Authors Notes:
The extent of my knowledge on American schools comes from television and the internet, so if I have made any mistakes please feel free to correct me.
Alex stood with his fingers wrapped around the handle of the kettle as he waited for it to boil, his eyes screwed up to block out the morning light. Instant coffee, which he had always preferred to the real stuff, was spooned out of the jar and into the giant mug, overflowing a little when he poured in the water. Masses of milk finished off his wake up call, and he padded back to his bedroom with the huge mug cradled between his hands.
Today was Monday. Today was school. He had been dreading the moment for the past two weeks, doing copious amounts of research into the school from his obscenely expensive Mac. As he hopped under the shower, the door of his en suite open so he could hear the music, he cursed himself again for choosing a Mac.
Last week, Sam and Rory had smugly informed him that they had chosen cars for their moving presents. Cars! Those two got freaking cars, and all he got was a computer. A wonderful, beautiful, amazing computer, but still, it couldn't lift him up and actually carry him places. He was going to have to carpool every day for the next three months until he could ask for a car of his own on his birthday.
Uffie was still singing about driving and fucking and partying and being famous as he left the bathroom with a toothbrush clamped between his teeth, a little white foam spilling onto his bare chest.
'Marilyn Monroe is turning in her grave.' The lyrics made him wonder if he would be turning in his own grave later after committing some awful move resulting in social suicide. Sam said social suicide was the worst thing that could ever happen to a person, even worse than regular suicide where the person actually died because you were still around to be mocked.
A black t-shirt, dark blue jeans, and thick white socks were soon fished out and thrown unceremoniously onto the rumpled sheets. He held up the red briefs his mom had joked with him about, deciding that they'd make for perfect first day attire. If it was hell at least he could look down and laugh. He ambled slowly downstairs twenty minutes later, refilling his now empty coffee mug and joining a rough looking Olga at the breakfast bar. A morning person she was not.
"Morning," She barked, face buried in the paper. "Don't ask me to take you to school."
"I wouldn't dream of it." Alex replied with a grin. His mom had taken him to school a grand total of three times in her entire life. She was only awake today for moral support, by tomorrow she'd be sleeping till noon once more.
"Top of the mornin' too ya'!" Hid dad grinned, strolling into the room in his terry cloth robe, throwing an apple into the air and catching it over and over.
"Oh god, shut up before my pounding head explodes." Olga grimaced, shoving another piece of Alex's toast in her mouth and washing it down with some of his coffee.
"Where is everyone?" Alex inquired, listening for the usual morning racket that always perpetuated the New York house, finding it strangely quiet.
"They've gone," Olga replied with a frown.
"What?!" Alex panicked, checking his phone for the time but finding he still had a good forty minutes before he had to be there.
"They went to get breakfast at some gas station, apparently those disgusting holes-in-the-wall are the place to hang out." Even through her headache Alex's mom couldn't help but laugh. When she was growing up the place to be was the fabric store on the lower east side with the pancake bar in the basement.
"Nice of them to invite me," Alex grumbled in response, not really caring too much apart from the fact that he'd now either have to walk to school or convince his dad to go get dressed. He considered his options as he munched his toast and absently watched the morning news on the small TV on the opposite counter, holding out his mug to his dad for another coffee.
"Morning, sweethearts!" A high, clear voice ran through the room, sweet smelling perfume reaching three sets of nostrils and making them reel with how strong it was. Candice Montrose-Payne stood in the doorway, immaculate in pearls and a Chanel suit in peach.
"Mother!" David almost choked on his tea when he saw his mother, hastily covering his exposed thigh with the thick white robe, jumping up to hug her.
Candice was sixty five years old but could pass for forty on a good day. Today was one of those days. A female version of her son, her expertly dyed brown hair was held up in a simple bun, brown eyes glistening with their very own brand of charisma.
"What are we talking about?" Her handbag sent Olga's paper flying as she sat her thin frame down on the seat beside Alex, one hand gripping his arm to check how his biceps were doing as she simultaneously checked up on his bone structure. She was pleased with his progress since she last saw him, when she had urged him to at least do some jogging, succinctly informing him that no one liked a fatty. David had been enraged. Olga had laughed.
