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perpetual_motionTitle: Unorganized Snapshots of Prep School Life: Mike Cutter Meets his Roommates [1/?]
Author: Perpetual Motion
Fandom: Law & Order
Pairings [Green/Lupo, Cutter/McCoy, Cutter/Rubirosa]
Rating: PG-13 for this section.
Universe: High School AU, because why the fuck not?
Summary: Mike Cutter arrives at Manhattan Prep.
Disclaimer: Bullshit, lies, and obsfucation. What's not to love?
Author's Notes: As per the usual, some credit for this goes to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
amazonqueenkate, who was chatting with me when I laid down the basics. Mike Cutter, in high school, was probably an awkward kid, and the only person who really got him was his mock trial coach, Mr. McCoy. If you're not connecting the dots yet, you may want to get off the trolley. In short: High School AU, because it can be done.
Unorganized Snapshots of Prep School Life: Mike Cutter Meets his Roommates [1/?]
By Perpetual Motion
Headmistress Van Buren is imposing, to say the least. She sits behind her desk like she’s going to call down judgment on Mike, his family, and every last boyhood sin he’s committed. Mike’s not really religious, but with Headmistress Van Buren slowly flipping through his records like she may actually be reading them, he considers conversion.
”Mr. Cutter,” she says, as she looks at his school records. “Eight schools in eleven years. I think that’s a record.”
“My folks move a lot,” Mike says, stuttering just slightly. “And-and my mom thought it might be time to try something different.”
“So you chose Manhattan Prep.”
“My mom did, yeah.” Mike clenches his fingers against the material of his school-issued black pants and tries to match Van Buren’s stare. He blinks first. “It’s a nice campus.”
“Thank you.” Van Buren stands and gestures Mike to do so as well. “You’ll be staying in a three-person suite in Schiff Hall.” She leads the way out of the office and outside, heading left towards the squat brick buildings that Mike knows are the dorms. “I’m putting you with Cyrus Lupo and Ed Green. Their previous roommate just transferred to another school.”
“Okay,” Mike says, because he feels like he should say something. He watches a group of people walk by, all his age, all dressed like him in black pants and a white shirt and a maroon sweater. “There are girls on this campus, right?”
Van Buren smirks and jerks a thumb in the opposite direction. “Across the quad and after a forest of alligators.”
“Oh.” Mike feels embarrassed and isn’t sure why. “But they’re in classes with us and stuff, right?”
“Yes, Mr. Cutter.” Van Buren opens the door to the dormitory and takes a left for the stairs. “You’ll see the ladies in classes, at meals, and in all of the academic buildings on campus. They will not, however, be tolerated if found in your room or if you are found in theirs. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Van Buren smiles at him in a way that’s almost motherly. “Excellent.” She stops halfway down the second floor corridor, room 27, and knocks on a door that has a whiteboard and construction paper decorations. The door opens to a slightly gangly boy with curly brown hair and an untucked shirt. His eyes go wide at the sight of Van Buren, and he hustles to make himself presentable.
“Relax, Mr. Lupo,” Van Buren says amusedly. “I’m just dropping off your new roommate.”
The boy pauses, shirt half-tucked, and then untucks it again. “Okay.” He gives Mike a little smile. “Hi. I’m Cyrus.” He steps aside to let Mike and Van Buren in. “Ed’s out right now. He has baseball practice.”
“I’m sure you can get Mr. Cutter settled on your own.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Van Buren nods and closes the door as she leaves. Cyrus smiles at Mike again and leans against an armchair. “What’s your name?”
“Mike.”
“Hey, Mike.”
Mike grins. “Hey.”
“So,” Cyrus waves a hand to encompass the room at large. “This is the palace.”
‘The palace’ is a smallish sitting area with two armchairs, a couch, and a slightly battered coffee table. There’s a television hooked up to a DVD player and a couple of game systems, and Mike can see through a half-open door, a messy bedroom. “Where’s my room?”
“On the end,” Cyrus points to a closed door. The middle door is also closed but is decorated with a few Polaroids and a magnet board. Mike’s door is bare, save half of an old sticker above the doorknob. “Ed’s is the middle room. He snores. You get used to it.”
“Okay.” Mike walks over to the door to his room and lets himself in. The bed is unmade, but there are sheets and a blanket folded at the foot. The trunk his dad had dragged from the car is sitting in the middle of the floor, and there’s a desk and a closet. It’s bright and scrubbed clean, and Mike feels ungodly lonely for just a minute.
