Quote from ABEDFAN on October 11, 2024, 11:00 pm

“You’re just jealous that I didn’t bring any for you, and now you have to suffer through whatever week old garbage the lunch ladies are slinging.”

 

Noah said giving an elbow to Audrey before looking over towards Emma. They didn’t really talk, and if he were asked, he wouldn’t think she was very upset over that. They really only socialized because they were both friends with Audrey, which made him feel even weirder for knowing so much about her family. All his research into Brandon James and his classmates meant that Noah probably knew her parents better than she did.

“how about you, Duval, bring anything, vending, or risking your life?”

 

_____________

 

Terrance looked up from his phone when he heard the shrill cat scratch voice of a blonde he’s known far too long.

 

“Geez, I don’t know Maddox. Rumor has it your Daddy bought last year’s bmw, you sure you can still afford admission?” He asked with a raised brow and a shit eating grin. His face had cleared up since last year, he got a better hair cut and ditched the glasses. The only thing that didn’t seem to improve was his attitude, and he never planned on changing that. He owned the world, and it was about time the world got with the system.

___________

Salem glanced over as he was joined on the field by another body. He wasn’t sure if this was supposed to be competition or not, but if it was, it was poor. Maybe he had just inspired something in the guy. The closer of a look he had gotten though, the better he could make out his face. Dude was definitely trying to work through something. He stopped mid sprint, and went straight into burpees. He was going to see if he had a mirror.

 

____________

”always, I’ll bring the jam if you bring the peanut butter.” A quick tap tap tapping of his drumsticks and Logan laid them to rest. “am I giving gay enough?” He asked his buds with a gesture to himself.

 

 

________________

 

Robert looked to the unresponsive class and decided to take the loud belch as a challenge.

 

“Alright class, Mr. Hawkins has provided an excellent dilemma for us to discuss. The act of belching with nor formal request to be excused. Is this ethical? On one hand we have our societal expectations and unwritten courtesies, social law as it may be. However is it ethical at all to govern someone’s natural bodily functions as to require them request our forgiveness or permissions?”

 

he turned to write on the whiteboard,

 

FREE TO BELCH?

 

“Any Opinions?”

Quote from ThePlotMurderer on October 12, 2024, 10:30 am

Lunch

***

"Oh, nice attempt, bad oppo," Brooke said automatically, "Daddy drives a Maserati. It's a serious problem, but whatever keeps him off the dating apps."

They, of course, had a four car garage, and last year's BMW was, in fact, sitting patiently in there waiting for her to get her driver's license, but that was neither here nor there and, frankly, she was above using her wealth and privilege to gain clout...

...with Terrance.

"Um..." Bridget chirped up beside her.

"Oh, Terrance, this is Bridget," Brooke waggled a finger from him to her and back again, "Bridget, this is Terrance. You know him from those napalm-flavored suck-ems they have at the front desks of the doctor's office."

Bridget did that irritating thing she did where she got like her voice had been stolen by a sea witch. God, she was like this all through junior high too. Put her in front of a boy and she turned into a mannequin. That's how you ended up on the 6:00 news. Or at least alone on prom night.

***

"Black Girl Nerd table," Joely staked out her territory and claimed it, setting her tray down on the table with a decisive ring, to deter any potential interlopers, "Calling it now."

Patience smiled, embarrassed, sitting to one side of her as Tami took the other.

"Do I count?" asked Bernard, leaning against the table from the opposite side, "I mean, I'm half not-white."

Joely frowned, "And half what?"

"So, my Dad is Chinese," Bernard assumed a stance like he was going to make her pay for asking, "And my Mom is white, which I absolutely do not approve of at all."

Tami winced, rolling her eyes.

"...but I have benefited from being half-Caucasian. This is very true. My dad's first wife was also Chinese, and because of this my sister gets all the expectations and I can kind of faff off and do whatever."

There was a short pause before Joely asked, "What, because Asian people are supposed to be smart?"

"T-t-that sounds like eugenics," offered Caleb, who was also here, helpfully.

"Hugh who?" asked Bernard.

"Sit down," said Joely, "You took my joke out back and killed it. That's white power or something, but I'm too hungry to do anything about it."

Bernard grinned, sitting next to Tami and looking across at Caleb, "And you're just, like, normal white?"

"Yes," he paused, "No? I mean...I'm white," he lowered his voice as he said it, like it was a cuss or something.

"I like your braids," Patience said to Tami, presumably in a determined effort to change the subject, "Where'd you get them done?"

"My Mom does hair," said Tami, "She used to have a business, back home. Well, where we used to live."

"What does she do now?" asked Joely.

"Nothing. I mean...she's looking for work. We moved because my Dad got a new job," she paused, "He's an auditor," and shrugged like she knew that wasn't exactly riveting news.

"If I had a husband and he wanted me to leave my job because of his work, I'd get a divorce," said Joely, "No offense," as Patience gasped, scandalized.

"Well, they talked it out," said Tami, "I don't know. I guess he convinced her."

"My Dad's a traveling salesman," said Caleb.

"They still have those?"

"Well, he still does it," said Caleb by way of answer, "We don't see him much."

"Dads, man," said Joely dismissively, "See, I'm never gonna get married. That's how they get you."

"Well, they love each other," said Tami, a little defensively, "I don't think I'd want to move..."

"Didn't you?" asked Bernard, "Like, when you moved?"

Tami smiled and shrugged, "Well, no. But what're gonna do, right?"

"Throw something."

"White nonsense," Patience repeated, "My Dad would kill me if I ever started throwing stuff because I was angry," she paused, "Or for any reason."

"See, when I'm a millionaire," said Joely, "I'm going to have my own business and my own bank account. Bank accounts. You don't want nobody telling you what to do."

"Well, it's not like that. My parents..." Tami trailed off, "Love each other. Sometimes, you make sacrifices, right? For the people you love."

Joely blinked vacantly at this, sighed in world-weary fashion, and dug into her food.

***

Music

***

Viv watched him wryly, "You are absolutely illegal in 42 states."

The bell rang for the start of the period just as Izzy raced across the threshold.

"In the very nick of time," Ms. Strauss observed cannily.

Izzy grinned cockily, "Feet ain't failed me yet," he looked the old woman over, his smile flickering, "Sorry."

"I've been in this chair a long time, young man. Believe me when I say I can tell when I'm being made fun of," she waved a wiry hand dismissively, "That being said...watch your jokes."

Izzy nodded, visibly suffering, and took the seat beside Travis, nodding casually as he did.

"Welcome, one and all..." Ms. Strauss greeted, pivoting her chair to the very center of the bandstand, where the conductor's podium would typically go, "To Introduction to Music. Some of you know me already from band or chorus..." she smiled, "The rest of you, I have no doubt, know me by reputation."

Sonya let out a short, polite laugh, but that was the extent of that.

"I am Ms. Strauss and I am both not as scary as you think and not as senile as you hope," she held up a finger, "For many years, I was a concert pianist and composer in what used to be called West Germany. I retired to this country some years ago, and thought I was done with music, but something you will learn...if you haven't already...is that if you have a gift, you can't ever quite tell it to go away because you're tired of playing with it."

She ran her eyes over her chorus girls, noting Iona and Sonya exchanging a knowing look with each other.

"You may not believe you have any musical talent. You may even be right. But in this class, you will not only find out...you will develop an appreciation for music, for practice...and for whatever gift you do have waiting to be nurtured to life."

She smiled broadly, "Any questions?"

***

Ethics

***

Charlie lifted his hands in a broad 'aw, he got me' gesture.

"Can I speak in my own defense?"

"Can he not?" asked Beth, "Just for a nice change."

Rahim raised his hand, "Burping is nasty."

Charlie pulled a face, but his friend ignored him.

-Brooke, Bridget, Joely, Patience, Tami, Bernard, Caleb, Viv, Ms. Strauss, Izzy, Sonya, Iona, Charlie, Beth, and Rahim

Quote from Snafu Guru on October 13, 2024, 10:04 am

"Risking it, it looks like," Emma winced as another kid ahead of them glumly accepted a depressing-looking beef patty from the chain-smoking lunch lady. "Y'know what..." She shuddered and got off the line, turning towards the vending machines. "...I'm just going to get some Sun Chips. I'll see you guys in a bit." She left Audrey and Noah to talk amongst themselves, which might have been for the best. While she knew Noah, she didn't really know him, not like she knew Audrey. They probably had way more to talk about.

***

"Because..." Erin leaned in, deciding why not say what they were all thinking. "...Hope has a man dangling from hers. And she's the goal, no?"

***

Brent sighed, recognizing once again that Dotty was the voice of reason. "I guess I can. Maybe we can work something out."

Speak of the devil, the rotund, chrome-domed, mustachioed coach was speed-walking down the hallway.

A brief glance towards Dotty, a recognition of opportunity, before Brent hastened to catch up with him. "Hey, coach! Coach!" He jogged right alongside him, trying to keep up with his mentor for the last 3 years and change. "You got a minute?"

"Wha..." Coach Rufus was disoriented, his mind obviously somewhere else. "Oh! Brent! Hey there, champ. Have a good summer?"

"Uh, yea..."

"Awesome. Happy for you, B-man," Rufus didn't wait for an answer, barely even looking at his star center as he seemed intent on reaching whatever his destination was. "Hey, we'll catch up later, alright? Alright, great. See you at practice!"

And so Rufus sped right on ahead, leaving Brent in his dust, befuddled and unsatisfied. "Son of a bitch," the young athlete and aspiring singer muttered. "What was his problem?"

***

Rufus eventually reached the main office, the exertion of his journey made quite evident by how much his bald head gleamed with sweat, not to mention how damp his Lancers' polo had become.

"I..." He panted, approaching Miss Hayward's desk. "Are they..." Taking another gasp of air, Rufus finally bluntly finished, "I need to see them. Now!"

***

Laurence froze for a bit, admittedly surprised that Beau accepted the challenge. Not that he was afraid of losing; Laurence was never afraid to lose.

No, he got this. He definitely got this.

"Sure thing, Beau Burns," Laurence accepted the quarterback's offer, beginning to make his exit as he tapped out the ashes of his cigarette. "See you then."

