Fitting in With the Boys (The History Boys Fanfiction)

Act I Scene II

|I met a lady in the meads,

Full beautiful-a faery's child,

Her hair was long, her foot was light,

And her eyes were wild.|

Cutler's Boys State Grammar School was filling up with students new and old, since the holidays were over. The boys were in all forms of transport-walking, riding their bicycles pr hoping out of cars. The students were interacting with each other and their teachers. Dakin was walking with his sister, when he saw Scripps ride by on his bike he stuck his bag out right in front of him. It caused Scripps to wobble a bit on his bike but he just brushed it off with a laugh. Wendy laughed along with him, making Scripps eyes soften warmly as he looked at Wendy. Until he got nudged in the ribs by Dakin, causing him to wobble his bike some more. This makes Dakin and Wendy break out into even more laughter. Gaining attention and stares from the passer-by's.

Posner was riding by on his bicycle talking to one of the teachers, Akthar- the young man with the Middle-Eastern features-was showing off to the P.E teacher. Timms, the heavyweight, and Crowther, the young man with dark skin, were walking with Lockwood. Wendy and Dakin had caught up with the three boys, when Mr Hector rode past on his motorcycle. Timms did bow down movements with his arms, while the others just cheered Hector on. Poor Rudge though, he was getting stopped short each time he put a foot forward by the younger students.

They soon all grouped up and were walking up the stairs. They veered off to the right and into the History Department Room.

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|I made a garland for her head,

And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;

She look'd at me as she did love,

And made sweet moan.|

Mrs Lintott walked in and set her things down on the desk. Walking behind the desk she begins to unpack today's items. While doing this she began to speak,

"You're entitled-though only for five minutes-Dakin, to feel pleased yourselves," here Dakin just looks at Scripps in confusion. Scripps just smirks in reply "No one has done as well. Not in English, not in Science, not even, dare I say it, in media studies." She tells the students in a stern voice.

Everybody had a pleased smile plastered across their faces.

"And you alone are up for Oxford and Cambridge," continuing from before she adds quickly, "and special congratulations for Wendy, for being the only girl in the area to catch Oxford and Cambridge's eye." Wendy just smiled and ducked her head as a blush began to crawl up her neck.

"So, to work. First essay this term will be the Church on the eve of the Reformation."

Timms groans, "Not again, Ms."

Mrs Lintott looked affronted, "This is Oxford and Cambridge. You don't just need to know it, you need to know it backwards, Timms. Facts, facts, facts."

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|I set her on my pacing steed,

And nothing else saw all day long;

For sidelong would she bend, and sing

A faery's song|

"In the timetable, our esteemed headmaster has given these periods the dubious title of 'general studies'." Hector says to the class of nine, walking down the isle of desks, "I will let you in a little secret, boys and girl. There is no such thing as general studies. General studies is a waste of time. Knowledge is not general, it is specific. And nothing to do with getting on. But remember, open quotation marks," and here he swivels his palms from facing the floor, to the ceiling, " 'All knowledge is precious whether or not it serve the slightest human use' close quotation mark." He turns his palms facing to the floor.

Walking down the aisle with a rolled piece of paper in hand he begins to question them.

"Who said, Akthar? Timms? Lockwood, Dakin?" He lets out a big sigh, and continues to talk, not noticing Wendy's hand in the air.

"Loveliest of trees, the cherry now..."

"A Housman, sir

"Actually it's-"

"AE Housman, sir"

Not noticed and cut off, Wendy sighs and places her head down on the table. Gaining looks from both Posner and Crowther, she just turns her face to the side and waves off their looks. Though she had her head down she could still hear the conversation going on.

"Wasn't he a nancy sir?" question Timms.

"Foul, festering, grubby-minded little trollop, " she heard some hitting sounds, looks like Timms got hit again for his cheekiness, "Do not use that word."

"But you use it!" cried out Timms.

"I do sir, I know. But I am far gone in age and decrepitude" retorts Hector

"Er, you're not supposed to hit us sir," and there goes Dakin putting himself into a spot of mischief and pulling off that innocent but mischievous look Wendy thought.

"We could report you"

"I know, I know" Hector says as he walks towards the other end of the room, where Wendy, Crowther and Rudge sat. Speaking of Crowther,

"You should treat us with more respect. We're scholarship candidates now, sir." Someone sounds a bit smug.

"We're all going in for Oxford and Cambridge, sir" Wendy speaks out gaining both Hector's and the classes attention, as she finally had input in the conversation. She lifted her head off the desk. Her hair was in disarray, the red ribbon holding her hair back had come a bit loose, letting her dark hair fall about messily. Her tie and white blouse was crinkled from where she was lying down. Wendy smiles sheepishly and smooths out her blouse to look more presentable.

"Oxford and Cambridge! What for?" Mr Hector asks,

"Old sir. Tried and tested." Lockwood complains

Hectors, seeing how that was not the answer he wanted, pointed his rolled up paper at Lockwood,

"No! It's because other boys want to go there. It's the hot ticket, standing room only."

"Where did you go then sir?"

"I went to Sheffield," the class including Wendy broke out sniggering, "I was happy!" Hector declared with defiance.

" 'Happy is England, sweet her artless daughters. Enough her simple loveliness for me.' Keats." Hector quotes from heart.

"We won't be examined on that, will we, sir?" Crowther asks,

"Keats?"

"Happiness" Crowther answers seriously, only to be rewarded with a hard hit on the head, making the class snigger at his misfortune.

|She found me roots of relish sweet,

And honey wild, and manna dew,

And sure in language strange she said-

"I love thee true".| {La Belle Dames SAns Merci by John Keats}