Communication Is Key

In which Alex immediately creates rivalries, and realises his place

"Are you serious?!"

"Yes. Dead serious."

"How do you know?"

"It happened, before our very eyes."

"Hospitalised?"

"No. She's stable and very much alive."

"Phew..."

I met up with Hercules shortly after the incident had occurred, and informed him at once. His reaction was all too obvious but was quelled once I lightened the mood.

"What's next?"

He chuckled, "Music."

"What do you play?"

He chuckled again, this time, heartily, "The triangle. I'm an expert at it!"

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Is it hard?"

"No. But you have to time it perfectly, and understand how to crescendo and decrescendo and all that jazz..."

"Fun." I rolled my eyes.

"Don't question it. I got into this school because I play the triangle."

"You sure about that?"

"Yeah! No kidding!" He pulled out the instrument from his pocket, along with a small metal rod.

"What's with everyone and their obsession with pocket storage?" I internally mused.

"And you play it like so!" He tapped the triangle lightly with the rod, a gentle "Ding!" was produced. "And then you have to stop it!" He pinched the triangle with his fingers.

"Ok..."

"I gotta go! I'm gonna miss my solo!" He hurriedly waved back to me, dashing over to a brick-laden building in the distance. My timetable was blocked with a blue and purple square, one which read, "English" and the other, "Mathematics". I searched for a sign, anything that I could get aid from, but, there was nothing. I was rather shocked to find this out, considering the high calibre of the school. Whilst I searched, I found a short student, gathering his books from the locker room. His hair was dirty black and his eyes a pale brown.

"Hey, do you know where the Hemmingway building is?"

He looked up at me, eyes wide, "Straight down the hall and to the left." He pointed with his small fingers. "I actually need to go there as well. English?" he asked.

"Yeah. I'm Alex."

"James." He nodded back to me. By the looks of things, he was a passive fellow, not exactly the type of person I'd mix with well. I followed him nonetheless. We didn't walk and talk as I expected, but rather looked and listened.

"Passive, indeed." I wandered off.

"We're here." He abruptly spoke.

"Right." I responded, turning to face him, "How come you don't talk? You too chicken?"

"Excuse me? I do talk, just not a lot. I'm shy." He raised his eyebrows.

"That's pretty clear." I scoffed, striding through the classroom just as I always do. James followed me, clutching his books to his chest.

"Sit down." The teacher firmly instructed, sitting at his desk. The teacher was tall and had curled light grey hair.

I took a seat next to a bald kid, who was furiously annotating in his workbook.

"Siddown!" He instructed James in a much fiercer tone. James smiled back at him but was rebuked with a twisted frown.

"Back to the lesson. What devices are being used here?"

The bald kid shot his hand up. "The use of the words, "In fair Verona," an epithet, which is also a microcosm."

"Good, Aaron."

My brain jumped. "I'm sitting next to Aaron Burr! I better interrogate him." I rubbed my hands together. "So, Aaron, what was Latin like this morning?"

"How do you know?" he questioned, "And who are you?"

"I'm Alex. But it's also none of your beeswax on how I found out. Except for the fact that it was hilarious!"

"Excuse me?!" he remarked, "It's not hilarious..." He trailed off.

"I know..." I paused.

"Good." He grabbed a light blue highlighter and marked a chunk of text, switching to a blue pen and writing, 'Puns, wordplay and repetition.'

"It was priceless!" I broke into uproarious laughter.

Aaron facepalmed himself, probably to cover a sense of rising shame and embarrassment. I began stifling my laughter, as the class gave me a collective glare.

"Mr Hamilton." The teacher paused, "Are you even paying attention?"

"Yes, I am Mr..."

"Rutherford. If you were, then what did I just say?"

"You were asking us about devices in Romeo and Juliet," I responded, unfazed.

"That was a good fifteen minutes ago, Hamilton. At this rate, you'll be plunged into Learning Support!" he exclaimed.

I checked my battered watch, which was speckled with dirt, "Fourteen minutes ago, sir, but do continue." I smiled.

"Dean's office. Now." He sighed, pointing a bony finger at me, then to the door.

"What have I done? I have a right to learn. All students in this school do, even the worst of their kind." I glanced around the room for Jefferson but was greeted with a piercing absence.

"Balderdash! You greedy, little, insufferable know it alls! Dean's office, now!" He sprang up from his chair, creases appearing all over his face.

"But--"

"Now! Or I'll throw you up there!" I watched Mr Rutherford as a crooked grin crossed his wrinkled face.

"Fine..." I reluctantly trudged over to the door, and gave Rutherford one last glare, as if to say, "Don't mess with me!" He stormed down the hall and grabbed me by what I thought was going to be my shirt collar. Instead, it was my tie.

"Let. Me. Go." I didn't want to cause anything more than I had to, but ostensibly, it wasn't enough.

