Gregory didn't tell his parents about the incident with the dog. When his father asked why he hadn't gotten the milk, and why Christophe wasn't with him, Gregory said that Christophe had tripped and had decided to go home. It was the first lie Gregory had ever told his parents, and it would also be the first of many he'd keep from them. He didn't like the feeling it gave him, being untruthful. It made his stomach twist and put a throbbing in his head.
He retreated to him room immediately after dinner, claiming he wanted to practice his letters. Another lie - he just wanted to lie down and think. He flopped down on his bed and gathered all his stuffed animals around him, burying his face into General Thorne and staying that way until his mother came to kiss him goodnight.
He remained awake under the covers, wondering what Christophe was doing. Sleeping, most likely. He hoped the incident today didn't make the French boy hate their troop game. It was still fun, Gregory thought glumly. It quenched the thirst for adventure he'd barely discovered he had. Now that he'd seen for himself what it was like to go out on his own, to be in charge of himself for once, he didn't want to stop. He just hoped the same was true for his friend.
xxx
The following week was boring. Christophe was apparently grounded for some reason Gregory didn't understand, so every day after school he'd be left to his own devices. He mostly moped around the house, drove his mother insane asking "why" after everything she said, and drew pictures that he smeared over with black crayon.
It felt like an eternity later that the blond finally came home to see the French boy sitting on the front lawn, stroking the neighbor cat absently until he saw the blond approaching. Gregory burst out of the vehicle as soon as it had stopped and rushed to hug his friend, explaining how horrible it had been without him. He asked about Christophe's arm and got a shrug in reply. They went up to Gregory's room and colored for a while, the blond glancing at the stuffed animals out of the corner of his eye every now and then.
Christophe caught on to what Gregory was doing and chuckled softly, putting down his green crayon and grabbing Medic from the bed. The Brit grinned in response and tossed the crayons and paper aside, making room for the remaining soldiers. He lined them up by height and sorted them into groups, explaining what each's mission would be. He saved the best job for Medic, naturally, and Christophe set off immediately into battle.
He fought a government agency (Gregory's toy chest) that was holding civilians captive. Christophe and Gregory pried open the blond's toybox, using the other soldiers to keep it open while they freed the toys inside. "Alright, move out, move out! It's going to close!" Gregory pulled the last toy free and the toy box slammed shut, earning a gasp from Christophe.
"Medic!" Both boys stared in horror as they realized that the giraffe's head was still inside the chest. Christophe tugged its tail, struggling to release the animal.
"He's done for!" Gregory shouted, clearing the rest of the troops away and walking General Thorne to the toy box. "I'll tell your wife you loved her."
Christophe made a face and laughed, stopping Medic's struggle and sighing. Suddenly he cupped his hands together and held them up to his mouth, making a noise that terrified Gregory for a moment.
"What in the world was that?!" he asked once Christophe had stopped.
"It was the sound of a dying giraffe." He shrugged and put his hands in his lap. Gregory furrowed his brow.
"How do you know that's what sound they make?"
"I don't know."
"Oh." Gregory scratched his head. "Well, then I suppose we should have a proper burial. I know how to give one. We had to bury my hamster one time because I let it out of the cage and my mum accidentally sucked it up in the vacuum." He opened the toybox and gingerly took Medic into his arms. "We have to go outside and dig a hole. Come on."
He lead Christophe downstairs and out to the backyard, sitting down next to his mother's garden. He laid he giraffe down near some flowers and handed Christophe a spade.
"The hole has to be at least six times bigger than the body. So dig deep."
Christophe glanced momentarily at the tool in his hands before plunging the blade into the ground, smiling as he shoveled out a huge load of dirt. Gregory grinned at his progress and watched him lazily. It was only a few moments later that the hole was deep enough for Medic, and Gregory lowered him inside.
"Wow, this hole's deep!" He peered to the bottom where the old giraffe lay and giggled. "Time to bury him. Would you like to say a few words?"
Christophe nodded solemnly and put the spade down, sitting straight and speaking softly in French. Gregory closed his eyes and bowed his head respectfully. He gave his own eulogy when he heard Christophe shoveling dirt back into the hole, and then the boys stood and went back inside, only to come out ten minutes later and dig the old animal back up.
"I forgot that he has the power to come back to life," Gregory reasoned, watching Christophe brush off the dirt. "Silly me."
They continued playing Troops with the animals for months, still not daring enough to go on a real mission again. Christophe's wound healed alright, though it left a small pink scar, serving as a reminder of what had gone wrong during their first mission. The brunet seemed to have no interest in playing the game again. Gregory hinted at it a couple times, but Christophe would pretend he hadn't heard or didn't understand the question, which Gregory thought was stupid because Christophe was almost fully fluent in English now. The Brit always gave up in case it still bothered the shorter boy, but he was beginning to grow bored with just the animals.
So they sat in the garden, Gregory giving toys orders and Christophe digging holes for the fatally wounded. He seemed to enjoy digging the most, and several times the blond had to tear him away from it. "You're digging more holes than we have dead men!" But there was something relaxing in watching the French boy dig. He had a rhythm to it, and Gregory often fell asleep watching him.
As winter approached and the ground started to frost over, Christophe finally started showing an interest in going on a "real mission" again. Gregory rolled his eyes in relief, and they planned to walk to a place called Stark's pond, where you could walk on the frozen water. The boys had scoffed when Gregory's mother had told them about it, but she insisted it was true and drew them a map.
