Part Three: December, 1996
It's Wednesday! \o/
ICONS WERE MADE. TEARS OF HAPPINESS WERE SHED. PANTS WERE EXCHANGED.
IF YOU HAVEN'T JOINED suitcase_fans, WHAT ON EARTH IS WRONG WITH YOU??? *runs around like a chicken turkey with her head cut off*
Part Three
December 2nd, 1996
Reads: (Main Stairs to first floor) (To first floor) (Homeroom) (May I keep saying it?! Stairs.) (Basement)
Homeroom: 003 (Basement) Daniels (?)
Repeat the annual 7:35AM. First bell at 7:40AM. (Avoid crowdy last minute rushes.)
Locker # 1538 (Locker apparently on main floor not near homeroom. Transfer students apparently get lockers next to broken water fountains and janitor closets. How promising!)
Combination: 41-16-23 (Turn one full rotation clockwise. Listen for click to be sure you know what you're doing. Turn two full rotations counter-clockwise - clicks are important. Turn one last rotation (full) clockwise. Louder click. I am in.)
Homeroom: 740AM until 7:50AM. (I have ten minutes to get from homeroom 003 Basement to second floor 247. Sylar watch is a couple minutes fast - keep that.)
Escape is not an option. And yet, Gabriel Gray, now staring at his locker in despair, is contemplating it. It's all hopeless. Even the ham sandwich in his backpack realizes that it's hopeless.
He wonders briefly if this is the way the world ends - not with a bang, but with ham sandwiches and corn on the cob, and transfer student lockers so far away that they might as well be in hell. Or maybe it's just him.
Gabriel Gray has never seen Death before just now. Death, however, does not tread softly or carry a scythe, for Gabriel Gray. Death is no angel. Instead, an ominous, gloomy presence surrounds Death, big boots making too much noise and not enough at once as they squeak over the linoleum school floors - squeak, squeak, squeak - and he carries a force to be reckoned with, a mop of epic proportions.
Epic, because, Gabriel is pretty sure that this is the way the world ends. With one swipe of Death's mop.
This is the sort of time to see his life flash before his eyes, he thinks, but he doesn't, so maybe it's not his time to go yet.
Somewhere, in an abandoned hallway where the transfer student lockers are, Gabriel Gray whimpers. The ham sandwich in his backpack whimpers.
"It's not going to open just by staring at it," comes a rumbling voice, and Death grins at him.
He stabs at his locker once, twice, with his mop-scythe-of-doom, and it magically pops open.
Gabriel Gray fears for his life.
Somewhere behind him, down the hallway, he hears a rumble of laughter.
***
Reads: Schedule - Gabriel Gray (Me)
7:40-7:50 Homeroom Rm. 003 Daniels (Why do we have 10 minutes here + 5 with all the others?!?!)
8:00-8:50 Geometry Rm. 247 Owen
8:55-9:45 English Rm. 115 Tiscano
9:50-10:40 Chemistry Rm. 132 Price
10:45-11:35 World History Rm. 222 Kane
11:40-12:10 Lunch Cafeteria (I doubt someone teaches this)
12:15-1:05 - Anatomy Rm. 201 Wilson
1:10-2:00 - Phys Ed (Death!) Gymnasium (Death!) Julbert
2:05-2:55 - Spanish Rm. 005 MacNair
3:00 - Dimissal
What happens during the five minutes between the end of Spanish Class + Dismissal?! (Do I even want to know?!) (? - Mystery) (Clocks!)
(Something is seriously wrong with the minute + second hands. I should fix that.)
Gabriel has been at Lee Kirby High School for less than an hour, and already he feels rather like he is going mad.
Maybe he is. He's already met Death - no one person could be quite as frightening with a mop in his hand unless he holds the title of Death, he is sure of it - although another boy kindly informed him that it was just the janitor, after he had responded to the "are you all right?" with a whimpered, emphatic, "Death!" pale-faced and pointing in the direction of Hell.