"How I'm gonna get to school." Alex replied through a mouthful of toast, crumbs falling onto the counter.
"Don't be so disgusting," Candice gave his hand a slap away from the butter, throwing the crumbs onto the floor for Sammy to clean up later. Olga giggled next to him as she took two Tylenol. "I can take you to school."
"Oh, thanks, but uh -" He didn't know how to tell her that he really didn't want to show up with the queen of Beacon Hills, though he doubted the teens would even know who she was, but she was kind of conspicuous in her shocking peach suit, and she would probably get out of the car and start greeting acquaintances, drawing a lot of unwanted attention.
She shushed him through pursed, red painted lips, "Don't worry about your dear old grandmother embarrassing you, Clive can take you. The doctor said I can't drive for a week after that little operation I had." A secret smile crossed her lips, she had told everyone she was getting something done to help clear a dodgy lung when in actuality she had flown down to Los Angeles for an eye lift.
"Clive still works for you?" David asked, tearing his eyes away from the sports news.
"Of course. The best help is loyal help, and Clive is very loyal." Clive was Candice's long time bodyguard/driver/butler and general 'fix it' man. He was completely devoted to his boss, who had paid him a handsome salary for the past thirty seven years that afforded him a months vacation on his own hired tropical island every year. An English expatriate who was forced into showing off his accent for Candice's friends all the time, he knew everything about everybody and could find you at the drop of a hat; he was Beacon Hills' very own Gretchen Wieners, except he was sixty years old and completely bald.
"I'd really rather just walk..." Alex tried to protest. He'd prefer being driven to school by his grandmother than arriving in a chauffeured car. He was going to look like an idiot, especially when he hopped out in his jeans and black t shirt, hardly the picture of wealth and sophistication.
"Nonsense. You should probably go," A glance at her Cartier watch – a present to herself – confirmed her thoughts, and soon Alex was being shoved upstairs with a surprisingly fit Candice hot on his heels. She tutted and made a note on a torn piece of paper for Sammy to clean the room as Alex grabbed his phone (which thankfully doubled as an iPod so he didn't have to carry loads of crap), his pad, his pen (blue and black, just in case), his pencils, rubbers, a ruler, and even a copy of The Catcher in the Rye in case he was a total freak who had to eat lunch alone in the bathroom.
"Ready." He grinned, slipping the backpack on and leaning down to give his grandmother a kiss on the cheek.
"Take this," A hundred dollar bill was pressed into his palm, "get yourself something nice for lunch." He didn't know if she was on medication or if she was just crazy, but he accepted the money with a happy grin. It wasn't like she was lacking in the stuff anyway.
Candice stayed in the doorway, watching her grandsons retreating frame as he headed for the car outside; she was glad he was bulking up slightly, the kid still looked like a bean pole, but at least he wasn't deformed or had a hunch or anything. A giggle left her lips at how superficial she was. She loved it.
"Sir," Clive nodded his head as Alex hopped over a stone to the side of the black car. Candice was of the opinion limousines were tacky, so she went everywhere in her Bently. Couldn't get more low key than this, Alex thought as the door was held open for him and he slipped into the invitingly warm car.
He had checked the weather and knew it was meant to heat up later, but the morning was surprisingly brisk. Clive gave him another nod in the mirror as they left the house and started sailing down the street.
He had to look away from the window, people were staring at the car as they drove, and he wanted to die. "Can you just drop me around the corner, Clive?" Alex hoped that using his first name would draw a certain bond between the two, making the man putty under his hands, alas, the bald, pockmarked face in the mirror gave him a slow shake of his head.
"Mrs. Montrose-Payne told me to drop you at school, so that is what I will do." Alex groaned, wishing the leather would swallow him up.
"So, how long have you worked here?" He asked after a time, wishing the entire day was just over and done with. Clive didn't reply, he just gave Alex an impassive glance in the rear view mirror before turning his eyes back to the somewhat busy roads. "Not a talker, huh..." Clive was no talker, that much was clear. Alex let his thoughts drift back to school instead, wondering what it would be like.
He didn't consider himself a snob or anything, Olga had made sure they had it drilled into them that jut because their family had a certain amount of wealth it didn't make them better than anyone else, but he still bristled slightly at the thought of a public school.