“We have dinner at six.” Cyrus leans against Mike’s door and looks into the room. “It’s taco night. They’re pretty good.”
It’s a thinly veiled attempt to make Mike feels better, and he knows it. He’s been the new kid more than he cares to remember, and he knows that falsely caring tone. He turns around to tell Cyrus as much, but he’s met with a genuine smile, and that’s a change. “Tacos?”
“Yeah.”
Mike shrugs. “I like tacos.”
“Cool. I’ll let you unpack.”
“Okay.” Mike looks around the room again, shrugs at the space in general, and starts making his bed. He unpacks his trunk and stows it in the closet, and when he looks around the room, it looks a little less bland if no more personable. He walks back into the sitting area and flops into an armchair. Cyrus is playing Halo, cursing under his breath and twitching every time he takes a shot.
“Hey,” he says as he presses back into the couch and curses again.
“Hey,” Mike says because he figures it’s expected. He watches Cyrus play for a few minutes before asking, “So what now?”
“Now we dick around.” Cyrus hits pause on his controller and tosses it on the coffee table. “It’s Sunday, but it’s not a city weekend, and you don’t have any extra-curriculars yet.” Cyrus laughs a little when Mike twists his face in disgust. “Yeah, I know.”
“I can’t believe they’re mandatory.” Mike sinks deeper into his chair. “I mean, who does that?”
“Ivy prep schools,” Cyrus says matter-of-factly. “And, for the record, hall monitor counts as extra-curricular.”
Mike raises his eyebrows. “Yeah?”
“I don’t play well with others.” Cyrus says it with a self-deprecating grin. “Van Buren found a loophole.” He leans back into the couch and puts his feet on the coffee table. “So, you here because you want to be or because you got dumped?”
The sudden change in conversation makes Mike stutter around for words. “I…um…what?”
“Everyone’s either here because it makes their transcripts look good or mommy and daddy don’t have time for junior. Which one are you?”
Mike’s not really sure. “I don’t know. My parents move around a lot for my dad’s job, but they didn’t, like, dump me here.”
“Lucky you.” Cyrus shrugs at Mike’s look. “My parents suck.”
“Oh,” and Mike can’t think of anything else. He wonders if he’s coming off just as awkward as he feels.
There’s a mildly weird pause, and then Cyrus tosses Mike a controller. “Come on, it’s more fun to play if someone’s actually trying to kill you.”
Mike settles on the other end of the couch from Cyrus to get a better view of the television, and then he loses track of time as he and Cyrus try repeatedly to kill each other in various and insane ways. He’s just managed to needle-gun Cyrus to death for a second time when the main door flies open and a tall, rangy boy with loam-colored skin tumbles into the room, a bat, ball, and mitt in a net bag going flying across the room.
“I’m home!” He announces with a grin and only pauses half a second at the sight of Mike. “New kid!” He holds out his hand. “Ed Green.”
“Mike Cutter.” Mike shakes his hand and feels completely overwhelmed.
“Lup! Move it!” Ed flops next to Cyrus and steals the controller from his hand. “What level are we on?”
“Needlers,” Cyrus says, his voice suddenly much softer and more nervous than it had been just a few minutes before. “Mike just killed me.”
“Pussy,” Ed says with affection and hits the button to restart the level. “Bring it, Cutter. I will own your ass.”
Mike blinks a few times and clicks to restart his half of the screen. “Okay.” There’s something about Ed that seems to take over the room, and it makes Mike itch a little. He pauses his half of the screen to peel out of his sweater.
“Wondered how long that would take,” Cyrus says, but it’s with a grin. “Those things are fucking annoying.”
“At least we don’t have to wear ties,” Ed counters, then whoops when he manages to kill Mike. “Suck that, Cutter!”
“Hey! No fair! I was paused!”
“All’s fair in love and Halo. You pause, you die!” Ed jumps up and does a victory dance in front of the television. It involves a lot of hip thrusting.
“Does he do this all the time?”
Cyrus snorts at the trepidation in Mike’s tone. “Nah. Just after prac-omph!” He’s tackled by Ed and knocked to the floor, and they’re wrestling as Cyrus flips Ed so that he’s on the bottom.
Mike can’t do anything but watch and lift his feet when they get too close. He wonders if he should be saying something or if that would make him a buzzkill, and it’s only when they bounce off the Xbox do they finally slow down. Mike watches them as they lay side-by-side on the floor and gasp at one another, grinning. Mike wonders if that’s what it’s like to have a friend. He’s moved around so much friends were hard to keep.
