HAPPY BIRTHDAY, GIRL.
So faded-lilac posted her edition of this three years ago: William Wilberforce, [other]William Pitt, Thomas Clarkson, etc. fighting the man and being lame in high school In the intervening period, we have celebrated her birthday twice, posted a bunch of other dumb things, and had conversations about how the saddest part is where William Pitt got punched in the face once.
The actual saddest part is the international slave trade! Now this fandom will in fact be fifty percent high school au's, as we have always wanted. And it is your birthday, and about what you want (me! and also what I want.)
Birthdays are always celebrated with incoherent commentary, sexytimes, bare wisps of plot and a premise which will make zero sense to anyone at all.
Review and Expectation
Amazing Grace (2006): William Wilberforce/Barbara Spooner, William Pitt Jr/Thomas Clarkson, Henry Thornton/Marianne Sykes, and James Stephen, Hannah More, Charles Fox, Olaudah Equiano.
Way to go, William thinks, way to be the lamest human being alive, or possibly ever. He looks down at the mud stain on the shin of his bright red corduroys, and tries not to feel inadequate.
Title from the song by John Newton presently known as "Amazing Grace," then known as "Faith's Review and Expectation" or "hymn 41."
William rolls over in bed, and kisses Barbara's neck. She half-heartedly swats him away; it's early on a Friday evening, but this time of year, Barbara is swamped at work, and generally ignores William for the whole month, only occasionally nodding at him when she leaves in the morning, and mumbling around her words at dinner. William used to be depressed by it, but after years of the same thing, he's made his peace with it; March is a pretty terrible month to be married to a tax lawyer. But the other eleven months of the year, William is pretty sure that he does enough flighty things to make up for it, so he tries to keep out of the way, and make something nice for dinner on the 16th of April.
William kisses Barbara again, this time on the shell of her ear.
"What? William, I really will hit you right in the face if you don't stop it." Barbara blinks furiously, coming back to full awakeness. She holds her hair back from her face with one hand, and glares at William. He pouts at her, sticking out his lower lip and looking very sad indeed. "Not even your cow eyes will make it better."
"Oh," William rebuts, "they're not cow eyes. Those are broad and stupid." William sits up in bed, and looks over at Barbara, and uses his index and middle finger to pull his brow up and push his cheeks down, "Like this; these are cow eyes," until his eyes look huge, set in a flat face. "Moo."
"No, William. Go away."
"Moo."
Barbara laughs at him, and sits up, even as William continues to intermittently moo. "Fine, fine, you win. Those are cow eyes, everyone agrees."
"Well, I only show them to you. It's a very special moment, you know, between married people. Only then can a man show off his killer cow impression to his wife. Otherwise, it's right out. So, really, no one else can agree, it's your word that I look silly against everyone else's that I have perfect sad eyes." William is very pleased with himself; Barbara is still smiling. Since this is precisely what he usually gets when he woefully looks at junior legislators, with his totally convincing sad, sad, sad eyes, he chalks up another victory for the eyes. Well, okay, not precisely, since he doesn't actually sleep with his staff, but they get him coffee and copy things for him, which is pretty much the workplace equivalent.
Barbara rolls her eyes, and turns on her bedside light. "Yes, I know when we were first dating, you never made silly faces like that. I had to wait years, right up until we got to the altar." She grins at him, perfectly aware that nothing could be further from the truth. Her face takes on a thoughtful cast. "William, do you remember what you were like in high school at all? Not just the vast number of pretty idiotic expressions, not even counting the time that you gatecrashed the Hawaiian Princess Exposition --"
William cuts Barbara off, even if she is flattering his sense of humor. "Yes, this is totally the night to bring up my terrible defeat at the hands of Joshua Tarleton, and the rest of the lacrosse team. We shouldn't even have to go into how crude that was, and how it was totally improved by being broken up. I think I liked you more when you were asleep, really, Barbara. Can you try doing that again? At least I wouldn't have to relive senior year."
"Of course not. You woke me up, alright? I refuse to feel bad about anything I say, from here on out. It's all somehow your fault." Barbara gestures vaguely. "And, really, that's a great story. You should totally tell it to me, again, while we're reliving the past. And shut up, I know you liked high school, especially senior year." She leans back against the headboard, and settles in, shifting a little, and crossing her arms.
"Well, that's when I met you." William is genuinely enthusiastic. "But, I have a way better idea that does not involve nearly as much humiliation that I have been trying to repress for years. Or any awkward memories." William kisses her, bringing her closer.
Barbara presses her lips against his, and holds onto his shoulders, until they're right up against each other, in the center of the bed. Barbara breaks the contact for a moment, pulling away and lifting her shirt off. It's an old cotton one, almost threadbare, but when Barbara touches him again, he can feel the warmth of her skin, her spine shifting as she leans in, the way her shoulder blade flexes as she twists around, and pushes him down on the bed. "So, you think this doesn't involve all sorts of awkward memories from high school?" The lamplight casts Barbara in a sepia tone, all tans and shading. "I distinctly remember an afternoon when someone was not supposed to be on his feet, and oh, wouldn't it be a great idea to have sex, and lo and behold, that actually means no pressure at all otherwise you'll be crippled?"
William looks up at her. "Well, yes. But that was definitely the summer after high school, and as I recall, it was a pretty good memory." He bends this way and that, working his boxers off, until he slides them off his feet, at the end of the bed.
"Whatever. I'll give you that one." Barbara kisses the end of William's nose, and he plants his hands at her hips. The little lacy band of her pajama shorts scratches at the soft pads of his fingertips, and he slides them down, as his fingernails glance over her thighs. Barbara moves off to one side, and kicks them off all the way, grabbing a condom out of the drawer in the bedside table. She rips the packet open, and slides the condom on William, and steadies his hips with one hand, as she leans in over him.
*
William is kinda nerdy, and he knows it. He doesn't even really care who else knows it, and really, it's not like he has to hide it away, or anything. So, it comes to pass that on the first day of classes, William is walking to school, kicking the first few amber-colored leaves from underneath his feet, while desperately trying to keep his new burgundy-and-navy toe socks from getting mucky, even under his flip-flops. It's maybe a little too late in the year for sandals, but looking up at the clear blue sky, William is pretty sure that it's still summer somewhere; all summer at the children's bookstore, he wore his mid-calf jeans with just the sandals, but there should be some concession to back-to-school fashion, so he's opted for a longer pair of them, with a pink-red-green-black plaid patch on one knee.
William's mother gave him thirty dollars for new clothes, last week. He used it to buy sandwiches for the day laborers at the truck stop, and to bribe his sister with a new headband, in exchange for her old Bedazzled cardigan. He's got a white t-shirt on, underneath the cardigan, so it's not too much, even with the gold-tasseled scarf. As he turns onto Lord's Road, the long, poorly-patched half-mile to school, William even starts whistling. This is going to be a great year, he just knows it. Senior year is a big deal, but William is pretty sure that it's justified, because he's finally old enough to appreciate the really great things here, and wise enough to do something good with it. Plus, he's pretty sure that choir auditions are going to go well, later this week; Hannah has been talking about how awesome this freshman class is, and she claims that there's a totally sweet group, and you will not believe it, William, until you get to hear them sing.
Once he's within ear-shot of school, William totally cannot think; he likes silence, and the courtyard before classes, on the first day of school, is even worse that usual. Everyone is talking in little clusters, all about summer vacation, and schedules and whatever. William pushes past the cliques, and finds his best friend, William, loitering around the steps up to the classical brick building.
