in the cobblestone. "… I'm pretty… I'm pretty behind. This'll catch me up, hopefully."
"Catch you up with what?"
"I— I need to learn to argue and… gather evidence and… stuff about… laws."
Bill's eye furrowed. "'Stuff about laws?'" His tone was obviously mocking, but Andy just frowned and chose to ignore it. It was something he had gotten used to doing in his time as Bill's friend.
"Well, I dunno how— how else to describe it, just… stuff like… terms and… terms and, um, rules? Like, um, like what manslaughter is, or… loit— loitering?"
"… Manslaughter's in the name, genius. Y'slaughter a man."
"No but I need to know what… what makes a manslaughter, and— and what makes murder, so if I have a client who's— who's accused of murder I can maybe…"
"You think you're gonna get murder cases?" Bill looked at him doubtfully. "Y'know that even if you end up a lawyer, they're not gonna give you anything good. Your pops wouldn't trust you with it."
"I could!" said Andy defensively. "A— a— Line, maybe, or—"
"Sure, if she's some Isosceles' wife. Somethin' hopeless like that."
"I could win a case!"
Bill snorted, barely looking at his friend.
Andy stood up then, glaring down at Bill, fists balled tight. "I'm not stupid."
"Never said y'were, but you're sure acting like it. But y'really think people're gonna want you to be a good lawyer?" The Irregular glared right back up at him. "Y'think they're ever gonna stop meddling and waiting for you to slip up?"
"Just because you can't be anything when you grow up doesn't mean I can't!"
The minute the words were out of his mouth, he regretted it, slapping his hands over his mouth so violently it was a wonder he didn't lose a tooth.
Bill, still sitting on the stoop, just stared at him like he'd been smacked.
It was no secret that Bill hadn't been chosen for an apprenticeship. While his Irregularity was smaller now, it was constantly remanifesting, and the less malleable his sides became, the more doctors were convinced it would never be fully fixed. Despite his grades and obvious skill on the sales floor, he had been the only Triangle in his year unable to secure a mentor.
"… You really do have a big mouth, don'tcha?"
Out of the two boys, Andy looked as if he was going to cry more, and he blubbered a shaky, "B-Bill, I—"
"Forget it." The smaller Shape stood up, brushing himself off and starting home. "Have fun at classes."
The next day, Andrew was amazed how long and boring his walk home was with nobody to talk to.