That was followed by him desperately trying to find Room 247 so he could attend Geometry, only to discover that that room didn't exist at all, not to mention that, when he finally found the Geometry room in which a Mrs. Tiscano was teaching, he wasn't on her roster at all. At least, not until seventh period. He returned to the office, greatly disheartened, where the secretaries told him that he actually had World History, with Mr. Kim in Room 222 - which, that was an anomaly entirely on it's own! Who on earth had Kim as a last name? That was just absurd! - so he hastily fixed his schedule and went back upstairs, only to realize that it was already 8:52, and, keeping in mind that the Sylar watch was a few minutes fast, that made it almost time for passing period anyway. So he returned to his locker to change books again.
Already the world has gone topsy-turvy because Gabriel Gray has worse luck than anyone else, or so he keeps telling himself. Entirely his fault, of course. So here he is, once again, unable to open his locker - or anything else in the world, of course - staring woefully for one, two moments, until he hears the bell sound for other students to change their books and mingle and talk and laugh and go to their second class of the day.
Clank. Clang-clank. Lockers open all around him, and very briefly, Gabriel considers if perhaps, he is cursed.
Clang, once again, right beside him this time, and he is reminded, even if just for a moment, of a certain heavenly choir. Maybe it's his imagination. Maybe this is Fate. But Gabriel Gray chooses to sort of sway to the right at that particular instance, daring to peek despite himself.
He gasps.
For a moment, time stands still.
Two very hazel, very probing, very clear eyes peer back at him. "…yes?"
Gabriel flails inside. Hesitates. Is unsure. He must look like A Moron at best.
"Yes," he sort of repeats, very slowly, afraid of saying anything else. Then, inspiration strikes, and he finds his tongue again. It feels, awkward, strange, like a jellyfish in his mouth. Like soggy toast. "Your locker opened."
In his head it sounded like The Most Brilliant Thing Ever Uttered By Mankind. Now Gabriel wishes to excuse himself to write his obituary.
"Yes," the stranger sort of repeats, looking as cluelessly at him as he feels, and he wonders whether they will have this Battle of the Yes-es for much longer. It will get boring after a bit, he realizes, and ponders on this for a moment longer before realizing that it is, once again, his turn to say something.
"Yes," he says again, and feels accomplished. Another yes under his belt. "Er. Mine doesn't. This makes you, um, infinitely awe-inspiring." He nods, as if to accentuate that particular fact, afraid to say yes again for fear of saying it too much. One could say yes too many times. Too much of a good thing, and all that.
"Thanks." The stranger looks around for a moment, clearly checking for cameras - Gabriel is unsure whether it would be wise at this point to ensure him that, no, this really isn't Candid Camera, and that, yes, he is in fact, real, but that would involve more yes-es and, if the stranger already knew this, stupidity - and slams his locker shut, putting his headphones back around his neck and walking off.
Gabriel casts one last glance down at his locker, then at his bag, and decides that for now, what he has is enough, especially because these are instances of a particular sort of awesome, and runs after the hallway person. "What class are you going to?" he asks, proud that that sentence sounded almost like something a normal person would say, and scurries to keep up with him.
"English."
"Not a man of many words, eh? That's all right, I'm not either."
"Wouldn't have guessed," he mumbles, and Gabriel wonders briefly whether his Lack Of Words has anything to do with the fact that he's listening to music.
He decides on no.
"Anyway, that's fantastic! I, er, I think I have that, too! At least, that's what they told me. They were wrong before-or, I was wrong, more likely, really, so I hope they didn't mess it up this time, because you seem Very Nice indeed!"
The hallway person grumbles something in response, and before Gabriel can ask him, "excuse me? I couldn't quite understand what you said?" they are already at the door, and The Very Nice Stranger sort of flings it open in his face, surely a mistake, and he flails for a second, glasses askew, before following, like a happy little puppy.
There are a lot of people already, and the stranger sits down in the back, a seat next to him still open.
Gabriel grins, sits, and stares.
"…yes?" the stranger repeats, and Gabriel opens his mouth to reply just as the teacher clears her throat, and the bell for class sounds.
It is a woeful moment indeed.
Gabriel stares for a moment more, before being violently hit over the head with inspiration.
He fishes frantically around in his backpack, finally taking out a black pen with the tip sort of chewed on, two small tooth-dents on one side, a lot more on the other, and de-capping it, wondering very briefly if pens felt naked when you take their caps off.
He suddenly feels very devious.
Realizing suddenly that a pen alone will not do, unless he were to write on himself, he also takes out an empty notebook, tearing out a piece.
Again, with that devious feeling.
