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The Boy with the Red Coat

Chapter Text

An alarm clock blaring through the room, a small groaned can be heard as a hand lazily reached the snooze button. A boy with dark brown hair sat up and rubbed his eyes tiredly, he stretched his arms and legs then started walking to the bathroom, getting ready to start the day. Showered, brushed his teeth, washed his face, and tried to comb his hair would be his way to prepared before walking to his room. He grabbed his white collar uniform, paired with a dark trousers, and finished with a red blue strip tie. Looking at the mirror, he nodded and grabbed his bag and oversized red jacket.

He proceeds to the kitchen, placed his bag and jacket and made his way to the laundry room. Inside, he took all of the dirty clothes he had divided, opened the washing machine, placed the dirty coloured clothes first, and then proceed to pour the detergent plus some softener. Finishing it off, he turned on the washing machine and let the rest of the washing done with the machine. While waiting it to be done, he grabbed the washed clothes and placed it to the dryer, grabbing those who are done from the dryer and placed them to a clean laundry basket. He grabbed the basket and proceed to going back inside the kitchen.

Next thing he would do was placing the clean laundry besides the stairs and went back to grabbed something to eat. Of course he was used to made his own breakfast, he needs to make his own or he wouldn't eat; taking the bread and the milk that was placed specifically for him, he placed it in the toaster while grabbing some plates from the upper cupboard. Tiptoeing to reach on the top, he finally paced it on the table at the same time the toast was ready.

Spread the jam carefully, he placed it on top of the plates and started eating it while continuing his extra credit task that his teacher gave him. He wasn't finished there, because after the breakfast, he proceeds to cook some sausage and egg not to mention preparing the table for the rest of them. He stopped whatever he was doing when he heard a sudden harsh cough, slowly he made his way to the living room and opened the door carefully not to wake whoever was in the other side of the room. Inside the room was a woman with a worn out face, smeared make up, and wild hair and sleeping next to her was a man who has a rough round face and in front of an ashtray full of cigar.

Both of them of course still sleeping heavily, and that made the boy sighed in relieved. He closed the door slowly, don't want to wake them up, as he remembered the rule of being invisible in the morning and proceed to finished off the rest of the cooking and clumsily made his lunch. It was useless to get them work up on him, that would make him late for his school fieldtrip today. He took his book inside, lunch, and a bottle of water, inside his bag and grabbed his jacket before writing a note that said 'Breakfast at the table', and post it to the fridge. Opened the front door, and walked his way to the bus stop.


Torture. One and only word to describe his day would be torture. Sam Piper is one of those student who didn't quite enjoy fieldtrip with his school. Not because of the place, not because it would be boring, but because it was too loud, and annoying for him to even enjoyed wherever they were visiting. His school decided after the grand re-opening, it was a great idea for student to have some school fieldtrip to appreciate their surroundings, and their good idea would be visiting some gallery to look at expensive painting.

It took twenty-six loud children, and two teachers on a school bus, heading to the International Gallery to look at some paintings. It was also a good idea for the school to gives a task for the student to write down every history about the art and the artist and they need to presented it later at the school. Of course none would have done these and probably would look up at the internet about this, but the school don't really care much about it. Although, he might need to admit, it was nice that he could just goof around with his friend today rather than learning inside a boring class.

"Now remember students! No touch, no talk, no running, and no electronic devices and that includes your phone!" Mr. Bosch announced, earning a groan from the students, some even mumbled about this being the worse field trip ever, and some tried to find some excuse. "There would no excuses! We've informed your parents my number and Mrs. Smith number in the case of emergency, so please proceed to give your phone to Mrs. Smith."

A strained of groaned and stumping teenagers were heard as they made their way towards Mrs. Smith who was holding a huge box that were now started to piling up with phones that was filled slowly but surely. Sam grabbed his phone, it was just an ordinary phone to anyone but it made it quite a bit important because of who gave him the phone. He never used it of course, other than taking calls from Mickey and surprisingly Sarah Jane when she would invite her over to her house. Other than that, he would have left the phone in his room.

"Waiting for your aunt to called?"

He jumped a bit and looked up, it was his turn to collect his phone. In front of him was Mrs. Smith, grinning at him. Mrs. Smith was used to be his history teacher, but now drabble with physic too since the school trust her capability in physic. She was here with them because the school trust her on her knowledge with art since her history background and also her wife is an art professor in Cambridge. One thing to describe Mrs. Smith would be she was a bit of an odd ball, but she's a kind, clever, and everyone loves her, well maybe not everyone. She has blonde short hair, and she always wore that grey long coat, with a rainbow strap t-shirt, and a brown boots. Her teaching method was questionable by some parents, teacher, and not surprisingly student but Sam loved it. She made him loved reading about history, and she loved telling stories about brilliant people she had 'met' in the past, which was quite odd because she was telling this story as if she had met them in real life. Of course it wasn't true, because Mrs. Smith can't travel in time, like the Doctor.

"No, not really." Sam replied. He placed the phone in the box and walked but felt Mrs. Smith tugged his shirt.

"Keep it," Mrs. Smith told him as she placed his phone on his palm. "You never if this could come in handy. Besides, I trust you won't play it like your fellow classmate."

