BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
Henry woke up with a tiny groan. He opened his bleary eyes to see Howie's alarm clock. 5:30 AM glared at him in bright green letters. Howie complained loudly and smacked at the alarm clock. Undeterred, the alarm clock continued its electronic crowing.
"Fuck off…" Howie grumbled and got up onto his elbow. Unfortunately, when he went to paw at the giant button on its top that would plunge them into merciful silence, he knocked it over. The screaming electronic fell on the floor beyond his reach. No cord plugged the alarm into the wall that he could pull. "Motherfucker," Howie hissed under his breath and dragged himself out of bed.
Henry, wide awake now that the beeping had thoroughly drilled itself into his head, threw off his covers and got up as well.
The beeping ended.
Biting back a yawn, Henry grabbed the neatly folded clothes on top of the chest at the foot of his bed. He looked back at Howie who was messing with his closet. So, Henry went into the bathroom first.
Normally, Henry would take a shower. Every other morning, he was supposed to take a shower, but only on Saturday was he supposed to wash his hair, and Wednesday he was supposed to just rinse some conditioner into it to keep it clean. Still, Howie always took first shower. Monday was shower day, especially since it was the first day of school. Dad Reginald got mad at him when he tried to ignore shower day. So, Henry poked his head out the door. "Howie?"
"Sure, li'l buddy," Howie said with a dismissive wave of his hand, head resting on the door jamb of his closet and eyes closed.
Henry, slightly confused that Howie would ever agree to anything without hearing its terms, said, "Thanks?"
When Henry got out of the shower, Howie was still in the same place, his breaths light and even. Henry patted his arm. Howie jerked awake. "Whazzup? Huh?"
"Um, it's the morning."
"Righ', righ'. Thanks." Howie grabbed his morning outfit and dragged himself into the bathroom.
Henry pulled his backpack from under his bed and checked it over. All of his school supplies were inside and none of his shiny bobbles or accessories. Those were kept further under his bed in a pillowcase.
Henry pulled his backpack on and sat on the bed, waiting patiently for the shower to stop running. When it did, and Howie emerged from the bathroom, he was standing straighter and his eyes were brighter, and his hair still had a slight sheen. Although he bit his fist to hold back a yawn, he greeted Henry in a clearer voice. Henry opened the door and led them out into the hallway. While quite a few crew members went home to their families, there were still many crew members who slept in the airship. Dad Reginald, Uncle Right, and Mr. Thicc were among them.
Henry whispered, "It's a good thing you remembered to change your alarm."
Howie shook his head. "Nope. That was my adopted father, Mr. Rich. Probably figured he could sleep in a while. Why we don't jus' rent an apartment or somethin' nearby fer the weekdays and wake up at a godly hour Ah jus' don't know."
Henry shrugged. "My school starts at eight, but kids can come in at seven."
Howie nodded. "Same. Mine starts 'round eight. Ya reckon ever'body else is jus' waitin' 'til seven ta wake up?"
"Henry? Howie?" Dad Reginald's voice took their attention as they approached the cafeteria doors.
Henry smiled and waved. "Good morning, Dad Reginald!"
"Mornin'," Howie greeted.
Uncle Right came up from behind Dad Reginald, his stance a little looser than his usual self. "I 'ad thought you would still be asleep."
Howie snorted. "Ah wish. Reginald? Why are we wakin' up so early? Can't we jus' stay in Boulder City an' wait this out fer the week?"
"We had considered that," Dad Reginald said as he opened the cafeteria door and led them inside. "However, we did not want you to stay alone and we also did not want to station anyone semi-permanently in Boulder City or Las Vegas."
Howie nodded. "Yeah, guess so. But Ah gotta ask."
Henry's eyebrows furrowed. "Haven't you been here for a couple of years, Howie?"
"Yeah, but it never hurts ta ask."
They heard a rustle from the kitchen as they approached. When they opened the door, they found Mr. Thicc, dressed up and bringing ingredients out to cook. A few other people were further inside, but Henry couldn't see them.
"Huh? What are–oh, right. We have a few plates over there." Mr. Thicc gestured to the counter close to the door before going back to the pantry.
What had been prepared, Henry found with a grin, was pancakes and eggs. With a bright "Thanks!" to Mr. Thicc, Henry took his plate.
"Oh, and that box is yours, you two," Mr. Thicc called without looking back.
Two boxes sat neatly next to the plates. One was soft and light blue with cars speckling its fabric surface. The other was hard and square and beige with a horse on its front. Henry took the blue one by the handle. "Thank you very much, Mr. Thicc!"
