The Impossible is Possible (Ryden)

Chapter 2

The class that Brendon has really been looking forward to is Music.

He's never really had the dedication to stick to playing one instrument, and so he can play many - just not very well. He knows the basics, he just never gets interested enough to take them further. Still, in his old school, Music was the only class he really excelled in, and he hopes that won't change now.

Once again, he and Spencer sit at desks next to one another, close to the front of the classroom. Brendon is thankful that some people from his other classes aren't in this one; Timothy and his friends, namely, don't seem to be taking the subject. The class is smaller and quieter, with people who Brendon can see himself hanging around with someday.

The teacher strolls in just as there's a general lull in conversation amongst the students. She's a thin, middle-aged woman, with a pointed chin and a set of stern, grey eyes. She's a far cry from the weed-smoking, approachable man that taught the subject in Brendon's old school, and he begins to realise that perhaps this won't be his favourite class, after all.

"You," she says, sharply, interrupting his thoughts. He looks up from his desk to find that she's staring - no, glaring - at him, her bony arms folded tightly over her flat chest. "You're the new boy, I take it?"

"Yes, Miss."

"It's not a very good start if you're not paying attention, is it?" she snaps, shaking his head disapprovingly. "Normally, I'd make you take a test before entering my class, but I decided to be kind and let you in. So, I'd like it very much if you could actually listen."

Brendon is ninety-nine percent sure that there had been nothing to actually listen to, but he's not about to say it. Instead, he resists rolling his eyes, having had this conversation far more times than he'd like to count. "Sorry, Miss, but I have a condition called ADHD, short for attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, which means that I --"

"I'm not sure I care," she cuts through him, unfolding her arms and instead putting her hands on her hips. "All that I care about is you attending and contributing well. If you don't do as you should, I don't want you here. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Miss," Brendon mumbles, sinking lower in his seat. Most people, when faced with an explanation as to his distraction, treat him sympathetically, even condescendingly. It seems, however, that this teacher - Mrs. Harris, he remembers from his timetable - isn't about to treat him any differently to anybody else. It's a little disconcerting.

"Right. Now that we're all paying attention, I'll explain --"

She trails off, however, as the classroom door opens with a slam, and a student slouches in. It's Ryan Ross - the strange boy that Spencer had warned Brendon about - and he doesn't look at anybody when he comes in, instead heading straight to his desk in the corner of the room, and sitting down heavily at it.

The teacher, Brendon suddenly notices, looks uncertain as to whether or not she should say anything. It make Brendon a little indignant; if it was him who had strolled in late, he feels sure he'd have been shouted at, at the very least. Mrs. Harris clears her throat, and straightens to her full, rather unimpressive, height.

"Ryan?" she attempts, voice strangely tender and hesitant. Ryan looks up from the corner, looking decidedly uninterested. "Do you care to explain why you're late?"

"Not really," he replies, and looks back down at his hands.

Mrs. Harris struggles with herself for a moment, but then just sighs and gives in. To the rest of the class, she looks stern once more, and clears her throat again. "As I was saying, I'd like to assign you all a project for the coming weeks. I'm going to partner you all together and I wish you for to create a piece of music for me. It sounds simple, but I want real music. Use whatever instruments you want, or can, but I want something original. That can be your homework project for the next few weeks, whilst we focus upon composition in class. I'll be grading you on the piece, too, once you perform it to the class - so I want your very best, with lots of time put into it."