He grinned, and proceed to joined the others.

"It so not fair you can have your phone not us," Melissa quipped from behind him.

"It's fair because I won't be obsessing with playing these," Sam responded as he showed his phone then placed it inside his pocket.

"That's true."

"Oi! Kenny you should be supporting me," Melissa told him.

Kenny just shrugged then flinched when she gave him a playful punch.

After a moment, Mr. Bosch finally came to the front of the group and gestured them all to follow him up to the stairs. Leading the class inside with a check list of every student to make sure that everyone was here and no one tried anything funny or get left behind later, the students were gathered and can only looked around, as their phone was a bit confiscated at the moment while waiting for the teacher talked to the curator of the place with his assistant. The three of them stood still near the centre, watching around the main hall as the other students were playing around and darter around the room. Sam spotted the information centre and taken one of the map, he opened the map and started reading it. Walking deeper the gallery, it leads into a large room as the other students started to wander around with their groups. Some of them clearly bored, some annoyed that they have been stripped out their phones, and some goofed around and talked loudly. Sam and his friends joined the group. He saw Melissa walked towards one of the exhibit and grinned at an elegant puzzle box with three raised stones on the top.

"I'd love to have this for a jewellery box, it is gorgeous," Melissa observed, brushing a hand over the top of it quickly, before looking guiltily around.

"It is nice," Sam agreed as he glanced down at the sign, "By Giuseppe di Cattivo, it says here that he was a painter who lived next to Leonardo da Vinci."

"A painter?" Kenny questioned as he looked at the box in confusion.

"It was the renaissance," Sam told him with a grin. "They all did kinds of things, Michelangelo painted the Sistine Chapel even though he was actually a sculptor."

"Blimey!" Melissa said with a surprised tone. "Imagine being neighboured with Leonardo da Vinci. I can ask him to paint me, and probably I be the next Mona Lisa."

"Next Mona Lisa?" Sam grinned at her.

"I could be."

He nodded condescendingly.

"Oi! What that nod mean?"


Melissa glared at him and it was his signalled to ran away from her. He took a last glanced to the jewellery box and started walked around the room and spotted a certain painting that caught his attention. A painting of a beautiful lady with red dress, soft fierce brown eyes, a golden haired, and a wide unique elegant smiled. He takes a good looked at it and felt there was something about the painting that was familiar with him which was weird because he never been in the gallery before. The other thing that felt a bit weird was how the painting felt as if it was watching him, keeping a sharp eye but not in a scary angry way, but a bit felt more protective.

"This is a beautiful painting!"

Sam jumped slightly, feeling his heart jumped for a moment and turned around to find Mrs. Smith behind him.

"Sorry," Mrs. Smith replied sheepishly. "Just thought you looked interested by the painting." She scrunched her face before she continued. "Great choice really. See the light surrounding the figure is otherworldly and almost magical, which is balanced out by her completely ordinary clothing. Her eyes that glow with warm of the sun, the detail with such imagery. She's also looked beautiful to me."

"You talked as if you know her," Sam pointed out. He eyed his teacher curiously, even if he knows that Mrs. Smith married to an artist, she talked as if she knows the woman in the painting.

"Just said how I felt about the painting really," Mrs. Smith shrugged. "What's called anyway?" She asked, trying to averted the conversation.

Sam looked down at the sign. "It doesn't say anything about the name, well it didn't say about the painter either."

"Ooohh… a mysterious painting in the gallery," Mrs. Smith gushed.

"Well, it only said here that people used to called it the Lady but there are some who called it the-"

"Good morning children!" the curator announced, getting the students attention to him. He looked around and smiled. "I'm Mr. Harding, and I am the curator of this place. I am glad to see young students take an interest in art and history." He told them as he continued, "Now if you want to follow me, we're going into the Mona Lisa exhibit."

"Come on," Mrs. Smith ushered him to move along. "Don't want to miss seeing Mona Lisa, although my wife and I always thought that painting was a bit overrated."

Both of them left the painting and followed the curators just like the others. Everyone followed Mr. Harding through an elegant set of double doors and into a tall grand room. The gallery walls were decorated in gold and red with a serious of paintings on each of them. A red carpet had been laid and two long benches with red cushions stood on either side. On a dais on the far side of the room, stood a tall display with thick red curtains currently covered the painting underneath.

"The Mona Lisa was begun by Leonardo da Vinci in 1504 in Florence but finished only shortly before he died in 1519," Mr. Harding explained as they walked. "For over five hundred years, the Mona Lisa's beauty has remained undimmed. She has been gazed upon by millions in her Paris home and now she is here."

They all stopped as Mr. Harding stepped forward to the curtains and turned back to them with a huge proud smiled. "Feast your eyes and lose your hearts. I give you the Mona Lisa."

When the curtains opened dramatically, everyone gasped in surprised. In place of the famous Mona Lisa was replaced by a painting of a short plump woman in grey skirt and yellow sweater. Ahead of them Mr. Harding flushed in panic and rushed over to a security phone on the wall, grabbing the phone with his shaky hands.

"Security!" he shouted. "The Mona Lisa has been stolen."