He twirled my tie in his hands and pulled it tighter. I felt droplets of sweat trickle down my forehead. "Let me go!" I repeated, with a sudden twinge of urgency. Rutherford continued to maintain his grip.

"Think, Alex, think!" My brain screamed, "What the hell are you doing?" My thoughts froze, but my nimble fingers quickly untied my tie. I smirked, snatching the tie from his grasp and dashing straight up the thousands of ascending steps.

"Hello, Washington!" I burst through the door.

"Have they ever taught you orphans to knock?" He spoke, facing away from me and out to the spacious surroundings portrayed through the spotless window.

"Yes, they have. Well, I taught myself. But, that's not the point. I have some business to take care of."

"And what may that be?" He turned around in his chair, slouching.

"Mr Rutherford sent me here. On an errand, called, 'Go to the Dean's office. Now!'" I mimicked the harsh teacher. "And I also need a laptop."

"Ha!" he smirked, "Head down to H6 and sort that one out, bud."

"What's so bad about that?"

"Rutherford's there."

"I'm sure IT will welcome me with open arms, whether Rutherford gets his grubby little hands on me or not."

"You'll have a great time introducing yourself!" Washington muttered sarcastically.

"Yeah, right." I scoffed. "You aren't going to help me, are you?"

"I have a very strict schedule, Hamilton, but I have a stash of laptops here, just in case I have to provide aid for the new students, transfers, immigrants and orphans alike." He dusted the top of the laptop clean before handing it to me. I snatched it from his grasp.

"Don't go shaming me!" I stared long and hard into his cold, dark blue eyes, and was met with a childish smirk. I stomped a foot hard on the ground. "I'm new here, obviously, but there's a million things I haven't done, Washington! Just you wait!" I strolled out without turning back to face him.

"You don't have any information on your laptop!" I heard him cry.

"Who cares?" I thought as I travelled down the bothersome stairs, "And why would Washington, the teacher I despised the most, (partly because he despised me back) have consideration for me now, out of all times? No matter. I'll have to grab that from IT."

I raced past H6, avoiding all the commotion I could hear from inside. Jefferson's and Rutherford's booming voices, along with a small peep from Aaron every now and then in an attempt to negotiate peace, being an extended essay-like answer to distract the class. After his ongoing lectures ceased, collective groans echoed the room.

"Glad I'm not in there." I thought, placing my laptop on the desk and leaning back against it. It was spotless, except for the occasional computer accessory here and there. A young female face stared back at me, a pair of black-rimmed glasses resting on her head.

"I'm sorry, we don't service laptops on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday or Friday," she playfully smirked. "Come back later."

"Surely you would help a customer in need? It's your job, right?" I inquired.

"Psh!" she scoffed, "It isn't your responsibility to question the likes of a professional, Hamilton."

"How do you know my name?!" I half-shouted. Another abrupt impulse.

"The rumours of your arrival spread like wildfire." She grasped my laptop, flicking the lid open, "Dunno why, dunno how. You must be some kind of child prodigy. What were you after?"

"R-Right." I started with a stammer. The thought that an orphan from the Caribbean, being known as a child prodigy, even before setting foot on college grounds! Well, it was doing my head in, much more than I would've liked. "I just need it set up. I would have done so myself if I obtained the login details..."

"It's done." She quietly interrupted, "Should all be working, but if not, just give us a holler. Login details here." She turned it around and pointed to a neatly written sticky note. "Only share them with those you trust, otherwise you have a recipe for disaster. Take that from me and my experiences. Good day to you." She smiled, before strolling to the back of the space, plonking herself in front of a screen and sighing.

I grabbed my computer as my eyes flicked down to my watch, continuing with its never-ending cycle. I was better off hiding from my classmates and letting time pass by. It was only a minute, after all.

Tick-tock, tick-tock... My watch quietly clicked with every passing second. Tick tock, tick-tock... I viewed Aaron gathering his belongings. My adrenaline rushed and my thoughts raced. Tick-tock, tick-tock...

"Why won't time move any faster! I haven't got all day!" I tapped my watch as if to spur time on.

Tick-tock, tick-tock... Bring! It reverberated, louder than I'd ever heard it before. Perhaps it was a hopeful sign. Or, a sign that I was going crazy, having heard that chime for only the third time today. The usual hustle that came after such a signal flooded the hallways. I joined onto the end of the sea of students, the last to leave being none other than Aaron Burr. He gave me a half-smile, to which I chuckled.

"Why so silent?" I questioned.

"Why so nosy?" he retorted, "Can't you ever leave a man to their thoughts?"

"Well, that is a bold stateme--"

"That wasn't your queue to answer. Right..." He dismissed the topic and flicked open his timetable. "C4..."

"Me too. Do me a favour and guide me, Aaron!" I clapped a hand to his back, a little too hard for his liking. "What do all these letters stand for anyway?"

