Chapter Text
If it wasn't dead silent, maybe you'd tap your pencil against your paper in boredom. Watch as the eraser hits the inked paper, a continuous ‘tap, tap, tap’ meeting your ears. But you don't do that, because right now you're supposed to be focusing on a test.
Physics honors wasn't too hard, at least not to you. You had an A in this class, so you definitely weren't struggling. Perhaps it was the silence that seemed to hold you back. The silence that made you afraid to swallow the saliva building in your mouth; and yet you do so anyway. Luckily for you, a groan from your left covers the audible ‘gulp’ that escapes you.
You spare a quick glance, not wanting to stare when it'd be so obvious that you were doing so, and peek at a boy with his head in his hands. A black bandana wraps around his hair, and if he keeps tugging at it, you think it might fall right off.
Realizing that you've gotten off track once again, you allow a sigh to fall from your lips as you stare back at your paper. Gripping your pencil tightly in your hands, you get to writing. When has silence ever stopped you from getting a good grade?
As soon as the bell rings, you manage to finish the last question. Immediately, chatter starts up again, and your shoulders drop as the tension leaves them. You hand your paper to your teacher, a petite woman with blonde hair named Mrs. Hedy, who smiles at you as she takes the paper from your hand. You send a small smile back, more so out of respect than anything else, but when you turn to leave, she calls your name.
You shuffle awkwardly to the side of her desk, trying to keep out of the way of students trying to turn their tests in and rush out. She doesn't say anything to you, not until every last student has filed out of the door. Which never happens, as the boy with the black bandana stays still in his seat, head laying in his arms.
“Casey.” Mrs. Hedy calls, and when the boy doesn't respond, she calls for him again in a louder tone. “Casey!”
This has the boy shooting up in his seat, the test paper sticking to his face because of the drool running down his chin. His eyes are wide as he frantically searches the empty room, only slightly calming down when he has you and your physics teacher in his sights.
“Huh?” He hums in confusion, pulling the paper away from his face with minor embarrassment.
Mrs. Hedy huffs at his actions before turning to you. “Would you say you enjoy this class?”
The question has you looking away from the seated woman with furrowed brows. Did you like it? Not necessarily. It was alright.
“Yeah.” You say instead.
She turns to Casey again, watching as he saunters over towards her desk. He drops his test into the tray already full of other's tests before spinning around to walk away. As you watch him do this, the two of you make eye contact. You quickly alter your line of sight as he passes.
“Jones.” Mrs. Hedy looks towards him, head tilted with an expression of disapproval. The boy in question freezes in place, his shoulders raising as he slowly turns towards the short woman. “I need to talk to you, too.”
Oh, no.
This phrase practically radiates off the boy. He walks slow, his steps showcasing his apprehension. He stops when he's at your side, although this time his gaze is solely on Mrs. Hedy's form. Was this a common occurrence for him to be kept after class to talk to a teacher?
“You already have a tutor for trigonometry, right, Casey?” Mrs. Hedy asks, though it seems she's already sure of the answer.
Despite this, the black-haired boy nods his head.
“And you're doing much better in that class, which I'm happy about.” Her blonde hair falls onto her shoulder as she leans down, reaching into a drawer attached to her desk. Pulling out multiple sheets of paper, all with Casey's name on them, she continues. “But I can't say the same for physics.”
The atmosphere grows awkward. Why were you here again? Were you meant to be some sort of emotional support for a boy you've never even noticed was sitting right next to you?
She holds the papers out; confusingly, for the both of you to look at, and you had to hold back a wince at the horrible, red zeros marked on each and every page. Either this Casey guy wasn't trying at all, or he was just plain stupid.
“So, I thought you might do good with another tutor.” She quickly retracts the papers from your guy's sight, shuffling them back into a neat pile before stuffing them into that same drawer she had gotten them from. Though her words take hold of your attention more than anything else.
Tutor?
A crackling realization sets upon you, and it seems, despite his supposed lack of intelligence, Casey realizes the same thing. Mrs. Hedy says your name, causing you to cast your eyes onto hers.
“Are you alright with tutoring Casey here? You'll get plenty of extra credit for it.” Mrs. Hedy asks, as if she hadn't backed you into a corner.
Perhaps if it was just the two of you, you'd shake your head hurriedly. No! No, I don't want to! But with the feeling of Casey's stare on the side of your head, along with Mrs. Hedy's hopeful gaze, you can't bring yourself to say what you really wanted to. Instead, you cast your gaze downwards, displeasure hidden behind your neutral expression.
“Yeah, I don't mind.” But you do! You do mind! This is going to mess up your schedule! A schedule meant to be followed to a T! Now you'll have to fit an entire hour or so with this dweeb because he'd rather sleep through his classes than learn anything!
