Chapter Text
Adam was running late. Again. Mentally chastising himself as he flew down the front wooden steps of his double-wide, he grabbed his bike off the dusty ground and mounted it in one swift motion. He would have to make a 30-minute bike ride in 20 minutes. Just great.
It’s only the first week of school, he thought as he raced down the dirt path to the street that looked as if it were a dead- end. You can’t be late this many times within 5 freaking days. He pedaled harder, thinking about the embarrassing day of school- the second day, no less- where he came into first period 15 minutes late, covered in sweat and dirt, his tie askew and his hair a living nightmare from the wind. He grimaced as he remembered the boy with the shaven head and a smile that could make children cry smirk as Adam sat in front of him. He remembered the boy whispering to him, “Nice look, fucker. Did you bike all the way from Hicksville, America?” He remembered stiffening, not sure whether this boy was picking a fight or just being an asshole. It was Aglionby, after all; he learned to always expect the latter.
Adam thought about this as the desolate farmlands of Henrietta blurred past him and morphed into the wealthy side; office buildings, car shops, and supermarkets streamed past him as he pedaled. After a rigorous 17-minute ride consisting of sweat, dirt, and maybe some tears, Adam rounded the street that led to the entrance of Aglionby, with homeroom just beginning. He thought he was making good time; the teachers only check for attendance at the end of homeroom, and homeroom lasted 10 minutes. Adam began to breathe a little bit easier and relaxed his posture on his bike from a Tour de France hunch to a paperboy slouch. He took one hand off the handlebars to fix his hastily done tie, and while doing so, almost died.
There was suddenly a great hiss in the road somewhere behind him like that of a giant balloon releasing air slowly. Then there came the awkward flopping of a flat tire slapping the asphalt, getting nearer and nearer. Adam glanced over his shoulder and quickly took a sharp right onto the grassy roadside as the most pathetic looking car Adam has ever seen screeched past him, the driver struggling to keep the car from spinning off-road. Adam, putting on the brakes and dismounting his bike, watched with a mixture of annoyance and pity as the car eventually rolled to an unsteady halt. The car- a gaudy orange Camaro that looked older than Adam’s parents- came to a stop about a hundred yards ahead of Adam on the tight shoulder of the road. A figure got out of the driver’s side and slammed the door shut in frustration, stalking over to the front right tire to gawk at the damage helplessly.
Adam glared at the driver, expecting an old man trying to get his kicks while he can, but all of his anger was soon replaced by surprise. It was his classmate…Dixon, was it…? Or was it Devon…? Adam couldn’t remember too well; but he did know that this boy and the shaven head menace were friends, and both the stars of first period English. All the more reason to be wary of this rich-kid.
Yet, for some reason, Adam found himself wheeling his bike over to his classmate and inspecting the damage from a small distance. This boy was so focused on his mangled tire that he didn’t notice Adam’s presence until he had to awkwardly clear his throat. Then the boy started, glanced up, and his worried face smoothed out into the cockiest and most antagonizingly calm expression Adam has ever seen. His classmate stood up and Adam- bitterly taking notice of his perfectly combed dark brown hair and his perfectly crisp uniform- pointed to the tire, “Do you have a spare?”
The rich boy looked confused for a second, then smiled a perfect toothpaste commercial grin and stuck out his hand to Adam.
“Adam, is it? I have a spare in the trunk, actually, if you want to laugh condescendingly at the likes of me attempting to change a tire.”
Adam found himself turning a furious shade of red, but he wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment or anger. Boys like this one take everything they get for granted, and speak without thinking. Coming from their sort of background, they could probably just take another car out of their garage when something was wrong with their current one. They carelessly paid people like him to fix their pricey junk for them without a care in the world about how it’s actually done. Adam’s bike, covered in rust and dirt, suddenly became his enemy and he wanted to toss it onto the side of the road.
Instead of doing that, he simply shook the boy’s hand back- oh my god, that was a powerful grip- and mumbled, trying his best to kill the stupid southern accent, “I could change the tire for you, if you want me to.”
