Good kid who's had a bad run
Clark only really had time to give Jason a little salute and grin of his own as a cap-off to their conversation, but as he sat down next to Winnie and drowned out whatever both she and Mrs. Morrow were saying, he couldn't help but pat himself on the back a bit. He wasn't sure how the first conversation of the school year between him and Jason was gonna go, but it had been way less awkward than he'd feared. Wasn't like they broke up on bad terms or anything, but they hadn't really talked much in the last few months so who knows what direction it could've gone. Plus, Clark could be the king of awkward when the right shit was thrown at him. But it had went really well, the whole thing felt like they were friends again. Which was the best Clark could ask for, because even if the whole dating thing hadn't worked out, he didn't want Jason out of his life completely.
And then his entire mood crashed when he got his schedule. They'd fucked it up again, signed him up for a bunch of crap classes that he was probably gonna fail if he didn't get them changed. His scowl matched his sister's, though hers was more resigned.
Winifred was not happy. She was never happy, but this school's bullshit scheduling system didn't help. She'd already taken half these classes, and they put her in the damn AP pre-calculus class (one that she actually needed) as her last slot of the day! She had specifically requested, several times mind you, that she would have that period as study hall so she could leave early to go pick up Jackson and Matt, but of course they fuck up that request.
Mental ranting sadly didn't help anyone, so she would just have to rant in person. Mrs. Holmes was an 'old friend' of hers by this point, what with all of the student council campaigns and her several PowerPoint presentations on how to fix these damn scheduling screw-ups (that were clearly ignored). She caught her brother's eye, and only had to raise an eyebrow at him before he silently confirmed: it wasn't just her.
"Hey c'mon Win," Clark jibed at her, his annoyed expression turning into the stupid smirk that always got him into some kind of trouble. He poked her piece of paper with his own, then stood up and offered her a hand. "Let's go give ol' Bag Lady what-for, eh?"
Winifred reluctantly took the offered hand, then immediately started leading the way to the office. "You know," She commented snidely over her shoulder. "If you actually spoke proper English, then maybe you wouldn't need me to proofread every one of your essays."
"Aw come on, man! That was just low!" Clark called after her, standing where he was to pout for a moment before jogging after the click of her heels.
As the bell for first period rang loud, Benji stayed sat as his homeroom began to leave. It would be a pretty easy day for him. He watched as Cullen stood up, unzipping his leather jacket, about to leave the class.
"What do you have on, man?" Benji asked through a slight smile.
"Wood Tech, mate. It's gonna be a smasher. As far as I know, we have Mr. Wooldridge. You know how he gets with prac classes." Cullen responded, making his way to the door.
"No work and all play, huh?"
"That's it! Later."
Ben sat there with his eyes closed, his feet up on the desk, and his hands nested peacefully behind his head. His mind began to wander. He imagined a land of trees, of waterfalls, of clouds that bordered the sun. There were good vibes, good looking people, and great music. Everything was peaceful, his own image of Nirvana. He felt an unwarranted smile creep onto his face. It was a delight. Of course, it hadn't helped that he had smoked a lot of weed the night before. Even he admitted that he smoked too much, and that it made him a touch disconnected from the world around him, and too well joined with the heavenly vestige that was his mind. It didn't matter to him, though. He was happy. Well, happy enough.
When he opened his eyes, the classroom had changed from empty to full. Mrs. Rafta was up at the front, divulging into the theatrics around All About Eve, a film that Benji should have gotten around to watching over his break. Should have. The classroom had a few interesting characters in it, most he had seen before and some that were new to the school. Mrs. Rafta looked straight towards Benji, as if she had just asked him something.
"Well, Ben? What do you think?" She interrogated, with a sweet but somehow menacing glare.
"Raftafarian!" Benji began, "Well... I think that Eve is one good looking lady."
There were a few giggles amongst the class as Mrs. Rafta responded, "That's not what I asked. Do you think Addison Dewitt's personality resembles that of a snake, what with his "venomous" personality?"
Benji shrugged, "Sure, dude. Yeah."
