Quote from ThePlotMurderer on July 14, 2024, 11:11 am

You can do this.

He took a deep breath, collecting his thoughts.

Another year to kick ass and take names.

One shoe laced, then the other, carefully and tightly. Perfectly, even.

You are the motherfucking fucking one. This is your moment.

With a confident flip, he planted the grey fedora on his head.

It is time.

One tap on the phone. The beat dropped.

"Oh nooo, no uunh nahhh..."

The sonorous voice of mildly renowned rapper Fatlip flowed through his ratty Beats headphones and flooded his ears. On a dime, his muscles moved with the music, getting down to this ice-cold classic. This was his life, his soul, engrained into every beat of the track and note of the song.

This was the Ballad of Severino Sagayadoro.

"I paid my dues, refuse to lose, so fuck the blues/And ya bad news, you can trip if you choose..."

In a flash, Severino sprinted down the stairs of his family's humble two story home, his husky frame causing the staircase to rattle with each step, with an eager excitement unprecedented in his lifetime. So unprecedented, it scared the living hell out of his mother, who cursed in Filipino, "Mother of God, what the hell?!"

"Morning, Mama!" He took the tiny woman into a huge embrace, kissing her on the forehead, which she was not all that passionate about.

"Oh, I can hear that awful music! What is the point of the headphones if you cannot keep those rap songs to yourself?"

"It's the vibe, Mama! The vibe! THE VIBE!" Severino bellowed theatrically with hand gestures that would be deemed racist to Italians, prompting his mother to mutter something along the lines of, "All that yelling..."

"The good life, talkin' bout the good life/Live it up for a little while/Then go to the hood to get a good wife and settle down/But for now I'm studyin' Tao..."

Severino glided into the kitchenette, where his father was snoring, somehow deaf to all the ruckus around him, his head resting comfortably on the jobs section of the newspaper, and his hand loosely gripping an empty Corona. "Ay, Boss Man! Whazzup?"

"Don't disturb your father," his mother chided him, placing her son's breakfast on the table. "It's cold by the way. What are you doing up there that you don't hear me calling you 40 times? You're going to be late!"

Severino smirked as he cut up his waffle, as if he knew something and she didn't.

His mother didn't like this. "Severino..."

He began digging into his waffle with glee.

"Severino Benedict Sagayadoro, what are you planning?"

"You'll see, Mama," he answered once, then again with his mouth full of waffle. "You'll see."

"For God's sake... Always with the riddles!" She pinched the bridge of her nose, lamenting, "Your sister, now she doesn't speak in riddles! Riddles don't get you into Columbia, Severino, you know this..."

Having heard enough about his older sister for several years, Severino scarfed some more waffle down his throat and exclaimed, "I'll catch y'all on the flipside!"

"But...your waffle!" His mother called after him. "You always finish your waffle!"

"Don't worry about my waffle!" Severino tipped his cap suavely and said, with a smile that shone like a million bucks, "I'm going to school...on time!"

He left his mother, bewildered, with nothing but the sound of her husband's snoring to accompany her. "That boy is going to be the death of me..."

***

"Today's your day, baby/Wachagoneduuuuuuu?"

The bus pulled up just the chorus hit and Severino left the house. Exactly as planned! Striding with swagger, he approached the bus door as it opened before him.

Stan the Bus Man stared back at him with dead eyes. "You gettin' in or what?"

"Just the question I was hoping for, Stanley!" Severino replied enthusiastically.

"Please call me Mr. Gilewicz, Severino, you know I can't fraternize with the students. It's against school policy."

"I will not be riding the bus today!"

Stan the Bus Man blinked. "Then why did you let me stop and open the door?"

"Cause I wanted to tell you, buddy ol' pal, that I, unlike your sorry passengers, have outgrown the school bus."

"No, really, you're supposed to call the school in advance so I can take you off the route. There's a whole process..."

Severino ignored the man's explanation of school bureaucracy and lifted his foot, pointing to the heel of his sneaker. "Check it!"

Stan the Bus Man was unimpressed. "You're wearing Heelies."

"Home-made Heelies!" Severino gushed with pride, planting both heels on the pavement. "And I'm gonna show 'em off."

Stan the Bus Man was quiet for some time, implying a lot of inner turmoil and regret festering in his sub-conscious. "OK, then." He closed the bus door.

Severino saluted Stan the Bus Man, thanking him for his many years (two years) of service, and got in position, like a track athlete, waiting to move with the bus, downhill and to the end of the street. He only lived a few blocks from G.W High, which brought into question why he needed to ride the bus to school and also why he broke the school's record for tardies in a single school year without getting expelled but none of that mattered right now. All that mattered was beating the bus to the end the slope (Dead Man's Slope, he cleverly called it) and proving the labors of his summer had produced sweet, juicy, delicious fruit.

The bus kicked into gear, its tires got into motion; so did Severino's. He was off, baby!

"Intimate verses that hit surface with quick service/But never nervous in this big circus..."

"OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD..." It should be noted that Severino had not yet tested these Heelies, swearing by a trial by fire philosophy that inadvertently banned all manner of skateboards, bikes and scooters from the Sagayadoro household, his mother warning him that he'd hit his head enough times as a kid.

If only she could see him now! Gliding like the wind! The Filipino Flash, coming to you! "YEAH! FUCK YEAH!" He cheered wildly, his arms in the air. He'd never moved so fast before! And he was pulling ahead of the bus! Which, sure, was driving at a sub-15 mile per hour rate in a small neighborhood, as was Louisiana State Law, but Severino was winning! He was winning!

"Word muffler heard 'nuff of the bullshit/You nerds suck up out the back gate/Lyrics so pregnant we lactate..."

For a moment, he glimpsed Stan the Bus Man over his shoulder, beaming at his old friend, hoping he was proud of Severino's accomplishments.

Stan the Bus Man, as was advised by Louisiana State Law, kept his eyes on the road.

Severino celebrated anyway. "THIS IS MY YEAR, BABY! THE YEAR OF SEVERINO BENEDICT SAGA..."

His heels collided with an empty Red Bull can, causing him to keel over and tumble forward, cascading down the rest of the hill like a ball down a flight of stairs. "AWFUCKSHITCRAPFUCKSHITAHHHHHHH...."

THUD!

Finally, Severino's fall came to an end at the foot of the hill and the bus drove past his body, leaving him for dead. But Severino was not dead, not yet, as groaned in pain, gingerly getting to his knees. "Ow. Ow. Ow." Wincing and cringing, he checked his body for all manner of bruises and scabs--there were indeed quite a few. "Aw, crap."

Getting to his feet, he cracked his back and stretched. He tried to wheel back into action but found himself out of luck, as one of the wheels were jarred loose. "Man..."

Welp. It was good while it lasted. But hey: it did last. That was better than usual.

Strapping his bookbag back on, he resumed the music and continued his commute to school on foot, ready to continue the Year of Severino Benedict Sagayadoro.

"TODAY'S YOUR DAY, BABY/WACHEGONEDUUUUUUUUUUU..."

***

Day 1 of Freshman Year

I'm so excited! It's the start of the best four years of my life! The beginning of the Leslie Adon Era at George Washington High.

It's such a strange feeling--like I'm not a kid anymore but I also have my whole life ahead of me. Not even that--like my life is just starting!

The St. Mary's nuns warned me that high school would be tougher academically AND socially. Well, I'm ready for the school work (National Junior Honor Society all the way!!!) and the people here seem nice.

Leslie Adon took a break from her journaling to look around at her fellow classmates in Homeroom 201. They all seemed nice. Maybe they were half-awake and not entirely conscious but her parents warned her about being presumptuous, so she disregarded that judgement. Beaming with her braces proudly on display, she continued writing.

I just know I'm going to achieve my 4 goals of the year:

1. Maintain an above 3.5 GPA

2. Join clubs

3. Make friends

4. Have fun! XD

I am so ready! Bring it on, Freshman Year! I'm ready for ya!

With pride, she placed her Hello Kitty pencil down on her journal and closed it, absolutely glowing with optimism. She couldn't wait to get started! Heck, she can start now and make some friends...

Leslie scanned the room around her, realizing that she recognized absolutely nobody in her surroundings. A steep wave of shyness she was all too familiar with suddenly overwhelmed her and caused her smile to falter just a bit.

But that would get better over time! There was no rushing these things! Ten months in a school year; why rush just ten minutes into the first day?

So with that, she folded her hands and smiled patiently, waiting for something to happen. And waiting. And waiting.

OK, maybe that was a grammar school habit she'd have to unlearn.

But still! No rush!

***

Emma Duval averted her gaze from the bespectacled pre-teen girl with the Cheshire Cat smile so as not to stare and looked around the room, searching for some familiar faces. She knew a few but not too well. At least not well enough to converse with. She'd been hoping she'd be put in the same homeroom as Audrey but she was nowhere to be seen. And most of her middle school friends had gone the Catholic school route and went to St. Mary's, so Emma felt practically alone here.

But not entirely. She noticed a boy a few rows ahead of her, with curly hair and a toothy smile. He looked sure of himself but not too much--he sort of had this sheepishness to him, like an "aw shucks" humility you find in people from the country. Compared to some of the boys she'd seen roaming the halls on her way to homeroom, this one appeared to be a lot more reserved yet just as confident.

Just as she felt he'd turn to see her staring, she averted her gaze, staring back at the aforementioned bespectacled pre-teen girl with the Cheshire Cat smile. Emma didn't know why she'd found herself looking at him of all people for so long. She was probably running low on sleep. That was it. She'd snap out of it soon enough.

***

Aaron Rooney chuckled to himself as he drew a cock and balls on his school desk. He was quite content with it.

Mr. Louis Barone, Algebra Teacher, patrolled the rows of Homeroom 202, making sure all of his students were A.I.S. (Ass in Seat). He paused at Aaron's desk, who seemed to be unaware of the teacher's presence.

One of those kids. One every year marks a new desk with male genitalia. Like clockwork.

"Hey." The boy looked up at Louis, his eyes as wide as a deer's in headlights. "Detention, Mr...." He paused, realizing he hadn't taken attendance yet. "What's your name?"

Aaron answered honestly, "Aaron Rooney, sir."

Louis nodded, marking his attendance sheet. "Thanks."

Aaron smiled, glad he could help. "No problem!"

"Detention, Mr. Rooney." Louis continued his patrol, his business done here.

Slumping his shoulders in distress, Aaron groaned, "Aw, man..."

***

Clyde Carter suavely entered homeroom one minute before the bell, flashing finger-guns at anybody who'd take the bullets. There was one bro in particular who Clyde knew would take the ammunition. "Ay, Ash! What's up?" He dapped up his friend and brought him into an embrace. "Haven't seen you in forever, man. What's good?"

***

Chewing her gum in her usual deadpan nature, Erin Littleton scanned her homeroom, generally unimpressed as a mousy kid (Bob or Ben or something) brushed past her. "Is it just me..." she said to one of the few intelligent friends she had in this dump, "...or is this place feeling a lot emptier than last year? Like a bunch of parents got the memo that there were better places than this to send their kid to learn algebra and basic social skills, so they transferred, leaving people like us behind? Because if that's the case..." She took the time to pop a bubble and suck back the gum before continuing, "...why us?"

***

Brent Bigkowski whistled a bastardized rendition of "I'll Fly Away" as he entered homeroom, ready as he'd ever be for his final first day of school. He tried to remember what his dad told him before he left. He knew what his mother said, because she said it every morning: "Have fun at school, sweetie! Call if you need me!" It was routine. He also remembered the text he received from Dotty soon after, telling him "You got this!" That meant a lot more than those three words let on, and Brent knew that discussion was inevitable...

But what did the great Big Mike Bigkowski say to him this morning? Had he grown so adept at tuning his father out that all he heard were the half-hearted congratulations he got after football games? Not that his dad would have any more luck remembering it than Brent. Sometimes, he figured his dad's brains were so clouded with exhaust from his time at the auto shop, that even he didn't know what he was saying.

Anyway, for now, he'd have to manage with the words of encouragement from his mother and girlfriend to get him through the day. And maybe some pals as well, as the sight of Nick Cole brightened his day. "Hey! Nick! Long time no see!"

***

Jonah Hodgins was casually scrolling through his phone before homeroom began while he could, before doing so would be deemed illegal by every teacher from 8:30AM-2:45PM. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the artsy girl (Darby or something like that?) sketching something in the desk next to his.

He asked politely, "Oh, cool. You draw?"

With the most venomous vehemence possible, she hissed, "IT'S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!!!!"

"OK, then," he replied promptly, immediately regretting asking and looked the other way. Jonah relocated to an empty desk several rows over. He was happier there.

The young artist, brimming with pretension, returned to her artwork, which was solely and completely her business.

***

Darius Bonner casually entered homeroom in his natural state: imposing and tired of this shit. All morning long, his phone had been buzzing with texts from his mom, reminding him to keep an eye on Tami. As if she were letting her daughter loose in fuckin' Siberia and he had to watch her 24/7. To his credit, Darius watched her for approximately one minute before peacing out. She'd complain about his company anyway and he got enough of that at home.

First thing that caught his eye were a couple of meatheads he was friendly with, DJ and Dom. "Ay, ay. Mambo & Italiano. What's good?"

***

"Small government is not the same as feudalism, dumbass!" Warren Willoughby continued his debate with resident nerd, fat-ass and weeb Gary Snyder into homeroom.

"Oh, but it is, my enlightened friend!" Gary insisted. "For what difference is there between a senator and a shogun, really?"

"I don't have time for this!" Warren waved Gary off, storming off to a seat at the back of the classroom. "Go get laid, loser!"

"And I to you!" Quite proud of himself for that zinger, Gary made to take the last remaining empty seat, only to find the legs of Harlan Mann occupying it. "Excuse me!" Gary whined, but his demand fell on deaf ears, as the bum was dead asleep. "Excuse me!" He ordered in an even whinier tone of voice but to the same effect. "Mrs. Turner!" He commanded his homeroom teacher. "Deal with this at once!"

***

Mr. Gene Salmon recited the names off his attendance sheet, droning one after another in his nasal voice, "Travis...Kealy."

"Ay-oooooo!" Travis cheered from afar.

Gene sighed, tired of having this kind of simple-minded caveman in class (He kept these thoughts to himself, as the last time he vocalized them, he received a lengthy letter threatening the security of his employment. If only he were coddled to such a degree in his adolescence! Where would he be now...) "This is homeroom, Mr. Kealy. Not the Superbowl. I expect you to treat it as such."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say..." He returned to fraternizing with his jock friends.

If he received such lip 15 years ago, that would have been an automatic detention. But now, with the unstoppable, daunting passage of time, Gene no longer had the perseverance to play the tyrant (unlike certain gargoyles who haunted this school's halls, who he would not name!). Yes, he truly had seen it all.

A bruised and battered Severino Sagayadoro ran into homeroom, yelping out, "Am I late?!"

"Good God, man!" yelped Gene, out of whom the hell was scared. "What's happened to you?!"

Panting terribly, Severino gasped, "Nothing...just...fell down the stairs."

"The stairs?" Gene guffawed. "What stairs? The Spanish Steps? Ha! You look a mess!"

"I..." Severino continued to explain himself through beleaguered gasps of air. "...know...the walk...it was longer than I thought."

"Well, that is why we have the bus, young man!" Gene reprimanded the boy. "Do you need to go the nurse?"

