Chapter Text
Jim and Toby had spent the entire day touching people with the gaggletack without revealing any changelings. There was only one person in the school left to try, and that was Mr. Strickler. Jim didn't want to believe his teacher could be an evil troll, but Toby was insistent that they had to make sure. Toby's ploy of "dropping" the iron horseshoe so the man would pick it up didn't work at all, only earning a pointed remark. Toby had said there was no way they could get the horseshoe in physical contact with the history teacher, but Jim wasn't ready to give up.
Getting Mr. Strickler to touch the gaggletack was never going to happen, that was true. But maybe there was another way. It didn't occur to Jim until later that night after they had discovered and killed the changeling dental hygienist. He was lying in bed when the thought hit him. Maybe he could use part of the gaggletack. Jim set an alarm on his phone so he'd wake up early. Hopeful of this new idea, he let himself fall asleep.
He woke up earlier than usual the next morning. Still half-asleep, it took the young man a second to remember why he woke up early. With a jolt, he remembered his idea from last night. Using only part of the gaggle tack might work, but how? He thought about his strange, half-baked idea while he got dressed. There was no way he could break off a piece. Was this really as good of an idea as he'd thought? He sat at his desk, staring at the not-magical-looking-at-all horseshoe.
He dropped his head to the desk and sighed loudly. The impact caused his electric pencil sharpener to pop open, and some of the pencil shavings fell out. Jim just stared at the thing, mildly annoyed at the mess. He tried to blow the graphite dust away, but accidentally inhaled some of it, making him cough. Wait a second... that was it! He could file off some iron shavings from the stupid gaggletack! He had no clue how to actually get them onto Strickler, but he'd figure that part out later.
Jim managed to find a steel rasp in the garage, and rushed back up to his room to get to work. He didn't have all that long before he'd need to make breakfast for his mom and leave for school. Filing the gaggletack wasn't easy, and Jim had to concentrate hard on the task to get any shavings. He was so focused on his task that his alarm startled him when it went off, and he fell out of his chair, flailing. He knocked into the leg of the desk as he falls, and some of the iron shavings are thrown into the air. Not having seen the shavings falling, he spluttered when they fell into his mouth.
"Well, I really could've done without magical horseshoe dust in my mouth," he groaned. Jim laid there for a moment, wishing he'd slept longer. Oh crap! He needed to make his mom breakfast and pack three lunches!
"I'm gonna be late to school - again!" he groaned, grabbing his backpack as he dashed downstairs to the kitchen. He danced around the kitchen, putting bread in the toaster as he grabbed ingredients. While the eggs started to cook, he grabbed a plate and utensils, setting them out. Another twist allowed him to grab a banana for his mom to take with her. He finished cooking the eggs in short order and grabbed the toast after it popped up. He took a slice for himself and ate it while he packed three bags of food- lunch for Toby and himself, and dinner for his mother. He rushed out through the garage, mounting his bike as he greeted Toby. In his hurry to avoid detention, Jim completely forgot about the gaggletack shavings.
The school day passed normally, Jim breezing through most of his classes. All too soon, it was time for rehearsal, and Toby left to go home and probably chat with Aaarrrggghh. Romeo and Juliet was no less awkward than always, trying not to stare at Claire while reading his lines. Most of rehearsal went fine, and he managed to remember most of his cues for today's scenes, and avoided the drama teacher’s wrath. Jim was feeling pretty okay today, but like always, he wasn't that lucky.
Halfway through rehearsal, Jim noticed that he felt strange. As the students continued with the play, Jim's discomfort grew. By the time the teacher let everyone go, the feeling was very distinctly pain. It was a throbbing pain in his gut. Maybe going to the restroom would help? He had just made it through the door of the boy's restroom when a huge cramp hit him, and he doubled over, clutching his stomach. It took a good two minutes for the pain to ease, and Jim was... Not Okay. The boy straightened back up, hands still clutching his stomach.
"Oh god."
His stomach was... solid. Like… like muscle cramp stiffness. Yeah.
"Take a deep breath, you're fine, nothing's wrong. It's probably just muscle stiffness from Trollhunter training. Yeah, it must be," he muttered to himself. Rationalizing, anyone?
Jim went into a stall near the end, latching the door before leaning back against it. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down. Reaching for the bottom of his shirt, he grabbed it tightly. Just barely staving off panic, he inched the bottom of his shirt up, pulling his jacket along with it.
"What the fuck."
That... that wasn't muscle stiffness. Muscle stiffness would certainly be a hell of a lot better than this. His stomach... wasn't the right color. There was a large, gray-blue splotch, starting at his bellybutton, and he could see it spreading as he watched. Hesitant, Jim grazed the area with his fingertips.
"Stone?" he puzzled. Deciding panic was now appropriate, he loudly whispered "What's happening to me?!"
Jim's head made a solid thunk as it fell back against the stall door. He scrunched his eyes closed tightly, trying to convince himself he was dreaming, or something. He didn't hear footsteps approaching in the hallway, but he definitely heard the restroom door open. The creak seemed louder than normal, startling him. Paranoid, he sat on the toilet and pulled his feet up and out of sight. Jim got his feet up onto the seat just before the footsteps round the separating wall into the main part of the restroom.
