The A-Z Club Chapter Four
"How old is he?" Arthur said, looking across at Jones, who was eating a cheeseburger and talking to his legion of jocks.
"Who?"
"Jones."
"Sixteen." Francis said. "You know his brother."
"Do I?"
"Matthew." Francis said. "They have different surnames. It's complicated actually. Their parents got divorced, moved away, and then got back together. You go to his Biology and Math classes to catch-up. You sit next to him."
"Do I?" Arthur said, frowning. "I forgot. How do you know -"
"They're twins." Francis continued, ignoring Arthur. "I don't know how you don't know."
Arthur shrugged. He'd decided to stay the night at Francis's place. Mostly because he couldn't find his cigarettes, and Francis wouldn't give them to him until the next morning. Francis stretched, looking more like a cat than a frog.
"I want to fuck him." Arthur said. Francis laughed.
"Dream on Kirkland. He's out of your league." Francis said.
"What the bloody hell do you mean by that?" Arthur said.
"He is your opposite. He's popular. He's intelligent. Handsome. And in the closet."
"So you agree he's gay?" Arthur said, ignoring the rest of what Francis said. Well, it wasn't like he disagreed with any of it.
"Of course he is." Francis said. "I know these things."
"You're right." Arthur says. "But that doesn't mean I can't get him."
"Want to bet?" Francis said.
"That I can get him to sleep with me?"
"Oui."
"Okay. On what terms?"
"If he doesn't want to, you have to stay with me instead of at home."
"No." Arthur said.
"No bet."
"What if you lose?" Arthur said.
"What do you want?"
"You to stop bothering me about - about home."
"Is that it?"
"I could think of something else." Arthur said. Francis didn't like the dark smile he had on his face.
"It would be more interesting, Arthur, if you were to date properly."
"What do you mean?"
"Officially date him. he comes out of the closet." Francis said. Arthur hesitated, and the nodded. It was Francis's turn to smile in a way Arthur didn't like. He was about to say something, but Gilbert interrupted his thought process with a long tale about how he awesomely trained a wild bird. Arthur had met that bird - it was a canary he'd got from a pet shop.
Alfred was still angry. He couldn't believe how angry he was.
"It's not really Arthur's fault. Mr Phillips was being unreasonable." Matthew said, sitting down next to his brother. Alfred took a fry from Matthew's plate. Matthew had given up trying to stop him a long, long time ago.
"You weren't there to listen to the pity party the...the bastard was throwing himself. I almost felt sorry for him!" Alfred says. "I can't stand him! He's. so... attention seeking and stupid and has big eyebrows."
Matthew sighed, and Alfred didn't feel as though it was appropriate for his twin to sound so parentally disappointed in him.
"You have hockey after school, right?" Alfred said, deciding not to ignore thoughts of Kirkland.
"Yes, Alfred. Every Friday evening for four years now." Matthew says.
"Well, meet me after detention. We can go to McDonalds."
"Umm." Matthew cleared his throat. "I have plans."
"Without me?"
"Yeah. Just going out with a friend."
"You have other friends?"
"Well." Matthew says. "Yes, I suppose I do."
"Who?"
Matthew's mouth opened and the closed again. He mumbled something.
"What?!" Alfred says. "Please tell me I am going crazy and you didn't just say you were going on a date with Braginsky."
"It's not a date! We're friends! We play hockey together."
"He's horrible to me." Alfred says.
"Don't pretend to be innocent, Alfred. You're my brother and I know you're not. I gotta go. Have a nice detention."
Alfred stared after his brother. It was rare when they argued - very rare. But Braginsky was where he had to draw the line. That Russian kid was a freak - Alfred's eyes had drifted away from his brother's retreating figure, and hit Arthur Kirkland, who was staring intently at him. Alfred couldn't look away. Their eyes locked - and Alfred was forced to stare him down. Like a cat or dog or spider, he had to out stare it. For like respect or something. Alfred wasn't sure. He was winning to, but Kirkland was a cheater. He draw his hand to his lips, and puckered them (it was just this moment Alfred observed how pretty Kirkland's lips were) and blew him a kiss and then winked. Winked!