"Hey, Bill, how's it going?" William grins; he knows that William hates being called 'Bill,' but there are just some things that are too difficult to resist.
"Seriously, are you doing that again this year? It's getting tedious -- scratch that, it has always been tedious, you just haven't realized it yet." William's mother used to think that it was hilarious, how the two of them were never apart, and they even had the same name. No on ever mistakes them for the other; William is absolutely sure of that, ever since the time in fourth grade that their teacher had returned the wrong homework sheet to each boy, and they had sulked for nearly two days, afterwards.
"Well, yeah. I have to get my thrills somewhere, right?" William sighs, and straightens his collar, somehow actually aligning it more perfectly; even though William's seen this a million times, he's still pretty flipped out by how perfect William can get his clothes to look. It's just unnatural, he's pretty sure of it. Maybe William's actually an alien? It's unlikely, sure, but it happens in sci-fi movies and stuff all the time; by the law of averages, someone has to be an alien. And, okay, get their face eaten off, but that's immaterial.
William's pretty sure that he would be the guy who died and got his face eaten in the first five minutes. Gross. He starts listening to William again.
"Because that sweater totally doesn't provide enough excitement? Seriously, William, are you actually dressing up for some weird holiday, or do I just have to see you in that terrible thing since you're an enormous freak?" William smiles as he says this, though, so William's pretty sure it's okay.
William evaluates William; they've been apart for three months, but William looks pretty much the same. He's kept his hair short, and is wearing the same dull khakis and button-downs from last year. He looks almost tan, probably by accident; William has never seen William travel outside willingly for any period of time. "Hey, hey, I'll have you know that Sarah made this at home. There were some pretty delicate negotiations about me wearing it, I'll tell you."
"Like what? Did she make you promise to never tell anyone that you two are related?" Sarah is three years younger than William, and claims that this makes her three times as smart. She loves art, hence the Bedazzler, and is devoted to her pet rabbits. And, yes, she did make William promise to act like he's not her brother, this year, but that is not important. She'll relent, William is absolutely convinced.
William looks at William, and considers saying something snotty back. He's usually better at holding his tongue and not saying really mean things, but that doesn't mean that he can't. One of them needs to be able to socialize in a halfway coherent way, and William will just have to bear that cross. Plus, he doesn't really like making people cry, it has always struck him as somewhat cruel. He's mentioned as much to William, who looked genuinely puzzled, and William guesses that William just doesn't notice these things. "You are just jealous because I am so great. And yes," William speaks extra-quickly, "I will not be dignifying your questions about the sweater with an answer. It is sad that you cannot comprehend the awesome, really."
William looks at the sweater skeptically. "Okay. You can bring disco back all by your lonesome, then. I believe in you, really, William."
"No, that is not what I want to do. I just want to enjoy my awesome sweater in peace, is this too much to ask? Fine, you claim that it is, but I ask you, were I to successfully bring disco back, wouldn't you be really sad? All those other people, dancing with me and totally grooving out in a very, uh, groovy way, to like, the Bee Gees, while you would just have to stay over in the corner, all by your preppy lonesome. So, really, you should just want me to keep disco right where it is, otherwise our friendship will be imperiled, what with my incredible popularity and your usual, well, loserdom. Well, actually, that's not currently a problem, but disco would probably tear a terrible rift in our friendship." William nods in satisfaction at his own pronouncement.
William shakes his head. "No, that's not how it would work at all. Firstly, no one else would ever follow you in any trend. If they had, we'd be presented with a number of counter-examples, as to the efficacy of your ideas. Do you see anyone else here dressed in any of your terrible ideas? If anyone thought that any of your previous ideas were at all sane, which I caution, they weren't, they would just make even bigger fools of themselves, tripping over their scarves and all that. So not only will no one else join in your bizarre effort to bring disco back, and not only will they just look totally crazy, you will be responsible for grievous injuries to the whole of the student body, as well as the aesthetic one you're currently inflicting on me."
"You've been practicing for debate, haven't you? That's kind of cheating."
William rubs the back of his neck with one hand, the way he does whenever he wants to seem like he is listening, and is humbled by criticism, but, based on long observation, William knows that this is entirely an act, and that William is humbled by nothing. "Yeah, a little." He smiles, looking off to the side.
"Such a cheat. I cannot believe you. Seriously, though, debate is going to be awesome this year. We're totally going to slay the competition."
William straightens up. "See, William, this is why we don't let you join the traveling team, because you say things like 'slay the competition.' Honestly, how you manage to exist..." He trails off, waiting for William to insult him in turn.
William has entirely ceased paying attention to William, though. He is transfixed, entirely. Barbara Spooner has just arrived, walking in though the gates, and oh it nearly makes William feel like he's about to melt, from the ground up. She's followed by her whole troupe of friends, all perfectly arrayed, and she is absolutely, without a doubt, no questions asked, no qualifying statements needed, the most beautiful girl William has ever seen. Time slows down as she walks, and tosses her long red hair back over one shoulder, brushing the blue lace on her purple cardigan. She's always been perfect and gorgeous and all things bright and beautiful, but over the summer, she's just become more so.
Or perhaps he has just missed seeing her, like he could be inured to her beauty when he sees her during the school year, and the shock of how beautiful she is - it is just too much.
"Hey, Williams!" William is jerked out of his wonder as Henry loops an arm around his neck, and nearly throttles him. He's no longer pleasantly short of breath, as Henry pulls on him. "How was the summer? Good, good, fine, I know that you -- " he points at William, "probably did something useful and educational," William concedes the point with a small nod, "and you, well, I know, I saw you at Uncle Will's birthday before I got to spend a really excellent weekend with Marianne. All by our lonesome, right?"
William nods, frustrated that Henry has broken his concentration on Barbara. Well, alright, it's not like his looking at her does anything in particular, and he would never do anything like actually speak to her, still. It is the point of the thing. She is the prettiest and smartest girl in the whole school, and ever since they were in Calculus together last fall, William has been totally helpless in thinking about any other girl at all. Not that Barbara necessarily knows about this; William thinks that she might not even know his name.
Henry looks at him quizzically. "What is it, now, William? I know that you're dying to to hear about the weekend, but I am a gentleman, and would never tell." William stares stonily out into middle distance.
"Well, Henry, I think I speak for both of us when I say we don't want to hear about anything involving you and Marianne. How she puts up with you, I will never know," William offers up, and Henry's attention is entirely lifted from William's growing sulk. "And, no, that was not an invitation to try and tell me about it. Some things are just really not appreciated, and one of those things is your romance with Marianne. You can work on archiving all of her letters by yourself."
Laughing, Henry slaps William's shoulder. "Man, you need to get up to date on these things. I have a 'me and Marianne' label in my Gmail inbox, now."
William looks faintly horrified. "That's still creepy. Make him stop, please, William."
William focuses on his friends, who have started a shoving match; or well, Henry is enthusiastically shoving William, who is looking long-suffering. Again. "You're both freaks."
"Whatever, man." The bell for the start of first hour sounds, and William pulls out his schedule to double-check his first class, and waves a distracted good-bye to William. "You still have English with me, don't worry."
"I was not worried at all, Henry. Although you might want to consider saving the dirty jokes for like, the second class, so you'll have at least one period of the teacher not thinking you're a completely insane pervert?" Which is sometimes a real worry with Henry, especially since they're going to be doing Twentieth Century literature, so it's not like anything can be hidden in the language, which is mostly how Henry got through Latin, and like, every other class he has even been in with William; by making subtle dirty jokes, so he couldn't be immediately called on it. Henry can be subtle, if only in the service of harassing his teachers more effectively.
