Fic: City of London, Part 1.
Jul. 9th, 2004 02:52 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seethingheathenTitle: City of London
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
limeysugar, with quick-beta by dirtysidekick.
Pairing: Orlando Bloom/Elijah Wood
Rating: PG-13 for language and innuendo.
Disclaimer: Not true. Fiction.
Author's Notes I: SQUICK ALERT! In the UK, the age of consent is 16. This story takes place in the last year of school for the boys (who in the series are the same age.), which makes them 17, almost 18. I am well aware that some people will not read anything wherein the characters are under the age of 18, hence the warning. There will be no descriptive sex, just angst, innuendo, and salty language. If this bothers you, don't read it. Simple as that.
Author's Notes II: Heavily inspired by the recent AU school fics bymarrymemerry and deleerium, and by the film Get Real. If you haven't seen it, do.
**
“I feel like a fucking retard,” Elijah said to his reflection. He adjusted his tie again and buttoned up his jacket. “I look like I’m going to a goddamned funeral.” After checking his hair a final time in the mirror, Elijah picked up his carry-all and his Tube map and headed out the door.
In the margins of the map, Elijah’d scrawled the directions to the City of London School. He’d practised walking the route a few times over the weekend, but he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t get lost. This city was strange to him still, and he was still confused by the seemingly haphazard way it was laid out. Los Angeles was a sprawling, busy city, but to Elijah, London proper seemed the work of a drunken civil engineer.
In the nearly three weeks since his arrival, Elijah’d studied the Tube map diligently. He’d counted and re-counted the number of stops between his host family’s flat and Hyde Park Corner. He’d counted the number to Hampstead Heath, Kensington Gardens, Buckingham Palace, and to all the places he knew existed in London. He’d taken the requisite snapshots and purchased the requisite souvenirs to send to his family in California; now he was through being a tourist and ready to settle into his life as a student in London. He’d earned a year at the City of London School for Boys with excellent marks and a strong work ethic, and he was more than eager for his school year to begin. The uniforms, however, would require a period of adjustment.
**
With veteran skill, Elijah touched his Oystercard to the turnstile reader and pressed through. It had taken him a few tries to get it right, but that was weeks ago. His cheeks flushed pink at the memory of not having realised he needed to touch the card to get out as well as in, and how the policeman on duty had yelled at him. There were no subways in Los Angeles for him to practise on, so Elijah’d never learnt how they were used. In all the films he’d seen set in subways, he couldn’t recall having seen someone pay to get out. But now he could pass through the gates like a seasoned pro, and he felt a small surge of pride at his accomplishment.
Despite his newfound Underground knowledge, Elijah still felt as though he didn’t fit in. He didn’t have quite the look of an English boy; he walked with a different sort of stride, and when he wasn’t in his school clothes, he dressed a bit differently. These were things Elijah’d noticed straight away, within the first few days of his exploration of the city. He practised the laid-back gliding stroll he saw so many of the boys his age use, but he thought it made him look effeminate, so he gave up. The next thing Elijah had set about changing before school started was his voice. It was suddenly coarse-sounding among the refined voices that floated past him on the street and the subway as he went about his daily walks. He wanted to blend in. He wanted to become a part of the place in which he’d be spending the next year of his life, and take something home with him.
**
Clutching his nearly-empty carry-all on one hand, and loosely gripping the cold metal handrail with the other, Elijah glanced about the train car. Sitting on one of the seats with his earphones on was another student. He was wearing a black blazer just like Elijah’s but Elijah couldn’t tell if they attended the same school. He imagined all the schools in London required uniforms of some form or another, and they were probably similar in most ways, with the exception of a few minor details.
Elijah stood and stared at the curly-haired boy for a few moments longer. When the student felt Elijah’s gaze on him and looked up, Elijah immediately looked down at his shoes, blushing fiercely. Had he not been so quick to look away, Elijah would have seen the wide grin the boy’d given him before shaking his head and turning his attention back to his iPod.
With nothing else to do, Elijah fished in his trouser pocket for his map. He treble-checked the stop he was to get out on, certain he’d screw it up if he didn’t. It was one thing being the new kid, another thing being foreign, but something else entirely being thought of as stupid. And if that boy on the train was going to the same place Elijah was, Elijah didn’t want to make a bad impression.
