Right, lets get the boring stuff out the way! I'm Nickel. Not posted a fic for quite a while because of various real life things and a lack of motivation and stuff like that.
So obviously I come back with a high school AU. Yeah. I'm not going to go on about how this one is going to be so different from all the rest, because, uh, it's not. It's a High School AU. There's only so many different ways to write high school drama! But I hope you'll find it enjoyable enough, which is my main aim.
ALSO. The school system here is sort of a mixture of Scottish (names of classes, times for lunches and starting/finishing times) and vaguely made up (three years of school- Junior (16 year olds), Sophomore (17 year olds), Senior (18 year olds). This is because I myself am scottish, and cannot understand any system other than my own. Thankfully, PW's general ambiguity means it's fairly easy to wing these things, so just go with it, I guess? This also was because I had to fudge a lot of ages to get students in similar years with each other.
But still, have fun! :D
Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me in any way, shape or form. Most of the situations they're in are tired, over-used clichés, but the lols that lead up to me deciding to write this belong entirely to my friends and I.
Summary: Gatewater High- 'We believe in Diversity'. Well if nothing else, at least the school was living up to it's motto.
Damon Gant was not the kind of man that most people would expect to be a head teacher. In a world of mousey old ladies and uptight old fools, he was a breath of fresh air. And oh, how he enjoyed being different. Teachers didn't expect it. Parents didn't expect it. And students? Well, they were especially fun to scare. Ruining the mornings of children always made him happy (which was probably why most people didn't think he was a head teacher, now that he thought about it). They soon got over it though- once they'd met some of the staff he'd hired, they always forgot to worry about him.
He prided himself on choosing 'unconventional' staff for all the positions within the school. It kept things interesting, and when you're spending all day teaching young adults about a bunch of things they probably don't want to learn, 'interesting' is very important.
He took a sip of coffee, relishing it as one did when they knew that this one cup would be fresher than any of the hundreds of others he ploughed through this term, he knew that this year would not be any less amusing than the last. New students! New minds to shape and educate. Which, after all, was what being a teacher was all about.
That, and terrorising his staff.
"Lana!" he called, spotting his first target for the day enter the staff room. She was Vice-Principal, good, and sane- probably the only one left in this building that was, if he was honest. She also had a good face. One that you could trust. Probably got him out of numerous lawsuits in the past, and he was no doubt she would do so again in the future.
She was also very serious.
"Good morning, Mr Gant," she said in a voice that sounded far too clipped, far too depressed to belong to any of his staff members. He resolved to cheer her up, after all, he'd always been told he had a good sense of humour.
"O-ho, yes indeed! A brilliant morning!" He gave her a reassuring clap on the shoulder, ignoring how it nearly sent her flying into the back of Mr Armando. "I hope you're prepared for educating!"
"Of course, sir!" she replied, scuttling away from him (and his monstrously powerful back-slaps) as soon as he'd finished speaking. He smiled at her suddenly renewed vigour. That was much better.
"Fantastic!" He placed his now-empty coffee cup down on top of the water dispenser and clapped his hands together, effectively gaining the attention of all the teachers in the room. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I believe it is time to man your stations."
There was something almost beautiful about him, Mia decided, gazing through the classroom door. Standing there at the window almost majestically, shivering delicately in the breeze coming from the open window. He'd grown over the holidays, too, just a little. No-one else would've noticed; but then again, no-one loved him quite as much as she did.
"Good Morning," she said cheerfully, entering the room and shrugging her coat onto the coat hook behind her desk, "catching some of the morning sunshine, are we?"
"Talking to plants again, Mia?" She glanced over her shoulder with a contemptuous look, knowing the source of the voice before she saw it. But, search she did, until she saw the familiar face of one Diego Armando peeking round the doorframe.
"His name is Charley, if you please," she replied brusquely, to cover up her embarrassment as best she could, "and what are you doing this early in the morning, spying on your fellow teachers?"
