Where: Art Classroom
When: September 9, 2017
Tag: Ignacio Ramírez , Chase Taylor , Stephanie Graves , Open

Just like any other morning, Andy woke up, got dressed, brushed his teeth, went outside for a swim, dried off via his powers, came back inside, and ate breakfast. The only difference was that he had to do it all much faster than usual. Oh, and he didn’t have time to shower. He probably smelled like chlorine, but he didn’t care. He liked the smell.

What he didn’t like was having to rush. It made everything so much less enjoyable. He especially didn’t like having to get out of the pool prematurely. He guessed he’d have to get used to it, though. Summer was over.

Andy strolled into his first class with a backpack over his shoulder and an amicable smile plastered on his face. He almost looked as though he wanted to be there. Ugh. All the seats in the back were already taken, so he sat down at a desk in the middle and made a mental note to arrive earlier.

Sighing, he tried to ignore the feeling of other students staring at him from behind as he pulled out two sharpened pencils from his backpack and placed them on top of his desk. Then he leaned back in his chair and waited more or less patiently for the lesson to begin.

It sucked no one he knew had chosen art as an elective, but at least it’d be an easy A.

For a twelve year old, Chase was pretty good at drawing-- not at the level of any of the high school kids, by any means, but he wasn't bad either. It was thus that he found him in Mr. Holloway's art class. He had showed up around the same time that most of the other student had, was sitting in "his spot" (a desk towards the front corner of the room, with his backpack on the seat besides him). He had a pencil and an eraser out, but that was it.

Chase lay with his arms folded and his head on on the table, gaze pointing towards the front of the room. As is two electives (cooking and art), Chase was one of the youngest (if not the youngest) in the room, thus he tried not to attract too much attention to himself. At least he was halfway decent at art... cooking was an entirely different monster.

An older boy walked in late. This earned a listless glance from the twelve-year-old, and nothing more. He looked back towards the front of the room.

Ignacio was up and ready when dawn came. With him being a morning person, he usually was the first to get up in the morning and experience the beautiful sunrise. After brushing his teeth and washing his face, Iggy slipped on a pair of black gym shorts and went for his morning run. After ten miles, he circled back around to the Mansion and immediately went to take a shower.

After about fifteen minutes, he went back into his room and quickly got ready for the day. His first class was art, which was obviously an easy A. Dressed in a light green polo and pastel pink shorts, he made his way into the art classroom with his backpack hanging off of his shoulder. He first noticed Chase and gave him a happy wave.

"¡Hola, Chase!" He greeted happiy before looking around the room. He knew a few of them from being in the mansion, but there was someone who caught his attention. He was ten minutes early to class so he decided to sit down in a random seat toward's the middle. However, that changed when a special someone walked into the classroom late. With a loud gasp, he scampered over to Andy and sat down beside him.

"Well, look who it is! Andy!" Ignacio giggled and poked his arm. "How are ya?"

With a small, controlled sigh, Andy picked up one of his pencils and twisted it idly between his thumb and index finger as he waited for class to begin. Leaning further back in his seat, he tried not to let his eyes wander around the classroom. What was the point? He didn’t know anyone, and he wasn’t in the mood to try to make friends. He’d have plenty of time to do that later… Besides, class would start soon.

Any second now… he thought to himself, brown eyes glued to the art teacher, whose name was written on the chalkboard at the front of the classroom for all to see: Mr. Holloway. And then, out of nowhere, someone sat next to him and started talking to him… and playfully poked him in the arm.

>> "Well, look who it is! Andy! How are ya?"

Eyes widening in surprise, Andy stopped fidgeting with his pencil and looked to his left. It was the same guy he met at the pool a week or two ago! The one with the multicolored eyes… and the hottest body he had ever seen… and the questionable sexual orientation.