“Dinner?” Ed says when he finally levels himself off the floor. “I’m starved.” He reaches down a hand and pulls Cyrus to his feet. “C’mon, Lup. Grab your shoes and let’s go.”
“Gimmie a sec. I gotta tuck in my shirt.”
“Wouldn’t want Van Buren to catch you unclean.” Ed ducks the swat Cyrus aims at his head and gives Mike a wide, slightly disorienting grin. “He has a thing for Van Buren.”
“I do not!” Cyrus yells from his bedroom. “Just because I’m not always trying to get one over on her doesn’t mean I have a crush!”
‘He so does,’ Ed mouths to Mike.
Mike feels himself smiling and decides that Ed’s not so bad. Mike’s just not used to being around someone with so much energy.
Cyrus comes out of his room, shoes on, shirt tucked, and hair combed. He glares when Ed points. “Shaddup.”
“Touch-e. Someone needs food.” Ed slings an arm around Cyrus’s shoulder and turns to look at Mike. “You comin’ man? You gotta sit with someone. Might as well be us.”
“I’m coming,” Mike says and follows them out the door and over to the mess hall. It’s already a quarter full, and Mike falls into line after Ed and Cyrus, taking what they take and grabbing an extra slice of pie when he walks by the dessert cart. They sit at a round table that’s already had a couple of chairs pulled away to other groups, and Mike looks around and tries to gauge the room.
“We don’t really have cliques here,” Ed says when he notices Mike looking around. “It’s hard to be superior when everyone’s a nerd.”
Cyrus rolls his eyes and eats a few bits of lettuce that have fallen off his taco. “Says Mr. Popular.”
“Hey, no one forced you to be law and order guy. You volunteered for hall monitor duty.”
“What’s that?” Mike asks, pointing to the only square table in the whole cafeteria. It’s populated with a dozen adults, all of them chatting with one another.
“Staff table,” Ed says as he leans across Mike for the hot sauce. “They’re okay, for teachers.”
“Munch,” Cyrus points to a very thin man with close-cropped gray hair and dark glasses, “teaches history. He’s a wacko.”
“An entertaining wacko,” Ed clarifies. “The guy next to him is Coach Fin.” Coach Fin is a broad man with a pockmarked face and a ponytail. “He teaches boys’ gym and coaches the swim team. And the guy next to him is Mr. Goren. He’s the English teacher.”
“Also a wacko,” Cyrus says. “And really twitchy, but you get used to it.”
Mike watches as Goren nearly fumbles his water glass. “If you say so.”
“Seriously, give it two weeks, and you barely notice,” Ed says reassuringly. “And the woman next to him is Nurse Rogers. Word to the wise, she doesn’t give you aspirin if she thinks you’re hung over.”
Mike gets the feeling Ed knows from experience. “I’ll make a note,” he says instead of asking.
Cyrus points to the other end of the table to a white-haired man with a slightly bulbous nose and a fancy-looking tie. “Mr. Fontana teaches math. He likes trick questions.”
“But he’s not a wacko.” Ed grins when Cyrus sticks out his tongue. “Mature.”
“Shaddup.”
Ed waves him off. “The guy next to Fontana is Mr. Briscoe. He’s the music teacher.”
“Band or choir?” Mike asks because he feels like they should know he’s paying attention.
“Both,” Ed says. “And the guy next to him is Mr. McCoy. He teaches Poli Sci and runs the mock trial team. Mr. Stone, the science teacher,” Ed points to a man walking to the staff table, bald with wire rimmed glasses, “used to run it, but he gave it up to Mr. McCoy a couple of years ago. Apparently the students like Mr. McCoy better.”
“He lets you cuss in the mock trial room,” Cyrus explains.
“Cool,” Mike says and watches the way Mr. McCoy talks to Headmistress Van Buren. He’s leaning in close and smiling, and Mike notices the beginnings of crows’ feet around his eyes. “I always wanted to do mock trial.”
Cyrus’s eyebrows go up. “Really?”
Mike stares at his plate and feels himself blushing. “Yeah.”
“Cool,” Cyrus says and seems to mean it. “I thought about it, but I just like the hall monitor gig better.”
“He gets to bust cheerleaders when they’re late for class,” Ed says, grinning. “It’s a perk.”
Mike and Cyrus laugh, and the conversation turns to non-staff related topics. It’s only after dinner, when Mike is sitting in his room and flipping through his new textbooks that he realizes he’d had a nice time.