Hastily, he scribbles a note.
From Gabriel Gray to The Stranger; passed rather sneakily under the table only to be thrown on his The Stranger's lap.
Reads: Hello, Hallway Person? What's your name?
No response. Much to Gabriel Gray's luck, however, role is called, and he does not neglect to watch for The Stranger's response, internally rejoicing when his own name was called, because that means he finally got something right.
"Peter Petrelli?"
"Present."
Victory! screams Gabriel's brain, and he tears off another piece of notebook paper.
From Gabriel Gray, to Peter Petrelli; attempt number 2, held out for reception but never received, finally discarded in said lap once more.
Reads: So your names is Peter! My name is Gabriel Gray. Gabriel is my first name. Gray is my last name.
I like your hair!
No response. He decides, that, perhaps, a plea is in order. And perhaps a compliment.
From Gabriel Gray, to Peter Petrelli; attempt number 3, this time tossed unceremoniously onto said lap and barely missed by The Teacher's eyes.
Reads: Your hair is very nice! I am new here. I'm lost. Help
From Peter Petrelli to Gabriel Gray; held out for reception and received most jovially.
Reads: Thanks, we're in AP English.
Gabriel reads it three times to make sure that he has really understood what Peter Petrelli seems to be trying to say, and decides that perhaps he should be more interesting.
He thinks to look up; the teacher is going on and on about some book about prepubescent naked boys running around killing each other on a desert island - Lord of the Flies - most of the class asleep and not paying attention, and Gabriel thinks that perhaps the book would be a good place to start.
From Gabriel Gray to Peter Petrelli; scribbled most urgently and with a sort of desperation that the throw is a bit off, ending at the tip of Peter's foot. Safe still.
Reads: I'm more lost when i'm out in the hallway and don't really know where I'm going. I'm fine for the moment. But if I was on a desert island, I would keep my clothes on.
From Peter Petrelli to Gabriel Gray; sort of just dropped onto the floor for Gabriel to fish for. Gabriel fishes.
Reads: Nice to know.
Gabriel feels the sudden urge to elaborate and ask more questions in the hope that perhaps that would make Peter a more talkative person, unlike him.
From Gabriel Gray to Peter Petrelli; handed with a grin and accepted with a grimace of sorts.
Reads: No, really! they run the risk of contracting so many different diseases! Running about naked in an unfamiliar environment is never the answer. So what classes do you have? Aside from this one, I mean.
There is more writing going on this time. Gabriel rejoices.
From Peter Petrelli to Gabriel Gray; delivered without eyecontact.
Reads: I'm killing myself with AP History, Algebra II, Chem, US Gov, Jazz Rock and Gym
There are more words but still not more substance! Gabriel decides to opt for phase two. Underlining and exclamation marks of questions!
From Gabriel Gray to Peter Petrelli; if ever there was a note handed in a way that it could be ended with an exclamation mark, it was this one!
Reads: When do you have history and chemistry and gym?????
From Peter Petrelli to Gabriel Gray; again with the lack of eyecontact. Gabriel Gray is not disheartened. Yet.
Reads: Chemistry is second block. History was first. I think Gym is either last or second to.
Phase three. Loops are added for loopy emphasis.
From Gabriel Gray to Peter Petrelli; handed with much loopy handgesturing, leading to much widening of the eyes.
Reads: I think we also have gym together! I don't feel so frightened now.
From Peter Petrelli to Gabriel Gray; passed back much too quickly once again, in Gabriel's opinion.
Reads: That's nice.
Briefly, Gabriel Gray contemplates murder. He decides it is an Import sort of subject that constitutes putting it down on paper. He does so.
From Gabriel Gray to Peter Petrelli; there is much woeful staring to emphasize the woeful nature of this note.
Reads: It is, isn't it?! Not gym itself but us both having it and if I don't know what I'm doing I'm sure you can show me so I don't inadvertantly kill anyone.
From Peter Petrelli to Gabriel Gray; took longer this time - there is hope for Peter Petrelli yet.
Reads: I think we're going to play dodgeball.
Gabriel contemplates suicide. Either way, he is very afraid for his life.
From Gabriel Gray to Peter Petrelli; passed with a slightly shaky hand, snatched away.
Reads: Dodgeball?!?! I think you may have to helo me avail my own inadvertent death and stop any murder plots that are being planned against me. By students and ham and things.
