Chapter Text
For the average student, the beginning of the school year means receiving introductions to new classes and students, familiarizing oneself with the locations of new classrooms and locations, and flipping open a fresh notebook to start the semester off on the right foot. Getting back to school after over two months of lazing around a warm pool can be a struggle initially, especially when it comes to readjusting a sleep schedule that has been sorely wrecked over the long break. Still, it doesn't take long for most to fall back into a routine that they've come to recognize for the past couple of years - a normal and healthy school-life balance.
Minerva Academy students are not the average type. Instead of meeting with friends on Friday afternoons, they can be found refining their theses in several corners of the school's library, away from prying eyes and the inevitable distraction of a classmate strolling in with a volume far louder than what is allowed in such a setting. When others are taking a well-deserved break during their lunch periods, academy students are taking their bags to the cafeteria, aiming to get all the more work done during the personal time dedicated to themselves only; if there aren't enough hours in a school day to complete all that is needed, then time will be stretched as needed, no questions asked. And when students from other schools and districts gear up for the all-prized Homecoming week of the first semester, Minerva Academy students look forward to the ever-encompassing-
*SLAP*
You flinch back as someone's hand cuts through your vision while on your way to first period, hitting the metal locker with a loud reverberation that is only dully heard over the murmur of conversing students roaming the halls before the bell. God, do these people not have any spatial perception? At least the decency to wait until people pass before causing a racket? You look to see who you nearly ran into after they carelessly pushed through the crowd, only to be met by violet eyes glancing down at you, looking surprised and the slightest bit apologetic for disrupting the flow of traffic in the hallway. However, before you can make any type of response, the sheepishness is replaced by a light tease as the kid recovers and keeps moving forward, their back directed towards you. Alright, that narrows it down to a first year. Of course. Immature idiots...You shoot a glare at the cocky student before turning back to the locker that they had passed, noticing that there was now something stuck on it. Upon closer inspection, you realize that it's a campaign poster, and you visibly wince at the possibility of having a kid like that as one of the student leaders.
As per tradition at Minerva Academy since its founding, the student council elections are held the first week of September of each school year, allowing all students from any grades to participate in the process, with the only requirement being that a student must complete a campaign form - stating which position they're running for, whether it be president, secretary, treasury, or enforcer - by the end of the second week of school to be submitted for the election. Once all documents have been returned and approved, any campaign strategies that students go forth with are all fair game; may the best candidate win.
You stare at the poster for a few moments, taking in its design. Despite your distaste for the annoying kid, you had to admit that their flyer was pretty nice, at the very least: in its center was a picture of a tall boy standing behind a large canvas (the artwork depicted was shockingly impressive and looked strangely reminiscent of a master artist. Rembrandt, perhaps?), casually resting his arms against its top. A black border was drawn on the edge of the image, creating a white margin around the poster, and a bold, serif font was positioned just above the boy's head: MARIUS VON HAGEN FOR STUDENT COUNCIL PRESI- aw, hell no. Several previous leadership positions were listed underneath the title, but you stopped reading the moment you saw the name.
There's a singular name that haunts the minds of those who have attended Minerva Academy since the year 2020: Giann von Hagen, the pinnacle of academic and professional character in all years since Minerva Academy was established (direct quote from your headmistress, you remember, during your first year orientation). The von Hagens were already a prominent name in Stellis City by then, the family having founded and still directing the immense PAX Corporation, and it was no surprise that the eldest son of the von Hagens was sent to the most prestigious high school in the area when he reached the age; apparently, though, there was a pretty hefty scandal that arose due to this, with some news outlets speculating if the family had sent bribes to the school to allow Giann to be admitted. Safe to say...such conjecture was shut down remarkably fast. Perhaps it was the media backlash and the aim of fire at his family name that resulted in this, but Giann swept away any remaining comments that questioned his intellect and ability to perform up to the academy's standards, as he successfully won student council president all four years of high school; helped establish and support several of the student organizations at the school (most of which are still active); and graduated in the top 10 of his class.