"Ha..! It's only spying if I don't announce my presence," he entered the room, familiar mug in one hand and his briefcase in the other, "Besides, you have my register."
"Hm," she smiled despite herself, reaching for the paperwork on her desk. Usually she'd be chasing Diego out the room, but since she hadn't seen him all summer, she figured she could tolerate him a little longer, "Talking to plants has been proven to be very good for them, Mr Armando."
"I'm sure anyone you deign to talk to is better off for it in the end, Ms Fey."
"Do I detect a hint of sarcasm?"
"Not at all," he grinned back, and took the register when she offered it to him, giving it a quick once over. "Edgeworth and Wright. Fantastic."
"Oh, they're not that bad,"
"I think you would feel differently if you had to see them first thing every morning," Diego grumbled, folding the register sheet and sliding it snugly into his breast pocket.
"I imagine they feel the same," Mia replied sweetly, glancing over her own register, "Klavier Gavin. Wasn't he in your German class last year?"
"Gavin...," he tilted his head sideways, a thoughtful look upon his face, "Oh, yes," he snorted and smirked, "Have fun with that one."
"I'm sure he'll be fine, Mr Armando. You should have more faith in your students, lest they realise how much you dislike them."
"I don't dislike all of them," he countered, sounding a little defensive, "Just some of them."
"And I imagine, once again, they feel the same! And I understand, if you're as insufferable with them as you are with me?"
"Ha...! Says the woman who talks to plants." He downed the last of his coffee, keeping the mug against his lips until he was sure it had drained fully.
"Just one plant" Mia said cheerfully, watching him turn and walk out the room to his own classroom, just across the corridor, "Have fun with Wright and Edgeworth!"
As the clock struck 8:15, the first students began to enter the building. Damon Gant watched them from the front office, doing his best to be as imposing and scary as he had been last year. He'd procured a new suit for the occasion- dark orange and with creases sharp enough to cut paper- and he'd been practising his slow blink, so he was sure the students would be suitably cowed. It wouldn't do for them to enter thinking they were going to get an easy ride, after all. After a few moments, the trickle turned into a stream, and soon Gant found himself the blockage in an otherwise clear entrance way. Students parted a metre or so away from him and grouped again a metre or so behind, eager to crush past him and onwards to their classrooms. It amused and pleased him to see how fast they moved; clearly his wardrobe and overall demeanour were working. So caught up was he in being pleased, that he almost missed two of the biggest trouble makers go past him.
"Hold it!" he boomed, striding forward to intercept a rather dazed-looking senior student and his friend. They went by the names of Mr Phoenix Wright and Mr Miles Edgeworth, they were in their last year here at his fine educational establishment, and they were very well known for being trouble-makers. Well, Phoenix was. Edgeworth was rather more calm about it all, but none-the-less. An accomplice was an accomplice! They looked no different this morning than they had the last day of term. Phoenix was still wearing that silly hat of his, the navy blue one with the worn hole at the back, and clothes that could generally be described as shabby. Shabby jeans, wearing away at the knees, a shabby jumper, loose around the wrists and waist, and a shabby bag, slung low across his shoulders so it settled neatly at the base of his spine. He would have been an attractive young gentleman if he didn't look like he'd been sleeping in a hedge.
Mr Miles Edgeworth, on the other hand, was pristine. Pale, brownish-grey hair sat smoothly on his head, sprayed to sit over his right eye so as to appear, as Gant understood, "stylish". Black jeans were neatly arranged over black trainers, and his reddish-pink zip-up was arranged so the zip sat exactly in the centre of his chest. His bag, a smart messenger bag, hung down to his hips. Everything was neat, nothing was out of place.
"Morning Mr Gant!" Miles said nervously, reaching up to fiddle with his fringe, "We were just on our way to Tutor -"
"Yes, yes, Edgeworth!" Gant interrupted loudly, giving the pale boy one of his scary-friendly smiles, which served to shut the boy up, "I've just been talking to your father! Good grades last year, eh? Well, keep up the good work!"