From Peter Petrelli; there is no emotion in this note-handing.
Reads: You're not going to die.
Gabriel feels slightly encouraged… if by encouraged one means radiantly glowing with the newfound light of ultimate purpose. He beams at Peter who gives a lopsided smile.
From Gabriel Gray to Peter Petrelli; passed with a radiant glow and an earth-shattering grin to match the smiley in his Very Happy Note.
Reads: So you're going to protect?! You're my friend now?! :)
The tension in the air for Gabriel Gray as he watches Peter's blue pen bob back and forth slowly could be cut with a knife.
He realizes that he lacks a knife.
From Peter Petrelli to Gabriel Gray; passed with much less radiance, not that Gabriel cares.
Reads: Sure, I guess.
Gabriel rejoices, quickly writing a note of Much Importance.
From Gabriel Gray to Peter Petrelli; there is some flailing and near-dropping of notes, but it is intercepted from another student just in time.
Reads: Really?! You can come over my house whenever you want, you know! Want my address????
From Peter Petrelli to Gabriel Gray; two letters of Much Importance, handed over with a pleasant nod.
Reads: OK
Gabriel starts writing, but before he can even hope to finish, the bell rings and the class is dismissed, and Peter walks out.
From Gabriel Gray to Peter Petrelli; started, not finished, later crumpled up and kept in his front pocket just in case there were stalkers around out for his head.
Reads: OK, my address is 1722 Northern Boulevard Que-
Gabriel scurries after his New Friend, nearly losing his notebooks in the process, having forgotten to zip up his backpack again.
It is a good sort of day if you're Gabriel Gray.
Even though there's Dodgeball.
***
It's a good sort of day at the other end of the world, too, especially if your name is Nathan Petrelli.
"Influential parents, huh?"
"Like you wouldn't believe. The money helps, too, of course," Nathan says, and grins like a shark.
The other guy shakes his head, sighing. "Lucky. Wish I could be headed home for the holidays."
There's an image of Peter there, in his mind, and he closes his eyes briefly. He can almost smell home, even across the ocean.
"You don't even know the half of it," Nathan says, and means it.
ICONS WERE MADE. TEARS OF HAPPINESS WERE SHED. PANTS WERE EXCHANGED.
IF YOU HAVEN'T JOINED suitcase_fans, WHAT ON EARTH IS WRONG WITH YOU??? *runs around like a chicken turkey with her head cut off*
Part Three
December 2nd, 1996
Reads: (Main Stairs to first floor) (To first floor) (Homeroom) (May I keep saying it?! Stairs.) (Basement)
Homeroom: 003 (Basement) Daniels (?)
Repeat the annual 7:35AM. First bell at 7:40AM. (Avoid crowdy last minute rushes.)
Locker # 1538 (Locker apparently on main floor not near homeroom. Transfer students apparently get lockers next to broken water fountains and janitor closets. How promising!)
Combination: 41-16-23 (Turn one full rotation clockwise. Listen for click to be sure you know what you're doing. Turn two full rotations counter-clockwise - clicks are important. Turn one last rotation (full) clockwise. Louder click. I am in.)
Homeroom: 740AM until 7:50AM. (I have ten minutes to get from homeroom 003 Basement to second floor 247. Sylar watch is a couple minutes fast - keep that.)
Escape is not an option. And yet, Gabriel Gray, now staring at his locker in despair, is contemplating it. It's all hopeless. Even the ham sandwich in his backpack realizes that it's hopeless.
He wonders briefly if this is the way the world ends - not with a bang, but with ham sandwiches and corn on the cob, and transfer student lockers so far away that they might as well be in hell. Or maybe it's just him.
Gabriel Gray has never seen Death before just now. Death, however, does not tread softly or carry a scythe, for Gabriel Gray. Death is no angel. Instead, an ominous, gloomy presence surrounds Death, big boots making too much noise and not enough at once as they squeak over the linoleum school floors - squeak, squeak, squeak - and he carries a force to be reckoned with, a mop of epic proportions.
Epic, because, Gabriel is pretty sure that this is the way the world ends. With one swipe of Death's mop.
This is the sort of time to see his life flash before his eyes, he thinks, but he doesn't, so maybe it's not his time to go yet.
