FLO: I Am Not My Father's Son [Zarry Stylik AU]©️

6

2 days later

Jaimie’s concentration skills were curious. While his Geography teacher wrote on the board, he was completely focused. He liked the sound of the chalk run on the board, the teacher’s impeccable handwriting (he was particularly fond of that extra curly tail on the Y and the roundness of the O’s and A’s) and the quietness of the room. He was completely in the moment, catching everything that came his way and managing to copy what was on the board, conjugating with pieces of information the teacher tossed their way. 

The moment the teacher dropped the chalk, turned around to the class and began to just talk, it was a countdown until the moment his attention shifted to something else. 

Jaimie sat his pen down, sitting back in his chair, looking at the teacher going on about what it is like to be close to an erupting volcano. Eventually, his mind would escape him, as his eyes took on the task of trying to identify every European country from a distance on the globe sitting on the teacher’s desk.

He got the basic six or seven just by shape alone, but he got distracted by the books on the small shelf and their colour display: why did most books have dark covers? Curious. How many books were on that shelf? What were they about? Why weren’t they organized in colour or size, instead of by theme - it was visually displeasing. 

Then, his eyes wandered down to the tiles of the classroom. If he focused hard enough, he could watch the lines of the large squares disappear out of the corner of his eyes - a neat trick he’d learned when he was young. 

Whose shoe is that? Nice colours. They looked new. When did she buy it? Mental note: buy new shoes.

His eyes wandered to the opened bags on the floor and the back of chairs, trying to spot what was inside - his colleagues had the most curious things inside. 

Moving his head to the opposite side, Jaimie looked outside to see the dark London skies above. The rain hadn’t stopped for the past two days and it didn’t seem to end anytime soon - unsurprisingly. 

He had managed to avoid any confrontation regarding the Grants, but he sensed an impending doom in the air. The bruises he had on his knuckles had heeled, for the most part, his face didn’t hurt as much and he felt okay.

He’d get looks from other colleagues in the halls and the Grant goons from across the cafeteria, but no one made a move. This was alarming: just because they were staying put, it didn’t mean they had forgotten - on the contrary. The worst attack comes after the quietness and when the enemy is relaxed. 

The bell rang and the students began packing their belongings. As always, Jaimie waited for Poppy and together they walked out of the class. The two siblings spoke amicably as they always had.

Their bond was impossible to deny since they were friends since toddlers. Some dared to believe they are boyfriend and girlfriend. Even after an entire year of disbanding those rumours, even though Rosie and Jaimie were publicly dating - the rumour still had a life of its own. The truth was Jaimie was still in love with Rosie and, despite denying it for her brother’s sake, Poppy had a soft spot for Alex’s swagger and confidence. 

Speaking of which, the siblings caught Alex, who was saying goodbye to a few colleagues. Together they’d walk to their next class, which was a few doors apart. 

“How’s the tutor?” Alex asked, walking next to Jaimie. He didn’t look as bad as he did before.  He had a small cut on his cheek and brand-new glasses. “Is it as horrible as I’d imagine?”

Jaimie could avoid going home all he wanted, but that didn't mean that Liam’s plan wouldn’t follow him. The tutor, the stern Mr Dell, showed up at Cheryl’s house and kidnapped Jaimie for a total of four hours, spending 1 hour with all failing subjects. It was torture. It left Jaimie feeling exhausted, mentally and physically, because he was forced to focus. He hated it. And the tutor was not kind either.