Gregory held the map while Christophe watched for any sign of danger. They had seen a group of older kids near Christophe's house, but snuck by them with no complications. They got lost twice and had to ask an adult to point them in the right direction, much to Christophe's annoyance. But finally they arrived at the pond, which was deserted. Gregory pulled his coat tighter around himself and stepped closer to the water.
"It's frozen, alright." He tapped the ice with his foot and shivered. "I dare you to stand on it."
"Alright." Christophe hesitated slightly before stepping onto the frozen water. He stomped lightly and grinned. "I'm standing on water!" He moved further away from the land and got enough courage to slide around on his shoes. "Come on, Gregory."
"I'm not sure. What if it's not safe?" The blond looked suspiciously at the ice, putting more weight on the foot resting on it.
"If it wasn't safe, your mother wouldn't 'ave let us come." Christophe slid over to him and grabbed his wrist. "Now let's go."
The Brit put up a struggle and gasped in fear as he was pulled all the way onto the ice. He gripped onto Christophe as tightly as possible, earning a laugh from the brunet. "It's not funny, Christophe. What if the ice breaks and we fall in?"
Christophe stopped in the middle of the pond and shrugged. "I don't think it will break." He stomped on the ice, eliciting a shriek from Gregory. "See? You worry too much."
"I have good reason to," the blond retorted. He let go of Christophe, though, and tested out his balance. He took a step forward, then another and another before letting himself slide on the ice, laughing. Christophe joined him, taking running starts before jumping and landing not so gracefully onto the ice. The last time he tried it the ice cracked a little, so the two scurried off the ice and hit the ground laughing.
After calming down, Gregory brushed off the snow that had accumulated on his coat and leaned on Christophe's shoulder. "It's nice out here."
Christophe nodded, growing silent. He kicked at some of the snow and stretched. "It would be a good place to run away to." Gregory froze, eyeing Christophe suspiciously.
"What do you mean, run away? You don't mean that." He crossed his arms, angry that Christophe would even bring up such a thing.
The brunet shrugged. "I'm not saying I will. All I said is that it would be a nice place."
"Well...you're not going to, right?" Gregory huffed. "What would I do without you? You're my only friend, Christophe, and friends don't just run away and leave the other one stranded!" He thought about a word he had learned recently in school. "That's very selfish."
"I said I wasn't, alright?" Christophe furrowed his brow and took a step away from the blond. "It was just a comment." He kicked angrily at the snow and turned away.
Gregory's expression softened. "...Alright. But...you've thought about it?"
There was a long pause and Christophe sighed. "Yes. I 'ave. It should be obvious why. I don't want to live with 'er forever, Gregory." He turned back toward the blond and Gregory reached out a hand, placing it on his shoulder. Christophe leaned close and whispered in the blonde's ear, as if someone might be listening, "I don't think she loves me."
Gregory's heart dropped at the words. He felt tears prickling at his eyes and stuttered, "O-of course she does, she's your mum. Just because she doesn't act like it-"
"Non, she told me," Christophe interrupted, not looking the least bit upset. He seemed so much older suddenly, in Gregory's eyes. The look in his eyes and the stoic expression made him seem a thousand years older, like he had lived for decades and had experienced the world for a century instead of just five years. "She said that I shouldn't 'ave ever been born. She tried to get rid of me, when I was still in 'er stomach, but she couldn't finish."
Gregory felt a tear slide down his face, not understanding anything Christophe was saying, but understanding everything at the same time. Christophe frowned, giving Gregory an annoyed look, and the blond quickly wiped the wetness away.
"I think she should 'ave finished," the French boy muttered, and Gregory had slapped him before he had even fully processed the sentence.
"Don't talk like that!" he shouted, shoving Christophe to the ground. "You have just enough purpose to be alive as I do! Just because your mum- just because she-" He wiped tears from his face and immediately felt bad, looking down at Christophe's blank stare. He knelt down and hugged him tightly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hit you." Christophe shook his head and curled his arms around Gregory's back.
"It's okay," he muttered.
"No, it's not. You know it isn't." Gregory took a deep breath and wiped his face on Christophe's jacket, wetting the thin material. "Just...please don't talk like that."
"But it's 'ard." Christophe ran his fingers through Gregory's hair absently, not knowing what else to say. "I can't help it." The blond pulled back and kissed Christophe's cheek, slightly pink from the slap.
"Well, you should try." Gregory took another shaky breath. "It's not going to help, and you have me. One day we can leave and travel around the world and go on real missions, but we can't go yet. Just hold on for a little while longer, okay?"
Christophe sighed in defeat and nodded, smiling grimly. "Okay. If we make it that long."
"What do you mean if we make it that long?! Of course we will! If I can lead us through all those troop missions, I can get us through an angry mother. Don't you trust me?"
Christophe rolled his eyes, smiling. "Of course I do. Idiot."
He wiped at his cheek where Gregory had kissed him.
"Even though you are an ugly crier."
Xxx
Gregory was practicing writing his name with an orange crayon when Christophe pushed open his bedroom door. The blond smiled and finished writing the 'y' before turning to greet the boy. "Hello, friend."
"'Ello." Christophe was cradling Medic in one arm, using the other to remove excess dirt from the filthy creature. Gregory's mother had sighed for a long time when she'd seen them bring the giraffe into the house. She hadn't said anything, however – just rolled her eyes and went back to her soap opera.