Somewhere, in an abandoned hallway where the transfer student lockers are, Gabriel Gray whimpers. The ham sandwich in his backpack whimpers.
"It's not going to open just by staring at it," comes a rumbling voice, and Death grins at him.
He stabs at his locker once, twice, with his mop-scythe-of-doom, and it magically pops open.
Gabriel Gray fears for his life.
Somewhere behind him, down the hallway, he hears a rumble of laughter.
***
Reads: Schedule - Gabriel Gray (Me)
7:40-7:50 Homeroom Rm. 003 Daniels (Why do we have 10 minutes here + 5 with all the others?!?!)
8:00-8:50 Geometry Rm. 247 Owen
8:55-9:45 English Rm. 115 Tiscano
9:50-10:40 Chemistry Rm. 132 Price
10:45-11:35 World History Rm. 222 Kane
11:40-12:10 Lunch Cafeteria (I doubt someone teaches this)
12:15-1:05 - Anatomy Rm. 201 Wilson
1:10-2:00 - Phys Ed (Death!) Gymnasium (Death!) Julbert
2:05-2:55 - Spanish Rm. 005 MacNair
3:00 - Dimissal
What happens during the five minutes between the end of Spanish Class + Dismissal?! (Do I even want to know?!) (? - Mystery) (Clocks!)
(Something is seriously wrong with the minute + second hands. I should fix that.)
Gabriel has been at Lee Kirby High School for less than an hour, and already he feels rather like he is going mad.
Maybe he is. He's already met Death - no one person could be quite as frightening with a mop in his hand unless he holds the title of Death, he is sure of it - although another boy kindly informed him that it was just the janitor, after he had responded to the "are you all right?" with a whimpered, emphatic, "Death!" pale-faced and pointing in the direction of Hell.
That was followed by him desperately trying to find Room 247 so he could attend Geometry, only to discover that that room didn't exist at all, not to mention that, when he finally found the Geometry room in which a Mrs. Tiscano was teaching, he wasn't on her roster at all. At least, not until seventh period. He returned to the office, greatly disheartened, where the secretaries told him that he actually had World History, with Mr. Kim in Room 222 - which, that was an anomaly entirely on it's own! Who on earth had Kim as a last name? That was just absurd! - so he hastily fixed his schedule and went back upstairs, only to realize that it was already 8:52, and, keeping in mind that the Sylar watch was a few minutes fast, that made it almost time for passing period anyway. So he returned to his locker to change books again.
Already the world has gone topsy-turvy because Gabriel Gray has worse luck than anyone else, or so he keeps telling himself. Entirely his fault, of course. So here he is, once again, unable to open his locker - or anything else in the world, of course - staring woefully for one, two moments, until he hears the bell sound for other students to change their books and mingle and talk and laugh and go to their second class of the day.
Clank. Clang-clank. Lockers open all around him, and very briefly, Gabriel considers if perhaps, he is cursed.
Clang, once again, right beside him this time, and he is reminded, even if just for a moment, of a certain heavenly choir. Maybe it's his imagination. Maybe this is Fate. But Gabriel Gray chooses to sort of sway to the right at that particular instance, daring to peek despite himself.
He gasps.
For a moment, time stands still.
Two very hazel, very probing, very clear eyes peer back at him. "…yes?"
Gabriel flails inside. Hesitates. Is unsure. He must look like A Moron at best.
"Yes," he sort of repeats, very slowly, afraid of saying anything else. Then, inspiration strikes, and he finds his tongue again. It feels, awkward, strange, like a jellyfish in his mouth. Like soggy toast. "Your locker opened."
In his head it sounded like The Most Brilliant Thing Ever Uttered By Mankind. Now Gabriel wishes to excuse himself to write his obituary.
"Yes," the stranger sort of repeats, looking as cluelessly at him as he feels, and he wonders whether they will have this Battle of the Yes-es for much longer. It will get boring after a bit, he realizes, and ponders on this for a moment longer before realizing that it is, once again, his turn to say something.
"Yes," he says again, and feels accomplished. Another yes under his belt. "Er. Mine doesn't. This makes you, um, infinitely awe-inspiring." He nods, as if to accentuate that particular fact, afraid to say yes again for fear of saying it too much. One could say yes too many times. Too much of a good thing, and all that.