"It stands for some of the past notable figures of the college. I won't go into detail, but the C building stands for Caroline, the first name of some special individual. Just like H stands for Hemmingway." He sighed, "Just don't go annoying the entire class, ok? You've already made a bad first impression as it is."

"Ahem." I cleared my throat. "That is incorrect, I'm afraid. I'm a child prodigy!" I let out a giddy squeal.

"Says who? Your arrogant self?"

"Ha! I wish! It was the IT lady."

"I don't think that's a reliable source."

"It is! I'm the biggest source of fame and fortune that there is in this place!"

"You are not! To the teachers, maybe. To the students, most definitely not. To change topics, we are here. You're gonna need to learn the directions to the classrooms on your own, y'know. I'm not your chauffeur!" he light-heartedly chuckled.

"I get it. You think that I'm smarter than you, and you'd rather not travel around college with me!"

"No! Being honest, it's annoying. Travelling around with you isn't smooth sailing. It never was." He pushed open a bright blue door, the room dotted with hexagonal shaped desks. A wiry old lady stood at the front, writing the date in the top left-hand corner of the whiteboard. My attention-seeking self sat in the middle row, Burr hesitantly nudging his books next to me.

"What's she like?" I pointed a pencil in her direction.

"That's Ms Rosenthall. She's awesome," he whispered. "Just talk less. Smile more."

"What?" I stared at him, bemused.

"Don't let them know what you're against or what you're for..."

"What language are you speaking? Burr-mese?" Jefferson waltzed in, both to my annoyance and anticipation. I stifled a giggle. "See? Hamilton gets it!" He made a surprising choice, in sitting next to me, holding out his hand for a high five. I smacked his hard too hard for his liking, and he did the same. The true high five of rivals. Or frenemies. You could even say overachieving friends.

"I guess the plot thickens..." My mind ticked. "So, how's life, Jefferson?" I questioned.

"Not bad. Good. Great. Awesome. It's ever-changing, and I've still got at least eighty years to go..." He leaned back in his chair.

"Actually," Burr piped up, "With your height, age and attitude, you'll most likely end up as a drug-addicted crook."

"Excuse me?!" He jumped forward, almost out of his seat.

"Yeah. Facts don't lie."

The teacher silently ambled over, leaving several worksheets on our desks and a message on the board. It read,

From now on, complete work in silence. When you are done, sit in silence. Even if you have a question, sit in silence. If you think you hear a sound, don't question yourself. It's the sound of silence.

What kind of teacher is this?! I furiously wrote on my paper, then nudging Burr's shoulder. He responded simply, An awesome one. I furrowed my brow. I could work if surrounded by silence. Burr most definitely could and would whenever the opportunity arose. Jefferson was struggling. It was obvious he knew the formulas, but the silence drove him insane. Some people would prefer the sound of other people's voices over theirs. Jefferson was the person that rarely abided by conventional rules like this, but would take anything he could find for just the slightest slither of noise.

Having previously written some notes as a curious teenager on the use of Morse code, I thought to apply these techniques into the modern world. Morse code was the ideal method of secretive communication, and luckily for me, it can be used in a variety of situations. In this case, to save Jefferson from anxiety. I was never quite the detective, but if I was ever tasked to lead or assist in such a thrilling experience, I'd be the observer. The one that always spots the hidden intricacies behind random objects. If Jefferson wants to talk, he can talk. In the form of tapping pencils, of course.

My plan soon came into fruition, as I showed Jefferson my notepad, pencils at the ready. Burr occasionally glanced over in disgust. We both let him be, since we knew that he wasn't interested.

"More like he wasn't smart enough." I thought.

Jefferson instantly tapped away. Dash. Dot, dot, dot, dot. Dot, dash. Dash, dot. Dash, dot, dash. Silence. A new word. Dash, dot, dash, dash. Dash, dash, dash. Dot, dot, dash. In short, "Thank you." I shot back, "You're welcome, frenemy." at lightning speed. It took him only a minute to compute.

"Let's play a game!" Jefferson hurriedly smacked, after at least a draining half an hour had passed. I could tell the lesson was coming to a close.

"Sure..." I hesitantly replied, "What is it?"

"It's called Pointers. We point out things about the other person, good or bad. Got it?"

"Yup."

"I'll go first. Good points. You're smart. You're skilled. You're resourceful. Bad points. You're short. You're annoying. You're a know-it-all."

"But you said it was good that I'm smart!"

"I'm not finished! You've got loose lips, you're pretty ugly, no offence. And last but not least, you're a dirty orphan. You don't deserve such a high education. You don't deserve anything!" All of this was communicated with a furiously banging pencil. A flowing chime rang through my ears, and with perfect timing too. Time for revenge. In spoken form.

"Siddown Thomas, you fat mother---"