Grade Eleven Blues...*

[Cactus]

Advanced placement English had never seemed like such a burden until now. As Andrew Ponikarovsky sat in his chair, tapping his pencil on his desk and essentially watching the clock, the expression of boredom on his face was so obvious that a blind man would likely be able to tell. Andrew, of course, knew that in the end, it was really his own damned fault.

Sitting in his grade eleven homeroom was undoubtedly the bane of his entire day, mainly due to the fact that he'd taken it all before. The difference between Canadian and American English courses was small, and since Andrew had taken Grade 10 AP English the year prior in Canada, he was essentially doing exactly the same thing all over again. Reflexively, he yawned. His eyes were beginning to droop, and he knew that falling asleep was immenant, especially because the teacher loved going at her own, obnoxiously slow pace.

Frankly, I don't even know why I even came to school today...it's such a lazy Friday, anyway.

Putting his elbow on the desk, Andrew rested his face against the palm of his hand. There was still quite a bit of time left in this particular period of the day. Oddly enough, at least, to him, the room was relatively empty, as opposed to how it usually was, and as such, most of the people in the room weren't people that he got to know all that well.

Amato's supposed to be in this class, too, but they fucked up and put him in a grade ten...and of course, he never did anything about it...why am I not surprised?

Andrew sighed to himself. At least having his friend with him in the class would likely have made things a little more interesting. He'd finished the assignment given at the beginning of the period in mere minutes, and now glanced around at the other students in the room. It seemed that most everyone else was working furiously on their pages, save for one other student. Raising his eyebrow, he looked over at the girl with interest, as she seemed to be reading some textbook of some sort.  

Mm, an academic type. Yawn.

Across the room, Sarah Dao was indeed reading from her science textbook, hoping to catch up with the work that she hadn't done the previous night. Sarah, of course, was feeling the pressure. Due to the teachers' strike, school had been pushed into the summer months, and there were undoubtedly things that Sarah would much rather be doing than trying to skim all of the information out of a textbook. In fact, she'd much rather be playing video games, or reading a comic book, just relaxing in her room, away from the pressures that school delivered upon her. It didn't help that her parents were the masters of pressure, and tried to dissuade her from a career in the arts at every turn. They had (successfully enough, she thought) tried to steer her in the way of the business world, so that she would make money and eventually become a 'model Asian citizen', a female minority with power. She sighed. In her eyes, business wasn't a means to power, nor was it a means to get rich quickly.

Sure, the money is great, and if they want to throw it at me, I won't stop them, but mom and dad just don't get it...I want to go into business so that I can start my own. Be my own boss! If not for stupid school...

Sarah's thoughts trailed off rather quickly. Distraction became abundant when she complained to herself about her overbearing parents, and frankly, it just seemed counterproductive to her studying. Gazing back at the science textbook, she read a few more words and then sighed softly to herself. Great, now I've gone and done it. Rolling her eyes at herself, she packed the thick textbook away and removed her sketchbook from her knapsack. That, of course, was her other talent - art. Sarah drew and sketched all of the time, and while her parents didn't exactly approve, always frightened that she'd deviate from their chosen career path, she knew that no matter what, she'd always do it. Drawing was something that she enjoyed immensely, and had some serious talent with it. Of course, like any artist, she always strived to improve herself, and from what she knew, the only way to do that was to practice. Flipping to the latest page, she began to work on a picture that she'd been sketching for quite awhile now. The image represented her view of how the world's politics had been going lately. With the SOTF terrorist attack, coupled with the instant military presence in secondary schools, it had been a frightening time for everyone, nobody knowing what would happen next. It was this turmoil that Sarah intended to capture, and hopefully she'd look back on it and extract a feeling out of it. As she put pencil to paper and began to sketch the stock of a gun that she'd drawn a teenager holding, she heard a rough, grumbly voice call out to her, and she involuntarily shuddered.

"What'cha drawing, Sarah? Porn?"

Rupert Stockton was quite possibly, in the eyes of many, the most unpleasant human being who walked the halls of Hobbsborough High School. Along with being a smelly, disgusting blob of a student who took up quite a bit of space in the hallways of the school, he was also a cruel, vindictive, and prejudicial asshole who would never stop to relentlessly torment anyone. When Sarah heard his distinctive voice poise a question to her, which seemed to have an underlying sarcastic undertone, she exhaled sharply and turned her head to look at the boy, sitting two desks over from her. Sitting, of course, was probably not the best word to describe it. Rupert hardly fit on the smaller chairs that the school had assigned the students, and the small chair looked as though it would buckle at any moment. Of course, it had looked like that throughout the entire year, but Sarah had just been waiting for the inevitable day where it would happen. But it just never seemed to. Hoping to get through this without an encounter, Sarah replied to him, rather quietly. Her shyness was always evident when she met someone or talked to someone she didn't know, and that definitely applied to Rupert Stockton. Of course, she knew she'd rather not know him, not even at all.