"Thank you, er, very much."
Wright was still staring at the wall just behind Gant, looking, for want of a better expression, away with the fairies.
"Not so good for you, Wrighto! Have to work harder this year!"
"Hm? Sure, Mr G," Phoenix said slowly, scratching at his hair beneath his hat awkwardly and looking as bored as he always did, "Work hard. Sounds like a plan." Gant gave them both a slow smile and clapped them on the shoulder, satisfied when it sent them both stumbling through towards the main staircase. "Ol' Bastard," Phoenix muttered, as soon as they were out of earshot.
"Definitely creepy," Edgeworth agreed, shifting his bag onto the other shoulder, "Did you see the way he blinked at us?"
"Needs laid," was Phoenix's simple reply; indeed, it was his solution to most of his teachers apparent shortcomings. That, or they needed to 'chill'. And God knows, no-one knew chilling better than Phoenix Wright.
"Thanks Nick. Not really a mental image I wanted first thing in the morning." Phoenix cracked a grin, glancing at some of the other students and teachers as they climbed the stairs to the language department. Mr Armando was taking over from their old tutor teacher, it seemed. They'd met him before, of course, back when they'd thought taking Spanish would be a laugh.
"You seen Maya yet?" he asked Miles thoughtfully, rubbing his chin as they made their way down the hall.
"Nope, not yet. They're in my Dad's tutor group though, I heard him mention it at breakfast."
"We'll swing by English and have a look then," Phoenix decided, glancing at his watch briefly, "I'm sure Mr A won't mind if we're a few minutes late."
"Here!" Adrian Andrews stuck her hand in the air smartly until Ms Fey had turned back to her register, before clasping them together neatly in her lap. It was awfully rude, really, the way her class was acting this morning. Of course, she could appreciate they were just back from holiday, but honestly. Some people needed to hear what was happening in class, and in Adrian's mind it was only right that the rest of the class shut the hell up while those people tried to listen. It was just common courtesy, but she supposed she shouldn't have expected any better from high school students. A rowdy bunch, the lot of them. No sooner had she started grumping to herself about it than the girl to her right nudged her sharply in the ribs, causing her to wince.
"You are looking grumpy again, Adrian. We have only been back in the building 20 minutes."
"Everyone's being too noisy" she whispered in reply, eyeing Franziska's amused expression with distaste, "and ow, not so hard next time, kay?"
"Well, I tried calling your name, you foolishly ignored me, I reacted with violence."
"I-I noticed that, thanks. So did my ribs."
Franziska merely grinned, patting Adrian on the shoulder. It was her round about way of saying sorry, and so Adrian smiled too, pulling out her notepad and pen. If only the rest of the class knew the polite way to go about having conversations while the teacher was talking.
I can't hear what she's saying over all the racket. Haven't people had the whole holidays to talk?
You talk as if you are a teacher too. So serious, Adrian.
Yes, well, we're nearly in our last year. We have to be serious about these things.
I do not think everyone agrees with you; It doesn't look like Gavin thinks so.
Adrian glanced up at Klavier Gavin, who sat three rows ahead of her and was noisily recounting his summer holidays to anyone that would listen. Atop his perfectly styled blond spikes sat a pair of over-sized sunglasses, with dark rims to match the scarf he had loosely twirled around his neck. She was fairly sure that was a piercing she saw, peeking out just over the top of the scarf and twinkling under the sunshine. On the floor beside him sat his bag, which appeared to be more patches and badges than actual bag. Beside that she could see a guitar case, covered in stickers and names that had been scratched in place with a pin. She narrowed her eyes in distaste just as his name was called. Instead of a smart reply, of course he replied with a jaunty wave, a mere glance in Ms Fey's direction.
Klavier has never counted, and will never count. I refuse to accept he passed the exams last year.
Well, Daryan, then? He does not look like he is taking things seriously.
