Freshman Year (On Hold)

So, from here on out it’s Luther’s dysfunctional POV.

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The class that I shared with Deryn just so happened to be second period Portfolio, an art course. It was a class that I’d only marked on my schedule because I felt I’d enjoy having a few electives to cut through the mundane day I’d be having otherwise. My parents had encouraged me to choose something ‘useful’, like government classes or computer training, something I could actually use later on in life. I had no intentions of telling them that computer classes and government courses would be of no help to an aspiring tattoo artist.

Deryn had strutted into the class ten minutes late and immediately sat in the very front, at a concrete slab of a table with paper and oil pastels strewn all over it. The teacher, a bald man with a huge gray moustache, was rumbling something about a creativity test and didn’t so much as look at me when I sneaked in rather loudly, tripping on a random chair and scuffing the floor with my clumsy feet. His double chin flapped a tiny bit every time his jaw moved, and all in all he looked like a hardass. I couldn’t believe I was going to get away with just waltzing in and interrupting him.

Several students had looked up at me when I pushed my way in, and I felt my palms begin to sweat as I slowly made my way over to the group of tables. They really just looked like huge slabs of concrete, a cold dull gray color that looked like it had been worn smooth over years of use. When I got a few feet closer, I noticed that there was graffiti all over the tops and sides of the slabs, and that there were small cubbies in the sides where small easels and other supplies were neatly stacked. The lighting was dim, and just made all of the eyes still peering at me look damn near demonic in nature.

I had no clue where to sit, I realized. Most of the kids in here were the ‘I don’t give a shit’ type, and about half of Deryn’s group happened to be huddled next to him in the front, fingering paper and muttering quietly. Deryn himself was leaned back in his blue plastic chair, an easy smile that looked almost sinister on his lips as he stared at the teacher, who was still blabbing on with a grouchy red face.

In the span of a minute, I’d made my way to the edge of the class and was close to shaking again. There was an empty seat next to an Hispanic kid in the back, where the lighting was even worse than at the front, the fluorescent bulb flickering slightly every few seconds with a snapping sound. The annoying buzz of it seemed to be ignored by everyone but me, and I quickly ruled out that seat since it was a huge distraction- not to mention the guy looked like he‘d stab me if I even tried. Instead, I looked at the available seat right in the front, next to Deryn, who was now laughing quietly and pointing his finger at his blond friend, whose face was scrunched up in humorous disgust. I looked at Deryn for a moment, and had almost made up my mind to sit in the back when his other friend (still in his Gir beanie with curly blue-black hair poking out) elbowed him and pointed at me, whispering something under his breath. Deryn chuckled at whatever it was and turned to me, his soft bangs swinging over his glimmering eyes. As if the whole world‘s a personal joke of his. I’m already scared of that look, it’s the same one he wore when he snatched my bag this morning.

With one lanky arm slung over the back of the chair and the other waving me over, he looked absolutely devilish. That smirk was back in place, tight-lipped and secretive. His eyes were half-lidded and his hair was hanging over them, and to put it bluntly, he looked like sex. I couldn’t help it- I flushed a wet pink almost immediately when I realized that this asshole with godly looks was beckoning me to him.

Deryn pulled the empty chair out and raised an eyebrow. His little group was pretty much in a silent giggle fit, and their faces were all bright red from trying to keep their laughter down as they laughed at me. My head was pounding from the blood rushing through it in my embarrassment, and by now half the class had noticed Deryn’s ploy and were watching me with wide eyes, as if they were shocked and fearful of our little game. Which assuredly did not help my nerves at all.

Finally, finally after what seemed like ages of watching them laugh at me and scraping my feet against the cold floor, I set my messenger bag down next to Deryn’s chair, and settled delicately into the stiff chair. His hand brushed against my shoulder briefly, and I looked up at him from under my bangs. He was still staring at me, a smug little grin twisting his lips. The metal hoops clacked when he said lowly, “There, not so bad, eh?”, and I shook my head slowly. The teacher gestured wildly at the tables and then let his arms flap down and wobbled over to his desk, where he picked up his papers and started ruffling through them, looking angry at everything.

Deryn made a light snorting noise under his breath, and glanced at the dull gray of the table When he turned to the paper in front of him, and the pens and pencils spread over the table like a rainbow, he got a look on his face like he was concentrating hard on what to choose. His hand hovered over a stubby red crayola crayon, but then moved to a lime green oil pastel. He picked it up between two fingers, and held it up to my face with a cute little smile.

“It matches your eyes.”

