Science and Locke had never gotten along all that well. If there was any way to mess up an experiment, he'd find it. Bean plants never grew, math never worked out, and he didn't even want to think of what would happen if he took chemistry. His friend liked to joke that Locke would probably mix two chemicals together and create some weird type of toxic gas that would bring about the end of chemistry at their school forever. Just like how some people couldn't whistle, Locke was incapable of performing the most simplistic of science experiments. It wasn't that he didn't understand the ideas or the concepts, or even that he had the wrong equations. Locke just sucked at science class ever since he was in first grade, and the consistent D's on his report card were a testament to the fact. A mutual feeling of hatred existed between the two. The only thing remotely scientific that Locke had any skills in had to do with computers and electronics, and that only came from his father's lessons. So for Locke to be spending time in the library looking through the scientific books was more then a little unusual, especially since he wasn't being forced there by a teacher or guardian.

Stacked at his feet were texts on anatomy, a strange topic to pick off of a shelf. Maybe if he had it opened to pages on the female body it would make more sense for a teenage boy to be looking at, or if he were artistic in the drawing sense. But neither was the case with Locke. He wasn't interested in sneaking in looks at a naked female body, and his drawings were usually limited to doodles in the margins of paper or whatever the art teacher assigned for the day. He had a book opened up on his lap that illustrated the way that the muscles were shaped on the body, trying to make sense of the scientific mumbo-jumbo that the author felt was needed in order to make the book of any value. Locke stared at the page until his eye went blurry and he got a headache. The temptation to hurl a book across the room had never been stronger. But what had he expected? There wasn't going to be an instructions on how to make your own walking human body. The things he'd been trying to make were only vaguely similar to humans. His most successful attempt at making a golem had had two arms and two legs, but there weren't really fingers or toes on the hands and feet, and the head sort of just was a slightly raised bump between the shoulders that supported the arms. Temper rising Locke closed his eyes to focus on his breathing.

One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three, he counted off, breathing in for three, holding for three, and exhaling for three. After a second round of this the Californian opened his eyes to try and face the book again. The reason for this self inflicted torture was that he wanted to make another one of those things again, but had not been able to. Maybe the reason was that he wasn't putting it together in the right way, that it wasn't structurally sound. It could be like tossing clay onto a potter's wheel. If you didn't do it just right, if the clay wasn't exactly in the center, whatever you tried to make would be lopsided or collapse on you. Studying how a human body was comprised might make it easier to make something, and who knows, maybe in the process Locke would figure out how to make something more efficient.

So far all it was doing was making him hate doctors with a greater intensity. The names of the muscles were all too similar and too awkward to try and say. Disgusted Locke threw the book, staring angrly at the wall across from him.

Chris sat in a corner of the library with his forehead resting against his hands, feeling slightly despaired. In front of him lay a math book, and the page was covered with equations. They weren't very advanced and shouldn't give a seventeen-year old much trouble, or at least that was what he'd been told. But Chris had never gone to school. He had been home-tutored - if you could call it that, his grandfather hadn't really bothered much with learning his grandson how to use Pythagoras' theorem and stuff like that. The old man had thought that it was no idea since Chris couldn't function in everyday society anyway.

Chris was by no means stupid - he'd always been genuinely interested in learning. Problem was, since his main source of education had been the telly and, later, internet, it had been a bit uneven. He had okay general knowledge about things and was good at remembering weird facts - he knew the name of almost every capital in the world, knew everything about all the major conspiracy theories and could quote Scorsese movies in his sleep. But he knew squat about study technique and starting in a real class had been something of a shock.

Firstly, being in a large group really made it hard for him to concentrate. This was the first time he got to hang around kids his own age, and that had been one of the reasons he'd moved to the mansion. But now that he finally was here, and his classmates had showed interest in him and asked him questions and so... he'd just withdrawn. It was overwhelming being among so many people.
Secondly, he didn't understood most of what the teacher said. The other subjects where okay, he felt that he was slowly learning the ropes and that he wouldn't be so far behind for very long... but it still felt like he'd never catch up in math. During class he sat and scribbled notes almost frantically, hoping that it would make sense to him later. But most of the time, it didn't. It was just numbers and letters, he didn't understand anything.

The teacher had taken him aside after the last class and given him these "easy repetitions", but he'd been working with them for one and a half hour and just felt like pulling his hair out (well, not literally.) Finally, he closed the book and sighed. Maybe he should go back to the room and see if Saphirus could make any sense out of it.
He gathered his stuff into his backpack and took off. He read the titles of books as he passed by, rounded a corner... and got struck by something in his stomach. It wasn't a very hard hit, but he reacted instinctively - he jumped back three feet and pressed his back against the wall, his hands raised in front of him and his pulse racing. Enemy! Enemy! his instincts screamed, and his head turned from left to right and then back to left really quickly when he tried to look in all directions at the same time.