"No...I..." Finally having caught his breath, Severino said with a smile, "I think I'm OK."

"Very good." The teacher scribbled something on a slip of paper and handed it to Severino.

Severino took it, confused. "What's this?"

"A pass for the main office, Mr. Sagayadoro," Gene explained bluntly. "You're eight minutes late."

Burying his face in his hands, Severino repressed the urge to curse and further damn him to whatever discipline awaited his poor soul, and trudged right back out of homeroom.

Maybe he'd get it right next year.

-A lot of people

Quote from ThePlotMurderer on July 14, 2024, 11:15 am

Stephanie wrinkled her nose up, "Maybe they opened one of those specialty schools for at-need populations," she indulged in a catty smirk, "Someplace to put all the mouth-breathers."

"Nina!" Tyler leaned over from his desk, practically faceplanting on the tiles in his zeal.

"Or not," Stephanie smirked, for Erin's benefit.

Nina, for her part, was less amused, pointedly scrolling through her phone with one hand, aware of her friends buzzing off to one side, and Tyler eagerly teetering on the other.

"Nina..." he tried again, "I know you can hear me."

"That's the problem," she muttered, not looking up. She could hear twin guffawing in the row behind her and turned to glare at the boys in question. Adam wiped the grin off his face at once, pointing accusatorily at Francisco, who smiled, lifting his hands in surrender as he nodded his head to Luke, who looked back and forth, as though frightened, "What? I didn't..."

"I was gonna ask..." Tyler continued, doggedly determined, "If you got my text."

Nina pressed her lips into a line, "I get a lot of texts, Tyler."

"Including mine?"

"Unless you've been put on some FBI blacklist, I assume your phone works."

"Okay, so..." he shrugged, plastering a perhaps over-eager smile on his face, "You did get my..."

"Were you planted in Pisa, Mr. O'Neil?" a booming baritone rang out through the room, having the immediate effect of hushing half a dozen simultaneous conversations at once.

Tyler's face fell immediately as he looked, grudgingly, toward the stout, spheroid, silver-haired woman at the front of the room, "Not last I checked, Mrs. V."

"Then quit the leaning," Mrs. Vespucci ordered brusquely, returning to the clipboard in her hand, on which she was completing her attendance. Tyler straightened up, suitably chastened, giving a dirty look to the chuckling Adam and Francisco as he did, and sparing only the briefest of reluctant glances Nina's way.

"Um...okay?" Stephanie cocked an eyebrow, "You wanna tell us what that was?"

"Very sad," said Nina casually, "Next question."

"Look, I didn't want to be the first to bring it up..."

"But how can you possibly resist, blah, blah..." Nina turned fully to face her friend (at the same time, not leaning, both because it was bad for her posture and because she didn't need that desiccated mummy breathing down her neck), "...Blah."

"All I'm saying is that there were rumors..."

"It's Lakewood, Stephanie. Every missed toilet seat is grounds for a town hall."

"You're gonna tell me you and Tyler didn't hook up at your party?"

It wasn't like Nina hadn't prepared herself for this line of questioning. It wasn't even that she didn't want to pursue it. It was, however, the first thing in the morning on the first day of school and she would sooner not be made to relive a weekend's indiscretions.

"That's such a tired expression, isn't it?" Nina asked, "'Hook up'? Makes it sound like someone's being baited."

"Was he?" Stephanie looked at Erin, inviting her in on the bit.

***

"There they go, with their heads together," Gwen muttered Abi's way, looking up only briefly from her fresh-off-the-presses yearly planner, which she was even now color-coding with the aid of her four-color pen, to scowl toward Nina's little clique.

"Locked in conspiracy," Abi observed.

"I don't know about that," Gwen grimaced, "It's probably about boys."

"Any more transparent, Gwendolyn, they'll have to bring you in for indecent exposure."

Gwen whipped her head around to the boy in the next desk, "Edgar!"

"Her name is Gweneth," Abi intoned.

"A thousand apologies, Muscles," Edgar addressed her, taking out his own planner and resuming talking to Gwen as if she'd never spoken, "You haven't been wound up over the election all summer, have you?"

"You'd be too if you'd been snatched from the jaws of victory!" Gwen huffed.

"Is that what we're calling the fifth percentile now?"

"They didn't need a decimal point to mark out my margin."

"Salty salty..." Edgar intoned, "It's really very unbecoming in a lady."

"Sneer all you like," said Gwen, "You know as well as I do that she has no place representing our school."

"Sure she doesn't," Edgar shrugged, "But she's what the people wanted," he smiled unctuously, "And what does that tell you?"

***

Ashwin dapped Clyde in return, "Not much, man. What's good with..."

"Why you gotta be so loud first thing in the morning?" demanded Sasha, quite brilliantly tossing her hair to face them, a silky raven-black mane whipping around her slender shoulders as she did, "Screaming like you did something."

"Why do you have to be so ratchet first thing in the morning?" Giselle asked airily, looking up from her phone.

Sasha made a face her way, "Stay classy, girl."

Ash gave Clyde a look as to communicate, "Bitch gripe, amirite?"

"Ooh, are we fighting?" Teresa leaned back in her seat.

"Nobody's fighting," Sophie rolled her eyes, "It's too early."

"It'll wake you up."

"If you can all keep the fists to yourselves!" Mr. Schwartz intoned tiredly, "Maybe keep the arms at a nice 180 degrees for, at least, the next 10 minutes. 180 degrees, that's some Geometry humor for you...you'll be getting more of that with me. It means a straight line..."

"No homo!" Keith bellowed into two hands.

"Now why would you say that..." Schwartz began as Manny turned around in his seat, "Has your brain somehow gotten smoother, Keith?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Keith said defensively as Heidi disguised a giggle behind her hand.

"See, now I've lost my place...we were somewhere in the Cs...Rita? Rita Cooza..."

"Cozzalino!" Rita flashed deuces from her seat, "You'll remember it when I'm famous."

"Girl, okay!" Sasha said approvingly.

"And there's the colorful Sasha..."

"Dude, what?"

"...please, no," Schwartz muttered quietly, proceeding, "Jay-synth?"

"Jah-cinth," Jay enunciated, "But everyone calls me Jay, so it's fine.'

"Jay," Mr. Schwartz nodded, "The 10th letter of the alphabet."

"10s across the board, baby!"

"Keep dreaming, Keith."

"Eckhardt and...Eckhardt," Schwartz continued, "How interesting. Twins! I can see the resemblance..."

"Oh, we're not," Michael clarified, his cheeks going a little pink, "Twins."

"I'm his sister," said Christine quietly, "Step...sister."

Schwartz blinked, "...how fascinating," and hastily moved on, "Grey? Grey? Where is Roshane..."

"I'm here!" an unfamiliar boy raced into the room, "Shane. I'm...I'm Shane. Sorry. I have..." he reached into his pocket (Mr. Schwartz flinched and was slow to recover) to produce a late slip, "I have a pass. From the office."

"Oh. Oh right," Schwartz accepted the paper, "I'm so sorry. I mean of course. Just..." eyes on the floor, he pointed to an empty desk, like a signpost on one of those haunted Halloween trails. Shane nodded awkwardly and took his seat, walking right past Sasha and Jay (the former of whom looked at the latter as if to say 'You could do worse', much to Jay's embarrassment) to take the empty desk next to Christine.

"Hey," he smiled at her politely. Christine hastily averted her eyes, letting the chestnut wave of her hair obscure her face from him.

***

"Darius the Great!" DJ enunciated the new guy's name, grabbing his hand and half-pulling him into the desk beside him, "Just the man I need..."

"Give it a rest," Dom drawled tiredly.

"Tell this thick-head why he's gotta join the team. He'll be doing us a humanitarian service."

"Your mother's a pescatarian service."

"We are facing crimes against humanity Sunday, I am telling you..."

A few desks over, Fatma looked at them sharply and DJ closed his hand, "Uh...sorry," he turned back to the others, "I didn't know she spoke English."

***

"Hey, Fatma," Lily took the desk to her soft-spoken teammate's side, "Ready for tomorrow?"

Fatma looked at her, askance. She smiled to say thank you...she couldn't shirk the kindness. It wasn't lost on her...and couldn't possibly be lost on Lily...that the feelings of the rest of the team toward her were cool at best. Any overture of kindness would be appreciated.

"A little nervous," she admitted, still speaking somewhat slowly...her English was supposed to have gotten better in the last year, but she was still hesitant, ever-wary of people not understanding her. She had a habit, she had discovered, of drawing her vowels out, to sound clearer, "My first game as captain. There are a lot of..." she hesitated over the word, "...expectations."

"Oh, don't even worry about that. You're a great captain."

But Fatma noticed that, supportive though she may be attempting to sound, her eyes had drifted, distractedly, to the long-haired, burly figure of Matt a few rows over.

"Is everything alright?"

"Hm?" she turned back to Fatma, "Oh, yeah. Sorry, just..." she laughed, "Sonya's new boyfriend."

Fatma, who knew Sonya by face, but not much else, cocked an eyebrow...she wasn't often included in gossip, at least not where she could hear, "That is...interesting?" she chose, not knowing another word.

Lily laughed, "I dunno. I'm just wrapping my head around it, I think. You go away for a bit and..." she snapped her fingers, "The world changes."

Fatma blinked, trying to banish distant sounds of exploding shells...it was good, really, very good that Lily had spoken unthinkingly, and not tried to apologize for being insensitive. It meant she was trying to treat her as anyone else.

It was something.

***

Desiree looked glumly at the shattered bits of her camera on the desk.

"How'd you do that?"

She turned to Matt, "Oh...I dropped it."

"Hm," he furrowed his brow, "That sucks."

Across from her, Colette snorted impudently.

"What crawled up her cat and croaked?" Matt asked lowly. Desiree began to laugh, but suppressed it, not wanting to awaken Colette's infamous temper. Matt smirked at her indulgently and she lowered her reddening face.

***

"Colette Garnier..." Mr. Trainor ticked her name off the attendance, "Like the shampoo?"

Colette wrinkled her nose up, "Never once," she fluffed her rich, luxuriously treated locks, "My hair demands better."

"And, for the sake of my job, I will not be touching that..."

"You mark my words," Charlie intoned from the back row, "X is gonna have her in the backseat of his car by Christmas."

"That's nast-ee," Rafe sing-songed.

"I know. It's taking all my willpower not to get suicidal about it."

"Colette doesn't date," Rahim pointed out, "She's one of those 'look, but don't touch' girls.'

"You know from experience?" Rafe prompted before turning back to Charlie, "Dude, I don't know why you're being weird about this."

"I'm not 'being weird'," he threw up exaggerated air quotes, "I'm just a little thrown off that our friend has come into the flower of his beauty and will soon, no doubt, be looking for fellow travelers."

"What, like he's gonna drop us like we're hot?" Rahim asked.

"Because we're hot," Rafe quipped, high-fiving him beneath their desks.

"It's been known to happen," said Charlie, "But, you know, if it does, I am going to be very magnanimous about it."

"That's a big word for you, Hawkins," intoned Beth, "Maybe you can put on a practical exam and take your filthy knock-off Docs off my seat."

Charlie cocked an eyebrow at her as Rafe and Rahim exchanged a delighted look, "They're legit, first of all, Elizabeth," he grandly swept his legs off the chair to plant on the floor, "But, as my lady commands."

Beth made a show of wiping the seat down before sitting. Charlie leaned forward prodigiously, "So, not to open with business talk first thing in the morning, but you do still owe me 26 bucks."

"I'll keep an eye out for the IRS," she told him, not looking up.

"You're lucky I'm such a loving, understanding man," Charlie leaned forward, practically levitating from his seat, to approach the stringy-haired brunette with the sketchpad, "On edge, Darce?"

***

"Australia?" Izzy asked, "Word?"

Duke smiled cattily, "God's very own."

"Okay, so set me straight...do y'all really have those big ass spiders that crawl into your house through the toilets or..."

"No!" Iona interrupted, pressing her hands over her ears, "No! Too gross...not doing that..."

"Well, no spiders ever came in my toilet," said Duke, "Might surprise ya to learn we have indoor plumbing too, mate..."

"Ignore him," said Sonya, "He's really very nice."

"Well, comin' from you, that's a mighty big stamp of approval," Duke winked.

Sonya chuckled briefly, "So where are you from? In Australia, I mean?"

***

"What is the expression?" Viv asked, looking away from the Charmuh from Down Unduh, "'Gag with me a spoon'?"

"As long as you consent," muttered Vashti.

"Now, if he'd brought a giant spider, then we're talking..."

Vashti rolled her eyes, "Beacon of sunshine, always."

"Until the cramps tamp off."

Behind them, Harvey coughed loudly. Viv rolled her eyes good-naturedly, but Vashti saw an opportunity and pounced for it, "I'm sorry, is something funny?"

"Um..." he turned beat red, "N-n-no?"

"Embarrassing, maybe? Do you think there's something embarrassing about the natural rhythms of a woman's body that she should be embarrassed about?"

Harvey launched into a stammering denial as Viv disguised a scoff (and, yes, some pity) as a cough.

***

"Buenose tards,"

Camila lifted her eyes from her phone to look at Xavier in the desk beside her, "Hm?"

"Did I say that right? Maybe I didn't. Um...hi, anyway. Camila, right?"

Camila smirked, making a motion with her hand to indicate he was just off the mark.

"Eh, I'll get there. I'm a work in progress."

She narrowed her eyes, "I do speak English."

"Oh. Oh, that's cool. Great. Yeah, so do I," he grinned, "Xavier," he held out a hand, which she regarded warily before turning away. Sighing, he turned back to Travis, "That didn't happen and you have already forgotten it."

***

"Oh, hey, man," Nick nodded cordially as Brent took the seat next to him, "Yeah, it's been a..."

"Salutations!" Dick peered out from behind him. Nick pressed a hand to his mouth to stifle a silent scream.

"Oh my God, he's so cute!" Connie stage whispered.

"He looks younger than Cici," Bruce observed.

"And he isn't even shaking his ass!" declared Juliet, "There's hope for the children yet."

Bruce glared at her, "You know that's my sister you're talking about."

She lifted her hands as if daring him to try anything. Bruce rolled his eyes.

***

"Okay," said Gabe, "Conspiracy time."

Van cocked an eyebrow, "I just got the dreads done, or you could consider my tinfoil applied."

"I think," he leaned forward, "Insert disclaimer about how what I think doesn't mean much..."

Van snapped their fingers to hasten him on and Gabe continued, "I think Amanda has a secret boyfriend."

Van blinked, pursing their lips, considering this for a second before declaring, "Bitch, no she doesn't."

"Or a girlfriend, possibly. You know she sort of wobbles on whether she would."

"This place, she might have more luck..."

"Evander..." Mr. Pikeman pointed them out, notching on the attendance.

"Oh, um...that's gonna be 'Van', Mr. Man."

Mr. Pikeman looked at him blankly from the other side of his bifocals, "That's positively adorable."

"That is precisely what I was going for, thank you, boss," Van beamed.

"You weren't just flirting with him?" Gabe asked.

"No, but I have been considering my options, Gabriel, and I'm starting to think that, until the recession lets up, a good old fashioned glucose father might be just what I need to ensure my post high school lifestyle..."

"Must you gossip so?" Beatrice sniped.

Gabe smirked indulgently as Van leaned forward, "Yes, Bea."

Beatrice clasped her hands in front of her on the desk. Van honest to God thought she might be preparing to burst into spontaneous prayer.

