Fuel To My Fire [2/10]
Title: Fuel To My Fire
Chapter: Two
Rating: R overall, for language and whatnot.
Summary: "It's your own fault, son." My Dad had adopted the same tone as his wife. They were trying to be calm to piss me off. Boarding school was meant to piss me off.
Disclaimer: I had a chat with the bank, I can't afford them.
Chapter One
I'd met Jeff on the Friday, and over Saturday and Sunday we got to know each other more and more. We got on like a house on fire because he had guitars, a lot of them. Next to the TV, there was a guitar rack holding four electrics and one acoustic, and next to that, an amp with more knobs and switches on it than the inside of an airplane cock-pit. He told me I was allowed to use them whenever I wanted because I couldn't bring my own. I was kind of intimidated by his playing though, so I never used them in front of him.
"So, you made any more friends yet, Pierre?" Seb asked on Sunday, he'd been hanging out with us a lot over the weekend, filling me in on all the school gossip.
"No, not yet, I haven't really seen anyone around."
He smiled gently, "You should do tomorrow when class starts, you'll have more of a chance to mix with people. If not, we'll introduce you to a couple of our friends that you haven't met yet, right Jeff?"
"Yeah, sure," Jeff said, he was checking himself out in the mirror on the inside of his built in closet. I didn't really know why, it seemed he was examining the hair which he didn't have.
Over the last couple of nights I'd managed to sleep pretty well. Despite his appearance, Jeff didn't snore at all. On Sunday night, however, I tossed and turned all night worrying about the next day, Tim Armstrong was becoming a patronising nuisance.
Seb's Dad had turned up on Saturday afternoon to drop off my class schedule, a map, and a little card thing which stated that I was a boarder so I didn't have to pay for my food -it was a package deal in my tuition fees, some kids went home every day and paid for lunch.
The times on my schedule looked simple enough on paper, but when Monday morning came I fell out of bed in an incredibly tired stupor, searching through my closet, struggling to find each part of my uniform. I wasn't dreading having to wear it because I'd already tried it on at home and it looked alright on me. Jeff laughed when I couldn't do my tie up, my Dad had reluctantly tied it for me when I was at home.
"Need a little help?" Jeff asked, having done his own up swiftly with practiced precision. I nodded and let him tie it for me, resisting the urge to fall onto his chest and sleep. He promised he'd teach me how to do it later on.
As I made my way to my first class after having breakfast alone in the cafeteria -Seb always ate very early and Jeff never ate in the morning- my nose was buried in my map, hoping that the close proximity to the dumbed down version of the school layout would help me locate the room my chemistry class was being held in. It was in the East building, room 206.
The fact that everyone was dressed the same way wasn't easy on my burning, tired eyes. The blazers and shirts mixed together into a pale scarlet blur. All I knew was that the classroom was on the second floor and it was on the right of the hallway. Seb had gone through my schedule with me and gave me the abridged versions of the routes to each of my classes.
I spent first few minutes of period one pacing the second floor, glancing at the door numbers and never finding 206. On my fifth journey back, a man who I assumed was a teacher stuck his head out of a classroom door, asked me who I was and what I was doing.
"I'm new here, I can't find my class." I felt pathetic.
"Who's your teacher?"
I stuffed my hands into my blazer pockets in search of my schedule, once it was found I scanned it and found the name. "Uh... Mr.Holbrook?" I raised my eyebrows slightly, unsure of whether or not he'd know who I was speaking about, but he smiled, his broom-like mustache twitching a little.
"That's my class, in you come." He motioned me inside and I grinned a little with a relieved sigh, he wasn't mad that I was late.
He looked nice enough, he was short and stumpy, his round belly hanging over his belt from under his tucked in shirt. Wearing glasses as thick as the bottoms of Coke bottles, his eyes looked large and bulging, but he had a kind face. He reminded me of my Grandmother, wild and eccentric with fluffy brown hair sticking out from the sides of his head like a slightly younger Albert Einstein. "I'm putting together lab partners," he informed. "You didn't miss much."
The rest of the class were lined up around the outer edge of the classroom, their backs against the wall, staring at me as I joined the end of the line. Mr Holbrook began a brisk walk, pacing at the front of the classroom, as if preparing to make an important speech.
"Now," he began, "I trust all of you had a good summer break at home, had fun, drank..." he paused laughing to himself, "got laid. I don't care what you did, but this is school now, there will be no fooling around in my classes." He made a slow journey up the centre aisle between the desks, shifting his gaze from left to right as he inspected all of us, telling certain people to adjust their ties.
"I have chosen your partners for you, as last year when you chose for yourselves it didn't work out too well." He glanced at a pair of girls to my left, they blushed, clearly embarrassed. "I don't care if you don't approve of my choices, but there will be no switching of partners, so you'd better learn to get on." He walked back to the front of the class, moving behind his desk and picking up a piece of paper which I guessed had the chosen partners written on it.
As he read off the list and assigned tables, some people high-fived in celebration and others groaned and complained, sitting as far away from their partners as their desks would allow. I glanced around and was surprised at the amount of plant pots positioned sporadically throughout the room. It was a chemistry room with gas-taps and bunsen burners, but despite that, it could have easily passed off as a biology room. After all, the teacher did look like a little mole or something.
"Pierre Bouvier," I looked up. "You'll be with Charles Comeau on table seven. Mr.Comeau, could you please remove your head-phones?" At the back of the class, a guy a little shorter than myself huffed as he ripped his big, boxy head-phones from his head and shoved them into his bag. He seemed to be in a bad mood, so I was a little worried about having to spend an hour sat next to him.