***

"Precisely!" Salmon cackled, rubbing his hands together quite deviously. "They've finally gone and put a leash on the mad dog. I fear for the young lady's safety but I'm telling you, the end might be in sight for the old bat!"

"Wait, wait, wait..." Louis stepped forward, finding himself equal parts invested, confused, and irritated. "So you're tellin' me Teague and Kellerman laid off half the faculty--hell, they coulda laid off Vespucci, if their hearts were in it--but they have the money to hire a teaching assistant?"

"I admit, it's very queer reasoning," Salmon ceded. "For all the things for the school to invest in, I would have expected US History books that actually include 9/11 to be one of them...but I'll take what I can get. And this is a very, very delightful surprise."

***

Darius, never one to participate in class, oddly felt compelled to do so here, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed as he spoke up, "It's a free country, ain't it? If Chuck wants to act a dumbass, he's got the right to."

-Emma, Erin, Brent, Rufus, Laurence, Salmon, Louis, and Darius

Quote from ThePlotMurderer on October 13, 2024, 11:16 am

Lunch

***

Audrey watched Emma go, biting the corner of her lip pensively as she turned to Noah, "She'll be back. Come on, there's a table."

She beelined for it, setting her tray down, "So, scale of 1 to 10, how over high school are we yet?"

As far as she knew, nobody had yet planted anything wet and disgusting in Noah's locker, but there were some hours in the day yet. Still, reassuring trends.

***

Nina cocked an eyebrow silently, fully aware of the electric hush that had descended over Stephanie and Giselle, the former of which had a look on her face like the cat who'd O.D'ed on canaries.

Hope McKenna...a Girls' Girl, for a world where such distinctions weren't supposed to matter. Pretty, poised, and perceptive: always surrounded by a gaggle of admirers, with QB 1 hanging off her arm. Oh, but she's not just a pretty face...no, she's an Honor Student, she's the class president, she's everything.

Hope was always there, like gravity and traffic: an immutable fact of life, unchanging and fixed as if she were carved in stone. You couldn't ignore her if you tried...it would be like not noticing the sky.

Some people have everything. That's the cliche, at least. Obviously, everyone had deficiencies...it's only some of us are better at concealing ours. And a part of that trick is duping the fickle public into going along with it.

"Hope has a broad-shouldered crash-test dummy to take her to homecoming," Nina agreed, "Who do you think comes out better in that arrangement, Erin?"

***

Free Period

***

Dotty frowned, "He looks very busy," she paused, "And very wet."

She shrugged, "I'm sure it's fine. He's probably just busy with..." she paused, "Coach stuff."

***

"Coach Rufus!" Mrs. Hayward gasped, covering her mouth to hide the beef stroganoff she was having for lunch, "I know the Vice Principal w-was hoping to...was going to, that is..."

"Mr. Mucci!" Theodora emerged from the office, slowing down at the first sight of the harried athletic director, "Oh dear," and, in a slightly crisper voice, "Come, if you'll please step into my office, and we can explain the situation more clearly..."

***

The Field

***

Nick caught Salem's eyes on him and, suddenly feeling like a real dipshit, nodded awkwardly, picking up his pace.

Salem was a guard, and he was pretty good too. Nick assumed he was one of the guys with a real ambition to play professionally or something. Must be nice to have ambitions. Nick was really only passable at safety...recruiters weren't going to go nuts for him or anything.

Still...he was faster than a 12-year-old. Whoop-dee-doo.

***

Beau watched DuPont stalk off, rolling his shoulders with a short puff of air.

"What a prick."

"Don't let him get to you, hun," said Connie, "He's just got a chip on his shoulder."

"It's because he doesn't get laid," said Galo.

"Is that your excuse too?" asked Bruce.

"Hey!" Galo pointed, "I am a sunshine and daisies motherfucker, I will have you know."

"And a virgin."

"There's nothing wrong with being a virgin," said Josh with heartrending sincerity.

"Yeah," said Kim, "Puts you first in line for all the human sacrifices."

***

Faculty Lounge

***

"9/11 was a delightful surprise," said Patty, intentionally mangling Salmon's words, "That's real nice, Gene. I had a cousin in the North Tower..."

"They can't just fire Vespucci," Liv reminded them, "She's tenured. Probably this is some way of getting around it...forcing her into making up her mind."

"Oh, she'll make up her mind, alright," said Hilda, "To stay another 10 years! Everyone knows how stubborn she is."

"What is she like?" asked Percy in querulous tones, "This new teacher? That is...is she a match for Brutus's force of will?"

***

Ethics

***

"Oh, hey, thanks, man," Charlie turned to flash Darius a peace sign by way of thanks.

-Audrey, Nina, Stephanie, Giselle, Dotty, Mrs. Hayward, Theodora, Nick, Beau, Connie, Galo, Bruce, Josh, Kim, Patty, Liv, Hilda, Percy, and Charlie

Quote from Snafu Guru on October 13, 2024, 11:40 am

Erin implicitly accepted the challenge Nina was posing, retorting back, "Well, they both do. Sure, Beau is a crash test dummy but he's a popular one. She's the it girl and he's the it guy. It only makes sense." Forking another piece of pizza into her mouth, she posited, "The thing is...if Beau is a crash test dummy, what does that make Tyler?"

***

"Coach stuff," Brent repeated incredulously. "Next time I'm gonna see him, he's gonna be too busy trying to read his call sheet and screaming at me to block the B-gap. Goddammit..."

***

"What did you do?!" Rufus didn't accept Theodora's offer, but approached her, his huge frame towering over the middle-aged vice principal. "What did you do?!"

"Rufus," Teague calmly entered the main office, coffee mug in hand. "I see you've ingratiated yourself back into the swing of things."

"Ed!" Rufus pivoted on his heel and turned his attention towards the principal. "What have you done?! I'm...I'm..." On the verge of tears, he whined, "I'm the only one left!"

***

"I don't know, Percival!" Salmon chided his young colleague. "I didn't say behind to listen in on her class, lest I catch Brutus' wrath! Rest assured, she'll be quite displeased! One can only hope that'll be enough to get her to quit!"

"C'mon..." Garrett waved him off skeptically. "A TA outlasting that old dog?"

"It's a brave new world, Garrett!" Salmon cautioned him. "Brimming with possibilities! I wouldn't count anything out!"

***

"Shut up," Darius bluntly shut down the bug-eyed guy's feeble attempt at fraternization, not wanting anything to do with that dumbass.

-Erin, Brent, Rufus, Salmon, Garrett, and Darius

Quote from ThePlotMurderer on October 13, 2024, 12:44 pm

Lunch

Nina drew in breath, "See, that's the point, Erin...Tyler doesn't matter."

"Oh, it was that bad?" asked Giselle, but quailed once Nina fixed her with a look.

"The minute...the minute you put any of your worth into a man...into a boy...well, that's when you stop being 'you' and become 'them'. And that, Erin, is a type of ego death I am just too overbooked to accommodate."

She shrugged, "Sometimes, a chair is just a chair."

***

"Yo, vato,"

Ryan turned at the salute, bristling slightly, "I'm Irish."

"Top of the frickin' mornin'," Francisco smiled lazily, "What, you too good to sit or something?"

Ryan snorted soundlessly, "That an invitation?"

"Yeah, why not?" Cisco indicated a nearby table, drumming one of his chunky, false-metallic rings against it, "I was feeling bored anyway."

Ryan rolled his eyes, stalking over to the table and sitting across from him, "If you're trying to play catch up, Ortiz, I'm not interested."

"I mean, a hello would be nice. At first I thought you didn't recognize me..."

"That'd be a trick,"

"Eh, fuck you," Ryan said casually, his smile not slipping a notch.

"When did you start painting your nails?"

Cisco shrugged, studying the chipped black polish with an overwrought expression of concentration, "What, this? Catnip, man. Girls go nuts for it."

Ryan scoffed, "Yeah, I bet you're drownin' in it, Ortiz."

"Don't knock it 'till you tried it," Francisco shrugged, "So, how long were you gonna play like you didn't know me?"

"...what?"

"Practice on the weekend. Coach had us on the same defensive line and you didn't say shit."

"Yeah, it turns out I'm a real antisocial a-hole. I've been hearin' a lot of that."

"Thought for a second maybe you got the idea you were too good for me, but then I had one of those reality checks..." he shrugged, "Look, if you're tryin' to play it cool about being left back..."

"Yeah, that's what I'm doing, Ortiz. I'm really wound up about having to repeat fifth grade..."

"Hey, I won't say anything," he smirked, "But I guess people know anyway. Honestly, I don't know how I never had to repeat anything. I was cutting at least as much class as you."

"About the same," said Ryan evenly.

"Well, it was more fun with company," he paused, "You still skate?"

Ryan shook his head, "What? Do you?"

"Pull a face, sure."

"What, is that catnip too?"

Francisco held his hands up, "You'd be surprised."

Ryan rolled his eyes, smiling despite himself, "I've had a shit ton of surprises already. You can keep 'em."

***

Free Period

***

"Aw," Dotty leaned against Brent sympathetically, "You know what I think? I think Brent can bridge the gap between the things he likes," and patted him lightly against the chest, "Actually, I believe it."

***

"Now, let's be careful with our attributions," said Theodora, giving Teague a wordless look of thanks as he entered behind the coach, "I assure you, Mr. Mucci, I didn't contrive this situation for the fun of it. Ms. McCrory made her own decision, and nothing I could offer would've held her here. It's hardly an ideal situation, with the athletic department winnowed down as it is..."

'Winnowed down' being quite a phrase, given Rufus was the sole surviving member, after their baseball coach vanished without so much as an email at the end of last term.

"I won't sugarcoat it: it is a crisis. But in times of crisis, it is on us, as educators and leaders for these young people to do the very best we can for the children, to ensure they...enter the scoring zone," she raised a fist like a gladiator saluting Caesar, "Despite the shortcomings of their coaches."

She paused, "Metaphorically speaking."

***

Faculty Lounge

***

"I don't know," muttered Hilda, "It feels ghoulish to think about it."

"Oh, there's a ghoul inside all of us," said Sammy, "And a Nazi, and a racist, and a sex pest too..."

"Is that what you tell all those lonely women on that radio show of yours?" asked Patty.