Henry waves a dismissive hand. "No, if Ms Hankey wasn't scared off by the thought of doing Shakespeare with us last year, she should be able to hold up to Hemingway. Or she could give us something normal to read." Smiling down at William, Henry takes on a snooty voice, "Really, I am shocked that you see foul things in this, Thornton. And don't think that I don't notice you, Wilberforce, chuckling there. This is not the kind of crude stimulation that you think it is." Henry falls apart laughing.
"It is pretty great being a senior, isn't it?" William asks, as the crowds in the corridor seem to melt away in front of them. "Last year here, and it's already taking on that nice nostalgic glow."
Henry snorts at this. "Yeah, sure, for those of us certain about heading off to UPenn. I plan on actually enjoying this year, you know. The football team has got a pretty good chance, you know. We're probably going to win at least one game this year. Definitely one, maybe more." They arrive at the classroom, and William pushes the door open, into the sunny, well-attired room, as dust motes cascade down, and the shelves of books look positively inspiring, rather than just oppressive.
"I am here, your lives can all start being enriched." Henry rushes in past William, and stands proudly at the front of the room, hands on his hips, smiling proudly. A few people, probably Henry's teammates, in the furthest back seats start a slow clap, as the whole room devolves into laughter. William smiles a little, and takes a seat at the side of the room.
"Well, Thornton, your enthusiasm is already evident." Ms Hankey clears her throat, and Henry looks ever-so-slightly abashed. He proudly sits next to William, and smiles up happily at Ms Hankey.
"Oh, yes, Ms Hankey. I have been waiting all summer to be back here, with you. It is truly a special time for me. Very special. Perhaps, to make me feel that all the more acutely, you could shorten our class time? Absence makes the heart grow fonder, like the immortal bard said." Henry flutters his lashes, and William looks eagerly on. Ms Hankey is usually unflappable, but that was almost too obvious, she'll have to do something now. Everyone in the room is clearly waiting.
"That'd be the immortal bard JC Hall, then?" William whispers to Henry. "I cannot believe that you have sunk to using Hallmark phrases to rile her. Really, I thought you were above that." Henry grins cryptically, or as cryptically as he can, with about the same amount of stealth as the Cheshire Cat.
"It's actually Thomas Bayly's 'Isle of Beauty.' Hey, William, Henry." James, who William thought was totally still abroad, leans back. "'Isle of Beauty, fare thee well' is the rest of the line."
"Thornton and Stephen, I am not shocked to see you all manifesting your delinquent tendencies this early in the year, although I am surprised, Wilberforce, you are usually a much better influence. Stay after class, which will certainly not be shortened by your attempt at clever intervention, Thornton."
Ms Hankey starts on her introductory lecture, about the value of literature, and how they will be reading real masterpieces this year, and ought to adequately prepare themselves for the wonder that they will be confronted with. William half pays attention, much more interested in James' presence.
"When did you get back? I thought you were gone for sure." William leans over his desk, to talk in James' ear.
James keeps looking straight ahead, and when he is convinced the Ms Hankey is safely ensconced in her talk about properly citing sources, and no, Wikipedia is not a source, or at least not one that it is proper to cite, and she will gruesomely fail anyone caught doing so, he whispers back, "Just last week. And, no, I told you that before I left."
"I thought you just liked Toronto better than Philadelphia. It's not an entirely unreasonable assumption to make, especially when you're involved. How was socialized healthcare, anyway?" James' parents are Canadian, and they've been moving back and forth for most of James' childhood; last year, he decided to move there, just to make sure that dual-citizenship was really worth it.
"If I say that it's pretty excellent, you're not going to be surprised, eh?" William snickers, and James looks a little abashed on hearing what he just said. "Honestly, it's not my fault. That is just what everyone says."
William nods, leaning closer to James. "Sure, yeah. So why'd you come back, if it was so great, eh? Not that I'm complaining. It'll be nice to see you around, and youth group has been way boring since you left." And it has been, since it's pretty much just William and Hannah, and Henry who will occasionally bring Marianne along, if there's not a good movie out. And sometimes Anna, if it's not volleyball season. It has been lonely for William.
"Citizenship requires that I reside in another country for six months, to prove that I'm not an asylum-seeker or totally devoid of personal financial support. Hey, I'm just quoting the legislation." James leans back a little further, into William's personal space. "No, I really wanted to do senior year here. I figure I have the rest of my life to explore the greater Toronto area, but only a year with you guys. Plus, the lease on the house expires in June, and my parents want someone there, to make sure that the place doesn't run to ruin."
William scribbles a note about the format of papers, but he's already taken classes from Ms Hankey, so he's pretty sure that it'll be the same. Currently, it's more important to talk to James. "Really? That's kind of amazing."
"Well, yeah, I thought so too, but next year at university I'm going to have to keep a flat, so this isn't bad practice." James modestly tilts his head, and the curve of his head almost comes up at William's nose; luckily, William moves away, so he doesn't end up with a bloody and broken nose on the first day of school, which would be unfortunately regressive. Ah, William thinks unfondly of elementary school. At least Josh Tarleton and them all have lacrosse now, to knock the snot out of each other, rather than needing to shove him around to deal with it all.
"I guess they don't have dorms up there? But, yeah, that's still pretty cool. You want to get lunch together, and actually tell me something about Toronto?" William is almost prostrate over his desk, and he can tell by the quiet rhythms of her voice that Ms Hankey is about ready to end the hour.
James nods, and the bell rings.
Most of the class hurries out, but Henry drags his feet and James and William are no more excited about Ms Hankey' rebuke. She's not exactly mean, but she, like all teachers, doesn't really understand all of the other things that are so much more exciting than taking notes on Emily Dickinson. Which, okay, William will give her that, they should at least pretend to be interested, but not everyone can be so fired up about poetry. William personally likes literature with actual value, like Upton Sinclair and John Steinbeck.
Ms Hankey is standing by her desk. "Now, boys. I know you are excited because it is the first day of classes, but honestly, give this at least a modicum of effort. It's not too taxing, really, and you should all enjoy some of what we're reading this semester. You especially, Wilberforce. You're in my afternoon seminar, and I expect better things from you, both here and there. Do you all understand? I have no interest in punishing any of you today, but if you persist in interrupting me, I will assign you detention. You're all dismissed." She waves them off, and as the door swings shut behind him, William sees her pull out a daytimer, and cross that hour off.
"Oh, man," Henry exhales in the rush, as he and James push through the crush of students, "that was not what I meant to do. Sorry, dudes."
James sighs. "Thanks for making me seem like a nuisance already. I got through a whole year in Toronto without once making any trouble, and what do I get back to? You guys." He's smiling, though, so it's probably not too serious.
"Oh, yeah. How was the Great White North?" The crowd has thinned out a little, as they climb up the stairs.
"Pretty great, but you knew I was going to say that. Did you know that they invaded and burnt the White House to the ground?"
"No, really?" Henry waves, climbing another bank of stairs beyond the level James and William have left off at.
William grins, as he walks alongside James to their French class. "It's good to be back, right," he says, slightly nervously, "and you'll not be way better at French than the rest of us?"
James walks into the classroom first. "Dream on, William. Of course I am. It just has nothing to do with being back here. Remember when we did Rousseau and I totally schooled you?" William scoffs, but Mr Stevens is kinda strict about them speaking French in the classroom, and William's good at it, but he can't carry on an idle and low-volume conversation quite as well as he can in English.