Part Two
Author: Perpetual Motion
Fandom: Law & Order
Pairings [Green/Lupo, Cutter/McCoy, Cutter/Rubirosa]
Rating: PG-13 for this section.
Universe: High School AU, because why the fuck not?
Summary: Mike Cutter arrives at Manhattan Prep.
Disclaimer: Bullshit, lies, and obsfucation. What's not to love?
Author's Notes: As per the usual, some credit for this goes to
amazonqueenkate, who was chatting with me when I laid down the basics. Mike Cutter, in high school, was probably an awkward kid, and the only person who really got him was his mock trial coach, Mr. McCoy. If you're not connecting the dots yet, you may want to get off the trolley. In short: High School AU, because it can be done.Unorganized Snapshots of Prep School Life: Mike Cutter Meets his Roommates [1/?]
By Perpetual Motion
Headmistress Van Buren is imposing, to say the least. She sits behind her desk like she’s going to call down judgment on Mike, his family, and every last boyhood sin he’s committed. Mike’s not really religious, but with Headmistress Van Buren slowly flipping through his records like she may actually be reading them, he considers conversion.
”Mr. Cutter,” she says, as she looks at his school records. “Eight schools in eleven years. I think that’s a record.”
“My folks move a lot,” Mike says, stuttering just slightly. “And-and my mom thought it might be time to try something different.”
“So you chose Manhattan Prep.”
“My mom did, yeah.” Mike clenches his fingers against the material of his school-issued black pants and tries to match Van Buren’s stare. He blinks first. “It’s a nice campus.”
“Thank you.” Van Buren stands and gestures Mike to do so as well. “You’ll be staying in a three-person suite in Schiff Hall.” She leads the way out of the office and outside, heading left towards the squat brick buildings that Mike knows are the dorms. “I’m putting you with Cyrus Lupo and Ed Green. Their previous roommate just transferred to another school.”
“Okay,” Mike says, because he feels like he should say something. He watches a group of people walk by, all his age, all dressed like him in black pants and a white shirt and a maroon sweater. “There are girls on this campus, right?”
Van Buren smirks and jerks a thumb in the opposite direction. “Across the quad and after a forest of alligators.”
“Oh.” Mike feels embarrassed and isn’t sure why. “But they’re in classes with us and stuff, right?”
“Yes, Mr. Cutter.” Van Buren opens the door to the dormitory and takes a left for the stairs. “You’ll see the ladies in classes, at meals, and in all of the academic buildings on campus. They will not, however, be tolerated if found in your room or if you are found in theirs. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Van Buren smiles at him in a way that’s almost motherly. “Excellent.” She stops halfway down the second floor corridor, room 27, and knocks on a door that has a whiteboard and construction paper decorations. The door opens to a slightly gangly boy with curly brown hair and an untucked shirt. His eyes go wide at the sight of Van Buren, and he hustles to make himself presentable.
“Relax, Mr. Lupo,” Van Buren says amusedly. “I’m just dropping off your new roommate.”
The boy pauses, shirt half-tucked, and then untucks it again. “Okay.” He gives Mike a little smile. “Hi. I’m Cyrus.” He steps aside to let Mike and Van Buren in. “Ed’s out right now. He has baseball practice.”
“I’m sure you can get Mr. Cutter settled on your own.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Van Buren nods and closes the door as she leaves. Cyrus smiles at Mike again and leans against an armchair. “What’s your name?”
“Mike.”
“Hey, Mike.”
Mike grins. “Hey.”
“So,” Cyrus waves a hand to encompass the room at large. “This is the palace.”
‘The palace’ is a smallish sitting area with two armchairs, a couch, and a slightly battered coffee table. There’s a television hooked up to a DVD player and a couple of game systems, and Mike can see through a half-open door, a messy bedroom. “Where’s my room?”
“On the end,” Cyrus points to a closed door. The middle door is also closed but is decorated with a few Polaroids and a magnet board. Mike’s door is bare, save half of an old sticker above the doorknob. “Ed’s is the middle room. He snores. You get used to it.”
“Okay.” Mike walks over to the door to his room and lets himself in. The bed is unmade, but there are sheets and a blanket folded at the foot. The trunk his dad had dragged from the car is sitting in the middle of the floor, and there’s a desk and a closet. It’s bright and scrubbed clean, and Mike feels ungodly lonely for just a minute.
