Day By Day, Moment By Moment

"The key is to keep good company only with people who uplift you, whose presence calls forth your best."

Epictetus

***

Was Nostradamus Clue alone?

A month had gone by, and still the question remained strangely unanswered. He had family who supported him, so he wasn't alone in that regard. But in terms of friends? How many did he have? How many had he had? How many were left behind in Detrot, or in Baltimare? Did he even have any back then?

No, don't start thinking like that! He fiercely shook his head, and leaned back into the front of a red locker in the middle of a hallway. I have friends, of course! I just…I just...

He sighed. This wasn't something he was willing to confront at the moment. He'd rather have it pushed aside while he focused on more important things. Namely, his getting used to a new Language Arts class.

Mr. Solil was a nice teacher; of that, No Clue had little doubt. Still, the class itself was more challenging than he had expected, and though he had managed to get by with a decent grade, he had felt nonetheless that down the road he'd face greater difficulty. He had dropped to a class level just below Mr. Solil's, where he felt much more content.

His parents may have given him a hard time over the dropping had they not recognized No Clue's other talents—specifically, the ones in the more applicable courses, like Science and Math. Certainly, they wanted him to take on harder classes, but at the cost of losing out on what he did the best. Thus they had offered their support in his decision.

Now, though, he was in a class of mostly strangers. They were either upper-class seniors or lower-class sophomores; no freshmen were present. The teacher was a rather old and somewhat dull man, whose name No Clue could not quite recall—as could not most of the class. It was indeed an unsettling situation; No Clue, in his preferred element of learning, was effectively stuck with a bunch of strange students for company.

Occasionally, between classes, he'd catch a glimpse of Rainbow Dash running through the halls. Sometimes she'd almost turn his way, and he'd have to duck his head and avoid looking anywhere near her. He would often hope that she hadn't seen the growing blush on his cheeks.

That itself was another issue; one that he didn't really want to confront at all. It was just a little crush; though, a smaller, more dreamy and ideological part of him wondered of the possibilities.

But, like all things non-Clue driven, it drifted away, replaced with a question.

Or perhaps a better term was "quandary," perhaps even "thought experiment," for Clue found that he could not formulate an answer to it—at least, not a satisfactory one. And "it" felt much too impersonal, too inanimate, to be the subject of his continued frustration. No, it was far better to call the "it" "he," since "he" indeed was a confusing sort of person.

How this "he" grew to be No Clue's source of angst was unknown, even to the boy himself. In another life, he supposed, had certain, seemingly inconsequential events played out differently, they might have been close friends. Yet here and now, it was different—at least, No Clue felt it was different.

Ah! There I go again; making myself confused with all that stupid wordplay!

No Clue rubbed his eyes. Maybe he needed more sleep. Since that day, he hadn't been sleeping all that well. Something kept him up at night.

Or rather, the thought of someone—

I seriously need to stop thinking about him! We're finished; in fact, we never even began!

"Well, well, well, is the school lunch really that bad?"

That voice—could it be?

Realizing he had groaned aloud, No Clue whipped his head around, meaning to cast a bitter—or, perhaps a bittersweet, if he was being honest with himself—glare at the speaker. Instead, his glare devolved into a confounded glance, with his brows raised in the middle, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape.

He figured out almost immediately why he had mistaken the speaker for the "he." This speaker was a young man, probably his age, with long blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. It wasn't his physical appearance that was familiar, though; it was his demeanor, his attitude. He stood straight and tall, appearing confident, but also having a coldness settle between his eyes. The way the corners of his lips lifted up into a not-wholeheartedly-mean sneer suggested a hint of arrogance. There was a remarkable amount of intelligence on his face, but not as much as No Clue had anticipated nor had become familiarized; even then, he found himself feeling tricked.

They don't look the same…but...