**
When the doors opened at Mansion House, Elijah quickly glanced up looking for the Way Out. It still struck Elijah as funny that in place of EXIT, the British chose WAY OUT. He often found himself pondering the money that could be saved my manufacturing signs with fewer letters, and he was thinking about Hippies when he felt a tap on his left shoulder.
“Hey, mate.” It was the boy from the train. “You walking all on your onesy then?”
“My onesy? You mean alone, right?” The boy nodded. “Yeah.” Elijah started a bit as the boy pushed him out of the way of the moving crowd.
“Let them pass. We’ve got time. From America, yeah?”
Elijah rolled his eyes. “How’d you guess? The accent?”
“Nah, man,” the boy said, looking down. “The shoes. No self-respecting Englishman would be caught dead wearing those.”
Elijah’s gaze fell to his feet. “Dude, they’re the same as yours. School uniform.”
“As I said. Anyway, on to the formal introductions. I’m Orly.”
“Orly? Isn’t that like a city in France?”
“Short for Orlando.” Orlando said. “And if you don’t tell me your name, I’m just going to call you Sherman.”
“Elijah. Don’t call me Sherman.”
“Well, Elijah, what say we catch a bit of brekky before school?”
Elijah looked at his watch. “We’ve got twenty minutes before the first class starts.”
“Fuck! Is that all? We’d better run. Come on!”
Orlando and Elijah took off running out of the subway and down Queen Street. When they finally made it to school, panting and clutching their sides, Orlando breathlessly asked Elijah what class he had before the lunch hour. “Phys Ed,” Elijah gasped, leaning against the rough red brick of the school building.
“Brilliant. Wait for me after, and we’ll get a bit of something.” Orlando adjusted his carry-all and left Elijah to find the Headmaster’s office on his own.
**
Elijah was meant to be given a guide on this first day of school, with whom he was meant to meet in the Headmaster’s office, but so far no one had shown up. He was rather hoping Orlando could be the one to show him around the school. Orlando with the curly hair and slight hint of a moustache. Orly. Elijah sighed and looked at his watch for the fifth time in as many minutes. Just when he thought he’d been forgotten, the office door flew open, and in came someone who definitely was not Orly. Someone with big ears, an odd-looking nose, and quite possibly the most crooked mouth ever to grace a human face.
“I’m Dom,” the student muttered. “And I don’t want to be doing this.”
“Fine,” came Elijah’s answer as he stood up and picked up his bag. He followed Dom out of the office and into a hall.
“I’d show you around, but seeing as though we’re already late, I’ll have to do it after class. Perhaps if you’d gotten here a bit earlier, I’d have had the time to give you the proper tour.” Dom looked back at Elijah. “Did you get off at the right Tube stop?”
“Mansion House.”
“I’d advise Blackfriars in the future. That’s the one most of us use.”
“Blackfriars, then.” Elijah decided he’d ask Orly about it at lunch. So far, he wasn’t impressed with anything about Dom. And Orly’d gotten off at Mansion House anyway.
**
Maths, Elijah and Dom’s first class, had passed rather quickly, and Elijah had hoped Phys Ed would be the same. He could hardly wait to get away from Dom and his put-upon disposition. He was disappointed, however, because the hour and a half seemed to stretch on for days. When he and Dom did emerge from the changing room, Elijah saw Orlando headed for them.
“Jesus Christ,” mumbled Dom, tilting his head back dramatically.
“What?”
“See that bloke coming this way?” Dom gestured at Orlando with his eyes. “I advise you to stay out of his way.”
“Orly?” Elijah was confused. Dom couldn’t possibly be saying that Orly was the school bully. He wasn’t built like a bully, and the way he’d acted with Elijah that morning didn’t gel with the way the typical bully acted.
“The very article. Queer as a six-pound note, that one. And unless you want to be thought of in the same manner, stay away.”
“Holy shit,” Elijah breathed. “You’re kidding.”
“I’m not, but I reckon you’ll find that out in your own time.” Dom visibly tensed as Orlando made his way over to him and Elijah.
“Hey, Sherm. Hey, Dommie.” Orlando batted his eyelashes at Dom.
“Fuck you,” Dom spat, narrowing his eyes.