Both excited and nervous, Andy flashed his best smile, sat up straight in his seat, and said, “Ignacio, hey. I’m, um...” He paused, momentarily distracted by how short Ignacio’s shorts were… and how pink. Shaking his head, Andy let out a chuckle of embarrassment, set his pencil on his desk, and continued, “I’m good. Real good. Haven’t drowned yet... What about you?”

Another school year and another collection of students for Nate to work with. There were plenty of returners, but the turnover at Xavier’s was higher than most high schools. Mutants went through so many unique struggles, which lead to more dynamic lifestyles. It was not uncommon for a student to leave for their own reasons mid-semester and, in the same way, plenty of students came into the school throughout the year. Even still, the biggest surge of new students came with fall semester, just like with any school.

The art classes were unique in how they were organized. Grade level mattered less than skill level, so younger students with greater artistic comprehension would be placed accordingly. The school was not large, so it made more sense than having a handful of students grouped up by age with wildly varied skillsets.

Nate was sitting on his desk at the front of the class, looking out at the desks as students filled them one by one. He wore black pants, a short-sleeved charcoal button-down, and a red tie, all of which he imagined would get dotted with paint at some point during the school year. He made it a point to set aside some of his wardrobe for class so he did not dirty the clothes he would wear at Haven.

Nate offered Chase a nod and a smile when he entered. He was the youngest kid in that particular class, but he was one Nate was familiar with. When he started at Xavier’s, Chase was one of his youngest students in general. It would be a lie to say he did not have a soft spot in his heart for the kid.

Students old and new sorted into the room, striking up conversations with one another. It was the first day of class, so Nate allowed them a few extra minutes to socialize. It would be a long school year, and it was good to foster a community in a school filled with kids who were so often excluded.

Eventually, class had to come to order, so Nate finally hopped of the edge of his desk and spoke clearly. ”Alright, I think we’ve waited long enough. Welcome to Art Class, and for anyone who is new this year, welcome to Xavier’s.”

Nate liked to walk the room rather than stand at the front, so he made sure his voice carried as he passed between rows of desks. ”Now, for those of you who grabbed my elective, thinking y’all’d have a class that’s an easy A… it’s not.” He let that comment hang in the room for a moment, hoping to give any slackers a brief moment to wake up. ”What I can say is that this class is a very attainable A. If you can prove you actually listen when I teach and make a genuine effort to put that into practice, we’re gonna get along just fine.” Nate might have been an easier grader than some of his peers, but he understood that not everyone was going to “take” to art as quickly as others, do an understanding of the practice was more important than how well it could be applied.

”So it is the first day of the year, so I am hoping we can start with something fun and not too unfamiliar. We’ll be talking about watercolor paints for a bit, and you’ll be taking the opportunity to make stunning pieces of watercolor art. Or, I mean, whatever you can manage. It is day one, after all,” he joked. ”I won’t talk your ears off, but we’ll go over some of the basics. I’ll point out some of the things that tend to look good in watercolor, like trees, clouds, and… well, water. We’ll pass out supplies and you all can enjoy some artistic expression and all that jazz.” Most people played with watercolor paint when they were kids, so Nate thought it would be a good place to bring out some artistic nostalgia to start the year.

The boy, whose form was half-devoured by an enormous hoodie, shrank asocially into his chair when Ignacio brightly greeted him. Converse clad feet dangled in the open air above the floor, and he wore ratty jeans. Ignacio. He helped Chase with math that one time. Not a morning person by any extent of the word, the human shifter glanced sideways.

His eyes found their way to Mr. Holloway, but when they connected, Chase opted instead to look at the table. The glance seemed to prompt Mr. Holloway to speak. The boy continued looking at the table. Why would anyone take a class because it was "easy"? You took art because you enjoyed it. At least, Chase did. Big kids were stupid. There was a part of the desk that'd been chipped away at some point, and Chase's pencil found its way into the indent, covering the divot in graphite.

Mr. Holloway announced the activity-- watercolors-- and the human-shifter froze. He mostly just scribbled with pencils. He hadn't really... painted... before. Not that he could remember. He resumed shading the divot in the table.