“We have dinner at six.” Cyrus leans against Mike’s door and looks into the room. “It’s taco night. They’re pretty good.”
It’s a thinly veiled attempt to make Mike feels better, and he knows it. He’s been the new kid more than he cares to remember, and he knows that falsely caring tone. He turns around to tell Cyrus as much, but he’s met with a genuine smile, and that’s a change. “Tacos?”
“Yeah.”
Mike shrugs. “I like tacos.”
“Cool. I’ll let you unpack.”
“Okay.” Mike looks around the room again, shrugs at the space in general, and starts making his bed. He unpacks his trunk and stows it in the closet, and when he looks around the room, it looks a little less bland if no more personable. He walks back into the sitting area and flops into an armchair. Cyrus is playing Halo, cursing under his breath and twitching every time he takes a shot.
“Hey,” he says as he presses back into the couch and curses again.
“Hey,” Mike says because he figures it’s expected. He watches Cyrus play for a few minutes before asking, “So what now?”
“Now we dick around.” Cyrus hits pause on his controller and tosses it on the coffee table. “It’s Sunday, but it’s not a city weekend, and you don’t have any extra-curriculars yet.” Cyrus laughs a little when Mike twists his face in disgust. “Yeah, I know.”
“I can’t believe they’re mandatory.” Mike sinks deeper into his chair. “I mean, who does that?”
“Ivy prep schools,” Cyrus says matter-of-factly. “And, for the record, hall monitor counts as extra-curricular.”
Mike raises his eyebrows. “Yeah?”
“I don’t play well with others.” Cyrus says it with a self-deprecating grin. “Van Buren found a loophole.” He leans back into the couch and puts his feet on the coffee table. “So, you here because you want to be or because you got dumped?”
The sudden change in conversation makes Mike stutter around for words. “I…um…what?”
“Everyone’s either here because it makes their transcripts look good or mommy and daddy don’t have time for junior. Which one are you?”
Mike’s not really sure. “I don’t know. My parents move around a lot for my dad’s job, but they didn’t, like, dump me here.”
“Lucky you.” Cyrus shrugs at Mike’s look. “My parents suck.”
“Oh,” and Mike can’t think of anything else. He wonders if he’s coming off just as awkward as he feels.
There’s a mildly weird pause, and then Cyrus tosses Mike a controller. “Come on, it’s more fun to play if someone’s actually trying to kill you.”
Mike settles on the other end of the couch from Cyrus to get a better view of the television, and then he loses track of time as he and Cyrus try repeatedly to kill each other in various and insane ways. He’s just managed to needle-gun Cyrus to death for a second time when the main door flies open and a tall, rangy boy with loam-colored skin tumbles into the room, a bat, ball, and mitt in a net bag going flying across the room.
“I’m home!” He announces with a grin and only pauses half a second at the sight of Mike. “New kid!” He holds out his hand. “Ed Green.”
“Mike Cutter.” Mike shakes his hand and feels completely overwhelmed.
“Lup! Move it!” Ed flops next to Cyrus and steals the controller from his hand. “What level are we on?”
“Needlers,” Cyrus says, his voice suddenly much softer and more nervous than it had been just a few minutes before. “Mike just killed me.”
“Pussy,” Ed says with affection and hits the button to restart the level. “Bring it, Cutter. I will own your ass.”
Mike blinks a few times and clicks to restart his half of the screen. “Okay.” There’s something about Ed that seems to take over the room, and it makes Mike itch a little. He pauses his half of the screen to peel out of his sweater.
“Wondered how long that would take,” Cyrus says, but it’s with a grin. “Those things are fucking annoying.”
“At least we don’t have to wear ties,” Ed counters, then whoops when he manages to kill Mike. “Suck that, Cutter!”
“Hey! No fair! I was paused!”
“All’s fair in love and Halo. You pause, you die!” Ed jumps up and does a victory dance in front of the television. It involves a lot of hip thrusting.
“Does he do this all the time?”
Cyrus snorts at the trepidation in Mike’s tone. “Nah. Just after prac-omph!” He’s tackled by Ed and knocked to the floor, and they’re wrestling as Cyrus flips Ed so that he’s on the bottom.
Mike can’t do anything but watch and lift his feet when they get too close. He wonders if he should be saying something or if that would make him a buzzkill, and it’s only when they bounce off the Xbox do they finally slow down. Mike watches them as they lay side-by-side on the floor and gasp at one another, grinning. Mike wonders if that’s what it’s like to have a friend. He’s moved around so much friends were hard to keep.