Later, at lunch, after Chemistry and spotting Barbara looking perfectly radiant in the hallway, William unpacks his lunch. The turkey sandwich looks alright, and the apple is still in season. He unscrews the tomato sauce jar that he's repurposed into a water bottle, and sighs.
Henry turns away from making out with Marianne and tells him, "Really, William. You can't be so oppressed by this place already, can you? Buck up and eat your organic chickens there." Marianne giggles, and William rolls his eyes really hard. "Look, my lunch is cruelty-free too, we're totally with you on it. It is just that you are totally ridiculous."
Marianne volunteers, "I went vegetarian, you know. It's been horrible, we can't go anywhere together anymore."
William rolls his eyes, and Henry is so close to saying something about how they'll get stuck that way, like he's William's mom, so he speaks up. "Oh yeah, anywhere at all. How many hours have you spent apart in the last week?" He knows it was at least a couple, because Marianne had been at choir, so they could get started on the music for the fall concert, and Henry can literally clap off-key, but it wouldn't be surprising if every other waking hour they'd been together. It is not generally annoying, but they're so couple-y, now. William unwraps his sandwich, and bites into it.
"Hey, now, couple of hours at least." Henry takes the chance, and talks while William's mouth is full. That's when I drove to buy hot dogs all by myself, and there I was, sitting at the counter, eating two chili dogs by myself, and the guy at the cash register asked me if I had friends. It was impossibly lonesome, hold me Marianne." She throws one arm over his shoulder and grins disconcertingly at William. "Seriously, if I had friends. I was going to be like, yeah me and the entire football team, but you know, it was a hot dog, I couldn't really stop to tell him what for. It was," Henry addresses Marianne, "a really really good hot dog, though. I can't believe you're doing this to yourself."
Marianne sniffs. "I am not doing it for me. Didn't you pay any attention when we talked about Fast Food Nation at William's assembly last year? You are the grossest, I can't believe you sometimes."
"Can't believe how awesome I am!" Henry holds up one hand for a high-five, and drops it sadly when one is not immediately forthcoming.
"Oh, yeah totally. Hey, Hannah." Marianne smiles, and waves to Hannah, and accidentally pokes Henry with her fingers, in the middle of the wave. "How was the morning?"
Hannah sighs hugely. "Oh, man, senior year is supposed to be easy. I've got Philosophy with Venn, and it is killer. Like, I have no idea how I'm going to survive that. He goes on and on, why did I ever want to sign up for it? But Painting and Drawing was good."
Marianne lights up. "Ooh, is that the one that Reynolds is teaching? He is so dreamy! Please tell me that he is, it will make Monday like, a thousand times better if I know that you're not suffering quite so much."
"I'm not suffering at all. It is Reynolds, yeah, but really, Marianne, dreamy? I understand why you're with Henry, now." Hannah opens her tin lunchbox up. "Oh, sweet, totally forgot I put a pudding cup in here. I'm not sharing, Henry."
"But you said I was ugly, you should be nice to me now!" He turns back to Marianne. "That was it, right? Reynolds isn't some young hottie teacher that they've got now?"
William looks up from where he's demolishing his sandwich. "Yeah, no. Same old Reynolds. I mean, I don't know. Is he?" Like Henry, William is pretty much unartistic, and has only seen Reynolds a few times, mostly while he's rushing around with paints. He's short, and has a badly-broken nose, but he's still pretty young for a teacher. That's probably it, Reynolds is young enough to still be partially a person, and not be completely boring, like the older teachers. That, as Marianne likes to start things like this, making up whatever vivid thing she's interested in, today.
Marianne says "oh yes" at the same time as Hannah says "no way." They both start laughing, and then Henry gets into it, and William laughs along
"I can't believe that we're seniors. So many good times to get though. We have dumb stuff to talk about, and everything to plan, and some great parties. This year is going to be the greatest, really. So much stuff to do, a whole school to rule, because we're the greatest. Class of 2007, yeah!" Henry punches the air, and stands up. The rest of the lunchroom is too busy to look at him, so he sits right back down.
Marianne looks at her watch. "Oh yeah, totally. Since I want to actually graduate, though, in between the parties, I'm going to head to class now. See you all later, at choir?" She stands up, and Henry hurries along, taking a last swig of his Sprite before looping his arm around Marianne's as they walk off. William stands too; he's got Mr Burke, who's kind of a stickler about tardiness, for Politics next.
"So, yeah, choir. Not going to be there today." Hannah chews on her pudding.
William puts his hands on his hips, only remembering as he does so that his mother says it makes him look kind of like a really annoyed chicken. Well, he'll just have to be one; this is totally unfair. "Hannah, you said you would! I'm not going to be the only senior at auditions, that's just too much. Now it's just going to be me and weird Mr Newton." He sighs dramatically.
Hannah looks at him very disparagingly. "Whatever, William. You and Mr Newton and however many freshmen and any other underclassmen who want to join up. So alone." She relents. "Marianne might be there, if Henry hasn't already whisked her off, and Anna will definitely be there. You can deal with it just fine."
William knows he's whining, but this kind of thing calls for it. "Can't you be there? You deal with these things so much better than I do."
"You mean other people?" Hannah grins. "No, I can't. I have a physics lab that afternoon, and I can't be in two places at once. Strong am I with the Force, but not that strong. You'll be fine, dealing with people isn't a totally female thing, you know this." They have discussed it at great length. Hannah has convictions about these things, and William isn't going to failboat it up, but it doesn't mean he has to be graceful about this. He isn't generally, why start now?
William nods politely, and groans when he actually thinks about the disaster awaiting him in the music room. "More Star Wars? Hannah, you know that someday, we won't just be able to spend youth group watching your DVDs. Please?"
"Yeah, sure. That'll be when you actually go to choir try-outs without whining and moaning. See you later!" Hannah turns around, and rushes down the hallway, leaving William totally bereft. This is going to be so awful, he knows it already. He likes choir, it's actually fun most of the time, but oh, he really doesn't like actually organizing these things. He's not even any good at it, which Hannah knows, after last year's debacle of a retreat. William may have left the altos in the parking lot, but they really should have listened when he told everyone to get on the bus. And yes, maybe he should have tried not to lose the sopranos, especially after the first few, but it's camping. You ought to pay attention to low-hanging branches.
It was a lot quieter after the sopranos got more or less simultaneously concussed, as well. William wonders if he could work that into rehearsals this year, without it being too noticeably his fault. They did not have a retreat this year, for obvious reasons.
And Mr Newton, though William totally likes him, is even worse as this stuff. He's really inspirational when they're all listening, and he can hold the attention of a hundred and fifty easily-distracted teenagers. But he's so quiet before that, like he's almost kind of apologetic for being there, that he can never get the attendance sheet going or keep people from talking. It means a ton of extra work for the seniors, doing all of the administration, and William knows that it's great to be a senior, but he wasn't expecting this now. Well, fine, he was, but he really does not want to do it.
He decides that standing around looking stunned is not helping anything, and heads off, after a quick look at the hall clock, to tell William about this latest indignity and make sure that he can get a ride, since it'll be dark by the time they finish.
William drives in; William doesn't have his license yet, and isn't really sure he needs it. He's not going to go anywhere special this year, and UPenn is already recruiting, and they have an excellent transport system. William lives almost half an hour away, though, out in the real suburbs, and William will admit that it's nice to have a friend with a car. So it's probably annoying for William, but considering that William totally offers to drive, it is just that his parents are hardly going to get him a car, well. William can deal.
yesss, it is 1/????
