Flower Child (Peter Parker, MCU)

Favors and Phone Numbers

"House of My Soul (You Light The Rooms)" - Langhorne Slim

Two Months Later

Lila Landry sat in her literature class Monday morning staring at her fingers rather than paying attention to the course material. She frowned at the dirt underneath her fingernails, mentally making a note to buy a more aggressive hand soap before she got home that evening. Although, deep in her heart she knew that the dirt couldn't leave her fingers, no matter how hard she tried. Not that she minded, Lila loved that while her hands were clean, there was always a piece of home tagging along for the ride.

She was so busy examining the dirt that she didn't hear her teacher call her name. Three times. "Lila." Fourth time's the charm, for Lila stared up at her teacher, who had a flat look on his face. Good old Mr. Puth, always looking to pick on the students who didn't know everything he taught, or didn't pay attention. Unfortunately, he decided he wanted to pick on Lila that class period. He raised an eyebrow, his expression seemingly triumphant. "Thank you for joining us as we discuss the tragedy that is Patroclus's death. Care to share your thoughts on how Homer intended it to be perceived?"

Lila's cheeks flared, for she hated being the center of attention. She thought she made that rather obvious, as she strategically chose her seat in the middle of the classroom, away from the back, where prowling teachers might try and pick on a student, yet not in the front with all the teacher's pets. Her seat was one row over from the row of desks next to the window, so she wouldn't be accused of daydreaming should any wandering stares find their way to the great view of New York City. It was almost perfect, she went by mostly unnoticed.

Mostly. Mr. Puth was a different story: he was like the living embodiment of Professor Snape, so miserable with teaching that he decided to psychologically torture the people that were legally required to be there by the state of New York. Today just happened to be Lila's turn for the needless picking. As if forgetting Lila's straight A's and high marks in his class, he still felt the need to prey on her, expose her shyness like chum for all the sharks in the water to see.

Swallowing most of her stutter, Lila did her best to rise to the occasion. "W-Well, seeing as h-how Homer wasn't — wasn't a single person, the death of Patroclus is actually interpreted different ways." Sliding into the topic that she was familiar enough to be comfortable with, Lila found herself slowly relaxing, and forgetting about the eyes still glued to her.

Mr. Puth's arched eyebrow rose fractionally. "Oh. And how do you figure?"

"I figure since this story is older than written history, it's safe to a-assume that Homer might be a representation of multiple b-bards all over Ancient Greece. That the bards that perform this story orally recounted a similar series of  — of events, one that has too many translations to count on two hands. Going off of this, I'd think that P-Patroclus's death is interpreted in many different ways."

Mr. Puth had no choice but to let the matter of Lila not paying attention slide. But that didn't mean she was off the hook. He sat down on his desk, and crossed his arms. "And how would you interpret the death of Patroclus, in the eyes of Achilles? I'm sure you could help explain it to the rest of the class."

Not likely, thought Lila. The rest of the class had either already read The Iliad twice over, or just didn't care. Blowing out a puff of air, Lila ran a hand through her messy, honey-colored waves. "Well, historically speaking, the death of Patroclus would be equated to that of Juliet losing Romeo, s-since they were lovers.

"Sexuality didn't exist in — in Ancient Greece," Lila elaborated, eyeing her teacher's expression change minutely. "People just l-loved, left and right. Achilles loved Patroclus, and to lose him, to have him ripped away from him, well, I personally think it's o-one of literature's greatest romantic tragedies."