A/N: soooo... this is my first story, so please be gentle :)... reviews are ever so welcome. This is not meant to be a masterpiece, criticize it for what it is: an exercise to practice writing, a learning experience. I also have no idea where I'm going with it, so no idea about the frequency of the updates...whenever.
Hmm... ah, yes. Lucas, Allen, Mr. Richardson, the school, the books, all persons and setting belong to me ... title comes from the song with the same name by Lostprophets.
That being said, go ahead :)
Chapter 1: He meets him
"Come on in, Mr. Greene", Mr. Richardson said from his chair. He sighed at the sight of the teenager currently standing in front of him. At almost 1,90 m, he towered over the principal's desk, which only made the man more impatient.
"Sit down, Lucas, as you're well aware, I think, this might take a while to solve, do you not agree?"
Lucas snickered and plopped down in a chair, picking a pencil from the desk and twirling it between his fingers, all the while schooling his face to assume a bored expression.
"Whatever, just tell me what my punishment is this time and I'll be out of your hair before you so much as sneeze.", he glowered at his school's principal.
Mr Richardson took his glasses off, rubbing the bridge on his nose with his fingers. He really had no idea what to do about him anymore. He had tried everything: detentions, suspensions, essays, court cleaning, threats, each more inventive than the other. The truth was, he loved all his students and did not like to give sentences, but things would start slipping out of control if he didn't do something, and soon. Contrary to what his students believed, Mr. Richardson did remember his years as a high school student and understood and took care of them as few principals did. He slipped the glass back on his nose and looked at the boy:
"You tell me, Lucas. You tell me what you think would be a fitting punishment for what you did this time. I had hoped that you would finally grow up, but here you are, in your last year here and what do you do? Get caught drinking on school property". He smiled mischievously.
"Now that I think about it, it amazes me, that you would actually get caught." The principal raised an eyebrow. "Some would think you did it on purpose".
Lucas scowled. "What am I, an idiot? Why would I want to get expelled?"
"Oh, but you won't. I won't go as far as that. I'm still waiting to hear your proposal. Meanwhile, there's still another thing that needs discussing, don't you think?". He looked pointedly at the teenager.
Lucas groaned inwardly, remembering the discussion he had had earlier that day with his coach.
' "Greene, you come to your senses and get that stick out of your ass! I don't need an idiot as team captain! You know the rules: your grades drop, you get dropped Either you put that dirty mind of your to constructively work on your studying, or you'll be cleaning the bench with your ass for the whole season!", coach Brown yelled, the volume of his voice increasing with each word. " You think good of what that'll mean! No playing means no scouts get to see you, which means no fucking college for you, moron!" '
Yeah, coach Brown was as rowdy as they come.
Snapping out of his bad memories, he looked at the principal.
"I'll study for the upcoming exams", he muttered. He couldn't think of anything more horrible than not being able to play basketball. It kept his mind busy from other stuff, and also kept him away from home.
"Oh, I know you will. You see, Lucas, you're the team captain. The basketball team has the best chances of winning this year, you're all really good. But they won't be able to do it. So I've assigned you a tutor", Mr. Richardson was silently grinning. If he knew the boy as well as he thought, this could very well qualify as a punishment for his misdeed.
Lucas was horrified. He hated, HATED, being told what to do, especially from a nerdy, mousy guy/girl, whatever. If he succeeded in anything, it had to be his merit, and his alone. He didn't do help, he trusted no one but himself.
"I'll study alone", he snapped. "Don't need someone explaining me the difference between a pencil and a pen".
"You'll do as I say, or your ass is off the team.", Mr Richardson said, voice full of authority for the first time during this conversation.
Oh, shit. When the principal used this voice, there was no place for bargaining anymore. The pencil he was holding snapped as he tried to come to terms with the fact that he'd be stuck with a geek for the rest of this semester. Lucas growled.
"So, who is it?"
"Ohh, I'm going to be late, and I still have library duty today!" Allen mentally berated himself. He had no one to blame but himself, he had forgotten the time while reading under his favorite tree. He was excused from PE, anything that qualified physical effort or required movement coordination was beyond his capabilities. Coach Brown had called him to class in the beginning, refusing to listen to Allen. Needless to say, after 4 classes that ended all with a visit to the infirmary for either a twisted ankle, a scrapped knee or flat out fainting, he had quit and given Allen the hour free to do as he pleased, as long as he was relatively safe from breaking his neck. Which suited Allen just fine: today he managed to advance 50 pages into "The Count of Monte Cristo". The day couldn't get any better.
He mostly stumbled through the door, coming perilously close to falling on his face. Luckily, he managed to stay on his feet, but the load of books he was carrying fell all over the floor. Allen gasped and started picking them up, speaking at the same time:
"I am so sorry for being late, I was reading and got sucked in the book and forgot the time". He looked apologetically at the guy standing in the front desk, books in a precarious equilibrium in his arms, and noticed the amused smile his future "pupil", let us say, was sporting.
Allen gave a cheerful, if a little embarrassed, laugh, and set the books on a desk, to avoid dropping them again.
" I assure you, despite my clumsiness, I'm actually good at tutoring. So, what are the subjects giving you trouble?", he asked earnestly, looking frantically for a pen and paper through his bag.