Alfred didn't blush. He just wasn't feeling well and some blood rushed to his face to make him better. He had too look away, grab his bag, and leave.
Alfred and Phillips waited in the library together. Alfred had opened his mouth and Phillips had held a finger in the air, and now that sat in silence.
Kirkland came in five minutes late, and made a move to sit in his regular place.
"No. Kirkland, you're in with me. I can't trust you." Phillips said.
"Why does he get to sit alone - that's not fair. It's blatant favouritism." Arthur says, pointing at Alfred.
"Because he knows how to use his time productively and doesn't f- doesn't ... He's not a trouble maker." Phillips said.
"That's hurtful, Captain." Kirkland said, he was looking at the floor and shaking his head solemnly, but Alfred could see his smirk.
"Jones, write a thousand word essay on what you learned during your time in detention. Once you're finished, bring it to me, and if it's to my satisfaction you can go home." Phillips said, handing Alfred a couple of sheets of paper. "Come on, Kirkland." He pushed Arthur's back towards the door. Alfred watched Arthur's back stiffen, and saw the Brit clench his teeth together, but he didn't say anything.
Alfred made a couple of bad first attempts "In detention, I learnt Kirkland is a dick" may have gone down badly. But as soon as he started, he was on fire. Alfred supposed it was weird to like writing essays. They wouldn't come in useful any other time in his life. He sped through it, Alfred knows all about pandering to his audience. He put in lots about how sorry he is, and how he learnt he is responsible for his actions and needs to accept that. He finishes in just thirty-five minutes. He walks out of the library, with a bit of a bounce in his step.
"You know you're hanging from a thread Kirkland." He heard Philips say as he neared his office. "You know every member of staff in the school with happy to see the back of you. Elated, even. Heck, I bet the students would be ecstatic, too."
"Nice use of synonyms sir." Arthur mutters.
"Cut the sass, Kirkland. I don't know who you think you are. Do you care about anything, huh? You get kicked out of here, you're nothing. In five, ten years time when people mention Arthur Kirkland, half the people won't remember you and the other half won't care."
Arthur was silent. Alfred knocked the door loudly. Alfred stood in the door frame, watching Kirkland rather than watching Phillips read his essay. Arthur had his eyes closed, and was counting under his breath. Backwards from one hundred, but the looks of it and occasional near silent mutter.
"Alright, Jones, congratulations. You can home. Don't let me see you here again."
"Can I go to the bathroom?" Arthur said, watching Alfred leaving.
"No." said Phillips.
"It's just a piss, I promise." Arthur smiled.
Phillips's forehead vein pumped. Even Arthur's bladder annoyed him.
"Go. Be quick."
Arthur was thankful he only had the coat he was wearing. He didn't take books with him to school often, and his backpack was with Francis.
He ran after Jones down the hall (how had he got there so fast?).
"Oi, Jones!"
"Go away Kirkland." Alfred said, turning to look at him. He ran down the hall, catching up to him quickly.
"I want to talk to you." Arthur said.
"I don't want to talk to you." Alfred said.
Arthur followed him outside anyway.
"I wanted to apologise."
"For what."
"Getting you another detention. I didn't mean to, okay?" Arthur said. "I get angry and I don't think."
"OK." Alfred said. "See you around."
Arthur grabbed his arm.
"What?" Alfred said.
"Do you want to do something?"
"Together?"
Arthur suppressed the urge to roll his eyes and bit his tongue to stop himself from saying something sarcastic.
"Yes." Arthur said. He thought fast. "I wanted to ask you a favour actually."
Alfred stopped walking and laughed.
"I don't need to do you a favour. You owe me, remember?"
"Well, now I'll owe you double." Arthur said. "Aren't you supposed to be a nice guy?"
"I am super nice." Alfred nodded. "What is it?"
