Survival Of The Fittest

Omar's head was down and he was busy writing out his homework, but he kept his ears open. It was one of Omar's talents- he always managed to keep up on what was going on around him. Not many people knew about it, though- after all, he was Omar Burton. He was an unknown, a shadow. No one thought much about what he did.

He heard two boys talking, and he gave them a quick glance. Harold Fisher and Charles Beckwith. Smart kids, from what he knew. 'Nerds', too, or at least that's what the school considered them. And as he heard them get to the topic of the girls, he realized that he wasn't the only one who found them annoying.

"Charles and Harold, I regret to inform you that would be just about as pointless as Harold's forays into the great world of YouTube videos." said Omar in a voice just barely loud enough for Charles and Harold to hear him, not looking up from his homework. "Perhaps if you publicly called them out on it, they'd shut up for a few moments, yes." Omar flipped over a page of his notebook, and started to work on his next assignment.

"After those few moments, once the shame passes over, they'd just go back to talking, and we'd be stuck in the same situation. Only now, they'd dislike you- two arrogant nerds, getting mad at them for just talking in the cafeteria." Omar finally looked up at the pair, and smiled. "Though if you do decide to do it, you might as well throw some biting insults in there. That always makes things funner."

Sierra sent a mischievous smile Josie's way as she watched the retreating form of Asher Kerrington. They, obviously, weren't on the best of terms with each other, but Sierra had not faltered in her diligent effort at being nice. She didn't want people to hate her, nor did she want to hate anyone (besides Cedric Pomroy- he was Satan Incarnate). You really can't win them all though, right?

"EL-OH-EL! I'd like tho get tickets to thee that, Joze!" Sierra laughed, though secretly wishing someone would actually knock a few of Cedric's teeth loose. Yeah, it was a pretty evil fantasy, but man did that little douche-bag need it!

Sierra's eyes light up when Josie mentioned 'Kill my Family with Poison Heart Candies', or Poison Hearts, as they were commonly called. She had been a die-hard fan of theirs since Josie had loaned their CD to her, followed by a concert Josie took her to for her birthday. "YETH! Poison Hearts ith amazing! Ethpethially that, uhm, one thong, y'know 'I Killed a Man In a Laundromat'." Sierra cooed, nearly wetting herself while doing so. To say she was in love with Poison Candies was an understate.

"I thtabbed him in the chetht with my ruthty knife! His blood dripped on the floor and I licked that thhit right up!" The lyrics floated from her mouth, but before she could finish the song, she heard the low chirping of the boys behind her.

Now, Sierra Manning wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, but she wasn't retarded. Did they think she and Josie couldn't hear them talking not even five feet away? She didn't understand why the boys in the cafeteria all had something against she and Josie, but it really bothered the sensitive girl. Hot liquid clouded her vision as she turned toward Josie.

"Maybe we thhould jutht go to the mall now, Joze," She weakly muttered.

"He didn't seem very happy, did he?" Josie muttered about Asher, sweeping her pony tail off her shoulder. "Oh well, now we don't have to worry about bothering anyone, right?" She seemed to be ignoring the fact that there were other boys in the cafetorium, who were visibly annoyed at their loud chatter.

When Sierra mentioned wanting to get tickets to see Josie curb-stomp Cedric, she wondered if she should really do something. That dick did trip her best friend after all! He would definitely deserve it if she decided to take matters into her own hands. Was it worth possibly getting suspended from school? Josie had never done anything that harsh before...

Then Sierra changed the subject, which caused Josie to temporarily forget about Cedric. "Oh! Oh yeah, I love that song too. I have it on my iPod, we should like totally listen to it." Josie was flickering through her songs as Sierra was singing. Sierra may not have been the best singer, but Josie enjoyed it. She even joined in by singing the next line of the song.

"I watched his body spin 'round and 'round in the washer like a fleshy pile of socks!" While singing, she pretended to play the air guitar a little.