“Not today, darling. I’ve a lunch date. Tomorrow perhaps? I could schedule something if you’d like.” Dom didn’t say anything this time, he just flashed Orlando the V’s and walked away.
“What the fuck was that?” Elijah looked bewildered.
“Ah, that’s just Dommie. He’s not so bad. Just a shortarsed bastard with a complex.” Orlando pulled his wallet out of his carry-all, and counted a few notes before putting it back in. “Shall we?”
“Uh, yeah. I’m not really hungry, so wherever you want to go, I’ll tag along.”
“Fine. Have you been on the bridge yet?”
“Which one? There’s like a million of the fucking things.”
“The Millennium Bridge. It’s a footbridge across the Thames.” When Elijah nodded, Orlando continued. “I like to eat at the Tate sometimes, and it’s just across the bridge. It’s a nice walk and a spectacular view.”
Elijah followed Orlando out of the school, up the steps, and over the bridge. He’d walked across it by himself many times in the last few weeks, stopping midway to watch the water taxis and Port Authority boats make their ways up and down the river. Once, he’d seen a white football floating on the water, bobbing along with the current, so he’d gone down onto the Thames Walk to take a picture of it. It was poorly centred, and it was difficult to make out the ball with the way the light reflected on the water’s surface, but it was one of Elijah’s favourite photos. He felt sort of sad for the person who’d lost the ball, assuming it was a child, the same way he felt sad when he saw a balloon floating up into the sky.
**
Fifteen minutes later, Elijah and Orlando stood, leaning against the east rail of the bridge. Orlando was merrily munching away on a croissant sandwich, and Elijah was staring out over the river. “What bridge is that?”
“That,” Orly said between mouthfuls of lettuce and cheese, “is the Southwark Bridge. The one beyond it is the London Bridge. London Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down! London Bridge is falling down, my fair lady!” Before Orlando could launch into the next verse, Elijah clamped his hand over his mouth. “Mmm mm m, mm m mmm mmm!”
Elijah yanked his hand back and wiped it on his trousers. “Sick!”
“I said, ‘Let me go, else I’ll lick you.’”
“Thanks for the warning.”
“Not a problem. So, what’ve you got next, ‘Lijah?”
“Biology. You?”
“Biology. Whittaker?” Orlando hurled the last of his croissant into the Thames. “That would be brilliant if we had a class together.”
“Yeah, Whittaker.” Elijah turned his head to look at Orlando. He really was quite handsome. Maybe his ears did stick out just a bit, but they were nothing like Dom’s. Dom looked as though he could take flight on a moment’s notice.
“Elijah,” Orlando grinned. “Have I got lettuce between my teeth or cheese up my nose?”
“Huh?”
“You’re staring at me like I’ve got half my lunch stuck to my face.”
“Right.” Elijah blushed nearly crimson. “I thought maybe I saw some mayo or something, but I didn’t. We should be going back now. I’d hate to be late for two classes on the first day.”
“Right behind you.”
**
Whittaker arranged his seating chart alphabetically, so Elijah and Orlando were seated at opposite ends of the room, much to Elijah’s chagrin. It was bad enough that the student sitting next to him at the narrow lab table seemed to have an affinity for onions and breathing on people, but to not have Orly to talk to would surely make the class creep by slowly. He was resigned to staring at the back of Orlando’s head, at those curls and the way they just brushed the collar of his shirt. Elijah had drifted into a daydream that involved what the skin beneath those dangling curls might taste like, when the class started laughing.
“Mr Wood? Are you with us?” Whittaker rapped on the whiteboard with the end of a metre stick. “I asked you if you could name the systems of the human body.”
“Uh, Muscular, Skeletal, Nervous, Cardiovascular, um, Respiratory, Endocrine, Immune, Urinary, Digestive, and uh, I don’t remember.”
“Very well, Mr Wood. Please pay attention in class, else I’ll have to report you to the Headmaster.” Elijah nodded. “Does anyone else know what our Mr Wood has forgotten?” Several hands went up, and Whittaker called on a student. “Fine, Mr Bloom. Tell us which systems are left.”
There was a sniggering among the students as Orlando stood to give his answer. “Lymphatic and Reproductive, both male and female.”
