Chapter Text
James Wilson checked himself out in the mirrors of his 2003 Chevy, having parked perfectly between the painted lines of Princeton-Plainsboro High School's senior parking lot.
"Wish I'd brought a comb," he mumbled, patting his cowlick. A knock on the car window startled Wilson out of his thoughts.
Gregory House stood beside the car, looking equally disheveled and expectant. Wilson rolled down the window.
While Wilson had gone for a more casually studious look for his first day, House had gone in a slightly different direction. In place of Wilson's plain white v-neck, House sported a ripped Rolling Stones t-shirt. Where Wilson's green flannel asked the world: "Can I invite my tutor to your party?", House's worn leather jacket asked: "What the absolute fuck are you talking about?"
"If you're done entertaining your vanity, we have a school to attend," House remarked, mockingly.
Wilson rolled his eyes and got out of his car. "Did you ride here?"
"No, I walked." House prodded Wilson with his cane. "I'm a cripple, of course I rode here."
"Well I don't see that orange and black death trap, so I'm assuming you drove?" Wilson pursed his lips disapprovingly.
"Nah, I brought the death trap. She's back there somewhere." House gestured behind him. "Oh!" He whacked his friend with his cane.
"Ow, what the fuck?"
"Look!" House waves the end of the cane around. It had a pattern of flames at the bottom of it.
"You turned your cane into a hot rod?" They kept walking.
"It matches the bike now!"
"You're ridiculous."
The two walked in silence for a moment and Wilson studied House. He saw his friend scanning the crowd of students.
"Looking for someone?" Wilson asked.
"Planning my world domination," House muttered, lost in thought.
- - - -
Remy Hadley, known by most as Thirteen, rushed into the kitchen to grab a piece of toast and her car keys. Her rush to the door was interrupted by the firm grip of her father's arms around her shoulders. She gave a quick squeeze back, attempting to escape.
"I can't believe you're a senior already." Her father looked at her, misty eyed. "Your mother would be making you one of her special breakfasts right about now."
Thirteen tried to escape the hug. "I know, Dad."
"She would be so, so proud of you."
"Yeah, I know." Thirteen made eye contact with her father for a moment before breaking free and rushing to the door. "I don't want to be late!"
- - - -
"Chris, you're sure you want to wear that shirt?"
Chris Taub's mother anxiously surveyed her son's attire. Her son was tying a sneaker while she tried to smooth the wrinkles out of his grey shirt.
"Yes, Mom. I need to get going." Taub was halfway out the door, desperate to escape his mother's clutches.
"At least let me iron it!"
Chris eyed the wall clock. "Christ, is that the time. I don't have time for ironing!" He grabbed some money off the counter and stuffed it in his jeans.
"Well, you need to eat some breakfast first!"
"I'm fine, really! I have to pick someone up!" Taub threw open the front door.
"Your girlfriend?"
"No! I have to go!" Taub slammed the door, jumped in his car, and roared out of the driveway.
- - - -
Eric Foreman leaned up against the bus stop waiting for his ride. His phone rang and he picked it up quickly.
"Where are you?" The boy hissed, angrily.
"I'm coming I'm sorry, my mom was holding me up, alright? Just start walking to the end of the block or something, I'll meet you there." The boy didn't sound the least bit apologetic.
"C'mon Taub, what are you doing to me here?"
"I'm telling you, I'm sorry ok? It wasn't my fault."
Foreman rolled his eyes and picked up his backpack. "Fine I'll start walking, but this is the last time you get to play the fretting Jewish mother card. I'm not gonna buy it every time."
"I'll be there in ten." The line cut off and Foreman stuffed his phone back into the pocket of his khakis.
It was hot out and Foreman wiped sweat from the back of his neck. He angrily kicked a pebble down the sidewalk.
Twelve minutes later, Foreman watched a grey sedan roll up the curb. Foreman rolled his eyes and got in the passenger seat.
"That was twelve minutes," he said.
Taub pulled onto the road. "I'm sorry I'm not used to timing how long it takes me to drive to the hood," he muttered.
"Surprised it didn't take you longer. Hobbitland is pretty damn far."
Taub managed a dry chuckle. "Ah yes, you're black and I'm short. House must be proud."
- - - -
"No Mom, it's really not ok!" Robert Chase glared angrily at his mother.
