Chapter Text
First days weren’t fun for anyone, Carlos reminded himself. It was basic science; a subject placed into a new environment with alternate stimuli was likely to have their flight or fight instincts triggered. Then again, in every study he had looked up last night had been about lab mice placed in new mazes; none had been about teenage boys on the first day of sophomore year. At a new school. In a new town. He wiped his sweaty palms on his new shorts. At least his cousins had taken him to the mall before he moved halfway across the country. He thought he was decently dressed, at least until the office secretary introduced his student guide.
“Marcus Vansten,” the guide said, rings on his hand glittering as he shook Carlos’ hand. “I’m a junior, I’ll be showing you around today. Nice shoes.”
Carlos looked down, trying to figure out if he was being sarcastic. The shoes were new, but they clearly weren't even close in quality as compared to the Italian leather ones Marcus was wearing.
“Um, thanks?” Carlos squeaked, cursing internally. “My name’s Carlos.”
“Nice to meet you, Carlos. Need anything else from me, Diane?” Marcus asked the office secretary.
“For the last time, it’s Mrs. Creighton. And you still have detention after school.”
“Mmyeah, Diane. I was thinking about that, how about I pay a fine instead?” Mrs. Creighton glared. Marcus motioned for Carlos to follow him. Carlos did, nearly tripping in the process. They turned down the hall to find Carlos’ locker. Carlos was glad to see that not everyone was dressed in silk dress shirts and expensive skinny jeans. Most, in fact, looked like fairly normal high schoolers. Or, not normal, but statistically average, scientifically speaking. Carlos made a note to remove normal from his mental dictionary. A scientist always challenges what is considered normal. Well, maybe not always. High school seemed like a good place to be statistically average, at least.
“Alright, Carlos buddy, you lucked out. Your locker is right by your first class, which is AP US History with Daniels. Any questions?” Marcus leaned against the locker by Carlos, checking his phone and looking thoroughly uninterested in whatever Carlos had to say. Carlos thought for a second. Technically, he didn't have any questions. He was surprised that the school had sent a guide at all, he was, after all, a sophomore in high school. But on the other hand, asking questions was scientifically proven to get people to talk to you. In most field studies he had made, anyway.
“Um, what material are you earrings made out of? I noticed that they’re especially luminescent right now, and considering the complete lack of reflective light due to the poor quality of the fluorescent overhead lights paired with the scratched tile floor, I was just curious- as to…” Carlos cut himself off. Marcus was staring at him, eyes narrowed and mouth slightly opened, eyebrows furrowed. Carlos smacked himself internally. Science rambling was so not a good way to get this guy to talk to him.
“Wow, you sound really friggin’ smart,” Marcus said. “They’re bloodstone diamond. Kudos to you for noticing, makes it worth the four grand for them.”
“I don’t think I’m familiar with that specific mineral compou- wait, did you say you spent four thousand dollars on those?” Carlos’ jaw dropped.
“Yeeup. I gotta go, got an appointment to see to. I’ll wait for you outside after class, Carlos. Ciao!” Marcus pushed himself up off of the lockers, and walked away, leaving Carlos alone in the hallway.
After a moment of confusion and mental processing of external stimuli, Carlos realized that Marcus seemed appreciative of his science rambling. That was a rarity. He shook himself off and ran into class as the first bell rang.
The first three classes of Carlos’ day were pretty standard when he compared them to personal data collected from other first days. Syllabi, teachers explaining classroom policies on backpacks and food, introducing themselves with one fun thing they had done that summer. When Carlos said he had spent his summer teaching experiments at youth science camps, there were at least a few giggles. That too, aligned with his previous data.
He couldn’t help it. Life made more sense in terms of science experiments, Carlos thought as he and Marcus walked to the fourth floor English Literature class. Especially when unpredictable factors, such as his mother’s affair, parent’s divorce, and his cross country move were involved. Science involved controls. And it gave him some control to be an observer.
“Alright, Carlos, after this you have lunch,” Marcus told him, head still buried in his phone. “I’ve got my marketing class on the first floor, so I’ll just meet you in the lunchroom. That okay?”
“Yeah! I’ll be on the lookout for you. Thanks again, Marcus.”
“It’s no problem, this is getting me out of, like, 6 detentions.” Marcus looked up, and clapped him on the back. “Good luck with this one.”
The classroom was set up with all the desks in a circle, presumably for Socratic seminars. Carlos picked a spot in the front right corner, parallel to the teacher’s desk. Scientifically speaking, it was the spot least likely to have her call on him for his opinion. As the class filled in, Carlos realized that this set-up made it so he could see all of his classmates, and conversely, all of them could see him. He wiped his palms on his shorts again, cursing his hypersensitive eccrine glands. He was fine. He was just going to get his notebook out and doodle, and keep his head down so that no one could make eye contact with him.
Carlos spent the first half of class in this way, head down, doodling the chemical compounds of his favorite foods, and only partially listening to the teacher reading off the syllabus he had scanned in the first five minutes. That is, until the door opened, and promptly slammed. Carlos looked up, while his classmates either avoided eye contact or began whispering to each other.