Mrs. Rafta shook her head, obviously displeased with the 'in-depth' response from Benji. "Feet down, eyes forward, Ben."
As she continued to talk about... something, Benji failed to move. Instead he got comfier and continued to drift off into his own little world. His paradise, where music reigned supreme. Where expression was all that mattered, and all that was cared about. Mrs. Rafta knew that Benji wouldn't confide in her orders, and she was right. He simply sat there, unnerving. Thinking. He was in a great place.
The bell was really a death gong.
Heaving a sigh, Jace shoved himself to his feet, his board already strapped to his backpack and his illegally obtained cigarettes hidden in his bag. Trudging back towards the school entrance, he ignored the constant vibrating that had started in his pocket the second the bell had sounded off. Knowing Cassie, she was likely babbling something about how "SKIPPING FIRST DAY IS SOCIAL SUICIDE" and "WORST. BROTHER. EVER" or something along those lines; those were, after all, the exact phrases she had taken to spewing every time they ended up in close enough grades to share a campus.
Hopefully his phone would die. Maybe I should drop it off a bridge. Just to be thorough.
The halls were flooded with students. It looked like an African safari (or even just an oceanic feeding frenzy during a sardine run) that was probably more dangerous to navigate than a one-lane highway while drunk and half-blind. With a twitch at his lips, he eventually - finally - caught sight of a long, winding trail that tumbled towards Mrs. Holmes' office.
"Of fucking course," he muttered crossly under his breath, heaving a growl as he glanced around for an alternative, hand uneasily rubbing at the back of his beanie-covered head. He found none.
With an impatient curse, he abruptly whipped his body around, fully intending to retreat from the shit-show that was the result of the school's failure at scheduling, and instead of meeting air... found a body. The impact wasn't a fun surprise.
"Fuck!" Jace flailed, a forgotten cigarette flying out from behind his ear to somersault through the air. Jerking backwards, his hands hurriedly grabbed at nothingness until they finally touched home... and sufficiently snapped the cigarette in half mid-grab. As suddenly useless tobacco fluttered around him like confetti, another muffled curse jerked itself out from between his lips. Dejected, he abandoned his efforts as the brown specks continued to rain around him, his frustrated glance falling upwards until it fell upon a somewhat familiar form.
"Oh, you," he shot out, recognizing the neighbor girl from Cassie's early effort to make school friends. Of course he'd literally run into the neighbor that his little sister had fawned over the second Cassie had realized they would be going to the same school. Even though he had practically ignored her the entire time Cassie had dragged him through the interaction, hearing his baby sis babble on about "how coooooool!" her tattoos were and "so edgyyyyy!" her look was for hours later had been more than enough.
"Phillup, right?" His eyes left hers, instead following the tip of his worn sneaker that scuffed sadly at the mismatched piles of tobacco that had come to a rest in a lopsided circle around him. "Fucking weird name for a chick. That some foreign shit?"
He really didn't want it to be some "foreign shit." If she was from some other fucking country too, then Cassie would turn into even more of a mess. "so cosmopolitan and uniqueeee!"
God of Dreams and HBIC
Jason yawned as he entered Mrs. Holmes' room, appraising it half-heartedly as another trickle of students headed inside with him, most of them taking a seat in the row of waiting chairs there. While most of the student body were told to make schedule changes in the Library, most seniors knew that Mrs. Holmes was the person you really had to talk to get things done in a timely manner. She was in charge of most of the student's schedules, assigning students to classes she thought they needed, even though she was rarely right.
Her room appeared mostly unchanged. Same white walls, same furniture, and even the same layout even though she had a different office than the year before. Despite being the choir teacher she had nothing that made the room seem particularly interesting. No posters, no pictures, not even a plant. She did have instruments, but Mrs. Holmes’ room matched her personality quite well, because like it she was boring and uninspired.