Daryan Crescend, one Klavier's little band buddies. The only difference between him and Klavier seemed to be the hairstyles. While Klavier's was sleek, shiny and spiky, Daryan's hair was a monstrosity of gel and willpower arranged into an elaborate quiff. She wasn't sure how it stayed looking so perfect, but she could honestly say she wasn't even faintly interested.
Even worse than Klavier.
Did not know that was possible. Want me to hit them?
Adrian smiled warmly at her best friend. She knew Franziska meant it, too. Anyone that had ever bothered Adrian had found themselves on the business end of Franziska's hand really very quickly. But still, she could tell most of her irritation with Mr Gavin was probably do with things unrelated to his seriousness at this point in time. It would be unfair for Franziska to punish him merely for existing, although it was such a tempting idea.
Best not. Wouldn't want to get a detention before you'd even made it to your first class.
Franziska shrugged her shoulders and gave Adrian a small smile, as if to say Whatever you want.
"Here," she called out, idly sweeping her blue hair back into a low ponytail.
"Well class, welcome back," Ms Fey said dryly, popping her register into a folder and leaning back to sit on the edge of her desk, "Nice to see you're all as cheerful as- Misters Gavin and Crescend, sit up please- ever. Now, you'll have seen the new students already I'm sure, be nice to them please, and behave yourselves. If I hear of bad behaviour, well, I won't be pleased. Good morning."
The group trailed out the door slowly, joining the swell of students rushing too and fro past the front of the classrooms. Adrian and Franziska were last out, taking their time to pick up their folders and things- it didn't matter, since they were only going across the corridor to Mr Armando's German class. He probably wouldn't even have finished with his own tutor group yet.
"Adrian, a second please," Ms Fey called after her. Adrian looked at Franziska suspiciously. Surely Ms Fey hadn't thought she had been disrupting the class, and if she had, well she was going to set her straight. Arguments already formulating in her head, she turned around, sweet as pie.
"Could you take this to Mr Armando, please," Ms Fey said politely, handing Adrian a large pile of paperwork and other things, "it appears he must have left it here earlier this morning. By accident."
That last bit sounded a little fake, Adrian thought, but she wasn't going to voice that. Not when Ms Fey's eyes were glinting like that.
"Of course." And quickly, she rushed away.
The map, Apollo had decided, wasn't in English. That was the only reason he could think of as to why he couldn't understand it. He'd tried turning it around, holding it right up close to his nose, even spinning it back-to-front but still, the plans that were drawn on the piece of paper in his hand did not seem to correspond to the building in which he was currently standing.
In vain, he looked around for anything that appeared... landmark-y. A reception desk! A swimming pool! Even a student would have been useful! But no, he appeared to be in the Not-on-the-map department, floor infinity and something. As for students, he'd only seen one other so far, a very tall blond guy, with tight jeans and glasses that appeared to be more stylish than functional. And when he'd tried to ask him for directions, all he'd got was; "Not worth my time!" and a wave of weirdly feminine aftershave.
He'd decided maybe that guy wasn't the best person to ask. And that this school was full of weirdoes, but that assumption had been less fair.
With a sigh, he trudged towards a pair of double doors that he hoped led to salvation, and/or the maths corridor. Where he was meant to be at this point in time. The room number, R412, really wasn't helping much. There didn't appear to be a fourth floor, and unless the scrawled note from the receptionist- REMEMBER TO PICK UP KIM FROM SCHOOL- was some sort of code, he didn't think it was meant for him.
Trucy had found her first class easily, of course, spotting the Drama theatre within 5 seconds of leaving their tutor class. Truly a useless sister in these trying times.
The double doors, however, were much more useful. Behind them he could see a set of glorious stairs, leading hopefully to crowds and people and things that he'd expected to see more of in a school . Down he went to the floor below, and peered through the glass pane set halfway up the door. Well. He had found the people. Students were weaving to and fro along what appeared to be a very narrow corridor, narrowly missing each other as they worked their way to class. Being rather small and also kind of skinny, Apollo didn't think it looked very safe. But if he wanted to make it to Mr Grossberg's math class , he would have to brave the crowd. He took a tentative step out into the corridor and was almost immediately barrelled into the wall by a large, walking guitar case.