“Dinner?” Ed says when he finally levels himself off the floor. “I’m starved.” He reaches down a hand and pulls Cyrus to his feet. “C’mon, Lup. Grab your shoes and let’s go.”
“Gimmie a sec. I gotta tuck in my shirt.”
“Wouldn’t want Van Buren to catch you unclean.” Ed ducks the swat Cyrus aims at his head and gives Mike a wide, slightly disorienting grin. “He has a thing for Van Buren.”
“I do not!” Cyrus yells from his bedroom. “Just because I’m not always trying to get one over on her doesn’t mean I have a crush!”
‘He so does,’ Ed mouths to Mike.
Mike feels himself smiling and decides that Ed’s not so bad. Mike’s just not used to being around someone with so much energy.
Cyrus comes out of his room, shoes on, shirt tucked, and hair combed. He glares when Ed points. “Shaddup.”
“Touch-e. Someone needs food.” Ed slings an arm around Cyrus’s shoulder and turns to look at Mike. “You comin’ man? You gotta sit with someone. Might as well be us.”
“I’m coming,” Mike says and follows them out the door and over to the mess hall. It’s already a quarter full, and Mike falls into line after Ed and Cyrus, taking what they take and grabbing an extra slice of pie when he walks by the dessert cart. They sit at a round table that’s already had a couple of chairs pulled away to other groups, and Mike looks around and tries to gauge the room.
“We don’t really have cliques here,” Ed says when he notices Mike looking around. “It’s hard to be superior when everyone’s a nerd.”
Cyrus rolls his eyes and eats a few bits of lettuce that have fallen off his taco. “Says Mr. Popular.”
“Hey, no one forced you to be law and order guy. You volunteered for hall monitor duty.”
“What’s that?” Mike asks, pointing to the only square table in the whole cafeteria. It’s populated with a dozen adults, all of them chatting with one another.
“Staff table,” Ed says as he leans across Mike for the hot sauce. “They’re okay, for teachers.”
“Munch,” Cyrus points to a very thin man with close-cropped gray hair and dark glasses, “teaches history. He’s a wacko.”
“An entertaining wacko,” Ed clarifies. “The guy next to him is Coach Fin.” Coach Fin is a broad man with a pockmarked face and a ponytail. “He teaches boys’ gym and coaches the swim team. And the guy next to him is Mr. Goren. He’s the English teacher.”
“Also a wacko,” Cyrus says. “And really twitchy, but you get used to it.”
Mike watches as Goren nearly fumbles his water glass. “If you say so.”
“Seriously, give it two weeks, and you barely notice,” Ed says reassuringly. “And the woman next to him is Nurse Rogers. Word to the wise, she doesn’t give you aspirin if she thinks you’re hung over.”
Mike gets the feeling Ed knows from experience. “I’ll make a note,” he says instead of asking.
Cyrus points to the other end of the table to a white-haired man with a slightly bulbous nose and a fancy-looking tie. “Mr. Fontana teaches math. He likes trick questions.”
“But he’s not a wacko.” Ed grins when Cyrus sticks out his tongue. “Mature.”
“Shaddup.”
Ed waves him off. “The guy next to Fontana is Mr. Briscoe. He’s the music teacher.”
“Band or choir?” Mike asks because he feels like they should know he’s paying attention.
“Both,” Ed says. “And the guy next to him is Mr. McCoy. He teaches Poli Sci and runs the mock trial team. Mr. Stone, the science teacher,” Ed points to a man walking to the staff table, bald with wire rimmed glasses, “used to run it, but he gave it up to Mr. McCoy a couple of years ago. Apparently the students like Mr. McCoy better.”
“He lets you cuss in the mock trial room,” Cyrus explains.
“Cool,” Mike says and watches the way Mr. McCoy talks to Headmistress Van Buren. He’s leaning in close and smiling, and Mike notices the beginnings of crows’ feet around his eyes. “I always wanted to do mock trial.”
Cyrus’s eyebrows go up. “Really?”
Mike stares at his plate and feels himself blushing. “Yeah.”
“Cool,” Cyrus says and seems to mean it. “I thought about it, but I just like the hall monitor gig better.”
“He gets to bust cheerleaders when they’re late for class,” Ed says, grinning. “It’s a perk.”
Mike and Cyrus laugh, and the conversation turns to non-staff related topics. It’s only after dinner, when Mike is sitting in his room and flipping through his new textbooks that he realizes he’d had a nice time.
Part Two