"...my theory is you have to find harmless ways to feed them. And old Brutus is, pardon me, a soft target."

"Well, she's still human," said Hilda, "And I guess she doesn't have much else to keep her busy, since her husband died. Who knows what she'll do when she doesn't have to teach anymore?"

There was a short silence before Patty shrugged, "Die."

-Nina, Giselle, Francisco, Ryan, Dotty, Theodora, Hilda, Sammy, and Patty

Quote from valerious on October 13, 2024, 1:38 pm

Mei stood next to her aging counterpart. Arms crossed over her chest and eyes bouncing from student to student as they entered the room. Trying to gauge who she might be able to pick on when the class inevitably went mute.

She gave a soft hum in response to Vespucci’s explanation of the so-called prodigy. A twinge of pity rang out through her. Being so young with such high expectations was never good. On top of that, the social pitfalls of being a child prodigy would certainly cause lasting damage. Yet, the kid seemed perfectly content…so far.

As the child, Dick, walked away Mei leaned down with a mummer of her own “I don’t think being a prodigy is worth much in general. A lifetime of pressure and lack of proper socializing. Poor Dick may pop.”

Nevermind the fact that his name is Dick. A perfectly acceptable name, but kids are assholes.

It seemed Mei had her first student that she would have to keep an eye on.

With a waggle of her fingers, Mei addressed the smiley boy. “Hello,” She hummed softly before pointing toward the row of desks. She wanted to be friendly with the kids, but not so friendly they felt brave enough to have a flirt.

She leaned toward Vespucci again. “You know, a nice pop quiz may be a good way of seeing how ready for AP World History these kids really are…I have one already printed up. We could skip your little film.”

Without waiting for an answer, Mei dipped down and scooped the test from her bag. A bright smile on her lips as she waited for ‘permission’ to hand them out.

Quote from ThePlotMurderer on October 13, 2024, 2:16 pm

AP World

***

"Oh, they don't get the film," said Mrs. Vespucci, "They're seniors: I've had them all twice before this. They know the score, or they'll be sorry."

'Little film'. That was very nice. Everybody thought the video was disgusting. It was! That was the point. Negative reinforcement. You had to put some fear into them to get them in good order. It wasn't a novel concept...

"But a quiz," Vespucci nodded, "That's not a bad idea. I keep the quizzes in a binder..." she reached under her desk and produced ol' reliable: a full-to-bursting folio containing 200 much-photocopied (but never altered) quizzes dating back a decade or three, "I've got some real monsters in here. That'll keep them humble..."

***

"And then he said he was going to visit church," said Penny brightly as she sat down.

"Warren said that?" Hope cocked an eyebrow, taking the desk beside her, "I didn't think he believed in that sort of thing."

"What, God?"

"Charity."

Penny shrugged, "I guess he thinks it'd be a good story."

-Mrs. Vespucci, Penny, and Hope

Quote from valerious on October 13, 2024, 6:00 pm

Mei's brows raised as Vespucci actually agreed to the test. She had anticipated a little pushback, but she supposed the woman liked to torture the children in a variety of ways.

Well, at least we can agree on pop quizzes being entertaining.

"Oh, no need to make fresh copies! I actually already have a quiz ready." She chimed in. Handing one of her crisper, cleaner tests over to Vespucci. "The questions are broken up into categories as opposed to periods. There are questions that cover cultural history, demographics and environmental history, political history, and social history. I passed on economic history for now. Figured I didn't want to throw them too far into the deep end just yet. "

Mei gently flapped the stack of papers. A mischievous glint in her eyes. "Everything that they should be learning this year."

With a spin on her heel and a flip of the hair, the TA turned back toward the students and began passing out the test just as the final bell rang.

"Alrighty, listen up kiddos! Today we are having a pop quiz. This is designed to see how much you know already not necessarily what you should already know."

She walked over to the littlest of the bunch, Dick, and placed a test gently on his desk. Resisting the urge to ruffle his hair as she offered him a warm grin before continuing down the line of the desks. "Anyone who gets above a 70% will get to try some candy from China. Those that get anything lower, well, you can have some dried sour plums if you want."

She continued around the room. Laying the test face down. Eyeing the boy who had been so keen to say hello to her earlier. "Whoever gets the highest score and impresses me the most will get a handcrafted lucky charm."

With one final turn, she made her way up to the front desk and leaned against it. Arms crossing over her chest. With a playful tilt of the head "If there aren't any questions" ...she had no intention of answering any " You may begin! Bring it up here when you're done and I'll grade it on the spot."

As the students set to work, she leaned over toward Vespucci and innocently batted her eyes "Studies show that positive reinforcement works best. I have loads of prizes ready to use throughout the school year."

Quote from ThePlotMurderer on October 13, 2024, 6:23 pm

Vespucci stared about as many daggers as her nickname would imply at her TA.

"How nice," she said tartly, shutting the folio with a decisive thud.

And what was this business about offering candy as bribes? These were high school seniors: they were powered by pornography and hot chips, but you didn't see Vespucci handing those out in class...and look how she'd managed!

"This is Ms. Chang," she introduced the TA with a short wave of her hand, "You know me by now, or you will."

Obviously, Dick Cole didn't know her, but he looked prepared to shackle himself to the altar anyway, so it wasn't like he was going to be any trouble. She thought she caught him mouthing the word "Fascinating" as the bit about the Chinese candy.

At Mei's little aside, Vespucci retorted, "Studies show all sorts of things. You know who else had lots of studies? Dr. Mengele," she paused, "But by all means."

***

"Oh wow, she's Chinese," whispered Penny, looking significantly at Christian, who blinked.

"...okay?"

"Aren't..." she paused, as if embarrassed, "Aren't you Chinese?"

"Oh," he paused as if just remembering this vital fact, "I mean, I guess. Maybe she's not Chinese, though, just because she has Chinese candy," he made a finger gun, "You just did a racism, Pen."

She rolled her eyes, "You should ask if she's from China."

"...why would I do that?"

"Well, weren't you born in..." but she stopped, "Nevermind."

"I mean, if you were born in, like..." he paused, trying to think of a country and somehow only coming up with, "Switzerland, and some lady came in with a Ricola, would you be weird about it?"

"Okay, you've made your point," which he hadn't, but she wasn't about to die on this hill.

***

"Remember," Vespucci lifted a stubby finger, "No stray eyes or you'll get it worse than Paul at the Damascus exit."

She paused, turning back to Mei, "You've gotta take the bitter with the sweet."

-Vespucci, Dick, Christian, and Penny

Quote from ABEDFAN on October 18, 2024, 8:21 pm

“About a four, slow day so far so I’m sure by tomorrow we’ll crank that up to an eleven.” Noah chimed, making his way for the table.

 

______

 

 

”Well then please inform your side of the student population, I haven’t had a moments peace all day from these girls. Like geez can’t a guy go a day without feeling like a piece of meat.” Logan whines a hand on his cheek as he settles in to hear some old crow talk about Mozart or something.

 

_____

 

”Gotta love a man who isn’t afraid to drive an effeminate car, who cares about all those rumors, more power to him.” Terrance grinned up at Brooke, before turning to Bridget. “Tell you what, as long as you’re here, the future trophy wife can sit too.” He offered a hand to her, “Terrance Smith, yeah it’s big, but my trust fund is much, much LARGER.”

 

________

 

”okay, okay now class.  Darius brings up a good point, asking the question, if someone so chooses to act in a way outside of societal standards, that should be their prerogative. Any rebuttals?.”

Robert looks down at his attendance sheet,

 

”how about you Miss Fan, what’s your take?”

Quote from ThePlotMurderer on October 19, 2024, 3:18 pm

Lunch

***

Audrey grimaced in solidarity, "If it's any consolation, if the order of magnitude gets high enough in a short enough time, you'll reach a singularity and explode, taking all of us out with you," she paused, "Or something. I heard it on a YouTube video once, but I slept through most of it."

She cocked an eyebrow, "And, yanno...not to be condescending or whatever...but if you do need help knocking some heads together..." she shrugged, "I could use the exercise."

***

"That's cute, Terrance. Speaking of rumors, is it true your folks sleep in separate rooms, or is that just a salacious lie spread by the health food lobby?" she turned to Bridget, "Don't let him bother you, Bridge, he's mostly hot air..."

"Trophy wife?" Bridget repeated with a sort of wide-eyed vacancy that Brooke found both pitiable and irritating.

"Seriously, don't feed the animals. He's really..."

"That's really rude!" Bridget snapped, quite pink in the face.

"Yes, that's his entire thing. It was very precious for five seconds when we were all four years old, but I guess nobody's had the heart to tell him to drop the sht..."

"You should apologize," Bridget folded her arms, "For talking to me like that."

There was a half second pause in which Brooke couldn't quite hide a satisfied smirk from her lips as she looked across at Terrance, like, "You heard the lady."

Unfortunately, it was also at this very moment that Terrance's phone buzzed to life with a new text proclaiming, in all capital letters: "SOS"

Bridget, oblivious, prompted, "...well?"

***

"Hey, sleepyhead,"

Poppy looked up at the beak-nosed Soundcloud rapper with a bleary eye, "...what?"

"I'm Baptiste," he said by way of answer, sitting down across from her, "How 'bout you let me convert you?"

What else was she supposed to do? She laughed. It wasn't a big hearty laugh, and disguising it as a cough only made it more bombastic.

"Are you serious?"

"I got jokes too, if you're interested, but I got one look at those baby blues and I got that poetical feeling in my solar plexus, you know what I'm saying?"

"I don't think so," said Poppy, "Which is probably good for you."

"Yo, Rosielocks," Julio was next to approach the table, "This seat free?"

Baptiste glowered, "We were conversatin'."'

"Yeah, have a seat," said Poppy flatly.

"Sweet," Julio obliged, sitting to her right, "Hey, Baps, right?"

"That's right," Baptiste nodded dubiously, "You heard my Soundcloud?"

"No, but I heard everyone else hearin' about your Soundcloud. Smooth marketing plan, man. Legit."

Baptiste stared at him with bug-eyes, evidently struck dumb for the moment. Poppy curled her lips behind her hand.

