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He was bored.
How bored?
Well on a scale of one to… to… to octo-thousand-billion, he was at octo-thousand-billion. Which was a lot. At least, he thought it was.
It didn’t really matter, though, because other kids his age would be arriving soon. That was going to be nice, seeing kids his own age. It was a rare treat that he got to meet with anyone other than Chloe.
It wasn’t that he disliked Chloe — she was his best friend, after all — she just liked to be in charge of every game they played. Which was… fine. He just wished he could play something other than whatever games she was in the mood for.
Maybe the kids today would want to play sheriff and bandits? He hoped so.
“Are you alright, Adrien?”
He turned to look at his mother. Her long blonde hair was pinned under a linen cap, making her mouth — pressed into a fine line — seem larger than it was.
“I’m fine, mére,” he said.
She smiled, although it didn’t quite meet her eyes.
“The other children will be here soon for their lessons.”
“Lessons?”
“Yes,” she said, smoothing his hair down. Even though he couldn’t see it, he knew it wasn’t going to do much. His hair never liked lying flat. “Don’t you remember? All of the children in Rochers are welcome to learn how to read and write.”
“Oh.”
So they weren’t coming to the church to play with him.
He hunched over the table, resting his cheek on his arm.
“There will be time to play later, minou.” His mother rubbed circles on his back.
“But why can’t we play when they get here?”
“Not everyone has the freedom to learn to read and write. I wanted to make sure that everyone can have the same education as you do.”
Adrien hummed. It still didn’t seem fair, though. Lessons were boring . The other kids probably wanted to play as much as he did.
Oh well.
It wasn’t long before a few others turned up. Three boys and three girls. All of them were just as different from one another as he was from them.
They were excited to learn. Each of them took up a stool in the circle of the makeshift classroom before the friar who would be leading the class handed out writing slates and pieces of chalk.
His mother led him to one of the empty chairs in the back, and he was handed one of the slates and a piece of chalk as well.
Adrien… did not understand their excitement. The way their eyes lit up and they wriggled in their seats, waiting for their lesson to begin. It was just writing.
“Alright, everyone,” the friar said, looking around the room. “Let’s see how much we remember from last week.”
He took a look around the room, a nervous bundle of energy rising in his throat. He didn’t know what last week’s lesson was.
“Just write the alphabet,” his mother said quietly in his ear.
That he could do.
He didn’t have the neatest handwriting — according to his tutor, at least. He think that he did pretty okay.
He was most of the way through the alphabet, carefully going over the letters as he mouthed their sound, when a girl sat down next to him.
“Sorry,” she said quietly to the friar, who brought over a slate and a piece of chalk for her.
“I’m glad you made it, Marinette,” the friar said, just as quietly. “We’re repeating the tail end of last week’s lesson. Think you can catch up before I call time?”
“Yes, Brother Fu.”
He smiled at her and pat the top of her head. When he saw that Adrien was watching the exchange, he gave him a slightly wider grin.
“Better finish up,” the friar said, tapping the writing slate Adrien was using.
He quickly got back to work. Just as he was finishing up the last letter, the friar called time and everyone stopped writing.
“Alright,” the friar said, looking around the room, “why don’t we show everyone how well we did.”
Adrien thought he had done pretty well for himself, until he saw the others’ handwriting. His was just downright messy.
“Ha!” said one of the boys — he was slightly bigger than the rest of them but he was just as skinny. “Look at his!”
He pointed directly at Adrien’s slate, laughing so hard he fell off his chair.
Adrien felt the tips of his ears heat up, and he ducked his head down.
“Don’t be mean, Kim,” said one of the other boys.
“That’s okay,” the girl next to him said. “We can fix this, right, Brother Fu?”
“Of course!” the friar said. “That’s the point of these lessons. Marinette, why don’t you help him out, hm?”
She smiled widely and turned to him. Taking a piece of cloth, she erased the incorrect chalk marks on his slate, guiding him through how to do them correctly.
“I’m Marinette,” she said when they’d finished.
“Adrien,” he said. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Do you want to play sheriff and bandits with us after our lesson?”
He couldn’t say no to that.