"I'm sure Amanda wouldn't like knowing you were spreading calumnies about her."

"Who's spreading calumnies, babe? I take my PrEP like any God-fearing they."

Beatrice purpled, "The only preparation you need is some quiet time on your knees!"

"Girl, you ain't kiddin'."

***

Mrs. Turner lowered her horn-rimmed reading glasses a little way down her nose, "Boys, as much as I love that you're engaging in healthy debate about high-minded matters...please stop. Nobody is supposed to be that plugged in on the first day of school and you're scaring me."

"She can join the club," Rosalie muttered, nodding toward Gary, "Huele a caca."

"What's that mean?" asked Hope lightly.

"He smells like shit," said Galo helpfully.

"Rosalie!" Hope gasped, scandalized but guiltily delighted.

"Could you mind your business, please?" Rosalie asked Galo, "Jesus, boy..."

"But how am I gonna get you to collab on my next track if I don't shoot my shot?"

"That was your shot?"

"You know it, girl."

"It missed."

***

"You'd be a great fit," Penelope was saying, "You should really consider it."

"Well, I don't know Penny..." Amanda began, "I mean, I'm sure it's a great experience, and you do great things every week..."

"But youth group isn't cool?"

"You know I don't care if it's cool," by which she implicitly conceded it wasn't cool...something she could see Penny had picked up on given how she cocked an eyebrow.

"I'm just gonna be so busy, you know. I'm starting a new job and there's a lot of responsibilities at home. I'm not sure I'd be able to..." she searched for the right words, "Give it the time it deserves."

"Mm," Penny nodded, "And it's uncool. Look, if you're worried because of...you know..." she bit her lip, turning a little pink, "The company you keep..."

"Penny," Amanda interrupted, "Seriously. It's fine. There's nothing personal. I just...would rather not. Right now."

She smiled, "Well, alright. But, um...we'll always be there to welcome you home. Like Hogwarts."

"Oh, because it's a cool youth group and it doesn't, like, burn Harry Potter books for witchcraft?"

"Just don't tell Pastor Jensen."

Amanda smiled patiently as she could manage, "I never liked Harry Potter that much to begin with."

***

"You're shitting me."

Regina gave Christian a look, "I'm all out of shit."

"I thought you had captain in the bag!"

"You could sound less delighted."

He frowned, "I am not. Shit, I wish you'd said something. I thought we could be captains together and shit..."

"You are this close to skipping, Chris."

"Nah, but seriously..." he cocked his head to the side, "That Arab girl must be pretty dope."

Regina attempted to disguise her scowl, "...must be."

***

"So, I like offense the most..." Zach was saying and, worse, showing no signs of stopping anytime soon, "It makes more sense to me, I guess. I was never that good at defense."

Ryan looked him over, trying to imagine him as anything other than an unstoppable, directionless force waiting for his marching orders, "...I bet."

"Oh, hey, he's on the team too. Marcus, right?"

Ryan again only vaguely recognized the kid Zach was flagging over, "That's me."

"I'm Zach. I play halfback. And this is Ryan...linebacker."

"Sup," said Ryan dryly.

"You play tackle, right? On defense?"

Marcus smiled sheepishly, "Yeah, that's right."

"Don't let it get to you," said Ryan flatly, "He just knows everything."

"Actually I don't. Tell the truth, I'm pretty stupid about most stuff. But I figure...we're on a team," he beamed, "Gotta know who's got your back."

Marcus laughed, "I guess so. Never thought of it that way."

"What a surprise," muttered Ryan, briefly locking eyes with a pretty, blue-eyed blonde a few rows away. A little optimistic, he flashed a smile. She winced, turning away, audibly scoffing, "I don't think so."

***

"It's really nothing fancy," Nikki laughed, "I mean, I'm always saying that, you know, about my writing. And maybe I shouldn't. I mean, I know I shouldn't. You have to be your own cheerleader, right, and your own worst critic..."

"Oh, I'm pretty good at that one," said Micah.

"What do you do?" Nikki asked, maybe too quickly, judging by his perplexed expression, "I mean, um...creatively? If you do, I mean. What are...what are you your own worst critic about?"

Micah laughed sheepishly, "Um...I dunno. I've...never thought of it that way. Probably a lot."

"No!" Nikki squealed, "I can't believe that."

"Yeah, it's a real problem..." he sighed, "I guess...singing."

"You're a singer?" she propped her chin up in one hand.

"I mean...I've attempted."

"But that's so cool!"

***

"Okay, y'all, let's keep our hands and feet inside the ride vehicles long enough for me to run down this spreadsheet..." Imani leaned against the front of her desk, readjusting her tablet in one hand, "For the record, since I'm about to run through all of you, it's only fair I give before I take. I'm Ms. Aleheri."

"What is uppppppp, Ms. A?" Gigi exclaimed, "I'm GCotz, but the homies call me Gigi, but my government name is I am not saying it, but it's there on your thing probably."

Imani looked at the spreadsheet, "That is less than helpful, Gigi."

"Process of elimination, man."

She narrowed her eyes, "...Georgina?"

A blaring siren sound from Gigi's phone as she cried out as though she'd been wounded and collapsed into a heap on the floor.

"Yo!" Baptiste exclaimed, "Is she for real?"

"I sincerely hope not," Imani continued, "Gigi, you get the one pass, but the next sound effect is a detention."

"It's all cool, Ms. A. I know it's not personal."

***

Patience giggled despite herself at the display, "That's what my Dad calls 'white nonsense'."

"Excuse me," Bernard lifted his hands, "Half-white."

"Oh. Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."

He grinned, "And all nonsense."

Patience looked down sheepishly as Tami laughed, "Hey, before I forget...thanks."

"What for?"

"For showing me the office. And for..." she shrugged, "Keeping me company."

"Oh, yeah, don't worry about it."

"It was supposed to be my brother's job."

"Your brother goes here?"

"Well, he's new as I am," she shrugged, "But he's been here more...he's on the football team and stuff."

"Oh, so he's a jock."

"What, like he's dumb?"

"It's fine. I'm kind of a dumbass too. It's very liberating."

"Well...it would've been nice if he helped me out. I didn't really expect him too anyway. But yeah," she met his eyes, "It was cool of you to help. So thanks."

"Hey," he shrugged, looking quite pleased with himself, "Don't mention it."

***

"I am going to kill myself."

"No, you're not," said Colin, "You shouldn't, I mean."

Wordlessly, Dylan showed Colin his Snapchat, where his hallway pratfall was looping with gleeful abandon, accompanied with the lurid caption "BACK2SCHOOL STREEKS".

"How'd you find her Snap so fast?"

"She told me how to find her handle."

"What a nice lady," Colin shrugged, "Look, it's fine. People forget things really fast. Something else will happen."

"Something?"

"Someone will fall or a fight will happen or maybe there'll be a shooter..."

"Dude!"

"I didn't say I'd be happy about it!"

***

Will winced, feeling something cold hit the back of his neck and fall into his shirt. Frowning, he produced a crumpled up piece of notebook paper, which he began to unfold...

"Dude, it's not a note."

He turned to Jake, "It's not a spitball either, lucky you."

"I wanted to get your attention!"

He cocked his head to the side, "It's got."

"Check it," he did some weird jerking thing with his neck.

"...what?"

Jake did it again.

"You having a stroke or something?"

Rolling his eyes, Jake just pointed to the row behind them. Will followed his attention to a pretty, sandy-haired blonde. Questioningly, he cocked an eyebrow at Jake, who whispered, not very quietly, "She's checking you out."

Will turned back again, feeling pretty stupid. He wasn't sure how he would know if somebody was checking him out without looking like a pervert or something.

He scoped the girl out, just as Ms. A got to the name on the list...

"Emma Duval?"

Emma Duval...

Not bad at all.

***

"I'm not going to sugarcoat it," Theodora closed the door behind her, "It's a disgrace."

She always entered these sorts of encounters with some necessary trepidation...a healthy worry that she would somehow be made to account for a mistake. She supposed if she thought hard enough she could find some way this particular morning fiasco was her fault.

"I have the other three girls next door," she noted, "I might as well say one of them can lay some claim to defending herself, but given the extent of the display, none of them covered themselves in glory."

Her colleague kept his back turned, facing out the window overlooking the parking lot.

"As for the fourth girl..." Theodora continued "Tracy Lewis. I'm sorry Principal Teague...she seems to have flown the coop."

-Stephanie, Tyler, Nina, Adam, Francisco, Luke, Mrs. Vespucci, Gwen, Abi, Edgar, Ashwin, Sasha, Giselle, Teresa, Sophie, Mr. Schwartz, Keith, Emmanuel, Heidi, Rita, Jay, Michael, Christine, Shane, DJ, Dom, Fatma, Lily, Desiree, Matt, Colette, Mr. Trainor, Charlie, Rafe, Rahim, Beth, Izzy, Duke, Iona, Sonya, Viv, Vashti, Harvey, Camila, Xavier, Nick, Dick, Connie, Bruce, Juliet, Gabe, Van, Mr. Pikeman, Beatrice, Mrs. Turner, Rosalie, Hope, Galo, Penelope, Amanda, Christian, Regina, Zach, Ryan, Marcus, Brooke, Nikki, Micah, Ms. Aleheri, Gigi, Baptiste, Patience, Bernard, Tami, Dylan, Colin, Will, Jake, and Theodora

Quote from ThePlotMurderer on July 14, 2024, 11:16 am

Erin grinned smugly, side-eying Tyler. "Come on. A guy like that doesn't need much bait. He reeks of desperate." She scoffed but her gaze lingered on his earring. "And poser, too. God, is that real...?"

***

Clyde cocked his eyebrow at the all-too familiar Sasha. "Hey: I arrived. If that ain't an event, I really do gotta quit this town..." He winked at Gisele over Sasha's shoulder. "Ay, whazz..."

He swore, he had a cool line planned but Schwartz played his job as killjoy to perfection, feebly trying to get everybody to sit their ass down. But Clyde wouldn't be held down by this. Not after a whole freshman year dedicated to setting this up. He was gonna score, and no Michael Cera-looking ass office temp was gonna get in his way. Quite strategically, Clyde sat a few seats away from Gisele--not right next to her, that'd be creepy as shit. Two seats to her left, west-wise, with nothing but the window to his left. This was a separate advantage, so he'd have something to look out of while Schwartz was droning on and on.

This'd be enough. Nobody could resist Clyde Carter, in the end.

***

Darius glanced at Dom, looking him over. "You play football?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Shit, who am I kiddin'? Coach here'll take anybody, way I hear it. 'Cause I transferred to a goddamn circus..."

***

Darcy practically hissed at Charlie, the tip of her pencil practically ripping through the paper. Shut them out, shut them out, shut them out, SHUT THEM OUT...

***

"Must I do everything myself?!" Gary fumed, eventually mustering up the courage to poke Harlan's legs.

"S'not mine..." The rugged musician awoke in a daze, nearly jumping out of his desk.

"Finally!" The weeb took his rightful seat, berating the bum, "Some of us have important business to attend to!" He immediately snuck out his phone and resumed looking at the big-tittied anime girls he had in his incognito tab.

"Yeah, whatever..." His sleep now interrupted, Harlan busied himself with scribbling on the desk with the sole writing utensil he brought to school.

***

Severino trudged into the main office, ashamed to show his face here on the first day of school for the third year in a row for the same reason. "Hey, Mrs. H. How's it hanging?" He was tight with Mrs. Hayward by now, so this shouldn't be too bad.

***

The kid's chipper greeting practically scared the shit out of Brent. "Oh God..." He let escape before stopping any embarrassment from manifesting. "Oh, uh...hey, champ. How ya doin'?" Brent did a double-take before whispering to Nick, "I'm confused. What is this?"

***

Lawrence Dupont entered homeroom with a stink-eye recognizable to all his classmates by now, but to one guy in particular. "Well, well..." He chuckled at the small crowd huddled around the half-pint before turning to the Lancers' QB and so-called promised prince. "...if the spotlight ain't off Beau Burns foah once. All it took was some Make-A-Wish Kid to steal yoah thundah!" Speaking in his thick dandy accent, threw his bag in the desk right next to Hope's desk, sneering, "Ah'd get out while the gettin's good, baby. Yoah man's lustah is wearin' off."

***

Theodora's concerns were met with silence for some time, the broad-shouldered and stoic figure standing at the window, his eyes peering through venetian blinds, letting only a slither of sunlight bleed into his otherwise dark office.

Another year, another campaign. So it went, again and again.

Without turning, the principal of George Washington High School finally spoke. "I saw her."

-Still, a lot of people

Quote from ThePlotMurderer on July 14, 2024, 11:18 am

"It's real," said Nina dryly, which Stephanie seemed to take as proof.

"So you did hook up with him?"

Nina looked at her, "It was a big party and it was a week ago. Everything's already a bit fuzzy."

She really didn't need these two to needle her about that party, and especially not Stephanie, who had made such a grand production of how she'd love to be there but oh poo her family had gotten an extended stay at Hilton Head and oh well, maybe next time.

"I dunno," Stephanie mused, "I always figured Tyler was at least a B-lister."

"It's a big alphabet, Steph. There's a much bigger margin of error than you're willing to admit."

"Maybe, but you forget there's jack all for good options in this..."

A leanly muscled blonde guy came dashing into the room, his tanned face bright from his exertions and his flaxen fringe clinging to his brow.

"I-is," he panted, "Is this Room 204?"

Mrs. Vespucci surveyed him dispassionately, "Those aren't hieroglyphs on the door."

"Right, right...I'm sorry. I have a note, from the office."

"That's the office. This is the Free State of Homeroom 204. That paper's only as good as I say it is."

The boy looked at her warily, producing a letter from his jeans pocket, which he handed to her, at the same time explaining, "There was this girl, she went running out of the school..."

"Was she speaking in tongues, too?" she scanned the letter, looking back up at him, "Did you catch her?"

He shook his head, "No."

"Appropriate," Mrs. V deduced, "Your namesake, St. Jude...patron saint of lost causes," she handed the letter back, "Take a seat."

Jude pocketed the letter and walked along the aisles, right between Nina and Stephanie's desks, seeming acutely conscious of everyone tracking the new kid.

Stephanie's smile widened approvingly, "Looks like the margin just got a little wider."

***

Exhausted, Jude sank into the sole empty desk into the room. He supposed he ought to be lucky he had such a tolerance for embarrassment or that little spectacle would've been pretty devastating. Lifting his head, he spotted a grungy flyer on the floor beneath the next desk to him and went to pick it up.

"Um, I'm sorry..." he leaned toward the girl at the desk: a dark-haired Latina shuffling a stack of what looked like copies of the same sheet, "Is this yours?"

"Hm?" she turned to him, "Oh. It's yours now. Remember to recycle it."

She didn't sound especially thrilled with the odds on that. Judge shrugged, looking at the form.

'Stop Prop. 29B!' in block print over a picture of Wren Lake, and the subtitle, in slightly smaller font: 'Say NO to Sugar Water this Election Day!'

"Hey, what's Prop. 29..."

"Do you have some divine wisdom for us, St. Jude?"

He turned to Mrs. Vespucci, clearing his throat, "Fresh out."

"Play your cards right, you might pick some up on the way."

***

"Boy, please," Sasha rolled her eyes, "Acting like you did something."

But Opie from the Block had already grandly positioned himself for the attention of HCIC Giselle Coleman.