***

Ethics

Lily sat up straighter in her seat, aware of Sabrina glowering unpleasantly behind her. What, like she'd earned Grimsly's favor by being called on or something? God, she hoped not. Then again, she couldn't remember whether Sabrina had settled on an answer to the 'is he hot?' question.

"I mean, people can do whatever they want," said Lily, "As long as it's legal, right?"

"Hell yeah," said Charlie automatically.

"But," Lily pressed on, "There's still standards, right? You should try not to be gross if you can help it."

"Like having good manners," Desiree offered.

"Yeah, that, but also just...little nice things. Like returning the shopping cart at the store, right? You don't have to do that...like, nobody's going to arrest you if you don't bring the cart back to the little line thing when you're done, but you do it anyway..."

"You might," smirked DJ.

"Most of us do it anyway because we understand that it's the right thing to do," said Lily, "Just like most of us don't burp in public if we can help it."

"Okay, full disclosure, I wasn't actually burping," said Charlie, "And I greatly resent the coopting of this narrative..."

-Audrey, Brooke, Bridget, Tracy, Poppy, Baptiste, Julio, Lily, Sabrina, Desiree, DJ, and Charlie

Quote from valerious on October 19, 2024, 7:15 pm

Meilin simply nodded in response to Vespucci. Not willing to push her buttons too much more than she already had.

As the students set about the test, Meilin curiously walked around the room. Glancing down to see where the students struggled and excelled. Unfortunately, it was a mixed bagged. No one question seemed to stump the kids more than another.

As the students started coming up one by one, she found herself pleasantly surprised. More passes than fails and that was fantastic. She looked over to Vespucci with a pleased smile and whispered, “Seems this lot has great potential!”

Once the last test was returned, she went round. Plopping a little milk candy on the desks of those who passed before turning to address the class. “I am very impressed. Over half of you passed with flying colors.”

She pulled out the two braided good-luck charms and placed one on Warren’s desk and the on Dick’s “You two tied. Good job.”

Her brow cocked as she glanced back at Vespucci. She supposed it was time for some of that bitter…or rather sour. “So, those of you that didn’t hit the mark can try a sour plum…if you dare,” She giggled. Pulling out a bag filled with bright red, wrinkled plums.

“Maybe Mrs. Vespucci would like to take the lead?” She leaned over offering the open bag. A challenge. Meilin wanted to see just how tough this old bag was.  “My grandparents love these,” she added playfully.

Quote from ThePlotMurderer on October 20, 2024, 9:57 am

AP World

***

Mrs. Vespucci revolved a tight 90 degrees on her heel to stare down...or, well, up...at her presumptive subordinate.

"I'm more of a Werthers girl, myself," she said monotonously. This was patently untrue: hard candies were nothing more or less than miniature missiles in waiting. This notion that people of a certain age had some predisposition toward the things, like cows chewing cud to keep the dementia at bay.

Oh, but everyone was staring now. Not Dick Cole, no, he was smiling the beatific smile of the child saint, which was all good and well now but the last thing a child like that needed was a well-fed ego. Everybody else, however...

Well, possibly Taj Ashford was just leering at Mei for purely carnal reasons, but everyone else was getting their jollies from this battle of wills. Gabe Aquino was practically leaning forward in his seat, the diva, though that was just as likely to conceal what looked like a truly embarrassing score.

"Well," she shrugged, unwrapped the little morsel and turning it around in her hand, "I'll try anything once."

"Atta girl!"

"That's enough out of you, Aquino," she scolded without looking at him, popping the little sweet into her mouth.

Well, Score 1 for Communism, she thought sagely as her insides contracted into a venomous, razor-edged ouroboros.

She couldn't imagine anybody eating these things for fun, but then again, sadism was a constructive cultural force just about everywhere. You just can't go wrong with diffusion.

And, as she stoically suffered the slings and arrows of sour novelty candy, Mrs. Vespucci reflected that she was being watched, not just by 12 leery teenagers and a precocious 12-year-old, but by everybody in this decaying, poorly-insulated brick abattoir she'd called a second home for the last half century.

Every one of them...her students old and new; her colleagues; the people who signed their paychecks and eyed the calendar, trying to reconcile the seemingly impossible fact that she was still alive, still ambulatory, and still working...was watching and waiting for her to choke.

How's that for 50 years of service? How's that for a life dedicated to the leaders of tomorrow?

Well, they could watch all they liked, but they weren't going to get what they paid for.

"Mm," she nodded her head, swallowing the last lick of the candy with an audible smack of her tongue, "Got a nice kick to it."

-Mrs. Vespucci, Dick, Taj, and Gabe

Quote from Snafu Guru on October 20, 2024, 3:24 pm

Erin smiled insincerely. So she was a philosopher, too. That was nice.

She did see what Nina was getting at, though; it was why Erin was determined to stay away from relationships, for at least the time being. If she had any hopes of having a successful life well and far away from this dump, she couldn't afford to be distracted by the gawking doofuses and dipshits this school had to offer. Not when she was taking so many advanced classes; not if she wanted to go to a college that had any worth to it.

"Well," Erin held up her carton of chocolate milk in a faux toast. "I won't argue with you on that."

***

Warren paid no mind to the candy, his eyes not-so subtly following the new chick as she placed the tiny sweet on his desk. Damn, she was fine. Probably some liberal millennial, fresh outta community college. That question about the female authors reeked of social justice feminism but Warren didn't mind that. He was actually a pretty open-minded fellow; he enjoyed talking with proponents from the radical left.

Well, he enjoyed arguing with them. And by God, would he love to argue about the merits of the electoral college with this broad. Wowza!!!

Gary was less enthused, glaring at Dick from afar as he was awarded a sweet. So little Chiaotzu really was an intelligent specimen, wasn't he? Imagine that! Gary, a regular Super-Saiyan (in terms of intelligence, at least; his BMI was quite alarming for a 17 year old boy) being upstaged by Chiaotzu of all people!

Well, his day would come! Dick Cole would soon be humbled!

***

Brent smiled faintly as Dotty continued to encourage him. If he was grateful for anything right now, it was her. She'd been the one pushing him to pursue this; he trusted her immediately when she didn't burst out laughing when he told he was remotely interested in this kind of thing.

He put his arm around her shoulder as they strolled down the hall, the resolve within him slowly growing stronger and the doubts continuing to linger.

***

"It's on us?" Rufus repeated incredulously. "It's on me! It's all on me! Football! Volleyball! Basketball! Baseball! Cheerleading!" His face red as a tomato, he felt the need to say again emphatically, "Cheerleading!!! Not to mention I'm already teaching Phys Ed, Driver's Ed, Sex Ed..."

"We cut Driver's Ed, actually," Teague interjected matter-of-factly. "Had to after our school car was stolen..." He spoke tersely, eyes resting sternly on Rufus. "...on your watch."

"For the last time, I told the kid to keep the car running while I took a leak!" Rufus exclaimed defensively, on the verge of tears. "I didn't think he'd run with the car! Besides, it was a ten year-old Camry! Who steals that?!"

"I feel for you, Rufus, I do," Teague said dryly, without feeling. "But this is the reality of the situation. Trust me, I wish this wasn't the case. It's hard enough for a school to net a winning football season..."

Especially with this coach. But he stayed mum on that.

"...to add more to your plate...it sickens me." Patting Rufus on the shoulder, Teague tried to console him, "Which is why we're giving you a 10% pay increase."

Rufus's eyes lit up. "You are?" He turned to Theodora. "Is this true?"

***

"It still boggles my mind," Louis chirped up once more, sounding a bit more irate. "Is this really where the money's going? To some girl who's gonna be scared outta here by October?"

Garrett raised his eyebrows as he leaned against the counter. "What, you think this newbie's too soft?"

"They coulda shipped in an inmate from Rykers and they'd still be too soft for that lady," Louis scoffed, crossing his arms. "I'm tellin' ya, it's not gonna work."

"Oh, ye of little faith," Salmon said in a sing-song voice. "I think you underestimate this new generation. And as much as we fear Brutus, let us speak frankly: even the most fearsome prizefighters eventually find themselves over the hill. I'm telling you, this might be the year!"

-Erin, Warren, Gary, Brent, Rufus, Teague, Louis, Garrett, and Salmon

Quote from ThePlotMurderer on October 20, 2024, 5:42 pm

Lunch

***

Nina smiled brightly, "That's right," she said, quite satisfied, "You won't."

Stephanie and Giselle exchanged yet another look. What a pair they made: Ebony and Ivory Satler and Waldorf. You had to at least give Erin credit for trying to get under her skin.

She looked over to Tyler at his table, surrounded by his chucklehead bros, and imagined physically having him wrapped around her finger, like one of those forget-me-not ribbons from kids' stories.

In her mind, his back snapped as she fixed the knot.

She laughed softly at the image.

***

"What're you writing?"

Christine looked up at her stepbrother and shrugged, not lifting her pen from the page, "Nothing much."

Michael grimaced noncommittally at this, deciding that'd been quite enough, olive-branch wise. When Chris got into her moods, there wasn't anything mere mortals could do to get her out of it. Better to just steer clear.

Which, frankly, had been the plan all last year. Screw him for trying to build a bridge or whatever.

He looked to his left, where one of the new guys, Shane, was sitting his tray down, "Hey?"

"Hey, man."

"Mike, right?"

"Michael," he corrected, "But, uh...Mike's fine."

Shane nodded curtly, "Mind if I tag a friend?"

"Making friends, already?"

"I must be better at this than I thought," he waved over the other guy...the blond pretty boy, "This is Jude."

"Hey, man," Michael casually slapped the new guy's hand, "Michael. Or Mike. Doesn't matter."

Jude nodded like this made sense, sitting down across from Shane. On Michael's other side, Christine kept writing in her journal. Michael caught Shane watching and remembered him eyeing her in homeroom too.

Michael kind of wanted to tell him he was wasting his time, but he didn't want to be a dick. Anyway, Christine wasn't looking up, so Shane ought to get the hint regardless of anything he said.

***

The Office

***

Theodora supposed she had to be quite relieved at the force of Rufus's blustery oratory since it quite neatly masked her stupefied "What?" in the wake of Teague's spontaneous declaration.

