Post by sleepingprince on Jan 22, 2012 14:36:01 GMT -5
Well, this couldn’t be good. There was no way, in any realm of reasoning what so ever, that this could turn out remotely well. Obviously, Mr. Andrews harbored some sort of vendetta against him, because honestly, why the hell else would he be partnered with that kid, out of all of them? Now, maybe Adam didn’t have anything against whatshisface the sophomore as a person, he just...well, they wouldn’t get along. He knew for a fact they wouldn’t. Knew it with the same bone-crushing clarity that he knew two plus two equaled four. They simply would not get along, he and Alex or whatever the hell his name was, and they were never going to. All one had to do was look at both of them to know that.
And then there was the fact that Adam had absolutely no idea what he was doing. Science was not his forte. At all. He was lucky to scrape by with C’s, to be honest, and that was still him working his ass off. Not that he was going to let this kid—this little runt of pot-smoking sophomore—know that. Today, Adam was going to be a Chemistry master. How would his partner eve know he was lying? Nobody actually knew the difference between ions and ionizers, so fooling him would be all too easy. He would walk away from this class period proud to have become a scientist for fifty minutes.
As it was, Adam was currently slumped at the lab table, cheek resting in his palm as he waited like a man sentenced for his partner to make his way over. He could do this, though. Easy. The kid was a year younger, after all, and probably so doped out he didn’t know right from left. Chances were he’d been attending the wrong class for the last week and was meant to be taking biology or something. Yeah, that had to be it. No way in hell was this Alexander Sykes smarter than he, Adam Holst. Not that he was completive at all about school. That was ridiculous.
Straightening up at the sight of the boy who was to, in all likelihood share in his misery, Adam made sure to give him the most appraising glare he could. He was a master, no doubt; had to be, being on the older end of the team, now. Everyone younger—and unknown—was looked upon with the same amount of disdain. It wasn’t personal. Usually. Anyway, he really didn’t have anything against this kid, other than that he’d probably cost him a grade.
“You’re Alex, right?” he was casual as the boy approached, nodding because he knew he was right, and utterly noncommittal in tone. Just one class period, and he wouldn’t have to deal with him ever again.
“So… “ he turned back to the beakers and small container of diluted hydrochloric acid, handing his partner a pair of goggles. “You know what we’re supposed to do, right?”
And then there was the fact that Adam had absolutely no idea what he was doing. Science was not his forte. At all. He was lucky to scrape by with C’s, to be honest, and that was still him working his ass off. Not that he was going to let this kid—this little runt of pot-smoking sophomore—know that. Today, Adam was going to be a Chemistry master. How would his partner eve know he was lying? Nobody actually knew the difference between ions and ionizers, so fooling him would be all too easy. He would walk away from this class period proud to have become a scientist for fifty minutes.
As it was, Adam was currently slumped at the lab table, cheek resting in his palm as he waited like a man sentenced for his partner to make his way over. He could do this, though. Easy. The kid was a year younger, after all, and probably so doped out he didn’t know right from left. Chances were he’d been attending the wrong class for the last week and was meant to be taking biology or something. Yeah, that had to be it. No way in hell was this Alexander Sykes smarter than he, Adam Holst. Not that he was completive at all about school. That was ridiculous.
Straightening up at the sight of the boy who was to, in all likelihood share in his misery, Adam made sure to give him the most appraising glare he could. He was a master, no doubt; had to be, being on the older end of the team, now. Everyone younger—and unknown—was looked upon with the same amount of disdain. It wasn’t personal. Usually. Anyway, he really didn’t have anything against this kid, other than that he’d probably cost him a grade.
“You’re Alex, right?” he was casual as the boy approached, nodding because he knew he was right, and utterly noncommittal in tone. Just one class period, and he wouldn’t have to deal with him ever again.
“So… “ he turned back to the beakers and small container of diluted hydrochloric acid, handing his partner a pair of goggles. “You know what we’re supposed to do, right?”