“Thank you, Mr Bloom.”
**
“Where’d you go there, Sherm?” When Elijah looked puzzled, Orlando explained. “In class. You stepped out for a minute. Where’d you go?”
“Why the hell do you keep calling me Sherm? Is Elijah too difficult to say?”
“Two reasons, really. One, it annoys you. Obviously. Two, you’re American.”
“I’m not following.”
Orlando rolled his eyes and sighed. “Sherman is slang for American. Ever hear of Cockneys?”
“Yeah, sure. Like Eliza Doolittle.”
“Right. Well, they’ve this entire language of their own. Rhyming slang. Sherman Tank is rhyming slang on Yank.”
“Jesus, I’ve got a lot to learn.”
“Yeah, well. The first thing I’d suggest is not dozing off in class. The second would be, well damn, I haven’t got a second thing. Just don’t fall asleep.” Orlando smiled, and Elijah had to look away. “I’ve got Drama just now, or I’d stand here and chat with you. Then I’ve got some things to do after school’s out. See you tomorrow, E-Li-Jah.” Orlando poked Elijah’s arm with each syllable, then walked away down the hall.
“See you tomorrow, Orly,” Elijah said to no one in particular, and started toward his own last class of the day.
**
Elijah debated staying up until midnight to call his sister, but decided against it. The idea of waking up at six in the morning without a decent night’s rest was not very appealing. Besides, the sooner he fell asleep, the sooner he’d dream. And maybe he’d dream about Orlando. “Fuck, Lij,” he said aloud to the dark, “you sound worse than Hannah when she’s found a new boy to crush on.”
As he lay there in bed, Elijah reviewed the day’s events in his head. He’d seen enough of guys like Dom back at his high school in Los Angeles. They were always ready with the queer jokes, the racial jokes, and the jokes about the kid with glasses that they didn’t have enough time to remember that these people were human too. Though Elijah knew their behaviour amounted to nothing more than a lack of self-respect, that knowledge didn’t make his life any easier. He’d been the butt of enough queer jokes to know firsthand. He suspected Orlando knew as well, only Orly didn’t seem to care. “Defence mechanism,” Elijah mumbled, and fell asleep.
Go to Part Two.
Author:
limeysugar, with quick-beta by dirtysidekick.Pairing: Orlando Bloom/Elijah Wood
Rating: PG-13 for language and innuendo.
Disclaimer: Not true. Fiction.
Author's Notes I: SQUICK ALERT! In the UK, the age of consent is 16. This story takes place in the last year of school for the boys (who in the series are the same age.), which makes them 17, almost 18. I am well aware that some people will not read anything wherein the characters are under the age of 18, hence the warning. There will be no descriptive sex, just angst, innuendo, and salty language. If this bothers you, don't read it. Simple as that.
Author's Notes II: Heavily inspired by the recent AU school fics by
marrymemerry and deleerium, and by the film Get Real. If you haven't seen it, do.**
“I feel like a fucking retard,” Elijah said to his reflection. He adjusted his tie again and buttoned up his jacket. “I look like I’m going to a goddamned funeral.” After checking his hair a final time in the mirror, Elijah picked up his carry-all and his Tube map and headed out the door.
In the margins of the map, Elijah’d scrawled the directions to the City of London School. He’d practised walking the route a few times over the weekend, but he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t get lost. This city was strange to him still, and he was still confused by the seemingly haphazard way it was laid out. Los Angeles was a sprawling, busy city, but to Elijah, London proper seemed the work of a drunken civil engineer.
In the nearly three weeks since his arrival, Elijah’d studied the Tube map diligently. He’d counted and re-counted the number of stops between his host family’s flat and Hyde Park Corner. He’d counted the number to Hampstead Heath, Kensington Gardens, Buckingham Palace, and to all the places he knew existed in London. He’d taken the requisite snapshots and purchased the requisite souvenirs to send to his family in California; now he was through being a tourist and ready to settle into his life as a student in London. He’d earned a year at the City of London School for Boys with excellent marks and a strong work ethic, and he was more than eager for his school year to begin. The uniforms, however, would require a period of adjustment.
