On the second day of the new seating arrangement, Fraser realised that his new deskmate wasn't actually taking notes at a rapid pace, but was filling in the margins of his exercise book with doodles. 

Right now, Titus was sketching out a box. The box grew doors and windows and what appeared to be a pointy snout. The snout got eyes. 

"Can you not." Titus moved his exercise book away, out of Fraser's sight. 

 "I just wanna see what you're drawing. That's a nice train." 

"It's not a train."

"Then what is it?" 

Mr Darvall shot Fraser a warning look over the top of his laptop screen. "Is he bothering you, Mr Walker?" 

"No, sir," Titus replied. "He was just asking me a question about the book."

Darvall nodded and returned his attention to his laptop. The two retreated into an uneasy silence. 

***

The science building was deserted at 5 o'clock on a Thursday afternoon. The entire school was basically deserted for that matter, except for a smattering of incandescent yellow squares projecting into the oval, implying of the presence of a few workaholic teachers still chained to their desks. There was the very faint sound of cricket practice. 

Titus stood by the window of the spare room on the second floor, looking out onto the oval. It was a nice view, if a bit gloomy, under the setting sun. 

He looked at the bunch of Year 9s he was meant to be supervising. Three of them were hunched over a soldering iron. One of them was holding the solder wire while another used the soldering iron to drip solder onto the copper wire, and the third one just watched. 

"That's not how you solder," he yelled across the room. The three culprits looked at him like deer caught in a car's headlights. 

"Then show us." The ringleader, Ryan, challenged. 

"Alright, then." Titus crossed the room. He inspected the wire they were trying to solder. They'd spliced it correctly, so that was good. 

"Press the soldering iron to the underside of the wire and keep it there," he instructed. Ryan did as he was told. 

There was a knock on the door. It could wait. 

"OK. Now the wire's hot enough. Now just hold the solder above the hot wire. Let it melt and just let it soak into the wire. There we go. Simple. Got that?" Ryan nodded. He breathed a sigh of relief. 

The knocking was getting more insistent. It was probably just Mr. Boyle, coming down to remind them to wind it up in the next half-hour or so. 

He opened the door. It was not Mr. Boyle. It was Fraser, in his sports gear, toting his sports bag, slick with sweat. His green eyes met Titus' hazel ones. They were both as suprised to see the other. 

There was a moment of awkward silence.

"I think I might have left my charger in here." Fraser mumbled, pushing past his English deskmate. 

"How? They don't have classes in here." 

"Well, we had Bio in here because there was some kind of sprinkler issue in our normal classroom." 

"So... where in this room did you last see it? I mean, assuming that it's still here." Titus looked back at the Year 9s. "They've probably already scrapped it for the copper by now." 

"They've what?" 

"Yeah, we already sold it to the copper dealer." A high-pitched voice yelled from the other end of the room. 

"I'm going to kill you." Fraser yelled back. 

Titus looked on with mild amusement. "You know Ryan?" 

"He has the locker next to mine." Fraser's face bore a pained expression. 

"Remember that time you tried to kill that mouse and failed?" Ryan was on a roll. 

"Just give me my charger back, you little shit." 

"I don't have it." 

"Then why the-" Fraser turned his attention back to Titus. "What are they even doing?"

"Well, they're supposed to be working on a robot that they're going to enter in a competition, but actually, they're just messing around with a soldering iron and playing Minecraft."

"What are you doing here?" 

"I'm part of science committee." He pointed at the badge on his blazer lapel. "The easiest committee. All you have to is sign up, turn up to the meetings, and occasionally sacrifice one of your afternoons to watch over a bunch of Year 9 boffins." He gestured at the gaggle at the other side of the room. "Gotta be at least one Year 12 in the room at all times. Otherwise they'll burn the place down. If I even go to the toilet this place will be toast by the time I get back. I guarantee you."

There was loud yell from the other end of the room, followed by the acrid smell of burned plastic, and the sound of high-pitched swearing.

"Right on cue." He rushed over. Fraser followed. The smell of burnt plastic hung in the air. The charred remains of a toothpaste tube lay on the carpet, smoke curling into the air. The table now sported a fresh birthmark, roughly the shape of Belgium. 

"Absolutely magnificent job, guys. Give yourselves a pat on the back." Titus surveyed the damage. "What the actual fuck have you done?"

"Er... nothing." Ryan's face was the definition of innocence. 

"I told you not to set fire to plastic! And definitely not with a soldering iron."

"We weren't trying to set fire to it!"

"Then what were you trying to do?"

"W-we're trying to figure out a way to reuse toothpaste tubes." another kid chipped in. 

"With a soldering iron? Are you crazy?" Titus turned to Fraser, who was standing there, not sure what the fresh hell he'd walked into. "Can you believe it? This is a brand new table. Boyle specifically warned us about these last week. Not to destroy them too quickly. He's going to go apeshit if he finds out." He walked around the room, opening the windows, trying to get the burnt plastic smell out. 

Then he pointed at the Year 9s. "OK. Make yourselves useful for once. Go and distract Boyle so I can sneak this past his office."

"How?"

