Chapter Six

A/N: ^that's Evan :)

~

Andrew stared in horror at the velvet notice board in the cafeteria. A large poster of the upcoming midterm inter-house sports tournament was pinned proudly upon it. His gaze zeroed in on the words "Participation of ALL Students is Mandatory," and his heart went as cold as the scrambled eggs on his tray.

Evan skipped up gaily behind him and flung an arm across his shoulders. 'Excited for the meet?'

Excited was one word for it.

'I'm not much good at sports,' Andrew answered, thinking to himself that this must be the understatement of the century.

'That's alright, it's just for fun,' Evan grinned, 'I'm still quite subpar at them; even being the house captain.'

'What are the houses?'

'Oh! I'll speak to the games captain and get you put in one, sorry about that,' Evan smacked his forehead for his forgetfulness. Being the student rep meant that he was in charge of all the new students' transition to the college.

'Anyway, it's named after mythical creatures. The green house is Dragons, yellow is Cheetahs, blue is Krakens, and purple is Unicorns; that's my house,' he stated proudly.

'I'm a chee-tahh,' Marie sang, suddenly appearing beside them, 'You should join my house!'

Andrew turned to see her with her arms linked with that of a shorter person, they sported a natural forest green bob that matched the piping on their uniform and a garnet nose ring sparkled against their dark skin.

'I'm Ciara, Marie's friend,' they introduced themself, 'We haven't had a chance to meet yet, but I've heard a lot about you.'

Andrew slightly flushed when Marie didn't deny it. 'Which house are you in?' he asked instead.

'Kraken.' Ciara grinned, showing a row of dainty teeth that looked too small for their wide mouth. 'We're the reigning champions.'

'Krakens suck!' Marie said quickly, 'Cheetahs would've won if I were allowed to participate in all the gender and age groups.'

'But that's chee-ting,' Evan pointed out, grinning like that was a pun he used too often.

'Oh, pipe down!' She flung out her arms to either side to revel in the glory of her own awesomeness. 'I'm just the bestest at sports!'

'If only you could run in my place,' Andrew joked.

Marie seemed to think this over with some seriousness, stroking her chin impishly with her thumb and forefinger. 'You can cut your hair shorter like mine, and run with your eyes closed to hide the fact that they aren't blue.'

'What? Wait, wouldn't you have to look like me, and not the other way around?' Andrew asked, feeling like it was a dumb question anyway because they looked nothing alike, down to their very bone structure and coloration.

'Oh, right,' Marie said rather disappointedly, as if she'd actually for a moment believed that it would work, 'Never mind then.'

Evan glanced out the window at the distant suns that nearly eclipsed. 'I'm gonna go drag Jesse out of bed. He was still sleeping when I left and classes are starting soon.'

