study hell (gus & the twins)
The first day back. It was heralded, as usual, by a series his peers’ of mopey status updates, whining to some higher power to extend the break; for Gus, the only unsettling thing was starting another semester in the same school as last year. He was a little relieved to be back--out of the house and with a few weeks distance between himself and the most difficult Christmas he had ever had. Gus looked forward, as always, to the sense of purpose that came with schoolwork--the satisfaction of looking at a stack of tasks undone and then seeing them through.
(And for the first few classes, at least: a dark head of hair nodding a few desks ahead or to the side, a Mona Lisa smile that very occasionally tilted in his direction, her cheek cupped in her hand.)
The flicker of pleasure at seeing Jackie where she was supposed to be was always short-lived. He couldn’t rationally condone her skipping class--though it was what it was--but since Gus seldom approached Jackie at school, it left him feeling a little more resigned to the drudgery of life in Palo Alto for another day without reprieve. On those days, that she didn’t need him--and when she didn’t seem to need him for anything, his presence rendered somewhat pointless. He was not smart enough to change that.
Neither was he smart enough to avoid her brother as often as he’d like. Showing up at the Vonneguts’ house was a little like playing a game of Russian roulette. Sometimes, when the door opened, the person on the other side looked like he was ready to shoot Gus between the eyes.
“Hey, Dean,” Gus said, levelly. He tugged at the strap of his backpack, weighted down with a whole day of missed assignments and printed-out readings, to illustrate the validity of his purpose. “Is Jackie home?”