A 10% raise? What manner of madness was this? If they could afford a 10% raise, they'd still have a volleyball coach, never mind colored ink in the printers and a vending machine that accepted paper bills.

Of course, as principal, Teague could technically set payroll whenever he liked. He just never had, once, in 15 years.

And what was she to do now? She couldn't say he wasn't going to get a raise. It would be undermining the principal and worse, would probably kill Rufus where he stood. Which would be very unpleasant for a variety of reasons, especially if he happened to have anybody who cared enough about him to sue.

"Yes," said Theodora finally, "Yes, of course. What kind of people do you think we are?" she cleared her throat, "And, anyway, it's not nearly as dire as all that. While you will have to helm the volleyball team...at least for now..." she didn't clarify it was highly unlikely they were going to find a new coach in any real time, and certainly not before the season began tomorrow, "But of course you won't be coaching cheerleading. That would be thoroughly irresponsible."

And impossible, since cheerleading practices tended to overlap with football, and rescheduling it would only plop it right in the way of a dozen other extracurriculars.

"We've found an interim coach for the cheer squad, never you fear," she assured him, "As a matter of fact, I had wanted here at this meeting, so..."

"Here I am!" the chartreuse and turquoise figure of Gracie Greene materialized in the doorway, smiling genially, "Sorry I'm late. You wouldn't believe the mess the little suckers made of the art room."

"Ms. Greene has gainfully volunteered her services to the cheerleading squad."

"I teach Pilates on the weekends," she said gamesomely, "I'm very flexible."

-Nina, Giselle, Stephanie, Michael, Christine, Shane, Jude, Theodora, and Gracie

Quote from Snafu Guru on October 27, 2024, 4:23 pm

Rufus gawked at the arrival of the chipper art teacher, right on cue to trigger yet another heart attack. "B-b-b-but..." He struggled to communicate, very much short of breath. "Is she qualified?"

Teague repressed the snide urge to comment, "Are you?" and instead replied, "Enough to put a cheer squad out there. You should be relieved. One less hat for you to wear."

"Yeah..." The many-hatted coach breathlessly repeated, the sweat gleaming on his bald scalp, almost blindingly so. "So, uh, Miss Greene, erm..." Not sure what to say, Rufus merely saluted her with a half-hearted, "Good luck" before shuffling out of the room, somewhat content with the pay raise he had been gifted.

"There," Teague said matter-of-factly to Theodora. "Crisis averted." He paused, realizing Gracie was still there, but shrugged it off, figuring what the harm was in having her hear the obvious. "Thank you again for your willingness to take on this job. I understand you already have a good deal on your plate; we appreciate you helping out. I'm sure Coach Rufus will as well, once he calms down."

-Rufus and Teague

Quote from ThePlotMurderer on October 27, 2024, 5:01 pm

"Oh, I can handle him," Gracie waved a hand dismissively, "Really, I just know we're going to have lots of fun, the girls and I. And just like I tell the kids in art, that's really the most important thing."

"So it has been said," said Theodora dryly.

They stood there awkwardly for a short stretch of time, Gracie curling a lock of hair around her finger, coral lips parted in a warm, vacant smile.

Theodora, a cynic by training, had to assume the art teacher was simply glad for another stipend to make up for the humanities department's diminishing returns. Then again, she did look very chipper.

Very, very chipper.

"Thank you," Theodora said eventually, for lack of anything else to say.

"Oh, thank you," Gracie twiddled her fingers again, costume jewelry clanking all the while, "See you at practice?"

"I'm afraid I left my sweatpants at home."

"Ha!" Gracie laughed, turning on her heel and starting off, "Oh, that's funny. Sweatpants..." she paused, "Should I have sweatpants?"

"Perhaps next time."

"Noted!" Gracie snapped her fingers and was gone.

Theodora waited for the jingle-jangle of her bangles to recede from sight before turning back to Teague, "10% raise, eh? So are we going without water or heat for the winter?"

-Theodora and Gracie

Quote from Snafu Guru on October 27, 2024, 5:07 pm

"Would you rather we be without an athletic program?" Teague replied in a level voice. "I did what was needed. Besides, we've survived worse expenses. This one won't kill us. At least, I reckon it won't." He shot Theodora a glance, only realizing now that she might be feeling slighted with his sudden burst of improvisation. "Is this an issue?"

Quote from ThePlotMurderer on October 27, 2024, 5:20 pm

"An issue," Theodora repeated, perhaps a tetch too testy, "What's another issue? We're in the issue business, you and I. We'll manage somehow, sure, we always do."

She folded her arms, "But bills come due, salaries need paying, and...as I am sure you will have noticed...enrollment has never been lower, and when the rolls come short, so does the federal funding, and when that happens, there's one of us in this room who has to answer to the auditors."

She moved around to the other side of the desk, "So it's not an issue, Edward. Not for you."

-Theodora

Quote from Snafu Guru on October 27, 2024, 5:38 pm

"What was I supposed to do, Theodora?" Teague asked tersely, hands on his hips as re-entered his office, expecting the vice principal to be in tow. "Watch him walk out on us? Because that's what he would have done. Hell, he still might do it if the pressure gets to him but at least we'll have an athletics program for just a while longer. And as incompetent as Rufus can be, he's the only man in this town willing to take on that nightmare job. Rufus is a known commodity that, at least in this instance, we'll be fortunate to have." Taking a seat at his desk, he continued to explain patiently, "We've made a lot of cuts this year, I know, but there are some things we cannot afford to lose. If we don't have the athletics program, we lose a pillar of this school and of this community. And that might just be the end of us. Add it to the list."

Quote from ThePlotMurderer on October 27, 2024, 6:02 pm

"That's the attitude," said Theodora, "We can't lose athletics! No, no, certainly not. We can trail the district in Math, English, Science, and attendance year by year, but we can't possibly lose the athletics program. That would be the last straw. That's when they bring out the guillotines."

She wasn't even arguing with him. The damnable thing was he was right. Nevermind that the Lakewood Lancers hadn't won a championship since a teenage psychopath had killed five people and really kicked the 1995 football team into high gear. That had been 20 years ago, and Theodora could do without a repeat performance.

"Word will get out," she pointed, "This place is worse than a rotary club and there's good odds Rufus is waving his golden ticket through the halls even now. Once the others hear the gym teacher...and God help me, that is what he is...is making more than them..." she shook her head, "It's going to get ugly."

-Theodora

Quote from Snafu Guru on October 27, 2024, 6:14 pm

"Hm," Teague nodded along with Theodora's reasoning, his face casting its usual stern stoicism. "Do you think the others have found out about Miss Chang yet? How do you think they're reacting to a TA taking a spot on the payroll, diverting funds from lab equipment, textbooks, teachers that used to work here?" He shook his head solemnly, asserting, "It's not going to be popular but if that was our job, we'd be in politics. Instead, we're blessed to work in public education."

Was that sarcastic? Teague wasn't sure himself. He loved this job as much as it killed him, the same way he'd been devoted to his military service, despite nearly dying in action more times than once.

Theodora was right about one thing, though: she'd be facing most of the ire for the Rufus decision. She often was for such matters, the curse of experience and an instinct for diplomacy. He couldn't in good conscience leave her out in the line of fire for a decision he improvised.

"If any of the faculty takes an issue with it, you can redirect them to me," Teague urged his most trusted colleague and friend. "I assure you, I won't be handing out any more 10% raises. Not without your blessing, anyway."

Quote from ThePlotMurderer on October 27, 2024, 6:28 pm

"Ms. Chang was a calculated risk," Theodora muttered, not bothering to sound unbothered at the jab, "And you know precisely what I mean by that."

She sighed, "I can take my lumps," and didn't bother granting that Teague could take them too, "That's hardly the point. I get blamed whenever the copier jams. It's the..." she smiled irksomely, "The principle of the thing."

-Theodora

Quote from Snafu Guru on October 27, 2024, 6:41 pm

Teague was quiet for a bit, absorbing Theodora's frustration, immediately likening it to his own. Indeed, they were on the same sinking ship and were desperately sharing the one bucket they had to get the water out.

But they'd stay afloat, by God. They would survive this. For the kids, if nothing else.

"Understood," he said with a tired exhale. "Regardless, if the 'rotary club' does make some noise, let me know. It's been a while since I had a civilized chat with Salmon; he'll surely have something to say about this. I almost feel nostalgic for our old talks." Back when they were both in the same department, when he was a teacher and life was much, much simpler.

Quote from ThePlotMurderer on October 27, 2024, 7:03 pm

Theodora smiled bitterly. The troublesome thing about Edward Teague was you just couldn't stay mad at him. He had an unflappable sort of poise that made you feel like a real heel for mincing words with him.

"Oh, don't you worry," she assured him, pausing in the doorway, "If there's trouble, you'll know about it. We've no choice."

-Theodora

Quote from ThePlotMurderer on November 15, 2024, 11:20 am

Terrance's perma-leer didn't budge a fraction in the face of Bridget's righteous indignation. Bridget, for her part, was quivering in outrage, which Brooke didn't think was a thing people actually did. She'd compare her to unset gelatin, but the baby fat situation wasn't that severe.

"...sorry," Terrance said finally, expression unchanging as he lifted his phone from the table, "I've gotta take this."

He rose fluidly, fingers already tip-tapping away to his unknown correspondent, "Stay in school, Maddox. That face won't pay the bills forever."

"And that mouth's gonna run out of steam one day!"

"It's 100% functional. You're welcome to see for yourself, but I wouldn't want to cause a scandal in an election year."

Brooke folded her arms, watching him go, "...it's a midterm election," she said finally, deflated, "Douche."

"Is he for real?"

"Mostly corn syrup, and just as bad for your skin," Brooke took his vacated seat, "Whatever. This is our table now."

Bridget didn't seem utterly thrilled with this arrangement, but sat down anyway, "How long have you known him?"

"About as long as I've been conscious, for all the good it did me. Our Dads are..." she twisted here index and middle fingers around each other to imply an unhealthy symbiotic relationship the Germans probably had a word for, "But we just don't click."

"And he seems so personable," Bridget scoffed, twisting a lock of thin blonde hair around her finger. Brooke found herself staring at it, wondering if Bridget was going to sort sucking it like she was prone to do. It was a distressing habit she had, but drawing attention to it would only make Bridge all sensitive.