If what he had heard was true, he'd be getting a swirlie and having his face smashed off lockers all in the first ten minutes of school, then he'd probably have lunch shoved in his face and be violently beaten at the end of the day to top it all off. Being the rich kid was a stigma he didn't want to live with, especially when his mom and dad weren't even that rich.
Okay, so they were pretty rich, but it wasn't like they lived in a mansion. Sure, aunt Helen lived in the crumbling family estate, occupying only one of eight bedrooms, while Candice resided in a huge, airy seven bedroom colonial mansion, but he didn't live there! He lived in god damn suburbia, with a police officer on one side and a contractor on the other!
"I want to die." Alex buried his face in his hands as he realised he had arrived at school at the exact time that everyone got here. The place was packed, kids everywhere, looking odd to him in their own clothes when he was used to a blazer and tie, a few staring over at the Bently.
"I'll park next to the most expensive car, Sir." Alex couldn't help but laugh as he realised Clive had some humour in him, pulling up next to a little Porsche with a – Alex couldn't help but notice – very attractive guy lounging on the door with his eyes focused on his phone.
"Thanks." He muttered, gathering his bag and starting to get out,
"I will collect you at three thirty, yes?" Clive said, seeming to have appeared from nowhere on the outside of his door, making the whole thing even more awkward as people looked over at the ancient man holding open the door for Alex. One girl even pointed, actually pointed! He wanted to cut off her fingers, or maybe something less twisted than that.
"I'll ride back with Rory, thanks though." He turned, forgetting that Clive hadn't met his brother yet, "Rory's my -"
"- Brother." Clive finished for him, face impassive. "Eighteen years old, red haired, and a sportsman." Clive did know everything about everybody, after all.
"Oh, well yeah. See ya." Alex didn't know how he was supposed to say goodbye to a driver, so he just gave him an awkward wave and turned around to walk into school, going head first into the Porsche owner as he turned around.
"Watch it!" The other teen bristled, checking that his clothes weren't dirty as he regained composure. A biting comment about being thrown out with the trash was about to leave his lips, but then he noticed that this kid was the owner of the fantastic Bently he had seen driving in, too engrossed in his phone to realise it was parked right next to him, until now.
"Sorry," Alex said testily. He might have been nervous about coming to a new school, but he wasn't about to be pushed around.
"Dude, nice wheels." The guy grinned, running his hand across the shiny black surface, a curt cough from a sentient Clive making him back off. "Is this your granddad?" He extended a hand, hoping to curry some favour with this kid so he could check out if he had any other sweet cars.
"Uh – no, he's, I dunno, my grandmas friend." Alex shrugged, not wanting to introduce him as a driver.
"I am Mr. Payne's driver." Clive answered for him, face impassive as always.
"Oh – okay. I'm Jackson." Jackson ignored Clive now he knew he was just some hired help, extending a strong hand to Alex.
"Alex." He replied with a nod of his head. He was dying to drop his gaze as Jackson stared him down and tried to crush his hand, but his dad had taught him the secrets of a good hand shake; a firm grip and lasting eye contact.
Jackson was happy too, maybe this kid wasn't trash after all. They fell into step together, walking by the 'Beacon Hills High School' sign and inside the building. It was a flurry of activity, more than Alex had ever seen. And it was so colourful, all the people making up thousands of rainbows against the backdrop of open lockers, their contents adding to the activity. His prep school had been all dark, stoic and quiet, all the boys clones of each other in uniform, but here was something new all together. Jackson was talking to him about cars; Alex wasn't an expert, but he knew enough to save himself from looking dumb as Jackson spoke, headed to registration.
"I gotta go to the office and sign in and all that," Alex told him, turning to go down a different hallway. Jackson thought for a second before he called out to a retreating Alex,
"Join us at lunch, yeah?" Alex almost gagged, a lunch offer was the golden ticket he needed. He'd make friends, not be alone, and this guy seemed pretty nice. A little arrogant maybe, but he was being friendly enough.
"Yeah, okay," Alex looked around as the bell went, his words carrying over the sea of students to Jackson, "I'll just find you!" He had to shout at the end, he was being forced along at an alarming rate. Jackson gave him a nod and a slight smile before his face returned to its usual pout and he walked away.