“That's good. Casey Jones, this is Y/n L/n. They're one of my best students, so I'm sure they'll be able to give you a hand.” Mrs. Hedy smiles warmly at you and then at him.
Casey stays silent for a bit before turning towards you with an expression that screams, ‘I want nothing to do with you, but if it'll get this lady off my back then whatever’. He raises a hand, and it takes you a few seconds to realize he wants to shake hands.
“Nice to meet you.” You say, purely out of politeness.
“Yeah.” His voice is low from a mixture of tiredness and boredom.
“Great! Now, I'm going to hand you a worksheet that you got a zero on, so you and Y/n can look over it together.” She hands the paper to the uninterested boy, unaware of the mutual distaste for this decision lingering in the air. “That's all for now, I want this sheet done by the time you get to my class tomorrow, alright?”
You and Casey both mumble agreements, but you're sure that neither of you really want to follow those guidelines. Even so, you didn't want to make yourself look bad by not helping him, so you'd push through.
After that's over, she sends Casey and you off to your own devices. This means an awkward walk to your lockers was in store. As soon as the two of you step out of the classroom, with you closing the door behind you, Casey lets out a loud groan.
“Man, she's so nosey!” You raise a brow, utterly confused, until Casey turns towards you. “Y'know, before this, she kept bothering me about how I was doing at home and stuff, but the only reason I always fall asleep in her class is because of how boring it is!”
You see this as his attempt to connect with you, so you nod along despite not agreeing. You actually liked Mrs. Hedy. And you could tell that she had Casey's best interests in mind, but it seems the boy himself was turning a blind eye to the fact.
“Anyways, what's your grade in there?” He says, adjusting his bandana as he starts walking, leading you to walk at his side.
“I've got an A.” You answer curtly, but he doesn't seem satisfied.
“I mean, like, your percentage.” He clarified, messing with the worksheet Mrs. Hedy had given him.
“Oh, 103 percent.” He pauses his walking, whipping around to face you with an expression you can only describe as utter bewilderment.
“What?” His voice is full of disbelief, and when you don't show any sign of lying, his jaw drops. “Are you some kind of genius or something?”
You huff, an almost offended smile on your face. “I just get a bunch of extra credit.”
“How?” Casey raises a brow at you.
“Passing out papers, staying after school to help with stuff, etc.” You list off before your eyes widen. “Oh, Mrs. Hedy actually asked me to help her with something on Wednesday for extra credit. Do you wanna come?”
Casey looks at you with a face filled with so much disgust that it makes you flinch.
“Whatever, I'm not the one with a zero in physics.” You say, mostly out of pettiness.
“I don't have a zero!” Casey yells defensively, and if the hallways weren't basically empty, you'd be embarrassed by his volume. The boy then grows quiet, a sharp contrast to his previous noise. “I have a two.”
You resist the urge to laugh. The only thing holding you back is the obvious embarrassment on his face.
“Exactly, you need every point you can muster up.” He doesn't answer, so you speed up your pace, and only then does he snap out of his self-pity trance.
“Where are you going?” He holds his arms out, clutching his returned paper tightly in his right hand.
“I've got work tomorrow, so I can't help you today.” You only stop your brisk walk once you spot your locker number. Quickly putting in the code, you pull the door open and throw your physics book onto the top shelf of the locker.
“What? That doesn't even make sense.” The boy complains, a frown on his face.
“I'm busy, is what I mean.” You zip up your bag as you say this, pulling the straps over your shoulders with practiced ease. “We'll have to meet up some other time.”
Casey stands there dumbly, unsure whether to stay or go. It's a little embarrassing to do your usual routine of packing up when this guy's just standing over you like that. Eventually, the boy moves to lean against the locker next to yours, much to your relief.
“Where's your locker?” You ask, if only to distract yourself from the way you're struggling to unlock your backpack zipper.
He hums, looking to the side as he surveys the empty halls. “Downstairs, real close to the entrance.”
As soon as you've got everything where you want it, you're sliding your bag straps onto your shoulder and closing your locker. “That's convenient. Do you need anything from there?”
You only ask because he's not carrying anything on his person, except for the paper Mrs. Hedy had given him, of course. Once again, he hums, brows furrowed as he seems to go through his entire brain to find the answer.
“Ah, I actually do need some stuff.” He says suddenly, bouncing up from the locker he was leaning on and beginning his trek downstairs.
You follow behind him, checking in your mind that you've got everything you need. But before you can finish, Casey interrupts.
“You know I play ice hockey?” He asks, and if you were naive, you wouldn't know he was trying to brag.
