Overtime

four ✧ || adapt

Wandering into their first high school class, Colten, Raymond, and Dustin had mixed reactions.

Raymond felt a small swell of joy as he found a seat in the back corner. It suited his fancy, that being hidden and private. He adjusted his glasses in silence, suppressing his glee as he glanced around the small room. An environment strictly to learn was exactly his kind of space, and watching a handful of other kids wander in, chatting amongst themselves, he knew he was in his zone.

Dustin and Colten, however, sat with slumps hanging in their shoulders.

Of course their first class was math, the class they dreaded most and Raymond loved the best.

"Okay all, you know the drill." A male, wandering to the front of the class with an armful of papers, sifted through them without raising his head once. He scratched at his black beard before running a hand through his hair. Finally, as he looked up and over his oak framed glasses, he spoke directly to the group. "Today's the work period based off of our lesson from last class. I don't care if you guys talk as long as you keep your voices down and get the work done."

As he studied the room, rather small, he caught wind of the three new students huddled in the back. He paused, studying them for a brief moment, before his gaze darted back to the papers in hand. "You can start as soon as you get them."

He sifted through the class, making a circuit of handing out a single page to each student. He tossed them onto desks without much care, letting out a sigh at the end of each row. The instant he passed a huddle of students, they began to chatter away, not a care in the world for the assignment they had just been passed.

Dustin, Raymond, and Colten sat silently and patiently.

"I'm not sure how far along you guys are in your schooling up in Canada," the male began as he approached, slipping a page onto each of their desks. At the very least, he was displaying more respect towards them than the handful of other students in the class. Maybe they merely hadn't yet lost his respect yet. "But if you guys need any help, just let me know."

Little did he know that the help they required, he couldn't give.

Raymond began breezing through the sheet, answering every question left and right. He never had trouble with math. It was, after all, the field he excelled the best in. Whenever The Professor taught them their lessons, he was always at the top of their group. He was the one that always asked to keep their textbooks, so he could read them later. Of course, always aching for a pupil to gush over, The Professor allowed it.

While the assignment was a breeze for him and a slow-moving puzzle for Colten, for Dustin, it was impossible.

Not due to a lack of knowledge, however, but due to his hand.

During classes with The Professor, he rarely needed to write. Their courses were mainly a verbal back-and-forth with The Professor asking the group questions and requiring them respond as quickly as possible. He claimed it was to "encourage them to absorb facts and memorize them quickly". Maybe he just didn't trust them which objects as sharp as pens and pencils.

It was difficult — almost impossible — to suppress the strength in his hand long enough to write a simple sentence. The fear of him snapped his pencil in half was daunting. While he knew The Professor wouldn't care — he had packed others, after all — he knew it would draw suspicion from his classmates.

Any phrase, number, or word he attempted to write came out sloppy and jumbled. Maybe towards the end of the day they would come out as more pristine, but for the time being they were a scribbled mess with no hope of impressing a teacher.