"Is that why?" she asked, hair dangerously close to the Danger Zone.

"Eh?"

"Why you don't have lots of...well,"

"Well?" Brooke repeated, "Well, what?"

"You know..." Bridget's tongue was dillydalling along her lower lip, "...rich friends?"

Brooke leaned back, "What," forgetting to put the question mark there.

"It's just that..." Bridget shrugged, "You don't."

"That's not true," said Brooke, trying very hard not to look past Bridge to Nina and the Pussycats at the next table, "You have a two car garage."

"With one car."

"Well, don't be greedy..." Brooke looked at the lock of hair poised to cross the toothpick threshold.

"All this time I thought you were trying to be a woman of the people," Bridget giggled like that was high class comedy, "But it turns out rich people are such giant jerks."

"Two things can be true," Brooke pressed her hands together, "I've been making friends in all tax brackets," she cast her eyes about the cafeteria and didn't bother disguising her relief at a glimpse of silky black hair, "There's one now!"

Bridget, who clearly hadn't been expecting this to go anywhere, gawked unfortunately, hair poised half an inch from her gaping mouth, as the pretty Asian girl from homeroom approached their table, smiling bemusedly at Brooke's hearty wave.

"Uh...hi."

"If you're looking for a place to sit, look no further. This is prime real estate."

New girl looked at Brooke like she wasn't sure if she was being serious, but she nodded gratefully all the same, "Thanks."

"This is Bridget," Brooke didn't give Bridget time to wave before gesturing broadly at, "And this is Riley," she allowed a millisecond of terror that she may have gotten the name wrong before Riley's attractive, full lips parted in a grin.

"It's nice to meet you."

"Riley's new to town," Brooke supplied, "And I've committed to showing her how we do things around here."

"Where are you from?" asked Bridget.

"America, obviously," Brooke snapped snidely. Bridget turned a vivid shade of crimson, "I mean...I figured that..."

"It's okay," Riley laughed nervously, "Really..." she launched into some explanation that Brooke wanted to listen to, God's honest truth, but was distracted by the lushness of Riley's hair.

She probably didn't chew on it.

***

Terrance sauntered away from the table, artfully tuning out the soundtrack of autotuned bitching he'd come to associate with Brooke Maddox in her element.

At the moment, it was another lovely lady who commanded his attention:

"where's the fire?" he dashed out a quick reply to the more-than-likely alarmist text that had grabbed his attention.

"don't be sarcastic"

She loved her assumptions, Terrance reflected with a sardonic smirk. The trouble with her was, as far as he was concerned...she usually assumed right.

"tell me where"

He'd barely sent the reply before the tell-tale ellipses appeared: "u know where"

"and YOU know how to spell you"

But he was already on his way. A summons was a summons, after all...

...and he couldn't deny, he loved this shit.

***

Noah snorted disparagingly, triggering an alarming stabbing pain in the front center of his brain that he was immediately sorry for.

"You okay?" Audrey asked.

"Fine. Just my frail constitution doing its thing."

"I always say, what's a constitution without a little ratifying?" Colin Gable descended on their table, shadowed by his mop-headed friend, "Is this seat taken and please, God, don't say it isn't? I don't think I could take the rejection."

"What, from the likes of us, you mean?" Audrey asked evenly, figuring the reedy Colin ought to know to pick his battles by now.

"Why, from the likes of our resident Chess Grandmaster," Colin seemed to take Audrey's bare indication of toleration as an invitation to sit, which he did, "I am humbled by your presence."

"Is this guy bothering you?" Audrey turned to Noah.

"I think it says more about me than him if he is," said Noah, "He's not," he turned back to Colin, "You're not."

"Awesome. Us nerds need to stick together."

"Um, excuse me?" Audrey demanded.

"Ignore him," Dylan sat down, "I do. Most of the time."

"Ignoring me is DDog's super power. You really have to work up to it."

Dylan turned a vivid shade of red and Audrey found herself praying to her father's God that Emma would return from the vending machines any minute now.

She didn't.

***

Ethics

***

"The lovely Ms. Fan..."

Sabrina kicked the back of Lily's chair like a real classy lady. Grimsly didn't seem to notice, barreling on his designated course, "...is describing the social contract."

He proceeded to chalk this thing out, seemed to realize the 'FREE TO BELCH' had taken up most of the free space on the board, and left off with 'SOCIAL CON' in cribbed writing in the lower righthand corner.

"So, a long time ago, a lot of old guys got together and decided that, in society, we all surrender some of our rights in order to benefit from the state. Anybody can name one of those old guys?"

"Hitler!"

"No, Mr. Greco, and please don't sound so excited about the Fuhrer again."

"I wasn't!"

Colette raised her hand, "Rousseau."

"Oui, mademoiselle," he smiled pleasantly. Colette scowled in response and he pressed on, "Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Thomas Hobbes...a lot of guys we'll talk about in this class. If you somehow like what you hear, you can take Philosophy next year. If not, well, who could blame you..."

He turned back to the board, "These guys had that theory, and they called it the social contract. Now, what Lily is describing...that's a cousin of the theory. Because you will not be arrested for forgetting to return the shopping cart. Or for burping."

"Yeah!" Charlie grumbled, "Fascists."

"But you do surrender other things," Grimsly held up a finger, "Such as..." he gestured broadly to indicate he was looking for volunteers.

"Respect," Sabrina leaned forward, bust out.

"The respect of your peers, valid."

"Trust!" Rahim raised his hand.

"Okay, harsh," said Charlie.

"Well, okay, not for burping. But if you don't return library books or whatever."

"You do have to return library books," said Beth acidly, "It's not an option."

"But they won't arrest you," Rafe's came to his friend's defense, "That would be crazy if they did."

"Two good examples...I like the rule of threes, it's enough to convince people without boring them. Can we get a number three..."

Duncan raised his hand, "Dignity."

"Dignity," Grimsly repeated.

"If you can't be bothered to do the bare minimum, how are you gonna look yourself in the mirror?" he shrugged, "I'm just saying," he cast an eye on Charlie, who was glowering in his seat.

"Hm," Grimsly nodded, "Sure. Why not?"

And nodding, in approval of this little in-house symposium, he picked a copy of his book off his desk, "Okay, without further ado, if you'd all please grab your mini-mes and flip to page whichever-one-it-is-that-has-my-bio on it...if this is all too much for you, you can find a slightly less pretty version on my LinkedIn. Don't know what LinkedIn is? You will..."

***

Somewhere Only We Know

***

Getting out of school was child's play. Somebody should probably look into that.

Oh, well. Something to keep in mind for when the shooters showed up. Terrance wondered if it would be someone in his class. That would suck. He had to assume most of those guys went after people they knew even if, like, in passing.

Not that he paid much attention to that stuff. Fucking depressing.

The park was suitably empty for a school day, despite the nice weather. Terrance moved leisurely past the picturesque benches and shit-stained playground equipment, gravel crunching beneath his Vans as he walked.

He found his quarry sitting on a swing, the chains creaking dolefully as her perch swayed in tight semicircles. She lifted her head to regard him, brushing a cascade of strawberry blonde ringlets out of her eyes with one hand.

"Took you long enough."

He rolled his eyes, "Missed you too, Tracy."

-Terrance, Brooke, Bridget, Riley, Noah, Audrey, Colin, Dylan, Grimsly, Lily, Sabrina, Dom, Colette, Charlie, Rahim, Beth, Rafe, Duncan, and Tracy

Quote from ThePlotMurderer on November 16, 2024, 2:47 pm

PERIOD 8

***

French 1 with M. Armand Allard

***

Micah wasn't about to put any money on it...gambling being a symptom of a regressive personality type...but he was starting to think he'd made a friend.

Not Bernard, for all his admittedly feeble attempts. He'd cottoned himself pretty neatly to the girl with the purple braids. Which was fine, she seemed nice and also, Micah couldn't stress this enough, he had enough problems without getting himself branded as some kind of clinger-on.

He'd have to lie to his mother, though, which presented a whole host of issues, not least of which she had a doctorate in figuring out when desperate people were lying.

Anyway, Micah had made one friend today: Nikki had proven impossible to quit for eight straight periods. Micah was not an inherently suspicious person, but he'd admit at first he thought there had to be some sort of catch to this, but nothing ever came.

They'd both had seventh period free, and Nikki had spent the brunt of it talking about writing in the breathless, effervescent manner that suggested a lifelong passion, which was pretty impressive since they'd accumulated about the same amount of life and Micah wasn't passionate for much except fuzzy sweaters and his cat.

He, of course, hadn't mentioned the sweaters, but Nikki was interested in the cat.

"I love cats," she told him, "They're so sneaky, and so smart..."

"Stella spends most of her time sleeping," said Micah, "She's not sneaky about it either. My Dad uses earplugs."

Nikki laughed like this was very funny, even though it was true and a sensitive subject. She would probably have asked him more, but the bell rang and the stairway they were chatting in filled up double quick.

"What've you got next?" Nikki asked.

"Uh, French," he checked his schedule, which he'd been doing all day to the point he shouldn't need to consult it ever again.

"Ooh la la!" Nikki giggled, "I'm in Spanish. Figured it'd be easier since we're Puerto Rican..."

"So you grew up speaking it?"

"No," she smiled broadly, "Hey, catch you after school?"

"Um..." Micah stammered, "Uh, um, yeah. Yeah, sure..."

"Awesome!" she grabbed a pen from her bag with one hand, seizing Micah's hand with the other to write her number in flowy (glittery) purple script beneath his knuckles, "Catch ya later!"

With a twiddle of her fingers, she was gone, leaving Micah staring at the numbers in bare perplexity.

"Aw, nice, man..." Micah suppressed a surprised squeal as Baptiste DuPont materialized at his shoulder, "Get them digits, yeah?"

Micah blinked vacantly, "...yeah," he repeated before he could think better of it and, by the time he realized what old Bapz was implying, he'd already gone on into the room, "Wait, no! And I think that's...rude. Forget it."

***

"No Jake?" Brooke asked, sitting and crossing her legs in what was definitely going to become a very fluid and not-at-all-rehearsed looking branded gesture when she got her head around it.

