The Best is Yet to Come (Chapter 1)

Author's Note: Yes, this is a high school AU, laugh all you want (though you're still reading this, so I must have done something right). I'm mainly posting it here now so I don't have to deal with a major influx of chapters later (the doc manager is a total pain). This was initially on my Metal Gear Amino (of the same name, if you're interested), and that's all I have left to say. I hope you enjoy.

The darkened bedroom was still and silent, with only a few rays of sunshine peeking through the curtains in the early morning. The tranquility wouldn't last long.

Dave's alarm clock blared. In his half-waking state, he threw his arm onto the snooze button and retracted it when the incessant buzzing ceased. "Why did that stupid alarm clock go off?" he muttered, pulling his blanket over himself again.

"Because it's the first day of school." A body rose from the bed across from Dave's, donned in blue sleep pants and a white tank top. He made his way to the light switch in the corner of the room and flicked it on.

"Yeah. Right." Dave threw the covers off of himself and sluggishly sat up. He instinctively shut his eyes from the harsh light. "I'm usually the one waking you up, Eli." he remarked, repressing a yawn.

"Just hurry up and get ready. You know how Mom hates us being late for breakfast." He now strided over to his dresser and pulled open the first drawer, tossing out a pair of socks.

"I'll be in the bathroom." Dave padded out in his own checkered pants and T-shirt to the small bathroom across the hall from his and Eli's room. He flipped the light switch on once inside, this time shielding his eyes from the luminous assault. He grabbed his toothbrush from the silver cup on the sink, applied toothpaste, and jammed the bristles into his mouth, scrubbing vigorously.

He heard knocking on the door. "Can I come in?" the voice outside asked.

"George?" Dave thrusted his face over the sink to catch the foam spilling from his mouth. "Don't worry about it, come in."

The door cracked open and George walked in, fully dressed in a maroon sweater vest with a dark blue collar peeking out and neatly pressed khakis. He reached over Dave to retrieve his own toothbrush.

Dave spit into the sink. "What's with the getup?"

"I just want to make a good first impression."

"Are you nervous or something?" Dave deposited his toothbrush back into the cup and took the bottle of face wash next to it.

George turned away. "N-Not at all! Good leaders have to look the part, you know!"

Dave rolled his eyes as he spread the charcoal colored gel over his face. "Right."

Dave bounded down the stairs dressed in a simple black V-neck and jeans, the scent of cooking eggs and bacon growing stronger. He entered the kitchen to find Eli already reclining in his chair at the table and his father reading the newspaper directly across from him. The scene was very much akin to a typical 1950s family.

"Good morning David," his mother warmly greeted. "Sit down; breakfast is almost ready."

Dave did as he was told, taking a seat next to his dad. He heard the crinkling of the newspaper as it was folded and placed to the side.

"Mornin' champ," he announced. "How ya feelin' about your first day of school?"

Dave shrugged his shoulders. "Alright, I guess." With the two next to each other, it was easy to see how much Dave was the spitting image of his old man: the brown hair, strong jawline, broad shoulders, and piercing blue eyes. His two other brothers had lighter hair and softer features, bearing more of a resemblance to their mother.

George came into the kitchen at last, completing the family gathering. "Morning Mom! Morning Dad!"

His mother broke out into a grin. "And good morning to you too!"

"Hey son." Dad forced himself into a weak smirk.

The clinking of dishes from the cupboard above the stove was heard, and servings of food were doled out. Everyone took their places at the table and ate.

"Dave, you're in ROTC, right?" Dad asked, shovelling a bite of egg into his mouth.

"Yes, Dad."

"Jeez, why the sudden hard-on for Dave in the military?" Eli whined.

"Because he has a future in service to our country," The older man plucked a strip of bacon off of his plate. "I can't say the same about you."

"Whatever."

After an awkward moment of silence, George eagerly piped up. "Dad, what are you gonna do today?"

"I'm going to train new troops at Fort Richardson. Apparently these guys need to be whipped into shape, badly."

"Then looks like you have your work cut out for you, Jack." Mom jeered.