Gregory put the orange crayon back in its respective spot between the red and yellow one. He hummed part of a song about rainbows before hopping out of his chair and addressing Christophe. "What do you want to do today?"
The brunet shrugged and tossed Medic onto Gregory's bed before climbing up himself and sitting. "I saw a film last night and there was something called a fort…it was like a…I don't know what it's called, but..." he trailed off.
Gregory perked up. "A fort? That sounds like fun! How do you make one?"
"It didn't say." Christophe raised a shoulder and dropped it again. "But I was thinking about it last night in the bath, and I think all we need is some chairs and a blanket." Gregory thought about it and nodded.
"Okay, let's go downstairs and use the chairs in the dining room. My mother won't mind." Christophe nodded and jumped off the bed, loosening the tightly made blanket on top and tugging it off. The two ran like madmen down the hall and stairs, laughing in excitement as they neared the dining room.
"Boys?" Gregory's mother called.
"We're playing in here now, Mum!" the youngest Thorne answered back. He pulled a chair away from the table and heard a sigh from the other room. It seemed she was always sighing, but Gregory figured that's what all mothers did. "Does your mum breathe like that, Christophe?" The French boy made a face as if annoyed, and Gregory shrugged to himself, pulling out another chair. "How should we put the chairs?"
"Like this." Christophe pushed the chairs so they were a few feet apart and facing each other. "And another one 'ere." He positioned a third one between the chairs before picking up the blanket. "And now we cover it." Gregory helped him pull the blanket over all three of the chairs, which took a while and resulted in one of the chairs being knocked over. There had been another long sigh from the living room and Gregory had chuckled quietly.
Finally the blanket was successfully draped rather haphazardly over the trio of dining room furniture and the two admired their handiwork before Christophe lifted one edge of the blanket up and crawled inside. "What's it like in there?" Gregory asked.
"Get in 'ere and find out, silly." A small hand appeared outside the fort and lifted the blanket up. Christophe's tan face peeked out and he brought his other hand to his mouth. "Ze area is 'eavily guarded."
Gregory glanced around suspiciously before moving down to his stomach and army crawling into the fort. "It's very dangerous, yes. But I believe we have what it takes." He mirrored Christophe's position and peeked under the blanket. "Any minute now she'll wonder why we've gotten so quiet…" It took a few boring minutes but finally the TV in the other room was shut off and Mrs. Thorne called out for the boys. The two quickly ducked back into the fort and suppressed giggles, holding their breaths as they heard the sound of Mrs. Thorne's flats hit the linoleum.
"Boys?" A pause. Gregory squirmed closer to Christophe, heart beating fast like this was a real life or death situation. Christophe had both his hands covering his smile. Their eyes widened as they saw her glittery beige shoes through an opening in the fort. "Hmm…where could they be?"
They held their breaths as her shoes walked closer, and let it out when they turned and went somewhere else.
"Well, they're not in here...maybe they..." Her shoes disappeared and Christophe let out soft chuckles. Suddenly Gregory felt a hand on his shoulder and heard a loud "boo!" in his ear. Both boys screamed and scrambled away from Mrs. Thorne, who had snuck behind the fort and ambushed them. She quickly caught them, however, and pulled them both close to her until they calmed down. "Normally, I would make you my prisoners of war, however, I'm in a good mood today, so I've decided to let you join my army instead. And look! You already have a mission." He shifted Christophe so she could reach into her pocket and pull out a folded up piece of paper. "This-" she put it into Christophe's hands, "is a very secret note that I'm trusting you two to deliver to Mrs. DeLorne." The French boy furrowed his brows and Gregory groaned.
"Aw, but Mum, that mission-"
"I could always find someone else to deliver it, if you feel you can't handle the mission."
"Non! We will take it." Mrs. Thorne smiled and released the two.
"Very well. Good luck, and see to it that you wait for her reply, and deliver it back to this base."
The five-years olds quickly ran outside, eager to fulfill this new task. And because they were, in fact, young children, and not war veterans, the first thing they did was open the note. "What's it say?"
"Uh...I don't know. I haven't learned to read yet."
"Oh." Christophe stared at the cursive letters in curiosity. "Your mother 'as messy letters."
"That's what happens when you stop going to school," Gregory said matter-of-factly, folding the note up and shoving it into his shirt pocket. "Now let's go, we've got a mission to do."
They crossed the street, Gregory still feeling a rush of adrenaline at the dangerous act, and walked the four houses down to the DeLorne residence. Christophe opened the door and called out into the meticulously clean house. His mother shouted back from the kitchen.
"Let's go." Christophe took Gregory's arm and led him to the room the French woman occupied. She was sitting at the table, reading, and glanced up when the two entered. Christophe took the note from Gregory's pocket and handed it to his mother with a few soft words.
Mrs. DeLorne looked surprised at the note and unfolded it before taking a long time reading it. Gregory fidgeted a bit, growing bored, while Christophe stood still, watching intently as his mother read the note. Finally she set it down on the table and hummed. "Christophe," she spoke, and then motioned to the living room while speaking. The boy nodded and went into the room, leaving Gregory to stand there by Mrs. DeLorne, smiling politely while he waited for his friend's return.
He didn't have to wait long before the brunet returned with a sheet of paper and a pen. He set them down in front of his mother and asked her something. She frowned and shooed him away, scolding him and motioning to the living room again. "Come on," Christophe sighed, grabbing Gregory's arm and dragging him out of the kitchen. "She won't tell me what it says. She said to wait 'ere until she's finished." He huffed and threw himself onto the couch. Gregory joined him, swinging his feet.