Behind the speaker was a taller male. A flash of recognized passed between Clue and this boy. Blue-skinned, with brown eyes and darker-blue hair, he had a wider and bulkier frame, evidently because of hours spent lifting and training. Compared to the speaker, this boy was much more physically imposing. Yet the speaker held some presently unspoken advantage, as he stood in front of him, wielding an equally unspoken level of authority.

Once No Clue realized that the pair was waiting for some sort of response, he asked, "Can I help you two?"

"Maybe. Scooch over a bit, would you?" asked the speaker. Upon speaking, No Clue realized that he had a bit of a snobbish tone to him. It wasn't completely unpleasant, but just enough that it made his tongue curl and him grimace a little.

He, after a bit of hesitation, did so, moving aside his backpack and the lunch he had bought. The odd pair sat down, with the speaker sitting first and the taller boy sitting next to and slightly behind him. From his position, No Clue found it almost comical; he vaguely recalled an old book series from some time ago, about a scrawny kid with the brains to take over the world, served by his faithful and hulking bodyguard friend.

"Ah," the long-haired boy said, rubbing his legs. "Finally. Some place away from the common folk."

Reminded once again of the boy's pretentious demeanor, No Clue asked, "What do you mean by that?"

"What do I mean by that, he asks?" The boy laughed. "Oh, well, isn't it obvious? The common folk! The drabble! The lot, the normal, the unordinary ordinary!"

The boy's hands flew outward and twirled, like a stork about to vomit. He held some amount of contempt on his face. "It is a shame that we must share these sacred halls with such fools, don't you think?"

"Fools? You mean, the rest of the students?"

The boy nodded. "Yes, indeed, the 'students.' Though, I prefer to call them 'sheep,' since, comparatively, their heads aren't bigger than some ewes I've seen. Neither are their brains, mind you."

"That's a bit rude, don't you think?"

"Rude?" The boy shook his head. "No, I think not. It's simply the truth of the matter."

"Um…okay."

No Clue turned away, thinking them strange. The large, somehow familiar boy had not yet said anything; but it appeared that he wouldn't either way. Clue took this time to take a bite out of his school lunch. It wasn't as bad as the boy made it out to be.

"What, you still intend on eating that disgusting grub?" the boy scoffed, causing Clue to look back at him, confused. "Very well. Blueblood isn't known to be at all altruistic, but just this once I'll make an exception. Brutos!"

The taller boy rolled his eyes, mumbling something under his breath. He turned, and fished around his backpack, before bringing out a small paper bag. Opening it, he took out an entire salad, complete with at least five different leaves, tomatoes, croutons, onions, cheese, and a bunch of other stuff that Clue could only liken to "food accessories." Brutos then pulled out two bottles of two different salad dressings.

With all of these in hand, he leaned over and handed them to Clue. The younger boy stared at them, surprised. "Uh…what?"

"Just take it, No Clue," said "Brutos."

Simply hearing him talk was enough of a shock for Clue to take the salad—then he realized that he had just said his name.

"Now I know where you're from," he said to Brutos. "You're in my Language Arts class, right?"

Brutos nodded. "You got it, little man. In fact, we both transferred around the same time."

"Too hard for you, too?"

"You could say that."

"Ah! So you two know each other?" the other boy interrupted. "Splendid! Then I need only make one introduction!" He brushed a long strand of hair away, almost posing like a make-shift king. "I am Blueblood! Heir to the Canterlot High School's legacy! Last of my royal blood, lord of all that is good and pure in this world! An aristocratic prodigy in the making, voted best-looking-student three years in a row, with a great amount of stock in the business world, and—"

"He gets the idea, Blueblood," said Brutos. "And besides, you're not the last of your so-called 'royal blood.' Aren't you related to Vice Principal Luna?"

"Hmm. I suppose you are right. Far smarter than you let on, aren't you?" As Brutos grumbled, Blueblood turned back to No Clue. "Yes, it is true. I am the nephew of Vice Principal Luna."

"And…of Principal Celestia, too, right?"

