Dave ST Posted January 14, 2014 Share Posted January 14, 2014 After School Special The summer had come and gone in Salem, Massachusetts; the autumn weather had already begun to set in and the summer heat was fading away. Eighty degrees had given way to seventy, but still the autumn breeze was fresh and clean, almost as if it was spring all over again. On the first day of a new school year, students, friends, rivals and faculty milled about the grounds, all waiting for that special time when the first bell would ring. Cars blared music in the parking lot as all the school buses let out their young cargo to wander. Freshman meandered about half paying attention while they studied their class schedules, dazedly wondering how to get to their first class. Sophomores, now thankful that they weren't Freshman anymore, took one of two universal paths: they either helped the froshes out, or they sat there snickering as the poor sods wandered aimlessly. It was the same every year. The bell hadn't even rung yet and the cliques from last year were already reforming: the popular guys, popular girls, jocks, preps, troublemakers, peacemakers, math nerds, science nerds, popular wannabes, goths, punks, skateboarders, band geeks, ghetto wannabes... you name it, there was a clique for it. Eric Donner was out by his old GTO where he could always be found with every other jock, tossing the pigskin around before class. The guy was the poster boy for athleticism: chiseled, handsome, attractive, and his family was pretty well off. The guy was just perfect at everything, like he was Captain Awesome's first-born or something. Mercedes Rhodes was close by; she was never far from Eric's side, since they were the most popular people in school and thus had an obligation to be seen together. When it came to Mercedes only two phrases came to mind: "Smoking hot" was the first. "Bitch" was the second. She was the typical 'most popular girl' stereotype from her rich parents to her perfect looks and amazing body (thanks to a $12k boob job for her sweet sixteen) and she seemed to have acquired her social graces by turning 'Mean Girls' into a religious experience. The girl delighted in treating others like crap out of spite; ever since her twin brother Donnie was allowed to go to school in Europe, she'd decided to make everyone's life as miserable as hers. Brigitte De La Croix laughed loudly across the street with several of her friends. She never waited on school grounds since Sheriff Farrow busted her for smoking on school grounds last year. If the school had an official 'slut' it was the cocoa skinned beauty, and she wore the mantle proudly. While no one was sure whether any of her reputation was earned, she never did anything to deny any allegation that was tossed in her direction. Larceny, promiscuity, violence... she never denied any of it. Violence was a given, nearly half the school saw her get into a fight her freshman year, and she didn't lose, not by a long shot. Brigitte was not the sort of girl who pulled hair, oh no. With clenched fists she pummeled her opponent for everyone to see until the poor girl's hands didn't have the strength to hold Brigitte's hair anymore and fell limp to the pavement. Since then, people would talk shit about Brigitte, just never to her face. The list went on... but four particular students were all that mattered today.Gabe Just another year. After already surviving two in this place it just didn't seem like it held any more surprises from him. With a smirk he scanned the crowds forming and, sure enough, he could pinpoint the same people hanging out with the same crowds they did last year. Gabe was part of the 'nerd' crowd, and he always had been, but thankfully his years of high school had been kind to him and most of the bullies left him alone. Most. Sure he had his fair share of harassment now and again, but he always reminded himself that one day those same thugs would be delivering pizza to his half-million dollar home on the east coast. Eye on the prize, right? "Gabe!" The voice came from inside the foyer of the school and within moments one of Gabe's best friends came running out to meet him. Devenne Bronikowski had been Gabe's friend since freshman year. They had similar interests... nerdy stuff. If there was such a thing as a 'hot nerd' Devenne could easily wear the crown. She was a lovely brunette who tended not to wear make-up with the exception of some eyeliner from time to time. Gabe didn't mind, she didn't need make-up to be gorgeous. She brushed her brown hair behind her ear, letting it tuck under the temple of her glasses. She was in jeans and a t-shirt with a green mushroom on it that read 