Chapter Text
Arthur looked down at his paper, which at the time looked like a poorly alien-written transcript of what was supposed to be pre-calculus. Arthur thought that completing the measly piece of paper was like finding the answer to life, the universe, and everything. (Which he would find out eventually, just 15 years later on the outskirts of space.) He continued to debate whether getting a detention for throwing his work at his teacher might actually be worth it if it meant that he got to see the hilarious face Ms. Elien would always make whenever she was pissed off. It was right then, and right there, that Arthur remembered that today wasn’t just any ordinary day. No. It was a Thursday. God, how he hated Thursdays. They were always strangely peculiar, because strangely peculiar things would always happen, and there was nothing Arthur Dent could do to stop it. Of course, this Thursday didn't prove otherwise, because suddenly there was a huge “Bang!” on the classroom door. Ms. Elien walked towards the wooden door, her heels making a constant clicking sound whenever she took even the tiniest step.
Click, click, click.
She then proceeded to open the door, which revealed a small, wimpy kid with his ginger hair brushed back. He wore an oddly colorful sweater vest that perfectly matched his oddly colorful striped suit. He stood there, adjusting his slightly crooked yellow tie. He was so formally informal that Arthur couldn’t comprehend it, not one bit. Ms. Elien cleared her voice and began to make an announcement to the class.
“Hello class! I’m so sorry to interrupt, but as you see, we have a new student!” Ms. Elien cheerfully exclaimed, with a faux smile. “Everyone, please say hi to… Ford… Ford…” Ms. Elien hesitated and glanced at the attendance sheet. “Ford Perfect!”
No one clapped or cheered. Ford just stood there staring into the abyss until he finally came to the realization that Ms. Elien mispronounced his name.
“Uh…it’s Ford Prefect.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“But that’s what I said.”
“No, you said Perfect, not Prefect.”
“Well, whatever.”
Ms. Elien cleared her throat once again and began to speak.
“Anyways– would you like to tell us a little bit about yourself, Ford?”
“I’m from Betelgeuse… Well, not exactly, but I live in the vicinity.”
“Oh, so you're not from London?”
“What's a ‘London’?”
The entire class erupted in an outrageous symphony of laughter as the pinkish hue in Ford’s cheeks got brighter. Ms. Elien was struggling to conceal her giggles as she tried to defend Ford.
“Ahem– This is a positive learning environment and– blah, blah, blah, blah, blah,” That was all Arthur Dent could hear. He couldn't care less about the new kid. He couldn't care less about his classwork, and he certainly couldn't care less about the comically oversized book with the words, “Don’t Panic!” written in bold, right next to his desk. Because of this, Arthur cocked his head to the side, and of course… Ford Prefect was sitting right next to him, with a friendly hand extended towards Arthur, and a manic smile that made Ford look like a total serial killer.
“Hi, my name is Ford! And yours is…” Ford greeted him as he patiently waited for a reply.
Silence.
“My name is Arthur. Arthur Dent,” Arthur said as he shook Ford’s hand.
“What a douche." Arthur thought to himself. But somehow, someway, there was an odd connection between Arthur and Ford. Even Arthur himself felt this connection, although he tried to deny it. Arthur’s eyes keep on fixating on the vivid, yellow book. After what seemed like forever, Arthur finally mustered enough courage to ask Ford about it.
“Hey… uh… what is that?” Arthur asked as he pointed his finger towards the book
“What is what?!” Ford exclaimed as he frantically shoved the mysterious book into his desk.
“Y’know… you’re so special, I don’t think you should even be in this class, you belong with the other special kids.” Arthur sarcastically remarked with a smirk on his face.
“Really! Well, gee, thanks.” Ford sincerely replied. He didn’t know that Arthur was being sarcastic; after all, they didn’t have sarcasm in Betelgeuse. He gave Arthur a quick pat-on-the-back and sat right down again.
Ford was about to pick up a pencil and actually do his work, instead of just staring at it, when Ford suddenly beamed up and asked a question.
“How’s life on Earth?”
“...What?”
“I mean, how does it feel to live on Earth?”
“Well, shouldn’t you know?”
“Yeah… but… uh—” Ford was interrupted by the roar of the school bell.