"If you wish it so." Blueblood shrugged, but offered a smug grin. "So you see, I hold a little bit of authority in this school."

"If that's true, how come you aren't in charge of some of the clubs?"

"Clubs?" Blueblood sniffed loudly. "Please! As if I would soil my manicured hands for something so…drab! Come now, man, come now. Surely you would understand!"

"No... why would I?"

"Why would I, he asks! Ha!"

The uproarious laughter that emanated from Blueblood's mouth contrasted No Clue's befuddlement and Brutos's annoyance. The two boys exchanged silent looks, one seeking answers, the other unable to provide one. Nonetheless, the boy managed to calm down long enough to notice.

Wide-eyed, Blueblood stared. "Wait. You mean to say you don't actually know?"

"Why on earth would I know what you're even talking about?" No Clue responded. "I mean, I didn't even meet you until just now!"

"Now, that's just preposterous—hmm." Turning away, Blueblood rubbed his chin. "No, that would mean—perhaps, but then—mmhmm, I see, I see—yes, I get it now. Yes, that makes sense."

"Wait, wait. Now you've got me confused," said Brutos, holding up his hands. "You mind explaining yourself, Blueblood?"

"It's quite simple, really. A…mere bit of situational irony, I am sure. You see, No Clue, while you have not known me for long, it is I who has known you for longer."

"Uh..."

"Oh, don't give me that look. Let me explain before you jump to strange conclusions. No; you see, my father—who is the principals' brother, I'll have you know—he works in, how you say, the 'higher-ups' of society. The upper-class; the peuples supérieurs, if you will. And in his time up in that glorious niche of society, he's come across some unique people. One of them being your father, actually."

"Really? So my dad knows your dad?"

"Knows? Man, they practically grew up together!" At this, Blueblood let out a high-pitched laugh. "Even after they drifted apart due to time and life, somehow they managed to find it in themselves to locate each other once again. I believe it was around the time my father was just starting out his business, and he just so happened to meet your father where he worked!"

Taking Clue's hesitant silence as permission to continue, Blueblood plowed on: "Well, I doubt you'd very much remember this, but at some point, a long time ago, you and I had met before. A business trip, I think, on my father's behalf, had us go to Detrot, where, coincidentally, your father was working for a bit. Though, obviously, he's not there anymore, is he? No, of course he isn't. He still works in accounting, yes? I'll admit, not my preferred occupation of choice, but good on him for contributing meaningfully to society."

The string of expositional statements and sudden questions came to a quick end. Blueblood now stared at Clue, expectant of a response.

Clue cleared his throat. A faint memory shined; he was smaller, barely up to his father's hip. There was another man, a little blurry in his mind's eye, but still evident by voice. It was a deep voice, rich and blessed, and behind it spoke years of education spent on attaining and retaining the most. Beside that blurred figure was a smaller one, whom, after a little bit of thinking, he realized to, indeed, be Blueblood.

"Oh, now I remember," Clue said. "We met in my dad's bank. Behind the booths, actually."

"Yes! Now you remember!" Blueblood clapped his hands. "Oh, that is such a relief! Knowing that you are here and now, in my same school, nonetheless!"

"Yeah, I…I guess it's pretty coincidental."

"Coincidental? Nonsense. Nothing is coincidental." Blueblood swept an arm around Clue's shoulders, bringing him close. He waved his other arm before them, as if displaying a piece of artwork. "I believe that this is fate speaking, Nostradamus Clue. We were destined to not only find each other again, but work together for a common goal."

Slightly annoyed by the full-name usage, Clue asked, "And that goal is?"

"Advancement, my dear, fine fellow. Pushing above and beyond the normal lot." Blueblood winked at him. "I know from Brutos how smart you are. Think of the possibilities if you truly applied yourself."

No Clue gave him an unsure look. "I'm doing fine on my own—no offense."

