Untold Futures part 1
Thomas sat in the middle of the math classroom. A crisp blue shirt, neatly brushed brown hair, pencil and planner sitting on the wooden desk in front of him, eyes focused on the teacher standing at the whiteboard, ears ignoring the whispering across the room. On the board was a list of materials required for the class, and he started writing them in his planner. Every aspect of Thomas’s essence screamed dedicated student. It was only first period of the first day of school but everyone in the room knew he was going to be the one spending weekends studying, and that this was probably his only non-honors class. And they were right. The only thing on Thomas’s mind since his freshman year was getting “A”s, and he had no problem with that. It was just the kind of person he was. With no girlfriends or sports or siblings there was nothing to distract him from school.
“For this class you will be expected to have a notebook or looseleaf paper to complete all of your-” the teacher stopped talking when the wooden door to the classroom swung open abruptly and a student walked in, interrupting his sentence.
“Sorry I'm late mate, I slept in.” The student said with an accent as he entered the room. Thomas didn't bother to even look up from his planner, he knew the type of student. He couldn't understand how some people just didn't care about school. He knew not everyone was going to be as dedicated as he, but to not care if you got a good job or a job at McDonalds befuddled him.
“You can call me Mr. Janson, and I hope this is the only time you interrupt my class by sleeping in. Take a seat.” The teacher replied and he gestured to the closest desk, right behind Thomas. Great he thought now I have to put up with this guy behind me. The student slung his backpack off his shoulder and slumped into the chair behind Thomas.
Mr. Janson continued class and Thomas felt a light tap on his shoulder. He ignored it, but then the person started whispering something to him. Not wanting to call attention from the instructor, Thomas quietly turned in his chair and whispered “what?” A little too accusingly than was necessary.
“Can I borrow a pencil?” The student who came in late asked and he pulled out his phone.
“Yeah, sure.” Thomas dug around in his bag and produced a pencil. This was the first good look he got at the boy. He was blond and his longish hair was done to look purposefully messy. He wore a leather jacket as black as the night sky. His fair white skin popped against the dark color. Well at least he’s pretty, he's got that going for him.
“Thanks mate!” The teen took the pencil and smiled. It was then that Thomas realized what his accent was, British. The rest of class went smoothly with no further interruptions from the blond, who spent the majority of it on his phone. When the bell rang Thomas turned to the boy expectantly.
“Um, can I help you?” The Brit inquired with a confused look on his boyish face.
“Ah, you have my pencil.” Thomas answered, pointing to the writing utensil in the other boy's hand.
“Oh, sorry mate. Name’s Newt.” The boy smiled holding the pencil out. Thomas took it and put it in his backpack.
“Why do you keep calling me ‘mate’?” He put his arms through his backpack straps and started walking to the door. Thomas knew he was being rude and he did nothing to hide it. There was no way this stereotypical slacker was going to befriend him.
“Sorry, it's just something I sort of do.” Newt stood and slung his backpack onto one shoulder. He was extremely tall and skinny, and he wore dark skinny jeans adding to the effect. Thomas wasn't sure what to think, here Newt was being polite, but he still gave off a heavy ‘I don't care’ vibe. Having wasted enough of his precious time between periods, Thomas ran off to find his second class. He had no trouble doing so, as well as with the rest of his classes.
Finally lunch time rolled around and Thomas headed for the court yard where he always ate. Upon arrival he spotted his best friend sitting on a bench. Thomas plopped down next to him and sighed.
“Hey Min! What's up?” The brunette greeted as he dove into his lunch.
“Yo Thomas!” Minho, the strong Asian with hair that not even the fall wind would dare mess up. King of sass, and the high school's top cross country stair. Despite having the stereotypical strict Asian parents, Minho wasn't in many honors classes and could never pull a 4.0 gpa. Thomas and Minho didn't seem like the most obvious of friends, but Minho was one of the first friends Thomas made in his freshman year.
Not long after reuniting Thomas and Minho had to go their separate ways to their next class. Thomas made it through the long boring first day in one peace. After the last bell he went in search of his assigned locker. It didn't take him very long to find it, and soon Thomas was bent over his backpack transferring textbooks into the locker. When he closed the door and returned the lock to its place he noticed Newt standing in front of a locker not too far down the hall. His mind went back to his first impression of the boy and he sighed in agony. Not only does he sit behind me in class but now his locker is by mine? Normally Thomas would think nothing of people like this and wouldn't care about seeing them around the school, it's not like they were specially bothering him. They were however a pain to have in class. Thomas knew he would regret not taking an honors math, but truth be told he knew he wouldn't do well in it. So he had elected getting an A was worth putting up with people like Newt. Despite all of this there was something different about the tall boy and Thomas couldn't put his finger on. He turned and started walking down the hallway but all too soon Newt realized his presence.
“Hey mate!” Thomas turned and suppressed a sigh as he smiled fakely at the boy.
“Sorry dude but-”
“It's Newt.”
“Right. Sorry Newt but I've got to go.” Thomas had nowhere to be, but he wasn't about to let this guy know that. The last thing Thomas needed was a ‘bad influence’ to throw off his 4.0.
“Alright, cheers mate!” Gosh what is it with this guy?
“Would you stop calling me mate?” Thomas did sigh this time as he studied the taller boy’s face.
“Well, I bloody could if you would tell me your name.” He stated with a blank expression.
“Thomas. And isn't bloody a swear word or something in Britain?” He inquired, only half interested as he started walking down the hall. Newt, trailing behind him.
“Um, something like that.” Finally reaching the door to the parking lot Thomas left the strange boy to wallow in his own culture.