He was grinning like an idiot by the time he arrived at the reception, going through a long huff and puff over his timetable and map of the school. By the time he set off for his first class the halls were abandoned save a few stragglers. He felt like an idiot with the map in his hand, but the school was a maze of halls and stairwells, he needed it. Room 412, AP English Language. It was one of the few AP courses he was doing, and mainly because of his one vague idea of a career; being a writer.
"Ah, the late comers." The teacher looked up from the passage he was reading and gave a dramatic sigh. A few students giggled, while most everyone turned to stare at Alex. He wanted to die, but he forced his head to stay up, his eyes baring into the teacher in what he hoped was an apologetic gaze.
"I'm new – I had to register." Alex waved the timetable in his hand through the air as if it was a get out of jail free card.
"I suppose that's a good enough excuse."
"Where shall I sit?" Alex looked around the room, seeing a few empty seats here and there and panicking. What if he sat next to someone horrible, or, even worse, someone who smelled horrible.
"Sit next to the boy you think is the cutest." Alex almost had a heart attack as he registered his teachers words, shocked laughter erupting from the rest of the class. He was glad it had been ice cold in the office and his cheeks were too cold for the blush to penetrate the skin. "No, I'm joking, this isn't Donnie Darko." A few students, Alex included, got the reference and snickered.
"Cellar door." He muttered, grinning as he followed the teachers fingers to the seat he had pointed to in the third row, between a grinning boy and an equally grinning girl. A quick smile passed over the face of – it was written on the board – Mr. Porlin, and he seemed to warm up to Alex. One point to Donnie Darko for helping make his teacher like him.
"So, A Tale Of Two Cities..." The teacher began as Alex fished out his pen and paper and got to work.
The day had been a blur so far. Surprisingly, the lessons had actually been real lessons. At his old school the first day had always been a slow introduction to the new year, usually full of talking and maybe a movie or two. No such luck at Beacon Hills High, he was worked to the bone, especially by Mr. Porlin, who he had for AP Language and AP Literature, and had taken a special shine to Alex, always drawing him into the discussions. It was a good job he had read A Tale Of Two Cities last year at school, else he'd be miles behind everyone else.
He almost had a panic attack when he walked into the dining hall and as assaulted by hundreds upon hundreds of teens, all clustered in groups talking amongst themselves, backs turned away from those they didn't know. Any karmic powers that existed in the world were given a silent prayer as Alex scanned the room for Jackson, finally spotting him on a table of eight that only had four people on it.
Jackson had noticed Alex as soon as he walked into the room, but he wasn't about to start shouting across the room for him to join them. He gave a slight wave when Alex locked eyes with him and began ambling through the crowd.
"Hey," Alex gave a small smile to the three strangers and Jackson as he sat down next to a bored looking girl wearing almost as much gloss as his mom had been wearing when they first moved into town.
"Yes?" The girl looked to him, her eyes wide and questioning.
"I invited him," Jackson explained, giving the girls hand a squeeze. She relaxed somewhat, returning to her salad with another bored look. "This is Lydia," He nodded to the girl, "Danny," The boy on his left was given a playful punch on the arm, "and Scott." He gave a rather strange glance to the guy opposite Alex, his brow furrowing for a second.
"Nice to meet you." Alex gave everyone a perfunctory nod, talking to them for a few seconds before he headed off to actually get something to eat. He left his bag on his seat, Jackson had told him more people were joining so he had better save a space, and Lydia had giggled something about wannabes trying to take his spot.
He had no idea what was happening as lunch progressed, a girl joining Scott after a few minutes, who was probably the most friendly one there after Danny.
"So why did you move here?" Danny asked as he chewed on some very unappealing stew creation.
"Oh, my aunt got sick so we came back for, like, moral support. My dad grew up here." He gave them a shrug, hoping he didn't have to launch into a cancer conversation at his first meeting with these kids.
"That's nice," Allison gave him a smile, explaining how she had been the new girl last year. He felt a little better when she told him about how nervous she had been at the start of the year, especially because she was held back for moving around so much. Alex wondered if she had leaning problems. It didn't seem like it judging by the AP Chemistry book underneath her lunch tray.
