Everyman - Chapter 2 (Patreon)

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Giovanni’s feet carried him through tiled hallways and up wide staircases.

As he walked, he scanned the overgrown facilities with familiarity. Trivandrum was known for its lavish gardens, a feature most students appreciated, including himself.

He still remembered stumbling across a female teacher, making out with a student behind an overgrown rose-bush. Back then, he was still a freshman and unused to such sights. Now, it wouldn’t bother him.

Inwardly lamenting the passing of time, he climbed the last flight of stairs leading to the library. On his way, he passed many students. Despite being a private school, it taught around a thousand kids, from fifth to eighth grade.

Dividing by four, that meant about two-hundred-and-fifty students per year. Each year usually had seven classes with an average of thirty students. They were labeled A to H and children were grouped according to grade averages.

It seemed a bit exaggerated for a middle-school, but Trivandrum wasn’t normal.

Giovanni quietly entered the library, slipping in between the tall, wooden double-doors. A forest of book-racks stretched toward the back, blocking the light filtering through the curtained windows. Styled, electric lamps hung from the ceiling, producing a yellow glow. Despite their abundance, a gloom persisted.

With one hand in his pocket, Giovanni walked toward the back. In a sequestered nook, a small table sat—the usual spot for him and his friends.

On his way there, he suddenly heard a loud whisper, sounding somewhere to his left.

“John, over here…!”

Turning his head, Giovanni saw a chubby, blond kid with a face full of pimples. Smiling widely, the boy waved him over with the book he held.

Giovanni nodded at him before walking over. ‘John’ was a nickname he picked up in primary school, given to him by one of his homeroom teachers. Apparently, his real name was too much of a mouthful.

Arriving at his friend’s side, he looked around, trying to spot the others.

“Is it just you, Hugo?”

Pulling his scarf away from his mouth, he whispered the question. Silence was strictly enforced by the assistant-librarians.

The blonde kid looked askingly at him.

“Didn’t you hear…?”

He sounded slightly uncomfortable.

Giovanni frowned, shaking his head.

The other boy sighed before closing his book and putting it back on the shelf. Then, he gestured with one hand, indicating toward their usual spot.

When he saw Giovanni following him, he continued.

“Bo dropped out at the end of last year because his scores were too low, and Isaac’s parents took him back to Yoruba.”

While delivering the statement, Hugo was audibly despondent.

Giovanni frowned. Not being very social, he didn’t have many friends. Hugo, Bo and Isaac were the only ones he was truly close to.

Feeling confused, he posed a question.

“Why didn’t they say anything? It’s not like I don’t have a telephone.”

Hugo shook his head, wearing a rueful smile.

“Isaac’s situation is likely because of the war. I think they were in too much of a hurry. As for Bo, I think he was just too embarrassed to tell you…”

Toward the end, Hugo’s voice dwindled to a low whisper.

Fiddling with his hair-tie, Giovanni sighed quietly. He was even closer with Bo than with Hugo—the happy-go-lucky boy from Taipei could be considered his best friend.

For a while, silence stretched between the two of them.

Arriving at their table, they pulled out two chairs before sitting down. Both boys glanced at the other two seats with some depression, knowing they’d never be filled again.

Eventually, Hugo broke the silence.

“You need to study hard, John. I don’t want you to leave too…”

His pimply face showed a pleading expression.

Seeing his friend’s look of distress, Giovanni gave an amused snort. Between the four of them, his marks were the second lowest.

“My average was sixty-five-percent last year—more than enough to pass.”

Hugo visibly suppressed a grimace.

“You scored a fifty-five on your Romani exam last year. Really, you…”

The boy didn’t complete his sentence, but both of them knew what went unsaid.

Giovanni’s lips twitched. His mother’s side was Romani, so it was indeed a bit strange for him to score that low, given it was a home-language.

“Don’t worry, I have it handled.”

His tone was decisive, cutting off further discussion about his marks. He already spent one lifetime going through the education system. This time, he wanted to try something different.

Sighing, Hugo shook his head.

“Really, you’re way too lazy. If you studied harder, you could’ve gotten into A-class this year.”

His voice contained faint regret. Hugo himself was in A-class, though he wasn’t one of the top students there.

Giovanni rolled his eyes.

“I’m not interested in changing classes.”

While speaking, he reached into his backpack, surreptitiously taking a bite of his bacon-and-eggs. He owed his untimely hunger to this morning’s strenuous exercise.

Seeing his friend’s lawless behavior, Hugo’s eyes widened, but not wanting to draw attention, he didn’t reprimand him.

“…are you sure?”

His was referring to Giovanni’s apparent disinterest in A-class.