"It must be really top secret, then," he grinned.
Christophe shrugged. "I suppose." The two waited in silence until Mrs. DeLorne entered the room and handed Gregory her reply, folded neatly into a perfect square. They raced back to Gregory's house, only stopping on the blond's insistence that they look both way before crossing the street.
"Mum, what's this note say?!" Gregory asked before even giving her the piece of paper.
"Patience, Gregory," she chuckled. "It's written in French, I have to translate it first." She went to grab her French-English dictionary while the boys sighed in frustration. They were right on her heels when she returned, book in hand.
"What did the note that you sent say, Mum? Did you write it in French or English? Mrs. DeLorne was reading it for a long time, and she wouldn't tell us what it said!"
"Settle down, love, I'll tell you after I've finished reading this, alright?" She sat down on the couch and got to work with the note and the book. The boys joined her, Gregory almost on her lap and Christophe sitting on the floor at her feet, humming a song and playing with the laces on her shoes. After a short while she set the book down. "Alright. I sent her a note asking if she'd like to come over for dinner this Friday, because there's something I want to talk to her about."
"What about?" Gregory interrupted.
"Is it me?" Christophe asked simultaneously.
"Yes, it's about you, Christophe, dear. At the beginning of every school year, Yardale has a lottery where they give scholarships to students to attend the school."
"...What does zat mean?" the brunet asked, embarrassed. Gregory patted his shoulder to let him know that he had no idea what half those words meant, either.
"It means that if your mother decides to sign up, you may be able to go to school with Gregory next year. Your mother wouldn't have to pay for anything, and I'm sure she'd be okay with you catching a ride there with Gregory everyday."
"Oh...what did she say?"
"She said she'd be happy to come over for dinner. Now, until then, not a word about my plan to her, alright, Christophe?"
"Is that a mission?"
"...Yes."
"Okay, I will not tell 'er." Gregory beamed, excited at the prospect that Christophe might be able to go to school with him. They'd have so much fun together!
"This will be top secret!"
xxx
That Friday, Gregory's mother was running back and forth through the house, shooing Gregory and his father away every time they tried to enter the kitchen. Mr. Thorne and his son decided to hang around upstairs and steer clear of the wrath of the woman.
"Why's Mum all crazy like that? It's just dinner."
"You know how she is; she loves throwing parties, and this is the closest thing to one we've had since we've moved here." Mr. Thorne chuckled and peeked down the stairs at his wife. "I think she's hoping to befriend Mrs. DeLorne - she does miss her friends back home."
Gregory didn't see why anyone would want to be friends with Christophe's mother, but didn't say anything. Instead, he engaged his father in a game of "troops", but the older man wasn't as good at it as Christophe was. Finally, there was the sound of the doorbell, and Gregory was racing down the stairs before his father could even stand up.
"They're here!" he called out unnecessarily, as his mother was already opening the door and welcoming the DeLorne's inside. Christophe's hair was combed down and away from his face, though as soon as his mother wasn't watching, he ran a hand through it and messed it up again. The brunet then smiled at Gregory before walking over and whispering complaints about his mother.
Mrs. Thorne announced that dinner was ready and the group migrated to the kitchen, where delicious smells met them. The five sat down at the table and Gregory's mother passed the food around. Mrs. DeLorne didn't take much food onto her plate, and Christophe followed her lead. Gregory thought this was odd because usually when the French boy ate lunch at the Thorne house, he piled as much as he could without raising question.
"Does your mum know English yet?" Gregory whispered almost inaudibly in Christophe's ear.
"She only knows a bit. She is taking classes, I think." The brunet glanced at his mother quickly before continuing. "She is very slow to learn."
Dinner went on well, if not a little awkward. The two women made slow conversation, chattering about pointless things, in Gregory's opinion. He wondered when they were going to get to the main conversation topic. Christophe seemed to be wondering the same thing, too, as he kept staring at Gregory's mother until Mrs. DeLorne noticed and gave him a sharp glare. Finally, Mrs. Thorne cleared her throat and leaned toward the French woman, smiling gently.
"Mrs. DeLorne..."
"Is Claudine."
"Claudine," Mrs. Thorne smiled. "Yardale, Gregory's school, has this scholarship every year that allows that students there to attend at no cost and...I'm sorry, I'm speaking too fast..."
There was a long, awkward moment that Christophe's mother spent trying to apologize for her lack of understanding, while Gregory's mother tried to tell her it was no big deal. After a while, Christophe sighed loudly, getting the attention of everyone. "May I explain it?"
Mrs. Thorne gasped and broke into a grin. "Oh, of course! You can be our translator, Christophe, dear." And so Gregory's mother started over, speaking slowly and pausing often so Christophe could think over the words and relay them to his mother in French. "I think it would be good for Christophe, it could help him make friends and learn more English, but it is only a suggestion. I'm not trying to tell you how to raise your child or trying to put down your choice of home-schooling him."
Christophe seemed annoyed at having to translate that part, but he did so dutifully, and Mrs. DeLorne nodded slowly before speaking.
"She says it is nice of you to think of me," Christophe monotoned, growing bored. He played with the table cloth as his mother continued to speak. "She...I don't know 'ow to say it in English, but I think she says she is glad you told 'er about it."
Gregory resisted the urge to sigh - this was taking so long. Why couldn't she just give an answer already? Why did adults have to waste so many words instead of saying what was important? He snapped out of his thoughts when Christophe shifted beside him to hug his mother before turning back to Mrs. Thorne.