'Get a Life'. "Hey, I took a peek at the student roster..." She paused for dramatic tension, before squealing, "We both got Mr. Farrow for history!" She seemed genuinely happy and it was moments like these that made Gabe wonder why she liked him so much. He was just, Gabe... there nothing particularly exciting about him aside from good grades. Sometimes he wondered if he should take the risk and ask her her out, but if she said no, things might get weird and mess up a good thing. "And we have Dr. Tigrillo for Biology, and Ms. Elliot for Art." She didn't seem too thrilled about the artistic portion of her curriculum. "So..." She suddenly seemed a loss for words. Looking up at him, Devenne grinned and he could tell she was thinking of a segue. "How's your morning been so far?"Ian Vice Principal Kane Taoka quirked his brow as he perused the contents of Ian Goldberg's school record. He inhaled and sighed heavily as his eyes scanned back and forth across the pages of one very impressively troubled past. While he read, Ian was like any other teen, not quite worried (what were they gonna do, kick him out his first day?) but still he was fidgety. His palms were sweating, mostly because this vice principal had shoulders like a line-backer and looked like he worked out regularly. That usually meant the guy was the no nonsense type who would be more of a bully than a role model. His office was decorated with several pictures of his family. Considering VP Taoka looked Asian (Japanese if Ian had to guess), it didn't surprise him to see a few pictures of him and a man who must have been his father. It didn't seem like the VP had a family of his own, since he didn't notice any pictures of a wife or children. A pair of katana were mounted on each wall on either side of his desk; one pair was black, the other white. Ian thought of Yin and Yang, although he knew it was a Chinese philosophy: the black on one side, white on the other, and there was Mr. Taoka sitting quietly in the center. Wow, that was pretty deep for Ian, at least this early in the morning. Finally, Mr. Taoka closed the thick folder and laced his fingers together, resting his hands on the 'tome' of Ian's academic history. "Very... impressive, Mr. Goldberg. My sympathies for your uncle, I'm sure you've been through a lot this summer. I'll not lie, Ian, I have no magic words to make all the problems you've had go away. I know you're dealing with a lot: your loss, a foster family, a new school with new faces. For a young man your age," Ian had to admit, he partially thankful Mr. Taoka referred to him as a 'young man', not a 'boy' or 'kid'. "A transition like this must be difficult. If you need anything please do not hesitate to come to me, especially if someone gives you any trouble." Yeah, right. Everyone knew school was like prison: snitches get stitches. "What concerns me the most, Mr. Goldberg, is that I won't get any trouble out of you." Man, this guy's glare was serious as the grave, but his tone was so cordial Ian couldn't really bring himself to feel intimidated. "I'm sure you'll do me the honor of keeping your head above water here, won't you?" Just to the left of Mr. Taoka Ian saw them: way out through the large windows in his office, across the parking lot and on other side of the fence, there they were. Two tall men wearing black suits, white shirts and black Ray Bans stared at him from over fifty yards away as if they could see him as clear as day. One of them raised his wrist and spoke into his cufflink. "Mr. Goldberg?"Moonbaby Salem wasn't so bad. It had history, and Nadya could respect that. It could be worse... she could have ended up in New Jersey. The first bell of the year hadn't even rung yet and she'd already sold seven mix CDs, four Riot Points Cards she'd pickpocketed from guys coming out of GameStop, several packs of smokes and a Twix bar (long story). Lunch was covered and she'd have a bit left over for something later. Everything was going good until she rounded the corner and came face to face with her worst nightmare... Coach Fingers. Victor Fingers, coach and head of the physical education department (which was PC-speak for 'Gym Teacher') stood in her path along the side of the school as she made her way to the entrance. Gods she hated this guy... he was like Eric Donner, all muscly and broad shouldered with his military crew cut and Dolph Lungren scowl. She expected him to lean in and mumble 'I must break you.' At least that would have been borderline awesome. Instead he scowled (on top of his pre-existing scowl, like, seriously, this guy could double scowl), and grabbed her as she tried to move past him. "Not so fast, Moonbaby!" He