"You kidding?" Will asked, "He already knows Spanish."

"He knows all the dirty words. It doesn't count," she paused, "But I guess I can't call him out..." she winked, "I'm cheating too."

"You know French?"

"Mom got a few finer points over to me between relapses," she shrugged, "Mostly dirty words. Deployed affectionately."

"Right..." Will chuckled dispassionately, looking past Brooke to a slightly darker-haired blonde, at which point his face got all stupid.

Brooke followed his gaze, sizing the girl up before slowly turning back to Will, who averted his eyes, flushing bright red, "Shut up."

She scoffed, and might have said more if the Bluetooth speakers awkwardly concealed above the American flag hadn't begun playing a big band instrumental.

The soundtrack had an immediate effect on the room, bringing all the preclass chatter to a halt. Everyone looked around in a state of stricken perplexity for a few seconds before Monsieur Grand Sombre et Beau emerged from what had to be a supply closet, carrying a wireless microphone.

"Bienvenue à tous au cours de français!" the swaggering Frenchman greeted them with a broad flourish of one arm, "That is..." in accented English that could only be described as 'silky', "Welcome to French class. Je suis votre hôte : M. Allard!"

He strolled along the aisles between desks, moving in perfect sync with the instrumental accompaniment, "Chantez! Sing out! La mer..." he hovered briefly by Brooke's desk, favoring her for half a second with a smile that she'd sincerely thought teachers had sandblasted out of them in training, "Qu'on voit danser...come, sing, sing..."

He passed the microphone under Brooke's nose...

...and over to the girl Will was checking out.

Brooke's smile curdled on her lips but, thankfully, nobody was paying her any attention to notice.

***

Spanish 1 with Mr. Garret Lamari

***

"11:00, Casanova," Colin indicated the petite figure of Nikki traipising into the room. Dylan reddened, following his gaze, "That's 9:00."

"Analog clocks are for virgins. Flag her over."

"Right, sure. That's real smooth, Colin."

"I don't see Fabio with the luscious locks hanging around her."

"Who?" Dylan pretended not to know what Colin was talking about, evidently not at all convincingly.

"You know who I'm talking about. Pretty boy who stole your thunder this morning."

"He helped me get up."

"And, in doing so, stole your chance to get it up. 'It' being the lovely Nicole."

"Nikki," Dylan amended, "I don't know if her name is Nicole."

"Find out," Colin nudged him in the side, indicated the vacant desk to his left. Dylan moistened his lips...he really resented Colin appointing himself his maturity guru. It felt, neatly enough, pretty immature. He didn't need somebody whispering his ear telling him the events of the next few days would determine the next four years of his life, which would in turn shape up the entirety of his adult life. That this may be the most critical time to keep him from going down in the history books as an aimless loser drip forever.

Still...he had a point.

Dylan lifted his hand, hoping to catch Nikki's eye and flag her over. It may even have worked. She waved at him and started over.

"Is this seat taken?" Caleb Vanderweiss's rotund shadow fell across the desk, "I need a seat closer to the front. My astigmatism."

Dylan wasn't prepared to argue with that. He transformed his wave into a palm's out gesture of invitation, "Go ahead."

"Thanks!"

Dylan muttered something noncommittal in response and turned to find Colin shaking his head like he'd just spat in the fat kid's face.

***

"What? No Patience?"

"Fresh out," Joely told Tami, setting her books down on the desk, "She's taking French. I think because her Mom's Haitian or something. Now, if it was me, that'd be good enough reason not to take it. I get enough from that lady in one language..."

"Aw," Tami frowned, "I was starting to think we'd have all our classes together."

"Well, you've still got me," Bernard chimed in from the other side, "Unless I've already expired."

Tami rolled her eyes good-naturedly as Joely interjected, "I think she was talking about brainy badass women of color."

"I'm at least one and a half of those."

"Well, I wasn't trying to make it a race thing..." said Tami, "A gender thing maybe. I'm not too proud."

"Oh, hey, what about her?" Joely indicated the bespectacled Korean girl slouching into the room.

"Wasn't she one of the chicks who got hauled into the office for throwing down this morning?" Bernard frowned.

"Even better," Joely waved, "Yo!"

Sue looked at her owlishly through thick lenses. She cleared her throat, "...you want something?"

"Ooh, that was confrontational," observed Bernard. Sue bristled, taking a step forward...

"He's just being funny," said Tami, smiling warmly, "There's a seat here if you want it."

Sue scrutinized the vacant seat briefly before nodding, muttering a noise that may have been "thanks" and sitting.

Bernard made himself a half size smaller in his seat and Joely didn't bother to hide a satisfied smirk.

***

English 10 (Group 1)

***

It had been, to be polite about it, a day. Six classes, almost completely straight through. Imani had told herself this year would be rougher than the last, with all the budget cuts, but this was something else.

Still, that was the name of the game...and it was better than being pinned behind a desk.

She had her two sophomore classes back to back today: mostly familiar faces, and most glad to see her...even the ones she knew were otherwise going to check out the second the bell rang for class to start.

"Hey, Ms. A!" Giselle Coleman waved, "Love your braids!"

"Thank you. I wish I could say I loved your summer essay, but it must've gotten lost in the mail."

"Oop," and she beat a hasty retreat to her desk.

***

"No, I'm serious," Adam insisted, "I liked and subscribed. You didn't see?"

Rita smiled coquettishly, "Well, I don't check them all. I'd be there all day if I did."

"Yeah, right, because there are so many," he sat down beside her, "But that last one you did, that was really good. The Hannah Montana song?"

"Miley Cyrus."

They both turned to Heidi, who had sat in the row behind them, "The Climb," she paused, "It was really good, Rita. I liked and sub..."

"You should comment," Rita turned back to Adam, speaking over her, "Then I'd know it was you."

"Right," Adam looked at the fire engine red Heidi out of the corner of his eye before nodding, "Yeah. Sure. I'll tell you...there, on the video. So you know."

"Awesome. Yeah, it'd really good," she beamed, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear, "For the brand."

***

Global 2 (Group 2)

***

"We're getting to the end of things now," Mrs. Vespucci informed her ward tartly as their last class began filing in.

She was tempted to ask if she was having second thoughts yet, but the redoubtable Ms. Chang was evidently made of stronger stuff. No, it would take more than a day in this crucible to break her.

A week maybe.

"To your seats, none of this dilly-dallying...no toilet humor, Amanpour, or you'll be dillying in the parking lot."

"I didn't even say anything!" Ashwin protested. Tyler clapped him on the shoulder, "She's got your number, man. Better get right with God."

"And you can curb your enthusiasm, O'Neil. I want you two sitting separate."

"Consider us divorced."

"These are the bright ones," Vespucci told Mei confidentially, "So make of that what you will."

***

"What's the deal with her?" Manny eyed Mei appraisingly, "Personal nurse?"

Aiden nudged him in the side, "Be nice."

"I'm being very nice. Was Big Butch Brutus very nice when she had me get up and list all the pharaohs backward?"

"It wasn't all the pharaohs; just the New Kingdom ones," Aiden winced, "And you were sleeping."

"That was never proven."

"Eh...I was sitting next to you."

Manny's lips curled, "Watching me sleep?"

"It was more interesting than the pyramids."

Manny kicked him playfully under the desk, big brown eyes sparkling.

***

Physics with Ms. Olivia Lucas

***

"Welcome, welcome, come right in..." Olivia greeted the kids in her best teachers' voice, which was distressingly similar, if a bit vervier than her Mom voice, "Sit anywhere you like, and don't give me a reason to reconsider that."

"'Sup, Ms. Lucas?" Xavier Rivers rapped his knuckles lightly on her desk.

"The ozone layer, last I checked..." she narrowed her eyes, "Xavier..."

"Yeah, I lost a bit of weight."

"First rule of physics," she held up a finger, "Matter cannot be 'lost', only converted into a different state."

"What, like abs?"

"I think you kids say 'TMI'."

"We don't, but noted."

She scoffed, flushing in embarrassment, "Well, congratulations."

"It's fine. I mean, I didn't do anything..."

"You did. Second rule of physics: work compels energy to change its state."

"Sweet. Like I'm an experiment or something."

"Whatever you like to get out of it," she waved him off, "Still coming to Science Club, I hope?"

His smiled slipped a notch, "Maybe. Long as it doesn't run into football practice."

She was afraid she looked more surprised at this than was at all reasonable.

***

"Give it a rest, will ya?"

Sabrina scowled, taking the seat next to Geri, "That's not an answer."

"I don't know anything," Geri leaned forward, "Capiche?"

"She moved the meeting so I couldn't go. That's a fact."

"It's the opposite of a fact. It's bullshit."

"You know that?"

Geri rolled her brilliant blue eyes and Sabrina folded her arms, "One day, you're gonna need my help, Ger."

"One day, you're gonna get over this little persecution complex you've got going on, Sab," she sank her teeth into the nickname, "I'll say a novena to get you there faster. God bless."

Sabrina pouted but knew better than to push the envelope, not with her reliable brickhouse close by, "There's my Travy!" she leaned forward, half-rising from her desk, in anticipation of her approaching other half.

***

Algebra 2 and Trigonometry with Ms. Patricia Kirby

***

Patty surveyed her latest crop of victims through caustic eyes. This was her Honors class, so there weren't even a dozen of them. That sounded very nice until you remembered the flip side of this was her other class was a complete zoo.

As they filed past her, Patty racked her brain for what factoids she already had, from experience or gossip, of these kids. The sharp-eyed girl in the headwrap would be their refugee. This would be her second year...and her first full one. Bright kid...her family was supposed to have been a big deal in Syria, before the country had started ripping itself apart. Still, English wasn't her first language...bright she may be, but she was in the dodo category for every subject that dealt in words instead of symbols.

It was a damn shame, but nothing to be done about it, she supposed. There'd be a lot more than wailing and gnashing of teeth in the faculty room if they budgeted for an English-Arabic interpreter.

***

Fatma found a seat without much trouble...there was plenty of room, after all. As she dropped her bag beside her, she noticed one of the boys hovering by her desk...the shaggy haired kid unfortunately nicknamed "Lice".

"Think twice, creep!"