"It's only one drink, darling. Calm down." Mrs. Chase leaned on the railing of the balcony, sipping a bloody mary.
"Today is my first day of school! I cannot drive my baby sister all over town every morning because you can't sober up!" Chase's Australian accent got thick when he was angry and his mother chuckled.
"Call the nanny or call your father."
Chase left her angrily and opened his phone. His father would never pick up for something as trivial as this, so he called the nanny. After persuading the nanny to look after his sister, Chase left the house in a huff. He was eager to get to school and take his mind off things.
- - - -
Wilson shoved his backpack into his locker and looked around for House. Just a few moments before, House had been walking to his locker.
"Well, he's gone now," Wilson muttered. An auburn haired girl caught his eye and he rushed over to her.
"Cuddy!" He exclaimed. "How was your summer?"
Lisa Cuddy turned around, her eyes bright. Her lipstick matched her shoes.
"It was wonderful! Believe me, it was difficult to divide my time between fun and studying, but Barbados is beautiful for both." They embraced.
"Did House find you?" Wilson asked. "He was with me a moment ago..."
"No I haven't seen him," Cuddy said shrugging. "We'll see him in assembly. Would you mind helping me find Jeffrey? He said he'd meet me out front but I haven't seen him."
"Jeffrey?"
"Oh, you idiot," she laughed, affectionately. "C'mon."
- - - -
House strolled through the halls, aware of the looks he was getting from the surrounding student body. Then through the cliques, he spotted a skinny, scruffy-looking kid in a camo jacket.
"Lucas!" He shouted. The boy whipped around, slamming his locker door shut.
"Hey, House! Long time no see." Lucas raised his hand for a high five but got nothing in return.
House shifted his weight onto the neighboring locker. "True. Anything interesting happen?"
Lucas's eyes darted around. "Half the school thought you OD'd over the summer."
House frowned, eyeing the passerbys. "And this is interesting...why?"
"Because you didn't!" Lucas was like an excited puppy. House could tell he had something else to say. He rolled his eyes.
"Fine, I'll ask. Did you sleep with anyone?"
Lucas grinned. "Megan."
House raised an eyebrow. "Ok," he said. "Number one: You did not sleep with Megan Lansen. She is a double D and you are at most...maybe three inches. Number two: you're not blonde, you're not buff, and your name is not Dylan Dunham."
The boy in mention was comparing pec sizes with the other members of the football team outside the boy's bathroom.
Lucas's grin didn't waver. "Ok, maybe not Megan Lansen but a different Megan. She's in my swimming class."
"You swim?" House was skeptical.
"You care?"
House scoffed and began to walk away. "You'd better have used protection! The world doesn't need any more incompetent idiots in it."
- - - -
Wilson took a seat next to Thirteen on the bleachers.
"Where's Taub and Foreman?" He asked.
"Really?" She asked, chuckling. "No 'How was your summer Thirteen?'"
Wilson blinked. "Sorry. How was your summer Thirteen? Do you know where Taub and Foreman are?"
Thirteen smirked. "I dunno. They're usually here by now. Foreman is pretty militant about getting here on time. Where's House?"
"I dunno. I was with him at the lockers but he wandered off." Wilson scanned the crowd of settling students. Then he grinned. "Can you believe we're seniors?"
"Yes, actually," Thirteen murmured. "I dunno how any of us made it here without being expelled or killed..." She trailed off. She suddenly looked uncomfortable.
Wilson swallowed and cast his eyes downward. "Listen, about Kutner..."
Thirteen shook her head, discouraging his sentence. "The only thing to say about Kutner is he'd be grinning like the idiot he was at all this." She smiled, sadly, looking around the gym at the socializing students.
Chase slumped down beside them with an audible groan.
"Rough morning?" Thirteen said.
"No," he muttered.
Soon enough, the general din of the gymnasium died down and Principal Vogler approached the podium. Taub and Foreman elbowed their way onto the bench to sit next to Chase.
"We're here, we're here," Taub said.
"No thanks to you," Foreman whispered.
"You would be stranded in gang city if it wasn't for me," Taub shot back.
Wilson snapped his fingers in front of them. "Shush, save the catfight for later."
Taub noticed the lack of belittling remarks that would normally linger in the atmosphere and he looked around. "Where's House?"
"I have no idea," Wilson whispered back. "He'll be here eventually."