The footsteps were definitely an adult's, but Jim had no clue who would still be here at this time. Regardless of whom it was, Jim hoped they didn't notice him. Jim was still not that lucky, and the footsteps stopped halfway to him. Crap, I've been noticed, Jim thought.
The person knocked on the stall door. "I was under the impression after-school activities had already concluded," they said. "Are you quite well?"
That was Mr. Strickler. Probably the worst teacher Jim could've encountered right now.
"The custodians will not be here much longer, and they will lock the doors when they depart." Mr. Strickler continued.
Jim stayed silent, but his history teacher just waited patiently.
After a few moments of silence on both their parts, Jim realized that being silent would not make the man leave, so he responded "It's me, Mr. Strickler."
"Mr. Lake?" The man sounded surprised. "Is something the matter, my boy?"
Jim put his feet down. "No?" he tried.
"That... wasn't very convincing, Mr. Lake." Strickler said.
Jim tried to come up with a credible lie. He could only think of one thing. "I'm, uh... I'm having some stomach problems."
"Ah, I see," the man said, "Well, if you are able to... leave the restroom, the teachers' lounge might have some ginger ale that we could fetch for you."
Jim made a face. "Uh, sure. That would probably be a good idea, sir – I'll just be a couple more minutes."
The man said nothing more, just walked to the urinals to relieve himself, and Jim felt simultaneously anxious and awkward. He waited until the man was washing his hands to tear some toilet paper off the roll and flush it down the toilet - for believability. Jim tried to pass off zipping his jacket as zipping his pants, and then zipped it up the rest of the way to sound like his jacket. The younger man hesitated in unlocking the stall door, but he put on a mildly embarrassed expression before opening it and stepping out. Strickler had an eyebrow raised and a questioning expression.
Jim shrugged slightly, "Sorry, sir."
The history teacher didn't mention Jim's supposed... issues, just said "That's alright Mr. Lake." and crossed behind the boy to make his way to the door. The man waited patiently while Jim washed and dried his hands, before speaking again. "I have the appropriate keys, so shall we make our way to the teachers' lounge?" Jim nodded awkwardly, rather uncomfortable with the situation.
It took them less than ten minutes to get there, ten awkward, silent minutes. The older man pulled out a set of keys and unlocked the door. He stepped into the room, gesturing for Jim to follow. Jim entered the room hesitantly, wanting nothing more than to go home.
"Take a seat while I look for the ginger ale. I'll just be a moment." Strickler said.
Jim perched on the edge of a chair, waiting for his teacher. Mr. Strickler glanced in the fridge, and, apparently not seeing any of the beverage in question, went to a nearby pantry. Jim could see cases of sodas and various snacks filling the shelves. The older man looked up and down before giving an 'aha!' and crouching slightly to get something from a low shelf. He closed the pantry, and, soda can in hand, came to sit at the table Jim's chair was at.
Jim watched Mr. Strickler slide the can across the table to him. He didn't really like ginger ale, but opened the can and took a few sips. After a minute or two of Jim continuing to look at Sticklers’ encouraging expression then taking another couple of sips, the soda can had been mostly depleted. Jim lowered his hands, holding the can on his lap. He glanced at his teacher again, and then looked down at the can in his lap. After a few moments, unsure what to do, Jim put the mostly empty can on the table.
"Feeling any better now, young Atlas?" Strickler asked, seeing the can on the table.
"Uh, yeah, much better, thanks sir. For the ginger ale, I mean." Jim lied. He was still experiencing the pain from before, but had been trying ignore it. "I should probably head home, sir. I've got to make dinner." Jim said.
"Are you feeling up to riding your bicycle home, and then making dinner, young man?" The older man asked.
"Yes sir, like I said the ginger ale helped a lot," Jim replied "and there are some oven- ready meals in our freezer, and I'm just feeding me tonight."
Mr. Strickler had a dubious expression, concerned about his favorite student's welfare. "If you're certain, then let me take you to your bicycle. So as to reassure a concerned teacher, yes?" he said.
Jim figured he needed to get home as soon as possible and talk to Blinky, so he agreed to his teacher's conditions. Strickler suggested he go get his car so he could drive behind Jim until their paths split. The younger man agreed and walked off. By the time he got to his bike, Strickler had driven his car around to the bike racks. Boy, was Jim was relieved to see it. He unchained his bike and brought it out of the rack while Strickler watched from his car. Jim stood there with his bike and looked at his teacher. After a couple moments of trying to not make eye contact, Jim broke the silence.
"So, uh... I should probably get going. I've got homework I need to finish, after all."
"Yes, of course. We wouldn't want you to get behind on your schoolwork," the man said. "If you start riding towards your house I will follow until our paths diverge. Just to make certain you have no further issues, you understand."
Jim nodded and took his bike to the road. Once there, he checked that his bag was completely zipped and went to get on his bike. He never made it onto the bike. There was a small cramping in his midsection, but Jim ignored it. Just when he tried to swing his leg over the bike, a huge cramp hit him. The sudden agony caused Jim to fall, and he just barely managed to stop his head and face from hitting the asphalt, sacrificing his hands and knees instead. Jim dropped himself the rest of the way to the ground, curling tightly into himself.