"Coach is so damn annoying," A somewhat familiar voice reached Alex's ears, looking up and recognising the teen who was approaching, though he couldn't quite place where from.
"Just get better at lacrosse and coach will give you an A." Danny grinned.
"It's not my fault I don't have the natural skill of people like Scott here." The words were laced with sarcasm, but Alex didn't get it.
"This is Alex," Allison explained as the new arrival sat down right next to Alex.
"We're old friends," The guy grinned as the others exchanged a confused glance.
"We are?" Alex asked, looking up to join in with the passing of confusion over the table, feeling his heart jump a little at how this was already some kind of inside thing. He knew he was being dumb, but it was hard not to be happy when he actually had some friends.
"I live next door. Stiles." Stiles gave him a huge grin, and suddenly he remembered the mud coated guy from next door he had met on his first day. He had almost forgotten about the guy.
"You live next door?" Scott questioned, looking from Stiles to Alex.
"It was after that night, you know – when you ruined all my clothes."
"Aw, is your bromance going to the next level?" Jackson joked, smiling straight back into Scott's glare. Alex had no idea how Scott could have ruined Stiles' clothes and coated him with mud, but each to their own. It not like he was in a position to judge someones sexual preference.
"Jackson, we all know you tried to tempt Danny boy with a video of you... pleasing yourself. So zip it." Alex choked on a leek as he snorted, looking over to see Danny squirming in his seat.
"Is that true?" Alex asked with another grin as Jackson shook his head and threw a pen at Stiles.
"No. I was looking for – uh – something else. Forget it." Alex thought he wouldn't mind seeing a video of Jackson 'pleasing himself', but he kept his lips shut. The grin wouldn't leave his face as lunch continued, they didn't leave the table for the entire duration, sitting there as the place thinned out, leaving their empty trays in front of them and talking amongst themselves. It was all lacrosse talk and strange hints about the woods that Alex didn't get, but he joined in when he could, hoping he had passed whatever trial period he was in.
"I have gym," Stiles groaned, joining the boys on one side of the hall as Allison and Lydia walked in another direction.
Alex fished out his timetable and glanced down the sheet, "Oh, me too." Double gym, last thing.
"Everyone has gym now." Jackson frowned, leaving Alex out of his glare – he would let the guy off for now, the cars still had to be checked out.
"They don't." Alex said in defence, waving back to Allison and Lydia headed into a Physics class a few yards down the hall. Jackson gave him a glare.
"You don't have a kit. Well what am I supposed to do about that?" The coach, one hand on his hip and the other holding a clipboard, asked as Alex stood in front of him, empty handed.
"I'm new." He held up his get out of jail free card once more in explanation, and was directed to a bin full of dirty old t shirts and very dodgy looking shorts.
"Payne," He almost missed the t shirt that sailed through the air, he wasn't used to being addressed by his last name. Jackson gave him a nod, "you don't want one of those."
"Nasty." Danny agreed, slipping out of his jeans and shirt.
"Thanks," Alex smiled, joining the boys on the bench after finding the best looking shorts he could.
He reflected about how strange gym class was as he shrugged out of his shirt and stuffed it into a locker he had been instructed to use. It was strange that he never seemed to get turned on when he was getting changed in a room full of guys, it wasn't like Jackson wasn't good looking, the guy was built, but there was something so clinical about a locker room, it almost made him straight.
"What's this from?" Alex shivered slightly when he felt a finger tracing the scar in his back, turning to face a very almost naked Danny.
"Lay off the guy," Jackson grinned, pulling shorts up over his jock, "Danny here is looking for a new boyfriend."
"Just when I fell over as a kid." Alex explained through wide eyes, letting out a breath as Danny retreated. At least he didn't have to worry about being gay bashed or anything. "Shit," Alex shot a glance left and right as he undid the first button of his jeans and remembered what he was wearing. The slut underwear.
"I can be first line again!" He could hear Stiles shouting in the distance, drawing a few glances from the other boys. Now was as good a time as any to quickly change. He pulled down the jeans and whipped them off as fast as lightning, glancing up to see a a boy give him a frown as he took in the red briefs.