”Ohh..” Locke started, lunging out of his seat. The book had gotten a good head start on him, and was turning awkwardly about as it made a direct path to someone across the room. He should have paused before tossing the stupid thing. Nothing good ever happened when Locke let his temper loose. And he shouldn’t be throwing things period. A distinct lack of depth perception gave him horrible aim. Even if he had taken the time to aim his projectile science at something that couldn’t get hurt, like a wall or a bookshelf, chances were that he’d end up hitting something else anyways. The book made contact with someone, who for a better term, looked different. “I’m so sorry,” he apologized, bending over to pick up the book, “I wasn’t looking and I clearly I wasn’t thinking. You aren’t hurt are you?”

He could pull out his hair. How often did he have to tell his little brother and sister not to throw things, and here he was having a tantrum worse then any they had thrown. It was the kind of behavior that would result in a time-out. Granted time-outs had lost their power over Locke when his dad realized that he actually liked getting the chance to sit down and be by himself. He looked up from the ground at who he hit. The poor soul looked terrified of him, and for good reason. Having someone toss a concussion inducing book at your gut usually leaves you shaken. There was something familiar about the guy. Something about the way he put pressure on the ground. ”You’re in some of my classes aren’t you?”

Chris' sharp reflexes and well-honed survival instincts often got the best of him, and he often had problems winding down even after the 'threat' was gone. Even though the brown-haired guy who'd accidentally thrown a book in the wrong direction at the wrong moment came forward to apologize and seemed to be sincerely sorry, Chris still felt a bit twitchy.
"Uh, no problems," he said quietly, and started to fidget with his hands nervously. "I was just... surprised, I think."
And that was true. He had walked around a bookcase still pondering over the equations, so he hadn't really looked out. Then again, it wasn't often you had to be on the lookout for flying objects in the library. But since Chris wasn't one to hold grudges he shrugged and took a step away from the wall so that he didn't stood with his back pressed against it. The adrenaline was leaving his system and he began to calm down.
"Accidents happen, I guess..."

”You’re in some of my classes aren’t you?”
Chris looked up at the guy in front of him, trying to place him. He seemed to be around Chris age, a bit taller and with reddish-brown hair and bangs that covered his left eye. Chris was pretty sure he recognized him from some of their classes, but they hadn't talked before.
So he nodded.
"Yeah, I think so. I moved in here a week ago. Uh, I'm Chris, by the way. Chris Berg."
He hesitated for a moment and then offered his hand. He was beginning to get used to shaking hands, but it was harder than it looked - one co-student he'd shook hands with earlier had made some kind of 'dead fish'-comparison, and that was obviously a bad thing. And a bit offensive.

He looked down at the book that had struck him. It seemed to be about anatomy or something.
"I... I know it's not really my business, but why did you throw it?"

"I'm pretty sure that this is not ok," Locke told Chris, "This thing weighs more then my laptop and I just beamed you in the gut with it, and all you did was walk by at the wrong time. Just let me take the blame for it ok?" This was so weird. Usually if you hit a guy with a heavy science book they will at least go oww and ask you what was your problem. Locke got the feeling that he could even go so far as to accuse this kid of getting in his way, try to pin the blame on him, and he'd let it happen. He took the time to study the fish boy as he straightened up, trying hard not to look like he was staring. Turning his head away probably would be just as embarrassing. The Californian hated when people stared at him, and he bet that the guy felt the same way. No doubt about it the kid felt as awkward as he did.

"I knew it," he said, taking Chris's hand and shaking it. Do not wipe your hand on your jeans. You don't want to offend him."My name's Locke. We're in the same math class. How'd you do on that last quiz? I got a C. New high score for me." It was more then he usually spoke, but Locke knew what isolation could be like. Just because he prefered it did not mean that Chris felt the same way.

"Oh, yeah... that..." Locke replied hesitantly when Chris asked him why he had thrown the book. "Let's just say that I do about as well in my sciences as I do with math. Sucks that the two are connected."

"Eh, sure..." Chris said hesitantly. It wasn't like he was invulnerable, of course it didn't feel alright to get socked with a heavy book in his belly... but he also knew that he could have avoided it if he hadn't been walking around in his own thoughts. And since it was an accident Chris didn't feel like blaming the book-throwing guy. Let he who be without sin throweth the first book and so on. But if it made brown-haired guy feel better, sure.