“Do you play for a team, or is it just for fun?” You ask in response, not because you were genuinely curious, but because you wanted to fill in the uncomfortable silence.
“I'm on the ice hockey team. You wouldn't know just from watching the games, but I'm actually their best player.” He wears a smug smirk on his face, fully unaware of just how ridiculous he sounds.
“Oh, really?” There's a hint of sarcasm in your voice, but you don't fix it.
Casey leans his head back, eyes closed with a narrow smile. “Yeah, pretty sure you haven't gone to any of my games, but if you did, you'd hear everyone cheering for me.”
You roll your eyes, thankful that his own were shut. You've gone to one of the ice hockey games once, only because you heard they were giving out free popcorn if you bought a ticket. Long story short, it was quite the letdown. Maybe it was because you weren't really focused on the game, and more so on the popcorn that had ended up being some tasteless, soggy abomination, but either way, your night was ruined afterward.
However, instead of saying any of that, you simply hum, coming to a pause at the end of the staircase. Casey continues to go on about his games and who's got beef with who on his team as he leads you towards his locker. And although you're blocking out most of what he says, you nod along every time he spares a glance towards you.
“And then they threatened to kick me off the team! Can you believe that? Even though trigo-whatever is so useless!” He turns his locker dial roughly, cursing whenever he accidently skips over a number. “I mean, at least Red was my tutor. I wish she could be my tutor for everything, but she's not much better at physics than I am.”
Ignoring the unsaid displeasure with you as his tutor, you stare at him questioningly. “Red? Who's that?”
He glances towards you as he finally puts his code in correctly, shoving the door open as he answers. “Oh, I mean April. You know her?”
Something clicks in your head at that. He must be referring to the strange girl with red hair in your art class. You say strange because, well, you really don't know how else to describe her. She's always randomly leaving, and not just in that class either. You're a little worried about her attendance. But more importantly, she's always muttering about weird things and writing down strange notes about someone named K.
Not to mention her little drawing of these green lizard dudes. She never turns them in, but you see her sketching them sometimes. Maybe she has pet lizards? Or maybe she just likes reptiles. Who knows. Honestly, you usually steer clear of her because she really just freaks you out. Though you might be forced to interact with her if Casey sees fit.
“I've seen her around.” You say, eyes roaming the halls as Casey takes his sweet time grabbing his hockey gear.
There's a fit of silence after that as Casey gathers his belongings and throws his hockey bag over his shoulders. After slamming his locker shut, he starts walking towards the exit, as do you.
“Y'know, I have practice on Wednesday. You should come watch.” He says offhandedly, one hand holding a strap of his bag and the other stuffed into his pocket.
You stare at him for a few seconds, truly doubting his intelligence before reminding him, “I'm helping Mrs. Hedy this Wednesday, remember?”
“Well I didn't think you were serious about that.” He huffs, rolling his eyes at the mention of the woman while pushing the school doors open with his shoulder. “Whatever, Red's watching me practice anyway.”
You ignore his words, if only to save yourself the trouble of getting annoyed. And with the concrete underneath your feet, you quickly realize that it's time to depart from your forced companion.
“Well, I've gotta go so… bye.” You offer a simple wave his way and start walking immediately after.
You hear Casey sputter behind you, clearly offput by your sudden departure, but he eventually mutters out a good-bye of his own; walking the other direction.
And as soon as he's out of earshot, you let out an enormous groan, your head hanging low in despair. Why did this have to happen to you? You help Mrs. Hedy all the time, what did she have against you to force you into teaching that absolute buffoon?
Whatever, you'd just either have to deal with it or beg Mrs. Hedy to get someone else to tutor Casey. Though when you really thought about it, that'd be super awkward. Not only does he sit by you, which you've only realized today, mind you, but he's also going to wonder why you're not the one tutoring him anymore. What if he asks you about it? What if he beats you up over it?
With furrowed brows, you pass the alleyway you always do when you're close to home. After every school day, you spend a second or two considering walking down the desolate space, but the thought of being robbed or outright murdered always convinced you that the extra two minutes on your journey was worth it. Of course, you don't think you're interesting enough for it to happen anyway, but it's a scary thought.
You snap out of your thoughts when your shoulder hits something that feels rock solid, which just so happens to be a grown man’s shoulder. Your face heats up in embarrassment, and you mutter a quick apology and speed up your pace. This time, you watch where you're going so you don't bump into any more men in suits.
As soon as you get home, you'll have to start on your homework, or else you probably won't get it done. And then you have to put some more music on your Walkman, and you also have to update your calendar schedule now that Casey’s in the picture, and weren't you planning to buy something from the corner store nearby?
Man, you need a break.