"Thanks." The stranger looks around for a moment, clearly checking for cameras - Gabriel is unsure whether it would be wise at this point to ensure him that, no, this really isn't Candid Camera, and that, yes, he is in fact, real, but that would involve more yes-es and, if the stranger already knew this, stupidity - and slams his locker shut, putting his headphones back around his neck and walking off.
Gabriel casts one last glance down at his locker, then at his bag, and decides that for now, what he has is enough, especially because these are instances of a particular sort of awesome, and runs after the hallway person. "What class are you going to?" he asks, proud that that sentence sounded almost like something a normal person would say, and scurries to keep up with him.
"English."
"Not a man of many words, eh? That's all right, I'm not either."
"Wouldn't have guessed," he mumbles, and Gabriel wonders briefly whether his Lack Of Words has anything to do with the fact that he's listening to music.
He decides on no.
"Anyway, that's fantastic! I, er, I think I have that, too! At least, that's what they told me. They were wrong before-or, I was wrong, more likely, really, so I hope they didn't mess it up this time, because you seem Very Nice indeed!"
The hallway person grumbles something in response, and before Gabriel can ask him, "excuse me? I couldn't quite understand what you said?" they are already at the door, and The Very Nice Stranger sort of flings it open in his face, surely a mistake, and he flails for a second, glasses askew, before following, like a happy little puppy.
There are a lot of people already, and the stranger sits down in the back, a seat next to him still open.
Gabriel grins, sits, and stares.
"…yes?" the stranger repeats, and Gabriel opens his mouth to reply just as the teacher clears her throat, and the bell for class sounds.
It is a woeful moment indeed.
Gabriel stares for a moment more, before being violently hit over the head with inspiration.
He fishes frantically around in his backpack, finally taking out a black pen with the tip sort of chewed on, two small tooth-dents on one side, a lot more on the other, and de-capping it, wondering very briefly if pens felt naked when you take their caps off.
He suddenly feels very devious.
Realizing suddenly that a pen alone will not do, unless he were to write on himself, he also takes out an empty notebook, tearing out a piece.
Again, with that devious feeling.
Hastily, he scribbles a note.
From Gabriel Gray to The Stranger; passed rather sneakily under the table only to be thrown on his The Stranger's lap.
Reads: Hello, Hallway Person? What's your name?
No response. Much to Gabriel Gray's luck, however, role is called, and he does not neglect to watch for The Stranger's response, internally rejoicing when his own name was called, because that means he finally got something right.
"Peter Petrelli?"
"Present."
Victory! screams Gabriel's brain, and he tears off another piece of notebook paper.
From Gabriel Gray, to Peter Petrelli; attempt number 2, held out for reception but never received, finally discarded in said lap once more.
Reads: So your names is Peter! My name is Gabriel Gray. Gabriel is my first name. Gray is my last name.
I like your hair!
No response. He decides, that, perhaps, a plea is in order. And perhaps a compliment.
From Gabriel Gray, to Peter Petrelli; attempt number 3, this time tossed unceremoniously onto said lap and barely missed by The Teacher's eyes.
Reads: Your hair is very nice! I am new here. I'm lost. Help
From Peter Petrelli to Gabriel Gray; held out for reception and received most jovially.
Reads: Thanks, we're in AP English.
Gabriel reads it three times to make sure that he has really understood what Peter Petrelli seems to be trying to say, and decides that perhaps he should be more interesting.
He thinks to look up; the teacher is going on and on about some book about prepubescent naked boys running around killing each other on a desert island - Lord of the Flies - most of the class asleep and not paying attention, and Gabriel thinks that perhaps the book would be a good place to start.
From Gabriel Gray to Peter Petrelli; scribbled most urgently and with a sort of desperation that the throw is a bit off, ending at the tip of Peter's foot. Safe still.
Reads: I'm more lost when i'm out in the hallway and don't really know where I'm going. I'm fine for the moment. But if I was on a desert island, I would keep my clothes on.
From Peter Petrelli to Gabriel Gray; sort of just dropped onto the floor for Gabriel to fish for. Gabriel fishes.
Reads: Nice to know.
Gabriel feels the sudden urge to elaborate and ask more questions in the hope that perhaps that would make Peter a more talkative person, unlike him.