When Locke mentioned the last quiz, Chris almost felt like another heavy book had come flying through the room and hit his guts again. He'd studied like crazy before it and had really thought that his efforts finally was making a difference - until he got his assignment back with a big, disgraceful D in the upper corner. Chris looked down at his feet, as if they were to blame for his low grades.
"D..." he muttered, but then he realized that he was being sulky. Which probably wasn't okay with someone you'd just met. So he shrugged and tried to make it look like it wasn't such a big deal to him.
"But, I mean, it's not like I can take my pick from the best universities anyway."
And now the pity party was official. Great. How come that every time he tried to make something sound like it wasn't a big deal to him he just made it worse?

When Locke mentioned science Chris sighed heavily. He'd been perfectly okay with science if it hadn't been so much math in it.
"Well, at least science is something you can put in a context. And it may be of use to you in the future."
Then he frowned and said, still perfectly serious:
"Except maybe making a clock powered by potatoes."

"Don't stress the D," Locke offered Chris, "Like I said, that C was a new high for me" The consistently low grades on his report card would confirm that. His highest grades had always been in classes such as English and music. Before the accident gym helped to boost his overall grade point average. Now his gym classes were different from the regular curriculum, two years of which had been just rehabilitation. Maybe it would be easier to grasp the dreaded math and science classes if Locke knew how he was going to apply it to his life. Standard deviation is useful when... well Locke couldn't think of how to use it, let alone what it meant. That was a big problem since he was getting to the age where he'd have to make some major life choices. College always seemed so far off before. Now it was sneaking up on him and there really wasn't any logical way to delay that. Locke wasn't even sure if he wanted to continue his education after high school, let alone where or for what. "I doubt I'll get into Harvard too. Not that any college really has been on the agenda. I guess there always is a trade school or something..."

It was a comfort to know that somebody else was not sure about their future. Granted for Chris the uncertainty stemmed from his visual mutation and the prejudices that the public would have about him. Locke could hide the fact that he was a mutant. Even the layer of dirt could be excused. Hopefully the fact that someone who looked normal had their doubts about attending college would be as comforting to the fish boy. Mutant or not, life after high school is a stressful thought. Already they were living without their family near.

"My potato clock didn't work," Locke told Chris, pushing the conversation forwards for a change. To be the one to initiate such an interaction was unusual, but Locke was stuck doing it now. "I followed all the directions, step for step, and still nada. Mrs. Biggs wasn't sure if she should give me a 'F' for it because there was no result or if she should give me a 'B' for effort."

"I... didn't really think about it that way," Chris admitted. Well, maybe Locke was right. He should be happy he hadn't flunked again, at least. And even though he knew it probably shouldn't be that way, the thought that there was someone in class who had about as bad grades as himself made him actually feel a little bit better about it.

Chris hadn't really been thinking much about his future - he'd been so focused on getting here that he'd kind of missed planning his next step. Well, he had his hands full with the current step. Besides, any time he started to think in the terms "where do you see yourself in 5 years?" he always saw himself back in Wisconsin, living alone in his grandfathers empty cottage. And that wasn't a vision he cared much fore.

"I followed all the directions, step for step, and still nada. Mrs. Biggs wasn't sure if she should give me a 'F' for it because there was no result or if she should give me a 'B' for effort."
"Really? I never did one myself, the only experience I've got from science fair projects and stuff like that comes from the TV. I wanted to make one of those volcanoes, you know, but gramps said no."
Then he paused with an almost confused look on his face. Normally he was really bad at small-talking, but for some reason it was kind of easy to talk to Locke. Maybe because he seemed calm and collected, or because he wasn't staring. That was a bit surprising, actually. Most of mutants with non-visible mutations didn't seem to understand that it felt really uncomfortable to be stared at.
But anyway, for once he was successfully small-talking. Or at least he had been. As soon as he thought Hey, this guy is actually pretty easy to talk with he couldn't think of anything more to say.

Chris talked about the old science fair standby the way someone might about a movie they missed seeing or a dish that they wanted to try in a restaurant. Even practical Locke could see the draw of making a volcano. It was easy, messy, and if you were good at sculptural work, a chance to get creative with paper mache. The science behind it also validated making a mess and the feeling of being all powerful. After all, when you add the vinegar to the baking soda you get to be in control over a destructive force. A way to play with matches and not get burned is really what it was. "Volcanoes I can do. The ones in science fairs I mean, though I don't know how people can get the foam red. Anyways I'm more like an earthquake or a landslide then a St. Helens."

Which lead back to the book that was now stretching his arms. Was it some sort of scientific law that any text that has boring content must way more then a book you read for fun? "I made these things with the dirt, and thought that this behemoth could help me. A little power research," it was a better explanation then he had given earlier, but it still did not excuse his behavior, "All I found though was a way to go crazy."

