A/N: He's 13 in this one, Year 7. :) Isn't he adowaaaable?
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Slam!
Evan's eyes slipped up from his desk, peering up at Mr. Tarcotti with as much innocent as he could manage.
But his teacher had already moved onto the next person. He grabbed the report that had been slammed before him, and greedily read it over.
Evan had more than enough will to get good marks. He was always striving to be the best at everything; one of the good points on being so very competitive. What did put him down in the dumps, however, was the knowledge that his stoner brother was getting better marks than he was in almost every subject.
His shoulder's slumped as he realized that this year would be no different. Only three A's, in his three best subjects; Sport, Music, and Chemistry.
He wasn't looking forward to going home, just for that. He knew Andrew would have better marks than him, even if said person was most always piss drunk.
The continued slamming of reports on desks didn't do anything to ease his discomfort. Five B's; Math, Biology, Lote, English, and Geography. It wasn't too bad, but he was still disappointed. He'd been hoping for at least five A's this year.
As the bell rang, he gathered his books into his shoulder-bag, and slipped it over his skinny frame. Running a hand through his messy black hair, he made his way to the exit. He almost made it, too, right up until he was almost killed by his stampeding classmates.
He frowned, and kept walking.
No doubt, he was smart for his age. Not scarily smart, but he had a good brain. It took him less than a second to decide upon the best route to get home considering his current state.
He needed some time to think, time to get something cold and fizzy to drink, and time to just sit down and get a better look at his report before showing it to his parents.
Moving with a quick trot one would not expect of someone so short, he made his way down towards the nearest Supermarket. It didn't take long for him to return to the street, Banana Milk in hand.
As he walked, slower now that he was content with the flavored drink swishing in his mouth and quenching his thirst, he thought about what he hadn't done to make his grades higher.
It most certainly was not through lack of effort. He studied hard and long, before each test and a week after to make sure he still remembered it. He knew all the best techniques to remember things. He had learnt to touch-type, just so that he could progress faster with his work.
As he sucked the milk up the straw, he couldn't comprehend why he didn't get better grades. Certainly the marks he had gotten on previous tests were good enough? Doing the math quickly in his head, he reached a rough estimate of 85% on all his subject's tests. His teachers didn't ever expect too much, none of them where too strict.
He frowned and sighed.
Guess I'm just not smart enough...
He walked a little harder, begging to anticipate getting home. He had an idea for next year at school, how he could start some of the English curriculum early and get a head-start-
He knocked on the door before opening it, and kicked off his shoes when his Mother answered. She smiled at him, and welcomed him in Japanese.
Evan smiled back, and gave her his own greeting.
Andrew was flopped on the couch, watching TV in true American style, a sharp contrast to the faint slant in his eyes. He wasn't drunk or hungover, but you could tell he was on the recovering end of a binge due to his out of focus eyes, and his slow reaction to his brother's entry, even if the only reaction he gave was a grunt of acknowledgement.
Evan dumped his bag on the table, his empty milk bottle in the bin, and then grabbed Andrew's report, scanned it over quickly, and then placed it back. Five A's. He swore under his breath.
That asshole had stolen his marks.
He kicked the back of the couch just to express his anger, before storming off into his room.
It wasn't that he was upset he hadn't achieved his goal; he was just upset that Andrew was better than him at yet another thing.
The pissed-off teenager flopped onto his bed, and let loose a mantra of swearing into his pillow.
It was all just a competition to Evan. A competition he was loosing.
-------------------------------
Slam!
Evan's eyes slipped up from his desk, peering up at Mr. Tarcotti with as much innocent as he could manage.
But his teacher had already moved onto the next person. He grabbed the report that had been slammed before him, and greedily read it over.
Evan had more than enough will to get good marks. He was always striving to be the best at everything; one of the good points on being so very competitive. What did put him down in the dumps, however, was the knowledge that his stoner brother was getting better marks than he was in almost every subject.
His shoulder's slumped as he realized that this year would be no different. Only three A's, in his three best subjects; Sport, Music, and Chemistry.
He wasn't looking forward to going home, just for that. He knew Andrew would have better marks than him, even if said person was most always piss drunk.
The continued slamming of reports on desks didn't do anything to ease his discomfort. Five B's; Math, Biology, Lote, English, and Geography. It wasn't too bad, but he was still disappointed. He'd been hoping for at least five A's this year.
As the bell rang, he gathered his books into his shoulder-bag, and slipped it over his skinny frame. Running a hand through his messy black hair, he made his way to the exit. He almost made it, too, right up until he was almost killed by his stampeding classmates.
He frowned, and kept walking.
No doubt, he was smart for his age. Not scarily smart, but he had a good brain. It took him less than a second to decide upon the best route to get home considering his current state.
He needed some time to think, time to get something cold and fizzy to drink, and time to just sit down and get a better look at his report before showing it to his parents.
Moving with a quick trot one would not expect of someone so short, he made his way down towards the nearest Supermarket. It didn't take long for him to return to the street, Banana Milk in hand.
As he walked, slower now that he was content with the flavored drink swishing in his mouth and quenching his thirst, he thought about what he hadn't done to make his grades higher.
It most certainly was not through lack of effort. He studied hard and long, before each test and a week after to make sure he still remembered it. He knew all the best techniques to remember things. He had learnt to touch-type, just so that he could progress faster with his work.
As he sucked the milk up the straw, he couldn't comprehend why he didn't get better grades. Certainly the marks he had gotten on previous tests were good enough? Doing the math quickly in his head, he reached a rough estimate of 85% on all his subject's tests. His teachers didn't ever expect too much, none of them where too strict.
He frowned and sighed.
Guess I'm just not smart enough...
He walked a little harder, begging to anticipate getting home. He had an idea for next year at school, how he could start some of the English curriculum early and get a head-start-
He knocked on the door before opening it, and kicked off his shoes when his Mother answered. She smiled at him, and welcomed him in Japanese.
Evan smiled back, and gave her his own greeting.
Andrew was flopped on the couch, watching TV in true American style, a sharp contrast to the faint slant in his eyes. He wasn't drunk or hungover, but you could tell he was on the recovering end of a binge due to his out of focus eyes, and his slow reaction to his brother's entry, even if the only reaction he gave was a grunt of acknowledgement.
Evan dumped his bag on the table, his empty milk bottle in the bin, and then grabbed Andrew's report, scanned it over quickly, and then placed it back. Five A's. He swore under his breath.
That asshole had stolen his marks.
He kicked the back of the couch just to express his anger, before storming off into his room.
It wasn't that he was upset he hadn't achieved his goal; he was just upset that Andrew was better than him at yet another thing.
The pissed-off teenager flopped onto his bed, and let loose a mantra of swearing into his pillow.
It was all just a competition to Evan. A competition he was loosing.