"She wants to do it."
The next half hour was spent giving Claudine the details of the scholarship and the dates of important meetings she would have to attend, and details about the school, which the woman seemed pleased about. Christophe was invited to stay the night, and Mrs. DeLorne left for home shortly after.
The two boys played up in Gregory's room, the blond chattering non-stop about Yardale and how fun it would be to have Christophe in his class. The other stayed quiet for the most part, only speaking up to ask Gregory to explain more about certain topics. When it was time to go to sleep, Christophe grabbed Medic and crawled underneath Gregory's bed, pulling a blanket down with him.
"Hey, what're you doing down under there?" The blond got on all fours to peek under at his friend.
"I always sleep under the bed. It's dark." He snuggled deeper back to prove his point.
"Aren't you afraid of the dark, Christophe? Haven't you ever heard of the boogeyman?" Gregory frowned, deeply perplexed and in awe of Christophe's bravery.
"Yes, I 'ave, and I really do not see any reason to be afraid of 'im." Gregory felt a shiver go down his spine.
"But...but he eats kids! He drags you into the closet or under the bed and into the netherworld and he cooks you in his giant oven!" The Brit hugged his knees as he recalled all the horrible stories he'd heard at school about how some of his classmates' siblings had been taken away by the Boogeyman, never to be seen again. "You don't want to be eaten! Please come out from under there, Christophe."
"Why? I sleep under my bed all the time, and I've never seen 'im. There are worse things to worry about, you silly idiot." Gregory furrowed his brows and was about to retort back when Christophe crawled out from under the bed, Medic held limply in his arms. "But, since you are going to be such a baby about it, I will sleep with you on your bed. 'Appy?"
"I'm not a baby..." Gregory pouted, but didn't push the matter further. He was just happy and relieved that the French boy wouldn't be entering any ovens anytime soon. Furthermore, he'd never seen anyone so brave, save for his parents. It was hard not to admire Christophe; Gregory wished he could be as brave as him.
The Brit slept near the wall, feeling safe behind Christophe, who slept with his foot hanging over the edge of the bed, much to Gregory's amazement. "Night, night, Christophe."
"Night, Gregory." The brunet was already falling asleep.
"Will you teach me French tomorrow, Christophe?"
"Mmhmm..."
"'Cause I really want to learn it," Gregory explained. "I'm sure I'll learn it fast. Faster than your mother's learning English."
"Mmm..."
"Then we'll be able to speak in front of my mum, and she won't know what we're saying. It'll be like a secret code."
"...Your mum speaks a little."
"Oh, yeah...but not a lot. You can teach me words she doesn't know."
Christophe yawned. "Okay."
"And I'll be able to know what your mum's saying, too."
"Gregory," Christophe mumbled. "Go to sleep."
xxx
The holidays passed, which meant Gregory was out of school on break, and was able to spend more time with Christophe. The brunet taught him a few words and phrases in French, which was only fun to say around Mr. Thorne, who didn't speak any French at all.
Christophe even taught him all the cuss words, but Gregory chose not to say those, especially not in front of his mother.
When Gregory returned to school in January, Christophe and his mother rode along with, and Mrs. DeLorne was given a tour of the school and signed up for an orientation for the scholarship.
"How long until Christophe can come to school for real, Mum?" Gregory asked before entering his classroom.
"Well, if he's accepted, he'll have to wait until September, when school starts up again after summer."
"Will he be in the same class as me?"
"It depends. He may have to go to kindergarten, but if he places high enough on the entrance exams, he could be in the same grade as you."
Hearing that, Gregory made it his mission to teach Christophe as much as he could in the hopes of the boy making it into the first grade with him. Every day after school, he helped Christophe with what the boy already knew, and taught him the new things Mrs. DeLorne wasn't teaching him. There were a few days where Christophe didn't feel like learning anything new, already having been home-schooled by his mother all day; there were days he didn't want to do anything for unspoken reasons, but Gregory could always see the reasons why. It seemed like Mrs. DeLorne wasn't striking her son in noticeable places as often anymore, but there was still the odd bruise that would appear under his eye or on his arms, or he'd wince while sitting down, or complain about his head hurting.
The Brit made it a habit not to ask too many questions about it - Christophe would get angry and yell if he pried too much. However, the days the French boy did want to learn, he participated actively. He wanted to attend Yardale even more than Gregory wanted him to - and with good reason. Gregory found out that the only book Mrs. DeLorne taught Christophe with was the Bible. And from what the Brit had been read from it, he knew that it wasn't nearly as interesting as the books his parents and teachers read to him.
So Christophe studied hard (when he felt like it), and advanced along with Gregory. Spring passed, and the snow started melting as Summer slowly eased its way into the town. Gregory was let out of school for the summer, and they went on more "missions" now that they had so much free time on their hands. The brunet boy practiced digging deeper and deeper holes near Stark's pond – both his and Gregory's mother had forbid him from digging in their backyards anymore.
He was getting quite adept at it, too. Gregory had watched him dig steadily into the ground for three hours one day, and the French boy had managed to carve out a small tunnel that they spent the rest of the day relaxing in. This became their regular play spot, cleverly hidden behind a bush so that when the other kids in town came to swim in the pond, none of them ever discovered the tunnel. Christophe added to it from time to time, shoveling dirt out whenever the urge struck him.