**
With veteran skill, Elijah touched his Oystercard to the turnstile reader and pressed through. It had taken him a few tries to get it right, but that was weeks ago. His cheeks flushed pink at the memory of not having realised he needed to touch the card to get out as well as in, and how the policeman on duty had yelled at him. There were no subways in Los Angeles for him to practise on, so Elijah’d never learnt how they were used. In all the films he’d seen set in subways, he couldn’t recall having seen someone pay to get out. But now he could pass through the gates like a seasoned pro, and he felt a small surge of pride at his accomplishment.
Despite his newfound Underground knowledge, Elijah still felt as though he didn’t fit in. He didn’t have quite the look of an English boy; he walked with a different sort of stride, and when he wasn’t in his school clothes, he dressed a bit differently. These were things Elijah’d noticed straight away, within the first few days of his exploration of the city. He practised the laid-back gliding stroll he saw so many of the boys his age use, but he thought it made him look effeminate, so he gave up. The next thing Elijah had set about changing before school started was his voice. It was suddenly coarse-sounding among the refined voices that floated past him on the street and the subway as he went about his daily walks. He wanted to blend in. He wanted to become a part of the place in which he’d be spending the next year of his life, and take something home with him.
**
Clutching his nearly-empty carry-all on one hand, and loosely gripping the cold metal handrail with the other, Elijah glanced about the train car. Sitting on one of the seats with his earphones on was another student. He was wearing a black blazer just like Elijah’s but Elijah couldn’t tell if they attended the same school. He imagined all the schools in London required uniforms of some form or another, and they were probably similar in most ways, with the exception of a few minor details.
Elijah stood and stared at the curly-haired boy for a few moments longer. When the student felt Elijah’s gaze on him and looked up, Elijah immediately looked down at his shoes, blushing fiercely. Had he not been so quick to look away, Elijah would have seen the wide grin the boy’d given him before shaking his head and turning his attention back to his iPod.
With nothing else to do, Elijah fished in his trouser pocket for his map. He treble-checked the stop he was to get out on, certain he’d screw it up if he didn’t. It was one thing being the new kid, another thing being foreign, but something else entirely being thought of as stupid. And if that boy on the train was going to the same place Elijah was, Elijah didn’t want to make a bad impression.
**
When the doors opened at Mansion House, Elijah quickly glanced up looking for the Way Out. It still struck Elijah as funny that in place of EXIT, the British chose WAY OUT. He often found himself pondering the money that could be saved my manufacturing signs with fewer letters, and he was thinking about Hippies when he felt a tap on his left shoulder.
“Hey, mate.” It was the boy from the train. “You walking all on your onesy then?”
“My onesy? You mean alone, right?” The boy nodded. “Yeah.” Elijah started a bit as the boy pushed him out of the way of the moving crowd.
“Let them pass. We’ve got time. From America, yeah?”
Elijah rolled his eyes. “How’d you guess? The accent?”
“Nah, man,” the boy said, looking down. “The shoes. No self-respecting Englishman would be caught dead wearing those.”
Elijah’s gaze fell to his feet. “Dude, they’re the same as yours. School uniform.”
“As I said. Anyway, on to the formal introductions. I’m Orly.”
“Orly? Isn’t that like a city in France?”
“Short for Orlando.” Orlando said. “And if you don’t tell me your name, I’m just going to call you Sherman.”
“Elijah. Don’t call me Sherman.”
“Well, Elijah, what say we catch a bit of brekky before school?”
Elijah looked at his watch. “We’ve got twenty minutes before the first class starts.”
“Fuck! Is that all? We’d better run. Come on!”
Orlando and Elijah took off running out of the subway and down Queen Street. When they finally made it to school, panting and clutching their sides, Orlando breathlessly asked Elijah what class he had before the lunch hour. “Phys Ed,” Elijah gasped, leaning against the rough red brick of the school building.
“Brilliant. Wait for me after, and we’ll get a bit of something.” Orlando adjusted his carry-all and left Elijah to find the Headmaster’s office on his own.
**
Elijah was meant to be given a guide on this first day of school, with whom he was meant to meet in the Headmaster’s office, but so far no one had shown up. He was rather hoping Orlando could be the one to show him around the school. Orlando with the curly hair and slight hint of a moustache. Orly. Elijah sighed and looked at his watch for the fifth time in as many minutes. Just when he thought he’d been forgotten, the office door flew open, and in came someone who definitely was not Orly. Someone with big ears, an odd-looking nose, and quite possibly the most crooked mouth ever to grace a human face.
