Chapter Text
“Are you sure you're ready for this, Barry?” Henry asked as the car slowed to a stop at the school crosswalk. “It's only been two weeks since you woke up and I would completely understand if you think it's too soon to go back to school.”
Barry looked over at his father and forced as big a smile as possible. “I'm sure dad. I've missed enough class time already and if I want to graduate on time and have any chance at getting into Hudson University, then I need to get back to hitting the books.”
Henry tried to match his son's enthusiasm but his smile broke and he quickly turned his attention to the group of kids passing through the crosswalk. He hesitated a few seconds, possibly trying to hold back a few tears – “Well, try to take it easy. Don't overdo it and, if you need anything, call my cell and I'll be right over to pick you up.”
“I'll be fine, dad. You can stop worrying about me.”
“Never, son.” He smiled, this time a genuine smile. He watched as Barry stepped out of the car and pulled his messenger bag over his shoulder before waving goodbye and heading up the sidewalk to the main entrance. “Be safe,” Henry whispered to himself once he saw Barry pass through the doors of the school.
*****
Barry was nervous, he just didn't want his dad to know just how nervous he really was. New Brighton High School was twice as large as his old school back in Keystone City and easily had three times as many students. Honestly, it was a bit intimidating. But Central City was home now and he would just have to tough it out a few months until graduation.
Just inside the doors was the admissions office where a smiley secretary told him to have a seat until Miss Watson was available to meet him. She handed him a folder containing his class schedule and few other bit of paperwork about his new school and all of the “fun” activities they offered. Soon he heard his name being called and he was shown into an adjoining office.
After his brief meeting with Miss Watson – the short, blonde guidance councilor – Barry followed her into the nearly empty hallway where he was introduced to a pretty brunette in a pink dress holding a NBHS clipboard. “This is Susan Dearborn. She's the secretary on the senior student council and volunteers as our unofficial 'welcome wagon' for new students. Susan, this is Barry Allen.”
“It's a pleasure to meet you Barry,” she said, reaching out to shake his hand. “I've got it from here, Miss Watson,” she said with a cheerful lilt in her voice.
“Thanks, Susan. And remember, Barry, my door is always open if you need anything,” she said before turning and disappearing into her office.
“Open except when she's snogging Mr. Bivolo,” Susan whispered once the door had closed. Barry gave her a funny look and she blushed a bit before changing the subject. “Sorry, so... I guess we'll start with a tour of the school. Miss Watson gave me a copy of your schedule so I can show you where all of your classes are located as we make our way around. But first, this is your locker,” she said, pointing to the third one down from Miss Watson's door.
“Hehe, number 123, should be easy enough to remember,” Barry said nervously, trying to make small talk. He never was good at talking to new people – especially pretty girls.
“A smart guy like you, I'm sure it'll be easy,” Susan said as they began their walk down the hallway. “I mean, not just anyone wins the Albright Science Award.”
Barry stopped midstep, surprised. “How, did you know about that? Did Miss Watson tell you?”
Susan blushed again, clearly saying more than she had intended. “Sorry, I kinda cyber-stalked your social media accounts while I was waiting for you to finish with Miss Watson. Don't feel bad, I do it to everyone in the school.”
They continued down the hall, Susan talking and Barry only half paying attention to what she was saying. Clearly, Susan loved to get into everyone's personal business and that was the last thing he needed: a nosy girl poking into his old life. It would be hard enough being the new kid without someone gossiping about his six-month coma – or worse, his mom's death – to a bunch of strangers.
After the hour-long tour, Susan helped Barry log into his school account in the library computer lab. From here he could access all of the info he needed for his classes as well as a list of his homework assignments for each subject. There was also a contact list where he could add classmates for online study sessions. He was only mildly surprised to see that Susan had already sent him a request to be added.
Susan was kind enough to escort Barry to his second period chemistry class, waving a quick goodbye before rushing to her own class. He entered the room which was still empty. Class didn't begin for another twelve minutes and there was obviously no class in this room first period. Unsure of where to sit, in case there was assigned seating, he stood by the lab table nearest the teacher's desk. He glanced around the room taking note of how much more advanced the equipment looked than that of his old school's lab.
“Can I help you?” asked a deep voice from the doorway. Barry turned and saw the voice belonged to a man barely taller than himself with a head covered in short, black dreadlocks. He was wearing a yellow shirt that complimented his dark, caramel skin and a garish tie that looked like a psychedelic Pollock painting.