They said their greetings and thanks and made their way to the tables. Howie, who normally sat with Mr. Rich farther away in Table Three, was opposite them on Table One today.
Henry asked, "When are we coming home?"
"Two twenty," Dad Reginald informed them. "Both of your schools end at roughly the same time."
"Okay. Thanks." Henry wasted no more time in turning his attention to his breakfast. Why did he have to eat proper this morning? It always took longer. But even earlier in the morning, Henry suspected Dad Reginald would not be lenient. Oh well.
They arrived near the schools at 6:45, giving them plenty of time to walk the rest of the way. Howie waved them goodbye about halfway there and took his own route to the high school. Henry watched him go but didn't say anything. Howie was a teenager and went to high school, so it only made sense that he walked to school on his own.
When they arrived at the middle school, there weren't too many students or cars in the parking lot. Still, Henry tensed up and stuck closer to Dad Reginald's side again. Suddenly, he asked, "Do I have to?"
"Yes, Henry. It's important to get an education," Dad Reginald reminded him.
Henry took a deep breath and, holding the straps of his backpack tight, glanced back at Reginald, who nodded and gestured to the growing throng of kids. "Remember, Henry: there is nothing about school you can't handle. You are a sharp boy and will grow into a brave and clever man. This is just one of the trials you must take to get there."
Henry gulped and nodded. "Th-thanks. Bye, Dad Reginald, Uncle Right." With that, he approached the school.
Henry took out a folded piece of paper. His classes, the times, and the room numbers of said classes were written on it. He glanced at his shiny wristwatch. 7:00 AM stared right back at him. He took a deep breath and walked through the group of kids. He was nearly to the other side when some older boys, wrestling and laughing and jeering, pushed into him. Henry fell onto his side with a yelp. The older boys continued their play, their friends whooping and chanting their names beside them.
A hand reached out, close to Henry's. The boy looked up to see another his age, a look of concern lighting up his features, his light green eyes on Henry. Henry wordlessly took his hand and the boy pulled him up. Henry could feel the crinkly material of the boy's deep green bomber jacket under his fingers as the cuffs of the too-big clothes reached his palms. "Whoa, that was a close one! Are you okay?"
Henry nodded and brushed off his clothes. Thankfully, no dust or dirt that he could see grazed his shirt.
The other boy let out a breath of relief. "That's good! I almost thought they would run you over! You're new here, right?"
Henry nodded, sticking his hands in his pockets.
"Wait… I recognize you! From Sandwich City!" Charles exclaimed.
Henry perked up.
After a short silence, Charles held out his hand. "I'm Charles. Who are you?"
Henry hesitantly took it. "Henry."
"It's nice to meet you, Henry! You're pretty new here, and I am a little bit, too. But I already know this school like the back of my hand. That means I can show you to your classes! Unless you already know where they are. Which you probably do."
Henry narrowed his eyes in concentration. He could recall the student assistant showing him and Dad Reginald and Uncle Right around the school and pointing out where Henry's classes would be. But a refresher never hurt. Besides, Uncle Right said he and Dad Reginald thought school would "socialize him." So, Henry needed to socialize. This Charles kid was being nice, so he was a good start? Slowly, Henry nodded. "Okay."
"Cool! Okay, what's your schedule like? Or, uh, your first class?"
Henry brought out his schedule. English.
Charles opened it up and looked it over. "Aaah! Okay! Yeah, come with me. Eh, you'll need to put your backpack away before class. Do you know where your locker is?"
Henry nodded. That was easy; his locker number was the same as his box number in Red Mesa.
"Good. …oooh! Look at that! You have the same PE class that I do. 11:26, fourth period. Which means you have first lunch, too. Cool! Eh, anyway, English is just down here." Henry followed Charles, his gaze flitting about the hallways as they moved, but still mostly concentrated on the boy. Charles checked the name of Henry's first period teacher and claimed Charles had her class for sixth period. Soon, they had traveled around the school, marching from English to Reading to Math, and then the Cafeteria before going to the PE room, science lab, and lastly the World Language classroom. That is, when they managed to actually find the classrooms. Charles wasn't as well-versed in this new school as he thought. But they made it to both of their classes.
Charles double checked the paper. "You're taking Russian? Why?"
Henry recalled overhearing the language when a few Toppat Clan members struggled to decipher it in a spied conversation. He shrugged.
"…I mean, good for you, I guess. I decided to go into Band. My grandpa plays the flute!"
Henry perked up and tipped his head a little.
