Chapter Text
Alek was already late for his first class—so much for a good first impression.
He’d spent the last half hour in the school office collecting papers he supposedly needed for the months ahead—things for his parents to sign, a small slip with a code to his locker written on it, amongst other things. At his old school all of these things had been handled through the internet and before he even stepped foot in a classroom his binder was already thick with documents.
He had also been given a map of the school where the helpful secretary had put a star on the classes he would be attending.
Now, he was fairly certain he was standing in front of his new Biology classroom. He let out a nervous sigh and knocked. Through the small glass window in the middle of the door Alek watched as the teacher, a brunette woman in her thirties wearing a long purple vest, looked up from her computer screen at Alek, back down to something on her desk, and then beckoned for him to come in.
He crossed the room quickly, trying—and failing—to keep his eyes off of his new classmates. The desks were full of a hodgepodge of students that made Alek’s mind spin. At his old school every thing—everyone—had been nearly identical, standardized to an inch of its life. Here, every person looked like their own exhibition. Girls with low cut skirts and tight yoga pants wearing far too much makeup for this early in the morning, boys with wife beaters and jeans pulled below their hips, backwards caps emblazoned with all different sorts of team colours. Others that flashed by too quickly to take in completely.
He realize he stuck out even more than he had feared. He had agonized about what to wear the evening before, pulling out just about everything he owned. When his mother had found him surrounded by his discarded clothes she had kissed him on the forehead and told him “just to be himself.”
Alek was pretty sure it wasn’t that simple. The kids at this school were different from the types of kids who had gone to preparatory school since before they could walk. There, school hierarchy was based off of family business and how much you were worth, though by the time you got into the affluent ranges that most of his old classmates occupied the differences were basically negligible. This was completely different, and Alek could make out rather quickly that his family likely made a lot more than most of the students here. It wasn’t something he cared about but he worried if the students—or the teachers for that matter—found out he would be treated differently simply for his father’s money, so he hoped he could keep it on the down low. At least for a while.
He ended up with a pair of plain khakis, a stripped button down and some loafers. Thankfully he had the forethought to leave his blazer in the driver’s car last minute. Even so, he looked like he could be there for an interview, not just another student arriving late to class.
He stopped at the teacher’s desk while his pulse beat in his ears.
“You must be the new transfer student—Aleksander Hohenburg? I’m Dr. Barlow.”
“Yes, Ma’am, it’s nice to make your acquaintance. But Alek works just fine if you don’t mind.”
“Alek it is. How are you finding things so far?”
“Well, thank you very much. You have good maps.” He gestured at the map in his hand before folding it back into his bag.
“That’s good to hear. In any respect, however, I think I would still like to assign you a student navigator. It tends to make things easier on the new student and it looks like your new lab partner is going to be the perfect choice.” She stood to look over her computer screen at the person in the desk a few rows back and gestured for them to come over.
Alek watched as someone pushed themselves off of a lab stool and started over.
He took them in as they made their way towards him.
Most of their top half was shrouded in a very oversized aviator's jacket, rife with buttons, embroidered patches and bald spots where the leather had worn through over the years. Underneath was a t-shirt that may have been merchandise for a band Alek didn’t recognize. Ripped black skinny jeans gave way to some aggressive looking combat boots. They were quite a bit taller than Alek but he wondered how much of that was the footwear.
The person’s face was what really caught Alek’s attention, however. Fine features, beautiful even, were at odds with the metal accessorizing that framed it. Several earrings on each lobe and even a few on the top part of the ear that Alek didn’t even know was possible. Sandy blonde hair was faded almost to the skin on the sides then pointed in all directions in a fluffy, spikey mess on top. Matching blonde lashes framed striking blue eyes that seemed to call all attention to them in contrast of the shades of beige that surrounded.
Alek had never seen a person like this before.
“You beckoned, Dr. Barlow?” The person had a distinct Scottish lilt.
“I was hoping you would take Alek—who consequently will be your lab partner now that we finally have an equal number of students—under your wing, so to speak.”
The person extended their hand to Alek. He noticed their hands were speckled with remnants of dried paint and sharpie stains. “Deryn Sharp.”
“Darren?” He repeated, worried to mispronounce the boy's name due to their differing accents. He took Darren’s hand and shook, aware of how rough they were compared to his own.
Dr. Barlow spoke up. “We’re nearing the end of a project that I wouldn’t think of having you start now, and since your lab partner has already handed in what would be your copy… Deryn, why don’t you take Alek and show him around the school and answer any questions he may have?”
“Not a problem. Let me grab my sack and we’ll head out.” He grabbed a thread-bare backpack covered in even more paraphernalia from under the table he had come from and started towards the hall, Alek following behind. Once they were in the empty hallway they took up pace next to each other.
Alek gripped the strap of his satchel tightly, a tad unnerved. The whole vibe of his new escort was rather intimidating. He had to admit, though, that he didn’t hold himself in any sort of threatening way. Opposite in many ways to the boys from his old school, who all dressed like well pressed young gentlemen who with one look at the set in their jaw you knew not to cross, though they smiled and spoke just as politely as everyone else.