He waved goodbye and the others quickly finished up their breakfast before the bell rang.

~~~

'Ergh.'

A plop of green paint landed on Andrew's nose, dripping from the brush he was amateurishly waving above his head. He pulled away from the large canvas where he was unsuccessfully trying to paint a scenic view of the forest foliage at the base of the mountainside. He looked more like a foliage himself, with paint splattered more on his own body than the designated canvas area. He was glad to be mostly protected by the large apron he wore; all the students had one on with various levels of staining.

He glanced over at James who was expertly capturing the reflection of light shining off the snowy tips of a crystal mountain; a dreamscape of the fantasy fae lands beyond the peaks and rosy fog. The clouds swirled on the ground from where tall spires rose, decorative stairways winding round them precariously. The skies shifted and rippled like waves, its two moons glowing; one bright and golden, the other casting its rosy hue.

Marie was glaring at him as she stabbed at her own canvas rather unceremoniously. She was rebelliously attempting a portrait rather than the scenery they were supposed to be practicing this week. She held her brush roughly in a tight fist, and drew her lines so sharply that the poor fiber on the brush tip was frayed beyond hope. Andrew peered over at the abstract blocks which didn't really look like a human to him. It had a big potato head, and dangly limbs where she had forgotten to draw in the elbows and knees.

The art teacher, Mr. Branson, was making the rounds; commenting and advising on all his students' artworks. He taught literature as well, which was their next subject for the day after break. He was rather loud and opinionated but good-natured nevertheless. He always strode into the class each morning, flinging the door open widely and almost off his hinges, as he loudly shouts 'ALLLLLLLL stand UP!'

'AH! Marvelous lad!' he said as he clapped James on the back and stood beaming in front of his dreamscape. 'The light! The COLOUR! I would expect nothing less mister!'

Marie rolled her eyes at the praise, catching Mr. Branson's attention as he spun to face her ferociously.

'And what is this supposed to be? Your assignment was to paint a scenic view, NOT a... a TERRIBLE representation of, what is this? A person?'

'It's Andrew!' she exclaimed.

What??!

Andrew stared back at the painting, aghast. The two different sizes eyes stared back at him with a lopsided smile.

'It's a perfect likeness, see,' she went on proudly, 'He is wearing a blue shirt.'

Andrew peered at the blue, no, greenish blue, blob, starting from right under the paintings neck-less chin. She had tried to dab on the likeness of the green paint splatters on his apron, but it had all congealed to an unnatural teal colour.

'But a... A PORTRAIT,' Mr. Branson spluttered out in rage, 'IF YOU CAN EVEN CALL IT THAT!'

'No sir! Andrew is like beautiful scenery to look at!'

Andrew wished the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

James snickered and soon the entire class joined in, laughing uproariously as their teacher yelled for silence and handed out Marie's detention. She carelessly shoved it into her bag with the widest grin and winked sideways at Andrew, who still wished that he could die.

When breaktime came they stayed back in the class to clean up a bit before moving to their usual classroom for the next lesson. Some kids at the back of the class were tossing around an empty art supplies bucket and wearing it as a helmet. Marie tore off her now dry painting and handed it to Andrew with a flourish.

'What an honour,' he smiled, the widely smiling potato head was now starting to grow on him. He touched his own nose to the rather unfairly large nose on the picture to share their green paint blob.

Marie beamed in pride, 'I knew you'd like it.'

Still smiling, Andrew glanced over at James who was watching them indifferently. 'I like your painting,' he said, attempting to start a conversation, 'Mine's just a close up of a leaf I think.'

'It's a perfect portrayal of the Abstract Expressionist movement of the 1950s,' James replied generously, 'It actively shuns realism, and revels in the embrace of the subjective.'

'Uuhm, well it wasn't meant to be abstract express-er-whatever-thing,'

James burst into laughter, unable to hold it anymore. The sound tinkled like fae bells and fell on red-tipped ears.

'I'll give you some pointers tonight,' he promised.

Andrew hoped this meant that James was starting to warm up to him. He had seemed still indifferent, but much less hostile, during the weeks that followed Andrew's eventful first days at the college.

~

The next period, the students filed into their literature class, still in disorderliness from their earlier activities. A spiky-haired boy was still jumping around with the art bucket on his head, and he and his friends were trying to balance it on the top of the door hinge.

'It's going to fall on his head like a helmet when Mr. Branson flings open the door and barges in here!' he was shouting gleefully.

'Oh don't worry, he'll probably find it funny,' Marie assured a shocked Andrew, 'He has a sense of humour you know; he's a groovy dude.'

It was a word Andrew had never heard said before, but within the context he assumed it meant chilled out. Andrew felt that their teacher wouldn't be quite so "groovy" about it if the bucket actually fell on his head.

Marie confidently waved away his misgivings, draping an arm over the back of his chair. 'You shouldn't worry so much, Andrew, dear,' she said. The nickname sounded a little out of place, coming from her.

There was a sound of footsteps walking down the hall, and the students setting up the prank rushed to their seats in anticipation.

The door started to open... slowly. It inched its way open as if too heavy to push- and who stood there but the authoritative figure of the famously terrifying headmistress. The spiky-haired boy went purple in the face as she glared down at the room from her mediocre height of five feet and two inches. Her greying hair was tightly pulled back into neat bun at the base of her thin long neck. She wore a somber coloured pantsuit with sensible shoes, and spectacles stood perched on her long nose. She peered through them now, her gaze icily settling on each student before moving on to the next.

'What was all that shouting about?' she demanded angrily. The empty bucket still teetered on top of the door hinge; it having been opened too gently to fall.

'I was just walking to my office when I heard this DEAFENING NOISE, coming out of YOUR classroom. WHERE IS YOUR TEACHER?'

No one offered a reply. The students all stared up with bated breath. The bucket still held its balance, swaying slightly in the gentle breeze from the large windows; taunting all who looked upon it.

'It has been OVER THREE MINUTES since your lesson started,' she looked as if she was about to burst. The bucket merrily danced above her, bringing tears to the culprit's eyes as he pleaded with the Goddess of Mercy to not let it fall.

Just then, Mr. Branson walked in like a savior. The knight who would save them from certain doom. His scarf breezed behind him like a hero's cape as he assured the headmistress that he could take it from here. She spent another painful thirty-five seconds lecturing on how they should have begun their lesson preparation, with or without their teacher being present, before she finally left, deciding that she had instilled enough fear in their hearts for one day.

As the door closed behind her, the bucket fell at last. The teacher caught it deftly in surprise. 'What's all this then?' he asked, mostly to himself, before he tossed it aside and began his lesson.

The class gave a collected sigh of relief as the fear dissipated. The culprit clutched his chest with repentant thoughts- which would probably last for less than a week.

~

A/N: lol this is my favourite chapter cause this whole bucket thing actually happened back in middle school. It was horrifying and we were all just staring at it with fear in our hearts...

Vote for my favourite chapter!!