The Romani boy raised an eyebrow.

“Even if I made it into A-class, it wouldn’t change much. The teachers are so uptight, we wouldn’t even be able to pass notes.”

He went silent for a moment, remembering the time he and Bo sat detention together for doing the same. However, his amusement soon turned to depression.

Hugo frowned, wearing a look of faint exasperation.

“Okay, stop pretending. You know I’m talking about Ha-Rin.”

The boy knew his friend’s words were just misdirection.

Hidden underneath his scarf, Giovanni’s lips curled into a strange smile. Despite being caught out, he didn’t show much discomfort.

“She hasn’t spoken to me for a year. What’s the point of bringing this up?”

His words were stated without much emotion, like someone discussing the weather.

Hugo sighed, looking like a teacher dealing with a dull student.

“She’s smart, pretty, sporty and rich. You’re… not. If you don’t go out of your way, nothing will change.”

It seemed a bit strange for his poor-complected, slightly overweight self to be giving relationship advice, but contrary to expectations, Hugo already had a girlfriend. She wasn’t bad either—a solid six-and-a-half out of ten, by Giovanni standards.

The Romani boy made a dismissive gesture.

“Forget it. It wasn’t like that, anyways—we were just friends.”

He was referring to their past relationship, when they we’re still talking.

Hugo shook his head.

“Dude, you’re weird. It’s not like she even has a boyfriend—in class, she only talks to other girls. You have a chance, why not go for it?”

He sounded like he couldn’t understand what Giovanni was thinking.

The boy in question stared piercingly ahead, like trying to drill holes in Hugo’s skull.

“You just said she was better than me. Why do you think I have a chance?”

His tone was mock-aggrieved.

Hugo smiled insufferably. At that moment, he looked very punchable.

“You’re not good at school, or anything else, really, but at least you aren’t ugly. If you were, I’d have told you not to bother.”

For a few moments, silence stretched between them, but then they both started chuckling.

Unfortunately, the frivolous atmosphere was soon dispelled by an assistant-librarian, attracted by the noise. With lowered heads, the two boys apologized, promising they’d be silent from now on.

However, when the staff-member left, they resumed their conversation, talking as quietly as possible. For the next five minutes, they chatted about this and that. Then, the bell rang, signaling the start of morning assembly.

Slinging their backpacks over their shoulders, the two boys headed for the grand hall.

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It was third period and Giovanni was sitting in math-class, not paying much attention. As a previous I.T. major, the content didn’t give him much trouble. Before he died, he managed to get his doctorate, although it took him eight years instead of the standard six.

Having already suffered through that process, he wasn’t planning on doing it again. As far as he was concerned, the best part about having a Ph.D. was not having to be impressed by someone else with a Ph.D.

Despite his inattentiveness, he wasn’t called out. Over the years, he mastered the art of looking busy while actually being idle.

‘Still, I don’t remember doing this much when I was in seventh grade.’

He looked at the algebra on the blackboard with some surprise. It wasn’t something he encountered until high-school. By his estimation Trivandrum’s curriculum was a year to a year-and-a-half ahead of standard—it was no wonder Bo ended up dropping out.

Giovanni sighed quietly, feeling guilty. He knew Bo was in H-class, but he didn’t realize the Taipeinese boy was in danger of flunking out. If he had, he’d have forced him to study.

‘Was I a bad influence on him?’

The Romani boy couldn’t help but have such thoughts. However, the reason he was so casual about his own studies was because he wasn’t in any danger of failing. He could even get into A-class, if he wanted to.

At the very least, when it came to math, he was probably more proficient than his teachers. As for his other subjects, he’d studied most of it already—it was just a matter of revising old content.

However, languages were a different matter. While they bore some resemblance to Earth’s, they weren’t the same. Still, Giovanni was a voracious reader, so his abilities were nothing to scoff at.

The simple truth was something nobody would ever guess—the boy kept his grades low on purpose. It wasn’t that he was humble, but rather that he’d already tried being a ‘genius’. Through first and second grade, he consistently ranked at the top of his class.

When he found it wasn’t to his liking, he tried something different—passing by the skin of his teeth. It was strangely exciting, like driving really fast, where a single mistake could lead to disaster.

Predictably, his parents weren’t too happy about his dropping scores. To pacify them, he raised his grade average to around sixty-percent.

Naturally, everyone was puzzled by his sudden ‘delinquency’, but at this point, five years had already passed. His scores were no longer odd.

Giovanni’s eyes went to his desk, glancing at last year’s exam sheet, having been handed out this morning for the purpose of revision. At the top, written in red pen, a nice round ‘60%’ was written.

The boy's expression remained unchanged. After all, it was the result he expected.

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