Streetlights

John’s never been good at beginnings.

When his dad decided to move here, it was so John could have a fresh start, a new beginning. They pitied him - bullied at school, too apathetic to retaliate, causing his attackers to increase the torture - but never once stopped to consider that maybe he didn’t want a fresh start or a new beginning. They didn’t stop to realise that he’d fuck it up, just like everything else.

It’s John’s first day at his new school, Derse Grammar. His parents were surprised he managed to make it into a grammar school. John himself wasn’t, however - he knew kids at grammar schools were less likely to beat you than those at comprehensives and private schools, so he half-assed his way through the tests. The reason he was failing most of his lessons wasn’t because he was stupid - far from it, he was very capable - but rather because he just couldn’t be bothered. He found no joy in working, no solace in the thought of going into the outside world and earning money, so he put the thoughts out of his mind as much as possible.

“Morning,” John’s dad chirps, looking up from his BlackBerry as John drags himself downstairs. John mumbles something in response. His cousin’s friendly face smiles at him from the dining room table, and John smiles slightly, ruffling Jades’ hair as he walks past.

“Breakfast?” he asks Kanaya, their housekeeper. It’s too early for him to form full sentences.

“On the table,” Kanaya says, pointing at the plate opposite Jade. John nods, flopping down in the leather chair opposite his cousin and resting his elbows on the glass table.

The Egbert family are well-off, and John knows it. His dad is CEO of a huge law firm, with shares in an overseas oil company to add to that. His nanna owns the baking company Betty Crocker, and they both make enough money in one year for them to cease working for a long while. They have houses in every corner of the globe, maids, cooks, everything they could need, but they enjoy working so they continue to do so, donating a huge chunk of their earnings to charities. They are the picture-perfect family.

But that’s where John comes in. John doesn’t fit in this picture-perfect family. John’s not a hard-working, driven son like the one they wish they’d raised. He’s a quiet, introverted, walking failure. He doesn’t try at school, doing the minimum to get half-decent grades. He doesn’t have any particular talents, besides the piano. He doesn't think he's much of a looker either, with his jet-black hair, his annoying buck teeth, his over-sized glasses, sky-blue eyes and lanky frame. He’s moody, quiet, never listens to anyone, never speaks to anyone and generally everything they don’t want in a child. He wishes they’d just give up on him, but even in their despairing they carry on trying to mould him into the person they wish he was. He just wants them to stop.

John scrapes his chair back from the table, scratching it across the marble floor just to aggravate his father. He looks up from his BlackBerry with a frown, but says nothing.

“I’m going,” John mumbles, pressing a swift kiss to Jade’s forehead. “Bye, Dad.”

“Have a good day!” he says cheerily, and John throws Jade a look. Good day. He’s more likely to come across a herd of buffaloes than have a good day.

Jade understands John’s exasperated glance, and grins back at him with a roll of her eyes. John smiles; he’s taught Jade well.

School’s not far away, luckily. Well, it would be, but John cuts through the garden of the house opposite to theirs and runs to the stream that runs along the bottom of it, jumps over the stream and cuts through yet another garden to avoid going the long route that would take a good half-hour to walk.

By the time he vaults over whoever’s fence it is and saunters casually up their driveway to the street it’s gone eight-thirty, meaning he’s late to school on his first day.

He doesn’t really care, though, and he continues his amble right through the huge oak doors of the old building.

“John Egbert?” the receptionist asks, looking at him over her glasses disapprovingly. “You’re late.”

“I know, I'm sorry,” John says.

“Not a good start,” she says distastefully. “Here’s your timetable. Go and find your locker, and then go to your first lesson.” John takes the yellow sheet of paper she shoves towards him with her manicured fingers, not even thanking her before walking into the corridor outside the reception.

His locker is in the Maths corridor, apparently. Which is no fucking help to him at all, as he doesn’t know where that is.

He’s just starting up the stairs when a yell startles him into swivelling around.

“Hey!” a girl calls, walking briskly through the corridor and coming to a stop at the bottom of the varnished mahogany stairs. She’s got short, platinum blonde hair, with a headband atop it. She has these breathtaking violet eyes, that sparkle when she talks. “Are you lost?” John nods, after a moment of hesitation.

