This was Kevin Larson's tenth year teaching biology at Goode High School. The lobster was new; it was a spur-of-the-moment decision when Larson passed the seafood section of his local market one Sunday afternoon. It would do his students some good to have a creature to look after. And if it died, well, they could always dissect it.
"Happy Monday," Larson greeted his class cheerfully when he walked in on Monday morning. He was rewarded with blank apathy and a near-tangible wall of oppressive teenage angst (so, a typical Monday greeting; Larson had been a teacher too long to be bothered by such things).
"Got a surprise for us," he announced with the same level of cheerfulness and swung around to show the class the tank in his arms, a lone lobster crawling along the bottom. If he was hoping for an inspiring response to the reveal, he would have been disappointed—his students were unimpressed with the crustacean.
"There will be a mandatory feeding and cleaning schedule," Larson continued, making his way across the room to place the lobster tank down at the back of the class.
A sea of groans met his announcement and Larson allowed himself a grin as he patted the top of the lobster tank, turning back to face the class. He still barely had the room's attention. Immediately to his left, one of his students had his head down on the desk, eyes closed. Paul Blofis's stepson slept through most of Larson's classes these days. Larson never tried to escalate the issue. The boy, Percy Jackson, wasn't failing his class (he averaged a low C) and did at least make an honest effort to turn in his homework on time, which frankly made him one of Larson's better students.
"So," Larson clapped his hands together, which did get a handful of students to twist around in their seats to look at him. "What should we name our new lobster? I thought we could gather some names and take a vote on the favorite?"
The girl to Jackson's left wrinkled her nose, looked at the lobster, and then turned back to face the front of the class.
"A suggestion, anyone?"
His students were suddenly very occupied riffling through their things and avoiding eye contact. Someone sneezed. Jackson slept on.
"How about Poseidon?" Larson suggested, trying to get the ball rolling.
At this suggestion, Jackson turned his head and actually lifted his face off his unopened biology book to squint up at his teacher and then the lobster. It was the most Larson had seen him move almost all semester and he couldn't help the pride that sparked in his chest at finally getting a response out of the boy.
"No," Jackson said in a voice that brooked no argument and caught the class's attention better than anything Larson had tried all semester.
"No?" his teacher repeated, grinning and crossing his arms. He was grateful for Jackson's disapproval, even if it wasn't the direction he hoped the conversation would go. Ah well, engagement was engagement and they had the class's undivided attention now. "Do you have a better idea then?"
Jackson narrowed his eyes at Larson, clearly annoyed at having his nap disturbed, before looking back at the tank. He surveyed the lobster for a moment, almost like he was debating with himself, before saying with complete seriousness: "His name's Jim."
"I think we should all decide on his name, it is the classroom pet after all," Larson said, amused at the declaration delivered with such seriousness.
Jackson stared at him. "His name's Jim."
With that last proclamation, Jackson put his head down on his desk and went back to sleep. The class thought this was hysterical and burst into laughter and excited chatter. His name's Jim, they all parroted to each other and their teacher. There was something in the firm way Jackson said it that amused them, like it was an indisputable fact. Obviously, the lobster's name was Jim. Larson didn't try to rein in the excitement. Well, at least it got their attention, he thought and wrote "Jim" across the lobster tank with an erasable marker.
Jim the Lobster became an instant sensation at Goode High School. The students loved their lobster and somehow came to the collective, unspoken conclusion that Jackson was the end-all authority on all things Jim. All lobster-related questions were aimed at the teenager, who, looking tired and slightly at war with himself, always answered with a deadpanned seriousness that took Goode by storm.
"How's Jim doing today, Jackson?"
Jackson glanced at the lobster tank. "Tired. He says he doesn't like Mr. Larson's tie."
Larson wasn't offended, it was a hideous pattern.
"Hey Jackson, does Jim prefer seaweed pellets or bloodworms?"
"Neither. He prefers brine shrimp."
(This was how Larson ended up at the pet store, buying freeze-dried brine shrimp on the whims of a classroom pet. At least Jim did actually eat them.)