“Uh, sorry, I'm Barry Allen. Today's my first day and I was waiting for class to start.”
“Oh, right. Mr. Allen, I forgot you would be starting with us today,” the man said with a wide smile. “I'm Mr. Mendez, your chemistry teacher. It's a pleasure to meet you. I've been through your transcripts and I'm very impressed – and that's not a compliment that I typically throw around.”
The bell for the end of the first period sounded overhead and Mr. Mendez instructed Barry to an available seat near the front of the room. As he settled into his chair, he watched Mr. Mendez don a white lab coat in preparation for class then grab a book from a supply closet behind his desk.
“Here's your textbook, Mr. Allen. We're on chapter four if you want to glance over it before we start. I'll print you a syllabus while we work on the lab exercises. We'll have an odd number in the class now, but I'll have you team-up with one of the other pairs temporarily, if that's OK.”
Barry just nodded and grunted in the affirmative as he flipped open his book to chapter four. People were slowly filtering into the room and he could feel the stares of his classmates as they took in his presence. At his old school, he was mostly invisible – which he preferred – usually remaining close behind his BFF Iris West. This sudden foray into the limelight had him feeling flustered and warm. He kept telling himself that this would all blow over once the novelty of being new wore off and he could hide in the shadows again.
For a brief moment, in his peripheral vision, he thought he saw Iris sitting in the seat next to him. The girl's dark skin and long black hair combined with the recent thoughts of his best friend had momentarily tricked his brain into thinking it was really her. Barry stole another glance. She was attractive but in a very different way than Iris, taller and more toned as if she played sports or at least worked out regularly.
Once she had settled into her seat and collected her book from her backpack, Barry could see her shift to face him. “You must be Barry Allen,” she said.
“Yeah, that's me,” he responded, slightly surprised.
“I'm Natasha Irons. It's great to meet you,” she said with a smile. “I heard you won an Albright Award. It'll be nice to have someone who can challenge me – intellectually, I mean.”
Barry raised a questioning eyebrow. “Are you friends with Susan Dearborn?”
Natasha laughed. “Yeah, Sue's the one who told me about you. I'm the student council president, she's the secretary. Between you and me, I think she gets a little confused over which information is vital and which is gossip, but she means no harm.”
Barry smiled in response. He like Natasha, she made him feel instantly comfortable. He could see it as being the reason she was elected class president. Surely he wouldn't be lucky enough to be partnered with her on the lab exercises.
The bell for class rang and the teacher began by quickly introducing Barry before jumping into his lecture. It was quickly clear that Mr. Mendez had a passion for both teaching and science. He had a sense of humor that seemed on par with his students and he made lots of geeky references to Star Trek and the like. It was only twenty minutes into the period and Barry already loved this class.
He reviewed the lab exercise for the day and handed out a worksheet for the students to complete as they worked. “Alright, guys, get with your lab partners and get started on exercises 4.1 and 4.2. I want these papers turned in by the end of class,” Mr. Mendez shouted over the din of chairs sliding across tiled floors.
While the other students chatted and poked about getting into their groups, Barry focused his attention on the worksheet. It seemed simple enough, he'd have no problem doing it – even if he had to work by himself.
He suddenly felt a presence behind him and heard someone clear their throat. Barry turned to see a tall guy with cold, blue eyes staring down at him. “My partner skipped school today so it looks like it's you and me, Red,” he said in a deep, but smooth voice.
“Red?” Barry asked, confused. The other boy pointed at Barry's chest. He forgot he had worn a red t-shirt today. “Oh, right.”
They walked to a table at the back of the room, just inside the door. “So, kid, you got a name? Or would you prefer me to keep calling you 'Red?'”
Despite his attempt to prevent it, Barry's cheeks flushed – part in frustration and part in embarrassment. “It's Barry. Barry Allen. Mr. Mendez introduced me at the start of class... ring any bells?”
“I wasn't really paying attention.” The corner of his mouth turned up slightly in a cocky half-grin. Barry waited for him to introduce himself, but he never did. Then Barry noticed a name neatly printed in blue ink on the top of his worksheet.
“Len... Snart?” Barry asked, trying to read the name upside-down. He glanced up from his paper and Barry could feel the cold, blue eyes piercing his soul.