Blueblood shook his head. "Oh, I am sure that you think you are doing fine on your own. But is that really true?" He scratched his chin, as if stroking a beard that hadn't yet decided to spring up. "I would imagine, of course, that your grades have remained fairly high. But what about the rest of you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Brutos, tell him."

"It isn't that hard to see, Clue," Brutos said. "You've been acting really strange for a good while now. Like you're really depressed or in a bad mood all the time."

Clue blinked. "I have?"

Brutos nodded. "Yeah. You don't talk much in class like you used to."

"I…I guess I hadn't really noticed. Were you worried?"

"Worried?" Blueblood cut in with a gasp. "Nostradamus, we were absolutely petrified with worry! How could our dear, fine friend, Nostradamus Clue, be upset? And if he's so upset, then shouldn't we be upset?"

"You're not usually this dramatic, Blueblood," said Brutos.

"Quiet!" he barked. "I'm trying to prove a point!"

"Well, if you are, it's a pretty confusing one. Just get to it, Blueblood. You don't need to act like such a drama queen."

Blueblood fumed. "Brutos, you will watch your tone with me."

Brutos shrugged. "Whatever."

The arrogant blonde turned back to No Clue. "Now…where were we?"

"I'm not sure. Something about feeling bad that I apparently was feeling bad?"

"Right! Of course we felt bad, Nostradamus Clue. I mean, I felt bad, at least; and that's saying something because I don't normally feel bad for people! But with you?" Blueblood held a hand to his chest, closed his eyes, and took a breath and sighed. "I would dare say that, among this crowd of mundane peoples, you are the closest with whom I can relate."

"And why is that?"

"Let's face facts, Nostradamus. You are a rather smart fellow, much like myself. And you are quite well off, with your father having done a great deal for the rich and becoming a richer man himself. Why, were it not for the differences in class, I would call you my equal!"

No Clue frowned. "Differences in class?"

"Ah, never mind that. The point is, I felt a certain kind of kinship with you. And as the spirit of this school, I thought to myself, I should help him! And I did!"

"Er…no, you haven't."

Blueblood rolled his eyes. "Well, fine, I haven't. At least, not yet. But give me some time."

"Right..." Clue cleared his throat. "So how exactly did you plan to help me?"

"Oh, the usual. I sit down, have a chat with you, and then provide some life-changing advice to put you back on course." Blueblood sniffed loudly. "For example, you should comb your hair more. You honestly look like a mop—a literal mop—of blueberry ice cream."

No Clue frowned, then ran his hands through his hair. He faintly heard Brutos grumble. "Now that was uncalled for, Blueblood."

"Hey, he can take it. Right, Nostradamus?"

"Okay, let me stop you right there." Clue raised a hand. "My name, yes, is Nostradamus, but I'd rather be called 'No Clue' if you don't mind."

"Why?" Blueblood huffed. "That just sounds like an insult to me."

"Maybe, but it's far easier than being called Nostradamus all the time. And two: I thought you came here to help me, not insult my hair. Either do one or the other, okay?"

His voice had come out forced and strained, with restrained temperament behind it. Momentary shock spread across Blueblood's face. Then, it was cast aside with a clearing of his throat.

"Ah. Yes. Well, if you insist, then I shall call 'No Clue.' And I did intend on helping you, No Clue. Truly, I did. In fact, I still do."

Brutos, Clue noticed, said nothing, preferring to let the two talk. He did give the boy a quick nod, but he was unsure if it was meant to be reassuring, or just an acknowledgement that Blueblood had spoken. Nonetheless, Clue decided to give the other boy his full attention, and waved for him to continue.

"You see, Clue, in this school, there are the winners, and then there are the losers. You have the rightfully high and mighty, who are ensured to go anywhere in the world for anything they want, and then you have the disgusting and lazy low, the ones who would scramble about for scraps of glory rather than work for it. They would encourage chaos and disorder over unified goals." He paused for effect, looking to see if Clue was still following along.

"Go on," said the boy.