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, you still have to be my friend.
The actual saddest part is the international slave trade! Now this fandom will in fact be fifty percent high school au's, as we have always wanted. And it is your birthday, and about what you want (me! and also what I want.)
Birthdays are always celebrated with incoherent commentary, sexytimes, bare wisps of plot and a premise which will make zero sense to anyone at all.
Review and Expectation
Amazing Grace (2006): William Wilberforce/Barbara Spooner, William Pitt Jr/Thomas Clarkson, Henry Thornton/Marianne Sykes, and James Stephen, Hannah More, Charles Fox, Olaudah Equiano.
Way to go, William thinks, way to be the lamest human being alive, or possibly ever. He looks down at the mud stain on the shin of his bright red corduroys, and tries not to feel inadequate.
Title from the song by John Newton presently known as "Amazing Grace," then known as "Faith's Review and Expectation" or "hymn 41."
William rolls over in bed, and kisses Barbara's neck. She half-heartedly swats him away; it's early on a Friday evening, but this time of year, Barbara is swamped at work, and generally ignores William for the whole month, only occasionally nodding at him when she leaves in the morning, and mumbling around her words at dinner. William used to be depressed by it, but after years of the same thing, he's made his peace with it; March is a pretty terrible month to be married to a tax lawyer. But the other eleven months of the year, William is pretty sure that he does enough flighty things to make up for it, so he tries to keep out of the way, and make something nice for dinner on the 16th of April.
William kisses Barbara again, this time on the shell of her ear.
"What? William, I really will hit you right in the face if you don't stop it." Barbara blinks furiously, coming back to full awakeness. She holds her hair back from her face with one hand, and glares at William. He pouts at her, sticking out his lower lip and looking very sad indeed. "Not even your cow eyes will make it better."
"Oh," William rebuts, "they're not cow eyes. Those are broad and stupid." William sits up in bed, and looks over at Barbara, and uses his index and middle finger to pull his brow up and push his cheeks down, "Like this; these are cow eyes," until his eyes look huge, set in a flat face. "Moo."
"No, William. Go away."
"Moo."
Barbara laughs at him, and sits up, even as William continues to intermittently moo. "Fine, fine, you win. Those are cow eyes, everyone agrees."
"Well, I only show them to you. It's a very special moment, you know, between married people. Only then can a man show off his killer cow impression to his wife. Otherwise, it's right out. So, really, no one else can agree, it's your word that I look silly against everyone else's that I have perfect sad eyes." William is very pleased with himself; Barbara is still smiling. Since this is precisely what he usually gets when he woefully looks at junior legislators, with his totally convincing sad, sad, sad eyes, he chalks up another victory for the eyes. Well, okay, not precisely, since he doesn't actually sleep with his staff, but they get him coffee and copy things for him, which is pretty much the workplace equivalent.
Barbara rolls her eyes, and turns on her bedside light. "Yes, I know when we were first dating, you never made silly faces like that. I had to wait years, right up until we got to the altar." She grins at him, perfectly aware that nothing could be further from the truth. Her face takes on a thoughtful cast. "William, do you remember what you were like in high school at all? Not just the vast number of pretty idiotic expressions, not even counting the time that you gatecrashed the Hawaiian Princess Exposition --"
William cuts Barbara off, even if she is flattering his sense of humor. "Yes, this is totally the night to bring up my terrible defeat at the hands of Joshua Tarleton, and the rest of the lacrosse team. We shouldn't even have to go into how crude that was, and how it was totally improved by being broken up. I think I liked you more when you were asleep, really, Barbara. Can you try doing that again? At least I wouldn't have to relive senior year."
"Of course not. You woke me up, alright? I refuse to feel bad about anything I say, from here on out. It's all somehow your fault." Barbara gestures vaguely. "And, really, that's a great story. You should totally tell it to me, again, while we're reliving the past. And shut up, I know you liked high school, especially senior year." She leans back against the headboard, and settles in, shifting a little, and crossing her arms.
"Well, that's when I met you." William is genuinely enthusiastic. "But, I have a way better idea that does not involve nearly as much humiliation that I have been trying to repress for years. Or any awkward memories." William kisses her, bringing her closer.
Barbara presses her lips against his, and holds onto his shoulders, until they're right up against each other, in the center of the bed. Barbara breaks the contact for a moment, pulling away and lifting her shirt off. It's an old cotton one, almost threadbare, but when Barbara touches him again, he can feel the warmth of her skin, her spine shifting as she leans in, the way her shoulder blade flexes as she twists around, and pushes him down on the bed. "So, you think this doesn't involve all sorts of awkward memories from high school?" The lamplight casts Barbara in a sepia tone, all tans and shading. "I distinctly remember an afternoon when someone was not supposed to be on his feet, and oh, wouldn't it be a great idea to have sex, and lo and behold, that actually means no pressure at all otherwise you'll be crippled?"
William looks up at her. "Well, yes. But that was definitely the summer after high school, and as I recall, it was a pretty good memory." He bends this way and that, working his boxers off, until he slides them off his feet, at the end of the bed.
"Whatever. I'll give you that one." Barbara kisses the end of William's nose, and he plants his hands at her hips. The little lacy band of her pajama shorts scratches at the soft pads of his fingertips, and he slides them down, as his fingernails glance over her thighs. Barbara moves off to one side, and kicks them off all the way, grabbing a condom out of the drawer in the bedside table. She rips the packet open, and slides the condom on William, and steadies his hips with one hand, as she leans in over him.
*
William is kinda nerdy, and he knows it. He doesn't even really care who else knows it, and really, it's not like he has to hide it away, or anything. So, it comes to pass that on the first day of classes, William is walking to school, kicking the first few amber-colored leaves from underneath his feet, while desperately trying to keep his new burgundy-and-navy toe socks from getting mucky, even under his flip-flops. It's maybe a little too late in the year for sandals, but looking up at the clear blue sky, William is pretty sure that it's still summer somewhere; all summer at the children's bookstore, he wore his mid-calf jeans with just the sandals, but there should be some concession to back-to-school fashion, so he's opted for a longer pair of them, with a pink-red-green-black plaid patch on one knee.
William's mother gave him thirty dollars for new clothes, last week. He used it to buy sandwiches for the day laborers at the truck stop, and to bribe his sister with a new headband, in exchange for her old Bedazzled cardigan. He's got a white t-shirt on, underneath the cardigan, so it's not too much, even with the gold-tasseled scarf. As he turns onto Lord's Road, the long, poorly-patched half-mile to school, William even starts whistling. This is going to be a great year, he just knows it. Senior year is a big deal, but William is pretty sure that it's justified, because he's finally old enough to appreciate the really great things here, and wise enough to do something good with it. Plus, he's pretty sure that choir auditions are going to go well, later this week; Hannah has been talking about how awesome this freshman class is, and she claims that there's a totally sweet group, and you will not believe it, William, until you get to hear them sing.
Once he's within ear-shot of school, William totally cannot think; he likes silence, and the courtyard before classes, on the first day of school, is even worse that usual. Everyone is talking in little clusters, all about summer vacation, and schedules and whatever. William pushes past the cliques, and finds his best friend, William, loitering around the steps up to the classical brick building.
"Hey, Bill, how's it going?" William grins; he knows that William hates being called 'Bill,' but there are just some things that are too difficult to resist.
