How can a bad day get worse? Just ask Neil...if he survives...!
Disclaimer: Class of the Titans is a property of Studio B. In no way am I making a profit from writing this fan fiction story.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I have been debating on writing this one before my other COTT story, Vengeance: A Dish Served Cold/, but I had to still work out the loop-holes from this story. Since /Vengeance: A Dish Served Cold had been sorted out first I decided to start that instead. But now that I have completely figured out the entire frame of where I want this story to head I am now posting it for you.
Please bear with me if my updates are not frequent. My schedules are usually pretty busy and I rarely get a chance to focus on my writing, but please enjoy what I do update and don't forget to send me a review once in a while. I'd love to hear from you!
Chapter 1: A Bad Start
The alarm clock goes off, buzzing incessantly until the blond boy snoring in the bed beside it slowly stirs and reaches out to turn it off with a grunt of annoyance. With a big yawn, he removes his green padded blindfold from his eyes, blinking rapidly to clear up fuzziness and glances at the clock.
"Wha...?" At first he isn't sure if it is the correct time he is seeing. The numbers he reads on the clock says 5:15am.
"NO!" He shouts in horror, bolting out from under the bed sheets in an instant, "I'm late...!!!"
Neil suddenly remembers that he had already pushed the snooze button a few times already.
Quickly, Neil tears off his monogrammed green pajamas and tosses them carelessly onto the floor. He reaches for his good black and white t-shirt and black pants, not to mention a pair of clean boxer underpants and a pair of white socks too. After pulling them all on at super speed, the blond teen hero pushes and twists his feet into his white and black striped sneakers. This whole performance he did in just under two minutes. Being a model, Neil is quick at changing and putting on clothes, especially if he is in a show.
What seems to be a flawless clothing change suddenly and unexpectedly turns chaotic; in his mad rush to the door, he trips over one piece of his pajamas lying right in his path and falls flat on the floor with a resounding thud.
"Ow...!" He groans. Frantically he gets up and runs out of his bedroom.
Neil practically flies into the bathroom and flips on the light switch. Heading straight for the sink, he grabs his tooth brush and squeezes the toothpaste onto it. With a quick thrust, Neil shoves the toothbrush into his mouth and begins to brush his teeth wildly. After a making sure every tooth has been thoroughly brushed, he spits out the fluorite paste. He then grabs a cup which bore his first initial on it sitting on the counter next to the sink and pours some water into it. Thus done, Neil takes a mouthful and starts swishing the liquid from cheek to cheek rapidly for a few seconds then spitting it out into the sink.
Absently, he slams the toothbrush and cup on the counter by the sink and runs out of the bathroom and into his bedroom. He grabs his favorite brush and quickly combing his hair so it doesn't look so out of place. As soon as he is sure his hair is good to go, he throws down the brush and picks up his black and white wrist bands. He puts them on before grabbing his backpack and, most importantly, his three-sided-monogrammed pocket mirror. "Okay! I'm all set!" He declares proudly. Careful not to repeat his careless trip with his crumpled pajamas on the floor, Neil runs out of his room, slamming the door behind him, and down the hall.
Hearing the loud racket, Jay opens the door with a wide yawn from within his own bedroom just in time to see Neil racing down the hall towards him. "Hey, what's happening out here, Neil?" The team leader calls out. Neil does not stop; he rushes past his friend so fast, Jay's hair flutters in the breeze.
"Sorry, can't talk...I'm late...!" Neil cries in a panic, leaving Jay to stare after him with a befuddled expression on his face. The young model teen's feet makes loud thumping noises as he pounds frantically down the stairs. The last thing Jay hears is the loud bang of the front door being slammed shut.
Herry opens his bedroom door right across the hall from Jay's room and sticks his head out, looking somewhat annoyed. "What's going on?" Herry yawned tiredly. "It's five in the morning and its Saturday. There better be a good reason for all the noise!"
"If I were to make a guess, I'd say Neil is running late for his modeling shoot." The brunette boy deduces with a shake of his head as he leaned his tired body up against the door frame.
"On a Saturday...?" Herry looks at his friend with a puzzled expression.
Jay shrugs. "Well, being he has school during the week I guess the best solution is for him to have a shoot on a weekend."
The brawn teen groans. "Whatever...I'm going back to bed!" He lets out a loud yawn again and closes the door behind him.
"Good idea," Jay nods in agreement before closing his own door and returning to his bed.
As fast as Neil can on his own feet, he dashes down the sidewalk. But he is not paying attention to where he is going, and while crossing the street he is nearly hit by a passing car. Neil manages to hop out of the way just in time before the car comes to a complete stop.
"Hey, watch it! Can't you see I'm running here?" He screams at the startled driver and keeps on running down the other sidewalk. He can hear the driver cursing loudly at him. Incensed at being called such rude names, Neil turns his head to sling insult for insult back at the driver.
As he does so he fails to notice a man coming out of a nearby coffee shop with a hot beverage in his hand. Before Neil scarcely realizes what is happening, he crashes into the man. The hot coffee in the man's mug spills out and splashes all down the white part of Neil's shirt.