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Twenty minutes later found me huddled over a paper with Deryn and his little group, laughing our asses off as we drew random scribbles all over our humongous paper. The blond, whose name was Erik and who insisted that his hair was more orange than blond, had badgered the teacher until we’d gotten special privileges to go in the cabinets and ransack it. Along with the massive sheet of paper, Deryn had taken a small pot of green paint, some brand new oil pastels (seeing as he’d pocketed the other viridian one), and a pile of magazines, glue and scissors.

I was shoved almost out of my seat by a tall blonde girl who walked by, causing my pink oil pastel to smear across the page, and when I righted myself she sneered back at me. Deryn glared briefly at her, and my heart almost stopped when his hand lingered on my shoulder, supposedly there to help steady me from my wobbling.

After shrugging his hand off and trying to be nonchalant about the whole ordeal and how much it’d truly shaken me, I turned back to the paper only to find that each of the boys had taken out their own poster board and started slopping paint and glue on it. I really didn’t want to be left out, so I was immensely happy when Jason, the boy with a blue fauxhawk and a septum ring, slid a clean sheet of poster board over to me. I picked up a stray lump of charcoal and tossed it into the air before catching it and putting it to paper.

I was serious about art- that’s why I was in an advanced art class with sophomores and juniors. I quickly began to sketch out a huge three-quarter profile, letting the basic shapes take form as my hand flew across the paper. I didn’t stop even when I heard an intake of breath and a clattering, or a ‘whoa’ right next to my ear. Deryn, Jason and Erik hovered over my shoulders, watching in awe. I looked to Deryn’s slack jaw and was surprised by the look of concentration on his face. Ignoring it, I allowed the face to finally shape itself. The nose was narrow, slightly crooked and too big for the slim jaw line, and the brows were furrowed over the eyes that would be bright blue when I colored them in…

Jason laughed, elbowing Deryn and jostling Erik. “Hey, man, it’s you!” Erik whapped Jason in the back of the head and dragged him back over to their own… er… masterpieces.

I looked up at Deryn every now and again, and now that he’d realized I was drawing him he stood stone-still and let me stare as hard as I wanted. The small smile couldn’t be helped though- I think it was a permanent feature to his face. He laughed briefly and relaxed once I set the charcoal down.

Then, I set about forming the charcoal. I slid my fingers about the nearly finished picture, smoothed my hand down the side of the cheek, shaded the lips to make them look like his. As a finishing touch, I put in two dark hoops, wrapped snug to his lower lip, one awkwardly crooked like his sometimes got.

It was almost perfect copy, and even Deryn himself seemed a little bit impressed. He clapped me on the shoulder and ignored my red face in favour of staring at my work. “Nice,” he muttered, rubbing his thumb against my dirty hand. I think I even stopped breathing at that simple touch, but he simply turned back to his own piece- an abstract mixture of green oil paint in various shades and smears. It was beautiful in a strange way, and there seemed to be some point to the swirling mass. Instead of contemplating it, I ignored the stone in the pit of my stomach.

“It’s you,” he said, causing me to jump. Deryn turned his intense gaze to me over his shoulder, spreading a warm sort of green around the edge of a lime streak while he talked.

“In abstract form, but you regardless. You seem like a green sort of person, right?” He smiled at me, tight-lipped, and turned back to his work.

With a shudder, I backed up and headed toward the sink in the back of the room. My heart was shuddering in my chest now, and I felt like another touch or look like that from Deryn would probably set me on fire. Washing my hands was pointless- the deep gray of the charcoal had already set into my skin, and no amount of scrubbing could help with getting it off- no amount of industrial strength soap could get the trickle of water to turn anything other than a light, sudsy granite color, and my hands stayed purple and black.

With a reluctant sigh, I gave up and turned the water off, walking back to my table with a trail of water dripping behind me. A nasty grin alighted my face, and with a dark chuckle I slapped my still wet hands playfully over Deryn’s cheeks.

I was hoping he wouldn’t be mad at me for it- I just wanted to see what his face looked like without the grin.

He shouted and dropped the tin of expensive oil paint - which thankfully landed right-side up and did not spill all over his beautiful work- and glared at me. Before I knew it, there was a smear of green paint on my nose, and he was laughing. I assumed at the shell-shocked look on my now dirty face. I just smiled and turned to my seat, picking things up and watching Jason and Erik squabble over a pot of paint from the corner of my eye. I felt more at ease with these boys than I had even with Danny, and the relaxed feeling was good.

Now if I could just get the butterflies to stop whenever Deryn looked at me.