"I missed a few lessons, so I've got to go to some catch up ones with different grades and stuff. If the teachers decide I've done well enough, I can go to regular classes after the holidays."
"And?"
"And you're a straight-a student. You can help me. Maybe."
"It's October." Alfred said. "Even I'm not that smart."
"Please, Alfred. I know I've been terrible, but I need this." Arthur said. "Or maybe Phillips is right, and I am a no-good waster."
Alfred faltered, frowning. Arthur looked sad. This would look good on him - not just helping other students, but if someone like Arthur Kirkland started doing well - well, they'd give him a medal.
"Fine. Sure." Alfred said. "We can go to McDonalds and talk about what you need to work on."
"Wonderful." Arthur said. They started to walk together, and Alfred started talking at him. Arthur hid his face in his coat to hide his smirk. This was going to be easy.
Alfred could talk. And eat. He was on his second meal, third cola, and hadn't shut the fuck up. Arthur almost left three times already. But when he shut up and looked down at his little list - yes, he'd started making a list - he was adorable. Well, Arthur thought he'd be preferred to be called handsome. He was - but he put his tongue between his lips when he concentrated.
"Dude are you sure you don't want anything to eat?"
"I'm sure."
"If you don't have any cash I could -"
"No. Thank you." Arthur said, struggling to stay calm. Francis had practically forced breakfast and lunch down his throat and he was feeling sick at the prospect of eating again. He hadn't had three meals a day since he was ten. It really wasn't necessary.
"Ok. So math, you're doing good with that but you should maybe actually go to class and that help you improve. But English and history and stuff you're doing pretty bad at, and biology isn't great I -"
"Yes, I know. Rather than tell me how bad I am, tell me how to improve." Arthur said, impatiently.
"I don't think we can do all that in one evening. We could make a schedule though. Hold on..." Alfred dug in his backpack and pulled out some highlighters. "I've got a lot of practice, but I'm always free between five and seven."
"Sounds fine."
"Like, any day?"
"Yes." Arthur said. He ran his hands through his hair. Juvenile delinquency club doesn't start until ten."
"Isn't that late - oh, you were joking. Haha." Alfred said, drawing a chart. "K, we can meet after practice, and go back my house or your house
"Your house. Or here. Or at the library." Arthur said. "I don't care, but you're not coming to my house."
Alfred nodded and started filing in his chart, highlighting different subjects in different shades of neon.
"I like your jacket." Arthur said, eventually.
"Oh, this? My grandad flew planes in WW2, and this was his. It is pretty cool, right?"
"Yes Alfred, it's nice."
Alfred smiled proudly. "Yours is cool. It looks old, too. Not like, bad old, but vintage." He laughed nervously.
"It is old. My dad got it from a thrift store, years ago. Before my parents separated. I stole it before I moved here." Arthur says.
"It suits you. The green it makes your eyes look even greener." Alfred said. "I like green."
Arthur laughed. Alfred was surprised that it actually sounded genuine.
"So, does this schedule look good to you?" He said, handing it to Arthur. Arthur nodded.
Alfred packed up his stuff and they left.
"You know Ivan Braginsky?" Alfred said.
"I know of him." Arthur said.
"My brothers out with him. Like, right now."
"And?" Arthur said.
"He's bad news."
Arthur snorted. "So am I."
"I don't like him."
"You don't like me." Arthur said, sending a sideways glance towards Alfred.
"I do like you." Alfred said quietly, "You need my help."
"Maybe your brother is helping Braginsky."
"Yeah. You're right."
Arthur lit a cigarette and started smoking.
"So, you heading home?"
"No. Francis has my backpack. I'm going there and then home." Arthur said.
Alfred smiled at him, goofily.
"You're nice when you're not in detention." He says.
"Phillips gets to me." Arthur said. "I hate him."
They went their separate ways at the end of the road. Arthur was going to gloat to Francis about how his plan was already in motion, and how Francis was definitely going to lose.