"Jackson, does Jim like my art project?"
"He's a lobster, Greg, he doesn't understand modern art."
"So? Neither do I."
Jackson considered this and turned back to the lobster tank. Jim's tail twitched. "He thinks you should add claws."
"Percy, does Jim have a favorite color?"
"Blue, obviously."
"Hey Percy, would Jim like to listen to some white noise at night when school's out? Like ocean sounds and stuff?"
"Yeah, but nothing with whale songs. They give him headaches."
"Hey Jackson, should we decorate Jim's tank for Halloween?"
"No, he doesn't like scary things."
Somehow this led to a classroom-wide ban on Halloween decorations.
"Hey Jackson, how's Jim doing today?"
"He's fine. Glad it's Monday, he gets lonely on the weekends."
This was the worst possible answer Jackson could give; all thirty of his classmates were distressed by the news.
"He needs a friend!" one of his students proposed, which was how Larson found himself under siege with requests for a second lobster.
"I'll only buy another one if you all raise the money," Larson said, trying to hide his amusement at the ridiculousness of the situation. "For both the new lobster and the food."
They raised enough money in a week and Larson found himself back at the seafood market, buying a second lobster.
"Are we going to vote on this one's name?" Larson asked the class.
He had a feeling he already knew the answer. His students all turned to look at Jackson.
Jackson chewed on the end of his pencil, staring at the lobster tank. "His name's Tobias."
The class lost its mind. Teenagers, Larson thought, shaking his head. Ten years and he still didn't really understand them. Jackson hung back after class, frowning down at the lobster tank. Larson approached the class-appointed lobster wrangler, wondering what caught the teenager's attention. Jackson normally took his lobster-wrangling duties from the comfort of his desk (head down or staring out the window most of the time).
"Tobias doesn't like Jim," Jackson said. Inside the tank, their newest class pet crawled after Jim, who scurried along the rocks away from his new tankmate.
"I'm sure they'll get along soon enough," Larson said.
The next morning, Jim had a chunk of his tail missing. Jackson scowled at the tank, throwing his backpack down on his seat before crouching next to the tank.
"Be nice to Jim, Tobias," Jackson said and it sounded like a threat as he prodded the tank's glass. "I like him and he was here first. Behave."
Or else, was left unsaid. Tobias scuffled to the back of the tank not unlike a scolded toddler and Larson could have sworn Jim looked pleased, swimming up to where Jackson touched the glass. Larson shook his head; he was too old to be anthropomorphizing lobsters.
"Are Tobias and Jim getting along better?" Larson wondered what it said about his life that he was as drawn into the lobster drama as his students.
"Better, Tobias is a bit of an asshole, but he's kind of funny too so . . ."
Larson nodded as though that made sense. He knew humans like that; he wondered if Jackson was projecting onto the lobsters. Perhaps he should talk to Paul about it.
"Should I get a second tank?" Larson asked.
"Nah, they'll work it out. Tobias promised to behave." Jackson tilted his head, considering. "A bigger tank though might be good."
And because Larson was a pushover, he did in fact buy a bigger tank.
"It's Jim's birthday next week," Jackson announced one day.
Larson wasn't even the slightest bit prepared for the number of birthday cards and gifts the classroom lobster received. They now had seven containers of freeze-dried brine shrimp. Several students read their cards aloud to the lobster.
"He liked that one, it was funny," Jackson said to one of his classmates and the whole class cheered.
"Does Jim like being a classroom pet?"
Jackson looked at the lobster. The lobster looked back at him.
"Yeah, he loves it."
Larson was used to visitors in his classroom nowadays. Jim and Tobias had the strangest ability to draw a crowd. All the same, he wasn't expecting to walk into his classroom one morning and find a parent waiting for him, standing at the back of the room and looking down at Jim and Tobias.
"Can I help you?" Larson asked and his uninvited guest turned around.
For a moment, Larson thought he was mistaken and it was Percy Jackson standing by the lobster tank. Then he blinked and realized that no, no, it wasn't his student. This man was older, sporting a Hawaiian shirt and a fishing hat. Despite the casual attire, there was something decidedly somber and regal about him.