Charles grinned. "Yep! He said that he was the best wind instrument in the band. His school always won awards. After school, he didn't go into a band or anything, but he always plays a few songs on the holidays when we come to visit. Grandparents are great, right? Yeah, most of them are super great. But I have a grandma on my dad's side who's not so great, but that's okay, because we don't visit her often." He folded up the schedule of classes and gave it back to Henry. "Anyway, it's pretty early. What do you normally do before class?"
Practice locking other peoples' lockers. Henry shrugged.
Charles hummed. "Well… class is going to start in about half an hour. Do you like any kinda computer games?"
Henry shook his head.
The other boy blinked, as if the concept of not having a favorite computer game or even a computer in one's home or access to it at school was a foreign concept. It's not like there weren't computers in the airship, but Henry always had other things he had, or wanted, to do. "Really? Oh, man! I found this really tough game, Helicopter Game. It's really fun! Want to try it out?"
The two put their backpacks in their respective lockers, holding onto their notebooks and pencils, and went to the computer lab. Currently, someone was at the far end, working on what looked like a word document. Charles hopped onto one of the computers in the middle of the room hugging the wall. Henry sat beside him, watching as the boy typed in his password quicker than Henry thought possible and, with a few clicks of a mouse and strokes of a keyboard, came to a rather simple looking screen. It was dark green with a generously large ceiling and floor of lime green. A helicopter with a rather out of place amount of detail was in the middle of the screen. Instructions on how to move the helicopter, by pressing and holding the mouse, stamped the front.
"In this game, you just want to go as far as you can without hitting any of the obstacles."
As soon as Charles activated the game to show him how it was played, the two were engrossed in the game, Charles cheering and boasting at each high score beaten and booing when the helicopter unfairly hit the ceiling or floor or one of the obstacles. Even though Charles was beating Henry at the game, or if Henry got a better score, he still encouraged and praised Henry and complained at the unfairness of Henry's defeats. Just as Henry was attempting to–and failing at–breaking Charles' high score of two thousand, the alarm on his watch let out a beep.
Briiiiiing!
The boys immediately looked up. Henry's helicopter crashed into an obstacle. Outside, the hallways grew crowded as students moved to their classes. Charles closed the browser and logged out of his account. "Ah, well, we can play more later. Actually, I know some more games we can play," he said as they walked. "Do you want to meet up at lunch?"
Henry nodded and smiled right back. Man, Charles' enthusiasm was so infectious! With a pang, as they separated, Henry reminisced on his time before. No one was quite like Charles. No one not only had as much cheer but was able to put such cheer into Henry–on accident or on purpose.
He walked straight into the classroom he was assigned. Henry stood by the door for a short time, scouting out which seat he would like. Eventually, he decided on one of the seats in the middle right. It wasn't at the back nor the front or center. But it still had a good view of the whiteboard. Unfortunately, he sat behind a girl whose ponytail spilled onto his desk.
"Good morning, class!" their teacher called, pushing away from her desk, and approaching the whiteboard in the middle of the front wall. Introductions were first, with the teacher calling out a name and requiring a student to raise their hand to acknowledge it. But little was done beyond that before diving into the first lesson.
Henry paid attention as best he could. Despite speaking English, the class dragged on and on and each note he scribbled down took an eternity to finish, especially as the adult responsible for teaching them spoke faster than he could write.
He had to do well. After all, the other students were paying attention and writing and none of them seemed lost. If Henry was smart, he would get good grades. If he got good grades, it would show that he was smart, and Dad Reginald would be proud of that. It would give Henry a good image, and so it could give him respect, which Dad Reginald would also like.
Henry nearly slapped himself as he felt his mind start to wander and went straight back to note taking.
After the bell rang, Henry had his notebook closed, mechanical pencil stuck in the rings of his notebook, and was out in the hall. He followed the path of posters and windows he remembered seeing with Charles until he was at his second class: Literature. How could they make a whole class dedicated to just reading? Isn't that what English was for? Or, for what English was? Or something?
Henry's attention span started to thin in his literature class. Thankfully, math class took his attention and he was concentrating as well as he ever could. Still, the nagging thought that lunch was coming up tugged at his mind, trying to turn his thoughts from geometry to whatever Charles had planned next. Henry hadn't played on the computer before Charles. Where he lived before, they were not only unable to afford it but unwilling to turn whatever ones they had into toys for the kids to break or misuse, and then he moved to place where he didn't need to bother with the thought. But Charles came from a family that not only had a computer but used it to play games. His family also probably wasn't part of a clan of thieves. That Henry knew of, anyway.
Briiiiiing!
Chairs squeaked and cloth snapped as children got to their feet and hurried out. Henry, carried away by the crowd, made his way to his locker, where his lunch box waited for him. He tossed his notebooks into the locker, locked it, and hurried to the cafeteria.