Well, that was a new one. Also, a painful one. Yes, he didn't think he'd ever made his shoulder truly aware of what pain was, but rest assured: it now knew! Thank you Mr Walking guitar case, for teaching me such useful information.
Luckily, the wall into which he had been so unceremoniously slammed was right next to an open door, and he managed to squeeze in through that before any other anthropomorphic musical instruments decided to attack him.
"Can I help you?" A bespectled gentleman was looking at him with an amused smile, glancing somewhat openly at Apollo's dishevelled appearance. And also possibly at the last remnants of his sanity dribbling out of his ears, but that one was less likely.
"Er, yes, sir. I'm looking for, uh, Mr Grossberg's maths class? I'm new." He added that last bit on the end as if the guy didn't know; couldn't tell by the way Apollo was currently glancing around like a nervous rabbit.
"Of course! Room R112, floor directly below this one, turn left and you'll see it."
Success! Apollo thanked the teacher profusely, trying to ignore the titters from the class that had begun to assemble. Before he could say anything embarrassing or potentially insulting (he did have quite a knack for that), he dashed out of the room and back down the staircase, happy that the corridors were now somewhat emptier. 50% less chance that he was going to die horribly! Finally, looming in the distance, Apollo saw the classroom Door. It was such a welcome sight, oh he felt he may have wept.
He imagined angels.
He imagined beautiful things.
He imagined not making a fool of himself.
Such a beautiful dream.
"Ahrm, good morning my boy!" Apollo surveyed his math's teacher warily. He was big man, with a small moustache that seemed to be somewhat alive considering the way it was... wiggling. But he appeared nice enough, and in a school full of possessed guitars and Very Tall Blond People, that was a welcome change.
What kind of school have I somehow stumbled into, he thought desperately, not noticing for a moment that Mr Grossberg was talking, presumably to him, and so he tuned back in. Hopefully he looked as if he'd been paying attention and not staring into space.
"....so you can sit up there, next to Mr Gavin!" Apollo followed Grossberg's finger all the way to the back of the classroom, to a mess of blondness and fabric and piercings and things that Apollo wasn't really sure if he'd seen a guy wear before. The creature glanced up at the sound of his name, smiled in a vacant sort of way in Apollo's direction, and then went back to the notebook it had open on it's desk. Well, at least he hadn't mimed killing him, which Apollo thought was a good thing! Not dying really was, despite all evidence to the contrary, top of his list of things to do today.
"Uh, okay. Great. Yes!" And off Apollo went, through the rows of really quite suspicious looking students until he came to the empty seat beside the boy he knew only as Mr Gavin.
"-Drama, darlings! It's really the best subject in this school- really, the most fantastic plays- and I am glad- so glad- you decided to join my magnificent department!" The stage seemed alive with his presence. The lights caught his hair and made it glow. From the audience pit, where the brand new class of nervous 16 year olds sat, he looked almost God-like.
If, you know, God had a dangerous fascination with the colour pink.
"I hope Mr Galactica isn't always this...um," Trucy shot a worried look to the girl next to her, who nodded firmly in response.
"I...I wonder if this is a joke?" She whispered back, fingering a light-brown pigtail nervously, "He's very... um... energetic." Trucy grinned at her choice of words. She'd met the girl only half an hour ago, and yet already she was growing to like her.
"Sensible choice of words there, Pearl."
"Well, I don't want to offend anyone."
Trucy shook her head a little and turned back to Mr Galactica, who didn't look like the kind of man you could easily offend. If you tried, he'd probably just decry how un-fabulous you were and then skip away, acting all the while as if nothing was wrong. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered which lucky class it was that got to have him as a tutor. He was now scanning his audience with shining eyes, as if they were a class of critics rather than willing (?) students there to learn. It really was quite, quite frightening.
