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The classroom was something Rusty had only heard of in legend.
On TV, in books, he’d heard all the highs and lows of school life. Not so much about college, though. Apparently, it’s not as exciting for people to write about. But he can’t deny how terrified felt going into this. His closest brush with a normal education was visiting a haunted Victorian boarding school when he was ten, and all that did was sour him on the whole idea even further. But State University doesn’t house the spirits of 19th-century aristocratic children, he figured, so what did he even have to be worried about?
It took him a good hour to figure out the layout of the building, and even then he was only barely on time, shuffling into the lecture hall. The sheer amount of people was enough to disorient him, and he was left flying blind somewhat as he looked for a seat. Finally, he set his sights on a spare chair, making a (very slow and meticulous) break for it before carefully sitting down. Breathing a sigh of relief, he sat back, tense muscles relaxing ever-so-slightly. If this much already had him panicking, he dreaded to think how the next few hours would go.
His train of thought was cut short, though, when a voice beside him leaned over, speaking in a hushed voice.
“Hey, pal, can I borrow a pencil?”
The question didn’t even register at first. His father had drilled such a strict schedule into him that the idea of someone so blatantly failing to plan ahead was a borderline alien concept. Despite that, though, he silently reached into his bag, cracking his pencil tin open and handing one over.
“Oh my God, thank you.” The stranger said, a pale hand delicately plucking the pencil out of Rusty’s hand. “Literal life-saver over here.” There was a pause, then, followed by a laugh. “My name’s Pete, by the way. White. And before you say anything; Yeah, seriously.”
“I’ve heard more on the nose,” Rusty replied, attempting in vain to match the other’s joking tone. “Thaddeus Venture. Most people call me Rusty.”
“No freaking way.” Pencil clattering on the desk, Pete slammed a hand on the desk with just a little more force than was probably necessary. He didn’t notice Rusty visibly flinch, voice booming when he spoke. “YOU’RE Rusty Venture?!”
And now all eyes were on them, including the professor’s narrow glare. There was something about the teacher that looked...Strikingly familiar. Something that made him wish he’d looked over his timetable a little more closely. Something that made Rusty slink down in his seat a little, trying to disassociate from his peer for a few moments before everyone finally continued with their business.
“That’s, uh, that’s the one.”
“I didn’t know boy adventurers went to school! That is so awesome, seriously.”
By now, the professor had begun his lecture, but Rusty’s capacity to take in more than one conversation at a time was nothing to write home about. And right now, he was a little more interested in meaningless small talk than the tedious introductory lecture going on on the other side of the hall.
“They, uh...They don’t. Usually.” Rusty admitted, immediately wishing he hadn’t.
“How’d you figure that if you’re here?”
“Well, this is actually my first day doing...School?" Rusty would gesture vaguely around him, not really sure what point he was trying to make. “It’s funny, actually, growing up I was —” His explanation was suddenly, and maybe fortunately, cut off by the door slamming open, a raven-haired boy standing in the doorway, practically keeled over. His breathing came out ragged, his shaky arms struggling to hold the bundle of textbooks he was clinging onto for dear life. The professor didn't stop his lecture despite the obvious, though, continuing for another minute or two. And then, in what could only be called a total dick move, he waited until the student was halfway to his seat to address him.
“If you’re going to be late, could you at least do it quietly, Mr. Sorayama?”
The boy flushed, then, books held tightly to his chest. His mouth opened to object, clearly jumping to provide his actual reasoning, before letting out a sigh of defeat.
“Sorry, Professor Impossible.” He muttered, desperately trying to make his way through the bleachers. Hovering in front of Rusty, he’d motion to where he’d placed his bag on the empty seat beside himself. In a swift motion, Rusty swiped the bag, careful to place it quietly on the ground. He had to admit, it was a little comforting knowing he wasn’t the only one fumbling through his first – Wait, Professor who?
“I remember him.” Rusty practically had to comment, at least waiting until the lesson resumed and the tension broke to do so.
“Well, of course, you do.” Mike pointed out simply, finally taking his seat. “Professor Impossible is an esteemed super-scientist. He works for the government. I heard he has eighteen doctorates.”
“Oh, please.” Pete was quick to cut in, pencil tapping idly against his textbook. “If he’s all that, the hell’s he doing teaching a freshman physics class?” When all Mike did was shrug, Pete continued, a thought having suddenly occurred to him. “Say, Impossible... Ain’t that the kid who used to snap pics for Jonas Venture?” He prompted, casting a not-so-subtle glance in Rusty’s direction.
“Yeah, I think so.” Rusty said, somewhat absently, mostly because he was trying to bring any memories of the guy to the forefront of his brain.
“Well, that explains it!” Pete huffed, leaning over to focus more intently on the conversation. “No wonder he’s supposedly got all those degrees, I bet Jonas gives ‘em out like candy. He’s totally allowed to do that, I bet.”
“If that’s true, then what am I here for?” Rusty huffed, eyes fixed on the professor at the front. Where had they met? What was his deal? He didn’t even realise what he’d let slip until Pete let out a laugh, probably a little louder than the remark warranted.
“Sorry, I got here late. What?” Mike asked, clearly having given up on paying attention to the actual lesson himself. Before Rusty could even begin to explain himself, Pete had already jumped in there.
“Get a load of this! This guy over here is Rusty Venture. ”
“No way!” Mike exclaimed, significantly less loudly than White had minutes earlier. Thank God. “What are you doing here if your dad’s a super scientist?” Honestly, that was a pretty good question, one Rusty could only really answer with a half-joke.
“Well, a super scientist I am not.” He didn’t even have a fraction of his father’s scientific ability, and even one horrified glance at his textbook made him fear that he never would be. But what Pete said next was enough to ease his anxieties, even for a moment.
“So you’re just like the rest of us! Ain’t that a relief?” Pete said. “I was starting to worry you were gonna be some brainiac type that made the rest of us look like chumps. Even if that means I won’t be able to copy your homework.”
“We could still study together,” Mike suggested, a little sheepish that he’d even dared to offer. “Given how little attention we’ve been paying so far, we’ll need all the help we can get.”
The proposition was...Exciting, to Rusty. He hadn’t even considered that making friends would be this easy. Part of him had anticipated the need for some grand gesture to get people to like him, but somehow everything had just... Clicked.
“You guys could study at my dorm if you want.” He felt reluctant to offer, but hell, they were all clearly nervous, stumbling through the conversation like toddlers. “I'm not sharing a room this year.”
“Well, you got the one thing worse than a roommate now, Rust.” Pete hummed. “Two guys who are gonna crash on your couch every night ‘til the day you graduate.”
"Yeah?" Rusty said. "I’m holding you to that."
"Challenge accepted."