The rest of breakfast passed by without a hitch, and Mom gathered the excess dishes. Dad approached her and gave her a quick kiss on her cherry red lips.

"Everyone, have a good first day." Mom announced.

"I will, Mom!" George said.

Eli scoffed and grabbed his car keys from the dish on the counter. "I'll drive."

"Do you know the way?" Dave asked while slipping on his backpack.

"Yes, I do. Don't worry about it." Eli slung his own bag over his shoulder. "Let's go."

The first day of school always brought heart-wrenching anxiety to Hal.

He'd barely slept the night before; he was too busy replaying the events of previous years in his head, and contemplating the new levels of cruelty he would experience.

The next morning, he saw in the mirror while wiping the sweat off of his face how pale and tired he looked. He splashed water onto his face, hoping the dark circles under his eyes would wash away like fresh ink on paper. The raggedy reflection still stared back at him, just a little wetter now. Sighing, he sulked back to his room and pulled on his outfit, a blue button-up shirt and beige pants. He placed his glasses delicately on his nose and adjusted the circular frames.

He then went to go check on his stepsister in her room, which was right next to his. He cracked the door open gently. Still sleeping, her teddy bear caught in a death grip between her spindly arms. He breathed a chuckle and slowly pulled the door shut. Hal then peeked into his parents' open entryway. As he figured, his mother (well, stepmother) was out cold, tangled up in her blankets across the whole length of the bed, his father nowhere to be seen.

Hal travelled downstairs and into the family's spacious kitchen. He decided to only grab a handful of berries from the fridge for breakfast, as his stomach was too tight from nerves for much more. He still had to make something for his sister, though. He was running late already, so he removed the toaster from the cabinet below him and found a lone slice of bread in the breadbox to shove in there. He went about gathering all of his school supplies in the meantime: floppy disks for his computer classes, pencils, binders with notebooks and sticky notes tucked inside, and a spare change of clothes. He heard the toaster pop, and rushed back into the kitchen to yank it out. Blowing on his fingers, he opened the nearby cupboard for a jar of peanut butter and the silverware drawer for a butter knife. He hurriedly spread the paste on the bread and placed it on a plate and on the counter, cleaning everything up in record time. He knew how his stepmother hated a messy kitchen.

He then slipped on a pair of sneakers and raced out the door to the bus stop around the corner. The neighborhood he lived in was quite upscale and well maintained, ornate gardens dotting the areas around the street and houses, which all stood at equal height, fighting for sun exposure. The upper stories all accommodated winding balconies, usually with patio furniture scattered along the length to gaze at wildlife or the setting sun. Across the street from the bus stop, there was a pristine lake enclosed by pine rising sun tinted the crystal water a pastel pink, completing the soothing and vibrant color scheme of the scenery.

Hal stopped to catch his breath under a manicured tree close to the stop. A few other teenagers were already waiting in the area, either leaning on the fences of nearby homes or just standing around. He adjusted his glasses and waited under the tree for the bus to come, hoping it wouldn't.

Hal hopped off of the bus on shaky knees. He looked up at the behemoth itself: Barrett High School. The yellow letters and blue his of the building looked so typical, so uninteresting and insignificant. It felt like a slap in the face to Hal. The other kids on the bus were streaming around him, and beginning to get annoyed at his lack of action. He sharply inhaled, gripped the straps of his backpack, and pressed on into the school.

Once inside, he pulled a folded piece of paper from his shirt pocket and opened it up. His schedule.

"Okay, I have my programming class first," he said to himself. "It's pretty close to my locker, I'll just drop off my other books and make a break for it." He scurried over to his blue locker in the middle of the hallway, number D317. He quickly glanced over his shoulder and inputted the combination. After another check, he pulled up and the locker swung open. Hal dropped his backpack to the ground and unzipped it to retrieve his books.

Right when he grabbed his calculus book, he received a harsh kick to his side, throwing the book out of his hands with a blunt thud. "Someone's a klutz today, aren't they Hal?"

Hal's stomach dropped. Without saying a word, he scrambled to pick up the textbook and shove it into the bottom of his locker.

