Observe, analyze, test,
Adjust, and repeat.
Hide behind your science,
Little prince.
Boarding School, Week 7-8
Tony's POV
The Phase II Hypothesis was: I'll hate this place less if I can get the classes to start building and doing things.
Independent Variable 1: Get my social studies class to construct models of barracks for soldiers.
Dependent Variable 1: The students wanted to do it. The teacher refused.
Results: Told off by the teacher for disrupting the class. Loss of recess time when I continued to defend my points.
Independent Variable 2: Get my reading class to recreate survival scenes from the book The Hatchet.
Dependent Variable 2: The students wanted to do it. The teacher refused.
Results: Told off by the teacher for disrupting the class. Loss of recess time when I continued to defend my points.
Independent Variable 3: Get my writing class to write and perform a play.
Dependent Variable 3: The students wanted to do it. The teacher refused. The students followed my lead with Devin writing a kick ass play and Nick getting geared up to play the soldier and Helen chatting with Sarah about costume ideas and me pulling art supplies out of my backpack to work on set design.
Results: Told off by the teacher for disrupting the class. Loss of recess time for everyone.
This was not how science was supposed to work. The dependent variables and results were not supposed to be the constants in an experiment.
Analysis: Phase II was a bust. Time for Phase III.
Phase III
Phase III Observations: Mom's letter said I will see them at Thanksgiving. It isn't even Halloween yet.
Phase III Problem: I want to go home. Now.
Phase III Hypothesis: Runaway.
Independent Variable: Method of travel: walk, steal a car, sneak on a bus
Experiment Phase: It was fun to imagine sneaking off campus and going on an adventure to find my way home. But there were too many complications. Adults that would stop me. Not knowing if home was currently in New York or California or if Mom and Dad were somewhere else altogether. No money for bus or train tickets. Too short to press the accelerator in a car and see out the window at the same time.
Analysis: I'm stuck at school.
Phase IV
Phase IV Observations: Julie draws during math lessons. She does the work, so she doesn't get yelled at for drawing. Alex and Kevin play tic-tac-toe and some game with dots and lines during writing, but are quiet about it and only show the paper when the teacher isn't looking. Dylan holds his textbooks in has lap so he can read comic books instead. Ellis has trouble sitting still, but he sits at the back of the room, so most people don't notice him moving about. Jennifer is always getting in trouble for talking or ignoring the teacher, but only the teacher gets annoyed with her. She doesn't have an entire class pissed at her for making them lose recess. She didn't have people shoving her or calling her names for being a nerdy dweeb that was always disrupting the class, causing everyone to have homework by wasting class time.
Phase IV Problems: School still sucks. I'm stuck here. The assignments are pointless and boring. I can't get the teachers to change. Everyone is mad at me.
Phase IV Hypothesis: You can get away with more and have fewer people pissed at you if you keep quiet while doing as you please.
Phase IV Experiment: I'll read the books the drill sergeants put in my hands, but I'm not answering the pointless questions at the end of the chapters. I'm not doing the assignments they assign. I am going to do my projects by myself.
My Phase IV experiment had been at least partially working. The teachers weren't completely pleased, but they were more exasperated than angry, now. I ignored my assigned seat and found spots at the back of each room. I'd lost my personal assistant, so she wasn't there to pester me into doing the teacher's work and the teachers were too busy with the other students to pester me. As long as I wasn't disrupting the class and was working on school stuff, in my own way, they didn't steal recess time from me.
Some of the students were pissed that I got to do what I want and they had to do the boring Q&A in the books. They shoved me and called me names and tried to damage my work.
"What's up, nerd?" Kevin asked while shoving my arm. Then I heard a crunch. "Oops. Was that your arts and crafts on the floor?"
I socked him in the stomach.
"Anthony!" blasted drill sergeant number 4. "We don't hit people."
"But he…"
I was interrupted by a sniffle from Kevin who was being mother henned by said drill sergeant while spinning his own tail of woe. "I just came up to say hi to him. I didn't mean to step on his project, Ms. Treavue. Then he just punched me before I could even apologize."
Amazingly, Sgt. Treavue's head didn't seem to be full of the same fluff the other adult's brains contained. Her gaze was shrewed and her ears caught the lie. "That's a lovely tale Kevin, but it seems to be missing the parts about your greeting being unfriendly, and how high you would have had to raise your foot for that 'accidental' step on his work. Both of you will sit by the wall during recess, this afternoon, and after school."
"Yes, ma'am." We both grudgingly replied while our eyes spoke of future retribution.
At dinner, I contrived a situation whereupon I accidentally tripped, toppling my tray of mashed potatoes, gravy, chicken, peas, and a glass of milk all over Kevin's clothes.
But Kevin had patients I couldn't fathom him having. He saved his retribution for a moment with no prying eyes, adult or child, then socked me in the stomach. He ran off while I was still gasping for breath.
As my bullies and I improved our skills at hiding our attacks, we got less punishments and more recess and free time. School still sucked, but it sucked a little bit less.