He nodded to Phillipa as she walked out of the Mrs. Holmes' office, the girl announcing his arrival to the her. Jason had met Phillipa Quinn way back when they first started school together and was actually quite fond of her. She was more interesting to him that most of the girls he knew, and she had a brazen, “no nonsense” attitude. Her rebelliousness made the year seem fuller and much more refreshing.
However, Phillipa was in the none of the classes Jason had the following year. Honestly, they even though they had class together, they held a different group of friends and held mostly different interests, and Jason realized that even though he had been with her for the better part of year, he didn’t actually know her very well. They still greeted each other and wished each other the best, but it’s what anyone would wish for anyone else and they were mostly indifferent to each other.
Jason gave Phillipa a nod as she left, feeling the same way, heading into Mrs. Holmes office after she called him in. They talked for the next half hour, having Mrs. Holmes talk to other teachers through g-chat, proving to her that he had taken all the classes she had scheduled him for and passed with at least a B. He finally got her to change his schedule but unfortunately failed to shorten his schedule to five classes, ending with seven, his lunch time after fourth period.
- AP English and Writing
- AP Pre-Calculus
- AP Language Arts (Spanish)
- Theatre Ensemble
Most the classes were quite regular, Jason having already completed the required credits for Science and History, but the Yearbook class and the art classes at the end of the day surprised Mrs. Holmes. Jason only took them because he wanted to be more well-rounded and despite being the stereotypical jock, like Phillipa described him, he actually did like singing and acting. He’d have to audition to stay in the choir and theatre, but he’d be able to actually schedule those later that day.
He left Mrs. Holmes office and headed into AP English and Writing while there were just a few minutes left in class. Mr. Wilson, the senior English teacher glanced over at Jason and handed him the syllabus for the year, not needing an explanation to why he was late. Jason slid into a seat near the rear and smiled as he saw that the first book they were going to read was The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde. It was one of his favorites, which meant he could coast for the first six weeks. It was perfect, considering how full Jason's year had gotten since that morning.
Last edited by Morpheus; 12-20-2016 at 10:56 PM.
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She was going to be late - again. Skimming through her timetable, she quickly crammed it into her bag before almost sprinting to art class. She was late for the morning cheer meeting so Angel wanted to give her a quick rundown right after homeroom.
3 World History
6 Phys. Ed.
7 Public Speaking
After School - Cheerleading Practice
She wasn't too late. Daisy was a good runner and was also quite good at dodging people. She arrived at the room, and stopped to take a quick breath, brushing a few loose strands of hair that had decided to escape from her red-ribboned updo. Luckily, Daisy didn't care too much about which classes she was given, and was usually pretty easygoing. She definitely was never a top grade student (in fact she wasn't really sure who were the top students), but that left her a lot of time to focus on her passion. Ever since she was four years old, she was waving pom-poms around and jumping on any surface possible. Her mother, a small-town beauty queen who kept every tiny little memorabilia, would encourage Daisy to play up a miniature cheerleader, grooming and grooming and grooming to the point where her father comforted himself with the fact that at least his wife was not a beauty pageant mother. Simply a beautiful woman who enjoyed being a part of her daughter's activities, sports, passions, relationships, romantic relationships... who Daisy should date, who Daisy shouldn't date, so on and so forth. But that was typical, wasn't it?
Entering the classroom, Daisy was relieved to see everyone already at an easel, the soft-spoken and free-spirited Ms. Garcia walking around slowly, urging each student to create a cube so lifelike that it bordered on emotion. Finding an empty easel, Daisy snuck around and quietly set her purse on the seat behind her, peeking over at her neighbour's work. The teacher didn't see her - maybe she could just get her name marked off the roll later. She'd had Ms. Garcia before and she knew there was a chance that she might not even have marked attendance in the first place.
The only problem now was that Daisy had no idea how to draw a cube.
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Bryce's 1st period was supposed to be Biology with Mr. Patterson but the teacher was not at the school today due to some emergency he had. Instead he was at the library for an impromptu study hall. Of course, like anyone Bryce wasn't using it for that purpose. After all, he was in a room full of computers, tables, chairs and rows and rows of books. For a full hour. It might have been called a study hall but in reality it was the gods of schoolwork taking pity on him and giving him a taste of heaven.
