Tick. Tock.
Nathan tapped his pencil lightly against his wrist as the teacher droned on. Glancing around, he noted that none of his other classmates were paying attention to her. Katherine Hall, one of the school's divas, had her phone on her desk, texting away.
If the shit hit the fan, she'd probably be nothing more than a damsel in distress, he thought to himself, turning his gaze back to the oblivious teacher.
Eleanor Guciardo was as old as the hills outside, and rarely looked at her Public Speaking class as she taught them, which most of her students found ironic, considering that one of her strongest lessons was to always look at your audience. Dressed in black slacks and a navy blouse, Mrs. Guicardo attempted to look many years her junior, complete with heavy makeup and fake jewels.
Tearing his gaze from his vain teacher who liked the sound of her own voice, Nathan swept his gaze across the classroom. Michael Queen, football jock, muscular, dressed in designer clothes despite the school uniform. He was only allowed to do that because of his status as star of the football team and son of the man who all but owned the school.
A rather cruel bully, though he always left Nathan alone, due to past encounters. Michael was busy flicking small balls of paper at Keith Ingram.
Nathan frowned as he looked at Keith. Normally, the other eighteen-year-old studiously took notes, no matter what. If he wasn't taking notes, he was studying past notes or notes for another class or reading a textbook.
It wasn't him ignoring Michael that bothered Nathan – that much was normal. People often said that if you ignored a bully, the bully would get tired and leave them alone, but Nathan knew that wasn't true. Michael had harassed Keith for the last ten years, and never once got a reaction. Yet he still persisted, having made it his personal mission to finally draw one out of the nerd.
No, the thing that bothered Nathan was that Keith's left leg was jittering, his heel lightly but rapidly tapping the ground as the genius continued to check the time on both his watch and the clock hanging above the chalkboard their teacher was writing on.
Keith never bothered looking at the time. Nathan didn't even know why he had a watch, he always knew exactly what time it was without looking. And Keith never looked impatient, either.
Leaving that a mystery to ponder another time, Nathan looked around a bit more, his gaze focusing on his lifelong crush, Samantha Baxter. She was one of the only students at their school who knew his secrets, and after they graduated in a couple of months, they'd probably never see each other again, something he was glad for.
He knew the long, blond hair, bright green eyes, and flawless skin hid a body of steel, even if she had a decent pair on her chest. Samantha practiced martial arts almost from the time she could walk, though few students at the school knew about her talents. She didn't keep it a secret, she simply didn't flaunt it or talk about it unless it naturally came up in a conversation.
She also stood as one of the most popular students in their class, despite her tendency to simply read, such as right then. The book was likely one of her fantasy love stories – she was a sucker for those.
Tick. Tock.
Sighing, Nathan settled back in his seat and focused, tapping his pencil against his wrist. It wasn't something he chose to do, it was just something his body did when he got bored. Mrs. Guciardo was teaching them something 'new', which meant something she had already covered twice, minimum.
For that particular lesson, it was their sixth time that semester learning it.
Deciding to think about their upcoming speech, Nathan mentally began to sort through the various aspects of it. They had to do an argumentative speech on one of three subjects. A persuasive speech. Topic One: School uniforms. Topic Two: Polygamy. Topic Three: Standardized testing.
Already, Nathan knew he would be using Topic One for his topic. He didn't even need to talk to his other classmates to know that most of them would be doing the second or third topic. Their school, like every school in the area, used uniforms, and he knew most students didn't really think it was okay to dress out of them for school.
So he knew most wouldn't do the topic, giving him an edge over them. The speech grades were the one part of class that their teacher actually did well, and she graded them harshly. If Nathan did a topic few others did, he'd earn a higher score.
Plus, he knew he could weave a convincing argument. There was no restriction on which side of the argument he could be on, and he'd settle on the safe side of 'schools should have uniforms'. Not that he wouldn't give arguments for the other side – it was required for the speech – but he'd stand firmly in that they should stay as they are.
He didn't mind the uniform. White slacks and mandarin-collar jacket with a black button-up underneath and black shoes, socks, and belt. A black-and-white striped tie. The school's falcon crest on the left breast of the jacket and on the widest part of the tie. For girls, a plaid, black and white skirt was mandatory with black knee-high socks.
Their high school actually gave every student five of them, rather than making the students buy them. Five each year, of course, since students grow.
Not Nathan, who stood at 5'8" ever since he was twelve. Tall at first, then the low end of average in the end. He didn't mind not being tall, though – there were advantages to his size, including that it was easier for him to simply blend in.
Students also had the option of buying additional uniforms directly from the school, which typically happened if one needed more or outgrew theirs during the year. Nathan's current set came from his freshmen year.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
Suppressing a smile, Nathan thought that if they could, they'd even regulate the underwear color. Possibly even what type of underwear their students could wear.
Tick. Tock.
Of course, knowing the school, the underwear would probably have to be black, and they'd probably want all the boys wearing boxers or boxer-briefs, though Nathan figured it would probably be the former.
Part of the reason Nathan favored the idea of a uniform wasn't to make the students more 'standard', but because it made it less obvious who the poor students were, especially if the school supplied a set amount of them with the option to purchase more. Despite what people tried to claim, people would bully the poorer students, especially over clothes. It also kept richer students from flaunting how much they had.
