fandomhigh | How To Get By In A Hostile World, Wednesday

It was a miracle Atton was even here. He'd been sincerely tempted to stay in bed this morning and let Sparkle do all the work, but... some stupid sense of duty he didn't even realize he had anymore had kicked in and now he was standing in front of the class, looking casual because that was about all he could manage right now.

"...Welcome to We-- I mean, How To Get By In A Hostile World," he drawled. "My name is Atton Rand, I used to go to school here, so don't think I don't know what I'm talking about. Okay. If you're in this class, it's probably because you're from somewhere terrifying where you're not exactly on top of the food chain. That may mean being an unpowered person in a world full of near-gods, or somebody who has powers but not exactly the kind that'll shake the world, or maybe you're just some poor schmuck living at the bottom end trying to get by."

Beat.

"Of course, if you're just here to show off how special you are, you can get out. Now."

Another beat. He waited for anyone to get up.

"...Okay, good. Anyway, I have powers now, but I didn't use to - or at least I didn't have the training so I might as well not have had them. Growing up, there was war all around us, and the people who actually had the powers to stop it decided to sit at home and twiddle their thumbs because the situation was quote-unquote 'complicated'. I've seen worlds burn and friends die."

He took a deep breath. He needed it to keep playing casual. "The only way I made it through the first decade or so of being on my own was by thinking on my feet," he said. "Exploring the weaknesses of people stronger than me, figuring out how to squeak by unnoticed, that kind of thing. So that's the stuff we'll be covering."

Atton nodded at a random student. "Talk to me," he said. "Who are you? What situation are you facing? What are you hoping to get out of this class? That kind of thing. Introductions are useful here, because a technique is only helpful if it's tailored to your actual situation."

He planted his ass on his desk. "Oh, and that guy over there with the stupid hair? That's Sparkle. He'll be your TA. If you have any stupid questions, take them to him." You're welcome, Sparkle.

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With stupid questions.

Blah, blah day one.

At least Atton isn't getting you shot at.

... This week.

Y'know, the guy with the funny hair.

Who doesn't seem to care that he has a chair.

Evangeline Greene

Well, yesterday's class was normal. This one decidedly was not. Powers? Near-god? Worlds burning?

Maybe Mr. Rand had used to go to school here because he was crazy and now was back because he couldn't hack it in the outside world? But, then, why was he teaching a class? And it was a legitimate class; or, rather, it was on her schedule and looked like it was supposed to be a legitimate class.

Also, how old was this guy? He looked barely older than she did.

Evie was raising her hand. "Excuse me? Were you the original teacher assigned to this class?"

Evie was still giving Atton dubious looks when she made her introduction. "I'm Evangeline Greene, but I go by Evie. The only situation I'm facing is that I'm not home, where I belong."

She wasn't even having hallucinations anymore! The only thing standing between her life and perfection was that she wasn't in Sterling with all of her friends.

"I didn't sign up for it, my doc--someone else did. I think maybe they thought it would teach some kind of coping techniques or something for when life got tough?" As it could for the life of the rich and pretty.

"Oh, look, we have our first stupid question," Atton said. Why had he consented to work with teenagers again? "Yes, I am. Actually, I wasn't assigned it, I suggested it."

"Wow, rude much?" Evie asked, turning bright red anyway and slinking down in her seat. "I'm just trying to figure out what online university gave you your certifications."

Or had the bachelor's from clown college carried over?

"My qualifications are over ten years of living in places so hostile most people in this room would crap themselves," Atton said. "Which, trust me, is a lot more qualification than most of your teachers are going to have. Now shut up."

He was having a bad month.

"Well, it does, but if this island's the worst you got--"

Atton threw a glance Sparkle's way ~~if he was there~~. "...Good luck."

For a moment, Evie did exactly what he said, shocked that he'd spoken to her in such a manner. No teacher she'd ever had and very few students she'd ever met have ever spoken to her in such a manner.

"Well, I'll be..." she muttered under her breath once she'd gotten over her confusion. "I'm sure the Maryland Board of Education would be super impressed with those ten years."

"You, sir," she sneered, "don't know a single thing about the worst I've ever seen. But bless your heart for caring."

Oooh. Sick Southern buuurn.

Atton rolled his eyes. "I asked you a question about the worst," he said, "If you lie about it, that's not my problem, it's yours."

Florescent bulbs crackling twenty-four hours a day. The soft scuffle of paper-clad feet outside of the doors, following behind the high-pitched squeal of ancient wheels and the soft clatter of instruments hitting a metal surface. The soft weeping of her roommate as she gave in to the siren song of a plastic spork. The disconnected laughter with no punchline.

The slow realization that the laughter was coming from you.

Evie blinked once of twice, breaking free of the memory's hold and hiding her shaking hands under her desk. Yeah, that wasn't something she was going to share with this guy. Those memories weren't something she'd share with anyone. Not her friends, who'd start looking at her like she was something to pity, and certainly not her mom, who'd been the one to send her there.

So instead, she plastered on a fake smile and chirped in her heaviest Louisiana accent. "You're right. I'd probably have to say the worst thing I ever faced was finding out they'd ordered my cotillion dress in a bright orange instead of the color I'd specified. That dress was just plum hideous!"

Mara Jade

"I'm Mara Jade," Mara said, "and I'm from Imperial Center, where I'm one of the Imperial dancers. I'm surrounded by very powerful people who are playing a very dangerous political game and I don't want to end up squashed like a mynock on a snubfighter." She opened big green eyes to stare imploringly at Atton. "I'm hoping this class can help."

Might be pouring it on a little thick there, Mara.

Atton had had a pretty damned good internal sensor for lying back before he'd gotten Force-trained; it didn't exactly take a lot for him to figure she was hiding something.

But you know what? She was a pain in the ass, and he really didn't care. Like he'd said, her problem.

He rolled his eyes at her and moved on to the next one.

Juuust a bit. What was it with everybody in his class lying to him? "Aren't you a little young to be a dancer?" Atton asked. "I mean, I've seen plenty of them, and they're usually at least old enough to fly."

Please, Mara. He'd invented that approach.

Hey, Sparkle's stupid hair was fantastic, Atton. And he was here in case anybody had any questions for him. Or just wanted to shoot the shit. Or whatever.

Sparkle

Garik Loran

Sparkle was side-eyeing Evie a little, mostly just looking smug. Ah, yes, there was the spoiled brat of a rich kid coming out. He'd have to smack her upside the back of the head later.

Or quietly and maybe sadistically just wait for her class with Pam and Cheryl.

"Sparkle, like Atton said," he announced once his turn came around. "Queer street kid from Toronto, history of getting in trouble with the cops, pretty sure I've been fucked over by coming to this place, but I graduate in a year so I guess we'll see."

The Sparknotes version. Atton already knew it, and he didn't particularly give a shit if his classmates had all the details, so.

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How To Get By In A Hostile World, Wednesday

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