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nothingtoregretRating: G
Word Count: 526
Summary: 12-year-old Alex's first day at the Academy, and his thoughts on some of his fellow students.
Alex knew he should be paying attention. Little details were usually scattered throughout such interminable monologues at home, ones that careful notice of could prevent pain further down the line. But so far this speech had been about how prestigious this department was, how lucky they were for being selected—interesting they didn’t use the more accurate ‘surviving’—and how the faculty hoped that they would study hard and become a credit to the Academy.
Boring.
Sitting rigidly in his seat, back straight, hands on legs, he took the opportunity to observe his classmates instead. Paying attention to them could equally avoid pain, one way or another; if they were here they were his equals. Possibly even—but unlikely—his betters. He allowed his gaze to pan across the backs of the heads in front of him, taking in the different heights, hair colours, committing all the details to memory for later reference, then rolled his head on his neck to work out the kinks with two sharp cracks and used it as an opportunity to look at the kids either side of him.
To his right a girl with long, slightly curled brown hair, her eyes fixed ahead and glazed over. If she didn’t have the sense to take this opportunity to check out her surroundings she was no threat to him.
The seat to his immediate left was empty. An interesting misjudgement in numbers? More likely a drop-out, possibly terminal; some of the others further along the rows were sporting bandages, bindings or broad, taped-on dressings. Injury was apparently no immediate impediment. Still, one less to concern himself with.
The occupant of the seat beyond was male: cropped blond hair, eyes locked on the stage with no trace of the vacancy so evident in the girl; he wore a smug, self-satisfied smirk, almost a mirror of his own.
Alex hated him on sight.
As if on cue the boy turned to look at him, tipping him a broad blue-eyed wink with an even broader grin. Alex looked away, schooling his expression into careful boredom; in his peripheral vision he saw the grin descend into a scowl and the head turn to face forward again.
He’d just made an enemy there. No matter. As he refocused his attention on the podium the suited man finally finished his speech, exhorting them in his closing words to pay attention to their tutors and apply themselves to all aspects of their studies. Like they hadn’t survived this long without doing just that. He glanced at the girl again, who was only just shaking herself from her fugue, and corrected himself: perhaps blind luck played a part in it as well.
The screech of chairs over polished wood filled the hall as, as one, the assembled children rose and began to filter from the hall in orderly lines. Alex followed the ramrod-straight back of the blond boy at a careful distance and made a mental note to find out more about him: he was the first one he’d seen since his arrival that may yet be a genuine challenge.
Perhaps the next few years might prove interesting after all.
Word Count: 526
Summary: 12-year-old Alex's first day at the Academy, and his thoughts on some of his fellow students.
Alex knew he should be paying attention. Little details were usually scattered throughout such interminable monologues at home, ones that careful notice of could prevent pain further down the line. But so far this speech had been about how prestigious this department was, how lucky they were for being selected—interesting they didn’t use the more accurate ‘surviving’—and how the faculty hoped that they would study hard and become a credit to the Academy.
Boring.
Sitting rigidly in his seat, back straight, hands on legs, he took the opportunity to observe his classmates instead. Paying attention to them could equally avoid pain, one way or another; if they were here they were his equals. Possibly even—but unlikely—his betters. He allowed his gaze to pan across the backs of the heads in front of him, taking in the different heights, hair colours, committing all the details to memory for later reference, then rolled his head on his neck to work out the kinks with two sharp cracks and used it as an opportunity to look at the kids either side of him.
To his right a girl with long, slightly curled brown hair, her eyes fixed ahead and glazed over. If she didn’t have the sense to take this opportunity to check out her surroundings she was no threat to him.
The seat to his immediate left was empty. An interesting misjudgement in numbers? More likely a drop-out, possibly terminal; some of the others further along the rows were sporting bandages, bindings or broad, taped-on dressings. Injury was apparently no immediate impediment. Still, one less to concern himself with.
The occupant of the seat beyond was male: cropped blond hair, eyes locked on the stage with no trace of the vacancy so evident in the girl; he wore a smug, self-satisfied smirk, almost a mirror of his own.
Alex hated him on sight.
As if on cue the boy turned to look at him, tipping him a broad blue-eyed wink with an even broader grin. Alex looked away, schooling his expression into careful boredom; in his peripheral vision he saw the grin descend into a scowl and the head turn to face forward again.
He’d just made an enemy there. No matter. As he refocused his attention on the podium the suited man finally finished his speech, exhorting them in his closing words to pay attention to their tutors and apply themselves to all aspects of their studies. Like they hadn’t survived this long without doing just that. He glanced at the girl again, who was only just shaking herself from her fugue, and corrected himself: perhaps blind luck played a part in it as well.
The screech of chairs over polished wood filled the hall as, as one, the assembled children rose and began to filter from the hall in orderly lines. Alex followed the ramrod-straight back of the blond boy at a careful distance and made a mental note to find out more about him: he was the first one he’d seen since his arrival that may yet be a genuine challenge.
Perhaps the next few years might prove interesting after all.