I had morning and lunchtime recess with the other 6-year-olds. The recess nannies wouldn't let us play war. We had to do normal stuff like swing, seesaw, slide and spin around on the merry-go-round. Those were all fun. Make-believing you're a superhero is more fun, but the recess nannies think fantasies are dangerous and will make you sit out if your play could cause as much as a scraped knee.
All we'd done was tie jump ropes on the sides of the chains of the swings so we could connect them together to turn the swing set into a giant pirate's ship! It made it so all the swings were tilted kind of sideways and they all moved together. Then we set logs across the seats to give us planks to walk on. We gathered sticks to be our swords. We hid toys in the sandbox to be our treasure. And then we had one person designated to be a shark and if they caught you, you became shark dung and had to lay on the ground. Then the person playing the mermaid could come touch you and turn you back into either a pirate or a shark. Or a mermaid, I suppose, but I didn't understand wanting to be one of those.
It was lots and lots of fun. But armies don't like non-conformist and the drill sergeant marched down and destroyed our ship. Right when a cracken was attacking in the middle of a storm! I tried to warn her about the dangerous waters, but instead of joining in the make believe she ordered everyone on the ship to drop their swords and go sit by the wall. Adults are no fun.
The 6-year-olds looked up to me because I had classes with the big kids, so they let me lead them in games like that. But after school it was just me and the big kids and the big kids didn't want to play make believe with me. They didn't want to play with me at all.
The end of the day bell rang. We all rushed out of the room. We were allowed to play outside for an hour after the final bell. They wanted us to get rid of all our energy before they tried to make us sit and do homework and eat dinner. Sometimes I can get on a swing before they're all full or climb up the wrong side of the slide before the drill sergeants make it outdoors to put a stop to anything fun.
Today, I decided to wander over to the fence, to see if I could peak around the edge of the school enough to see the kids from my K-2 classes leave. They were climbing into cars. Jenny hugged her mom when she climbed into hers.
A tear slipped and I ran for a bush by the building and crouched down behind it. I was a baby zebra and if the lions saw that I was sad their claws would come out. I wrapped my arms around my chest, with my hands squeezing my shoulders. It was the closest I could manage to a hug. It had been months and months since I'd had a hug from Mom or Jarvis or one of my nannies. I wanted Mom.
I'd been doing my best to pretend I hadn't been orphaned. And I'd managed, mostly. Sometimes I lost it at night, when there were no lions to see. But that always hurt so much that it was easier to just push it away and focus on my projects and experiments instead.
This was the first time during the day that I couldn't hold it back. I sat there and cried and pretended I didn't hear when they called us inside. I stayed out until it was dark and snuck in while they were all eating dinner. No one had come looking for me. Either they hadn't noticed that I wasn't at dinner with them or didn't care that I wasn't there.
I missed eating dinner with Mom and Dad. I missed Nanny Christine sharing snacks with me in the afternoon, instead of making me sit at a table for lunch. I was going to cry again and I couldn't let the lions see.
I managed to get to my room without anyone stopping me. I saw my latest project…a partially completed Erector Set structure that was going to be able to turn pages in a book. I wanted to build things with Dad. Not just send him Polaroids of what I'd built by myself while I was trapped here. I didn't want to finish this by myself. I know because before I'd even finished that thought it was on the floor and I'd stomped on it, bending the metal bars, and scattering the loose parts.
I didn't want to finish any of them on my own. I shoved everything off my desk.
I grabbed one of Mom's letters and ripped it in two. I didn't want to read her letters that started with Dear Sweetheart and end with it will be weeks and weeks and weeks until we see you. I ripped another, this one harder to tear because of the photo showing Mom in London.
The other 6-year-olds got to go home to their parents every night. I didn't even know if mine were in the United States or if there was an entire ocean between us. I threw the pieces of the letters on the floor.
I stared and I felt hiccupping tears returning instead of more anger. I looked at the bed. I was tired and I wanted to lay down. I didn't want to be a big boy who had to tuck himself in for the 58th day in a row. I WANTED MOM to tuck me in.
I sucked in the tears, tugged my Captain America quilt from the bed and toted it over to the corner. I cocooned myself in it and leaned against the wall, with my back to the reminders that I was alone and hadn't had a hug in months.
When I woke up my stomach was rumbling. Let it. I didn't have the energy to move. I stared at the wall.
The Captain's blanket protected me while I sat alone. Steve Rogers went through some rough times, yet he became a respected Captain. He didn't wallow. He got up and went to work. And so would I. The best way to deal with emotional crap was to pretend it didn't exist. I got up on Monday, got dressed, and went to class.
Adult Tony
I stared at the antiquated tech, a flip phone.
We'd had a team bonding night, once upon a time. Popcorn, sofa lounging, and Toy Story 3.
Mr. and Mrs. Potato Head, the slinky dog and the cowboy were all still bonded as friends, but their leader was taking off to college. The toys had made one last attempt to be a part of his life, by putting a ringing cell phone in the arms of the toy dinosaur. The boy took the phone and left, ignoring the toys. Yet the toys agreed that it wasn't about them. It was about the boy, and that they'd be there for him when he needed them.
"The Avengers are yours, maybe more so than mine."
I wasn't so sure about that.
"If you ever need me, I'll be there."
I tuck that childhood tether, that shield, into my pocket, each and every morning.