“I’m Rose,” she says. “Where do you need to go?”

“John,” John says. “Maths corridor.” Rose nods and jogs up the stairs so she’s next to John.

“Right direction,” she says, and then she’s taking the steps two at a time and John has to practically sprint to keep up with her. John’s not unfit by anyone’s standards, but even he’s out of breath by the time the blur of his surroundings has turned into a paneled corridor with ugly metal lockers that are as small as they are incongruous.

“Here,” Rose says helpfully, opening a locker on the top row of lockers to reveal they’re even smaller on the inside than they look. It’s like a backwards TARDIS.

“How am I going to fit anything in there?” John asks in disbelief. Rose squints at him.

“What year are you in?” she asks.

“Eleven,” John asks, wondering why that matters. Rose shrugs and opens a few of the lockers around John’s, stuffed full of books and folders.

“You can use these too, then,” she says. John frowns.

“They’re already in use,” he points out.

“They’re Year Tens, you’re Year Eleven. They have to let you. School policy.” John has a strong feeling that it’s a student body policy rather than a school one, but chooses not to comment. He doesn’t need a locker anyway.

“I’ll pass,” he says. “How long until the end of first period?”

“Forty minutes,” Rose says, and John rolls his eyes. Just his luck. “What have you got?”

“Chemistry, Mr Makara,” John reads from the sheet. Rose snorts.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” she says sympathetically. “You’re going to fail your GCSE. He's probably one of the worst math teachers at this school.”

“Just what I need,” John mutters, pocketing his timetable. “Will you take me there?”

“Sure,” Rose says, hurrying off down the corridor. John groans as he sets off after her, following her through endless wooden and flagstone corridors until they skid to a halt outside a classroom.

“Here you go,” Rose says helpfully.

“Thanks,” John says awkwardly, unsure of what to say. Rose gives a patient smile.

“I shall be seeing you around, then, John?” she says, and John nods. He’s not planning on making any friends here; he’ll probably never speak to Rose again.

Rose retreats down the corridor at a fast speed and John strides into the classroom, not even knocking.

“John Egbert?” the teacher says, and John nods curtly. “Would you like to introduce yourself?”

“I don't think so,” John says bluntly. “Where do I sit?” The teacher, Mr Makara, clearly taken aback by John’s devil-may-care attitude, points to a lone seat in the back of the classroom.

“As I was saying, covalent bonds can be found in things like-” is all John hears before he zones out for the rest of the lesson.
-
John’s walking to his next lesson, trying to work out where EN6 is, when he bumps into someone who drops their books. He’s about to apologise and help the person pick them up, when-

“Pick them up.” The voice is hostile, cold, and John looks up from his timetable to come face to face with someone who looks like they could murder somebody. He’s got blonde hair swept across his face in a fringe, like Rose's, and his eyes are covered with a pair of aviator shades.

“How about some fucking manners?” John says coolly, and suddenly the entire corridor, bustling with students, freezes and turns to the conflict at hand. The boy stares at John for a good few moments, clearly trying to unnerve him, before he turns to two boys behind him.

“Cronus, Eridan,” the boy says, and the two other boys (presumably Cronus and Eridan) pick John up, one arm each, dragging him off down the corridor, much to everyone’s amusement. John grits his teeth; oh yes, how hilarious, the new boy is getting punished for not being a pushover. Fucking wonderful.

They turn into a store room that John would never have noticed otherwise and shove him inside, locking the door.

“Have fun getting out,” one of them calls casually, and they stride off without another word. John sighs, shrugging off his schoolbag and sitting on the floor with his back to the wall.

Just his fucking luck to get on the wrong side of the school’s psychotic bully.

He’s in there for what feels like days, picking at a loose thread on his skinny jeans, before he hears a key jiggling in the lock of the door and it clicks open, letting in a crack of light.

“John?” a female voice says.

“Yeah?” John replies, and the door swings open fully, hitting John square in the shin. John squints to adjust to the bright light burning his retinas, and realises Rose’s standing in the doorway.