From Gabriel Gray to Peter Petrelli; handed with a grin and accepted with a grimace of sorts.
Reads: No, really! they run the risk of contracting so many different diseases! Running about naked in an unfamiliar environment is never the answer. So what classes do you have? Aside from this one, I mean.
There is more writing going on this time. Gabriel rejoices.
From Peter Petrelli to Gabriel Gray; delivered without eyecontact.
Reads: I'm killing myself with AP History, Algebra II, Chem, US Gov, Jazz Rock and Gym
There are more words but still not more substance! Gabriel decides to opt for phase two. Underlining and exclamation marks of questions!
From Gabriel Gray to Peter Petrelli; if ever there was a note handed in a way that it could be ended with an exclamation mark, it was this one!
Reads: When do you have history and chemistry and gym?????
From Peter Petrelli to Gabriel Gray; again with the lack of eyecontact. Gabriel Gray is not disheartened. Yet.
Reads: Chemistry is second block. History was first. I think Gym is either last or second to.
Phase three. Loops are added for loopy emphasis.
From Gabriel Gray to Peter Petrelli; handed with much loopy handgesturing, leading to much widening of the eyes.
Reads: I think we also have gym together! I don't feel so frightened now.
From Peter Petrelli to Gabriel Gray; passed back much too quickly once again, in Gabriel's opinion.
Reads: That's nice.
Briefly, Gabriel Gray contemplates murder. He decides it is an Import sort of subject that constitutes putting it down on paper. He does so.
From Gabriel Gray to Peter Petrelli; there is much woeful staring to emphasize the woeful nature of this note.
Reads: It is, isn't it?! Not gym itself but us both having it and if I don't know what I'm doing I'm sure you can show me so I don't inadvertantly kill anyone.
From Peter Petrelli to Gabriel Gray; took longer this time - there is hope for Peter Petrelli yet.
Reads: I think we're going to play dodgeball.
Gabriel contemplates suicide. Either way, he is very afraid for his life.
From Gabriel Gray to Peter Petrelli; passed with a slightly shaky hand, snatched away.
Reads: Dodgeball?!?! I think you may have to helo me avail my own inadvertent death and stop any murder plots that are being planned against me. By students and ham and things.
From Peter Petrelli; there is no emotion in this note-handing.
Reads: You're not going to die.
Gabriel feels slightly encouraged… if by encouraged one means radiantly glowing with the newfound light of ultimate purpose. He beams at Peter who gives a lopsided smile.
From Gabriel Gray to Peter Petrelli; passed with a radiant glow and an earth-shattering grin to match the smiley in his Very Happy Note.
Reads: So you're going to protect?! You're my friend now?! :)
The tension in the air for Gabriel Gray as he watches Peter's blue pen bob back and forth slowly could be cut with a knife.
He realizes that he lacks a knife.
From Peter Petrelli to Gabriel Gray; passed with much less radiance, not that Gabriel cares.
Reads: Sure, I guess.
Gabriel rejoices, quickly writing a note of Much Importance.
From Gabriel Gray to Peter Petrelli; there is some flailing and near-dropping of notes, but it is intercepted from another student just in time.
Reads: Really?! You can come over my house whenever you want, you know! Want my address????
From Peter Petrelli to Gabriel Gray; two letters of Much Importance, handed over with a pleasant nod.
Reads: OK
Gabriel starts writing, but before he can even hope to finish, the bell rings and the class is dismissed, and Peter walks out.
From Gabriel Gray to Peter Petrelli; started, not finished, later crumpled up and kept in his front pocket just in case there were stalkers around out for his head.
Reads: OK, my address is 1722 Northern Boulevard Que-
Gabriel scurries after his New Friend, nearly losing his notebooks in the process, having forgotten to zip up his backpack again.
It is a good sort of day if you're Gabriel Gray.
Even though there's Dodgeball.
***
It's a good sort of day at the other end of the world, too, especially if your name is Nathan Petrelli.
"Influential parents, huh?"
"Like you wouldn't believe. The money helps, too, of course," Nathan says, and grins like a shark.
The other guy shakes his head, sighing. "Lucky. Wish I could be headed home for the holidays."
There's an image of Peter there, in his mind, and he closes his eyes briefly. He can almost smell home, even across the ocean.
"You don't even know the half of it," Nathan says, and means it.