It also kept down the amount of makeup students wore. Their school heavily regulated makeup usage on the students, and if they didn't, Nathan knew that Katherine would probably have a fair bit more than she currently did. Not as much as their teacher, who was exempt as a teacher, but enough to make her look 'pretty'.
Nathan's gaze traveled back to Samantha, who never used makeup, except as a light touch here or there. While most students wouldn't have noticed, Nathan could tell that she had used a little bit of it on her cheek.
Must be another sparring accident, he thought to himself.
Not for the first time, Nathan wondered who the new person at the dojo was that could beat her. The last person who could match her in skill stopped attending four years previously, and not even the sensei there could take her on.
They must be pretty talented.
Nathan's gaze traveled down to her smooth, fair legs, and quickly turned his gaze back to his pencil, which had continued to tap against his arm.
Another reason for having a uniform is to cut down on provocative outfits worn by both sexes, though Nathan knew that girls wore them more. The number of times he'd seen girls his age showing off their cleavage at other schools disturbed him. They'd wear an outfit drawing the eye to it, then get mad at a guy for glancing at it.
That said, showing the legs of a girl like the skirts do could also be detrimental. Pants for both sexes would be better, in his opinion. In addition, it'd also mean that fewer girls would be shaving their legs, something he was sure many of them disliked doing every day, but did for appearances' sake.
In general, having the uniform would also cut down on prep time for school every day. No need to pick out the perfect outfit or do shaving of legs or added makeup and such. So there's that benefit as well, even if it's mostly on the female side.
On the flipside of the argument, Nathan knew that it also could be considered an attack on individual creativity.
Tick. Tock.
Having a set uniform restricts students' ability to express themselves through their outfits, even if it did prevent provocative or distracting outfits and makeup. It's one of the least-harmful canvasses for it for their bodies and the environment.
Well, as long as the clothes are made in a sustainable and safe way, Nathan added to that thought as his gaze returend to Keith. Why is he so impatient?
The nerd's frequent checking of his watch had increased, dropping down to every few seconds, rather than every minute or so. The period still had another fifteen minutes to its end, so it shouldn't be that, right?
It certainly wasn't the speech, he was the only person Nathan knew who would score a perfect on it. Despite being an antisocial nerd, Keith performed exceptionally well on their speeches, creating a small mystery about him. One of many that caused all bullies save Michael to leave him alone.
He would likely do the same topic as Nathan. The two of them nearly always did the same speeches, and they usually scored similarly. Lately, Mrs. Guciardo had taken to putting their speeches back-to-back as well.
Nathan wondered if she'd do that for the next speech as well. The one after the persuasive speech was an instructional speech, where the students would teach the rest of the class how to do something while simultaneously demonstrating how to perform it.
He had no doubt that Samantha would do something related to martial arts; either a warmup of some sort or a series of katas or individual moves. Possibly even something as simple as the proper method of putting on the gi.
Michael would likely do something related to football and receive a barely-passing score, but only because of his skill at football. Most teachers refused to give him his actual grades because of his talent, and so let him pass, if only barely, whenever he should have failed. Odds were, it would be a speech on how to properly throw a ball.
Katherine, Nathan knew, would do makeup and how to properly put it on oneself or another. She wasn't the only one, though Nathan knew she'd be the victim of the other person, who likely no one else in the class knew did makeup. Professionally.
Nathan turned his gaze to Madeline Turner. Her brown hair had been turned into a tight, high ponytail, which rested over her right shoulder and breast, her green eyes fix squarely on Keith's back, her lips turned down in an all-too-obvious frown.
Tick. Tock.
That piqued Nathan's curiosity, as Madeline never indicated before that she ever had any sort of interest in Keith. In fact, it seemed to Nathan as if she refused to even acknowledge his existence, the way she'd simply ignore him or zone out during his speeches instead favoring her doodles, typically one makeup style or another she either worked on or wanted to do.
Her own style of makeup was different than Katherine's. With Katherine's style of makeup, one could look prettier or 'better', cover up flaws, and such. Madeline could do that, too, but she specialized in makeup to change one's appearance, and it was showcased in plays and productions that she helped out with over the last few years.
Knowing her, Nathan knew that she would probably convince Katherine to help her by saying she was doing makeup as well. Katherine, being the diva she was, would either do her best to have an awful face during it or expect to naturally do better than Madeline.
Tick. Tock.
Then when she sees the result, she'd be horrified, both at what was done to her and at her new face. It would either be that of someone who went through a terrible accident or a zombie whose flesh was rotting off.
Madeline would end up scoring higher for that. She not only did it professionally, but did it well, and having convinced the victim of her design to be a willing victim would earn her a little bit of bonus.
Nathan's thoughts traveled off as he contemplated what he would do. He did his best to stay out of the light and had few talents he was willing to show off. Doing a topic rarely done for extra points was fine in his book, but to show some of his talents-
Nathan frowned, looking over at Keith, who had stopped tapping his foot against the ground and had begun to stare intently at his watch, an expectant look on his face as he mouthed a countdown. Nathan wasn't sure what Keith was expecting to happen, it was only 2:48:13, yet he was counting down from ten, already on four.
Why did Keith seem to think something would happen seven minutes before the school's-end bell rang?
As intently as Madeline had been for the last several minutes, Nathan watched as Keith's countdown reached zero.
Tick.