"Ah! I found the song! Yesss sweet goodness.." As Josie pushed play, she realized that Sierra was looking at her with tears in her eyes.

"The mall...? What do you mean? Wait, what's wrong Sierra?" Josie asked, setting her iPod aside. Her icy eyes scanned the cafetorium until it locked on the boys. The boys. Those boys! ... THOSE JERKS!

Josie walked over to the boys and stared down at them. "If you have something to say, say it to our faces. What's your problem?! Even try to insult us and you'll be sorry!! You should apologize to us! We're just sitting here, talking amongst ourselves quietly, and...Ugh!" Josie was aggravated, her arms folded across her chest. She was trying to look mean and intimidating, but she wasn't really.

She turned back to look at Sierra. "It's okay, Sierra. Don't worry. If they say anything at all, I'll take care of it."

Well, this is surprising. Is every single person in this world so nosy that they can hear a muttered conversation? I suppose I'm going to have to remember how paranoid my classmates are next time.

Having a lady look directly at him would probably have been a treat for Harold in any other circumstance, but right now, he was as close to seething as he could have possibly been. Of all the things to pull, Omar had to practically announce what he had heard to the entire world. Normally, he would have just pretended the guy hadn't said anything and continued with his life to the cheerful tune of Rick Astley. But this sort of behavior was a sign that Omar needed to be taken down a peg. But before Harold could solve that problem, he had a more immediate one.

For example, how do I get this girl to stop glaring at me?

Leaning back in his seat, Harold approached the problem tactfully and with professionalism. "If you REALLY want to hear us give you an apology," he said, "then let me be the first to say that I'm sorry this gentlemen over here listened in on our private conversation and decided to stick his arrogant face into things. I'm sure it's simply a result of an inferiority complex or some other psychological disorder, and he's simply not doing it for silly reasons like being an outright jerk.

"Allow me to further apologize by stating that I'm sorry you are currently victimized with an inability to recognize your own volume. That is a common result of listening to too much loud music or simply being tone deaf. There are commercially available devices which may assist with the first, but as for the second, I'd simply resign myself to being unable to appreciate music, and take up origami instead.

"There's a moral in this, by the way. If that man over there, you, and your friend had simply let it be at our muttered conversation between friends, then we wouldn't be in this situation, and we could have let it slide with me and my friend sharing a few quiet asides. Grow thicker skin and have an actual case against me, personally, and then we'll talk about an apology next time."

Charlie looked up as a voice sounded behind them. Looking over his shoulder, he caught sight of Omar Burton sitting nearby, talking about the futility of speaking up or something. Caught off-guard at the knowledge that there was a third party in their conversation, he stumbled mentally for a moment, as he tried to think of a way to respond to the pale boy.

The sudden arrival of a certain fourth party stopped him dead in his tracks.

Charlie's heart plummeted down into his stomach as Josie's angry voice filled his ears. Slowly turning his head towards her, he stared up at her in a combination of surprise, terror, embarrassment, and guilt as she chewed the boys out. Oh fuck, he thought to himself. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck! Now we've done it! His lips began to move silently as he tried to apologize, but his voice appeared to have evacuated his body in his shock.

Before he could find his voice though, Harold spoke up. For a brief window of roughly .3 of a second, Charlie felt a small pang of relief. And then he actually tuned in to what exactly Harold was saying. His blood seemed to turn to ice in his veins as embarrassment and fear gripped him stronger than ever. His eyes darted behind him towards Omar as Harold slung acidic comments his way. Turning his head towards Harold, he opened his mouth in an attempt to shut Harold up before he said too much.

Sadly, he was too late. As Harold assaulted Josie with a vicious verbal affront, Charlie could do nothing but sit there and watch things spiral out of control. It's like watching a train-wreck...in slow-motion, he thought to himself.