He sat down behind our assigned desk, and I joined him, being careful as I sat down on my stool, I'd fell off of them many a time at my old school. He didn't look at me, he was too busy cutting an evil glare at Mr.Holbrook, I wasn't sure if he was angry due to being stuck with me, or due to having to abstain from his hip-hop -he hadn't turned off the music, I could hear it blaring from his bag beneath the table.
"You new here? I haven't seen you before," I figured he was just making small-talk, because there was an edge to his voice as he continued to stare towards the front of class, he didn't seem at all interested in my answer.
"Yeah, I am."
"Cool," he breathed, shaking his head quickly as he turned to face me, as if he was trying to expel the anger from his mind. "I'm Chuck."
"Pierre," I smiled.
"I know."
I was hoping for a practical lesson, so we could blow something up or make crazy chemical concoctions, but nothing. We made notes as Mr.Holbrook went through what we'd being doing over the course of our senior year, and a brief out-line of the basis of our final exam. He seemed tired as he spoke, he'd clearly gone through this many a time.
By the time he was done, there were still ten minutes before class was over, so we were told that we could spend that time talking amongst ourselves as there was nothing more to go through, and there was no point in beginning work from our next class.
"So, who're you rooming with?" Chuck asked, he'd perked up a little since the beginning of class, his bad mood was probably just Monday morning blues or whatever.
"Jeff Stinco, you know him?"
He nodded with a grin, "Baldy? Of course I know him, everyone does."
"What do you mean?" I thought it better to urge Chuck on, it would help me ignore the pair of girls behind us giggling away to themselves, I had no idea if I was the reason for their giggling or not.
"He's eighteen already, he got put back a year because he failed in most of his classes." I nodded, that would explain why he looked so much older to me when we first met. Though, eighteen still seemed a little young for him. I would have put my money on nineteen at the very, very least. I believed Chuck though, he clearly knew more about this place than I did, more than Seb even, which was saying something, he was clearly the observant type.
"I am friends with him though," he added, "just in case you thought I hated him or something."
"No, I didn't."
He looked down at his shoes, letting out an annoyed huff, "Sébastien, on the other hand."
I felt a little defensive over Seb already, he was young and sweet, there was nothing wrong with him to me. "You don't like him?"
"It's not that," the fingers on Chuck's right hand flexed a little on the table-top, "He's a little intense... annoying, too upbeat." Something in his brown eyes suggested he wasn't used to being around happy people. I thought maybe I could get him to like Seb, with a little work.
Before class cut out, Chuck gave me directions to the bathroom. I'd spent the night before downing bottles of water from Jeff's contraband mini-fridge -I was a little surprised to find no alcohol in there, not that I wanted any- so I needed to pee real bad. The person who designed the building was obviously a little bit stupid, deciding to situate the only bathroom on the top floor. I had to take six flights of stairs, so my bladder felt like it was being squished with each step up.
Everything in that bathroom seemed to be made of matte stainless steel, very modern. An island of sinks sat in the middle of the room, a row of cubicles ran along the left hand side, and a row of urinals ran down the other. I was pretty relieved once I had, well... relieved myself, and as I turned to leave I was startled by one of the hand-dryers starting up.
Across from me, on the opposite side of the room, a skinny little thing was messing with the hand-dryer in question, adjusting the jet so it would blow air straight up into his face, before twisting it back round the other way so it blew in the correct direction. He repeated this process over and over again, laughing quietly to himself as his tousled blonde spikes blew vertical, away from his face, then fell again.
I stood watching him for a little while, he didn't wear a blazer like everyone else, it hung limp over his messenger bag. Instead he went for the loose tied, sleeves rolled up option, exposing thin arms that flowed flawlessly into his even thinner wrists, then his dainty little hands. He looked like an over-grown child, but happy in what he was doing.
His laugh was infectious, high-pitched and sprightly, and I couldn't help but join in after a few times of hearing it. I frightened him, he stopped the hand-dryer abruptly, full of embarrassment, but still grinning. "Hey."
"Hi," I stepped towards the sinks a little.
"You want a go?" I laughed, he must've been joking.
His face fell. "I'm serious."
"Oh!" Not wanting to upset the little guy, I ran round the island -being careful not to trip over my feet on the way- and joined him next to the hand-dryer, waiting.
"You're a little taller than me, so it won't hit you as hard, bend down a bit." I did as I was told, and he started the air again. It was harsh on my face at first and made my eyes dry so I had to blink a little more frequently than I usually would. He was laughing already, I turned to look at him, this massive grin on his face. He turned the jet downwards, and his hair fell back into it's normal, messy position. "It's just like being on a roller-coaster. Watch."
He adjusted it once more and threw his arms in the air, thrashing them around, "Look! No hands!" I couldn't contain myself, I fell to the side, leaning on the sinks to keep me up whilst I laughed hysterically with him.
"You're fucking crazy!" I managed to wheeze out between giggles, my ribs were beginning to hurt.
"I know, you can pretend to sky-dive too!" He began to tug wildy on the strap of his bag, his face still in line with the air jet. He screamed, "Oh no, Johnny, my parachute's not working!"
I made a confused face, still laughing, "What? Who's Johnny?"
He grinned, out of breath, "I don't know!"
I was pretty sure that if someone where to have walked in at that exact point then they would've thought of us as escaped mental patients. I was having too much fun to care though. Soon enough, our shrill laughter was unfairly cut short by the ring of the bell. Not wanting to be late again, I reluctantly said bye to the little blonde kid and turned to leave.
"What? Are you leaving?" He seemed a little down-heartened.
I nodded with a sigh, "Yeah, class is starting, are you coming?"
"I think I'm gonna stay in here."
"Oh, alright then, I'll see you later maybe?" He smiled a little then, but it didn't reach his eyes, I nodded once more and left, on the way out I was pretty sure that he'd shouted his name, but his cry was lost in the sound of the kids outside bustling around to get to their second class.