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Member
Join Date: Mar 2007
Posts: 6
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I realized that the format of the blog might be deterring people from actually reading this, so I've decided to post what's been written so far.
- 001 -
Smoke billowed from the ravine in short, wispy trails, betraying the trio's presence. Relieved in the light wafts were feelings of regret, doubt, and stress accumulated throughout the days. Each were aware of the others, but all sat in a bemused silence, aside from the occasional guffaw, followed by fits of coughing and laughter. Only occasionally was conversation required.
- 002 -
- Did you guys see that news thing the other day?
- News thing? You know that lots of news happens in a day, right?
- I know, I know. Shut up, ...
- Anyways, ... the one news thing that happened the other day was?
- This woman stole a car. Right off a campus in Indiana, or somewhere.
- So?
- But she did it with her own key! She went to get her car, some kind of Camry I think, and she got home before she realized it wasn't hers.
- That's a lie. That's a bold-faced lie, and you know it.
- No, man, back in the eighties, before they had microchips and shit, there were only so many different ways to make keys, and she just happened to find a car that matched ignitions. Some weird stuff, man.
Reuben stayed quiet. They weren't technically supposed to be down here, let alone smoking what they were and it was much more interesting taking in the scenery, listening to his friends argue. They were like an old married couple. Eventually, things would get really heated and awkward silence would hang over them. The current conversation was heading into dangerous territory. In the next fifteen minutes, they'd either be out doing something stupid, or heading home.
- So what if, like, we could find a car that matched your car, and used your key, to get in?
- Why would we want to do that?
Thad shrugged.
- I dunno, just to say we did? Better than sitting here all day.
- You're the one who told us we should come here. Don't pull that shit.
The three of them had taken residence in an old drainage ravine. Even in the dead heat of summer there was water, but it was murky. It had only rained for a little while, maybe two hours, and that was more than a week ago. The constant shade and grates blocked with leaves, mud, and trash had formed small pools perfect for mosquito larvae. Large misshapen piles of broken concrete were piled to one side, uncomfortably situated by a stray poplar that had eaten away at the retaining wall. It was unnaturally serene, and though they bickered about the conditions, all three liked it.
- Yeah, but I don't want to sit here all day. Let's go get some food or something.
- Now you're just whining. "I'm bored. I'm hungry. My butt hurts."
- My butt hurts, too. Let's get out of here.
Reuben spoke and they stopped. It wasn't often when he had more than a few grunts of expressing to do. He relished in the fact that people thought he was slow. It forced them to listen when he talked, and then they understood. He wasn't slow. Stoicism just worked for him.
- 003 -
Esther realized that it was happening again. She kept telling herself that she would stop being so judgemental, and set deadlines. She could be as harsh as she wanted, as long as it ended by Monday. Then, Monday became Tuesday, Wednesday, Friday, and then next Monday. It wasn't like she said what she thought out loud, but people must have been able to see it in her eyes. She was nosy in a quiet sort of way, and when she labelled herself an observer, it didn't sound near as voyeuristic and perverted as it might have.
- Esther? You coming?
Tramp. Slut. Esther was just jealous. She wanted to be confidant. She wanted to feel sexy. It just didn't come naturally to her. Nobody had ever called her a tomboy, but she couldn't remember ever owning a doll. Even when she was little. She liked to fix things. To take them apart, see how they worked, and put them back together. Could she get them to work again? It was a challenge.
She pulled herself away from the computer screen.
- What? Am I coming where?
- To the fight! Two juniors are really going at it.
Rifling through the remainder of her e-mail, she deleted six claiming they could enlarge her penis. Fat chance. One from her mother, the usual collection of family photos and chain letter jokes. Except, her mother didn't realize that she didn't want to see pictures of her new life. She ran away, so why was she trying to come back? If she felt guilty about leaving, she shouldn't have left. The last message was from a kid she used to live next door to. Before the separation and inevitable divorce. Before she and her father moved from a nice house with a big yard to a small rental on the far west side of town. She saved it for later.
- Yeah, I'll be right there.
The chair slid across the computer lab's linoleum floors, making an awful sound, especially for a chair with wheels. They scuffed the floor leaving three black gashes. More for the janitor to do when he's not drinking on the job, Esther thought, and then instantly regretted it. Maybe there was something wrong with her. She grabbed her satchel from the floor under the desk and slung it over her shoulder, adjusted the collar of her father's old army jacket, and followed Tabitha out the door, down the hall, and out in to the courtyard, barely conscious of her friend's giddy rambling.
- 004 -
The warm breeze across the empty square of the courtyard blew stray leaves across the crowd of girls and left a heavy dose of pollen clinging to their uniforms. In a roughly circular shape, nearly the entirety of St. Jordan's Academy was amassed around two girls. Nora was the opposite of the average high school cheerleader. She had a slight build, black cropped hair, and muddy green eyes. There were small pimples on her chin around the corners of her mouth and she wore motorcycle boots everyday, though never received a dress code violation. Currently sporting a swelling nose, bloody lip, chipped tooth, and a slight limp in her left leg, she was the most popular girl in school. The school treasurer and homecoming queen since her freshman year. The other girl was a mystery. She had long red hair, well-kept, and tied into a loose pony tail in a dark purple ribbon. If not for a blackening eye and a series of scratches on the outside of her left arm and the inside of her right she would have been quite striking. She was not exactly at her best.