"She's gonna eat his stupid ass alive," Sasha muttered. Jay snickered guiltily, "Watch. He's gonna get burnt and then make a pass at you again."

Sasha snorted, "He can try. I'm faster than his show-off ass, and nobody's even given me a corner nickname."

"Do you want one?"

"Ask me after tomorrow," she wrinkled her nose up at the intimation of the next day's volleyball game, "When I tell you Regina has been on one..."

***

"Now, up next..." Mr. Schwartz continued his droning perusal of the attendance, "Heidi Grossman? Do we have Heidi Grossman..."

"Here!" Heidi chirped, lifting her arm.

"Girl, put your hand down," Rita chided, "He doesn't need help seeing you."

Heidi lowered her hand, blushing furiously. Manny gave Rita a chiding look, forcing himself to suppress a guilty smile.

"...Emmanuel Hamilton? Hamilton?" Schwartz looked from one of the two remaining students in the room to the other, settling on a curly-haired, lanky brunette.

"Um...no," he blinked, "I'm Derek. Jackson. Uh...sir."

"I'm Manny," Emmanuel indicated himself.

"Oh! Of course. Yes, right...that was...a poor assumption. What we might call an error in my logic..."

"...what's logical about it?"

Derek pursed his lips, slowly turning to him as he helpfully explained, "Like Michael Jackson."

"Oh, so, like, a race thing..."

"No! No, not...not at all," Schwartz attempted to save himself, "My logic error was..."

"They do say racism is illogical," Giselle pointed out, smirking.

"Yes!" Schwartz pointed, "Yes! Yes, exactly. Racism is very illogical and..."

He must've realized this did not constitute a denial of racism on his part, and lowered his head again, "...welcome to Homeroom 203."

Giselle rolled her eyes, casually turning to find Clyde a few desks over, making eyes at her.

She had room for a few logical assumptions herself.

***

"No," said Dom, "I don't play football and I'm not playing football. So you can all find someone else to roll around in the grass with. Cafone..."

"Don't it personally," DJ turned back to Darius, "Bad break-up's got him real protective of his masculinity."

"I'm not protective of my..." but Dom stopped, shaking his head, "Forget about it..."

"Still time to transfer out," DJ said pessimistically, turning back to Darius.

***

Charlie cocked an eyebrow, looking over at Rafe like 'Watch and learn, padawan'. Rafe made a motion that suggested he was prepared to induce vomiting.

"Aw, c'mon, Artsy Darcy," Charlie drawled, grabbing onto the back of the chair, "You don't have to play hard to get with me. Yanno, I offer competitive rates to struggling creatives."

He peered over her shoulder, "...how's the muse musin', anyway?" craning his neck so as to get a better view of her sketchpad.

***

Maricel made the mistake of looking close enough Gary's way to spot his laptop screen. You'd think she'd have learned something these last three-going-on-four years, but alas. Sufficiently scarred for one morning, she shuddered and looked at her phone, which had been buzzing like a reactor for the last 20 minutes, mostly with texts from Sabrina of the "I know what you're up to" variety, and increasingly worse spelled out. There was a single, "Girl, what did you do lol?" from Teresa.

She almost wished the answer was interesting enough to warrant all the pageantry.

"Maricel Mendoza!" Ms. Turner pointed her out, "Welcome back."

"They tried to keep me away," Mari smiled at the teacher, "But I'm stubborn."

"That's the spirit," she ticked her name off her list, continuing her progress between the desks, though she hesitated briefly, "Uh, Mari..."

She cocked an eyebrow.

"Not to overstep, hun, but you did qualify for AP Calc," she lowered her voice, "I ended up bothering poor Mrs. Hayward to see if she'd made a mistake."

"Aw, c'mon. You know she's a Swiss Clock with a perm," Mari shrugged, not really wanting to have this old saw but figuring the older woman would be a less belligerant opponent than her father, "Packed schedule, Mrs. T, sorry."

"You don't have to apologize to me, Mari," Ms. Turner smiled patiently, "But you do know I will accept no slacking in gen-Calc..."

"And you can expect none," Maricel winked. Ms. Turner sighed, continuing on, gasping in brief terror at the sight of Gary's laptop, and dashing to the next desk.

"Sage, hello. Looking forward to another year?"

The bob-cut girl looked at her dispassionately, "It's just another trip around the sun, Ms. Turner."

"You think it's bad now, sweetie, give it 10 years."

"I don't plan to."

"Alright, then..." she stopped at the next desk, rapping on it with her knuckles, "Harlan, if you're gonna draw a penis, do it on your own stationary."

***

Rochelle smiled politely at Warren in the desk beside her, "So what is the difference?" she asked, "Between small government and feudalism? I mean, I agree there is a difference, but I've never heard anyone say it in so many words, so..." she shrugged, laughing at herself, "Curious Cathy strikes again."

In the desk behind her, Dotty made a motion suggesting she should abandon ship now. Rochelle wasn't stupid, but she wasn't about to concede valuable diplomatic points either. After all, she and Warren were both going to be editors this year, albeit of different but (and this was very important) complementary school publications.

***

"This..." Nick said, in a strained voice, "Is..."

"I am Dick Cole!"

"Excuse me?" Beatrice whirled around, outraged.

"It's his name," said Sean, pityingly. He gave Nick a pleasant smile, which what the hell was he supposed to do with that? Like he had cancer or some shit.

"He's my..." he lowered his voice half an octave, "...my brother."

"I understand your confusion," Dick chirped up, "And have anticipated it! You see, I took a series of matriculated placement exams..."

Sean cocked an eyebrow, "Oh, word?"

"And arithmetic, as well! It was determined by the Board of Education that I immediately advance to college preparatory coursework at the high school level."

"Aw, sick, little man," Sean granted.

"No, it's alright. I'm actually quite healthy, aside from a Vitamin D deficiency. Isn't so right, Nick?"

"...he's lactose intolerant," said Nick flatly, thinking on all those 'matriculated exams'. Dick was, for once, not bothering about details. His brother may well have been catapulted directly from sixth grade to college if not for some genius to decide he should do one year of high school for "socialization" reasons which, as far as Nick seemed to understand, meant putting him through 10 months of ritual humiliation in front of people he'd known his entire life.

"It's really very exciting for me!" said Dick, "And, believe me, as queer for me as it is for you."

Gabe let out a short scream of laughter and held up a hand.

"Man, really?" Nick demanded.

"I'm sorry. Put me in jail. Carry on."

Dick beamed, as Nick resolutely tried to look at anything, anywhere else, "I really do feel like a stranger in paradise!"

***

Beau rolled his eyes at Lawrence's usual brand of snide shit-kickery.

"Don't go at each other too hard, guys," warned Kim, "I don't think your itty-bitty individual brain cells could survive the impact."

"Ooh, maybe they'll smush together and make one bigger brain cell?" Connie wondered, "Like those little gooey things scientists have."

Beau wasn't interested in the girls' nattering, keeping his attention on his (entirely self-appointed, he'd happily tell anyone who listened), "You get your can-can in on the weekend, Dupont? Wouldn't want you to bust a toe Friday."

***

Mrs. Hayward looked up from the box of hoodies, "Running behind the times again, Severino?"

Getting a better measure of his particularly bedraggled state, the receptionist felt a pang of pity, "You are alright? You don't need a pass for the nurse, do you?"

She felt so bad for the poor, sweet little dollop. He was truly a well-meaning kid...he just had too much energy for this place. Lots of young people were like that...too much for the schools that were tasked with keeping them. It didn't make them bad people, and Severino had, in her experience, never been anything but a joy.

Certainly much friendlier than the young "ladies" (Indeed!) cooling their heels in the Vice Principal's office. The language!

***

"Saw her?" Theodora blinked, "Oh...well, you may have. From my understanding, she went on a mad dash all the way downstairs. I tasked some hapless transfer student to hotfoot it after her. I have no idea what he must've thought of us, but he was pretty gamesome about it, and even returned to say he'd had no luck. Not that he deserves a medal for not skiving off school himself, but we are the temple of low expectations around here, like it or not."

-Nina, Stephanie, Jude, Mrs. Vespucci, Anna Maria, Sasha, Jay, Mr. Schwartz, Heidi, Rita, Manny, Derek, Giselle, Dom, DJ, Charlie, Rafe, Maricel, Sabrina, Teresa, Ms. Turner, Sage, Rochelle, Dotty, Nick, Dick, Beatrice, Sean, Gabe, Beau, Kim, Connie, Mrs. Hayward, Theodora

Quote from ThePlotMurderer on July 14, 2024, 11:20 am

Florescent lights made the boys room look eerily similar to the locale of the first saw movie, but Terrance didn't mind as long as he got his nic fix in before a day of boring "About Me" speeches that were repeated every year like there was ever an interesting person in the wastoid town that was Lakewood.

He blew smoke out of the window just above the urinals. He was determined that this year would be different, he had finally grown out of the awkward phase Tracy had so happily pointed out in middle school and with any luck he'd be nuts deep in some trouble by the end of the day.

He heard the ding of his phone and smiled as his mother was letting him know his dirt bike had been delivered to the estate. He wasn't old enough to have a license, but luckily as long as the motorized vehicle didn't accelerate at speeds more than sixty miles an hour you didn't need one, so it would have to be close enough. He certainly couldn't be attending parties if he was gonna be dropped off by his mommy or god forbid the balding douche from whose nuts he escaped.

***

Noah was seated at the far left of the front row of desks in Aleheri's class, and it was perfect. He was in peak note taking position, and could easily be called on, without being in direct focus of the teacher to hopefully avoid the teacher's pet allegations.

If he was being honest he was lucky that he had even made it on time, his mom deciding that the first day of high school was the perfect time for another of her dark days. Of course who could blame the poor woman, it's not like she had much going on for herself, she had shut herself away from all forms of society just about after his dad had left.

No matter though, because he had to focus and make sure he could get to the elective sign ups before anyone could take his spot in A/V club.

***

Riley Mara was new to town, and extremely lost in the halls of GW high. Trying her best to make sense of the schedule and directory that was currently filling her hand as she adjusted the strap of her backpack.

This was great, she was going to be late to her first class on her first day and people were probably gonna think she was some flakey loser or something. God that was just what she needed, to be an outcast before she even had a chance to make any good first impressions.

***

Tallahassee sat with a hand on her chin in Salmon's home room as she checked out mentally. Honestly she couldn't be bothered, especially when she had to meet the girls for the first pre-pre-tryouts. I mean how was she supposed to focus when she had to make a mental list of who out of all the new girls that were bound to try out for the cheerleading team was going to even make the cut? Obviously none of the fatties, or the uggos, but still there was a minimum of at least three freshmen who would need to join the team, to keep the legacy going.

It was fine tho she supposed as long as she didn't have some new bitch try and take her spot...that would definitely be the worst. And on top of that how would she even explain it to her mom?

***

Nat was in the A/V room doing some maintenance on the equipment, having been given a pass to skip home room by the trusty faculty sponsor of the club, being president did have its perks.

She hummed along to The Veronicas as she power dusted the crust and crud from the crevices of old tech.

***

Felix barged through the classroom door with a smile and took a breath,

"Sorry I'm late Mr. Pikeman, there was this dog in the middle of the road playing with this dead squirrel and I mean, how many chances do you get to check that out you know what I mean?"

He asked as he moved to the back row of desks and took a seat.

***

Nell and Jamie were discussing the latest trends in thrifted upscale patchwork as Salem sat next to them, placing his bag on his desk and digging out a notebook and a pencil. His neatly packed book bag a haven for resources. Organized and sectioned off based on his class schedule for the semester.

He had to keep his focus and maintain his GPA, this was the year he'd really start being looked at by scouts if he as going to at all, and he needed all the game time he would be able to get.

***

Logan was asleep in his bed dreaming of the spinning cage Tommy Lee played in with Motley Crue as the sound of his alarm going off just morphed into the cheers of the crowd.

***

Duncan was focused and determined to beat his time and shave off at least thirty seconds from his last lap around the track. If he was going to take the team to state this year he would have to do better. He had failed to live up to his own standards last year, and let down his coach who had put enough faith in him to put him in the relay. But he would do better this year.

***

Robert Grimsly sat in the teacher's lounge sipping his coffee as he read his copy of 'What Makes A Man Good?' Thankful he wouldn't have to shape young minds for another hour yet, of course it was an honor and privilege to inspire the youth, but if he was being honest with himself he had thought his book sales would've taken off by now and that he would be on tour and out of this teaching gig.

Quote from ThePlotMurderer on July 14, 2024, 11:21 am

"Alright..." Imani added a little digital check (not as satisfying as a pen, but an iPad was simultaneously more tempting and harder to carry away by the enterprising Artful Dodgers who haunted the halls of this institution), "Jake Fitzgerald..."

Who was apparently another improv artist, barking twice, like an overexcited retriever.

"Dude," Will, next to him, grimaced.

"Can't help it," Jake grinned gamesomely, "I get excited."

Imani wasn't sure if this was posturing, a lost-in-translation gag, or some kind of sexual harassment.

"Thanks for letting me know, Jake. I'll be sure to leave some newspapers under your desk for tomorrow."

This got a few approving laughs (Gigi: "A-GAME'S GOT JOKEZ!!!!!") as Jake visibly wilted in his seat, which Imani counted as a point in her classroom management skills. Attempting (partially) to conceal her smirk, Imani moved down the list...

"Noah Foster?"

***

"So it is,"

"Hm?" Dylan tore his eyes away from his looping humiliation to regard Colin who, to his phone-licked eyes, looked like a runny watercolor.

"Foster," Colin nodded to the kid in the next row, "Chess Club Columbo?"

Dylan furrowed his brow, attempting to recall the hazy blur of those overcrowded and unfulfilling years. He'd been in Chess Club for all of five seconds and had quit after a month, realizing he didn't exactly have the knack and being bad at the proto nerd board game wasn't doing anything for his self esteem.

"Wasn't that, like, fifth grade?"

"And the mental scars have yet to heal," but Colin smirked, "You think he still plays?"

"Do you?" Dylan cocked an eyebrow, "I thought chess was for virgins."

"It is, hence the asking," he pursed his lips as if running odds in his head before leaning forward, "Sup?"

***

Brooke had the horrible feeling she was already peaking for the day. She'd had half a cup of extremely black coffee (Terrie's recipe or, perhaps, revenge) and nothing else before leaving the house. She'd told herself she wasn't nervous, that it was just high school, that it didn't really mean anything different and she'd take it with stride and a big, bright, bold, bitching smile on her face.

She should've told herself to eat a goddamn granola bar.

It would help if she had someone to talk to. Everybody...Bridget, Belmont, and even happy-go-lucky accident of nature Jake were all in the homeroom next door. Brooke had tentatively cast her eyes around the room, looking to suss out potential familiar faces, but she couldn't suss any out, with the possible attention of the one big-headed guy with the mess of sandy blonde hair. Brooke wondered if he thought he recognized her too, since he kept looking at her and just as quickly looking away, so either he was shy or deficient in some way.

There was Audrey Jensen, too, but Brooke had never really had much to do with her and she wasn't exactly looking to start now. If she was serious about boosting her profile in high school, she was going to need to surround herself with the right people. Bright, bold and...well, maybe not bitching. Brooke figured she could manage with the monopoly on that commodity for now.