“Well done, Sherlock,” he said sarcastically. “Now, how about you investigate the supply closet and get what we need for this experiment.” It was definitely an order and not a request.
Barry and Len worked on the exercises mostly in silence. Mr. Mendez stopped by several times to see how they were progressing and was surprised that, despite it being his first day, Barry was well ahead of the other students on the assignment.
As they recorded the last few results on the worksheet, Len spoke for the first time since they started. “I may have underestimated you, Allen.” Barry smiled and was about to respond when he was interrupted by Len. “Don't get too attached to me, kid. My partner will be back tomorrow and you'll be flying solo.” Barry could only roll his eyes at the comment.
The pair had already begun to clean their work station as the other students hurriedly turned in their worksheets to do the same before the final bell. Mr. Mendez wrote the reading assignment on the chalkboard and gave an ominous warning about “The Big Project” on the horizon. Barry was certain from the groan of his classmates that this was something they all dreaded.
About halfway to his next class, AP English, Natasha caught up to him. “I'm impressed,” she said. “I'm surprised you finished the exercises before us, especially given who your partner was. Bad luck you got paired up with Snart today. Maybe Mr. Mendez will let you join my group – I wouldn't mind having another brain to consult on 'The Big Project.'”
“What exactly is this project?” Barry asked.
“I keep forgetting you're not from Central City,” she said. “Every year, Mercury Labs holds a sort-of science fair – only it's way bigger and better than a normal school science fair. We have to 'innovate a new invention for the betterment of mankind,'” she said, making air quotes with her fingers as she rattled off the last bit. “The top three projects from our school compete with schools from the rest of the state. The best part is that the top projects get put into production at Mercury Labs and the students get to do a summer internship there and help in the development.”
Barry was impressed. Even though Keystone City was less than 100 miles away from Central City, it was in another state and thus excluded from the contest. This could be a great opportunity for him, especially if he won and got to do an internship at Mercury Labs.
Thoughts of the project occupied his mind throughout English and well into his next class: Art with the infamous Mr. Bivolo. Barry wasn't too impressed with his art teacher, he seemed like a hipster – with his slicked-back black hair, thick-rimmed glasses, and the bow tie/cardigan fashion combo – trying too hard to be “too cool for school.”
The bell ending fourth period sounded and Barry felt a sudden twinge in his stomach knowing it was time for senior lunch. The pang wasn't from hunger – well, mostly not – but from the sudden panic of entering THE CAFETERIA. He was at a total loss of protocol for his new school. Normally, he would be sitting with Iris and his few other friends at their usual table. But now there was no Iris and he had no idea where to sit or even how the cliques divvied-up the lunch room turf. He could end up sitting in jock territory and spend the break watching them play keep-away with his lunch bag.
He closed his locker door only to see Sue leaning against the locker beside him. “I know exactly what you're thinking right now, and lunch your first day at a new school can really suck,” she said linking her elbow with his and pulling him toward the cafeteria. “Natasha and I thought you might like to sit with us, at least until you made some other friends and found your niche.”
Barry smiled, unable to believe his sudden luck. They entered the cafeteria and headed for the center-most table. Natasha smiled broadly and waved as she saw the pair approach. “Aww, you two make such a cute couple,” she said.
Barry blushed but Sue rolled her eyes at the comment. “You sound like my mother, Nat. Always trying to hook me up with someone because apparently a girl can't be single and happy.”
As the two bickered about Natasha's matchmaking skills – or the lack of said skills – Barry watched the other students filtering into the cafeteria. Soon he could see the formation of boundaries between the cliques and even within them. Emo-Goth kids were clumped in the farthest corner away from the windows. Nearby, a band of band geeks spread across several tables with their instrument cases seated beside them. The jocks had there own corner, too, with heavy football-types closest to the food lines and the tall basketballers near the double doors leading to the patio.
Barry watched a boy with spiky hair wearing a bright purple shirt head to the table next to his. He was balancing a tray of food in one hand and carried a soccer ball under his other arm while sliding out a chair with his foot. In a single, fluid movement, he slid into the seat and dropped the tray gently on the table. Once seated, he looked up and saw Barry watching him. He gave him a wink and a smile before he was joined by several other guys all laughing and talking loudly about something almost certainly soccer-related.