Curses and names were being called back and forth. The heat in front of St. Jordan's statue grew progressively worse as the stragglers in the school made it outside and into the courtyard. Esther squeezed through several cliques before making her way to the very front. The teachers were bewildered at the occurence and could do nothing but watch, ocassionaly cheering when a good punch was thrown, or a swift kick deftly avoided. The sound of the dean clearing her throat into the bullhorn did little but serve as an unwilling announcer to the wrestling couple. When she fired a blank from a starting pistol, hurriedly procured by the gym teacher from his office across the quad, silence obliterated the surrounding buildings, echoing the faintest shuffle of skirts and murmurs as the girls searched for the sound. When the threat was determined, the jeers continued, prompting the opponent's to resume battle positions.
- 005 -
Dean Raber was tired. She had been sitting in her office drinking spiked coffee and grading papers for the religion class she had been forced to teach. The budget for St. Jordan's was comedically low, and she was proud of her ability to keep everything running smoothly, but the stress had started to get to her. There were more prominent grey hairs than last year and the crows feet around her eyes had deepened further. If not for her devotion to the job, she would have been in a hammock on Molokai sipping mojitos a long time ago. Or would she rather take up permanent residence in San Marino? It was hard to decide which of her unfulfilled dreams was the best.
The rumbling outside her office had started to grow louder and louder since she had last looked up. Before, there had been two girls arguing loudly, not an unusual sight, but now they were the nucleus of a mob. She looked in dismay at the teachers dotted amongst the students, watching passively. Raber was muttering to herself at this point, swiveled in her chair and grabbed her bullhorn from on top of one of the numerous filing cabinets lining the wall. She took note that her office was becoming more and more cluttered. Something she would deal with later. Heaving a sigh, she pulled herself away from the desk and walked lonely through the corridors and out onto the quad, lifting the megaphone to her lips.
- Attention! Attention students and faculty!
Nobody payed any attention to her. This fueled her anger until she saw the Freshman basketball coach hanging around the outside of the circle. She would demand respect, locking eyes with him until he relented and strided over to her.
- Kurt, go get the starting pistol from your office. We need it.
Guilt ran across his face as he realized he should have been at least attempting to stop the fight. Sullenly, he made his way to the basement of the gymnasium, where his office had been tucked as far away from anyone else as they could manage. Unlike Raber, he hated his job. His segregation from the rest of the campus and faculty was a sore topic. He quickly grabbed the heavy revolver and ran back to his position beside the Dean. Hoisting it above her head, she fired a report, and the congregation fell deaf.
- 006 -
Sully never truly stopped to think things over. It wasn't that he never thought about anything at all. He wasn't manic. He wasn't imbalanced. The only time he really stopped and reflected was in the bathroom. Particularly at stand-up urinals, but not the ones that went all the way to the floor, and not the basin troughs that arenas and concert venues sometimes had. It was a very particular zen he was searching for.
When he found he was in the right state of mind, his thoughts strayed from the usual songs that constantly poured through his head, boring themselves deeper and deeper until he couldn't focus on anything but the offending lyrics. Now was one of those times, and he was enjoying the sun beaming through the frosted glass windows. Most public bathrooms were tucked into corners or basements or the back of storage rooms. The natural light that overpowered the sickly fluorescent bulbs made him chuckle. Light therapy was supposed to be good for you. Maybe he was part plant.
The door creaked open, and a bulky guy, walked in. Sully got nervous. He wasn't a urinary performer, and out of the seven stalls that lined the cracked porcelain wall, the invader chose to stand right next to him. Why? Was there no sense of decorum left in the world? He realized he was being neurotic, but his neuroses often got the better of him in what he saw as uncomfortable situations. The droplets of sweat beginning to form around his hairline and under his arms began to streak down his face and the underside of his arms causing him to shiver, soliciting a look from the bathroom Atilla. It wasn't until a couple seconds later that he realized he was being spoken to.
- What's goin' on?
Sully stared straight ahead. Didn't this guy know the etiquette? The man law? Talking in public bathrooms was prohibited, only broken by the truly clueless. He managed to make a guttural reply before awkwardly zipping up and leaving as quickly as he could. What's goin' on? he thought. I'm peeing. I'm peeing and you're supposed to be quiet. No talky. Sully searched for his friends standing in line for tickets, before noticing Thad's jacket. The same jacket he'd worn every day, rain or shine, for about three years. He made a beeline for them and fell into step beside Reuben. Being among friends calmed him down and forced the scenario out of his mind, replaced by the comfortable familiarity of a well-practiced routine.
Last edited by Fenryr : 03-27-2007 at 12:26 AM.
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