The rustling of paper from the next desk...her left; Audrey was to her right...got Brooke's attention. She turned to behold one of many unfamiliar faces: a pretty girl with gorgeous, silky black hair Brooke had to admire and envy in equal proportions.

Between Audrey, the surly redhead valiantly struggling not to fall asleep, and the peppy pint-sized brunette engaging in far too lively conversation with some captive boy...well, this was gonna have to be it, as far as gal pal candidates were concerned.

"Making origami?" Brooke asked coyly, indicating the copy of the schedule the girl was fussing with. It took no more than a second to realize what that sounded like. Under pain of death, Brooke supposed she could say she'd briefly mistaken the girl for, like, Spanish or something, but that wasn't going to help her case.

Oh well. Nothing to be gained in apologizing. She squared her shoulders and smiled, all bold and bright and...not bitching. Yet.

***

"Is she sleeping?" Caleb asked, looking at the red-head in the next desk as if he'd caught her in the act of some terrible crime. Joely concluded, not for the first time in their brief acquaintance, that he didn't get out much.

"Looks like it."

"I don't know how she can do that."

"Nobody knows how to sleep. It just happens."

"I mean, that she's not afraid of being caught or anything. I could never."

Joely smirked, "I bet you haven't."

***

Lucy could take or leave the hot Australian exchange student. Then again, Sonya's happy yapping about her own delightsome partnership wasn't exactly souring her on the idea of making her own Harlequin novel.

"I don't know. I don't want to get ahead of myself, and everything still seems so new, you know..."

"Oh, I know," said Lucy thinly, smiling patiently.

"I think it could be serious," Sonya's lips quirked, "And...I dunno. I want it to be," she put a hand over her mouth as if to stifle a nervous laugh, "I don't think I'm making any sense."

"No, you are," Lucy lied, kindly.

"I just don't want to blow a good thing."

"Well, not until the two month anniversary."

"Lucy!" Sonya scolded, "I'm being serious."

"So am I," but she smirked, "Look, Son, if it's serious with Matt, go for it."

"Easy for you to say."

"Yes, that's because I'm smart and sexy and know about these things," which, beautifully, Sonya didn't attempt to deny, instead just saying, "Exactly. Which, now that I'm saying it out loud makes it sound like I'm saying you get around a lot..."

"In a classy way, of course," Lucy intoned, "Look, you'll be fine. Just keep...doing what you're doing."

Sonya laughed briefly, "What am I doing?"

"Exactly," Lucy echoed, "Once you start thinking about it, it's over."

She cast her eyes about the room, her attention alighting on one of her more entertaining thorns in the side. Tallulah was by no means the most graceless girl in the squad, but there was something about her that rubbed Lucy the wrong way. Colette would accuse her of being petty, Lily of being superficial, and Sonya would probably convene an exorcism, but Tallulah carried herself like she was above cheer's chintzier trappings. Like she was better than it or something.

"Good summer, Tallulah?" she asked lightly, cocking an eyebrow.

You know...to be polite.

***

"Rise and shine, Princess," Viv leaned over in her seat to grab Logan by the shoulders, "Your kingdom calls for you."

"They brought the guillotine out and everything," Vashti said from the next desk, otherwise not paying them any attention.

"That was my punchline," Viv rolled her eyes, lightly slapping Logan on the shoulder regardless, "You gonna sleep through another year or are you looking to make a token effort in the next 10 months? No pressure, Webber. I'm just compiling my actuary tables and it helps to have my priors down from jump."

***

Pikeman surveyed the over-eager Felix as if he'd just discovered him on the bottom of his shoe.

"Depends on the line of work, I imagine. Find a seat, Delgado."

"I hope you didn't touch the squirrel!" Dick said, apropos of nothing. Next to him, Nick gritted his teeth, looking at Felix as if to say, Ignore him.

"One can never be too careful where rabies is concerned!"

"He makes a good point, Fee," Kim giggled, "You up to date on your shots?"

"Oh, that won't make any difference!" Dick continued as Nick explained, "It's just my brother. He's fi..."

"Rabies is a quick killer, and far from silent. Once a host is infected, it's only a matter of time..."

"He's fine," Nick finished, though whether he was reassuring his brother or making a point to Felix was unclear.

***

Amanda looked passively toward Jamie and Nell, their heads locked in conspiracy or gossip...it was hard to tell with them.

"So, tell me," she leaned forward, propping her chin up on one hand, "Is this the year denim finally makes a comeback or am I shit out of luck all over again?"

-Imani, Jake, Will, Gigi, Colin, Dylan, Brooke, Zach, Poppy, Nikki, Caleb, Joely, Lucy, Sonya, Viv, Vashti, Mr. Pikeman, Dick, Nick, Kim, and Amanda

Quote from ThePlotMurderer on July 14, 2024, 11:22 am

"Here." Noah said before turning to Colin and Dylan as they mentioned him. A small sneer on his face as the words chess club Columbo were uttered. "Chess club, the days in which the will of the mind mattered more than the size of some over-grown ape's bicep." He said, his eyes darting over to Jake and crew.

***

Riley, after a slight start decided to let the casual inappropriateness of that comment slide, and looked to the taller blonde figure. "Just uh, trying to figure out this schedule, and where exactly my next class is even going to be located." She began flattening the paper back out on her desk as she turned to look at the girl. "I'm Riley, new here." A small awkward laugh, clearly showing her lack of confidence in the interaction. She wasn't really expecting anyone to notice her, well other than the brief recognition of there being suddenly a new Asian around.

***

Tallulah closed her eyes briefly as she prepared for the interaction with one of GW high's most 'glorious', she looked over and gave a hopefully convincing, but very much fake smile. "Oh yeah, the absolute best you know, family trip abroad. You've been abroad right? Or is your family more of a Hawaii type?" She gave a small frown at the end of the question, a look of pity. She knew the game she had to play, that weakness could never be shown.

"But yeah, just a great summer, thanks so much."

***

A small jump, as his head sprang backwards waking from the grip on his shoulder, Logan wiped the drool from his chin, and raked his hair back, out of his eyes. "Wha? Yeah, totally, effort is cool man." His voice groggy and clear that his head wasn't fully unfogged just yet. A small stretch of his arms, and he grabbed his sticks from his bag, playing a simple beat on his desk. "What's the plan today anyway?

Still practicing during lunch?"

***

Felix sat next to the small wonder, an amused grin on his face as he listened to the little dude talk, he had heard some rumored about a first grade narc joking the class but he figured it was just the lame brains making conspiracies again. "Oh no, my mom says shots are how the devil gets you." He replied to Kim with a shrug. "Yeah I touched the squirrel little man, can't just let it's body keep getting destroyed over and over again until it's one with the road can I? I gave him a little grave, it was a beautiful ceremony, man."

***

"Denim jackets, only if you patch them, as for jeans, well in a town like this you just can't escape that." Nell said with a huff. "Anyway, you gotta make the trends not follow them, you do you girl."

Quote from ThePlotMurderer on July 14, 2024, 11:25 am

"Hey, now," Colin's smile broadened, "If you believe in evolution...and what schmuck doesn't, in our enlightened age...brain still beats brawn," he had that unflappable way about him that he got when he met somebody he could chat up...a trait Dylan was equal parts exasperated by and envious of. It wasn't lost on him that Colin's go-getter spirit hadn't manifested when he'd been acquainted with the entertainment stylings of Baptiste and GCotz.

"So, obviously, you remember me as your noble rival in the gentleman's sport..."

This was a gross exaggeration. Colin had been second place in the Chess Club rankings...by an astronomical margin, to the point that it didn't make much of a difference.

"...but in case you don't:" he jabbed a thumb at himself, "Me, Colin," and then to Dylan, "He, Dylan, currently on his way to becoming Internet famous."

"I'm not," said Dylan desperately.

"He is," granted Colin, "It's a mixed feelings situation. We're still in the 'denial' phase."

***

Brooke immediately thought she should clarify that she wasn't being racist, but if her father's career had taught her anything, the moment you say you aren't something, that's when everyone starts thinking you are something, so better to just drop it.

"Oh, I thought so," to Riley's "new here" comment, which wasn't much frickin' better, was it? Like she thought she'd come off the boat or something.

Brooke was not a racist. She just had to come up with some creative way of imparting this.

"Your hair is pretty," she said, "Is it natural?"

That wasn't racist, was it? Like, maybe for Black people it would be. Which is fine, Brooke had no Black friends.

Separate problem! Also, she had to work on that...lot of heavy lifting to be done in building a new social circle. Anyway...

"I'm Brooke," she smiled, "As the mayor's daughter, I think it's my job to roll out the welcome wagon so..." she spread her arms wide, but not wide enough to attract undue attention, "Welcome to Lakewood: Louisiana's answer to Georgia's answer to New York's answer to the little paintings of towns on Christmas cards."

***

Lucy smiled her thinnest possible smile which, due to genetics some girls would pay premiums for, was still full and rosy, "I love 'abroard'. One of my Top 3 faves," she batted her eyelashes, "Seriously, though, where abroad? Lily just came back from Thailand, which is way farther than I've ever been," she wrinkled her nose up, "Or where I think I'd ever want to go? Well, I guess Japan is probably nice. Anyway, I love Paris. Not for the food, the food's way overrated. But the fashion," she looked Ty over, "...which I guess isn't your thing."

***

"Yeah," Viv agreed, smiling thinly, "Effort is the bee's fuckin' knees."

Vashti snorted next to her as Viv continued, "Super sexy. Organisms love organisms that make a token effort to exist."

The thing with Logan was, he was a real sport. Nice guy, funny and, if you were into men (condolences), cute in a boyish, tweenyboppy kind of way. It's only that his admirable qualities were tamped way down by chronic ennui that made Viv, a tried and true Get 'em While the Getting's Good girl, slightly fucking exhausted.

Not that it was her problem if Logan jumped on the burnout bandwagon, except she felt partially responsible for him and it would be sad.

"Yeah," she noted at Logan's question about practice, I cribbed us a corner in the band room while the old mummy eats her curds and whey, or however she sustains herself."

She had a brief mental image of Mrs. Strauss popping wheelies in the parking lot and stifled a snort, because that was ablest and, fuck, as funny as ablism was, she shouldn't be laughing at it if she wanted to be taken seriously as a believer in human rights.

Anyway, there were even odds Strauss was one of those SS ladies who got naturalized in the US after the war, in which case making fun of her handicap was a Human Right and also, God, what a fucking snob.

"Harlan's got new music," Viv continued, "Or he says he does. But 'got', 'new', and 'music' are all variable terms where he's concerned," she paused, "So is 'Harlan', actually."

***

"That is so cute!" Connie told Felix as Dick turned several shades of green, "A squirrel funeral."

Dick, seemingly neutralized, looked at his hands, neatly folded on the desk before him, as if to merely look at Felix would make him contagious. Nick didn't want to start shit, but he felt compelled to make a token effort, whispering, "He doesn't have rabies, okay?"

"We should alert the nurse!"

"Yeah, you're not doing that. He's the only other safety on the team and without him, my ass is gonna get..."

Dick let out a short, "Hmph!" of protest, but didn't say anything else, which was a win.

Connie was still talking, God bless, "You know, and this is gonna sound like the most hillbilly thing, but when I was with the cousins in Rocky Top this summer, they barbecued squirrels..."

"Oh, fuck," Bruce grimaced, "Come on, Con..."

"I wasn't happy about it, but my Aunty Carlene's only got a few years left and when she goes, that summer house in Ol' Smokey is up for grabs and this girl has her eye on the prize..."

"What's it taste like?" asked Juliet, who had been listening despite herself.

"Yanno, not that bad..."

***

"He is such an idiot," Gabe looked over his shoulder at Felix, "You should totally go for it."

"What?" Van cocked an eyebrow, "No. Sorry."

"Oh, come on, he's fun!"

"If he's so fun, you go after him!"

Gabe straightened up (to invert a phrase) importantly, "Not my type."

"You keep chasing that 'type', you're gonna be single for a long time..." Van sighed, "Anyway, I don't think I'm doing any dating this year. Working on myself."

Gabe smirked, "And what's that mean?"

"Oh..." Van waved one hand expressively, "Yanno. Stuff."

***

"What's wrong with jeans?" Amanda asked, knowing she was in for it now and, at the moment, not much caring, "I know you have unrealistically high hopes for me, Nell, but I'm gonna disappoint you...." she grinned indulgently, "It's gonna be jeans seven days a week, and coveralls three days 4:00 - 6:00, plus Saturdays 9:00 - 5:00..." he held up the approximate number of fingers for the latter two figures, "That's my way of saying I'm gainfully employed. I was gonna make an announcement to that effect, but clothes talk triggers my fight or flight and it is too early to fight."

-Colin, Dylan, Brooke, Lucy, Viv, Vashti, Connie, Dick, Nick, Bruce, Juliet, Gabe, Van, and Amanda

Quote from ThePlotMurderer on July 14, 2024, 11:26 am

“I mean of course I remember you, the noble rival part much less so, but who am I to say who ranked below me.”

Noah chimed in as he looked to the other boy. Not thinking very much of just the site of him, but the mention of internet fame did peak a mild interest.

“Oh, and what is it you do on the web?”

***

“Um…Yeah it’s you know, the hair that grows out of my head.” A small smile and a smaller laugh, maybe this girl was like the class clown she supposed, in it for the chuckles and a good time?

“That’s very sweet of you really, nice to meet you Brooke. This place doesn’t seem so bad, maybe just some getting used to is all.” She said.

***

“Corner spot, Corner spot, old heads doing wheelies in the parking lot oh yeahhhhhhhh.” He sang very much off key, but it didn’t really matter to him, he was having a blast.

“So I say we have like a ten minute drum solo in our next song, seeing as how watching me bang is the whole point of this thing right?”

He asked the two, a little sly wink at the end.

***

“So Nick, you ready for practice after school? We gotta lay down the ground work if we’re gonna make it very far this season.”

Felix said before shuddering at the mention of eating squirrels,

“But they’re so cute and fluffy..” He looked almost as if he were about to cry.

***

“Fashion is cool and all, but you know, with everything going on in the world, sweatshop clothes just aren’t my thing.”

Tallulah gestured to Lucy’s outfit,

“But hey, Slavetrade couture looks great on you sweetie.”

***

“Hey, I can only try right?” Nell asked, before giving a small gasp and a bright smile,

“Look at you joking the workforce and making us all look like lazy bums. Good on you girl!”

Quote from ThePlotMurderer on July 14, 2024, 11:26 am

"Nothing," said Dylan as Colin said, "Physical comedy," waited a beat and added, "I'm being a dick. He got owned by the influencer chick and some guy with a Soundcloud," he indicated Gigi with one hand and Baptiste with the other.

"It's a Vine now," Colin continued, "I was telling him, 'don't worry, reclaim it, get out ahead'..."

"Get out, that's a...that's a great idea," said Dylan, which weak attempt at a joke got Colin grinning, "See? He's alive."

***

"Oh, yeah, this place is totally fine," said Brooke, "Boring. Very boring. But we are, as the sign says, A Nice Place to Live. Ignore that my Dad paid for the sign."

How to proceed? Here was an unmarked, impressionable person with whom she had no prior association. She was pretty (not important but, if we're being real, kinda important) and polite (ergo: not a bitch) and she seemed in need of help (karma points)...

"Well, maybe let's compare schedules and maybe we'll have classes together. Oh, and I went to middle school with almost everyone, so if you ever want to know who's cool and who's drool, you can totally hit me up for that. I'm a pretty judge of character."

