Author's Note: I actually got this one done on time! Yay! I don't think that this one really needs a headcanon update: just be sure to read the last two chapters, and everything'll be fine.
Once again, thank you so much to thebookhobbit! She's a super awesome beta!
Picture: Labeled as the "Sixth Grade Class" a group of about thirty kids, all in uniforms, with two nuns standing on either side. John is in the front, and is so much shorter and younger looking, since he's only seven, that it's a little comical.
John sighed as he got up to go stand in line. Class picture day… there was no question where he'd be standing – even the next shortest kid was at least a head taller than he was. But the two sixth grade classes were combining, so for now they were in alphabetical order, as always.
John had been in the third grade the past school year, but, as per what John was scared was becoming the usual, he had taken another series of tests a few months into the year, and then another several months later, and after his mother had talked with Father Isaacs – a conversation that he still wasn't present for- they had told him that he'd be going into the sixth grade. The sixth grade… when Evelyn was back in the second grade.
They'd only seen each other in passing during school; in the halls sometimes, or from across the cafeteria during lunch, and John wasn't ashamed to admit that he was pretty miserable without her. Sure, John's mom still picked the two of them up after school, and so there were a few hours before Evelyn's mom got off of work that they could see each other, and of course there were always the weekends, but Evelyn was the reason that John had really liked kindergarten… and she was still his only friend. He wasn't good at making friends… there had been one or two people in third grade, and now in sixth grade, that were nice to him (or at least they didn't make fun of him) but most of the other kids seemed to be irritated by the fact that a seven year old was in their class… and that he was getting better scores than they were. Or if they weren't irritated, then they were indifferent, and he avoided talking to them if he could help it.
John winced as the girl behind him in line stepped on his heel, and fortunately she noticed him this time:
"John, I'm sorry!" she apologized quickly. "I guess I'm just half awake and I…" she trailed off, but John knew what she meant.
"You didn't see me, I know. It's fine, don't worry about it." He didn't want to make her feel bad about it, she was one of the tallest girls in the school, and he was one of the shortest, so it only made sense that she'd step on him if she wasn't paying attention. That was the issue with lines.
They'd set up risers in the cafeteria, as usual, and once they were all there, the nuns started pulling the tallest children out of line, motioning them to go stand on the top level of the risers.
"John!" he heard his teacher call out sharply. John startled quickly before he realized that she wasn't yelling at him - there were about three John's in his class, himself included. "It doesn't matter who's taller! Just stand on the riser where there's room!"
John sighed to himself, this could take a while. At least they had a light day today; if there had been any tests, he would have been a little frustrated. He'd tried to make at least a semblance of a friend in this class, since he'd see them again at least for another year, though if what he'd heard under the door of Father Isaac's office during another post-test chat with his mom was anything to go by, he'd be in eighth grade next year. But he'd probably see them in the halls; and they had several math options for seventh graders, though John figured they'd put him in purely eighth grade classes, if their excited tones were anything to go by. Why wasn't he included in these talks again? They couldn't logically think that he wouldn't get what they were talking about; he wouldn't be in sixth grade right now if they thought that. The only logical thing that John could think of was that adults seemed to have it wired in their brains that they needed to talk down to children; and therefore John couldn't possibly make a rational input about whether he wanted to go into eighth grade next year because they were the adults and they knew what was best for him. John sure did hope that God really did have a reason that all of this was going on… he didn't get why it would be happening otherwise.
"John" this time his teacher's tone was much gentler, and she was actually talking to him. "Deep in thought again? Come on, we're almost ready."
John hurried to take his place, and his teacher smoothed the front of his shirt for him. He liked his teacher; she was very aware that she had a seven year old boy in her class, and that he was different socially from the others… which meant that any group work was done with the two kids that were nice to him, and that his group stayed that way, even when the other's changed.
"Alright, stand up straight, give me a smile… there! Your mom will be happy with that" she grinned, and stood in her place next to him.
The photographer took about three pictures (John was certain he had eye damage, and was determined to look it up as soon as he got home) and then everyone scrambled to get back into their lines, and back to a normal day.