After a long hot summer, it was finally nearing the time to return to school. The day of the one-year mark of Gregory and Christophe being friends, the Thorne's and the DeLorne's piled into the Brit's car and drove the long drive to Yardale.
There was already a large throng of parents and students outside the school, all pushing past each other to get near the front of the building where several stressed out counselors were handing out the rooms and teachers for the students. Gregory's mother took one look at the crowd and sighed wearily. "Why don't we wait a bit for some of the people to leave."
"Agreed," Mr. Thorne said immediately. He wasn't one for large groups. "We can sit over there under that tree." They wandered over there and the parents sat while Gregory and Christophe chased each other around. Mrs. DeLorne was constantly looking toward the school, a nervous expression on her face. All the conversations the Thorne's tried to engage her in never went very far. Finally, most of the crowd had left, leaving only a few concerned parents talking to the school officials.
"Well, let's go and get your papers, Gregory," Mrs. Thorne called. "And Claudine, let's go see if Christophe was accepted." Christophe had taken the entrance exam at the beginning of summer, and he said he felt he'd done well, but he was only five-going-on-six, so Mrs. DeLorne couldn't really trust her son's words.
However, it would seem that the young boy's feelings were correct, because when she asked if there were any papers for Christophe DeLorne, an official pulled the sheet of paper from the top of her pile and handed it to the stunned woman.
"Oh, congratulations, Christophe!" Mr. Thorne exclaimed, glancing over Mrs. DeLorne's shoulder and reading the details of the paper. "It looks like you'll be in the same classroom as Gregory this year."
The boys gasped loudly before cheering. Gregory wrapped his arms around Christophe in a bear hug, and the brunet briefly hugged back before gently pushing him away and tugging on his mother's skirt while motioning to see the paper. She gave him a fixed look before sighing and handing the paper to him, explaining it in her native tongue.
Meanwhile Gregory turned to his parents and did the same, asking a million questions about what classroom he was in and who his teacher was.
After a while, the five headed back to the car and drove back to their small neighborhood, Mrs. DeLorne immediately whisking Christophe back to their home with plans to go school shopping.
Gregory's mother was going to put that off as long as she could, so the trio of Thorne's went to go prepare lunch in their own home. The only thing Gregory could talk about was how excited he was to finally have Christophe come to school with him. He couldn't wait to show the French boy around Yardale, and introduce him to the few friends the blonde had, and help him with their homework.
It was going to be great.
xxx
The first day of school came too soon in Mrs. Thorne's opinion. While she was relieved to get a break from her six year old, she always did get emotional whenever she had to part with him for more than a few hours.
Christophe's mother, on the other hand, didn't even bat an eye as her son climbed into the Thorne's car. She just watched from the doorway, turning and going back inside as soon as the car door shut. Christophe himself seemed to be in a foul mood, but that was eventually changed as Gregory started chatting excitedly.
Mrs. Thorne vaguely listened, more interested in pondering the actions of Mrs. DeLorne. In the end, she supposed it wasn't any of her business, and that there were just women out there that weren't as emotional as she was.
Nearly forty-five minutes later they arrived at the school, and she could already feel the tears welling up as she pulled into a parking spot. The two boys burst from the vehicle as soon as she opened the door, and Gregory nagged at her to hurry.
"Oh, calm down, we're not going to be late." She led the two boys into the school, once again grabbing a map and attempting to navigate the halls of the maze-like structure. She had a bit more experience this time, however, and found the classroom after ten minutes. She noticed Christophe had begun to walk slower and kept close to her. She put a hand on his shoulder and he flinched briefly before glancing up at her. She frowned momentarily but quickly replaced it with a warm smile. "Don't worry, Christophe, you'll do fine today. And Gregory surely knows this place like the back of his hand by now."
The French boy nodded, and relaxed a bit, but there was still a little uneasiness showing on his face.
The two first graders lined up next to the other six-year-olds, awaiting their teacher. Most of the kids were chatting excitedly with each other; there were a few who were standing away by themselves; and then there was a huge, red headed boy who was entertaining himself by pinching another, smaller boy.
Gregory made a mental note to stay away from the larger boy, and turned to talk to Christophe. The brunet had his eyes locked on the bully, a frown set on his face. "Christophe?"
"Hm?"
Gregory opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a cheery voice from the front of the line. "Alright, students, that's enough tomfoolery, let's line up single file."
"That's our teacher," Gregory whispered, and Christophe nodded, eyes following the large boy as he walked by to get to the back of the line. "It's best to stay away from boys like him, Christophe. He's a bully."
The kids all filed inside the room, finding their names written on nametags on the desks. They were set up into groups of four, two desks facing each other, and two side-by-side. Gregory located his desk at the front of the room, much to his delight. He glanced at the other names in his group, and grinned widely when he realized Christophe sat across from him. "Christophe! You're right here."
The brunet gave a small smile, seeming relieved, but it was short-lived as the redheaded boy from earlier plopped down right beside Christophe. Another boy sat next to Gregory, and the teacher clapped her hands to get the class' attention.
"Alright, boys and girls, the first thing I want you to do is get acquainted with your group. Take turns introducing yourself to the three others next to you."
The class immediately became full of chatter again, and the large boy spoke first, louder than was necessary, in Gregory's opinion. "My name's Mason, and I rule this school. Last year, I was the toughest kid in kindergarten, and this year, I'm going to be the toughest kid in first grade. Anyone who gets in my way goes down. Got that?"