The boy strolling into class was on the taller side of average, and had an air of bravado to him that entranced Carlos. As the stranger sauntered over to their irritated teacher, Carlos was mesmerized by the boy’s apparent total disregard for dress codes, gender roles, and tasteful amounts of glitter. His long legs were encased in what appeared to be sparkly black above-the-knee stockings, held up by actual garters that disappeared under an entirely too-short pair of denim shorts. His shirt was plunging v-neck, with shoulder pads made out of sequins, accentuating the boy’s slim neck. His face was in a coy smile, eyes rimmed with semi-washed off eyeliner and a heart drawn on his left cheekbone. The boy’s hair was shorn close on the sides, but top-heavy and bubblegum pink on top. His lips looked like they could have lipgloss on them, or maybe the boy had been licking them. Carlos tried not to think about that possibility, choosing to cross his legs and avert his eyes instead.
“Sorry Miss, I got caught in traffic.” a deep voice called out. Carlos’ head snapped back up, refusing to believe that the voice came from the boy. His new classmates’ whispering intensified. The teacher frowned, taking the boy’s late pass from his perfectly manicured hand.
“Don’t let it happen again, Cecil.” she said, indicating a seat roughly across from Carlos. She continued her lecture, and Cecil sat down. Their classmates continued to whisper, but more discreetly now.
Carlos tried not to stare, he honestly did. In most societies, staring was seen as aggressive or a sign of disapproval, he reminded himself. However, a small voice in the back of his mind said, he wasn't a sociologist. He was a scientist. And Cecil wasn't even paying attention to him. Carlos watched him take out his phone. And take a few selfies. And doodle a bit on the class syllabus. He couldn't stop, Cecil wasn't like anything he had ever seen in real life. Maybe once in a music video, but he was literally 20 ft away from a guy wearing stockings and garters. In public. To school. Cecil sighed, and took a sucker out of his trapper. Carlos watched him deftly unwrap the red treat, and lick at it tenatively. Cecil popped the sucker in his mouth, looked straight at Carlos, and smirked.
Carlos felt his cheeks get red as he sharply looked down at his notebook. He did not just get caught staring at another guy the first day of school here. Furthermore, he did not just get smirked at by a guy with a sucker dangling out of his mouth. And there was no possibility that this might have given him half a boner. Luckily for him, the bell rang at that exact moment, and everyone booked it out of class into lunch.
Lunchrooms maintained a certain degree of familiarity,event with external factors weighing in on the experiment, noted Carlos. There was the mediocre, but filling food. There was the mob of people at the front of the burger line, and the hall monitors doing a poor job of catching people cutting in front of others. There was even a clean divide of social strata once he was in the lunchroom, but to his surprise, Marcus wasn't sitting in the top ranked spots. Instead, he was in a back corner table, looking over what appeared to be spreadsheets and on his cell phone, yet again.
“Jake, for the last time. I want you to hold onto that stock. I've got good word that they’re going to drop something new next week,” Marcus yelled into his cell as Carlos approached. “Listen, I've got my lunch appointment here. I’ll talk to you later, you magnificent bastard. Au revoir.”
“You own stock?” Carlos asked, pushing spreadsheets away from his tray.
“I own everything. How was class?” Marcus asked, chowing down into a veggie burger.
“Boring. We’re going to read ‘Death Comes to the Archbishop’ starting next week. Actually, something funny happened,” Carlos swallowed a bite of garlic bread. “Some guy came in super late, and he practically stopped class.”
“Mm, cool.” Marcus was texting again.
“Like, the class pretty much stopped.” Carlos repeated, trying to get Marcus to pay attention. “Everyone seemed to be freaking out about him coming in late, but he didn't really seem like the type A student, ya know?”
Marcus nodded along, now drinking chocolate milk and checking stocks online.
“His name was Cecil. Cecil… Cecil something. Didn't catch a last name.”
Marcus choked on his chocolate milk.
“Cecil Palmer?” he said, sputtering.
“I just said, I didn't catch a last name.” Carlos stated, moving his tray out of Marcus’ spray zone.
“That had to be Cecil,” Marcus said, staring down at his half-eaten lunch. “No one else is named Cecil.”
“What’s so wrong with Cecil?” Carlos asked.
“Nothing!” Marcus snapped. He softened up. “I mean, I personally wouldn’t try to chat him up. He doesn’t run with your crowd, bro.”
“How do you know what kind of crowd I run with?” Carlos asked defensively.
“Listen, punk. Just avoid Cecil, alright? He’s not good news, I promise.” Marcus began to reorganize his spreadsheets.
“Why?” Carlos prodded. Marcus sighed deeply, and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“It’s not my place to say,” he sighed. “But trust me on this. I know Cecil, and I like you, Carlos. Just trust me.” Marcus looked Carlos dead in the eye, not blinking.
“Fine,” Carlos agreed, putting his hands up in defense. “Anyway, what stocks are you buying?”
As Marcus launched into an explanation of the current economy, Carlos let his mind wander. Sure, Cecil was cute, but Marcus had seemed pretty adamant that it was in his best interests to avoid him. And he had said that he liked Carlos. Seeing as he had extremely limited field research, and Marcus could be seen as the ‘head scientist’ of this experiment, and Carlos really didn’t want to screw up the first friendship he was on his way to making, he decided to let it slide.
Now, to figure out how to get Marcus to stop talking and tell him where his next class was.