"Fuck," The bulge created by the wonderjock – which he had bought as a joke, his best friend from home had dared him to walk around Central Park in nothing but the underwear – was obscene in just the tiny black shorts, which hadn't looked so short and tight when he first picked them up. He looked like there was a sock stuffed down his crotch.
"Looks like someone's excited," The coach laughed as he looked over at Alex, causing a few boys to look up and grin.
"Oh ha-ha." Alex retorted, trying to find his t shirt so he wasn't so exposed any more. Hopefully it would cover the bulge somewhat. He found the thing slung over Jackson's shoulder in the mirrors, grabbing it off him and sighing when he saw it was a little short, a small layer of skin exposed above the waistline of his shorts; he was a few inches taller than Jackson.
"Looks like we have someone who likes to show off," Coach began as all the boys stood around him. Everyone was in a t shirt that was a little too big so they wouldn't get sweaty, and shorts that fit as they should. Alex thought he looked like a go-go dancer or something, it made him want to die. "You can show off on the field. If you're good, I'll let this little outfit disaster go. Hell, if you can keep up with the likes of McCall and Whittemore you can play naked for all I care."
"What about me?!" Stiles protested as the boys snickered around him. Coach just gave him a lingering look and a shake of his head.
Beacon Hills was all about lacrosse, Alex soon found out as he ran up and down the field, thanking the skies and anyone who would listen for not giving him the fat gene, if he was wearing this outfit with flab hanging all over the place it would be even worse than it already was. In fact, it wasn't that bad, it was something to laugh about, something to talk about with the other guys in gym with him, and with Jackson by his side he seemed to be a pretty hot commodity, quickly working out that he was the typical popular jock guy.
Danny gave him pointers on how to impress Coach Finstock, urging him to ignore Jackson and Scott, who he couldn't keep his eyes off. It was almost unbelievable how quick they were darting up and down the field, laughing and grinning without even needing to catch their breath. He didn't know if the Cyclones bred superhuman lacrosse players, but these two would have slaughtered everyone at his old school.
His try-out (it was unofficial, but Alex knew coach was watching him like a hawk to see if he'd found a new star player) wasn't a disaster, but it wasn't great. Alex was quick, that was true enough, but he couldn't get the hang of catching that dang ball with his crosse. Luckily there was no contact as of yet, he was just being tested on how he could catch and throw, having had no chance to change into padding.
"Come on, Payne! You're quick, work on catching, it's not hard!" Flinstock shouted across the field. Alex could throw well enough, he had decent upper body strength, but catching was just a no go. No matter how well Jackson set the pass up Alex would miss almost every time. The few times he caught the ball he easily lobbed it through a very uncoordinated Danny's goal, wondering why the guy kept staring at him with his mouth hanging open.
Danny, in fact, couldn't take his eyes off the treasure trail of dark brown hair that kept appearing when Alex raised his arms into the air to try and catch the ball, the hidden muscles that at first glimpse you would never have noticed straining as he moved. Not for the first time, Danny reflected how hard it was being gay on a team full of jocks.
"Okay, I've seen enough of this train wreck," Coach grunted, waving Alex over, "go home and work on catching until your knuckles bleed." Alex gave him a frown, "If you can improve that you could be a good player. Everyone knows a good player can have a few skills pulled in economics." Flinstock grinned, nodding his head as if he'd let Alex in on a huge secret.
"Uh – okay." Alex shrugged, being on the lacrosse team would be better than struggling through economics, that much was for sure in his eyes. The assistant coach waved him over to talk about trying out for the track team, which Alex was far more interested in. He was good at track, at least he wouldn't have to work so hard, plus it would make good old Candice happy.
A few boys muttered words of encouragement, Danny offered to help with his catching – a pretty generous offer, he was a goalie after all, Jackson made plans to come round and visit Alex's house, a guy named Greenberg (who was sporting a nasty looking pink eye) joked with him about Coach Flinstock, and Stiles grumbled about how the new guy had almost stolen his spot on the team as they headed back into the locker room. One again Alex found himself grinning like an idiot, everything was going so well; if you didn't count the evils he was getting from Stilinksi.