Well, he seems pleasant, Gregory thought, rolling his eye internally. The other kid at their table began to speak. His name was Thomas, he liked sports, disliked girls because they had cooties, and had an older sister who was mean to him. This one seems nice enough.
He decided he would go next to spare Christophe. "My name's Gregory, and I like drawing and playing outside with my friend-"
"Why do you talk so weird?" Mason interrupted, giving him a sideways glance. Thomas looked between Mason and Gregory, getting nervous, while Christophe narrowed his eyes at the redhead.
"It's just how I talk…?" the Thorne boy had never really been asked that question before. He'd always thought it weird how Americans talked, but he'd been taught not to question the way anyone talked, no matter what they sounded like. "My parents talk like this, so I learned it this way?"
"Well, it's weird. I don't like it."
"Well, that sucks." Christophe crossed his arms and tilted his head, staring directly at Mason. "Just shut up and let 'im finish."
The bully took a few seconds to think over what he'd been told before glaring at the DeLorne. "You talk funny, too. And I don't really like being told to shut up."
"Christophe, please…" Gregory muttered, trying not to make any enemies the first day. Though he did admire his friend's courage, he wasn't sure this would end well.
"Fine, then I'll go next. My name is Christophe, and-"
"I don't like you."
"I don't like you," Christophe snarled. Gregory glanced over at the teacher, hoping she'd be able to interfere if things got too crazy. She was across the room, giving tissues to a kid who missed their mommy.
Mason reached a hand out and pinched Christophe, who immediately stood up and raised his fist. A frightened cry from Thomas got the teacher's attention, and she gasped before storming over. "Just what is going on over here? Sit down, young man."
Christophe obeyed, lowering his arm and turning his head away, glaring at his desk. "Nothing is 'appening, Miss. We were playing."
Mason raised an eyebrow in confusion before nodding slowly. "Yeah, playing."
"Well, we don't play like that in this classroom. Don't let me catch you doing that again."
She walked to the front of the room, deciding to formally start class, and Gregory let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. The rest of the morning went by without any drama; Christophe ignored Mason, opting instead to actively participate in his first day of school.
Recess came after a few hours, and Gregory immediately lead Christophe to the back of the giant field the first, second, and third graders had to play on. "Well, how are you liking school so far?"
"It…is interesting." Christophe smiled, glancing toward the playground and spotting Mason on the swings.
Gregory frowned. "Mason's not someone you should make mad, Christophe."
"Oh, 'e's just a kid, Gregory. And 'e was making fun of you. You can't just let 'im do that."
"I don't want any trouble. Besides, it doesn't bother me. Why should I be bothered that I talk differently? You talk weird, too, but that doesn't bother you."
"Non, it doesn't." Christophe shrugged, finally turning away from the playground. "But still…" He yawned before suddenly poking Gregory's shoulder. "You're it!" And he took off running, making Gregory laugh and chase after him.
Recess ended shortly after, and they began their real schoolwork when they got back into class. Christophe practiced writing his name, and then followed along in the math lesson. Lunch was after that, and the two boys sat away from Mason, and left back to the field for the afternoon recess. The large redheaded boy followed them.
"Hey!"
Gregory sighed, grabbing Christophe's sleeve to pull him away. "Come on, let's just ignore him."
"Non, let's see what 'e wants."
Mason approached them, a smirk plastered on his face. Another blond boy was with him, looking a bit apprehensive. "I wanna talk to you about this morning."
"Go on, then."
"No one's ever talked back to me before without getting a wailing, and I figured why should you be any different? So I challenge you to a fight."
Oh, no, this is bad, Gregory thought. Christophe huffed.
"What's wrong? You wanted to fight me this morning, 'member? You were gonna punch me. So why don't you do it now, huh?"
"Christophe, let's go."
"Aw, what's wrong? Is the little boy scared?" Mason taunted Gregory. The kid behind the bully laughed a little, and Christophe clenched his hands into fists. This didn't go unnoticed, and Mason grinned.
"Alright, then, come on. Recess will be over soon."
Gregory bit his lip, glancing between the two boys. "Christophe, don't do anything, you'll get in trouble."
"Aw, shut up, kid," Mason snapped. "Why don't you go play in the sandbox or something while us big boys play." He turned back to Christophe. "Let's do this."
Christophe regarded him for a moment before yawning. "Non, I do not feel like eet. Come on, Gregory, let's go play somewhere else." The Brit let himself be lead away by Christophe, turning his head back to glance at Mason, whose mouth had dropped open in shock and confusion.
"Christophe, that was so…" Gregory smiled. "You did very well back there."
"Eh, it's my first day." He shrugged. "And 'e is not worth my time."
Gregory nodded, relieved, and they played hide-and-seek until the playground aid blew her whistle, signaling the end of lunch recess.
The rest of the day was simple: the teacher read to them, taught them new songs, and they were given papers for their parents to fill out and sign. And just like that, the bell rang and the school day was over.
Mrs. Thorne was waiting outside the school for them, and pushed through the throng of parents and students to her car.
"How was your first day, boys?"
"It was fun, we learned a lot," Gregory answered, smiling.
"It was interesting."
"Wonderful! I'm glad you enjoyed it."
They took turns chatting about their day (though it was mostly Gregory doing the talking) and neither of them spoke a word about Mason. They dropped Christophe off in front of his house and waited until he entered before driving down to the Thorne home.
Gregory gave his backpack to him mother, telling her about the papers she needed to read, and then went up to his room to draw and think about the day.