This was a lot for a first meeting, so she softened it with a smile.

***

"Whatever covers Harlan's vocals," Vashti observed dryly.

"You want a drum solo?" Viv prompted, "You've got a drum solo. Signed, sealed, and delivered," she smiled thinly, "Second thing, and this is nothing official, but Vash was talking with Beth..."

"She's not interested."

"She can be persuaded!" said Viv, "Maybe not by you..."

Vashti stuck her tongue out, planting the tip of her middle finger square upon it. Viv, used to this, was unmoved, turning back to Logan, "She used to sing in church, apparently, way back. Anyway, I wanted to do what I could to tilt the gender ratio a bit..."

She neglected to point out Beth had voiced open contempt at the mere concept of Logan because, after all, her first priority was to build a Community here and you can't do that without a few white lies.

***

Nick perked up, "Oh, yeah, definitely, man..."

He very pointedly avoided deferring to Beau again, but it was to the good if he could see the Safeties were hyped up, considering Coach's philosophy on the position was that they were a nice thing to have and oh, wow, look how the sun dances on the QB's helmet? How nice!

Etc.

"Oh, come on," Connie interrupted at Felix's broken expression, "They were already dead! Waste of food not to eat 'em. But, alright, yanno what is gross?"

"This conversation," tried Beau.

"Chitlins. Oh my God, every time I'm up there, there's someone puttin' a big bowl of the things in front of me and all I can think is 'Auntie, your dog's been dead and buried three years, so what's with the Alpo..."

***

Lucy pressed her lips together. Personally, she found that line of attack ("Did you know your clothes were made in a sweatshop?" as if this wasn't America, where everything is made in sweatshops) tiresome, but she wasn't about to show it.

"Well, that was catty," she cocked an eyebrow, "Woke up on the wrong side of the bed? Hope you're nice and rested for this afternoon..." she leaned back, "Wouldn't want to get a crick..." pronounced like an expletive, "Someplace important."

***

Amanda shrugged casually, "It's nothing fancy. You know the garage on Carpenter and Elm? They were in the market for a mechanic and..."

She stopped before finishing: Richard put in a good word.

He had. That wasn't exactly in dispute, but it felt like cheating to say it aloud, like she hadn't earned it. Which was weird...she doubted she'd be saying the same about a job at, like, McDonald's or something. And she was good at fixing cars.

"I noticed something about you..." she recalled a recent conversation.

"PG-13?" she'd asked coyly.

"General Audiences," a smile, "You put yourself down a lot."

"I know...dirty habit."

"Ever considered breaking it?" a hand against her cheek. Amanda has smiled, planting a kiss to the inside of the wrist there, "Want to help me try?"

"...it should be cool," she finished instead, "First day's Saturday."

-Dylan, Colin, Brooke, Vashti, Viv, Nick, Connie, Beau, Lucy, Amanda

Quote from ThePlotMurderer on July 14, 2024, 11:27 am

Erin spoke nonchalantly as she filed her nails. "Feel like a part of the common core here is to teach us to how to settle early to save us the trouble when we're burnt out and alone in our thirties. That's why every guy here is fresh from the clearance rack."

Jude burst into the classroom, looking very conventionally attractive.

Erin acknowledged this, ceding, "Almost every guy."

***

Harlan looked up at the lovely professor with his charmer's smirk and countered, "This is actually a phallus, Ms. Turner. Very much like the etchings of ancient Greece. I'd never draw just a crude penis on one of your desks."

***

"Nah, not as long as my sister's going here," Darius rolled his eyes at the thought. "My mom wants me to look after her so she doesn't get bulled or addicted to drugs or some shit like that."

As if she'd listen to him but Darius had long since given up on trying to talk sense into his mother.

"Look, I'll see you guys, later," he dapped up DJ and glanced at Dom. "Hope you get over whatever the hell it is you're going through, man." He left the two of them alone, not caring if he left a bad impression or whatever the fuck. It wasn't his job to be a people-pleaser.

***

Darcy made no efforts to stop Charlie this time, allowing him full view of what she was drawing...

...a dead animal of some kind. What animal? Only Darcy would tell you (and she wouldn't), but whatever it was, it was certainly dead.

***

Lawrence's cocky smirk faded away in an instant as he sneered back at the golden boy of GW High. Motherfucker thought he was Drew Brees in high heels; egocentric prick...

He grumbled something in response as he took his seat, already wanting to kick Burns' ass to the moon and back.

***

Warren looked over this lady questionably, confused. "I'm sorry. Who are you?"

***

"Nah, just a late pass," Severino clarified with solemnity, though he was tempted to take her up on her offer at the risk of further steaming Mr. Salmon. "I'm tellin' ya, Mrs. H, next year will be the year you won't see me here. I was this close to being here early!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Severino noticed a room with three young women, patiently awaiting some kind of punishment. As Mrs. H drew up his late pass, Severino felt suave enough to shoot his shot and, like a gentleman, tip his hat towards the ladies. Not all of his confidence was beaten out of him.

***

Teague still hadn't turned around, staring through the blinds, the morning sun only illuminating his stone-cold eyes. "I could have caught her, if I acted fast enough. Wouldn't be the first time I've had to do it. Maybe if I were a younger man..." He bristled, realizing he was veering on sentimental.

"Sagayadoro is playing the charmer with your perps," Teague then spoke up seemingly omnisciently, sensing Severino's pseudo-sly antics. "Close the door."

***

Brent was this close to showing his ignorance by asking this ten year old kid if he was telling the truth about rabies when somebody bumped into him from behind. "Whoa! Hey, sorry about..." He turned to apologize but the person was already moving to her seat. He tried to make her out but she was so bundled in her baggy hoody, Brent couldn't make out a clear picture. "...that."

He shrugged it off, deciding to let it go and turn to Nick, commenting, "Guess some people like it cold, huh? What's her deal?" Brent paused, contemplating. "Your brother's just joking, right? About the rabies stuff? My mom gets sick easily and I can't be bringing stuff back to the house like that..."

-Even still, a lot of people

Quote from ThePlotMurderer on July 14, 2024, 11:29 am

Stephanie cut her eyes at Erin, her peachy-pink nails (kept short for the duration of volleyball season, but this didn't stop her from indulging in truly froufrou gel pasties from the beautician on Crescent Street), "Don't count your chickens, Er..."

Erin's name was too short for a diminutive, and on Steph's lips it sounded more like she'd forgotten what she was going to say, which Nina figured was the point.

"...'new' is in short supply, and you know what they say about supply and demand..."

Nina suppressed a thoroughly unladylike snort. Stephanie had a competitive streak a mile wide, and there was nothing she wouldn't make into a contest if she were given the chance. So it had been since they were kids...

"This is Chloe, and this is Dana..." she'd rattled off, setting the bug-eyed Bratz hip-to-hip on the cafeteria table like the world's sluttiest strike force, "and that's Jade, and Sasha and Yasmin..." leaning forward, her little hand cupped around her mouth in conspiracy, "I'm just missing Nevra."

Nina, seven years old, puckered her lips in thought, "Dolls are for babies," and had thrilled in the look on Stephanie's face, two months later, when she produced that doe-eyed slut Nevra from her Hello Kitty backpack.

She could be competitive too, if given good reason.

Studying the new kid, Nina decided there was no reason to break a sweat.

***

"You know him?" Adam asked, sizing Jude up from his desk...pretty damn subtly, if he said so himself.

Francisco nodded, "Showed up for tryouts a couple weeks back. OL or some shit."

"He made the team," Luke interjected.

"Since when?"

"Saturday's practice," he paused, "...which you missed."

"Right, I missed," Francisco growled a laugh in the back of his throat, "Shit, bro, I was asleep. Be serious..."

"Is he any good?" asked Adam. Luke shrugged, "Good enough for us."

Francisco shrugged, "Like we don't got enough pretty boys on offense..."

"Dude," Luke laughed guiltily, looking past Adam and then quickly looking away. Adam knew half a second of confusion before Francisco piped up, "Oh, shit, right...no offense, man."

Aiden smiled patiently from his desk, "In true Lancer spirit, 'Cisco...no off-ense."

Francisco laughed, or cringed, it was hard to tell. Adam stole a glance at his brother, trying to get a read on whether he thought it was funny or not and feeling he ought to say something anyway. Except that Aiden didn't want him to say anything. That he wanted to fight his own battles...

Except this wasn't a battle. Except...

Was he just supposed to say nothing? What if Aiden was offended, not by something stupid, but by something real, by someone on purpose...

He watched Francisco picking at the flaky black polish on his nails and decided he was hanging too much on stuff that hadn't even happened and, maybe, wouldn't ever happen at all...

Right?

***

"That," said Ms. Turner through a hair-thin smile, "Is a blessed relief."

She supposed she could give Harlan a detention for being cheeky but, truth be told, she wasn't relishing spending 45 minutes after school in his company, and on the first day no less. She was also fairly certain, per a somewhat hysterical email from Vice Principal/Sister-in-Suffering, that she was going to be needed on the athletic field for chaperone purposes.

What, exactly, this could mean, Hilda Turner had no idea. This wasn't the kind of place where you questioned things.

Strutting down the last column of desks, she jotted off a few more names, "Joshua Wallinsky..."

"Morning, ma'am," he smiled, teeth like polished abalone all but blaring into her face.

"Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but I think I saw your picture in the picture a few weeks back..."

"That was me, ma'am," he nodded, "Mission trip out past St. Francisville, building houses."

Hilda recalled the glossy photo of a strapping, tanktop clad stud in a hardhat, hammer slung casually over one shoulder, and feeling the by now age old pre-swoon sensation (always a real tickle, but increasingly tinged with melancholia as the menopause creeped on) before realizing with some terror that she was ogling a student at her school.

"That's admirable," she said pleasantly.

"Just trying to do my part, ma'am."

"Oh," she brushed a lock of hair from her eyes, "Modesty, my friend, is a virtue...at your age," she winked, "No harm tooting your horn every now and again..."

"I like to keep humble," but his ears went a little pink. Satisfied the squeaky clean boy next door was at least part human, Hilda continued toward the front of the room.

If she'd been in a sourer mood this morning, she probably would've finished her thought: might as well toot your horn when you're young, before the years go by and suddenly there's nobody left who cares to listen.

***

"I'm Rochelle," she blinked, not sure if Warren was being serious, "We've been in the same class for four years," at a loss, she added, "I'm on the yearbook committee. I was quoted in the paper at the end of last year."

For a puff piece on how the yearbook was made. But she'd been pretty happy about it at the time...her mom had framed the article and kept it displayed on the mantel at home, as well as if she'd been quoted in the Times.

***

"Drugs?" DJ scoffed, "She can sleep easy. Only thing to huff around here is magic marker..."

At which point, the exception to DJ's rule let out a bloodcurdling, "OH JIM JEEZ JONES!"

Charlie, having leaned so far out of his desk toward Darcy, now fell in an undignified heap on the floor.

"Sacre!" Colette exclaimed, less alarmed and more annoyed, as she turned with the rest of them to gawk at the spectacle.

"...Charlie Hawkins," Mr. Trainor read off his roster, quite resignedly, "Here."

Charlie, pale and stricken, addressed the ceiling, "...not so sure about that anymore, to be honest."

"Well, if you're gonna have an existential crisis, brother," he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, like he was urging a horse, "This is the time for it. Trust me."

"Noted," Charlie groused, accepting a hand from a delighted Rahim, who observed, "Cold as ice."

"If I were wearing panties," Rafe chimed in, "They'd be soaked."

"Yeah," said Charlie grumpily, resituating himself in his seat, "With pee. Because you'd pee yourself. Stop laughing, Lizziebeth."

Beth, who was not laughing, but enjoying herself immensely, gave him a thumbs up over her shoulder.

"I'm getting that $26," Charlie affirmed, mostly to himself.

Beth heard this and ignored it, looking out of the corner of her eye at Darcy's sketchpad and catching the barest glimpse of her art project.

"That's fucked up," she said casually, and low enough not to give Charlie the satisfaction.

***

The vaudeville routine of the minute concluded, Mr. Trainor rounded off his list, "Jonah Hodgins and...Duncan Hoffstein?"

He looked at the one remaining boy he hadn't gotten too, "So, you're one of those, and I'm not a big enough sucker to try guessing."

***

Theodora frowned, "I'm sorry?"

It was difficult to understand her colleague sometimes. He had an unsettling way about him, where his mind seemed to wander, and yet always arrive someplace ahead of you. Knitting her brow together, she looked over her shoulder and with a sigh, "Oh, for heavens' sake..." and started out into the main office, just in time to hear one of her three detainees (brunette: the Myers girl) exclaim, "Another one!" at the portly hatted youth standing awkwardly before Mrs. Hayward's desk.

"That's quite enough," Theodora closed the door, turning to her receptionist's supplicant, "I assure you, Mr. Sagayadoro, you have enough to contend with already."

"Severino is late," said Mrs. Hayward confidentially.

"So it would seem," Theodora returned to Teague's office expeditiously, "Now, is that a sixth sense, Principal, or hidden cameras?"

She meant this as a joke, but on second thought she wondered if that was at all appropriate. Teague didn't have much of a sense of humor...at least not that he displayed in her company. Theirs was a strictly business relationship. Which was thoroughly correct and very respectable, especially compared to the way some of the younger faculty carried themselves, but still...

You liked to know where you stood with someone.

"I'm thinking a battery of detentions, to start. Possibly something lighter for the girl who was attacked. She's had some difficulties, I think, but that's just my attempt to divine meaning from Mr. Frey's Post-Its," she paused, "I don't know if you'd like to have a word yourself."

She didn't finish the thought (she was entitled to some pride, she thought), but it did seem an unfortunate truism that Teague stood a better chance at being taken seriously than she did. He cut a more imposing picture, and could do more with less words. Theodora, unfortunately, was doomed to be cast as a perpetual matron aunt. And while that worked sometimes...

Well, sometimes you needed the big guns.

***

"Oh, Severino..." Mrs. Hayward shook her head dolefully, "Maybe tomorrow," she handed him a pass, "It is, you know, always a day away," she winked.

***

Nick had an answer for Brent lined up...another desultory dismissal, of the kind he'd been issuing all morning and would probably have to have ready for the rest of the year, but his attention was arrested by the hooded figure who'd barreled past him.

For a second there, he almost thought...

"Hey, Bigs," Kim was saying, and Nick shook himself back to the present, however reluctantly.

Kim continued, speaking to Brent as if Nick wasn't even there, "Speaking of your Mom, and because you're such a great guy..." she batted her eyelashes, "Could you maybe suggest to her that her smilingest, prettiest, bustiest waitress...eyesuphere..." preemptively, "...deserves another shift or two?" she smiled fixedly, "It's just good business."

-Stephanie, Nina, Adam, Francisco, Luke, Aiden, Mrs. Turner, Josh, Rochelle, DJ, Charlie, Colette, Mr. Trainor, Rahim, Rafe, Beth, Theodora, Haley, Mrs. Hayward, Nick, and Kim

Quote from ThePlotMurderer on July 14, 2024, 11:30 am

Warren blinked, still trying to remember this chick. "We published a story about Yearbook? Must have been a slow news month. Wasting ink on a paragraph explaining how scrapbooking works. Pfft."

***

Darcy glared at Beth briefly before resuming her work. "It's a still life. That's it."