"Hey! Henry!"
Henry turned around. Charles turned his walk into a run as he met up with Henry. "Hey! Oh, you brought lunch from home? Cool! I didn't. Uh, I could show you where I normally sit, first. In case you don't want to stand in line with me."
Henry shook his head.
"I was hoping you would say that." Charles chuckled and ran toward the front, hurrying to get into line before the disorganized crowd behind them took shape enough to block them. "Whoo!" he puffed. "So, I wanted to ask. Um, where did you come from? Oh, wait, um, if you don't want to answer, that's okay. I came from Missouri. We lived near Kansas City for two years. My parents move a lot, so I don't really remember where I was born. Was it California? Arkansas? Eh, I don't know. I hope we stay here a little while longer 'cause I don't think Ellie will move with us, you know? Does your family move a lot?"
Charles and Henry paused only long enough for Charles to gather his meal from the lunch ladies and usher out of the small space children filed into. Henry looked over Charles' meal. It was still better than what Henry had before, but now that Henry had what Howie called "real food," it did look a little… dull? Lifeless? What was the word for it?
Charles sat in a table some ways away from the line, near to the garbage bins flanking the outside of the cafeteria. "Henry, these are some buddies of mine. Guys, this is Henry. He's new here!"
Henry shrunk into himself as he saw at least three different people there. A set of ginger twins and a black-haired girl sat around the table. The girl smiled. "Hey, Henry! Yeah, I don't remember seeing you. Just got transferred in?"
Henry glanced at Charles, who sat down and gave him an encouraging nod. Henry sat between him and one of the twin boys. Henry nodded, but again, couldn't speak.
The girl and twins hummed their understanding. One of the ginger boys chipped in, "Ours move a lot. In fact, our families are pretty tight! By the way, the name's Konrad. This is my little brother, Calvin."
"Actually, I'm the older brother," Calvin immediately cut in.
"Mom said I was first."
"That's not what Dad said!"
"Dad was messing with you."
The girl piped up, "Konrad and Calvin are the Bukowski twins. If you hear one of them over the speaker phone, it's probably both of them and they got in trouble for fighting."
"We don't fight," said the twins at once, their voices merged into one.
Konrad hesitated and then Calvin finished, "Much."
The girl chuckled and rolled her eyes. "Whatever. I'm Joan. Nice to meet you, Henry."
Henry merely smiled back, though the action was a little crooked and awkward.
Charles grinned. "Henry's a blast! We were playing the Helicopter Game all morning!"
The trio groaned. Joan said, "You literally play that game with anyone who'll look at you for more than five minutes. Why not something like Curveball?"
Calvin chipped in, "Or Spank the Monkey?"
Konrad piped up, "–or Interactive Buddy?"
Charles pouted. "Yeah, well, there aren't many games about aircraft or flying."
Before anyone could refute Charles' statement, someone plopped down between Charles and Joan. "'Sup? Oh! Henry? Hey, dude!"
Henry tipped his head to look at her. He gave her a smile and a little wave.
"Oooh, box lunch! Me, too!" Ellie held up a lavender, floral box.
Henry's eyebrows furrowed.
"Are you asking about why my lunch box is floral?" No, but okay? "Funny story. So, anyway, I was in the bathroom. You didn't bad mouth me to the new kid, did you, Charles?"
"No!"
Henry glanced at his watch and resumed taking out his lunch–a ham and cheese sandwich with wide lettuce leaves and a few candied carrots next to it.
"Oh, you brought real food," Joan commented as she opened her bag. "Me, too! Here, Charles." She tossed an apple at him. Immediately, he caught it with a quick. "Thanks!"
Ellie brought out half a chicken breast and set it on Charles' plate. "My sacrifice, Charles."
"Thank you!" Charles responded and offered his carton of milk. She waved it off and brought out a reusable water bottle filled with dark purple juice.
"Anyway," Ellie began and looked over at Henry. "What do you have planned after school?"
Henry shrugged, looking down at his food.
"Eh, home, maybe? Bor-ing! Charles and I are heading to my place to play Smash. You seem pretty cool. Wanna join? Joan's coming, too. Right?"
Joan nodded. "Yep."
"We're not," said Calvin.
"Dad doesn't like Ellie," Konrad explained.
Joan looked at him. "Why don't you just say you're going over to Charles' place like I do?"
Calvin explained, "Because Mom always calls ahead."
"Oh. Man, your parents suck."
Konrad stuck his tongue out. "No! Our parents are military. Of course they're strict."
"Oh, yeah. My parents aren't." Joan chuckled. "Yeah, mine know I won't cause any trouble with Charles around. He's like the police guy, but cooler. Right?"