Earth quake? Landslide? Chris didn't really get what Locke was saying. Was it some kind of science fair project that had been overshadowed by the more famous volcano? Anyway, Chris had never heard of it.
He suddenly noticed that Locke's clothes was a bit dirty. He had worn jeans with something that could have been dried mud on the knees - not that it really mattered to Chris, since he spent most of his free time going out in the forest, looking for ponds or lakes he could dive into. But if Locke was an outdoor-person it could explain something about his short temper against books, something that the dull ache in Chris's stomach remembered him about.

When Locke said something about how he made something out of dirt and thought that the book could help him with some kind of power research but just found a way to go crazy, Chris had the polite blank expression of someone who doesn't really have a clue what the other person is talking about. He looked down at the heavy book that Locke still was holding. Anatomy. He scratched his neck and finally asked:
"Are you a... sculptor?"

“Not exactly a sculptor” Locke started, “I make these people things. Not with my hands or with tools. Once in high school my art class got to mess about with some clay, but I kept getting it stuck to me. It’s clingy. I make the people with dirt.” There, that should be enough to explain why he was in the library staring at words that most people wouldn’t want to try and say. He had learned that there were muscles in the body than originally thought, and that there were two, or was it three? different types. “I just wanted to see what I could cut out and still keep things working.”

“What were you doing… besides ending up as a human target,” he asked. It was the best way he could think to keep the conversation moving along. Much to his surprise Locke was enjoying this. He didn’t come out of his shell much, and Chris probably didn’t either. Who cared if they had oddly jerking conversation, or if he was unable to make a comment on pop culture? At least he was talking to someone.

Chris stood with an polite but clueless look on his face, apparently still not getting it. People things? Art clay that clung? Dirt people? Maybe it was some kind of code. Still, he nodded as if he understood.

When Locke wondered what he'd been doing there Chris's frown returned - he'd almost managed to forget those pesky equations that were encumbering his backpack like bad karma.
"I just thought that I've had enough with math for a while. I'm heading back to my room now, but..."
He stopped mid sentence, not really sure how to phrase himself. He wasn't used to situations like these, not used to actually try to be social. Mostly, he didn't want to since he preferred to just be by himself, but this was different. For once, ha actually wanted to be social. He just didn't know what to say.
"But... maybe... we could see a movie sometimes or something? I don't know."
After he'd said it he regretted it - it almost sounded like he was trying to set up a date or something. Awkward. He quickly added:
"But you don't have to if you don't want to, of course," which kind of made him feel just more awkward.

The guy was feeling uncomfortable. Ok, Locke could deal with that. He spent most of his days feeling the same way. The question was should he push the issue or not. If the situation was reversed he'd be quite happy to get the chance to slink off to his room. Then again he was at least making an attempt to be less of a hermit. He should at least make an offer for something in the future. "Movie? Yeah sure, I can do that," he chewed his bottom lip trying to remember what was in the theaters. It did not surprise him that he was drawing a blank. Locke had never really been in the loop for movies before, and with his vacation he was even more removed from it. Usually someone would have to tell him if something he'd like was coming out.

"Look Chris, I'll be honest with you. I have no idea what pathetic attempts at movies Hollywood has barfed up lately. Probably just sequels to stuff I never saw the original to, re-imagined flicks from the seventies, and comic stuff. I'd rather wait to have stuff come out on video and rent it. That way if it totatlly bombs, I won't have wasted ten bucks on a ticket and five on popcorn, and if it rules I can watch it a million times." Hopefully he wasn't giving Chris the impression that he didn't want to hang out. "But I have all the Saw movies, the Evil Dead and Lord of the Rings trilogy and a few movies that are required viewing materials if you're going to have any grasp of the eighties. Swing by my room sometime and we'll pop something in ok?"

Before Locke opened his mouth, Chris was completely sure he would say something like: "You know, that would be great and all, but I don't think I really have time for it... or can afford it..." So he was kind of shocked when he wasn't totally dismissed. The other guy actually offered him to drop in later to watch a movie. No one had ever done that before, and Chris's thankfulness probably showed.
"Really? Uhm... thanks! Yeah, I'll think about it."
He slung his backpack over his left shoulder and gave Locke some kind of wave as he started to move to the exit.
"Well, see you around. Good luck with those... people things.""
As he went out of the library, he realized that he thought it cuold be kind of fun to drop in for a movie at Locke's some time. Those Saw movies, for example - he had never seen any of them, but he'd heard a great deal about them. It was actually kind of fun being social, but it was a bit exhausting too. It would be a relief to get back to his room.