“It’s the end of school,” Rose says apologetically, holding out a hand to help John to his feet. “I would have come earlier, but Dave…”

“Is that prick who got me locked in here your brother?” John asks.

“Who, Dave? Yes,” Rose says, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. John clenches his teeth.

“He’s a psychotic child-abuser,” he proclaims, and Rose shrugs.

“He’s my brother,” she says quietly, and John feels kind of bad. If anyone called Jade a psychotic child-abuser John would be right on their case.

“Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t-”

“No, it's alright,” Rose says with a dismissive wave. “Whatever. Anyway, you’re free now. Just please try not to cross Dave again. He doesn’t like backchat.”

“I don’t like blatant rudeness,” John says. “I’ll backchat him until he stops.”

“On your own head be it,” Rose shrugs, turning on her heel and heading off down the corridor. John curses under his breath. He doesn’t even know how to get to the exit in this maze of a school, so he settles for climbing out of a window and over the school fence, finding himself on the main road. Handy, that - next time he inevitably gets locked in there he’ll remember that.

He goes back the way he came, vaulting across fences and jumping over streams until he arrives on his street. He’s just ambling over to his house - by far the largest and most aesthetically pleasing - when he notices Rose getting out of a car down the road, ten or so houses down, followed by that Dave.

Fuck. His life just can’t get any worse.
-
His routine the next morning is much the same, except his dad's not home. He’s used to that, though - with a CEO of a huge law firm as his parent, he can hardly expect to spend a lot of time with him. He doesn’t want to, anyway, so it suits everybody.

“Do you like your new school?” Jade asks, holding a spoonful of cereal, when Kanaya bustles out of the room to make their beds. John shakes his head.

“I don’t like any school,” he says grimly. “School sucks, Jade.” Jade frowns.

“I’m going to be starting school again soon,” Jade says. She was homeschooled, but decided to resume school for her last year. “Will it suck for me too?”

“Nah,” John says, ruffling his cousin’s hair fondly. “You’ve got me.”

“Will you remind me to leave at the right time for school?” Jade asks cheekily, and John frowns.

“Er, if you want?” he says. Jade smiles sweetly.

“Because it’s already twenty-five past,” she says, and John stands up so quickly his chair falls backwards onto the floor. He doesn’t care, though, grabbing his schoolbag and running across gardens, over streams and fences and across roads to get to school.

He still gets there late, despite his best efforts. And to make matters worse, the first thing he sees when he walks through the wrought iron gates into the school building is Dave and his little posse swaggering down the corridor.

“Learned your lesson?” Dave asks, mouth turned down into a frown. John folds his arms and stands his ground. He’s not taking Dave’s shit just like everyone else does. He’s used to being the most hated person in the school; it won’t make any difference to him.

“The lesson of you being a prick? Yeah, I learnt that the second you opened your mouth,” John fires back, and the boys flanking Dave bristle dangerously. Dave makes no indication for them to hurt John, though, so they don’t move.

“You be careful,” Dave says after a moment, the flicker of a smirk present on his features. “It would be such a shame if you got yourself hurt.” With that he sweeps past in a manner that very much reminds John of Draco Malfoy, his little gang of Crabbes and Goyles following him as he goes. John shakes his head; nutters, the lot of them. Then again, they’re nutters who go through with their threats, so maybe John should tone it down a bit.

He wanders down a random corridor to his English lesson, finding it oddly familiar for some reason. He realises why when he hears someone yelling and rattling a doorknob; this is the corridor he ended up getting himself locked in yesterday.

“Hang on,” John calls, striding up to the door and trying the doorknob. It’s locked - obviously, otherwise the kid inside would have been able to get out. John swears under his breath - one of Dave’s goons will have the key.

Unless…

He’d been let out by Rose yesterday, right? And Rose seemed alright, even though she’s Dave’s sister. Maybe Rose will take pity. But the question now is where the fuck is Rose?

“I’m going to get you out,” John calls.

“That would be nice,” a sarcastic voice yells back. “You seem to be taking your time.”

