Title: The Non-Prodigal Son Returns
Fandom: House M.D.
Characters: Original Character, Mention of Chase
Rating: All Ages
Summary: Chase’s former primary school classmate’s POV when she sees him again taking an advance college course. Pre-House
Disclaimer: Mr. David Shore, Mr. Bryan Singer and FOX Brodcasting Company, you guys already own House, Wilson, Cuddy, Cameron, Chase and Foreman. Isn’t that enough? Do you have to sue me for borrowing them for a little while? If you decide to sue, then you are just plain old meanies who will get nothing from me since I'm poor. If not, then I love you guys forever. Well not so much FOX since they cancelled Kitchen Confidential. But I do love you for giving us House.
Being smart is not all what it’s cracked up to be. One would think that your smarts, when used to achieve academic excellence, would buy you some slack from your parents and you could then go on to attend all the parties you want. I imagine that actually does happen in some households. Unfortunately my household is ruled by over-achieving parents who want to raise over-achieving children which is the reason why I am sitting in another college course class in the nearby Uni instead of enjoying myself in the biggest back to school party ever thrown..
Ten minutes into the class with still no professor in sight, I glanced around the room to see who else are with me. The only advantage about taking college courses that I can think of is that I have the opportunity to meet older guys. That, however, is quickly squelched when I realized that male population of the class is composed of either high school geeks, who are also taking this class for the same reason my parents force me to take this class, or significantly older men who are probably doing the night college thing now since they didn’t have the opportunity to do the regular college thing when they were younger. I figured the regular and cute older boys are taking this class during regular hours which is unfortunate for me, of course, since I won’t be meeting any acceptable older men in this already dreary situation.
Ok, wait. Hold on. There’s still a guy I missed. His longish blonde hair led me to believe that he’s a girl when in fact he is otherwise. A very cute otherwise. He’s not the older guy type that I was looking for but he’ll more than certainly do.
I leave my seat for another one closer to his to get a better look at him. He looks familiar to me somehow but I can’t place where I’ve seen him before which is a surprise to me since I make it a point to remember the cute boys I meet. He shifted a little and his blonde hair fell further to the nape of his neck, giving me a better view of his face and it is then I realize who he is.
~ * ~
The kids from school call him Roo, short for Kangaroo since he started school at an early age and still managed to skip a grade twice back in primary school. Some of the neighborhood kids call him Pope because he’s currently attending a seminary school. He had other nicknames attached to him at one time or another. But those two are the ones the stuck to him up until now.
His father is said to be the most sought after doctor of a certain field and has been flown around the world by his more prominent foreign patients that include members of the royal family of different countries. His mother is nothing to sneeze at either. As the premier opera singer of Australia, she is a well known figure in the Elite Circle. Her engagements are usually a gathering of the who’s who and are always sold out in advance. His house is the site of many grand parties that our parents would talk about from days on end. For though big parties are not uncommon in our wealthy community, theirs just seem more glamorous, with his mother’s golden voice delicately floating beyond the perimeter of their property, giving the nearby homes a free concert.
Most people would expect him to be your typical rich kid. Spoiled, care free, arrogant and flashy. You can’t really blame them for having this notion since most of the kids like us are like that. I admit that those adjectives have been associated to me on more than one occasion. But not him. Not to the extent of my knowledge anyway.
The biggest testament to that is his decision to attend a Jesuit seminary school after we finished primary school. Well it’s not really a seminary school but it might as well be. It’s a seminary preparatory school where the mandatory high school curriculum is taught along with extensive theology classes. Most of its graduates do go on to the Seminary to become priests.
A lot of people were quite shocked with that development. I don’t think there has ever been a kid in the community who has ever thought of becoming a priest, much less actually enrolling in a seminary school. Living the way we do, the thought of taking a vow of poverty willingly is most distressing. As his peers bemoaned his future impoverished state, his teachers sighed and moaned at the prospect of having one of their top students not fulfill what they deemed to be his full potential, muttering words like ‘What a waste’ under their breaths when they see him pass by. Needless to say if we were disappointed, his folks must have been upset tenfold. Rumor has it that his father stormed out of the house when the announcement was made. Personally I thought it was extremely funny that little twelve year old Roo-bert Chase could cause such a significant fuss with wanting to be priest that it almost rivaled the buzz caused by Christopher Jensen, the former Football Captain of the high school team, when he came out to his parents during the annual cotillion a few years back.
He became a sort of legend after that. A living myth if you will. A story that is passed on to the younger generation who would not believe that such a person actually exists in our midst. With Robert sequestered in the seminary school for almost three years now, the story tellers could not point him out and prove that he does, in fact, exist and that they are not pulling anybody’s chain.
~ * ~
I wonder what he is doing here. Well the reason is quite obvious; he’s here to take this class. So the question is probably how. How is it possible that he would be attending this class when the last time I heard, students from the seminary school are only allowed to go outside once a month and are not allowed to take classes outside. Probably doesn’t matter right now. The important thing is that he is here.
He sure grew up to be quite a looker. Not a surprise really, he was cute even back then. The reason no girl from our grade ever thought about taking him on was, for the most part, because of his age. No fourteen year old girl would date a twelve year old kid. Then of course there’s the obstacle of actually getting close to him.
In contrast to his parents’ extrovert personalities, Robert was painfully shy. I remember that he rarely spoke in class, uttering only the correct answer when asked a question during recitation. He spoke even less outside of class. And when he did speak, his comments were usually off, like he didn’t know the right thing to say and so he said the first thing that came to his head.
He also constantly fidgeted, a behavior that most of our teachers back in the day attributed to him being nervous. To us, we considered him to be just plain antsy and weird. As a very forgetful girl, I used to leave one or two items on my desk and would need to go back to the classroom to get them. It was during these trips that I would sometimes witness a teacher or two ask Robert if he was okay or if he had a problem that he needs to talk to somebody about. Robert always answered that he’s fine. After the initial wave of concern was given to him, I noticed that he appeared to have taken steps to lessen his fidgeting. From getting up and sharpening his already sharp pencils, he moved on to a less obvious behavior which is biting his pencils. A few weeks later we learned that his parents have formally filed for separation.
The only time he looked like he is comfortable in his own skin was when he’s taking a test or singing with the church choir, for though he didn’t inherit his parents’ social graces; he certainly inherited their most valuable gifts. Well that and his mother’s looks too I suppose.
I must admit that the only reason I continued to attend Sunday Mass back then was so I could see him and hear him sing, which he does so only every other week since he alternated being in the choir and performing his duties as an altar boy. Just because I would die of embarrassment if I were caught dating him, it didn’t mean that I couldn’t ogle him. And ogle him, I did. It was the closest I got to having a religious experience while attending mass.
It sounds perverted, I know. But in my defense I was a teenager with raging hormones and he was the epitome of an angel, with his blonde looks, white robes and heavenly voice. Come to think of it, I still am a teenager with raging hormones while he still looks very much like an angel. And my raging hormones are telling me that I should take the empty seat beside him and get the two of us acquainted with each other again. With the professor still M.I.A., making a new friend is not a bad way to pass the time.