Picasso and The Delinquent (Phan)

Average Classes?

Phil's POV

I walk into the room with all my pride sagging behind me. And sure enough as I expected.....

Everyone was staring at me.

Not that I minded. It could be good or bad. Maybe they're admiring my looks, or wondering if I've ever murdered anyone.......who knows what goes on in the mind of a paint head.

The teacher sure enough had a lot to stare at apparently. She had big round glasses on, short cut hair, and boarder school shoes. I could've mistakes her for a Hogwarts student, all she needed was a wand and a black robe.

"You must be Phil Lester, am I correct." She asks.

"Unfortunately....."

She nods forcing a smile. "Well my name is Ms.Jennifer, I understand it's your first year in this class?"

I nod, uninterested in anything she's saying.

"Since you're new around here and a bit late, you'll have to take one of the leftover available seats towards the front. Pick whichever one you want." She says sitting back down at her desk.

I groaned mentally. I hated sitting in the front. How was I suppose to avoid paying attention sitting directly in front of her face?

And of course the weirdest of all kids would be at the front tables. For once. I regret coming in late for class.....

First table: some kid with glue on his hands......peeling it off as it dries, imitating snake skin......no thanks.

Second table: a chick painting a portrait of the girl from The Ring, wearing a Blood on the Dance Floor shirt and eyeliner down to her cheeks........I enjoying living, I'll pass.

Third Table: ...........

Just.....normal. Just a boy. Quiet and concentrated....doesn't look annoying. I scored a big one. I could definitely copy his shit for the remainder of the year.

I take a seat next to him and place my raggedy, three written on paged, spiral notebook on the table. Let the torture begin.

15 minutes later........

I lift my head up from my arms and whip the drool protruding from my mouth. Damn.....this class was stupid, but it was sure easy to sleep in.

"Mr.Lester, so nice of you to join us again...." She says as I start to stretch,
I roll my eyes. There's nothing nice about being awake in this hell pit.

"Is it possible if you can stay with us for the remainder of class?" She asks, stacking her papers neatly.

I laugh sarcastically, ignoring the stares I get. I would hibernate in here if I wanted to. "So I'll take that as a no..." She says emotionless.

"Alright students, moving on to the next slide, we will be discussing Andy Warhol, one of the most influential artists of the 19th century, famous for painting common household goods and items, such as a simple can of Campbell's chicken noodle soup. Could anyone explain to me why he was so significant?"

A few hands are raised. Welp.....saves my ass from having to-

"Mr.Lester."

Fuck.

"Could you tell me why Andy Warhol was such a significant artist?"

I slumped in my chair weary, tired of her targeting me. "I don't know...."
I don't care, I should've said.

"Could anyone tell Mr.Lester why?"
News flash. Mr.Lester doesn't give a damn......

"Well, Andy Warhol was a man of simplicity. While keeping his drawing simple, he added a pop of color, which gave his paintings the label of pop art. He was influential because he felt like art should be expressed through feeling. Giving other people the idea of painting just like he did."

I look over and around. Over looking whoever said that.....the guy sitting next to me.

"Inspiring Mr.Howell, I'm quite impressed." She gave him a truthful grin.

I look over at his notes. He had written down every slide and caption. Was he training to be the next Einstein or something?

30 minutes later............

As class droned on and on, I just copied off of his paper ever time I woke up from my 40 second nap. I didn't seem like he knew or minded, so it was whatever for me.

The bell rang over the intercom. Finally. Freedom is calling me and asking for lust filled night. I quickly get up to grab my things (my beat up notebook and my phone) and make my wait out of the door. Sure enough I get caught in the middle of battle with Vincent Van Gogh and Claude Monet. Why the hell does everyone wanna be in the way when I wanna leave the most?

Finally, when everyone's out of the door, it's my turn to leave. I was almost out of the door......but some how I manage to run into somebody with a boat load of papers.

"Shit......sorry." He gets down to get his things from the floor. It was just that guy I was sitting next to. No one new.

"It's fine." I hand him his textbooks. There was no need to be an ass. I could avoid being rude for the next 5 minutes. He holds his things to his chest. I stare at him blankly. Why did he have so much shit?

"I'm really sorry about that."
"It's whatever......."
A moment of silence passes as he puts his bag on his shoulder.
"Might I ask why you've got so much shit?"

He looks up at me. "Uh well......I'm at school and these are textbooks....and textbooks are for school." He says in a obvious tone. Was he trying to make me feel stupid?

"It's only the first day. You don't need all of this." I tell him.
"I'm not in any average classes, so I kinda do need all of this."
Average classes.....he was insulting me indirectly.
"What's wrong with average classes?" I ask leaning against the wall.
"Nothing....I'm just not in any...."
"And would it be a problem if you were....would it make you seem less smart or something....."

"Uh no.......they're just more advanced...." He says.
"So you saying if I'm in an average class ...... I don't need a textbook?"

He wrinkles his eyebrows at me. Ha, Got em.

"I'm saying since I'm in advanced AP classes that it would be wise for me to bring my book on the first day, because we start hella work on the first day. In the average classes, you don't have to bring anything, cause they go over the syllabus and requirements. For AP you do that over the summer by yourself."

And.....lost em.
Then it hit me....why was I even on his case? I get the feeling of sympathy for once.....

"I didn't mean to be rude I just-"

"Were feeling offended, I understand. I'm sorry I came about it that way." He straightens the strap on his bag.

I nod. It was no wonder why he in AP considering he read minds too.....

Then I blurted out something I've never asked any girl I met if she was fine as hell....

"What's your name?" I ask.

"Dan..." He looks at me from the side strangely, like "why is this punk kid so into my life."

"Well.....I um.....I'm Phil." I say rubbing the back of my neck awkwardly.

He nods, and looks around anxiously. Was he afraid of me or something?

The last bell of the day goes off. Dan begins starts turn out the light, possibly for the teacher.

"Well it was nice meeting you Phil, I'll see you next class, ok?" He gives me a smile and walks out. I walk out behind him only to think.......

Why DID I care so much?