Charles grinned. "Yep!"
Henry took a bite out of his sandwich. Oh, man. What would Dad Reginald say if he knew Henry was hanging out with military kids? Well, they weren't hanging out, more like eating lunch together.
Ellie said, "Anyway, you never answered my question, Henry."
Henry swallowed the bite he'd taken out of his sandwich. He shook his head.
Charles chipped in, "I think he needs to go back home. Right?"
Henry smiled a little. Charles was… a good kid.
Ellie puffed, "Darn. Maybe next time. You're definitely coming, though, right, Joan?"
"Yep!"
Henry listened as they talked. Man, they must have such fun lives. Ellie was the heart of the party, drawing answers to her questions from everyone and suggesting fun ideas. Charles was sometimes able to bring her down to Earth, no matter how much she "complained" about it.
A sudden thought came to Henry's mind. Why did they give half their lunches to Charles? He already had lunch, right? Well, it didn't look very appetizing, so that was probably why.
Briiiiiiiing!
Now, Henry had never been a fan of PE. It's not that he wasn't active. He loved exercise! But competitive sporty games, like dodgeball, weren't always his favorite. He tended to get out first or second. He wasn't good at throwing. He was decent at dodging, but that didn't help when four kids teamed up on him at once.
Though, maybe things would be different here. Maybe kids wouldn't all team up on him. That and he had Charles, so he'd have a teammate, at least. Unless they were put on separate teams. Henry's aim was really good with his BB gun, so maybe that would help with his throwing, too?
Regardless, Henry put away his lunch box, grabbed his notebooks, and ran with Charles to the gymnasium.
PE was standard exercise. After they went into the locker room and changed into fitness clothes, something that they could wear that wouldn't affect their normal clothes, they ran laps. Charles ran by Henry, somehow as energetic as ever and not at all failing in energy like Henry, who wasn't used to prolonged episodes of intense exercise. It's not like he didn't move too much during the day, but a lot of his physical activity came from walking around the airship or city.
After the coach blew on his whistle to stop this absolute waste of time and energy, they gathered together and got to introduce themselves. Oh no. Why?
The girl beside Charles said cheerily, "My name is Cassandra! I'm in 6th grade and love to paint. I hope to become an artist."
Charles grinned and said, "My name is Charles! I'm in 6th grade and love to fly R/C planes and helicopters and stuff. I want to be a pilot when I grow up."
When a pause met his words, Henry looked around and found the coach's expectant gaze on him. "Henry?"
The boy swallowed and tried to speak, but nothing came out and he retreated into himself. Charles chipped in, "His name's Henry, and he's in 6th grade, too."
Attention was successfully diverted as they went on to the next student.
Unfortunately, they had time after introductions for more class. Push-ups and jumping jacks it was.
The coach's final whistle couldn't come soon enough. Henry, huffing and puffing, follow Charles, who had started sweating, but otherwise looked no worse for wear, to the boy's locker room.
But, hey, science class was after PE. That brought his mood right up! Half of that class was also introductions, but thankfully it was only names and just whatever fun fact they had about themselves. Their teacher didn't linger too long on Henry.
His World Language class had the most… interesting start of them.
"До́брый день. Проходи́те, сади́тесь." This was the first thing he heard his teacher say.
Henry glanced around at the other kids, some still standing, all confused.
"Good day. Come in, sit down," their teacher translated, her accent rather thick. "Come, now. Sit, sit. We have much to do."
Henry sat down near the middle left, his notebook on the desk and pencil in hand.
"First, we learn alphabet."
What kind of hieroglyphic scribbles were on the board? Henry had never seen such a thing, though the more advanced math symbols and equations sometimes looked a little like what was on the board. But he eventually understood those. Not only did she put more than twenty-six symbols up on the board, but some of the English letters she stuck under them were weird as well. Under those letters or cluster of letters, she would write a word in English and in Russian and underline a certain letter or two.
"А а" was written above "A a" with "what" below with the "a" underlined and below that and "какой" even further with the "a" underlined. "This is softer 'a,'" Mrs. Tchaikovsky went on. "Say it with me. Ah. Wh-ah-t."
Cautiously, some of the students parroted what she said.
"Whole class. Wh-ah-t."
Slowly, the entire class began to participate.
"Good. Б б." This one had two translations: "b," like "beat" or "club," and "p," like "pigeon." Why would one letter have two different ways of saying it? …well, Henry supposed there were some letters in English that did that. "C" could be pronounced like "k" or "s."
Henry jumped as the bell rang above them.
"До свидания. Goodbye. Be good, class!" Their teacher called after the fleeing students.