couldn't pronounce her name last year and had been calling her Moonbaby ever since. His voice was stern and he sounded like a Drill Sergeant. "Last I checked it was against the policies of this institution for you to be opening up shop on this property! Explain yourself Backdoor Barbie, or Taoka's gonna have your ass." Nadya had enough crap just dealing with Mercedes and her bruised ego, Fingers though... man this guy either had a serious crush on her and this was his twisted way of flirting, or he was born to hate her with the passion of a thousand fiery suns. She made a mental note to hate Mercedes a little more, thanks to her half the school thought she was a slut... the other half kept spamming her socials for a 'good time'. She stood stunned for a moment, as any normal teen would in the face of this level of aggression. The 'WTF' look didn't quite clear from her face fast enough and he pounced like a lion smelling blood. "Ears not working, Jezebel? E-X-P-L-A-I-N. Sound off like you got a pair!" "Um, Mr. Fingers..." A quiet, yet lovely voice rose up from behind the enraged behemoth. The coach spun about face so fast Nadya could feel the breeze. "Um, Mr. Appleton was just looking for you. Something about how wonderful communism is, I didn't understand him. Who's Ronald Reagan?" If the coach could have turned any redder he would have passed for an apple on steroids. He stomped off like an ogre. "Commie bastard..." He mumbled. He spun around just long enough to glare at Nadya. "Fourth block, Moonbaby. Your ass is mine." Great. She knew what he'd do; extra push ups and sit ups until everything she had ached, and probably a few things she didn't even know she had. Finally though, she was was able to see her rescuer. Marie Glapion greeted her with nothing more than a prideful smile that wasn't very well hidden under her pursed lips. She had short, auburn hair almond eyes and as far Nadya knew, wasn't much of a talker. She'd always been a shy one and despite her good looks, guys tended to ignore her due to a certain 'creep factor'. "Hey," she said softly. "Sorry, didn't mean to butt in, but he's been acting like a dick all morning. Hope you don't mind..."Erika Forty five minutes. That's how long it took for Mr. Guiler, the school's new Guidance Councilor, to eat a pop tart, call about picking up his basketball tickets, send some texts and browse Carfacts about an Impala he had his eye on over the weekend. He'd taken over this year after Mr. Pinkerton had a complete nervous breakdown over the summer. Everyone knew about it, in a small town like Salem, it was hard not to know. Apparently he'd been caught firing off his shotgun in the wee hours of the morning one night screaming that his garden was infested with a giant, man eating worm. Poor Mr. Pinkerton, he'd be missed. His replacement was a man in his late twenties to early thirties with impeccable fashion sense. The suit, Erika could tell, was tailored and a bit outside the price range for a school councilor, but hey, he probably just wanted to look good for his first day. He was handsome but in that impish kind of way with a roguish grin and well groomed strawberry blonde hair. All the while Erika sat there, her new school supplies clutched tightly to her chest, wondering what exactly was taking him so long to get to the point of why he had called her in here, first thing. Finally, after all of that he leaned back in his chair, clipped off the tip of a stogie, and fired it up, filling his office with a plume of low budget tobacco funk. With a 'you've got to be kidding' look on her face Erika pointed to the "No Smoking" sign that was large as life on his own wall. He rolled his eyes and put it out gently as if to say she was seriously inconveniencing him. He asked puzzled, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. "Who're you again?" "Erika Clark." She said, slightly irritated. "I've been waiting forty five minutes." "The Hel you do that for? Damn, I'd have left after ten minutes." He reached into his desk and pulled out a folder. "Alright, says here you're a smart kid. Congratulations, daddy must be proud..." He skimmed a few more lines. "Yadda, yadda... okay grades... yadda... foster kid. Foster kid? Wow, that has to suck. So, I guess the daddy comment's probably lost on you, duly noted. How's that working out for you? You're obviously a complete mess, kid. So... you wanna talk about something? Your loneliness in this sea of strangers... no one understands your pain... what about suicide? Though about it lately? Do you, uh... own any trench coats?" Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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