The voice behind him grew indignant. "You look at me when I talk to you, geek!" They grabbed the smaller male by the back of his shirt and forcibly turned him around. The voice belonged to a tall and intimidating figure now hovering over him. He saw a darker skinned girl with yellow highlights and a ghostly pale fatter teenager beside him.

Hal curled into himself. "W-W-What d-do you wwwwwant, Adam?" Tears were already beginning to form in the corners of his eyes.

"Listen to this pussy!" Adam announced. His goons laughed. "Jesus, you are just asking for it!"

"I want the first jab at him!" the woman sneered. She shooed Adam aside and sharply kicked Hal again, this time square in the chest with the tip of her curled up boot. He wheezed and squeaked at the impact. "You gonna cry?"

The tears were already starting to run down Hal's cheeks, staining his glasses. He wanted to take them off; unfortunately, the pasty boy did that for him.

"You don't need these, right?" He mocked in a thick British accent. He dropped the spectacles to the ground and crushed them under his heel.

"No!" Hal cried. He squinted up to his tormentors, pressing his back to the cold locker. He couldn't help but fully burst into crying as they took turns beating him up.

Dave trudged into the main hallway of Barrett High, mentally exhausted and annoyed beyond belief. As he suspected, Eli didn't know where he was going, but insisted on getting coffee before school (which Dave declined), claiming "they were already late, what's a few more minutes?" When they finally showed up twenty minutes past first period, they had gotten snarky looks from the secretary that buzzed them in (George was almost in tears).

Dave paced around, staring at his schedule and looking for room 69. He stayed in confusion until he heard sniffling come from a locker next to him.

"Huh?" he muttered. He approached the locker and listened closely. He heard the noise again, this time with more whimpering. "Is somebody in there?"

The whimpering silenced. Dave peered into the slits on top and found wisps of curly blond hair grazing the bottom of the view. What was a kid doing in a locker? He figured it was some kind of prank, and he needed a hand. "I see you in there. I'm gonna try and get you out."

He pulled out his school ID. Being able to crack open a high school locker wasn't a skill Dave exactly flaunted, but it always was a useful trick, particularly when him or his brother forgot their combinations and needed their supplies at that exact moment. He wedged his ID in between the locker door and side up by the slits and waved it around. The card hit something stiff, so Dave pressed it into the side as much as he could to fit under the obstacle. In a simultaneous action, the object clicked and the locker door swung open. He found a small boy, face drenched with tears, with his arms crossed over his chest like a mummy in a coffin that reeked of urine and sweat.

"What the hell happened?" Dave balked. "Are you okay?"

The boy painfully opened his eyes. "On God, y-you're here to beat me up too, a-a-aren't you?"

"What?"

"SSSSSStop lying!"

"Why would I beat you up? I don't even know you!"

"Hal?" An adult in a black shirt and pink tie races down the hallway to his and Dave's location. "Thank goodness, you're alright."

"Mr. Smith!" Hal reached out a hand, which the teacher accepted and pulled Hal out of the locker. "I'm so happy you're here!"

"Yes, but it seems somebody else already freed you." He turned his attention to Dave. "What's your name, young man?"

"David," Dave blurted. "David Pliskin."

"Pliskin…" The teacher looked up to the ceiling. "Wait, you and your brothers are the new transfers from California, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Why aren't you in your first period class?"

Dave figured he wouldn't turn in his twin on the first day. "I….got lost."

"Can I see your schedule?" When Dave handed it over, a renewed round of sniffling was heard from Hal. "Oh, I'm sorry Hal. You have your spare clothes, right?"

Dave noticed that Hal had a dark stain in between his legs, that almost seemed to be dripping. "Did you, um…" Hal's rose red face was enough of an answer. He clutched his backpack close to him.

"Well, anyway," Mr. Smith continued. "Your Algebra class is right next to my classroom."

"I c-can show you there." Hal whimpered. "S-Sorry I accused you of being a b-bully earlier."

"Uh, don't worry about it." Everything about this boy in front of Dave just screamed pitiful. "You seem like you've already had a rough day."