His own table had also begun to fill. Next to Natasha was her lab partner and – as he soon discovered when he kissed her on the cheek – boyfriend, Mal Duncan. Beside Mal sat a girl he didn't recognize but learned was his younger sister, Val. Last to the table was a lanky blonde boy, who Barry remembered from both his English and Art classes.
“Hey. Barry Allen, isn't it?” the blonde asked as he dropped into the only available chair. Barry nodded and shook the hand offered to him. “Donny Hall, I think we have a few classes together. Great to meet you.”
“Thanks, Donny. It's nice to meet you, too.”
“How are classes so far?” he asked, genuinely interested.
“Good. Really good, actually. I loved chemistry with Mr. Mendez,” Barry answered honestly.
“I'm surprised,” Donny said. “Natasha told me you got stuck with Leonard Snart as your lab partner. He and my brother are on the wrestling team together so I know he's not the easiest guy to get along with.”
“Your brother?” Barry asked.
“Yeah, Hank. He's over there in the jock section,” Donny said pointing a big-muscled brunette with a few day's worth of stubble on his chin. “You probably remember him from art class, it's the one class we have together since he's not taking anything advanced.”
Barry watched the wrestling jocks for a moment before he realized that Snart wasn't seated with the rest of the team. In fact, as Barry glanced around the cafeteria, he didn't see him anywhere in the room. His glance momentarily passed over the soccer table again and he met the eyes of the boy in purple. Their eyes locked briefly and Barry was treated to another wide smile before quickly looking away.
Donny and Barry chatted most of the lunch period and learned that their schedules were almost identical. After lunch, they headed to World History with Sue, then to Calculus where they met Natasha and Mal again, before heading to the gym for their last class of the day.
Unlike his old school, the boys had gym class separate from the girls – not that Iris was here to support and encourage him, anyway. It was odd, but just another reminder he wasn't in Kansas anymore, literally. After quickly changing into his red and white uniform, Barry followed Donny into the gym which was divided into various sections with each dedicated to a specific gymnastic exercise. The huge and intimidating Mr. Holt stood in the center with his arms folded across his chest waiting for the class to gather.
“Quiet down, gentlemen!” Mr. Holt's voice boomed, echoing off the walls and sounding more powerful than it should have normally. The class immediately silenced and focused on him. “I'm going to break you into groups of four and assign you a section. After thirty minutes, I will blow my whistle and you will rotate to the next station. Line up!”
There was a rush of boys scrambling to get in line and stay grouped together with as many of their friends as possible. Mr. Holt started at one end of the line and began counting: “1-2-3-4, Station One. 1-2-3-4, Station Two.” It continued like this until everyone had been broken into teams except for Barry, Donny, and a chubby boy named Winslow who were the last three in line. As they were about to head to Station Ten, the locker room doors swung open and one last student joined them.
“Sorry I'm late, Coach, I had to talk to Mrs. Hooper after class.” It was the boy from the cafeteria in the purple shirt.
Mr. Holt grunted. “You're on Station Ten with these three.”
The boy looked in their direction and smiled when he saw Barry. He jogged over to join the others at the balance beam. “Hey guys,” he said, still smiling.
“Hey, Miguel,” Donny and Winslow said in unison.
He turned to Barry, still smiling, and extended his hand. “I don't think we've been properly introduced. Miguel Barragan.”
“Barry Allen,” he said, taking his hand. But instead of a handshake, Miguel quickly pulled him into a bro-hug.
Donny laughed at the look of shock on Barry's face. “You'll have to excuse Miguel, he's a bit affectionate. But we let it slide since he's the star of the soccer team.”
“Just like his dad...” Winslow said dryly, rolling his eyes.
“Wait... Barragan, as in Jose Barragan from the Central City Comets!?!” Barry nearly shouted.
“The same,” Miguel said, his smile fading slightly. “Thanks for reminding everyone, Winslow.”
“You boys better stop clucking like hens at a church social and start walking across that beam unless you're happy to get an 'F' this semester,” Mr. Holt said, surprising all four of them.
Donny, it turned out, was a natural gymnast and showed the others different exercises. Winslow barely made an effort to walk across it once, but Barry and Miguel attempted a few of the tricks they saw Donny demonstrate. Twenty-five minutes later, the whistle sounded and they rotated to Station One which was sit-ups and push-ups.
Miguel slapped Barry on the back. “Come on, Barry. I'll hold your ankles if you hold mine.”