“I don’t have a key, what do you want me to do?” John asks, a bit annoyed at the boy’s tone. “I know who does, though. I just don’t know where he is.”

“If you’re talking about Dave, I’ll pass,” the voice says. “Or Cronus. Or Eridan.”

“Relax,” John says. “I’m talking about Rose.”

“Oh,” the boy says. “She’s in MA1. Or, well, she should be. I doubt she is; she usually skips Maths. You’re more likely to find her in the library, or hurrying around through corridors.”

“I wish she’d hurry around into this corridor,” John mutters. “Where’s the library?”

“Down the stairs at the end of the corridor, take two lefts and a right,” the kid says, and John nods before realising the person can’t see him.

“I’ll be right back,” he promises, setting off at a jog down the corridor. He’s never going to find his way around this school, but it doesn’t really bother him – he’s not planning on spending much time in here anyway. What was it the kid said? Three lefts, then a right? Or was it two lefts, and two rights? One left and two rights? Fuck, John needs to actually listen to people.

He doesn’t even know why he’s going to such lengths to help this person. He doesn’t even know them – how can he, they’re locked in the room – yet he’s willing to run (run) to the library to find Dave’s sister and ask for the key for the weird little storage room. Maybe it’s just to get back at Dave for being such a dick for no apparent reason. Yeah, he decides. That’s it. And it’s probably going to land him in a lot of trouble.

He makes his way to the library eventually, and sure enough, Rose is sitting on a chair, reading a journal of some sort.

“Hey,” John calls. Rose whips around to see who it is, and her face splits into a huge grin.

“John, hello!” she slurs, and John has a feeling reading’s not all she’s been doing. John is surprised, he didn't picture someone as elegant as Rose to be one to get drunk. He's itching with the urge to join Rose, but he needs to get the boy out of the room.

“Do you have the key to that room?” John asks, making his way over. Rose frowns.

“I’m not supposed to give it to anyone,” she whispers, glancing from left to right as if someone is going to see them.

“I’ll give it back to you, I promise,” John says. “I just need to get someone out.”

“But…Dave…” Rose’s argument is faltering as her alcohol-riddled brain struggles to put two and two together. “Okay, fine. But…give it back, promise?”

“I promise,” John says, as Rose digs a key out of her pocket. “Thanks, Rose.” He hurries back off in the direction he came, throwing a quick glance at the clock in the library as he goes. He’s got about twenty minutes until first period ends – hopefully he can make it back to the corridor without getting lost before then.

In fact, he makes it back to the corridor in no time at all (figuratively speaking), taking all the right turns. He’s pretty pleased with himself for that.

“Hey,” he says, approaching the door to the room. “I got the key.”

“You did?” The person sounds surprised. “Dude, I thought you were just going to leave me. Most people do.”

“Well, you’re lucky I’m not most people then, aren’t you?” John says, unlocking the door with a click and pulling it open. A small, tanned kid tumbles out, and when he straightens up he barely reaches John’s shoulders. He grins up at him, shoving a baseball cap that was on the floor back on his short hair.

“I owe you one,” the boy says. “I’m Tavros, by the way.”

“John,” John says. Tavros frowns.

“I haven’t seen you around before,” he says. John grimaces.

“That’s because I started yesterday and spent the whole day in that fucking room,” he says, jerking his head towards the room Tavros’s just come out of. Tavros pulls a sympathetic face.

“What happened?” he asks. John sighs.

“Oh, I pissed Dave off by standing up to him,” he shrugs. “What did you deserve to get locked in there, anyway?” It’s Tavros’s turn to shrug.

“Dunno, man,” he says. “They just hate me. Maybe it’s cause I’m small, y’know, so they like to see what places they can fit me in.”

“Bastards,” John says, shaking his head.

“Yeah,” Tavros agrees vehemently. “Hey, do you want to hang out with us at break? I mean, you don’t have to, don’t feel obliged, but.” He breaks off, shrugging awkwardly. John smiles.

“Sure,” he says. This Tavros kid seems nice enough, right? Plus, maybe it’ll give him some protection against Dave and his cronies.