Finally, Harold finished speaking. Charlie was practically on the verge of having a cardiac arrest, his heart was beating so fast. His head rapidly darted from Harold, to Josie, to Omar, back to Harold, then to Josie again, as he desperately tried to determine what to do and who to address.

Ultimately, his eyes came to rest on Josie. For a few moments, he simply gawked at her, trying to fight through the paralysis that seemed to have gripped his tongue and force out a tangible sentence.

"I...I'm sorry..." he finally managed to croak out at a barely-audible whisper.

((Tristan Mathews continued from Q/A))

Tristan came into the Cafetorium, having figured this was the next best place to play his DS. There were some people, but he paid them no mind. He had had enough time talking with others, such as Madeleine. He sat down at an empty seat, and pulled his DS out of his coat, opening it quickly.

Of course, he could barely concentrate with the argument going on nearby.

He closed the DS urgently, and took at look at the disturbance. It was an argument between Omar Burton, Charlie Beckwith, Harold Fisher, and Josie Vernon. Oh, dear. Harold was brilliant but lazy. Omar was a fellow who just couldn't make friends, despite Tristan's efforts. Poor Charlie was a good bloke, but he was on the recieving end in this argument. And Josie... She had an odd habit of going nuts sometimes. Like this time, where she's suddenly started the argument. The only other person was Sierra, who seemed to be an observer so far.

He stood up, and walked towards the group, with a neutral expression on his face. "Uh, can you guys mind telling me why you're arguing? I'm trying to play my DS over there. Not to mention my tendency to try and resolve problems... Now, what's the problem?"

Omar watched as Sierra began to get upset, and another girl came over and started yelling at them. Omar wasn't friends with any of the people there, so he had no real feelings regarding the situation. Of course, it was fun to watch the events unfold... something akin to throwing a pebble into a pond and watching the ripples.

"...and decided to stick his arrogant face into things." Oh dear, is Harold talking about me? And here I thought I hadn't even started to be a dick yet... Well, if he wants me to, I guess I'll oblige him. Omar watched as another boy came over, a kid he knew was named Tristan. He listened to Tristan's little speech, and Omar got even more pissed off.

"Your 'tendency to try and resolve problems'? Do you even know how fake you sound right now? The only time I've ever heard somebody talk about their 'tendency' was in a Viagra commercial, and they were talking about erections... or more accurately, the lack of." Omar said. "And the 'problem', at least as I see it, is the fact that you're not currently shutting the fuck up, going back to where you were sitting, and putting back on that stupid fucking DS. Honestly man, stick to video games- it's the only fucking thing you might actually be good at."

"And Josie- what Harold is basically saying, although he is using a touch of eloquence to cover it up, is that he is a fat asshole, and he doesn't care if he hurts your friends feelings." said Omar. "I guess he finds it easier to say mean things if he uses big words... Me, on the other hand? I am just, as he put it, an 'outright jerk', so I have no problem simply using blunt terms."

Omar smiled, and looked at Harold. "Oh, and by the way? No, you are still just as much of an asshole- except now you look like an asshole who thinks he's smart."

Omar looked back at Josie. "Don't blame Charlie for what happened, though- the guy is innocent. But do tell your friend I said sorry- she seems like a nice girl, and if anything I said upset her by accident, it was not my intention. I was just trying to stop Harold over there from insulting you two."

Fresh tears threatened to flow as the scene unfolded before Sierra. Her bottom lip squished between her gap in a futile attempt to stall the salty liquid. She didn't want to cry, but it was like her tear ducts had a mind of their own- and they definitely weren't stage shy. Stinking little attention whores.

Harsh words flew left and right between the students, stinging like daggers as they hit their intended victims. Pangs of guilt swept throughout Sierra as she watched her best friend yell at the boys. She was always getting Josie swept up in these fights, and it wasn't even for a good reason. Who    cried     over the smallest of things? Like, honestly. Who did that!?

She did.