"Seriously, are you doing that again this year? It's getting tedious -- scratch that, it has always been tedious, you just haven't realized it yet." William's mother used to think that it was hilarious, how the two of them were never apart, and they even had the same name. No on ever mistakes them for the other; William is absolutely sure of that, ever since the time in fourth grade that their teacher had returned the wrong homework sheet to each boy, and they had sulked for nearly two days, afterwards.
"Well, yeah. I have to get my thrills somewhere, right?" William sighs, and straightens his collar, somehow actually aligning it more perfectly; even though William's seen this a million times, he's still pretty flipped out by how perfect William can get his clothes to look. It's just unnatural, he's pretty sure of it. Maybe William's actually an alien? It's unlikely, sure, but it happens in sci-fi movies and stuff all the time; by the law of averages, someone has to be an alien. And, okay, get their face eaten off, but that's immaterial.
William's pretty sure that he would be the guy who died and got his face eaten in the first five minutes. Gross. He starts listening to William again.
"Because that sweater totally doesn't provide enough excitement? Seriously, William, are you actually dressing up for some weird holiday, or do I just have to see you in that terrible thing since you're an enormous freak?" William smiles as he says this, though, so William's pretty sure it's okay.
William evaluates William; they've been apart for three months, but William looks pretty much the same. He's kept his hair short, and is wearing the same dull khakis and button-downs from last year. He looks almost tan, probably by accident; William has never seen William travel outside willingly for any period of time. "Hey, hey, I'll have you know that Sarah made this at home. There were some pretty delicate negotiations about me wearing it, I'll tell you."
"Like what? Did she make you promise to never tell anyone that you two are related?" Sarah is three years younger than William, and claims that this makes her three times as smart. She loves art, hence the Bedazzler, and is devoted to her pet rabbits. And, yes, she did make William promise to act like he's not her brother, this year, but that is not important. She'll relent, William is absolutely convinced.
William looks at William, and considers saying something snotty back. He's usually better at holding his tongue and not saying really mean things, but that doesn't mean that he can't. One of them needs to be able to socialize in a halfway coherent way, and William will just have to bear that cross. Plus, he doesn't really like making people cry, it has always struck him as somewhat cruel. He's mentioned as much to William, who looked genuinely puzzled, and William guesses that William just doesn't notice these things. "You are just jealous because I am so great. And yes," William speaks extra-quickly, "I will not be dignifying your questions about the sweater with an answer. It is sad that you cannot comprehend the awesome, really."
William looks at the sweater skeptically. "Okay. You can bring disco back all by your lonesome, then. I believe in you, really, William."
"No, that is not what I want to do. I just want to enjoy my awesome sweater in peace, is this too much to ask? Fine, you claim that it is, but I ask you, were I to successfully bring disco back, wouldn't you be really sad? All those other people, dancing with me and totally grooving out in a very, uh, groovy way, to like, the Bee Gees, while you would just have to stay over in the corner, all by your preppy lonesome. So, really, you should just want me to keep disco right where it is, otherwise our friendship will be imperiled, what with my incredible popularity and your usual, well, loserdom. Well, actually, that's not currently a problem, but disco would probably tear a terrible rift in our friendship." William nods in satisfaction at his own pronouncement.
William shakes his head. "No, that's not how it would work at all. Firstly, no one else would ever follow you in any trend. If they had, we'd be presented with a number of counter-examples, as to the efficacy of your ideas. Do you see anyone else here dressed in any of your terrible ideas? If anyone thought that any of your previous ideas were at all sane, which I caution, they weren't, they would just make even bigger fools of themselves, tripping over their scarves and all that. So not only will no one else join in your bizarre effort to bring disco back, and not only will they just look totally crazy, you will be responsible for grievous injuries to the whole of the student body, as well as the aesthetic one you're currently inflicting on me."
"You've been practicing for debate, haven't you? That's kind of cheating."
William rubs the back of his neck with one hand, the way he does whenever he wants to seem like he is listening, and is humbled by criticism, but, based on long observation, William knows that this is entirely an act, and that William is humbled by nothing. "Yeah, a little." He smiles, looking off to the side.
"Such a cheat. I cannot believe you. Seriously, though, debate is going to be awesome this year. We're totally going to slay the competition."
William straightens up. "See, William, this is why we don't let you join the traveling team, because you say things like 'slay the competition.' Honestly, how you manage to exist..." He trails off, waiting for William to insult him in turn.
William has entirely ceased paying attention to William, though. He is transfixed, entirely. Barbara Spooner has just arrived, walking in though the gates, and oh it nearly makes William feel like he's about to melt, from the ground up. She's followed by her whole troupe of friends, all perfectly arrayed, and she is absolutely, without a doubt, no questions asked, no qualifying statements needed, the most beautiful girl William has ever seen. Time slows down as she walks, and tosses her long red hair back over one shoulder, brushing the blue lace on her purple cardigan. She's always been perfect and gorgeous and all things bright and beautiful, but over the summer, she's just become more so.
Or perhaps he has just missed seeing her, like he could be inured to her beauty when he sees her during the school year, and the shock of how beautiful she is - it is just too much.
"Hey, Williams!" William is jerked out of his wonder as Henry loops an arm around his neck, and nearly throttles him. He's no longer pleasantly short of breath, as Henry pulls on him. "How was the summer? Good, good, fine, I know that you -- " he points at William, "probably did something useful and educational," William concedes the point with a small nod, "and you, well, I know, I saw you at Uncle Will's birthday before I got to spend a really excellent weekend with Marianne. All by our lonesome, right?"
William nods, frustrated that Henry has broken his concentration on Barbara. Well, alright, it's not like his looking at her does anything in particular, and he would never do anything like actually speak to her, still. It is the point of the thing. She is the prettiest and smartest girl in the whole school, and ever since they were in Calculus together last fall, William has been totally helpless in thinking about any other girl at all. Not that Barbara necessarily knows about this; William thinks that she might not even know his name.
Henry looks at him quizzically. "What is it, now, William? I know that you're dying to to hear about the weekend, but I am a gentleman, and would never tell." William stares stonily out into middle distance.
"Well, Henry, I think I speak for both of us when I say we don't want to hear about anything involving you and Marianne. How she puts up with you, I will never know," William offers up, and Henry's attention is entirely lifted from William's growing sulk. "And, no, that was not an invitation to try and tell me about it. Some things are just really not appreciated, and one of those things is your romance with Marianne. You can work on archiving all of her letters by yourself."
Laughing, Henry slaps William's shoulder. "Man, you need to get up to date on these things. I have a 'me and Marianne' label in my Gmail inbox, now."
William looks faintly horrified. "That's still creepy. Make him stop, please, William."
William focuses on his friends, who have started a shoving match; or well, Henry is enthusiastically shoving William, who is looking long-suffering. Again. "You're both freaks."
"Whatever, man." The bell for the start of first hour sounds, and William pulls out his schedule to double-check his first class, and waves a distracted good-bye to William. "You still have English with me, don't worry."
"I was not worried at all, Henry. Although you might want to consider saving the dirty jokes for like, the second class, so you'll have at least one period of the teacher not thinking you're a completely insane pervert?" Which is sometimes a real worry with Henry, especially since they're going to be doing Twentieth Century literature, so it's not like anything can be hidden in the language, which is mostly how Henry got through Latin, and like, every other class he has even been in with William; by making subtle dirty jokes, so he couldn't be immediately called on it. Henry can be subtle, if only in the service of harassing his teachers more effectively.