Fatma whirled around to the towering figure of Gretchen Sanderson, who snapped sharply at Lysander. The boy, visibly tetched, sat somewhere else.

"Pervert," Gretchen declared, sitting and looking Fatma over, "You don't have to take things like that."

"Oh," Fatma muttered, not sure what she was supposed to not be taking, "Thank you."

Gretchen made a dismissive noise in her throat at this, taking out her notebook.

***

Afterschool for Seniors

***

"I'm not gonna lie," Van confided lightly as they hit their lockers, "I thought the whole 'senior privileges' thing was unfair, unjust, and ungly for three years but now that it's us getting to leave early..."

"It's so nice to be a privileged minority," Gabe agreed, "I have the sudden urge to get away with something."

"Your sister's a cop," said Van, miffed, "You can get away with anything anytime."

"No he can't," said Amanda, strolling up to them, flanked to either side by Jamie and Nell, "Believe me, I've spent long enough trying."

"Well, your brother's different," said Van, "And I don't mean in a disabled way, and even if I did, I mean it patriotically."

"You're a real gent, Evander," Amanda pronounced his full name with a lilt. Van shirked their lips, "So, what would you fine folks say to indulging some senioritis?"

Gabe brightened up, "Twisted Fate?"

"Put on your best undergrad face," Van grinned, "Seriously, it'll be a blast and we can all catch up and dish and..."

Get some things off our chests, but, and this may be their congenital predisposition to making things messier, but Van really didn't want to indicate they had any bombs to drop. Still, they'd put it off all summer and if they didn't say anything now, things would start getting unwieldy.

"Sounds fun," Amanda interjected, "But I'm sorry, guys. I've got a...thing."

"A thing?" Gabe cocked an eyebrow, smirking, "Is that what we're calling them now?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Seriously, 'Manda, if you have a date..."

"It is not a date," Amanda interrupted, "But I do have a..."

"You're seeing someone?" Gabe prompted.

"Not in the way you're implying."

"Sure, 'Man."

She rolled her eyes, turning back to Van, "But don't let me stop you from having fun."

***

The Library

***

"Aw, what the fuck..."

"Are we scholars or sailors, Nick?"

Nick looked down at his brother, considered saying something to that and thought better of it, turning back to the library, "Since when did they close this place up?"

"Since we lost our librarian, I'm afraid," Vice Principal Kellerman came up the hall to them, "You'll excuse me, Mr. Cole, but there's a sort of poetic irony in you finally seeking out the library now that you can't."

"Oh, it's not for him!" interrupted Dick. Kellerman looked at him, "You must be young Richard."

"That's a common misconception. It's just Dick."

"Oh dear," Kellerman said, presumably by accident, "Well, how have you been finding our school?"

"Yeah, he's doing great," began Nick as Dick exclaimed, "I've hardly amassed the words yet! My head is awash in sensation!"

"Can you just let us in?" asked Nick, "I have practice. And..." he waved his arm over Dick's head, like he was giving him a blessing or something, "...he has homework."

"And in the harsh glare of the sun, how can I ever expect to read off these glossy pages?" Dick waved his AP Biology textbook like a club, "Nevermind all the regular sights and sounds of men at sport."

"Please," Nick added for good measure.

Finally, Kellerman let out a sigh, rooting in her blazer, "You strike me as a responsible young man, Mr. Cole..."

"I endeavor to be!"

"...by unlocking this door," she retrieved the keyring and began fiddling in the lock, "You gain access to part of this school that, due to budgetary forces beyond my control, your peers are not going to see for some time."

"I understand the importance of the written word. This sanctum shall be safe with me," he clicked his heels together, like a Swiss guard at the Vatican.

"Yes," Theodora cleared her throat, feeling like she ought to say a blessing, "Well. To your studies," she held open the door.

So it was that Dick Cole crossed the threshold into the library, eyes sparkling as though he'd been admitted to the Alexandria chapter, and not just a dusty book depository for a lower-mid tier Louisiana public school.

"Thank you," said Nick awkwardly, not meeting her eyes.

"Yes, well, maybe keep this moment of charity mum for now. I wouldn't want my reputation to be sullied," she started down the hall, "Your parents must be very appreciative."

"...huh?" he blinked, "Oh. Yeah. I guess. Yeah, he's really, uh, smart and stuff..."

"I meant of you, Mr. Cole. High school is tough enough at 18, as you well know. You must be very reliable, to be trusted to look out for your brother."

"Yeah," Nick said at length, "That's me. Ol' Reliable."

Theodora's smile got a little sad and, with a final nod, she continued on her way. Folding his arms, Nick turned back to the library and, with a muttered "Fuck me," turned back inside.

Dick was already laying his books out on one of the reading tables, "I feel as though I have been given a sacred trust!"

"Yeah, that's great, look, just...stay put, okay?"

"Well, where else would I go?"

"It's just that Kellerman's a piece of work..."

"She seemed most agreeable to me!"

"...I don't need any grief."

Dick regarded Nick carefully, "Do I detect a knife's edge of resentment?"

Nick leaned back, suppressing a humorless laugh, "Don't push it, man."

"Nick, I am trying to be equimanable."

"I don't know what that means!" Nick snapped, "Okay? You know I don't."

"...I hardly know another word."

"We both know that's bullshit!"

"Nick!"

"Just...do your homework," he turned on his heel, "And stay put."

He felt his brother's wounded eyes on him as he left, and hit a locker to keep from hitting himself.

***

Lejeune Park

***

"...and I knew they were going to call my parents. And I didn't want to deal with that...with Mom, because you know how she gets. Any excuse to call me some bimbo slut and she jumps at it."

Tracy crossed and uncrossed her legs, the heel of her boot digging an X in the gravel beneath the swings, "So I ran away. Which I know is stupid and it makes everything worse, but I don't care. I just...don't need to be judged."

She cocked her head to the side, looking Terrance over, "So I called you."

-Micah, Nikki, Baptiste, Brooke, Will, M. Allard, Colin, Dylan, Caleb, Tami, Joely, Bernard, Sue, Imani, Giselle, Adam, Rita, Heidi, Mrs. Vespucci, Ash, Tyler, Manny, Aiden, Olivia, Xavier, Sabrina, Geraldina, Pat, Fatma, Lysander, Gretchen, Van, Gabe, Amanda, Nick, Dick, Theodora, and Tracy

Quote from Snafu Guru on November 19, 2024, 10:13 am

Emma wasn't expecting it.

She figured it would happen. Eventually. At some point.

But not on the first day. Not so fast.

It was a quick glance, their eyes locking from afar. For how long, she couldn't say; only that it felt like an eternity.

Time seemed to slow down, the room had grown quiet...

Or at least...mostly quiet. Save for the one melody.

"La mer..."

But it wasn't the French teacher singing it, not in her mind. No, it was Julio Iglesias's voice on her dad's vinyl player. Emma was a kid again, daydreaming on the carpet, looking up at the ceiling, trying to imagine what falling in love was like, knowing deep down it sounded like this.

"Qu’on voit danser/Le long des golfes clairs/A des reflets d’argent..."

Sometimes, it was easier to imagine herself falling in love as if she were in a Gene Kelly movie, one of the ones they used to watch as a family, back when times were easier and care-free. For a feeling so wonderful, so pure, how else could it look? Glitzed up under stage-lights, choreographed to perfection, a storybook ending that looked as wonderful as it sounded.

"La mer/Des reflets changeants/Sous la pluie..."

In these fantasies, Emma looked like an angel, sounded like an angel, moved like an angel. She was the epitome of grace, her every movement and note motivated by the incomparable ephemera that you miraculously discovered happiness in someone else. The confidence and freedom that came with the comforting relief of that same someone finding that same miracle within yourself. To think that you could mean that much to someone else was empowering beyond comprehension...

"La mer..."

But then again, such storybook endings were just that: fantasies. And Emma had ought to have outgrown those, as she found herself standing in French 1, a microphone to her lips as the teacher waited patiently for Emma to continue the song.

Realizing she had been staring the mysterious boy for who knew how long, Emma blushed, averted her gaze, and said to teacher in the little French she knew, "Non merci." She bashfully retreated to whatever free seat she could find, but not without one last side-glance to the boy who'd caught her attention to start all this.

She'd overreacted. Nothing more. She'd be over it by the end of class, she was sure of it.

***

"Hola, hola, hola..." Lamari greeted the kids dryly as he began to write his name on the chalkboard; he found it difficult to muster the enthusiasm for more chipper banter. Not after that little run-in with Liv at lunch. Maybe he should have looked for new work elsewhere, but then that might have been considered "running away" from his ex-wife.

And Lamari still had some pride left. "Welcome to Spanish 1. I'm your maestro for the year, Senor Lamari." He turned to face the class, now fully seated. "Now, as you may know, Spanish is one of the most spoken languages in the world. You can use it for your career, for travel, for flirting..." Lamari shuddered at that last point, suddenly remembering when he cracked out Spanish on the first date with Liv. "I don't care. But you will use it by the end of this year, confidently and competently. Am I clear?"

***

"Yeah, the rumor is they shipped in some college student to help her out," Erin explained the Vespucci rumors to Nina and Stephanie as they entered the classroom for Global 10. "They might finally be pushing her ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh, goddammit." She cursed as her eyes fell upon none other than her gawking lab partner from first period. "That's the guy who was hitting on me all first period," she warned her friends, already looking to get a seat strategically far away from him. "I have the worst luck..."

***

"Ay, Mrs. Lucas!" Severino glided into the classroom on his Heelies, now somewhat healed from his morning injuries. "You'll never guess what I was up to this summer."

***

She had tried another test. And then another. And then another. God only knew how many classes Nadine had skipped, tucked away in this bathroom stall with a box of pregnancy tests (every one of them so far had expired, mind you) resting unsteadily on the toilet paper dispenser, waiting and waiting and waiting...

That's most of this was: waiting for a result that took forever to show, only to find out the test was no good anymore because this school was apparently to broke to have a fully stocked, up-to-date nurse's office (why that lady quit the day before the school year began was becoming quite obvious).

There had to be one, just one pregnancy test in here who's sell-by date wasn't in the Bush administration. Nadine prayed this next one would give her the answers she sought.

-Emma, Lamari, Erin, Severino, and Nadine