“I’m Dom,” the student muttered. “And I don’t want to be doing this.”
“Fine,” came Elijah’s answer as he stood up and picked up his bag. He followed Dom out of the office and into a hall.
“I’d show you around, but seeing as though we’re already late, I’ll have to do it after class. Perhaps if you’d gotten here a bit earlier, I’d have had the time to give you the proper tour.” Dom looked back at Elijah. “Did you get off at the right Tube stop?”
“Mansion House.”
“I’d advise Blackfriars in the future. That’s the one most of us use.”
“Blackfriars, then.” Elijah decided he’d ask Orly about it at lunch. So far, he wasn’t impressed with anything about Dom. And Orly’d gotten off at Mansion House anyway.
**
Maths, Elijah and Dom’s first class, had passed rather quickly, and Elijah had hoped Phys Ed would be the same. He could hardly wait to get away from Dom and his put-upon disposition. He was disappointed, however, because the hour and a half seemed to stretch on for days. When he and Dom did emerge from the changing room, Elijah saw Orlando headed for them.
“Jesus Christ,” mumbled Dom, tilting his head back dramatically.
“What?”
“See that bloke coming this way?” Dom gestured at Orlando with his eyes. “I advise you to stay out of his way.”
“Orly?” Elijah was confused. Dom couldn’t possibly be saying that Orly was the school bully. He wasn’t built like a bully, and the way he’d acted with Elijah that morning didn’t gel with the way the typical bully acted.
“The very article. Queer as a six-pound note, that one. And unless you want to be thought of in the same manner, stay away.”
“Holy shit,” Elijah breathed. “You’re kidding.”
“I’m not, but I reckon you’ll find that out in your own time.” Dom visibly tensed as Orlando made his way over to him and Elijah.
“Hey, Sherm. Hey, Dommie.” Orlando batted his eyelashes at Dom.
“Fuck you,” Dom spat, narrowing his eyes.
“Not today, darling. I’ve a lunch date. Tomorrow perhaps? I could schedule something if you’d like.” Dom didn’t say anything this time, he just flashed Orlando the V’s and walked away.
“What the fuck was that?” Elijah looked bewildered.
“Ah, that’s just Dommie. He’s not so bad. Just a shortarsed bastard with a complex.” Orlando pulled his wallet out of his carry-all, and counted a few notes before putting it back in. “Shall we?”
“Uh, yeah. I’m not really hungry, so wherever you want to go, I’ll tag along.”
“Fine. Have you been on the bridge yet?”
“Which one? There’s like a million of the fucking things.”
“The Millennium Bridge. It’s a footbridge across the Thames.” When Elijah nodded, Orlando continued. “I like to eat at the Tate sometimes, and it’s just across the bridge. It’s a nice walk and a spectacular view.”
Elijah followed Orlando out of the school, up the steps, and over the bridge. He’d walked across it by himself many times in the last few weeks, stopping midway to watch the water taxis and Port Authority boats make their ways up and down the river. Once, he’d seen a white football floating on the water, bobbing along with the current, so he’d gone down onto the Thames Walk to take a picture of it. It was poorly centred, and it was difficult to make out the ball with the way the light reflected on the water’s surface, but it was one of Elijah’s favourite photos. He felt sort of sad for the person who’d lost the ball, assuming it was a child, the same way he felt sad when he saw a balloon floating up into the sky.
**
Fifteen minutes later, Elijah and Orlando stood, leaning against the east rail of the bridge. Orlando was merrily munching away on a croissant sandwich, and Elijah was staring out over the river. “What bridge is that?”
“That,” Orly said between mouthfuls of lettuce and cheese, “is the Southwark Bridge. The one beyond it is the London Bridge. London Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down! London Bridge is falling down, my fair lady!” Before Orlando could launch into the next verse, Elijah clamped his hand over his mouth. “Mmm mm m, mm m mmm mmm!”
Elijah yanked his hand back and wiped it on his trousers. “Sick!”
“I said, ‘Let me go, else I’ll lick you.’”
“Thanks for the warning.”