Henry waves a dismissive hand. "No, if Ms Hankey wasn't scared off by the thought of doing Shakespeare with us last year, she should be able to hold up to Hemingway. Or she could give us something normal to read." Smiling down at William, Henry takes on a snooty voice, "Really, I am shocked that you see foul things in this, Thornton. And don't think that I don't notice you, Wilberforce, chuckling there. This is not the kind of crude stimulation that you think it is." Henry falls apart laughing.
"It is pretty great being a senior, isn't it?" William asks, as the crowds in the corridor seem to melt away in front of them. "Last year here, and it's already taking on that nice nostalgic glow."
Henry snorts at this. "Yeah, sure, for those of us certain about heading off to UPenn. I plan on actually enjoying this year, you know. The football team has got a pretty good chance, you know. We're probably going to win at least one game this year. Definitely one, maybe more." They arrive at the classroom, and William pushes the door open, into the sunny, well-attired room, as dust motes cascade down, and the shelves of books look positively inspiring, rather than just oppressive.
"I am here, your lives can all start being enriched." Henry rushes in past William, and stands proudly at the front of the room, hands on his hips, smiling proudly. A few people, probably Henry's teammates, in the furthest back seats start a slow clap, as the whole room devolves into laughter. William smiles a little, and takes a seat at the side of the room.
"Well, Thornton, your enthusiasm is already evident." Ms Hankey clears her throat, and Henry looks ever-so-slightly abashed. He proudly sits next to William, and smiles up happily at Ms Hankey.
"Oh, yes, Ms Hankey. I have been waiting all summer to be back here, with you. It is truly a special time for me. Very special. Perhaps, to make me feel that all the more acutely, you could shorten our class time? Absence makes the heart grow fonder, like the immortal bard said." Henry flutters his lashes, and William looks eagerly on. Ms Hankey is usually unflappable, but that was almost too obvious, she'll have to do something now. Everyone in the room is clearly waiting.
"That'd be the immortal bard JC Hall, then?" William whispers to Henry. "I cannot believe that you have sunk to using Hallmark phrases to rile her. Really, I thought you were above that." Henry grins cryptically, or as cryptically as he can, with about the same amount of stealth as the Cheshire Cat.
"It's actually Thomas Bayly's 'Isle of Beauty.' Hey, William, Henry." James, who William thought was totally still abroad, leans back. "'Isle of Beauty, fare thee well' is the rest of the line."
"Thornton and Stephen, I am not shocked to see you all manifesting your delinquent tendencies this early in the year, although I am surprised, Wilberforce, you are usually a much better influence. Stay after class, which will certainly not be shortened by your attempt at clever intervention, Thornton."
Ms Hankey starts on her introductory lecture, about the value of literature, and how they will be reading real masterpieces this year, and ought to adequately prepare themselves for the wonder that they will be confronted with. William half pays attention, much more interested in James' presence.
"When did you get back? I thought you were gone for sure." William leans over his desk, to talk in James' ear.
James keeps looking straight ahead, and when he is convinced the Ms Hankey is safely ensconced in her talk about properly citing sources, and no, Wikipedia is not a source, or at least not one that it is proper to cite, and she will gruesomely fail anyone caught doing so, he whispers back, "Just last week. And, no, I told you that before I left."
"I thought you just liked Toronto better than Philadelphia. It's not an entirely unreasonable assumption to make, especially when you're involved. How was socialized healthcare, anyway?" James' parents are Canadian, and they've been moving back and forth for most of James' childhood; last year, he decided to move there, just to make sure that dual-citizenship was really worth it.
"If I say that it's pretty excellent, you're not going to be surprised, eh?" William snickers, and James looks a little abashed on hearing what he just said. "Honestly, it's not my fault. That is just what everyone says."
William nods, leaning closer to James. "Sure, yeah. So why'd you come back, if it was so great, eh? Not that I'm complaining. It'll be nice to see you around, and youth group has been way boring since you left." And it has been, since it's pretty much just William and Hannah, and Henry who will occasionally bring Marianne along, if there's not a good movie out. And sometimes Anna, if it's not volleyball season. It has been lonely for William.
"Citizenship requires that I reside in another country for six months, to prove that I'm not an asylum-seeker or totally devoid of personal financial support. Hey, I'm just quoting the legislation." James leans back a little further, into William's personal space. "No, I really wanted to do senior year here. I figure I have the rest of my life to explore the greater Toronto area, but only a year with you guys. Plus, the lease on the house expires in June, and my parents want someone there, to make sure that the place doesn't run to ruin."
William scribbles a note about the format of papers, but he's already taken classes from Ms Hankey, so he's pretty sure that it'll be the same. Currently, it's more important to talk to James. "Really? That's kind of amazing."
"Well, yeah, I thought so too, but next year at university I'm going to have to keep a flat, so this isn't bad practice." James modestly tilts his head, and the curve of his head almost comes up at William's nose; luckily, William moves away, so he doesn't end up with a bloody and broken nose on the first day of school, which would be unfortunately regressive. Ah, William thinks unfondly of elementary school. At least Josh Tarleton and them all have lacrosse now, to knock the snot out of each other, rather than needing to shove him around to deal with it all.
"I guess they don't have dorms up there? But, yeah, that's still pretty cool. You want to get lunch together, and actually tell me something about Toronto?" William is almost prostrate over his desk, and he can tell by the quiet rhythms of her voice that Ms Hankey is about ready to end the hour.
James nods, and the bell rings.
Most of the class hurries out, but Henry drags his feet and James and William are no more excited about Ms Hankey' rebuke. She's not exactly mean, but she, like all teachers, doesn't really understand all of the other things that are so much more exciting than taking notes on Emily Dickinson. Which, okay, William will give her that, they should at least pretend to be interested, but not everyone can be so fired up about poetry. William personally likes literature with actual value, like Upton Sinclair and John Steinbeck.
Ms Hankey is standing by her desk. "Now, boys. I know you are excited because it is the first day of classes, but honestly, give this at least a modicum of effort. It's not too taxing, really, and you should all enjoy some of what we're reading this semester. You especially, Wilberforce. You're in my afternoon seminar, and I expect better things from you, both here and there. Do you all understand? I have no interest in punishing any of you today, but if you persist in interrupting me, I will assign you detention. You're all dismissed." She waves them off, and as the door swings shut behind him, William sees her pull out a daytimer, and cross that hour off.
"Oh, man," Henry exhales in the rush, as he and James push through the crush of students, "that was not what I meant to do. Sorry, dudes."
James sighs. "Thanks for making me seem like a nuisance already. I got through a whole year in Toronto without once making any trouble, and what do I get back to? You guys." He's smiling, though, so it's probably not too serious.
"Oh, yeah. How was the Great White North?" The crowd has thinned out a little, as they climb up the stairs.
"Pretty great, but you knew I was going to say that. Did you know that they invaded and burnt the White House to the ground?"
"No, really?" Henry waves, climbing another bank of stairs beyond the level James and William have left off at.
William grins, as he walks alongside James to their French class. "It's good to be back, right," he says, slightly nervously, "and you'll not be way better at French than the rest of us?"
James walks into the classroom first. "Dream on, William. Of course I am. It just has nothing to do with being back here. Remember when we did Rousseau and I totally schooled you?" William scoffs, but Mr Stevens is kinda strict about them speaking French in the classroom, and William's good at it, but he can't carry on an idle and low-volume conversation quite as well as he can in English.