***

Severino gentlemanly maneuvers were foiled by the vice principal in an instant, proving that a dub wasn't in the tea leaves for him this morning. "But..." was all he could manage before Kellerman left him there to sit with his failures.

Mrs. Hayward offered him a pass and words of comfort, but they did little to heal his ego. "And the day after that and the day after that and the day after that...." Severino sighed, pocketed the late pass and made to leave. "See ya on the flipside, Mrs. H."

Maybe she was right. There was always tomorrow. And even today! It wasn't a lost cause just yet. Reaffixing his fedora atop his head, Severino swore he wouldn't let this year slip away like the others.

***

"Call it instinct."

Honed by years in the field, but Teague omitted that fact, never feeling too comfortable to disclose his time in the service here.

Teague sighed, finally turning around and stepping into the light to meet the one person in this school he trusted. "The girl who was attacked retaliated, yes?" He shook his head solemnly, advising, "She's probably insisting it's self-defense. If we go easier on her, that sets a precedent for further retaliation. We'll be encouraging fights at that rate." The principal paused, his glance briefly fixed on the one family photo he kept atop his desk. "The punishment should be the same. That's the only fair way. However many detentions you choose, each girl should get the same. If one gets less than the other, she immediately becomes a target for further aggression. We can't have that." His eyes drifted back out the window. "Same goes for the deserter. Only thing I'd recommend for her is to provide her some work to do. Clean chalkboards, organize the library, mop the damn floors--something to keep her in place. She's got an idling mind, that one. I suspect some kind of attention disorder. Keeping her planted at a desk is only going to further agitate the problem." An adequate plan, but not a great one; not without his VP's approval. "Does this sound like a clear plan of action to you?"

***

"Aw, jeez, Kim," Brent scratched the side of his head aimlessly. "I mean, I'll try but I don't have much influence over how she rules that place. She barely rules it in the first place." He shrugged, finding it impossible to say reject Kim, who did in fact have a great smile. "I'll mention it. Without the bust stuff."

***

Little did Nick know that the mystery student returned his gaze from underneath that hood, staring at him for a while, taking him in.

This world is either a really funny place or this town was too damn small.

-Many people

Quote from ThePlotMurderer on July 14, 2024, 11:30 am

"Oh, don't worry about the bust stuff," said Kim, "It comes through without you saying. She knows what goes on at that place."

It occurred to her as she said it that she was implying Brent's Mom got hit on a lot at their place of work. Which wasn't true.

Much.

Anyway, Kim figured if Mrs. Bigz started beating her for lookie-loo tips, it was time to consider other options. The convent, perhaps...or ritual suicide.

***

Seeing a shadow flit over his phone, Taj looked up to see the bulkily-clad stranger hovering over him. Frowning, he quickly realized he'd been propping his feet up on the chair of the neighboring desk.

"Oh, my fault," lowering his legs.

Must've been a new guy...new girl, he hastily corrected himself. Despite the hoodie, and the weirdly hunched up posture, Taj could make a pair of legs well enough. Maybe indecently, he angled with his eyes, trying to get a peek under that hood...

"'Sup?" he greeted casually.

***

Rochelle's smile became quite fixed, "Well...people really like the yearbook. Yearbooks," she amended, broadening her scope to the general idea of the things, "Some people hold onto them for their whole lives! I mean, I guess they might save some copies of their school paper, if they were quoted in it..." she folded her arms, unable to disguise a brief, indulgent smile, "Or to, like, wrap stuff when they move."

***

Beth snorted dismissively, "Sure girl. Who am I to challenge your artistic integrity?"

Honestly, she didn't really give a shit if some crazy chick drew gore porn in class. If she was a boy, sure, yeah, maybe she'd arrange to sit several desks farther away.

(Briefly, Beth's attention was diverted to the reedy, shaggy-haired figure of Lice Brown a few rows away. Once upon a time, she might've felt bad for making this association but...come on. She wasn't blind.)

But disturbed teenage girls were a dime a dozen and they were mostly harmless, despite all their best efforts. Beth would know.

***

Theodora suppressed a smile, equal parts tetched and impressed. Of course, she had asked as a courtesy...as Vice Principal, she was technically the Dean of Students and all their affairs. In practice, however, she and Principal Teague tended to swap responsibilities more often than not. Curriculum was her field, and student affairs the principal's. She could harbor a certain amount of resentment about this, certainly, but in the end, it worked itself out. The principal had no patience for lesson plans and the reams of spreadsheets and data that accompanied them. And she, year by year, was running dangerously low on patience for these kids.

"Sensible enough," she granted, "I'll have to contact her parents, of course. The Lewis girl's. We can't have an AWOL student on our hands, on top of everything else," she had begun moving as she spoke, heading out of Teague's office and toward her own.

Nodding in a cursory fashion at Mrs. Hayward as she passed (the unfortunate Severino having apparently absconded), she continued, "Mrs. Hayward, if you would be so kind..."

"Mr. and Mrs. Lewis?" her dutiful receptionist had already taken the phone off the hook, "On it like eggs over home fries!"

"Thank you," and opened the door to her office, where she found her three supplicants awaiting judgment. The pudgy Korean girl, Sue Hae-Won, was sitting where Theodora had left her, arms folded and a surly expression creasing her face. She eyed the incoming administrators through coke-bottle glasses, something like apprehension registering in her beady eyes.

The other two girls...petite pretties in blonde and brunette...were not seated. Cynthia Ackerby, little sister to the lantern-jawed Bruce, who would be graduating this year, was leaning against the wall, staring at the clock on the opposite wall with such vehemence she may have thought she could dislodge it from its place. Her companion, however...

"That, Miss Myers, is a Rolodex," Theodora began, eyeing the nimble finger rifling through the faithful old rotary, "For peoples' contact information."

Haley grimaced, "...why?"

"So I don't lose peoples' phone numbers. Why else?"

"...you don't keep them in your phone?"

Theodora, who had expected this response, huffed, "Trust me, Miss Myers, there are plenty of people in that deck who I don't want in my cell phone. Trust, as well, none of them will be eager to hear from you," she snapped her fingers, "Sit," and, turning to Ackerby, "You as well."

The blonde gave her a look, "It's sticky."

"This school has far stickier."

"Gross."

"Welcome to George Washington High School. Sit down."

So she sat.

"You are, perhaps, familiar, with Principal Teague," Theodora continued, moving around to the back of her desk, "Principal Teague, you may choose whether or not to be pleased to meet Sue Hae-Won..." the short girl lowered her head, though whether in embarrassment, disgrace, or anger Theodora could not be sure, "Haley Myers and Cynthia Ackerby..."

"Cici," the blonde corrected tetchily, "Nobody calls me Cynthia."

"...Cici," said Theodora.

"Oh, like the pizza buffet," said Sue, her voice surprisingly clear.

"Oh, you would know, huh..."'

"Enough!" Theodora interrupted, "Good Lord, it's not even first period on the first day of school."

"She punched me in the face!" Haley pointed at Sue, "She started it. I never had any beef with her before..."

"It's true," said Cici, "I was there."

"Certainly, you were, kicking like a chorus girl."

"I was defending my friend."

"She was," said Haley, "This girl just started Kung-Fu fighting..."

"One more quaintly racialized remark out of you, Miss Myers, and you'll be writing two millennia's worth of epithets on a blackboard in verse."

Haley pursed her lips shut, but remained quiet, blessedly.

-Hope, Taj, Rochelle, Beth, Theodora, Mrs. Hayward, Sue, Cici, and Haley

Quote from ThePlotMurderer on July 14, 2024, 11:31 am

"Yeah, she does." Brent blinked, considering the implications of that sentence. He opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it, deciding to leave their little convo at that.

***

The stranger perked up suddenly at Taj's hello, though was quick to shy away, turning heard down. She didn't know how long she could pull off this disappearing act in plain sight. Ideally, this year would be over and done with in a blink and she wouldn't have to think about being seen, especially by...him...

Nevertheless, she said nothing, hoping he'd get the hint and leave her alone.

***

Warren's eyes narrowed at this chick's sassy remarks. "I'm sorry. Is journalism some kind of joke to you?"

***

"Yeah!" Darcy snapped back without hesitation. "Who are you?!" She promptly returned to drawing her dead animals.

***

Teague didn't really issue a greeting to these girls as much as release some kind of guttural noise. He learned long ago that unruly subordinates didn't deserve any kind of formal greeting. Those who get respect must give respect. A hard-won lesson, that.

"I'm going to be brief, ladies," he finally spoke, looking across the three students on trial. "Be grateful and savor it, because after I'm done, Vice Principal Kellerman will be issuing all of you detentions for the pathetic display you put on for your classmates this morning. This is the easy part." Teague narrowed his eyes, his finger now playing with the rolodex Myers was playing with.

She was right. It was sticky.

Hm.

"What were you hoping to accomplish?" He asked in a tone as grim as the grave. "Very simple question. Don't overthink it. No excuses either. Your punishment's been set in stone, so you've got nothing to gain by lying to me."

-Brent, ???, Warren, Darcy, and Teague

Quote from ThePlotMurderer on July 14, 2024, 11:31 am

Taj cocked an eyebrow at the new girl's standoffishness. At 6'2, with a baritone voice and what his mother called a 'sin-making face', he was not accustomed to being ignored. Probably for the best, he decided. Regina was tightly-wound enough with the season opener coming up. Not that he was scared of Rege and, really, he was pretty sure she respected herself as a woman too much to go ballistic just because she caught her man talking with another girl.

But we're all human.

He imagined Rege lobbying a volleyball at this anonymous hoodie girl's head and suppressed a morbid chuckle. He was crazy.

"Thinking evil thoughts?" Sean asked from the desk behind him.

Taj looked over his shoulder at him, "You didn't see nothing."

"That's a double negative."

"Because nothing happened," he held up one finger, "And you didn't see it," held up a second.

Sean snorted derisively, but shrugged. Taj looked hoodie girl over again...

He wasn't hitting on her anyway. He wasn't sure she was a chick until a minute ago.

And she clearly was on some antisocial kick.

Or she was shy, being new. She'd probably need someone to show her around...

...probably another girl.

He thought of Regina clocking him with a volleyball, which dispelled any wandering thoughts. For now.

***

"Oh, no, I love journalism!" said Rochelle, "Actually, I think the yearbook is sort of the same thing. I mean, it's a...a historical document, right? Like a primary source. It captures the way everybody looked and felt in this really specific window of time. And because it's a high school thing, that's a transition time, right, for people, for us. And..." she shrugged, "Well, it feels like everything's made for teenagers, but obviously, it's not made by teenagers. Like, a 16-year-old didn't write The Hunger Games, and they don't have teens working at Buzzfeed, or I hope they don't, because of labor laws. What I'm saying is that this is a world made for people our age, but...our voices aren't there, are they? Or, if they are, they're second-hand, like in a game of 'Telephone', so by the time it makes it to print or to film or wherever, it's all distorted. And even we won't be teens forever...we're gonna get older, and our opinions will be different, and soon we won't remember what it was like to be in this weird transitional...liminal space."

She shrugged, "But the yearbook captures that. It preserves it, like...a time capsule. A little book that holds these fleeting, really temporary pieces of time that everybody wants to hold onto and go back to...but that no one really understands, even though they've all been there."

She smiled, "So I don't think it's a joke. Really."

***

"We weren't doing anything!" Haley began again.

"That's the wrong answer to an old question," Theodora interrupted her, "I will reiterate: what were you hoping to accomplish?"

There was an arduous silence. Sue folded her arms, "They were shaking their asses like sluts."

"It's twerking!" insisted Cici, "If you had an ass, you would understand..."

"One supplies half an answer; the second supplies the other," Theodora declared, "Teamwork! See? It can be done," she held up a hand, "So, you were dancing to the musical stylings of Galo Santoro..."

"And where's he, by the way?" asked Haley.

"Oh, he'll get his, my dear, and never you worry about it."

"And she threw the first punch!"

"You called me a Chinese cow, you anorexic..."

Haley folded her arms, whirling around, "Violence doesn't solve anything," she looked smugly at Theodora, as if challenging her to say, no, in fact, Dr. King had been wrong all along and we should all kill each other for sport, hallelujah.

"It does not, Miss Myers, you are perfectly correct. Neither, of course, does bald-faced bigotry at 8:30 in the morning or, for that matter, any other time of day, but if you were expecting a sympathetic hearing from me for this at this hour on the first day of school, I will have to disappoint you. Now," she moved around her desk, casting a lingering look at Teague's finger in her rolodex, "Customarily, fighting is grounds for detention," she decided not to add that racy dancing in the hallway was a less pernicious infraction and she was more or less ignoring it in light of the tussle that had occurred as a result. So be it: she wasn't about to submit "Dancing without a license" into an Excel spreadsheet, validating hordes of rumors about her in one keystroke.

"But I believe firmly in constructive discipline, especially as you are only now starting your high school careers, and you'll have plenty to keep you busy."

Cici's coral-colored lips curled into a smirk. What a remarkable course of work Theodora had chosen for her life.

"To this end, I am assigning the three of you community service."

That put paid to Cici's rosy smile, "What?"

"You can't do that!" said Haley.

"Trust me, my dear, there is a great deal that I can't do...but I can do that. I can also suspend you for three weeks to a month, alert your parents, and..."

"No!"

Sue's outburst was such that Theodora turned sharply to look at her. She recalled the little note in the girl's ledger, and made a quick deduction. A rare instance, that her sympathy (which she was not, strictly, supposed to have, but she was a functioning human being, thank you very much, Lakewood School Board) should go with the one who threw the first punch.

"In my prudence, which you intelligent young ladies will surely come to appreciate, I have chosen not to expend the effort to darken your permanent records on your first day of school. And so," she clasped her hands together, "You will report to Mr. Frey, the guidance counselor, after school..." she paused, for effect, "Promptly. He will undoubtedly find someplace that could be improved by your efforts."

She didn't add that Harold Frey's ideas of community service were creative, to say the least. Though she would probably have to issue a tacit reminder to him about the potent powers of liability waivers, and the precious few instances a man in his position should ever need to use them.

-Taj, Sean, Rochelle, Haley, Theodora, Sue, and Cici

Quote from ThePlotMurderer on July 14, 2024, 11:32 am

”Well if it makes you feel better its only on the internet forever, and more than likely will be forgotten in a week before resurfacing in a year or two as a nostalgic meme.”

Noah said, looking to the others, a smile on his face like he had honest to God helped him to feel better. Then again, maybe the truth wasn’t as comforting to some as it was to him.

”Sure thing! That would be great actually.” Riley tucked some hair behind her ear as she unwashed the schedule waiting for the blonde to share her own. She looked to the taller girl and smiled brightly, feeling as though potentially her luck was on the upswing moving here after all.

“Honestly I think you might be the only person whos really talked to me since I’ve moved here, so I don’t think I’d know where to start when it came to getting the late start on the student body.”

”You’re being awfully generous with set time today, something tells me-“

And there it was, a potential new member, and now Logan knew why he was being bribed, of course though he would happily accept it, it just meant more attention for him in the long run.

“Church? You sure she can sing real music though?”

”Oh that's sick Con, way to paint a gross out painting in my brain.” Felix squeezed his eyes shut making a face as if he could smell the rancid meal she had been describing in the room with them.

He shook his head and covered his ears as to not be exposed to anymore of the vileness escaping her.