He could tell that Mason was going to become a huge problem.
Xxx
Mason did indeed turn out to be a large problem – the very next day in fact. After Gregory's mother had dropped the two of them off at school, the redheaded bully had spotted them and immediately ran over, flanked by the timid boy that had joined him yesterday.
'Oh no,' Gregory thought, shifting his eyes to Christophe, who was scowling already, hands clenched.
Mason slowed to a stop in front of them, smirk present on his freckled face. "Everyone's saying that you're a chicken now, didya know that? Running away from a fight is a cowardly thing to do, even if you're running from the toughest kid in the sch-"
"Is this going to take all day?" Christophe interrupted, crossing his arms over his chest. Mason's jaw dropped open in shock and anger. His face reddened until it was nearly the same shade as his hair.
"Do you think you're funny, freak?" the bully asked, rolling up his sleeves. "You sure asked for it." He drew his fist back and Gregory watched in horror as Mason shot it forward, the fist hitting Christophe's cheek with a loud thud. His brunet friend fell backward, landing on his back on the ground. By now a group of children had circled around, yelling and pointing and calling for an adult to come.
"Christophe! Are you okay?" Gregory kneeled down next to the boy. Christophe swatted his hand away as it reached for his swollen cheek, sitting up and looking at Mason. The redhead glared down at him as if he were disgusted. Christophe smiled, standing up and dusting himself off.
"And you call yourself the toughest boy in school?" Mason's mouth dropped open yet again – he had expected Christophe to cry like all the other kids did. "My mother hits harder than that…bitch."
The ginger's face scrunched into a mean scowl. "Yeah, I'd like to see that! Why don't you go-"
"What in the world is going on here?" The throng of children parted as the playground aid pushed her way through. She took one look at Christophe's reddened cheek and began to piece it together herself. "Fighting!" She turned her glare onto Mason, who was trying to back his way into the crowd so as not to be blamed. "You're coming with me to the office, young man!"
"It wasn't me!" Mason cried, stomping his foot down. The aid ignored him, turning back on Christophe.
"And you can join him there after you've visited the nurse."
"Christophe didn't fight back, he shouldn't be in trouble," Gregory protested, earning a side glance from the French boy.
"That's for the principal to figure out." She grabbed Mason's arm before he could escape any further into the crowd of students. "Don't you try to get out of this! I'll have you know that we're calling both of your parents."
Christophe's face paled at that, and he gingerly took the playground aid's hand as she held it out to him to escort him to the nurse's office. Gregory followed them up until the stairs that led back inside the building, and he patted Christophe's shoulder before the boy disappeared into the big double doors.
The bell for school to start rang shortly afterwards, and Gregory filed into the building with the rest of his class, worrying about what would happen to Christophe. Would the principal believe that the brunet was innocent? Or would Mason snake his way around the blame and redirect it to Christophe. The thought of his friend getting in trouble for something he didn't do infuriated Gregory to no end.
He sat at his desk, glaring at Mason's empty seat before turning his attention to Christophe's. Mrs. DeLorne wouldn't be happy to be called in to the principal's office, especially given the long drive it took to get to Yardale. Gregory hoped she wouldn't be angry once she found out that Christophe was merely the victim.
He busied himself with the work his teacher assigned them, but didn't really pay too much attention. It was nearly time for morning recess and neither Christophe nor Mason had returned. Just as he was putting his things away to line up for recess, there was a knock at the classroom door. All the students hushed as their teacher went to answer it. A sixth grader spoke to the teacher, looking very important. Gregory wondered if it had anything to do with Christophe; he didn't have to wonder long. His teacher turned her eyes to him and beckoned him to come to the doorway. "Grab your things, Gregory, you're going home for the day."
"I'm going home?" he asked, perplexed. "Has something happened?"
"I'm not sure, follow this student to the office and I'm sure you'll find out there, dear." He teacher put a hand on his shoulder. "Just finish your classwork as homework."
Gregory nodded, too deep in thought to properly address her. He followed the sixth grader to the principal's office, the older boy talking the whole time about how important his job was of escorting the first grader to his destination. The blond ignored him, only coming out of his thoughts when he entered the administrative office of the school. He smiled when he noticed Christophe, though it fell when he saw Mrs. DeLorne next to him. She was talking in slightly broken English to the attendance woman, finally noticing Gregory and giving him a nod. "Come, Gregory."
The blond nodded, shifting the weight of his backpack to his other shoulder and stepping in line with Christophe as the two walked past him. "What's going on, Christophe? Why're we going home? What happened in the principal's office?"
"Your mother asked if my mother would take you home, since she is making the trip anyway."
"Oh…what happened with the principal? Is Mason in trouble?"
Christophe sighed quietly, eyes flicking to his mom before speaking lowly to Gregory. "Yes, he can't come back to school for three days."
"Oh, well that's good, at least he won't be able to bother you for a while."
Christophe frowned, looking Gregory in the eyes. "He might not bother me forever, my mother said if I get into another fight, she is taking me out of school."
"She can't!" Gregory exclaimed; Mrs. DeLorne looked back at him sternly, hushing him. "That's not fair," he whispered once they were outside. Christophe shrugged.
"Life isn't fair, Gregory."
xxx
Hi all, just letting you know I wrote this fic a few years ago and I don't really have plans to continue it but thought I would reupload it here just because. Please don't wait on a new chapter because their likely won't be one but I really do hope you enjoyed the fic this far and thank you for reading!