Later, at lunch, after Chemistry and spotting Barbara looking perfectly radiant in the hallway, William unpacks his lunch. The turkey sandwich looks alright, and the apple is still in season. He unscrews the tomato sauce jar that he's repurposed into a water bottle, and sighs.
Henry turns away from making out with Marianne and tells him, "Really, William. You can't be so oppressed by this place already, can you? Buck up and eat your organic chickens there." Marianne giggles, and William rolls his eyes really hard. "Look, my lunch is cruelty-free too, we're totally with you on it. It is just that you are totally ridiculous."
Marianne volunteers, "I went vegetarian, you know. It's been horrible, we can't go anywhere together anymore."
William rolls his eyes, and Henry is so close to saying something about how they'll get stuck that way, like he's William's mom, so he speaks up. "Oh yeah, anywhere at all. How many hours have you spent apart in the last week?" He knows it was at least a couple, because Marianne had been at choir, so they could get started on the music for the fall concert, and Henry can literally clap off-key, but it wouldn't be surprising if every other waking hour they'd been together. It is not generally annoying, but they're so couple-y, now. William unwraps his sandwich, and bites into it.
"Hey, now, couple of hours at least." Henry takes the chance, and talks while William's mouth is full. That's when I drove to buy hot dogs all by myself, and there I was, sitting at the counter, eating two chili dogs by myself, and the guy at the cash register asked me if I had friends. It was impossibly lonesome, hold me Marianne." She throws one arm over his shoulder and grins disconcertingly at William. "Seriously, if I had friends. I was going to be like, yeah me and the entire football team, but you know, it was a hot dog, I couldn't really stop to tell him what for. It was," Henry addresses Marianne, "a really really good hot dog, though. I can't believe you're doing this to yourself."
Marianne sniffs. "I am not doing it for me. Didn't you pay any attention when we talked about Fast Food Nation at William's assembly last year? You are the grossest, I can't believe you sometimes."
"Can't believe how awesome I am!" Henry holds up one hand for a high-five, and drops it sadly when one is not immediately forthcoming.
"Oh, yeah totally. Hey, Hannah." Marianne smiles, and waves to Hannah, and accidentally pokes Henry with her fingers, in the middle of the wave. "How was the morning?"
Hannah sighs hugely. "Oh, man, senior year is supposed to be easy. I've got Philosophy with Venn, and it is killer. Like, I have no idea how I'm going to survive that. He goes on and on, why did I ever want to sign up for it? But Painting and Drawing was good."
Marianne lights up. "Ooh, is that the one that Reynolds is teaching? He is so dreamy! Please tell me that he is, it will make Monday like, a thousand times better if I know that you're not suffering quite so much."
"I'm not suffering at all. It is Reynolds, yeah, but really, Marianne, dreamy? I understand why you're with Henry, now." Hannah opens her tin lunchbox up. "Oh, sweet, totally forgot I put a pudding cup in here. I'm not sharing, Henry."
"But you said I was ugly, you should be nice to me now!" He turns back to Marianne. "That was it, right? Reynolds isn't some young hottie teacher that they've got now?"
William looks up from where he's demolishing his sandwich. "Yeah, no. Same old Reynolds. I mean, I don't know. Is he?" Like Henry, William is pretty much unartistic, and has only seen Reynolds a few times, mostly while he's rushing around with paints. He's short, and has a badly-broken nose, but he's still pretty young for a teacher. That's probably it, Reynolds is young enough to still be partially a person, and not be completely boring, like the older teachers. That, as Marianne likes to start things like this, making up whatever vivid thing she's interested in, today.
Marianne says "oh yes" at the same time as Hannah says "no way." They both start laughing, and then Henry gets into it, and William laughs along
"I can't believe that we're seniors. So many good times to get though. We have dumb stuff to talk about, and everything to plan, and some great parties. This year is going to be the greatest, really. So much stuff to do, a whole school to rule, because we're the greatest. Class of 2007, yeah!" Henry punches the air, and stands up. The rest of the lunchroom is too busy to look at him, so he sits right back down.
Marianne looks at her watch. "Oh yeah, totally. Since I want to actually graduate, though, in between the parties, I'm going to head to class now. See you all later, at choir?" She stands up, and Henry hurries along, taking a last swig of his Sprite before looping his arm around Marianne's as they walk off. William stands too; he's got Mr Burke, who's kind of a stickler about tardiness, for Politics next.
"So, yeah, choir. Not going to be there today." Hannah chews on her pudding.
William puts his hands on his hips, only remembering as he does so that his mother says it makes him look kind of like a really annoyed chicken. Well, he'll just have to be one; this is totally unfair. "Hannah, you said you would! I'm not going to be the only senior at auditions, that's just too much. Now it's just going to be me and weird Mr Newton." He sighs dramatically.
Hannah looks at him very disparagingly. "Whatever, William. You and Mr Newton and however many freshmen and any other underclassmen who want to join up. So alone." She relents. "Marianne might be there, if Henry hasn't already whisked her off, and Anna will definitely be there. You can deal with it just fine."
William knows he's whining, but this kind of thing calls for it. "Can't you be there? You deal with these things so much better than I do."
"You mean other people?" Hannah grins. "No, I can't. I have a physics lab that afternoon, and I can't be in two places at once. Strong am I with the Force, but not that strong. You'll be fine, dealing with people isn't a totally female thing, you know this." They have discussed it at great length. Hannah has convictions about these things, and William isn't going to failboat it up, but it doesn't mean he has to be graceful about this. He isn't generally, why start now?
William nods politely, and groans when he actually thinks about the disaster awaiting him in the music room. "More Star Wars? Hannah, you know that someday, we won't just be able to spend youth group watching your DVDs. Please?"
"Yeah, sure. That'll be when you actually go to choir try-outs without whining and moaning. See you later!" Hannah turns around, and rushes down the hallway, leaving William totally bereft. This is going to be so awful, he knows it already. He likes choir, it's actually fun most of the time, but oh, he really doesn't like actually organizing these things. He's not even any good at it, which Hannah knows, after last year's debacle of a retreat. William may have left the altos in the parking lot, but they really should have listened when he told everyone to get on the bus. And yes, maybe he should have tried not to lose the sopranos, especially after the first few, but it's camping. You ought to pay attention to low-hanging branches.
It was a lot quieter after the sopranos got more or less simultaneously concussed, as well. William wonders if he could work that into rehearsals this year, without it being too noticeably his fault. They did not have a retreat this year, for obvious reasons.
And Mr Newton, though William totally likes him, is even worse as this stuff. He's really inspirational when they're all listening, and he can hold the attention of a hundred and fifty easily-distracted teenagers. But he's so quiet before that, like he's almost kind of apologetic for being there, that he can never get the attendance sheet going or keep people from talking. It means a ton of extra work for the seniors, doing all of the administration, and William knows that it's great to be a senior, but he wasn't expecting this now. Well, fine, he was, but he really does not want to do it.
He decides that standing around looking stunned is not helping anything, and heads off, after a quick look at the hall clock, to tell William about this latest indignity and make sure that he can get a ride, since it'll be dark by the time they finish.
William drives in; William doesn't have his license yet, and isn't really sure he needs it. He's not going to go anywhere special this year, and UPenn is already recruiting, and they have an excellent transport system. William lives almost half an hour away, though, out in the real suburbs, and William will admit that it's nice to have a friend with a car. So it's probably annoying for William, but considering that William totally offers to drive, it is just that his parents are hardly going to get him a car, well. William can deal.
yesss, it is 1/????
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, you still have to be my friend.