"No, you cannot," the man said and Larson's knees locked into place, suddenly filled with an overwhelming urge to leave the classroom and come back when this stranger was gone. "I am waiting for my son."
"Percy Jackson?" Larson guessed and the man's lips flickered into the barest of smiles.
"Yes. He'll be here soon."
"Yeah, this is his first hour."
The man just smiled politely at him.
"I'm uh, Larson, Kevin Larson," Larson introduced and, for some reason he couldn't explain, didn't walk across the room to offer his hand.
"I know." The man almost seemed to be laughing at him.
"You were looking at the lobsters?" Larson said, glancing at the tank behind the unsettling man. "Your son seems to really like them."
"Yes, I have been told."
"Oh, does Percy talk about them?" Larson asked.
"No." The same polite smile accompanied the bland reply. Larson knew he was definitely being laughed at now, although he couldn't see what was humorous.
"Ah, well. The students all seem to really like them. Percy named them both, actually. Originally, we were going to name the smaller one Poseidon but Percy was very against it."
Jackson's father laughed, a deep rumbling sound that caused the lobsters to scurry around in their tank, climbing over one another as though to get closer to the glass.
"Indeed? I imagine he would be," the man said. "Well, in any case, their names are Jim and Tobias."
Just like his son, the man spoke as though he were declaring a truth. What a strange family, Larson thought.
"Dad?"
Speaking of—Larson turned and found Percy Jackson standing in the classroom doorway, staring at his father.
"Percy," his father greeted.
Larson felt like he was intruding on something far less mundane than a father greeting his son. Percy smiled up at his dad, half his mouth hitching up and eyes bright. He looked . . . well, happy, as stupid as that sounded. It was not an expression Larson was used to seeing on the teenager. It made him look younger, less tired than the permanently exhausted student who normally haunted the back of Larson's classroom. In a few easy steps, Jackson's father crossed the room to stand before his son and Larson had to look away, a bone-deep knowledge that he was intruding on something private, something sacred.
"Jim and Tobias?" came the father's deep, amused voice.
"Yeah well, I couldn't let them call it Poseidon," Jackson said, sounding defensive.
"It would hardly be the first lobster named Poseidon."
Larson dared to glance over at the pair. Jackson was making a face, his nose wrinkling and looking far more offended than the conversation seemed to warrant while his father's shoulders shook with silent mirth.
"What are you doing with the lobsters after school ends?"
Larson almost jumped when he realized the question was aimed at him. Jackson frowned at his father, inching closer as though to insert himself between the man and his teacher. Larson had no idea what to make of that, except he felt oddly flattered. His student's father looked deeply amused and terribly fond.
"Um, I hadn't thought about it," he replied.
"Release them back into the ocean," Jackson's father commanded, which was a ridiculous request, and yet Larson found himself nodding in agreement, muttering a promise that of course he would.
"Dad," Jackson said, exasperated.
"I thought you liked them?" his father asked, head tilting to the side.
"I like Jim. Tobias is kind of a jerk . . . I guess he is growing on me though. I don't want either of them to get caught by fishermen."
"They won't," his father promised nonsensically and reached out to lay a hand on the teenager's shoulder. "Come along now. Good day, Kevin Larson."
"Nice meeting you," Larson replied, watching as the father swept his son from the room.
It didn't even occur to him that Jackson needed to stay for first hour. He watched Jackson sway closer to his dad as they walked away, face upturned and eyes bright and alert. Larson blinked and the pair must have turned down a corner because they were gone. At the back of the classroom, Jim and Tobias shuffled around anxiously, their claws tapping against the glass as though trying to call Jackson and his father back.
It's been a weird semester, Larson thought.
A/N Title unabashedly stolen from DFW. I was playing Coral Island the other day and one of the characters named his pet lobster Poseidon and my first thought was how Percy would never allow it. So you can blame this pure nonsense on that. The formatting of this fic works better on Ao3 I feel, it is cross-posted there.