Bryce shouldered his bookbag as he looked through the fiction section. There was the usual parade of young adult novels that had gotten clearance by the school board a few shelves devoted to science fiction and that's where he stopped. There were a few novels from Star Trek and he curled his lip in mock disgust. A chance look towards the top shelf and that was where he saw the creme de la creme. Star Wars. A single Star Wars book from author Drew Karpyshyn - Darth Bane - Path of Destruction The novel that told the story of the Sith Lord responsible for the Rule of Two. "On the top shelf no less. Where it belongs."
Bryce continued his window shopping. He'd loved books from a young age and hoped he'd somehow get an hour or two in the library at some point this year. Then he could actually have the time to read something. After a while he heard the bell ring signalling the end of study hall and time to start getting ready for 2nd Period which was American History with Mr Fitch.
As Bryce left the library he saw Mr. Black, the school's drama teacher hanging flyers by the window to the library. Bryce knew Mr. Black from last year when he was in his acting class. It had been a lone refuge in a stormy sea of a school year. He hadn't been able to join the Theater Ensemble because it wasn't available to freshmen though Mr. Black had commented several times that he wanted Bryce to apply for the class the following year.
"Hello Mr. Black, did you finally get the play you wanted?" Mr. Black turned to him and smiled. "Bryce. Yes I did. Here you can see it in all it's glory."
Bryce looked at the poster and in the title image was the familiar look of broken glass, the rose, and the haunting image of the white mask. Bryce couldn't believe his eyes, he had been a fan of the musical forever but never thought he'd get the chance to actually be in a production of The Phantom of the Opera. His mouth fell open. "I...I can't believe it. This isn't a joke." He looked to Mr. Black who carried a huge smile on his face. "I can show you the confirmation letter from Andrew Lloyd Weber's company if you'd like." Bryce shook his head. "I...I'll believe you. I'm just shocked. This is my favorite of all time."
The smile continued on the older teacher's face. "And why is that, aside from the gothic tones?" "Come on, it's a story about an ugly writer who wants a girl to notice him. I relate to that on every level. It's like poetry to me." Mr Black let out a series of laughs. "If that's the case then you better get to practicing. I saw your name in my theater ensemble and I've heard you sing in Mrs Knowles' choir class. I have a role in mind for you but you better blow me away when you audition for it." Bryce looked at the poster again and then back to Mr. Black. "Done. This-" Bryce pointed at the poster "-is my story. You won't find anyone more into this than me." "Good, now you'd better get to class."
...you left me with such pretty scars....
With a sigh, Phillipa had been making her way to AP English and Writing. She knew the way off by heart since it was last year’s Math class, looking down at her phone she moved her schedule around on an app she’d downloaded, since her classes moved so much during the first three weeks she’d downloaded it for easy changes in case they happened, which she had no doubt they would.
Phillipa glanced up when it happened, coming to a halt as the guy in front of her turned and walked into her. She couldn’t help feel a little sorry for him and laugh at his misfortune as she backed away to escape the tobacco from his cigarette, it scattered around him like snowfall in winter.
Oh, you? The words caused her to raise an eyebrow in surprise, it wasn’t like the usual, a quick ‘sorry’ as the offender scuttled away with their tail between their legs. Now that she wasn’t dodging tobacco flakes she got a clearer look at him, recognizing him instantly, he brought memories of his sister into her head and her lips twitched attempted to form a smile, but not quite making it.
“It’s Phillipa, actually.” She corrected him with a slight tone of irritation, how could someone possibly stuff it up so much? “And as far as I know, it originated in Greece, though widely used in England…” She attempted to answer his question as quickly as possible, seriously late for class.
She began to step around him, having felt the conversation was over. “Say hello to your sister for me okay, Jason?”
He made a face at the use of his name - probably something involving the near formal sound of it in comparison to the usual aliases he went by - before his expression altered. His eyebrow rose (very slightly) and he did absolutely nothing to make her attempted sidestep any easier; in fact, he seemed to be perfectly content remaining in the way.