"In the best interest for anyone, it is far better to work yourself to the top of this societal food chain. After all, you wouldn't want to be swallowed up by some idiotic, numbskull of a predator, would you? So to do this—to rise to the top—you should understand what it is that you need to do."

"And that is?"

Blueblood raised No Clue's arms, causing the boy to develop a heated blush that the other two didn't notice. "Hmm. Clue, I wouldn't say you're the athletic type. Ah, well, you can't win them all." He lowered the boy's arms. "That opens up several possibilities nonetheless—intellectual ones, of course."

Clue blinked. "You mean I should just keep studying to 'get on top?'"

"That's one idea, yes. But simply studying? That's far too boring and mundane to get you anywhere, my friend. Tell me, are you appreciated for your educational efforts?"

"What?" No Clue arched his brows. "Of course! Mom and Dad have always encouraged me to get good grades!"

"Oh, of course your parents would. But what of your peers? Your fellow students? And I don't mean Brutos and myself," Blueblood quickly added.

"W-well, I'd imagine that they do—"

"So you don't know for certain? What a shame!" Blueblood sighed, placing the back of his hand on his forehead. "It would seem that all intellectuals are unappreciated in their time! It must make you quake with rage, with indignation! Surely you feel just as pained as I do, seeing you so upset?"

No Clue couldn't say he was upset; more confused, really. But Blueblood either didn't notice or didn't care, and went on: "Take it from me, No Clue. Sometimes, in order to show everyone just how truly impressive you are, you have to stomp a few heads into the ground. Dig a few graves. Bury the hatchet and the body, if you will." He chuckled at his own joke. "Ah, I kid, but not really. But do you understand?"

"I would think you're suggesting murder, but you don't look the type."

"Please. As if I would engage in such dastardly activity. Blackmail, on the other hand…" Blueblood harrumphed. "What I mean to say is; life isn't just a simple game of chess. It's a tough and brutal battlefield, and only the strongest can survive. And if you want to survive—and I'd imagine that you would want to—then you would want to fight to your very last breath! Slashing and stabbing and all that fighting stuff…yada yada yada, for honor and glory, all that, you know. But I digress! No Clue, I sincerely believe that you and I could make it big in the real world. For now, we ought to settle for this smaller one—together, of course. And with my help, I'm sure you'll quickly rise through the ranks of the downtrodden, to the top of our great society. What do you say?"

Blueblood stuck his hand out, an expectant smile on his face; one that No Clue was careful not to mirror quite yet. He stared at the outstretched arm, feeling uncertain. Blueblood hadn't kept his promise to be clear in what he said.

Clue sorted through the other boy's words. What exactly was he saying? That No Clue should push everyone away? That he should work towards impressing others by overpowering them with his own unique qualities? Maybe a combination of all three?

Yet something in those words of that arrogant boy touched something in his heart. Like a fire of blazing passion, it rose up and roared in his mind, burning away a layer of uncertainty. It was just enough to reveal a figure to him; a boy clad in yellow, with an icy-blue crown and a cape of pure mystery, and eyes that spoke of anarchy, of chaos, of a dislike for the proper way of things. Then the figure faded into the nothingness; but it was replaced with an idea, a desire, a drive, a need. It was an answer—at least, a potential answer—to Clue's question.

Then he was back in the real world, still staring at Blueblood's hand.

If the doors of opportunity knock, then you had better answer them. Even if they appear confusing at first.

"Alright, Blueblood," No Clue said, grabbing his hand with his own. "Let's go get that opportunity."

Blueblood smiled. "Splendid. I'm sure this will be the start of an amazing friendship."

The bell rang, signaling lunch's end. Their hands released. Brutos looked on, his face a mixture of approval and mysterious intent. Clue put Blueblood’s salad into his backpack, a meal for another day.

"I trust I shall see you soon, No Clue?" Blueblood asked.

"I guess so," he replied. "I guess we should get going.”