“So what did you do?” Darren said abruptly, pulling Alek’s attention.
Alek frowned. “Pardon?”
“To get sent here of all places in the middle of the school year. Usually when someone starts up in the middle of the semester it means their old school sent them away for whatever reason. Or maybe it's your family—your parents on the lam for some white collar crime, maybe?” His eyes glimmered mischievously over at Alek.
Alek’s face grew hot and he stopped in his tracks. “Of course not! How dare you accuse them of such a thing!”
Darren stopped a few feet ahead of him and turned back to Alek. “Oh, hey, my bad, I didn’t actually mean that. Just joking about.” His face was confused, like he really didn’t expect Alek to react in such a way and he sounded legitimately contrite.
Alek unclenched his jaw, feeling embarrassed. “Oh.”
Darren laughed somewhat pitifully. “A bit close to home I take it?”
Alek took up his stride again, taking his place next to Darren. “It happened a lot at my old school, actually. I watched a lot of families get pulled apart because of bad business.”
“Blisters, I’m sorry to hear that.” Alek studied the floor as the tiles passed under foot for a moment.
“How did you guess my family was—” He cleared his throat, suddenly awkward. “—Well-to-do.”
“Your clothes. But mostly the way you talk. Only opulent blokes are that polite to the teachers. Oh—and your handshake. None of these ninnies around here know how to shake properly.” Alek sighed. He’d outed himself just by opening his mouth. “Don’t worry about it,” added Darren. “I won’t spill the beans. Just be a bit more of a bumrag and you’ll fit in just fine.” Alek’s eyes widened up at Darren before he realized the boy was jerking him around again.
“I’ll take that into consideration.” He said with a small smile. That’s when he realized they were walking straight towards the doors to the parking lot. “Where are we headed—I’ve already seen the parking lot.”
“You heard Dr. Barlow, we’ve got 80 minutes all to ourselves. You can read a map, can’t you?” Alek nodded, the school’s outlay still tucked in his satchel. “Then you don’t need me to show you around the bloody school. I thought you’d rather get out while you still can for a while. I know I would.” He shoved his hip against the push bar of the door and held it open for Alek who stepped through into the cool morning light of late October.
“Is that allowed?”
Darren shrugged. “It’s not not allowed.”
Alek bit his lip with a frown—he’d never played hooky before—and on his first day?
“If anyone asks I’ll tell them I kidnapped you for the money, how about that?” Darren pressed. Alek was going to have to get used to the boy’s sense of humour. “Follow me.” Alek trailed behind, still unsure, to the back of the parking lot where Darren stopped in front of a beat up looking Ford truck that may have been light blue when it was first painted. “My baby—Used to be my Da’s in the 90s.” He said proudly, slapping the hood, then fished a jumble of keys from his backpack. “Hold up, gotta unlock it.”
Darren strode to the passenger side and manually unlocked the door, pulling at the handle which let out a metallic squeak. Alek stood on the opposite side, waiting for Darren to switch places with him. Instead, he caught Alek’s eyes with a smirk.
“You drive?”
“I have my licence but I don’t exactly use it…” He answered awkwardly. Darren lobbed the keys over the hood of the truck and Alek just barely caught them.
“Practice makes perfect!” The boy called before crawling into the passenger seat, leaving Alek staring through the window. Darren patted the driver's seat, shouting through the glass. “Well, hurry up! We haven’t got all day!”
Alek fumbled with the key and unlocked the mechanism with a hefty chink and heaved himself up into the truck. Alek placed his bag carefully next to Darren’s on the back seat. The inside was just as old as the outside, and somewhat cluttered. The back was piled high with discarded flannels, loose papers, several types of markers and were those… cans of spray paint?
When he pulled down the visser to block out the sun so he could adjust the rearview mirror, an old polaroid fluttered into his lap. A burly young man with mutton chops wearing an exact copy of the jacket that Darren was wearing had his arm around a pretty woman with the same sandy blonde hair as Darren.
“Your parents?” Alek asked, handing the photo to him. Darren smiled sorrowfully down at the photo.
“Aye, they were pretty cute when they met.” Alek felt he may have accidentally struck a nerve. Maybe he was a child of divorce? It’s not like that was unusual. He swallowed awkwardly as Darren tucked the photo into the glove compartment.
“It’s nice of your dad to give you this truck.” He tried.
Darren shrank down into his seat slightly, rolling the window down an inch. “Technically he left it to my brother Jaspert—you’ll see the bumrag around school I’m sure—in his Will but he didn’t want it so I just waited until I was old enough to drive it.” Darren tapped his finger against the bottom of the window jam.
Alek sat very quiet, mortified for his outburst about his own parents in face of the boy's own loss, and unsure of how to comfort this boy he had just met. Darren didn’t seem to need comforting though, because he gestured to the keys in Alek’s hand. “So, you going to get us going or what?” Alek put the key in the ignition, grateful for the change of topic.