“Uh, sure, Miguel.”
Barry lay on his back, raised his knees up, and spread his legs slightly. Miguel knelt at his feet and grabbed his ankles tightly. He was still smiling at him, like a kid on Christmas eyeing up the presents under the tree. Barry could feel a blush rising in his cheeks and started to do his sit-ups in an effort to hide it.
Miguel counted-off in Spanish until the mid-thirties when Barry started to tire and Miguel began pushing him to do more. “Good, Barry, just a few more. Come on, amigo, just ten more and you'll be at fifty! Almost there... cinco... quatro... tres... dos... uno! Good job, Barry!”
Barry collapsed back, breathing heavily. He closed his eyes and realized that Miguel was still holding his ankles, despite being finished. And if he wasn't mistaken, he could also feel a thumb gently rubbing the fine, blonde hairs on his leg just above the hem of his sock.
“Your turn,” Barry said, quickly jerking away, pretending he hadn't noticed.
Miguel dropped onto his back and into the familiar position. Barry knelt between his legs noticing not only how much stronger they were than his own, but how much hairier they were, as well. Barry grabbed his ankles touching the warm, bare skin because of the low-cut socks hidden inside Miguel's shoes.
“Can you move your hands up a little higher?” Miguel asked. “Yeah, right there. And you're going to have to hold me a lot tighter than you are now, trust me.”
Miguel started and, like a true athlete, outshone Barry's pathetic attempt by easily doubling it. As Barry counted – in English – he could feel the solid muscles flexing under his grip. Around sit-up number sixty-two, Barry noticed the other boy's t-shirt had lifted slightly exposing a strip of golden skin around his navel which had a trail of dark hairs leading into his shorts. As he followed the trail with his eyes, he realized that Miguel's baggy shorts had slid up his thigh revealing the leg of his compression shorts underneath. Barry's brain was counting on autopilot as he watched the thigh flex and release under the tight, black spandex.
The movement suddenly stopped and Barry realized that Miguel was laying back. He quickly released his grip on the other boy's ankles and wiped his sweaty hands on his shirt. “Uh, 125, good job, Miguel,” Barry finally stuttered.
The whistle blew bringing Barry fully back to reality. Mr. Holt made a brief announcement and dismissed the class to shower and change before the final bell. Most of the boys raced to the locker room, a few moved a bit slower obviously exhausted.
“Time to go, amigo,” Miguel said, rolling forward and standing in a single, quick movement. He held out a hand to help Barry off the floor.
Like most schools, the last few minutes of the day were always a bit helter-skelter. Everyone was excited to leave and head home for the day. Combine that energy with the rush of adrenaline from an hour of working out plus the rage of teen hormones, and the locker room was in complete chaos. Guys were in groups loudly talking over both each other and the din of the shower. Half-naked guys were throwing sweaty clothes at their friends as a stream of wet, towel-clad boys ran from the showers to their lockers. And this was the scene Barry, Donny, and Miguel walked into.
“Hey, Miguel!” one of his buddies shouted, tossing a soccer ball to his friend.
Miguel spun – a bit too quickly – trying to catch the ball, but his feet slid out from under him on the wet floor. As Barry realized what was happening, everything suddenly seemed to start moving in slow motion. Everything except for him.
He saw Miguel falling backward and the ball – now missing it's intended target – was headed for Donny's face. Taking a few steps forward, Barry grabbed Miguel around the chest with one arm to steady him and reached out the other to grab the soccer ball. As soon as he was in position, time seemed to revert to it's normal speed.
Miguel fell against Barry and into his grasp rather than onto the concrete floor and the soccer ball stopped in his hand, even as Donny raised his arms to protect his face from the impact.
“Dude, great moves!” someone yelled.
“Check out those reflexes. We need him on the team!” someone else screamed.
“What's that guy's name?” he heard a few people whisper.
Several students clapped and whistled.
Barry nervously smiled in response. He could still feel Miguel's weight pressed against him and his rapid heartbeat thumping against the arm Barry had thrown across his chest. He was sure that Miguel could feel his own heart thundering like a locomotive against his back. The two eventually pulled apart and Barry handed the ball to Miguel before zipping over to his locker to change.
“What just happened?” Barry asked himself. Maybe it was a side effect of the coma. The bell rang just as Barry finished tying his sneakers. He grabbed his bag, locked his locker, and ran for the door.