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Erik, the boy with the rainbow beanie and tight bejeweled capris, was holding hands with Jason. My heart smashed in my ribcage when I’d first seen it, Jason carrying both of their books and his own bag, Erik looking away almost angrily as Jason laced their fingers together gently, casually. It made me almost nauseous with the sweetness, Jason laughing his ass off at something Deryn said and caressing Erik’s thumb with his all the while. Eventually I turned away, not knowing what to do now that I had my bag back and Portfolio was over.

“Hey!” A loud voice knocked me out of my reverie, and I looked up to see a tall red-haired boy grinning at me. He had a black beanie with a red anarchy sign, and his bright-red hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, and one of his long arms wrapped around a shorter girl with a pleasant face.

“Who’s the runt, Deryn?” The boy never turned from me, almost leering at me. “Ain’t he that kid from this mornin’?”

Deryn, to his credit, simply pushed the boy out of his way and kept walking. The others fell into step with him, following his cocky strut with their own seemingly practiced pace.
I felt slightly out of place as Deryn introduced me to the boy, Nikolas, who was apparently Irish-Russian and had anger problems. I’d only just found out that these were mostly Juniors I was hanging out with, but Nikolas himself was a Sophomore. I had him in my English honors class but hadn’t noticed, as well as his girlfriend, a bright-eyed brunette named Amanda. Deryn was in my Portfolio with Jason and Erik, he said, as well as a few other classes.

“We’ll have this block together too,” he said, not even looking back at me. “It’s Calculus. How’d a freshie like yourself get into such high classes?” He did glance back at me for this question, and I wondered if it was rhetorical. I didn’t answer, too busy comparing the schedules he’d given me with my own. Jason leaned back and pointed with his free hand, showing me what all classes I had with whom.

“So you’ve got me n’ Erik in this next class too, and also in Physical Training with Deryn, and just me in fifth block Introductory Painting. Tomorrow you’ve got Deryn in Swim Class and Composition, Nikolas in Biochemistry, and you’re on your own in- oh wait, Erik isn’t that when you’ve got Physics too? How the hell’d you get a dumb class like that?!” They all looked at me now, ignoring Erik’s mumbled affirmative.

I flushed, clutching the schedules tightly. “They’re A.P. classes, Biochem and Physics. I need A.P. classes. Everything else is too boring and slow.”

“So what are you, a genius?” Nikolas this time, sounding self-righteous. Deryn punched his arm in warning, simultaneously pushing aside a group of Sophomores that were standing in the aisle.

“No,” I replied smoothly, looking smug. “I’m just showing my parents up- they think they know everything, they’re asses about schoolwork. My mom’s a doctor and my dad’s a lawyer.”

Jason whistled lowly, apparently impressed. “So you got a ritzy background, eh? Nice. You already thinking about college?”

I nodded. “I’m going for art, then I’m going to be a tattoo artist.”

They all smiled at that, before turning down yet another hallway. I felt my cheeks tinge pink briefly before I stopped, glancing up at a doorway. ‘Mister Bernem’, it said ominously on the placard. Deryn steered me I gently, with a hand on my shoulder.

“Just find a seat anywhere, and let’s have some fun!” said a disembodied voice. I looked around for it and saw a middle-aged man with thinning brown hair come out of a closet looking pleasantly excited, clutching a bunch of textbooks and papers and righting his thin-framed glasses with the other. His face was flushed and he walked towards the front of the class with long-legged strides, setting everything down on his cluttered desk. Deryn dragged me to the back of the class, smiling and waving at Erik and Jason to follow. I plopped in the warm seat and sighed, watching the other students file in and rush to seats before the bell rang shrilly.

“Let’s do some calculus!” Mr. Bernem exclaimed, already beginning to write numbers out on the board with white chalk. It squeaked, as did his voice in his excitement. Deryn and I laughed briefly at this, and I began taking notes in green gel pen. I could feel eyes burning into me, but I stared steadily at my paper and the board, ignoring the attractive boy sitting next to me. I tried to keep up with everything the man said, and eventually found myself on a third sheet, my hand exhausted. Erik and Jason had long given up and were sneaking touches and glimpses of each other, and most of the students had fallen asleep. The entire front row was empty, and I was tempted to move up there to escape Deryn’s heated stare.

The bell for lunch startled the teacher and me both, and he dropped the chalk. Turning back to the class, he dismissed us with a wide smile and a plea for us to ‘be ready to do the pre-test on this material Wednesday!’, and the whole class groaned. I was now glad I had taken notes, although now a new problem arose in my gut-

Where in the world was I going to sit for lunch?

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Chapter two already! I’ll be updating once or twice every weekend, with longer chapters, depending on my schedule. Reviews fuel me to write and update faster- I have over one hundred hits already and only a single review!
Kristina, thank you for reviewing. Here’s your update. ;]