“Not a problem. So, what’ve you got next, ‘Lijah?”
“Biology. You?”
“Biology. Whittaker?” Orlando hurled the last of his croissant into the Thames. “That would be brilliant if we had a class together.”
“Yeah, Whittaker.” Elijah turned his head to look at Orlando. He really was quite handsome. Maybe his ears did stick out just a bit, but they were nothing like Dom’s. Dom looked as though he could take flight on a moment’s notice.
“Elijah,” Orlando grinned. “Have I got lettuce between my teeth or cheese up my nose?”
“Huh?”
“You’re staring at me like I’ve got half my lunch stuck to my face.”
“Right.” Elijah blushed nearly crimson. “I thought maybe I saw some mayo or something, but I didn’t. We should be going back now. I’d hate to be late for two classes on the first day.”
“Right behind you.”
**
Whittaker arranged his seating chart alphabetically, so Elijah and Orlando were seated at opposite ends of the room, much to Elijah’s chagrin. It was bad enough that the student sitting next to him at the narrow lab table seemed to have an affinity for onions and breathing on people, but to not have Orly to talk to would surely make the class creep by slowly. He was resigned to staring at the back of Orlando’s head, at those curls and the way they just brushed the collar of his shirt. Elijah had drifted into a daydream that involved what the skin beneath those dangling curls might taste like, when the class started laughing.
“Mr Wood? Are you with us?” Whittaker rapped on the whiteboard with the end of a metre stick. “I asked you if you could name the systems of the human body.”
“Uh, Muscular, Skeletal, Nervous, Cardiovascular, um, Respiratory, Endocrine, Immune, Urinary, Digestive, and uh, I don’t remember.”
“Very well, Mr Wood. Please pay attention in class, else I’ll have to report you to the Headmaster.” Elijah nodded. “Does anyone else know what our Mr Wood has forgotten?” Several hands went up, and Whittaker called on a student. “Fine, Mr Bloom. Tell us which systems are left.”
There was a sniggering among the students as Orlando stood to give his answer. “Lymphatic and Reproductive, both male and female.”
“Thank you, Mr Bloom.”
**
“Where’d you go there, Sherm?” When Elijah looked puzzled, Orlando explained. “In class. You stepped out for a minute. Where’d you go?”
“Why the hell do you keep calling me Sherm? Is Elijah too difficult to say?”
“Two reasons, really. One, it annoys you. Obviously. Two, you’re American.”
“I’m not following.”
Orlando rolled his eyes and sighed. “Sherman is slang for American. Ever hear of Cockneys?”
“Yeah, sure. Like Eliza Doolittle.”
“Right. Well, they’ve this entire language of their own. Rhyming slang. Sherman Tank is rhyming slang on Yank.”
“Jesus, I’ve got a lot to learn.”
“Yeah, well. The first thing I’d suggest is not dozing off in class. The second would be, well damn, I haven’t got a second thing. Just don’t fall asleep.” Orlando smiled, and Elijah had to look away. “I’ve got Drama just now, or I’d stand here and chat with you. Then I’ve got some things to do after school’s out. See you tomorrow, E-Li-Jah.” Orlando poked Elijah’s arm with each syllable, then walked away down the hall.
“See you tomorrow, Orly,” Elijah said to no one in particular, and started toward his own last class of the day.
**
Elijah debated staying up until midnight to call his sister, but decided against it. The idea of waking up at six in the morning without a decent night’s rest was not very appealing. Besides, the sooner he fell asleep, the sooner he’d dream. And maybe he’d dream about Orlando. “Fuck, Lij,” he said aloud to the dark, “you sound worse than Hannah when she’s found a new boy to crush on.”
As he lay there in bed, Elijah reviewed the day’s events in his head. He’d seen enough of guys like Dom back at his high school in Los Angeles. They were always ready with the queer jokes, the racial jokes, and the jokes about the kid with glasses that they didn’t have enough time to remember that these people were human too. Though Elijah knew their behaviour amounted to nothing more than a lack of self-respect, that knowledge didn’t make his life any easier. He’d been the butt of enough queer jokes to know firsthand. He suspected Orlando knew as well, only Orly didn’t seem to care. “Defence mechanism,” Elijah mumbled, and fell asleep.
Go to Part Two.
