Sticky

Meanwhile, George "Sticky" Washington was having his own set of problems – romantic and otherwise.

As he'd mentioned to Reynie on the phone before, school was awfully nerve-wracking this year. After all, his experiences with education were not the most positive, seeing as he'd once been forced by his parents to compete in quiz shows, ultimately driving him to run away; and the other time he'd been at "school" there had been the constant threat of being brainwashed or electrocuted with shock watches of "Executives". All in all, it made perfect sense that he should feel some apprehension.

Unfortunately for Sticky, who was notoriously fidgety by nature, being surrounded by all these people was not the most appealing of situations, but he was a bit stuck in it, seeing as that was basically what it was like at university. To make matters worse, there was a girl involved, and Sticky's only girlfriend had broken up with him for remarking on her pulchritude (she took offense, thinking that it was an insult).

As Sticky stumbled down the hall on his second day, heading to the art room, he ran into her.

"Oh, hi," she said in a friendly voice, smiling encouragingly at him.

"Hi," he squeaked out "Where are you going?"

Casting him a slightly questioning look, she gestured. "Um… pottery? We're in that class together."

"Right, right, I knew that," he stammered, tripping over his shoelace.

"So, how did you get to be named 'Sticky'?" she asked, once he'd returned to walking like a semi-normal person.

"Um, well, I know a lot, and it all sticks in my head, hence the 'Sticky'."

"Cool!" she said. When he didn't say anything in response, preferring to stare bashfully at the ground, she extended her hand. "By the way, I'm Cleo."

He shook it, hoping fervently that his hand wasn't sweaty. "I'm Sticky. Wait, you already knew that. I'm sorry. What I meant was – well, I – "

"Hey, it's okay," Cleo said, looking in amusement at him. "We're all nervous on our first day, and I don't even go to this school normally."

"Why do you come here, then?"

"Oh, I don't usually," she replied casually, flicking her auburn hair back into a ponytail. "But I'm really interested in art, sculpture and pottery in particular. Well, really sculpture, but pottery was the only thing that actually fit into my timeframe, so that's what I have to do. I take the bus back to high school after class, unless there's lunch next, and I usually stay for that too."

Thankful that she was doing most of the talking, Sticky nodded, beginning to relax a little. At this point they'd reached the classroom, and she followed him in.

"Here, sit next to me!" She patted the stool next to her and Sticky took a seat. The teacher entered the classroom, balancing an oversized mug of green tea and clumsily-wrapped slab of clay.

"Hi, class," she said, tossing a gigantic key ring into the table. "Sorry I'm late; my car wouldn't start. I'm still getting to know your names so I'm afraid attendance will be a little slow today. To mix things up, I'm going to start at the bottom of the list." She glanced down at the smudged paper in her hand. "Also, in case you forgot, my name is Miss Andalus but you can call me Andi.

"Anyway, here we go. Um… George Washington?"

A wave of titters spread through the room.

"Here. And it's Sticky," Sticky corrected.

"Right, right, sorry!" She scribbled something next to his name, then moved up on the list. "Cleopatra Valentine?"

Unabashedly, Cleo raised her hand. "Just call me Cleo," she said, and shot a glare at one of the guys who was whispering something rude to his deskmate.

"Got it." Andi took a swig of tea, then moved onto the next kid.

"Your name's Cleopatra?" asked Sticky in awe.

"Yeah, didn't you figure that out yesterday?"

"No, I was, uh, late," he said, trying not to remember how lost he'd been in the beginning. Of course, now that he knew his way around the school, it was stuck in his brain, but the first day was rough.

"Well, it is," Cleo said, smiling. "And I don't mind if you make fun."

"No, not at all," he said, having found yet another thing he respected in this girl. "Cleopatra was deeply inspirational… a great beauty… really, quite astounding… her legacy…" His voice trailed off as he realized he was rambling but to his surprise, instead of turning away, Cleo was listening intently.

"You know a lot." It was a statement, not a question. She was casting him a peculiar glance, not calculating, exactly, but… he couldn't put a name to it.

"Yes, I suppose I do. It makes me rather unpopular, I'm sorry to say."

"It shouldn't. It's cool that you know all that. Most people your age don't have a proper head on their shoulders. It's kind of pathetic."

"Um, thanks? That was a compliment, right?"

"Yeah, it was," Cleo said, grinning at his confusion. "Now shh, she's talking!"

Andi, having gone through the rest of the names, was now passing out bricks of clay and tools and giving instructions. And without further ado, Sticky dug in with gusto, figuring that at least this ought to make sense when all else failed to do so.

So what do you think? Do you like Cleo? Leave your comments! I love reviews! Also, any ideas for a super-secret mission or bad guys that Mr. Benedict might have in mind for the MBS? I love writing this but I'll only keep updating if you love reading it, so review review review! Thanks guys! By the way, you've been giving great reviews, so just keep it up haha.