“Does it always make that sound?” Alek asked over the engine trying loudly to turn over.
“Aye, don’t stress about it.”
When the truck finally shuttered to life Alek put it in gear and drove off the lot. His eyes darted from mirror to mirror, past the speedometer and back through the windshield. The whole truck felt like it may fall apart at the seams at the slightest imperfection in the road. Eventually, he got a feel for it, though he still unconsciously white knuckled the steering wheel. Darren directed him down streets he’d never seen before, nearing the edge of the city limits.
“So why did you transfer schools?” Darren asked when they were driving down an empty stretch of road that looked like it carried far into farmland. Alek hesitated but inevitably gave in—the boy had already guessed his biggest secret.
“Mother wanted me to get more social interaction with…” Alek searched for the right word, ‘normal people’ seemed almost derogatory, “people who weren’t solely from our walk of life. She grew up in a working class family before she met my father, who comes from generational wealth, and said she wanted me to have a better understanding of how most people live—that it would give me a better grasp of the way the world actually works.” The steering wheel was slick under Alek’s hands. “Father didn’t love that idea. He wants me to take over the family business one day and says it's important to have all the necessary connections that would come from a finishing school.”
“I guess that makes sense.” Darren remarked. Alek nodded along.
“So for my freshman year I went to the school my father chose and all it did was deepen mother’s hatred for the institution. They fought all summer about me changing schools but father stood his ground and I went back in September. Mother is nothing if not stubborn though, and she didn’t drop it, and eventually wore him down. Now here I am. Or, there I should be, I suppose, since I’m here in this truck.” He wanted to look over at Darren, to see how he was responding to his story, but was too nervous to take his eyes off the road. He was pretty sure Darren was starring at him though, and he felt as though he was being studied. He waited a long moment for the other boy to respond but instead Darren just said:
“You drive like you’re terrified to die.”
Alek blinked, immediately taken aback. All he could think to say was “And you don’t?”
Out of the corner of his eye Alek saw Darren wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Absolutely not. Pull over and I’ll show you how it’s done.” Alek signaled—though there was no one around in either direction—and came to a stop on the side of the road. He went to open the drivers door but Darren just stood on the bench seat. “Scootch.” So instead Alek shimmied his way past the gear shift and into the passengers seat as Darren plopped himself behind the wheel.
“Driving’s about feeling free. The only thing better than driving is flying.” He shifted into gear and pulled what Alek thought was likely an illegal U-turn. As the truck veered back towards the sun Alek could make out a spray of freckles across Darren’s face he hadn’t noticed before.
“Flying?”
“Aye—but not like in a passenger plane—I mean real flying like what my Da did, the smaller the craft the better. But driving can get you awfully close. Roll your window down.” He turned the window regulator and Alek followed suit.
Soon the wind was buffeting his hair and the sound of the world rushing by filled through the truck's cabin. Darren cranked the volume dial on the radio, a grin splitting his face until Alek couldn’t differentiate between the music and the sounds from outside. He was so exhilarated he just started to laugh—a loud, unrestrained sound that must have somehow cut through the noise because Darren 's eyes broke from the road momentarily to catch his, and the boy started laughing back.
“Now you’re gettin’ it!” He shouted at Alek. The laughter eventually died but it left the mark of a grin on Alek’s face as they sped down the road back towards the school. By the time they pulled back into the parking lot his ears were ringing from the sound of Darren’s music—but Alek didn’t mind.
Darren turned the car off and turned to Alek. “So?”
“Felt like flying.” Darren grinned wide and handed Alek his satchel from the backseat before they got out of the truck and headed back towards the doors. Just as they reached them the bell for second period rang out. Other teenagers started spilling out into the halls.
“What class do you have next?” Darren asked. Alek fished out his class schedule.
“Chemistry with Mr. Tesla.” He read over the sounds of the student body.
“Oof. Tesla can be a bit of a nut-job so be careful there. His classroom is upstairs,” Darren pointed at a staircase on Alek’s map. “Avoid this corridor if you can unless you want to get a good view of all the freshmen trying to lose their virginity.”
Alek’s eyes widened and he couldn’t tell if Darren was joking around again or not.
Darren looked over at a clock overhead. “Blisters, I gotta go, if I’m late for gym again Mr. Rigby will have my hide—Here,” He fished a cell phone out of a zipper pocket on his backpack and handed it to Alek. “Add your number.” Alek typed up a contact with his information and handed it back. Darren thumbed away at it and Alek’s own phone buzzed in his backpocket. “That’ll be me. If you have any questions just send me a text, okay?” Alek nodded, a little bit dumbfounded by how his day had gone so far. It had been more exciting then he could have ever imagined.
Darren heaved his backpack and took off. Alek watched the boy jog down the hall to his next class, aviator jacket disappearing into the crowd of other teenagers.
He looked down at his own phone where a message bubble flashed with an unsaved number:
Heya Bumrag, it’s me! —D