"You're in a rush," he noted. Around them, other students were falling into line as they filed towards their respective classrooms, some even breaking into an awkward and backpack-jingling jog as they realized the time. "Don't tell me the neighbor girl with all the tattoos and dark clothes is worried about being tardy."
There was one word that made her stop in her place, a small mischievous smile played on her lips. Phillipa turned exhaling sharply "Tardy? Who do you take me for, a goody two shoes like Million dollar smile Jason? How much of that smoke has gone to your head?..." She sounded almost irate for a moment, thinking quietly for a second before speaking again "I'd prefer class over the mundane person I'm speaking to currently." Pairing her seemingly playful and slightly spiteful insult with an innocent smile Cassie would probably adore.
His face soured again (likely at the revelation that he shared names with someone that possibly hit the "all-American boy" standard) before righting itself, falling back into a minuscule smirk. "Just enough smoke to see the reality of the situation," he shot back. "Sounds like you're riding the same train tracks as your million-dollar boy even though you like to tell yourself otherwise. Too bad. That makes you..." He paused, taking on an exaggerated pondering expression. "...really fucking boring."
"Wait- I'm not- we're not- ugh." She lets out a small grumble, "There is no way in hell, anyone would compare me and that goody two shoes, not Mrs. Holmes anyways." She rolled her eyes waving dismissively and walking off, just making it to her next class on time, sitting down and sighing as she got her books out.
Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus~ H.P
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Freyja finished chasing and storing her papers and books before the bell rang. She looked up and saw the last few students scurry into their classes. She groaned “First Day...new school...and I am already late!” Slinging her bag over her shoulder she took off down the hall looking for her first class. Her schedule was fairly tame this semester.
1. Homeroom/AP English and Writing
2. AP Chemistry
4. American History
5. Home Economics
She slid to a stop at her class door which was closed “How embarrassing...a grand entrance...LOOK AT ME EVERYONE, I’M NEW AND LATE.” she thought to herself. Shaking her head she realized how dorky it might look with the internal argument she just had. Taking a deep breath she opened the door and walked in. Students turned to stare at her as the teacher stopped and greeted her.
Freyja walked up and handed the schedule to the teacher who scanned over it “I’m sorry I’m late...I got a bit lost.” she muttered to the teacher who handed the schedule back and told her to take a seat. She slipped into the closest empty desk and sat there fiddling with her necklace as she tried to calm down. Her face felt as if it was on fire and the pounding in her head almost drowned out the sound of those around her. Slowly she began to settle down and she took deep breaths in and out. She glanced around and took in the faces of the students around her before pulling out the syllabus she was given and reviewing it while listening to the teacher finish announcements.
As Benji sat staring idly into the universe from his seat, he felt a slight vibration in his pocket. It was his phone, and he could guess who it was. His father. Benji's Dad was the exact opposite of him in every single way he thought possible. He was a "left-wing bigwig" at the Manhattan Bank, and was very strict on his only son. He wanted him to follow in his footsteps, to lead Manhattan Bank into a future of economic supremacy. Obviously that was never going to happen. Benji slyly unsheathed his iPhone from his pocket and looked at the message.
It read: "Be at my house by 6:30. Do not be late. I have some news for you."
Shoot, Benji thought. Why did the Devil always need him when he had already planned out his day? Unsurprisingly, his Father continued to sound like a metal rod, both in and out of person, and it didn't make Ben any more pleased with having to meet with the man who embodied corporate 'scum' and greed.
"k." He sent back.
Good kid who's had a bad run
The cause of the Cunningham's scheduling issues was absolutely ridiculous: Mrs. Holmes had switched Winifred's schedule with Clark's. Leave it to the old witch to make such a stupid mistake, she had made the same one Winifred's sophomore and Clark's freshman year. The bright side to all of this was that the mix-up was settled quickly. The not-so-bright side of it was that Winifred... almost lost her temper. Mrs. Holmes certainly did, since she threatened to give the senior her first detention on record after barely more than two minutes. You start one debate about how easily a teacher could have avoided fucking up...