It wasn't even five seconds after Josie's blow up before Harold decided to speak up, or more importantly allow his dictionary to explode all over Josie. Sierra wasn't entirely sure what the nerd-oh was saying, but she was pretty sure it probably wasn't nicest speech ever. Before Josie had a chance to rip Harold's face off, Charlie Beckwith managed to squeeze his way into the altercation. Sierra was certain his mouth was moving, but she couldn't make out what he was saying between the yelling and her own sniffling.

"Joze.. Let'th juth go," Sierra chirped, hopping down from her perch on the table and making her way over to her friend. "Pleathe."

"Uh, can you guys mind telling me why you're arguing? I'm trying to play my DS over there. Not to mention my tendency to try and resolve problems... Now, what's the problem?"

Without giving her the smallest opening to leave, Tristan Matthews catapulted his oddly-speaking self into the argument. Sierra stared in disbelief as the boy interrogated the small group, not without yelling at them for interrupting his DS session.

"Your 'tendency to try and resolve problems'? Do you even know how fake you sound right now?"

Sierra's attention was pulled toward Omar Burton, who had quite a reputation as a massive prick. She quickly buried her face in her palms, very sure the situation was going to escalate. What if there was a fight and she got hit!? She didn't want to get hurt, nor did she want to get suspended for being involved in a fist fight! Oh God, her mom would be so mad!

Sierra harshly tugged on Josie's sleeve and whispered, "Can we pleathe jutht leave now?"

"Don't blame Charlie for what happened, though- the guy is innocent. But do tell your friend I said sorry- she seems like a nice girl, and if anything I said upset her by accident, it was not my intention. I was just trying to stop Harold over from insulting you two."

The small girl's attention reverted back to Omar once again, this time with a wide smile on her face. He really didn't seem that bad, but she still didn't want to stay in the cafeteria. The testosterone levels in here were off the chart.

Deciding to take matters into her own hands for once, Sierra tugged Josie by the sleeve and toward the exit.

[Sierra Manning continued elsewhere]

Erin sat there listening to her classmates, although she couldn't understand their argument at all. It seemed like all of them where just doing it for the hell of it. She kept switching her focus from them to the bag of chips of which she had just purchased. She sighed, she knew she should just ignore it.

I hate meaningless crap like this. I mean this isn't some teen drama, get over yourselves. This is why I avoid meaningless arguments with my peers.

Erin just kept smiling as she thought about this. She then stood up and picked up the bag of potato chips stuffing them into her backpack. She then turned to the exit as the other girls seemed to be leaving. Her stomach then growled again.

Damn, I have to get going.

Erin quickly rushed out the door of the cafetorium, backpack in hand.

(Continued in Giveing In to Hunger)

Josie was glaring ice shards at Harold. Her lips were pursed tightly and her eyebrows were furrowed so low that they almost appeared like they were frozen in place. After Harold finished talking, she spoke. Of course, Josie didn't really understand most of what Harold was saying. It was just too many big words for Josie to comprehend, but she decided to try arguing with him anyway. She knew she wouldn't sound anywhere near as smart but she couldn't just walk away.

"Excuse me?! I didn't understand half the crap you were spewing but it wasn't just a muttered conversation! You guys made my best friend cry and I will not stand for that! Little jerk, I hate people like you..You better watch your back," she muttered. She really had nothing quick and witty to say. Nothing cool or arrogant. Just lame, half-hearted threats or insults. All she really had was anger and the inability to reason.

If she could yell at these boys and make Sierra feel better, then so be it. She would. She continued glaring at Harold, but glanced over at Charlie as he bean to speak. It was a simple, yet very quiet, apology. She was kind of surprised to hear that instead of an arrogant response.

Blinking, she pretended to adjust her pony tail and glanced over at the soda machine, like it was the most interesting thing in the room. "O..Oh. It's okay.." Josie was really a softy. This guy didn't seem like he was too involved and making him feel bad would just make Josie feel bad.

