XIII. Study
-—Pride is bored.
Pride sighs heavily as he slumps forward in his chair, allowing his mind to wander. Really, he has to admit that this is the worst part of playing a normal human boy… He's nearly three hundred years old; he knows how to do long division, how to calculate percentages and count change. But he had to blend in with the other "children" at this prestigious private school—he has to act like he hasn't known these things for longer than these "teachers" have been alive…
He can act as a normal human child just fine. It's irritating, yes; it's tedious and mind-numbingly boring and repetitive, yes; but it furthers his Father's plans, so that's all that matters. He can play house with Wrath and his wife, even if she is curiously attached to him. Pretending to be Selim Bradley, the son of the Fuhrer, is annoying but bearable.
Pretending to not understand fourth-grade mathematics, however…
He sighs for the umpteenth time as the girl next to him—Sally Sparrow, if he remembers correctly—raises her hand to ask yet another question. It's only long division; he doesn't understand what's so difficult about it. It's useless, perhaps, in the grand scheme of things…but laughably easy to understand. He hadn't even given it much thought before he was forced into school; it had simply been a fact of life that eight hundred forty eight divided into sixteen is fifty three. So why aren't they getting it?
Finally, finally, it's lunchtime, and he pulls his sack lunch and his bag from under the desk before heading for the cafeteria. He doesn't need to eat, not really…but people would ask tricky, unnecessary questions if he skips lunch every day, and his "mother" insists on giving him food. He and Wrath had both been confused by it, but they've chalked it up to strange human customs and don't question it anymore.
He sits at the end of one of the long tables, ignoring everyone as usual, because even if he's supposed to be bubbly and adorable, that doesn't mean he has to have human friends. He's all smiles and sunshine when someone talks to him, but it seems they have some sort of primal instinct that keeps them from really trying to befriend him.
(It's not like he minds.)
So he's ready to "politely" ignore the humans who usually end up sitting next to him anyway, digging into the paper sack to pull out carrots and peanut butter sandwich and juice box and cookies. (He has to admit that they're rather delicious.) Then, someone sits down directly opposite him. He glances up; the girl from mathematics—Sally—is there, twirling one bit of her hair nervously as she looks at him.
He waits for a moment to see if she'll say something, but she does not; he heaves a mental sigh and grins over at her, donning his (annoying, high-pitched, childish) Selim voice—"Do you need something?"
"Um…I don't really get the math, all the division," she says quickly, not quite meeting his eyes. (His disguise is perfect, of course, but people can't help but feel nervous around him anyway. He doesn't mind, as long as Father's plans are safe.) "And you looked like you got it, so I was wondering if you could help me…?"
She gives a little squeak and ducks her head as she finishes speaking (another thing Pride doesn't understand about humans. Why would they be so scared of talking to each other?), her cheeks turning pink. And he sighs, because really that's the last thing he wants to do at the moment, but he has an act to keep up…and maybe, if he tells Wrath's wife about it when he gets home, she'll stop pestering him about making friends.
(And he doesn't acknowledge it, at least consciously, but maybe she'll make him more cookies as well.)
So he nods, allowing his stupid little smile to stay in place as he pulls out his textbook. "What don't you get?" Just leave me the hell alone.
He wishes he could say this, but he can't, because that will benefit no one but his own fleeting happiness, and it will bring up tricky questions he doesn't care to answer. So he guides her through the equation, acting like he hasn't known this for hundreds of years…and finally, finally, after most of lunchtime has passed, Sally gives a little gasp because she gets it!
He barely restrains himself from heaving a huge sigh of relief. Maybe, now, she'll leave him alone so he can sit by himself and not have to use this damn voice he hates so much. Maybe he'll get a few moments of peace and quiet (something he's been sorely lacking lately), because even if his Father tends to leave him to his own devices, his "mother" nearly smothers him with attention most days until he can get away…
(He can't stand being surrounded by humans for too long. They're so weak and pathetic and useless; he feels both his intelligence and his sanity betraying him after more than a couple of hours of interaction. He wants to be alone.)
And, thankfully, Sally is standing up, gathering her papers and beaming at him, albeit a bit nervously. (Her teeth are crooked. Stupid humans, can't even keep their bodies in good shape.) "Thanks so much, Selim! I was wondering, if you're not busy on Saturday, the whole class is getting together for pizza and I'm supposed to make sure everyone knows about it…"
Oh God no. That sounds like his worst nightmare… Luckily, he's got a legitimate excuse, and even if it's stretching the truth, this human girl doesn't have to know that. "Sorry, I'm going to East City with Father this weekend."
"Oh…" A strange mixture of emotions crosses her face, something like disappointment and relief and confusion all rolled into one. (He's always found it strange that the children are more wont to notice that something is off about him. Adults don't seem to have any idea.) "Well, maybe next time, huh?"
"Sure," he says, smiling (he wants to rip her apart) as she walks quickly away. He's incredibly thankful he doesn't have to talk anymore, but he keeps up the cheerful, sunny attitude as he finishes off his lunch because anyone can be looking and I can't jeopardize Father's plans so close to their completion. So he goes back to class like a good little boy when the bell rings, sits at his desk and pretends to be interested in the lesson. It's history now—all of which he has lived through—which is even worse than mathematics…
He stops listening as the teacher goes on and on, instead looking around at all his classmates. He's never thought of what it must be like, to be so naïve and young and stupid. Ever since he was born, he's known everything there is to learn about the world; that's what Homunculi are made for. Their minds must be so vacant…
(Of course, that means it won't matter when they are consumed as energy for his Father's lifeforce. What could they possibly contribute to the world that they don't already know, after all?)
He allows a small grin to slip onto his features as he thinks of the future. The Promised Day. The fulfillment of his Father's long-awaited plans. The end of the human race…
He can't wait for all of this to be over...for good.