The embarrassing side of it all was that Clark had to drag her out of the office before she was able to shut her mouth. She didn't give a shit what Mrs. Holmes thought of her anymore (even though she did not want to break her perfect record in her last year), but the rest of the school was a different matter.
"We both know she wasn't even doing her fucking job." She still dared to hiss at her brother, quiet enough for only him to hear.
"Yeah, but you ain't the one who's gotta keep dealing with her." Clark whispered back, more 'lightly snarky' than 'severely pissed'. "You're literally fuckin' done with her, you don't gotta come back next year. So just take a breath an' let it go."
"If you start singing Frozen-"
"Bruh, you know I only do that when Jack starts it."
A brief silence, filled only with Winifred's best and most common glare, before she attempted to take her brother's advice. Mrs. Holmes' incompetency was not something that anyone would be able to fix, and she had already spent too much energy trying. Clark clearly didn't give a shit about it, and she didn't give enough of a shit about anyone else to carry this on out of empathy. She had enough to worry about on her own. With that thought settled and her heartrate calmed back down, Winifred gave her brother a nod to confirm as such, then headed for her actual first class: AP English and Writing.
She made it there in time for any reasonable teacher at this school to know she was only late because of Mrs. Holmes, so she just took a syllabus from the teacher with a curt nod and took a seat somewhere near the front of the class. She already knew most of the school's syllabi by heart, so she spent less time examining that and more time examining her schedule.
1. AP English/Writing
2. AP Pre-Calculus
3. Music (she needed an art elective and she had taken guitar lessons in middle school, so this was the least-annoying or time-consuming option)
4. AP Psych
5. Home Ec (again, she also already knew how to cook. Extra practice never hurt, especially for a grade)
6. AP History
7. Study Hall (thank the fucking gods, she did not have time to stay in another full class)
It was exactly how she had planned it, and it was exactly what she needed. Good. Now what was the novel assigned for this class, The Picture of Dorian Gray? Not the worst choice. She'd just have to go hunt down a copy if it wasn't provided...
OK, Clark honestly had no idea how his sister still had a perfect record. Maybe it was just because he saw more of her at home than he did at school, but damn did she have the worst temper. She wasn't mean to someone 'less she had a reason to be, like with Mrs. Braindead Holmes, but even then Clark was just glad to help keep both their asses outta hot water. Once he'd made sure she was OK and seen her off to class, he headed off to his own homeroom. ...Wait crap what was it again? Hold on, the schedule'd been shoved in his pocket in a mini-panic, never really got a chance to look at it proper. Where was the damn thing... ah, gotcha!
1. Art (stupid required crap, he didn't wanna be well-rounded an' shit. But doin' something like drawing or whatever was less boring than sittin' around hearing stuff he didn't care about.)
2. AP Chemistry (he'd run outta regular chemistry to take, AP shouldn't be much harder)
4. World History
5. Home Ec (it looked kinda fun! Plus he didn't really have a ton of choices by that point)
7. AP Pre-Calculus (OK so yeah he didn't come off as a nerd, but math shit was waaaay easier than writin' essays an' crap. 'Sides, you need to know math to do science, an' you need to know science to be a doctor. Sports don't last your whole life, ya know.)
After School: Football Practice (didn't last forever, but it was hella fun while it lasted)
So yeah, time to go draw shit for an hour. Wheeeee... Maybe Jack'll wanna do all this class's homework for him this semester. Or not, neither of 'em liked cheating an' Jack was too good anyway. Ah well. Maybe some tips, then.
Clark got to class (fuckin' thankfully) on time, so he grabbed a syllabus from the teacher and plopped down in an empty seat by one'a those easel things. First days were always the best. First days an' last days. You didn't have to do too much, just chill an' get along with everyone. Clark's favorite thing. Cubes were weird af to draw, but he could just kinda wing it for now.
Last edited by TatlTails; 12-14-2016 at 11:34 AM.