As soon as Omar started speaking, she looked back over at the table of boys. She braced herself for another spew of arrogant lashings but was met with Omar lashing out at..Tristan, was it? The nerd with the DS thing? Whatever, names were insignificant to Josie. The only names that really mattered were Sierra and Josie. And that's it. Oh and the names of singers and bands. And the occasional hot boy.

She grinned slightly at Omar. "Ha ha! Alright..I'll tell her. Well, gotta go.." Josie was pulled along by Sierra and the two of them left the cafeteria.

"What in the hell just happened here...? There was big words...and then an apology..and then some guy yelled at the arrogant dude and said to apologize to Sierra..Ugh, my head hurts."

((Josie Vernon continued elsewhere))

Nothing like a trio of departing girls to make someone realize when he's gone too far. I really need to work on those twitch reflexes.

Obviously, Harold noticed when the ladies left in varying degrees of disgust or sadness. It wasn't hard to miss. Also notable were the actions of Charlie, who seemed to be visibly uncomfortable by what Harold had said. All in all, he had unleashed a bomb that affected about half a dozen people, just by talking. Not bad.

Of note was this new person, a fellow who Harold hadn't really talked to much. Tristan....something. Whatever his name was, the guy seemed to be butting in where he didn't belong, and most of everybody let him know that. Harold himself sat mostly still through all the verbal mudslinging, his only indication that he was being annoyed being that his eyes were steadily narrowing more and more, until it almost looked like he was asleep.

Finally, once the ladies walked out, he spoke. "Well," he said, "that's one resolution....Tristan, is it? Thank you very much for stepping in." Looking over to Omar, Harold considered continuing the debate, but found that it was cutting into his precious computer time. "As for you, unless you've got more to say, I think this conversation is over. For what it's worth, you can call this a victory for yourself." Turning back towards his computer, Harold turned up the volume on his headphones. "Really though, nice work. You wasted all that breath to defeat a fat guy with a big mouth. Betcha you'll be proud to put THAT trophy on your mantlepiece."

Charlie remained rooted to his seat, his heart still pounding from the events that had just transpired. Resting his elbow against the table, he rested his fingertips against his forehead. A long sigh escaped his lips as he stared down at the surface of the table, trying to calm himself down. It's okay, man, he thought to himself. She excused you. You don't have to feel guilty.

But of course he felt guilty anyways. Sierra was crying, and he was partially responsible for it. And if there was one thing that would lay a guilt-trip on him thick, it was upsetting other people. He wasn't quite like his friend Harold; he cared a lot about the feelings of those around him, and what people thought of him. In fact, sometimes he worried that he cared a bit too much. He didn't stand up for himself nearly as often as he felt he should, and most often just let people walk all over him like a human doormat. But as much as he hated it, Charlie was hesitant to do anything about it, afraid that it would turn him into...well, Harold.

And speaking of Harold, just as Charlie began to think that the storm had passed, his chunky friend opened his mouth again. Charlie's head shot up as a new slurry of sarcastic comments bombarded the other two boys. What the hell, man? Charlie thought as he glanced over at Harold berating the two boys. That's not cool. As Harold put back on his headphones and terminated the rather one-sided conversation, Charlie looked over at Tristan and Omar with an exasperated expression, as if to silently say "I'm sorry you had to take that."

Omar slipped his books into his bag, and as he did so he caught Sierra smiling over at him. So this is what he feels like when you're kind to other people? Perhaps I should try that more often... After all, the girl wasn't that annoying. Hell, sometimes she was even a little... a little cute.

"For what it's worth, you can call this a victory for yourself." Omar looked over, and saw Harold had chosen to just keep on talking. Didn't he know when to just shut his mouth? "Really though, nice work. You wasted all that breath to defeat a fat guy with a big mouth. Betcha you'll be proud to put THAT trophy on your mantlepiece."