It was such a small thing to do- Adam learned how to change tires before he learned long division- he could have done it in 10 minutes, but this boy didn’t seem to know that. He acted like he was given a million dollars- although, what’s that to them? - and beamed at Adam with gratitude. Even though Adam decidedly disliked this boy, he couldn’t help but feel important- if just for a second, and then the obnoxious resting-smirk returned to the boy’s face. Adam mentally reprimanded himself, What were you expecting? It’s not like everything else in this kid’s life isn’t going perfectly… why did you offer to help him? Let him be late and just go- your bike is there just-
“You can change that? Oh wow, can you please? I’m really sorry if this makes you late but if we’re late to first period together maybe Mr. Brunson will go easy on us…” Adam started out of his dark thoughts enough so that he understood the irony behind those words. It didn’t matter who this boy was with; in less than a week of knowing him, Adam could tell that this boy was of the species that could get away with anything- he could easily miss the entire day and still be marked present.
Nonetheless, Adam nodded, went to the trunk of the hideous car, got the tire out and quickly changed it in front of the awestruck boy, who watched so carefully, Adam felt as if he were being tested. Within 15 minutes, the new tire was on, the old tire was replaced in the trunk and the boy was shaking Adam’s hand rigorously, thanking him over and over again.
“My name is Gansey, by the way, if you didn’t already know,” he said as he ducked down into the car. Gansey? What kind of rich kid name was that? “You getting in?”
Adam just stood there for a second, half- amused over the appropriate name this boy was given, half-not realizing what it was Gansey had asked him. Suddenly, he realized that Gansey was offering to drive him the rest of the way to school, even though it was less than a mile down the street. The thought was nice, in theory, but Adam vowed to never receive help from the likes of these boys. He gestured pathetically to his rusty bike and shook his head.
“With the tire and my bike, there will be no room. It’s fine though, the school’s only a little way away.” He blurted this out without thinking, and was pleased that he actually made a valid point. He even pushed it a little bit more by shrugging apologetically to Gansey and grabbing his bike from off the grass.
Gansey didn’t seem to notice Adam’s general air of not wanting to go, and completely misinterpreted everything he just said. Rather than considering letting Adam just bike to Aglionby, Gansey seemed to take it as Adam needed room for his bike. The boy unceremoniously got out of the driver’s seat, walked to the trunk, took out the tire, and tossed it onto the side of the road. Adam just stared at this tire, as it came to a slow stop in the grass, then at Gansey, realizing how so unlike his peers he was. Every other Aglionby boy would’ve left Adam in the dust in their expensive sport cars. But Gansey merely took the bike out of Adam’s chapped hands, set it in the trunk and adjusted it with ease so that it fit perfectly, then opened the passenger side door for Adam, who just stood, dumbstruck.
“C’mon, Adam, get in! I’ll just tell Mr. Brunson that you fixed my car for me when we return; he shouldn’t be too annoyed, but it would be best if we at least arrived together to make this story more believable.”
In a daze, Adam said the first thing that came to mind- which was always a bad idea when it came to him. With the tire still on his mind, he blurted out, “You just re-affirmed that all rich people hate the Earth."
Gansey paused and glanced over at Adam with an odd expression on his face. Adam became scared that he said the wrong thing, feeling the need to keep Gansey on good terms, and reprimanding himself for thinking so. Then, before Adam could worry too much about it, Gansey’s face relaxed into a great grin and he started to laugh- which of course was a melodic sound that captured Adam’s attention against his will. Gansey wiped his eyes of his non-existent tears, and slapped Adam on the shoulder good-naturedly, pushing Adam toward the orange death trap in front of him. Giving into peer pressure, Adam got into the piece of crap car, and Gansey ran around to the driver’s side and got in, seeming excited. The car coughed itself back to life and headed for the school, with Gansey talking nonstop at Adam about nothing and everything all the way.
First period was over by the time they arrived.