To say he was "able" would be an understatement: the guy had discipline that most could even hope to have in their lifetime. Though if you had to be honest, you were getting really sick of hearing about all of the grand achievements of a student you've never met, when it was constantly reiterated time and time again. There was a part of you that felt a little bad for Marius, knowing that he had huge shoes to fill, but if he is anything like his older brother, he'd probably receive the same amount of redundant reverence just by association. God, this could get annoying fast. It made you think back to the last council president the school had as you continued on your way. He was pretty good at his position; nothing overly spectacular in comparison to the alumni (that's a hard bar to beat), but you supposed that he was still very active and receptive to the student body, and that's always a good thing. Coincidentally, you passed by that very boy when you turned the hall's corner, but the student made no acknowledgement of you, though not on purpose, as you saw him speak to some underclassmen regarding what you believed to be either about the school election or one of the many associations he was a part of before you passed.
Giann may be considered Minerva Academy's "Golden Boy," but Artem Wing had to be a second runner-up at the very least, especially with how extensive his resumé was becoming despite only being a third year this year. If there was anything a student ever needed to know about the inner workings of the school, or at minimum how to cruise along easily enough through the academy's rigorous courses, it wouldn't take long for Artem to swoop in and handle the issue with diligence and care, regardless of who it was or what was needed. If there was something that needed to be done, then by all means, he would be willing to step in for support. Initially, it seemed strange to you and a good majority of the school that Artem had decided not to run for student council president this year, even though he had won the election for the past two years he had attended and was relatively well-liked by the student body. However, after learning of his nominations and subsequent appointments as both the DECA and Speech and Debate captains, respectively (not including the fact that he had been a varsity swimmer since his second year as well), it made sense: his workload was already weighty, and being the council's president would only add exponentially to that. Despite this, if there was one thing that Artem recognized, it was that top universities looked at potential students from a holistic perspective and needed a background to support it; even if he wasn't going to be student council president for all four years of high school, sticking to the organization at the very least would show colleges that he didn't merely float around without direction. And trust the student body's opinion, Artem had a strict direction for his future.
Despite missing you the first time, Artem gave a small wave towards just as you slipped into the library to avoid the crowds, and you did your best to return the act before you were fully out of sight. Hopefully he saw that, but you didn't dwell on it for long. The deadline for your final papers for all of your core classes will be here before you know it, regardless of how "far away" they seem now, and you're not keen on cramming in five essays the night before they're due.
Someone is sitting in your favorite spot in the library when you walk in, face hidden behind an open novel in a language that you don't understand. Though their position was dignified and proper in the plush chair, there was an air of confrontation and rebelliousness lingering around the kid as they flipped through the book, a soft rustling emanating from their corner every so often; the two things didn't match, but humans are multifaceted creatures, you guessed...at least, that's what your psychology teacher always emphasized in each of her lessons. As minor as this incident may be, you couldn't help but frown as you looked around for other areas to place your belongings in. But just as you scoped out a space that you could use, the student lounging in your favorite chair peered over the top of their book and met your gaze, their eyes slightly obscured by large black frame glasses. Despite this, this feature looked strangely familiar to you, and you swore you had seen such a unique trait in the past. Before you could react, the student shut their book with a light snap before grabbing their bag and striding out of the room quickly, not bothering to look back and keeping their gaze fixed ahead and away from everyone else (not just you specifically, thank God). Well...that was awkward, but hey, your spot's open now. However, instead of quickly taking your study space, your eyes remained fixated on the departing student for a few extra moments as you watched them leave, the memories clicking into place slowly yet definitively.
Despite being a school that prided itself on accepting any and all foreign exchange students, Minerva Academy always had very few of them, if any, for some years. In fact, you hadn't seen a new foreign exchange student at all during your time at the academy until the second semester of your third year, when all of a sudden, your homeroom teacher was ushering a boy you'd never seen before up to the front of the classroom. Judging by his initial reluctance, he didn't seem eager to do so. Vyn Richter, a second-year exchange student from Svart, and an image of apathy as he stared into the eyes of the students whom he would be forced to recognize as his classmates for the rest of the year: he looked less than thrilled at the thought. You remember his amber eyes, overly piercing as if he had the ability to dissect the internals of the people he gazed upon, and you remember the light accent that woven itself into his perfect speech, almost unnoticeable unless one took the time to listen just a little closer. Even with his eccentric nature, though, Vyn easily slid into a space he found for himself in the academy as he upended his class's rankings with a simple sweep of exceptional grades (he felt nothing of it when people scowled at him for managing a top 5% rank by the end of the semester), keeping himself just in sight yet out of reach for other students. This reclusiveness made you a little surprised when you saw his campaign poster for student treasury a couple of days ago, promising to allocate funds to help open a school greenhouse for the science department, but he must've believed he had a solid enough determination and chance to win for him to attempt to run against more of the well-known candidates. Oh well, good luck to him.
