Anything and Everything discussion
High School Rp!
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Rp
message 1:
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Kendra, Why is everyone's title so serious????
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Sep 19, 2010 03:12PM
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message 20:
by
amco, Weapon of choose spork; let the battle begin
(last edited Sep 19, 2010 05:18PM)
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Kendra (The Gleek) wrote: "Tally walked into the school."((What is the school name plz?))
Ramona Flowers (Kayla) wrote: ""I know... It's pretty nice." she laughed. "I've got algebra first.... Ugh. Stupid honors algebra.""((I'm in honors algebra! ^^))
Killian scuffled into the boy's locker room just as the bell screamed from the loudspeakers, the pitch undulating in streaks of blaring white. He inhaled sharply and stuffed his fingertips into his super-sensitive ears, flinching. Why was it called a bell anyway. Bells jingle. Bells chime. This bell screamed, unleashed itself in shooting spears lined with dark magenta. Bell imposter, Killian though, as he stripped down to his underwear and shuffled through his disorganized backpack for a gym uniform. Not-bell. The air was cold on his bare legs and arms.
Around him, boys chattered away, laughing and conversing as the school day began. Killian was wearing boxers. He dared not look around him at the other half-dressed boys as he pulled on his gym shorts--backwards, he realized, not particularly caring. When his shirt was on he shoved his crap in his locker. It took him three times to open the lock, between intervals of smashing it on the locker door and spewing muttered obscenities, to open the shackle and thread it through the locker ring, and snap it shut.
The locker room was quiet now. Killian took a sip of water from one of the water fountains. It was lukewarm and tasted mildly of rubber, but it was not bad, he though, just anomalous in its flavor. The not-bell wailed and Killian burned Formica to the gym, where the teacher just marked him as present: JAMES, KILLIAN A. And a neat little X in the PRESENT column.
message 28:
by
amco, Weapon of choose spork; let the battle begin
(last edited Sep 21, 2010 03:27PM)
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((Page 28: Check whether the given number is a solution of the inequalityn-2<6; 3
3-2<6
1<6 Solution))
"And now: crunches!" bellowed Ms. Leeman. Between the groans of suffering classmates recovering from their quadricep stretches and quakes, Killian flipped over onto his back and rested, with his head against the lacquered gym floor. "Up!"
Killian pulled himself up into a nearly upright position, making his fingers into a triangle above his knees.. Crunches were easy for him.
"Up!
"Up!
"Up!
"Up!
"Up!
"Up!
"Up!
"Up!
"Up!
"Up!"
The class moaned and exhaled in relief, collapsing on the floor, but Killian just lay there, comfortably. Staring up at the gray ceiling, piping snaking in forty-five-degree angles like some sort of minimalist piece. It was nice, really, even with the ceiling fluorescents biting at his eyes.
Next class, he realized, was Biology. Boring. His classmates were stupid, he thought, all just stupid. Except for one girl. Heather? Holly. She seemed potentially satisfactory. He shook his head, his messy hair splaying out across the gym floor like floss. Maybe he would sit next to Holly during Biology. He liked that idea. He was tired of sitting next to stupid people.
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After a quick games of football, a game which Killian was excellent at but hated, the boys and girls were discharged to the locker rooms. A few girls skittered past him, tittering and simpering and tapping him on the shoulder, trying to flirt. Stupid fools, he thought with disgust, as he was slipping out of his clothes in the locker room. Stupid, self-absorbed fools.Killian managed to re-clothe himself and gather his bookbag and binder, and was tramping down the hall in his baggy red sweater and skinny jeans when the not-bell shrieked from the loudspeakers. Startled, he scampered up the stairs and waded through the masses of seventh- and eighth-graders to the main building. He flipped over his ID and scanned the back of it, squinting over his glasses rim. Biology--Ms. Santos--Room 225. He glanced at the room number and saw, to his his satisfaction, that he was at the right place, and several minutes early at that. He joined the growing herd of children near the door waiting for Ms. Santos to arrive, and kept an eye out for Holly.
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((lol))
Tally sat down in one of the seats; hoping this wasn't a total waste of her time.
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((I went there for vacation once. the scenery is absolutely stunning))
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Ramona Flowers (Kayla) wrote: "((sorry!)) Holly ran into 225, and saw killian. She sat down at a table by herself, an empty space where a partner-to-be was supposed to sit."Killian, trying to be as smooth as he could, slid into his seat next to Holly. The ugly ceiling lights reflected in mesmerizing fractal shimmers on her auburn-chestnut hair. He nodded to her as he dropped his back on the floor, hoisting his binder up and sifting through old quizzes, a Spanish test, and homework for his Biology Notebook and his homework, something on how the vascular system worked.
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Ms. Santos began her Vascular System Spiel and Killian, slowly but surely, began to zone out. His mind was splayed in all emotions and directions, like a frightened cat, like a lump of Play-Doh after it's been hit by a mallet. The dull grey-brown of boredom--that was familiar. It coated his mind with irritating fuzz. Then the clear, dark cerulean of endorphins--stretching his muscles at the gym had felt so good, his body liked the exercise. The gunmetal-cornflower of gauzy thought, sure. And the tangy fuschia of attraction, that was unfamiliar. In his peripheral Holly's hair bounced as she turned her head."Mr. James?"
"Yes, ma'am," he replied, his husky voice directing attention at the short creature of teacher in front of him. Ms. Santos had on a pouty face.
"Were you listening? I asked you a question."
Was he listening? Why would he be listening when he had Sexy Hair sitting in the corner of his eye?
Right. From here he could smell the polyester in her sweater, hear the crinkled as her hand brushed her notebook paper, feel her pale yellow expectancy floating heavily above them. He sighed. What the heck.
"The main artery in your lower body is your femoral artery, on the inside of your thigh," he answered. Ms. Santos blinked, then marked him down as participating. The class breathed out a communal mental sigh, lavender relief washing out the pale egg-yellow of growing anxiety.
((Sorry about the colors thing. I may not have told you but I assign emotions colors, just ones that seem natural. It isn't some freaky mind-phenomena or nanything))
((It's sort of a reference to WBaOTTMKM))Killian looked over his glasses rim at Holly, his hand pausing in its flow of scrawly, joint letters, like a cat ready to pounce. "I'm not that smart," he told her, but in a soft voice so that Ms. Santos--who was practically yelling about the arteries of the body, now--didn't hear. "I just have near-photographic memory, so anything I read in the book sticks in here--" He tapped his head. "I take notes for the posterity, the novelty of it, and because when test day comes around you can't exactly tell Santos that your notes are in your head."
Killian nodded and almost smiled. "It's pretty readable. Most of it. On bad days my handwriting looks like something a drunken toddler drew." He suddenly realized his usage of bad days and a sharp, edgy cloud of black-brown began to blot out his thoughts.