Pearl Fey, the girl to her right, seemed to agree with her whole heartedly. She was sitting perfectly calmly in the chair, but her nervous twitches were obvious for the word to see. Well, obvious for Trucy to see. The girl to Trucy's left, one Vera Misham, was far more obvious in her apprehension. Her eyes were wide in fear, and she was clutching the knees of her jeans tightly between her fingers as she followed Mr Galactica across the stage.
Most of the class appeared to be on her side.
"Right!" He said finally, stopping in the centre of the stage, "I need... someone... fabulous- yes, you, girl in the blue, up here please!" Trucy almost laughed, because, silly her, it appeared as if he was pointing in her direction. And no, he wouldn't do that, not on her first day. Would he?
She looked one way. No blue there.
She looked the other. Nope, there didn't appear to be any blue there either.
She glanced down at her t-shirt, and sighed to herself. Pale, powder-blue, to match her hair band. "Me, Mr Gala-"
"Yes, yes, yes, yes- you appear fabulous, and thus you must come on stage. Quickly, protégé, up on stage." Before her brain could work out what was going on, she had propelled herself up onto the stage, where Mr Galactica promptly wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "Right! This young lady- what is your name?"
"-Trucy Justice! Fantastic! Yes, Trucy here is going to stand here- no here- thank you, for me, and, oh! You! Yes, boy in the white. No, not you- nowhere near fabulous enough, yes- Yes! You! Over here, now-"
This was going to be a long day.
There was an unforeseen hierarchy within Gatewater High, unknown to the teachers and adults. It ruled the students, who they could talk to, who they could be seen with, and to whom they could talk should they need the advice of a friendly older student.
Kristoph Gavin was not that friendly older student.
He had always been popular at the school, popular among everyone that he cared to mention, anyway. And now, he was top of the food chain. Student President. Headmaster Gant's favourite. Every award that it was possible for him to have, he had. Of course, he hadn't always gotten them the legal way, but his ingenuity was to be praised!
Now he had to choose a successor, for it was his last year. And Kristoph didn't want someone... uncouth taking over. No, whomever he chose had to be able. Smart. Beautiful. The obvious choice would be his brother, in the year below. But Klavier, bless his little heart, was a bit of an idiot. A few sandwiches short of a picnic. Not the brightest crayon in the box.
Definitely not Head-of-school material, really. Besides, he was a band kid. Everyone knew they couldn't be trusted.
He had half a mind to choose Adrian, Klavier's old flame. She definitely ticked all the boxes, but was a little too... good for his tastes. She didn't seem like the type that would do what was necessary to hold onto the post. And, alas, her style left quite a bit lacking. He adjusted his glasses subconsciously and swept his hair over his shoulder, aware of the need for him to look pristine.
"Matt, what are the new students like?" he mused, glancing at his friend across the table.
"Whiney, mostly. Some of 'em have signed up for the football team, though, so Juan and I will know better then."
"Excellent," he smirked, "My brother's year are looking to be fairly lacking in the leadership department. If you see any likely candidates, link them to my MySpace." That was the easiest way for people to contact him; he was expanding his MySpace empire faster than he ever could expand his real one.
"Not your brother, then?" Juan asked, chewing on the end of a tube of pixie dust thoughtfully. Kristoph shook his head smartly, almost dislodging the slightly-too-big glasses he was wearing. He would have to take pictures with them on; the style seemed to be catching on, and he didn't want to be seen as merely a trend follower, but a trendsetter.
The two boys nodded in unison, lapsing into silence as they usually did when Kristoph wasn't ordering them about. He seemed not to notice the lack of speaking and was instead relaxing in his chair, hands clasped firmly behind his head.
So there we have it: first ten pages all written. :D I am planning to continue this, obviously, so we'll see if I can stick to a once-a-week update schedule. This is of course barring disaster and college coursework, and if I get lots of free time, more chapters! So yeah. Review me, email me, message me, and I thank you for reading!