You sit down in your favorite seat before unzipping your backpack, taking out your laptop to get to some work done before the passing period bell rings out. 20 minutes before then, not too bad, and it doesn't take you long before you fall into an easy rhythm with your research paper. It's fascinating how many resources you can find for your topic if you just use the correct search terms, but it would've been easier if your databases had just populated what you wanted earlier instead of going through loops to find what you need. About 15 minutes into your work period, you notice someone (some people?) hovering around the table near you out of the corner of your eye --- seemingly putting away a few checked-out textbooks into a bag --- and you briefly look up to see who it is. Oh, it's those two. Quick wave. Alright, back to work for the last few minutes.
Righteousness is one of the key principles of Minerva Academy, and it's a concept that the school's headmistress had well-established during the yearly first-year orientation. Per your headmistress's words, "if you wish to change the world, you must first change your environment for the better," and there's no student at the academy who embodies this principle more than Reese Kinsley. Even from her first day at the institution, she was already making waves in pushing for better change in the academy's rules and regulations (respectfully, of course). It takes guts to post a petition on the supervised community bulletin board in the commons, demanding the allowance of appropriate jewelry as a part of the extremely narrow and strict dress code, but to hell with it, Reese continued forward with it anyway. Perhaps through sheer force of will, maybe, the petition was taken seriously, and the dress code was changed the following semester; you say a little word of thanks to Reese whenever you put on your rings in the morning. With a drive and a will like that, it's no wonder she cemented herself as a prominent figure in the school, despite only being a first-year when she petitioned the school for change. You think back to the pink and red poster you saw hanging outside the girls' restroom, announcing Reese as a candidate for the student race for student council president, and a pleasant conclusion situates itself in the back of your mind as you finish up copying your citations: sorry, von Hagen, but you're giving your vote to Reese this time. Better luck next year. As you shut your laptop with only a minute and a half left to spare before the bell, you hear the boy with her silently curse at something as you shift your attention back to them shortly.
When one enters Minerva Academy for the first time, they'll most likely be drawn to the large awards cabinet fixed to the right wall of the hallway, a bright white light streaming down against the reflective gold trophies from various academic and art departments. However, if you were to examine the trophies displayed for the science department (near the end of the case), you'll probably detect a repeating name listed throughout the several prizes shown: Luke Pearce - First Year. To be accepted to Minerva Academy is one thing, with its extraordinarily difficult admission requirements, but it's something entirely different to be a STEM-focused student when you make it there, especially with how competitive the subject is for the student population. But Luke is...well, an anomaly of sorts, as he breezed through the subject with an ease most of the older students didn't have. It almost seemed like a consensus between all of the science teachers to have him as a team member on the school's team for the Science Olympiad and National Science Bowl, and the plan worked like a dream. All of Luke's teachers adore him for the fact that he picks up anything they present to him with no issue, memorizing and applying their information after only a few exposures; to put it simply, it's easy to teach a kid who's genuinely willing to learn and discover, even if it results in a few sparks flying out of the laboratory. It reminds you of the time you walked in on him trying to fan away a few flames that had erupted after he accidentally exposed a sample of phosphorus to high amounts of oxygen...good times. You squint slightly when you spot something stuck onto the side of one of the library shelves. Ah, so they've been hung up here too, as you manage to discern the pale yellow poster hanging slightly crooked on the surface. You aren't sure how good of an enforcer Luke would be, considering how happy-go-lucky he always appears, but best wishes, you suppose.
"I swear to God, I think he's trying to annoy me on purpose." As you put your items back into your bag, you catch a glimpse of Luke holding something in front of Reese to read, a sour look etched onto his face. Is that...oh yeah, that's the paper you passed by after Marius cut you off in the hallway. You forgot that Luke's locker is in the same vicinity as yours this year, and it just so happened that Marius singled out the second year --- unlucky guy. You couldn't see Reese's expression from your position, but you could hear a short huff of laughter from her after a moment of silence. You smiled slightly as you got up and headed out of the library the moment the bell rang.
Apologies with all due respect, Marius, but you might just be screwed this time.