"Oh come on...!" Neil shouts, dancing around wildly in frustration and agony as the scalding hot liquid drips down through his shirt and onto his delicate skin.
"Hey kid, watch where you're going!" The man yells furiously.
"Hey pal, you watch where you're going, I'm in a hurry here!" The teen boy retorts angrily. Before the man could yell again at him, Neil speeds away.
Neil rushes into the building of the modeling agency where he works. Gasping, he bends over and grasps his knees, quite out of breath. Never have he had to run so long so fast before! As his pounding heart and his ragged breath slowly returns to normal, he looks around, wondering if Frankie, his photographer, is here yet. When he notices no one besides himself is here, Neil lets out a sigh of relief. Regardless of his rough morning, it would appear his good luck still holds.
With that reassuring thought he feels he can relax now. Acting nonchalantly, Neil walks in his personal dressing room. As soon as he enters he immediately starts checking himself out in the mirror. With a loud groan, he pouts over his now ruined, coffee-stained shirt.
"That'll never come out," he whines.
As Neil goes to take off his backpack and place it on the table in front of him, he notices at once a strange jacket draped over the chair beside him.
"Hm, this isn't one of mine," the blond teen ponders to himself.
Just then the door opens and a tall dark teen walks in. His hair is a brown shade with red highlights. He has a long face but with a broader chin. As soon as he notices Neil the stranger stops in his tracks and stares oddly at the blond teen. "What are you doing here?" He finally asks.
Neil gives him a skeptical look before coming to a conclusion as who this new stranger could be.
"Ah, you must be new here..." He says in a snobbish way.
"Um, yeah, I am." The darker teen responds sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.
"Is this your jacket?" Neil asks him, gesturing toward the chair.
"Oh, yes it is. Nice isn't it?" The boy responds with a proud grin. "I got it when my aunt visited Paris!"
"Heh, charming..." Neil says, rolling his eyes skyward. "Ah, listen; there must be some misunderstanding here. In case you weren't told this is my dressing room."
"Oh, I'm sorry...I was just to-" The boy begins to say, jerking his thumb out towards the hallway.
"Look that's ok. These things happen." Neil says, cutting the boy off and handing him his jacket. "Just go down the hall over there. That's where all the new models change."
"Ah..." The bewildered dark boy looks as though he is about to say something. Just then the photographer appears in the doorway. He looks up and notices Neil speaking to the new model.
"Neil...? What are you doing here?" Frankie asks, quite surprised.
Now Neil is a bit confused. "What are you talking about, Frankie? I'm scheduled for a shoot this morning, remember?"
"Huh...? Oooh...," Frankie flinches as though he had just remembered something. "Didn't you get my message?"
"Message...?" Neil raises his eyebrow in concern. "What message?"
Frankie grimaces. "Ah, can I talk to you in my office, Neil? I think there is something we need to discuss."
Neil gives the other boy a quick suspicious glance and, with some trepidation, the blond teen follows Frankie into his office.
As he walks over to the photographer's desk, Neil tries to offer his excuse. "Look, Frankie, if this is about being late I can explain..." But Frankie shakes his head and waves him to quiet down. Curious and a bit bewildered, Neil watches the redheaded man go over some of his recent pictures. None of the pictures, to Neil's surprise, are of him - only of the newcomer who had showed up in his changing room.
Finally Frankie lets out a sigh but does not look at him. "Do you know what kind of business I run here, Neil?" The photographer says quietly.
Neil tilts his head, feeling even more confused. "Ah... A modeling business...?" The blond teen replies carefully.
"A modeling business..." Frankie echoes. "And what do I need to have a successful modeling business?" He asks, looking up at the descendent of Narcissus at last.
"Um...models...?" Neil answers cautiously, unsure where this conversation is really heading. He automatically makes a pouting look as he ponders this in thought.
Frankie nods once. "That's right Neil. I need models - models I can count on to come for their scheduled appointments. You get where I'm headed with this?" The redheaded photographer gestures toward Neil.
"Er...If this is about me being a tad late this morning - as I said, I can explain...I got here as fast as I could." Neil answers with a perplexed expression written on his face.
"Yes, I can see that..." Frankie murmurs, glancing down at the coffee stain down his former model's shirt. "But you have to understand Neil; you haven't just been late this morning. In fact, you've been late a few times and you have cancelled on me a few more due to some kind of family emergency as you put it."
"So, what are you saying exactly, Frankie?"
The photographer sighs again, and, laying his chin on top of his folded hands with his elbows resting on his desk, he finally drops a bombshell; "I'm sorry Neil; I have to let you go..."
Neil's jaw drops open. "Let me get this straight," He is beside himself as he stammers, staring incredulously at the photographer, "You're firing me?"
The photographer shrugs rather cold-heartily. "Sorry kid, but that's part of show business." With that he dismisses Neil before the young teen would utter a single word of protest.
As Neil leaves the studio and walks slowly down the hall as though in a daze, he pauses to gather his composure. The urge to break down and cry is too great. Taking a few deep breaths, Neil rests his head for a while in his hand. As soon as he knows he can control his emotions, Neil continues to walk out of the building. His head, though, is hanging forlornly down. It is as though all of his self-esteem has been left behind inside the studio.