*I guess you wouldn’t know what its like seeing as how you sleep hanging upside down you bloodsucking bitch*

Is definitely what Tallulah wanted to say but wouldn’t because she could play bitchy all she wanted, but she couldn’t be out right mean, that’s how one loses the game.

”Oh yeah!!! ‘Your car telling you to take a hike!? Call Big Mike!’”

Nell said as they recalled the commercial that played at the dentist's office whenever they were getting a check up. .

“Very exciting stuff plenty of time to get all the experience you need before heading off to college right?”

•Noah, Logan, Felix, Nell, Tallulah Riley.

Quote from ThePlotMurderer on July 14, 2024, 11:33 am

The stranger's silence did its trick and she was left alone again. Not that she particularly liked being alone because who did, really? But she couldn't imagine anyone wanting to be with her. Especially where she came from last.

If she was lucky, she'd blend in for the entire school year and then she'd be able to leave this town for good and start fresh. So she hoped.

Still, though, she couldn't help but glance up and see the nice guy return to chatting with his friend, feeling a warmth flutter within her, just for a bit. No...it was nothing. It better be nothing. Because when it came to stuff like that, more often than not, she was the one who ended up being burnt. And she had enough scars to hide.

***

After Rochelle's little speech, Warren was quiet, his face scrunched up and his mouth slightly agape until finally, he spoke. "Buzzfeed. Pfft." He unsheathed the latest book he was reading from his bag (a real classic, How to Debate Leftists and Destroy Them: 11 Rules for Winning the Argument) and opened it to where he left off, but not without one last remark, "Welcome to the big leagues, missy."

***

"Take this as a sign, ladies," Teague warned coldly as he approached the exit of his colleague's office. "High school is a clean slate for freshmen like yourselves. To scuff it up before you even reach your first homeroom..." He opened the door and shot one last glance towards the offenders in question. "...it's embarrassing, to say the least. Best of luck on your rehabilitation. Let's hope we don't meet again soon, hm?" That would have been all if he was a stone-cold professional, through and through...but goddamn it all, he was human. And no matter how many years passed, his favorite part of the job was dealing with the bullies and delinquents.

So he issued one last order. "And please, give my kindest regards to Mr. Frey. I'm sure you'll get along with him just fine." Turning to Theodora, he asked cordially, "Coffee in the teacher's lounge, Vice Principal Kellerman? Before the buzzards finish it off?"

-???, Warren and Teague

Quote from ThePlotMurderer on July 14, 2024, 11:34 am

"Aw, see, bud?" Colin grinned at Dylan, "You're gonna be nostalgia bait! Years from now, people will dig up that Vine and reminisce fondly about how much easier their lives were when the air wasn't on fire and we still had polar ice caps. You're doing a vital public service."

Dylan was still pretty tombstone-face however, and Colin sighed, turning back to Noah, "Growing pains. High school, right?"

***

"Oh, don't worry," said Brooke, "Everyone talks, but I'm pretty sure every girl in the class is still..."

At which point, Brooke realized Riley meant 'student body' as all their classmates and not as a euphemism for still being a virgin.

"...in desperate need of friends," Brooke wound up, smiling in a satisfied manner. If there was a points system in place for this kind of stuff, she felt she should be awarded a double gold star for the quick save, "Don't be intimidated by the mind games some people try to pull. Some people are so obsessed with beefing up their profile that they invent reputations to proceed them," she paused, wondering if she'd said it right. Her father said that all the time, at political lovefests: "my reputation proceeds me", which as far as she knew meant his PR had thoroughly poisoned the water supply so there could be no getting away from him if you tried.

Brooke didn't doubt she had her own reputation, with those people she'd gone to middle school with, and the ones she'd known even before that. She liked to believe it was all good stuff but...come on. She wasn't delusional.

But a new girl...someone with no opinions to change. There was no better place to start.

As long as her old friends watched their flippin'-frackin' tongues.

***

Viv curled her lips despite herself, "She's got the voice of a heathen, Drummer Boy, don't you worry."

She probably shouldn't have mentioned the whole church thing at all. Beth seemed pretty defensive about it. As far as Viv knew, Beth's family were mainline Protestants, the whitest of white bread. Viv had been raised by dyed-in-the-wool post-hippie anarchists who viewed organized churches on the same level as McDonald's franchises, so she didn't have firsthand experience of the ins and outs of ritualized community bridge club.

All this to say, Beth was neither amazing nor particularly graceful. All to the better. Theirs was a pretty rough-'round-the-edges sound, by necessity.

"Lunchtime," she reminded him unnecessarily, and mostly as an excuse to add, "And be nice."

***

"College," Amanda repeated the word with a sort of hollow scoffing sound, "I think most people go to college to keep from working in garages."

They were stupid to think that, of course, most mechanics making more in their first year than the average Business degree office jockey did in the same time, and with no student debt to boot. She knew the whole spiel, having rattled it off to her doggedly unconvinced parents on a clockwork schedule this summer. If it wasn't for Richard taking pity on her, she'd probably be unemployed as a precaution, just to ensure she never got any ideas about derailing her higher education.

Not that Amanda was vehemently against the notion of going to college. It's just that she wasn't particularly thrilled about it either. She supposed if she did go, she'd probably study engineering or something, which was all good and well, but it just seemed a longer, more expensive way to get to the same result that working in Mike's would set her up on.

"But yeah, it should be cool," Amanda continued, "Anything to get out of the house."

***

The girls looked at Theodora with expressions ranging from dismay to prehomidical. Theodora, used to being the payroll-approved antagonist of all her professional interactions, jerked her thumb over her shoulder, "Mrs. Hayward will get you your hall passes to return to home room. Best be quick about it. You wouldn't want to be late to first period. That would just be insult on injury."

***

"Bitch," Haley snarled as the office door swung shut behind her.

The articulated bag of chicken thighs that must be Mrs. Hayward looked up at her over the rims of cat's eye glasses, "Did you say something, dear?"

"No, you must be deaf or something."

"And that's hardly the least of my problems!" the receptionist chuckled gaily, snatching a canary yellow notepad from the corner of her desk and signing three sheets off it with a tight, arithmetical precision, "Don't get old, midear."

Haley wrinkled her nose up at this comment, accepting her late pass. Cici collected hers behind her and strode out into the hallway. Haley made to follow, casting a look over her shoulder at the pudgy Chinese chick. The other girl met her eyes, expression stony and no doubt threatening.

Haley rolled her eyes, turning on her heel and stepping out of the office.

"What a bunch of crap," she told Cici, rejoining her in the hallway.

"You're telling me," Cici rejoined, "My parents are gonna force Bruce to drive me back, you wait. He's gonna have a bitchfit all over me."

"We could always pull a Tracy," Haley pointed out, "Think she's ever gonna come back?"

Cici shrugged, "She's probably around the corner, stress-chugging a box of Mike and Ike's. She'll come back when she wants to and nothing will happen to her."

Haley snickered, "Lucky her."

"Luck's got nothing to do with it. She's just rich."

"Well, she isn't rich," Haley pointed out, "Her Mom is."

"Same thing."

"Until she's 18. Then she has to make her own money."

"Well, yeah, but only if she gets, like...disowned," Cici paused, and then seemed to concede this was a worthy enough possibility and shrugged, "Whatever," she shoved her late pass into her tiny purse, "I'm over it."

"Next time I see that girl..."

"What? Chop suey?" Cici rolled her eyes.

"I didn't say it to be racist!"

"Okay, but that's how it came out."

"Who says?"

"She does, when she starts telling people about it..."

"Nobody's gonna believe her. She's ugly," Haley shrugged, "It doesn't matter. She'll get hers."

Cici, not particularly geared up for revenge in her own right, shrugged detachedly, going her own way as Haley went hers.

***

"Rough first day?" Mrs. Hayward asked Sue, who regarded her warily across the desk.

"It hasn't even started yet," she grumbled finally.

"So it can only get better!" Mrs. Hayward grinned, "Here," she pushed a little bowl closer to her, "Have a Lifesaver."

Sue eyed the individually wrapped candy circles, "...okay," and accepted one.

"You may be surprised," Mrs. Hayward continued as Sue unwrapped it and popped it into her mouth, "Sometimes the littlest things are all you need to stay afloat!"

This sounded pretty stupid to Sue, but she'd gotten in deep enough shit already, so she just nodded tightly and turned to go. She reminded her too much of the social workers at the center, with their toothy smiles and their staring, 'kind' eyes, always seeming to quietly wonder just which direction you were going to fuck up today.

Stupid to assume things would be any different now that she was outside. Lucky for her she'd never wasted the time believing it.

***

Theodora looked at her colleague bemusedly, a small smile tilting her lips, "I expect whatever's left in that old perk's as good as drain cleaner by now," she indicated the door, "Lead the way."

-Colin, Brooke, Viv, Amanda, Theodora, Haley, Mrs. Hayward, Cici, and Sue

Quote from ThePlotMurderer on July 14, 2024, 11:34 am

"Fuel is fuel, Theodora," Teague commented gruffly as he commenced his brisk stride to the faculty lounge. "And by the looks of it, we'll need as much as we can get." Turning the corner swiftly, he spoke in his cold and calculated manner, "With that incident handled for now, remind me what's on the itinerary today. My little grey cells are having a helluva time waking up."

Quote from ThePlotMurderer on July 14, 2024, 11:34 am

Theodora indulged in a little smile at the principal's invocation of Agatha Christie's fastidious Belgian detective, imagining Teague with a wax mustache.

Ah, for small joys.

"I've faculty advisories throughout the day. Litany of complaints about scheduling, which I will have to smile sympathetically over to the tune of 'But there's nothing we can do'..."

It was a perennial fact of public schooling that you must make do with whatever you had in whatever way you were given. Skilled administrators handled these tasks with great efficiency, balancing ever-dwindling budgets, combining and eliminating faculty and staff positions as needed, and generally powering through a merciless 10 month cycle every year. Districts, seeing these administrators' capable handling, would invariably declare they were doing a remarkable job and shrink the budget still further, on the basis that clearly the admins were good hands in a tight place.

This year was looking pretty grim. After the latest round of budget cuts, there wasn't a single teacher who wasn't pulling double duty, they'd had to cut the Computer Science teacher, there was no more permanent librarian, and as for school athletics...

"I have our Mr. Mucci dropping by at lunch," she told him, "It isn't good news."

-Theodora

Quote from ThePlotMurderer on July 14, 2024, 11:34 am

"Who the hell is Mr. Mu...Oh. Rufus." Teague bristled, not used to calling the football coach by his God-given surname. "Give it to me straight. How bad is it?" He turned another corner in this surprisingly labyrinthine school.

Quote from ThePlotMurderer on July 14, 2024, 11:34 am

Theodora clenched her teeth, "You, of course, remember Ms. McCrory, the girls' coach?"

-Theodora

Quote from ThePlotMurderer on July 14, 2024, 11:34 am

Teague sighed, knowing where this was going. "Let me guess: she found a job she just couldn't turn down?" If it was at one of those overpriced prep schools (not St. Mary's, anything but St. Mary's), he might just have had a conniption.

Quote from ThePlotMurderer on July 14, 2024, 11:34 am

"Following an energetic discourse on the gender pay gap, addressed to me, as if I had personally mailed Anthrax to Gloria Steinem, she declared she was tired of inflating all the volleyballs by hand, she has a child to raise, and how could I, as a woman, condone these deprivations and this disservice to our young women."

Theodora sighed grandly, pausing in the doorway to the faculty lounge, "And so, as of precisely 6:30 PM Labor Day evening, over the objections of my Out of Office Email, our young women are further underserved."

She couldn't blame the woman, really. Mind, Theodora had never been to a volleyball game in her life and the rules entirely perplexed her. Still, that was probably to McCrory's point.

"The trouble is, of course, the season opener is tomorrow evening and the players haven't been told. And so..." she gestured broadly with one hand, "I am forced to send a man in to do a woman's job," she paused, "Maybe someone will mail Anthrax to me."

-Theodora

Quote from ThePlotMurderer on July 14, 2024, 11:35 am

"Goddamn it..." Teague muttered, now exasperated with a new mess to clean up. "Rufus doesn't know the first thing about volleyball. Sometimes, I wonder if he even knows anything about football and we pay him to coach that." He sighed, never one to linger on an obstacle. "The optics here don't look very good but optics have always been more your specialty than mine. As long as the kids don't stir up an online petition and get us on the 6 o'clock news again, I'll take that as a victory." He opened the door to the faculty longue, inviting Theodora to enter first, as always.

Quote from ThePlotMurderer on July 14, 2024, 11:35 am

"Back in my day, it'd have been me with the petition," Theodora crossed to the rinky-dink old Keurig, an appliance that made coffee, tea, and a certain kind of fragrant black puss...you truly never knew what you were going to get.

"Isn't life just full of surprises?" she retrieved her Old Reliable mug...a huge caramel-brown number featuring Grumpy, of the Seven Dwarves. Her Auntie Kay had gotten it for her on a vacation to Disneyland some years ago. It was kindly meant.

"There's also the matter of the cheerleading squad. I can't possibly put Mucci in charge of those girls. For practical and ethical reasons...their practices overlap with football. I'm going to put out a distress call to the women on staff, see if anyone's interested. Maybe I can wrastle up a stipend or..." she scoffed at the notion, knowing finding two nickels to rub together was a sorry proposition in this place at the very best of times, "It is nice," she said finally, with a sort of blink-eyed determination, "Seeing the kids again. The seniors especially...even Galo Santoro with his boombox."

Every year, there was a new crop of seniors, and every year Theodora was struck with a sudden recollection of how they'd all appeared to her as freshman, three Septembers past. It would never fail to be unsettling, these undeniable marks of time.

She remembered Santoro as a gangly freckled-faced half-pint in an oversized Dodgers jersey; broad-shouldered, swaggering Christian Tatum as a twig-thin introvert with braces; Amanda Steele in gingham blouses and espadrilles, like a character from Little House on the Prairie...

She wondered how many of them would remember her, in four years' time.

"It will all be worth it," she said with a faraway smile, "In time."

-Theodora

Quote from ThePlotMurderer on July 14, 2024, 11:35 am

Teague noted Theodora's rare dive into the sentimental; he'd be lying if he didn't feel a similar way. With each graduating class, he felt the passage of time hit him like a train. And yet, briefly, at the end of each commencement, he felt a twinge of pride as all the stress, all the agony, all the battle-scars earned from the school year washed away when he looked upon all those students in their caps and gowns and thought to himself, It's a damn good thing you're doing, Ed. A damn good thing indeed.

But then that moment would end and the stress, the agony and the battle-scars would resume as if nothing ever happened.

It was why he only grimaced at Theodora's little consolation as he poured his coffee, black as a moonless night. "Right. In time." Taking a sip from his mug (Theodora was right; it did taste like drain water), he asked calmly, "I don't suppose you're in the mood for one of my old war stories?"

Quote from ThePlotMurderer on July 14, 2024, 11:35 am

Theodora cocked an eyebrow. Teague was loath to ever air out any stories from his time in the service. He came from a distinguished military family, she knew, with service in every war between the Spanish-American and the Gulf, and he'd received accolades of his own in that latter conflict, about which he certainly never talked.

Theodora knew enough not to be curious anyway...her husband had been a soldier, and he'd brought his secrets home with him. Perhaps too well.

And, no offense to the man, but Teague thankfully wasn't her husband.

"If you've a mind to tell me," she invited him.

-Theodora