Public school was a joke. The kids didn’t want to be there and wouldn’t amount to shit even if they did, the teachers were underpaid and it showed in their work, and the food is garbage. No wonder there were so many school shootings. Ian was glad he was so determined to stay in school or else he might have gotten the same idea.<br/><br/>Darren sat immediately to the right of him in German every day, usually copying his assignments. Darren made school bearable just by existing. If tabletop games, weed, and every book in the world had a horrendous lovechild, it would be Darren. He wasn’t the most academically inclined, but he was smart in other aspects. Really, he was delightful.<br/><br/>“Did you ever consider possibly doing the assignment before it was due?”<br/><br/>“Why? My grade in this class is<span style="font-style: italic">awesome.</span>”<br/><br/>Ian decided that was reasonable. “You could at least ask-”<br/><br/>“Yeah yeah, Sieg Heil and all that.” Ian would have corrected him if it had been worth the effort, but Darren continued seamlessly while keeping his eyes on the steady task of plagiarism. “Hey, they ever tell you what to do about that arts credit?”<br/><br/>If he had to name another reason why public school was a joke, it would be that a psychology major was required to have an arts credit. He supposed he should be glad that it was still early enough to get change his schedule, but honestly he was three weeks into his junior year and they were just now telling him that he was required to take an arts credit. He understood the arts were a core subject and<span style="font-style: italic">why</span>, but he subscribed to the theory that college should be driven by the individual student’s career path so they only have to take the field’s prerequisite studies.<br/><br/>Trade school. He should have gone to trade school.<br/><br/>“<span style="font-style: italic">Well,</span>” he started, fingers tapping out a small rhythm on the desk. “Music theory was full, guitar’s not my thing, I’m not patient enough for physical art. I got stuck in-” He paused, checked a paper tucked away in his notebook. “-<span style="font-style: italic">Intro to Fundamental Acting.</span>”<br/><br/>--------------<br/><br/>Introduction to Fundamental Acting, as it turned out, was just what it sounded like, Ian decided as he sunk into one of the auditorium’s overly-plush cushioned seats. It was theater, right down to the stereotypes. Pretentious girls looking at expensive phones, a few obviously gay men, a couple of less-obviously gay men, a minute group of regular people, and Ian.<br/><br/>Darren was right to have laughed when he told him about the class. This was going to be hell.