Omar swung his backpack over one shoulder, and smiled. Was that really the best the kid could do? Just lay it on thick with the sarcasm? Omar briefly considered responding to Harold's comment, then noticed his headphones were on. Instead, he made his own comments to Harold's friend- Charlie, or whatever.

"When your good friend Harold decides to get out of his shell and talk to some other people, give him this message." Omar said. "Tell him I'll be glad to have that that trophy, but perhaps I'll put it on his mantelpiece instead. Tell him he can put it right next to his trophy, the one you get for making a girl cry, blaming it on someone else, and then making your friend feel like a dick."

Omar walked out, wondering where he'd go next. There was always the mall... as Omar reached the exit of the cafeteria, he stopped and gave one look back to Charlie. "Oh, I almost forget- tell Harold that Omar says he'll never be able to top him. Tell Harold not to worry, he's the King of the Assholes by far."

And with that, Omar walked out of the door. Harold may be right, though... There probably was something Omar could spend his time and energy on that was more productive than snide remarks. Only question is, could he find something funner?

((Omar Burton continued elsewhere))

Tristan's eye twitched. Omar's backlash at him was sorta uncalled for. Jeez, he was only trying to help, what was his problem? He watched as, oddly enough, the entire problem resolved itself, with the help of the other two girls. Then Harlold thanked him for stepping in, though he hadn't really done anything. Charlie just looked like as if he was apologizing for something.

But Omar, he was still here, but about to go away, and Tristan knew he was a massive prick. He wasn't just going to walk away without a word. He put his hand down onto the table, supporting himself, before staring Omar in the eyes and making his response, going straight into snark mode. "Excuse me. So I made a bad choice of words, I was trying to help, and you berate me for something entirely irrelevant? Then you tell me to go away even though I was trying to help, while also insulting me and comparing my choice of words with viagra commercials. Charming. Do you always display such pleasant manners like this?" Omar had then pretty much left.

He looked at Harold, and sighed, responding, "No problem, but I didn't really help at all, not that I needed to. I do what I can. Now, if you excuse me..." Well, it could have been worse, but it also could have gone better.

And with that, Tristan walked back to his table, sat back down, and flipped open his DS. Two attempts to help people today, and neither were particularlly successful. Oh, well.

It was funny how a simple desire to sit down and relax could go so terribly wrong. Harold had never been one for containing his thoughts, which had gotten him into trouble with people so many times before. Of course, it was rare that he met someone who seemed to purposefully fan the flames of discord that sprang up in Harold's considerable wake. Omar would have to be looked out for in the future. The fellow was much like Harold, only with a diplomat's senses, something which Harold lacked. If the two of them faced off in the future, Omar would know how to play to the crowd, and that would make him dangerous.

Of course, looking at Harold, you wouldn't think that any of those thoughts were going through his head. He had a flash game going on his laptop, which he was only paying half attention to. The other half was on this blowhard who dared to call himself better than Harold. Once he had noticed the guy talking, he had turned down the volume a tad, so he could hear what was said. It was nothing the pudgy geek didn't expect. People in this school were too sensitive, it seemed. If those ladies couldn't stand even the ramblings of a weak, pudgy man of little worldly significance, then they would have boatloads of fun the instant they met their first abusive boyfriend.

Some people seem so set on their own happiness that they don't know how to live life the hard way. They're deluding themselves, and they'll pay for it in the years to come.

After Omar left, Harold noticed that Tristan had moved over to a different table and was now playing a DS. He considered going over and talking, but the atmosphere in this room now tasted foul to the man. Having to deal with idiot females and an arrogant braggart did wonders for killing the mood of the place. "Goodbye, Charlie," Harold said, packing up his laptop and peripherals. "I'm sorry I got you into that. I don't expect you to talk to me again, and I'll be happy to not be your friend any longer. It seems like it'd be easier than expecting you to put up with my big mouth." Without another word, Harold left the cafetorium, determined not to put Charlie through any more embarrassment. It seemed the kindest thing to do.

(Harold Fisher continued elsewhere.)