"Just make some shit up," Titus replied. "Tell him you have a homework problem you can't work out. Or that you've found this new competition you think would be cool for us to join. Talk to him about his dog. Whatever. Just keep him talking." 

The Year 9s filed off on the short trek to Mr Boyle's office. Titus turned attention back to Fraser. "Alright, Fraser. Shut the fuck up about your charger and help me get this infernal table down to the basement so we can swap it for a fresh one."

"The basement? Isn't that locked?" 

"Usually Priya leaves it open until she locks up. Which should be any minute now." Fraser suddenly realised that he'd never learned the name of the little old lady in the lab coat who sometimes hung around the classroom during his biology classes. 

They each took one end of the table. Getting it through the door was a bit of a hassle, but from then on it was smooth sailing. He snuck a glance through the office window as they passed. Boyle was in the midst of spirited conversation with the Year 9s, his back turned to the door. He breathed a sigh of relief. 

***

They got down the stairs to the basement without incident, which was mercifully unlocked. They swapped tables and headed back up.

They managed to get as far as the office, when Mr Boyle himself strode out of the door. He was accompanied by Mr De Silva, the new Director of Student Leadership, or something to that effect. 

They froze. 

Boyle didn't speak. He didn't have to. He just peered at the table, then at Titus and Fraser, arching his eyebrows, extending an unspoken invitation for them to explain themselves. 

"One of the tables had a wonky leg," Titus ad-libbed. "Manufacturing defect, I think. So we went down to the basement and swapped it for another one." 

Boyle nodded. He squinted at Fraser. "You're Freddie Sinclair's brother, right?" 

"Yes." 

"Fraser. Ah. I found something of yours today in the spare room. Don't know how it got there." He disappeared back into his office, returning a moment later with the offending charger. There you go," he said, handing over the charger. "And good initative on the table, Titus. Good to see." 

Boyle turned to the young-faced man standing next to him. "Titus and Fraser, this is Mr De Silva, your new Director of Student Learning and Leadership. You may have seen him around before. Make him feel welcome." 

De Silva nodded slightly. "Well, I've got some pressing issues to discuss with Mr Boyle, so I'll leave you two to it," he said, smiling. His eyes did not smile. 

Titus watched over his shoulder as the two retreated into the office. "That was close."

***

"Alright guys," Titus yelled at the Year 9s as they re-entered the room. "Time to wrap up. You can continue incinerating your toothpaste tubes tomorrow at lunchtime." 

The Year 9s packed up their things and filed out, chattering about whatever it was that Year 9s chattered about. Now it was just the two of them standing in the dwindling light of the setting sun. 

"See?" Titus gestured around the room. "This is what science committee is all about. You'd think it was all about doing elephant toothpaste demonstrations in Science week, but really it's just manhandling tables to cover up Year 9 fuckups." 

"You hate me, don't you?" Fraser said, suddenly. 

"No I don't." 

"It's kind of obvious. I can tell by the way-" 

"Have I ever said that I hated you?" 

"No." 

"Then I don't hate you. Stop putting words in my mouth." Titus was attacking the carpet with a wire brush to try and get the burnt toothpaste tube residue out. "If you're going to put words in my mouth, at least make them some famous last words." 

"Can I at least have your number?" 

"What number? My favourite number? I'm just not very into this whole favouritism thing, Fraser. Especially with numbers."

"No. Your phone."

"Oh. My phone's favourite number." Titus smiled, for the first time that Fraser could recall. "I see what you mean. Hang on a moment, I'll ask." He took out his phone. "Hey Siri. what's your favourite number?" 

"I'm quite partial to the number 42," Siri replied.

"There you go," He looked Fraser in the eye. "Did you get that down? Should I ask again?"

Fraser had no choice but to burst into laughter. "Can you stop fucking taking the piss now. You really do hate me, don't you." 

Titus didn't answer. 

"Well, let me rephrase the question." He snatched Titus' phone out of his hand before he had a chance to react. "How about I give you my number?" 

Titus did not react as Fraser punched his own phone number into his contacts. "What do you even want my number for?" 

"I-I just think you'd be a cool person to hang out with." Fraser handed his phone back. 

Titus suddenly felt kind of bad for taking the mickey out of Fraser. But it wasn't enough for him to stop. "Out of what? A helicopter hovering above an active volcano in the middle of a thunderstorm?"

"I was thinking more of the movies." 

"I don't watch movies." 

"How can someone not watch movies?"

"I just prefer not to." Titus did not elaborate further. Fraser decided not to pursue that particular avenue of inquiry. 

"How about the... NGV?"

Titus felt the inkling of an idea take seed. "National Gallery of Victoria? OK. That works for me. They've got an interesting historical exhibit I've been meaning to take a look at." 

"Sunday morning, nine o'clock?" 

"I'll be there, don't worry." Titus took one last look around the room, making sure everything was in order. "I'm a pretty boring person, you know. You've probably already heard all the rumours." 

"We'll see," Fraser replied. "I just wanna try something." 

"OK," Titus flicked the light switch off and opened the door, beckoning for Fraser to go out first. "Let's flap this bug with gilded wings."