Fury watched the folder for a few moments, pleased << Remarkable! And the fourth? >>
Coulson opened it, showing the photo of a girl with an excessively serious expression << Helena Frost, who has a complicated history behind her, has changed seven different schools in the last three years only, from four she got kicked out for lack of discipline! >> Fury hounded her perplexed forehead, not understanding where the teacher wanted to parry with that speech. << He got a total scholarship by taking the maximum score on both the application test and the entrance test. No mistakes, no erasures on the sheet, no hesitation in writing, linear and precise. I've never seen a test like this before! >>
Few things we're able to surprise the icy Dean Fury, but that revelation had succeeded in full. He grabbed the folder and pulled out the packet of paper that made up the two tests faced by Miss Frost: over a hundred pages of questions for each test, on twenty different subjects, in three different languages. << Did you ask to take the test in these three different languages? >> He asked.
<< In fact in the application for registration you stated that you have a good knowledge of both German and Spanish, in addition to your mother tongue >> answered Coulson << so we decided to test it. Given its past and its disastrous school average we didn't expect great results, but instead, it seems to have more skills than it has shown so far! >>
The headmaster placed the packet of paper in the folder and grabbed the one in which the girl's data were written: seventeen years old, unknown parents, her childhood spent in an orphanage and her adolescence among different foster families.
He took a look at the photo of the girl, attached with the stapler on the paper, then his gaze moved to the folder of Loki Odinson and also grabbed his paper, observing alternately both photos. He wrinkled his forehead, puzzled, and looked up at Coulson in search of an answer.
However, the professor, understanding the tacit question in Fury's eyes, limited himself to a shoulder lift.
Loki turned the corner of the desert corridor, looking for the library where he could take refuge to spend some time with his beloved books. That first day of college had not gone well: he was almost late for his first-class because his roommate had turned their room upside down like a sock in search of the wallet he could no longer find, and then it turned out to be finished, we don't know-how, inside a shoe; then he had met Thor more than once in the corridors, together with his inseparable group of friends, and not only had his brother deliberately ignored him, but he had also had to put up with the insults of that naughty and irritating Stark, insults that everyone present had heard and for this reason they had already begun to point out him as a loser, without even knowing him. Because in that filthy world where he lived it didn't matter who you were, if Tony Stark or any of the Avengers was pointing you out as a loser then you were, and you could be sure that you would never get a higher rank than the one in the social hierarchy of college, unless it was one of them who decided it.
He held those thoughts even more firmly around the books he was carrying in his arms, with anger, as if instead of those books he was crushing one of those obnoxious and ravenous spoiled brats, including his brother who did nothing to prevent others from considering him nothing.
He quickly turned to another corner, that of the corridor that led to the door of the library, and went to bump into someone.
<< Hey loser, look where you're going! >> said an energetic all-muscle maniac, throwing the books he held in Loki's arms to the ground with a hand and laughing in taste with his friend who accompanied him.
to be continued https://zen.yandex.ru/media/id/5d95c339aad43600afc75fd8/the-time-to-grow-up-part-4-5d95df2b5d636200afb2c497