"I'm drawing a picture, Rupert."

"Yeah, I saw that, dumbass. Is it porn?"

Sarah frowned a little. "No, it's not porn."

"Well, what is it, then?" Still, he persisted.

"It's just a personal picture, Rupert. That's all." Sarah turned away from him and kept on sketching. Of course, this didn't sit well with Rupert, who continued on.

"Well the hell with that, lemme see it."

Sarah shook her head. "No, it's private."

"Hah, I bet it IS porn. Who're you drawing naked, Sarah? Is it the teacher? Kyle from third period gym? Mr. Jackson?"

Sarah's face turned red as people began to look at her with an expression of interest. Rupert, of course, kept on going until a voice finally interrupted him, near to where the back of the class was. Sarah was silently thankful to whomever it was - conflict was NOT something that she enjoyed.

"C'mon, Rupert. Knock it off, nobody's interested in hearing it today."

Andrew Ponikarovsky still souned as bored as he probably looked, but he too had taken an interest in the exchange between the two students. Once Sarah had put her textbook down, Andrew had to admit that he, too, was interested in what she was drawing, but had glanced a few times, and not seeing anything, had started looking out the window instead, occasionally glancing at the clock. Rupert's pestering had drawn him back to Sarah and her sketchbook, of course. Rupert, who had been a little surprised to hear someone else butting in, looked directly at Andrew with a look of disdain. He looked Andrew up and down, and seemed to see something that caused him to narrow his eyes.

"Butt out, Canadian, this isn't any of your business."

Andrew raised an eyebrow. "Oh wow, you called me a Canadian! I'd better go home and cry to my mother! Whatever shall I do? Not a Canadian!" The sarcasm was thick on his voice, but he dropped it quickly. "That was lame, Rupert. Stop pestering her."

"I'll do what I want, ya fucking bible-thumper. Don't try and impose your crap on me, it's a free country. I'll do what I please."

Andrew was admittedly taken aback. The bible-thumper comment hadn't been what he was expecting, it just seemed so...odd. Of course, he then realized that the cross that he wore around his neck; the very same one that his late grandparents had given him when he was younger, was visible, and of course, Rupert had likely jumped to conclusions. Andrew wasn't all that religious at all, but the cross held significance to him, and he wore it to honour his relatives. Removing his hand from his face, Andrew straightened up with a retort.

"You're joking. You think that because I wear a cross...? God, Rupert. Fridays just aren't your day, are they. What, you get...Thursdays and Saturdays with the Stockton family brain cell, right? The only bible-thumping that I'll be doing is onto your head when a bible is the closest book in reach. I'm a big fan of 'Yellow-pages-thumping' myself. Just leave her alone, Rupert."

Rupert became visibly angry at this, and it became evident that he wasn't backing down. Sarah seemed to get lost in all of this, and just watched as Rupert's attentions turned away from her.

"You're not funny, Ponkruvsky. I d-"

Andrew interjected. "It's PO-NI-KA-ROV-SKY, you dumb fuck! Shit, Rupe, come back when you can at least get my name right. My first name - that's even tougher. And-REW. Can you say that? And-REW. We're all tired of your shenanegins. We've been tired of them since day one. So just...lay off."

"I'll lay off your mother, all right."

Andrew rolled his eyes. "A mother joke? Blow me, asshole. You're not worth my time. In fact, everyone in this room is stupider for having listened to you."

Rupert scowled. "Blow you? You'd probably like it, you fag."

Andrew looked amused. "Fag? Wow, so first I'm Catholic, and now I'm gay? Man, Rupert, why haven't we talked before? You just KNOW me so well!" Andrew looked at the clock and cursed, there was still ten minutes to go. Looking at the teacher, he stuck his hand up. "Miss, if we're finished, can we just leave? I'm sick of this class already." The last part he mumbled under his breath, inaudible to most except for those closest to him. Sarah giggled, but stopped, as not to attract Rupert's attention. She'd gathered up her books and was, as well, waiting for the bell to ring.

The teacher looked at the clock, and shrugged. "Well, I don't see why n-"

Andrew interrupted her before she could finish as he stood up quickly. "Awesome. Thanks, Miss L. Rupert's skin ticks are beginning to spread, I think that I'm getting a rash." As Andrew fired off one last retort towards Rupert, he grinned to the rest of the class, who had all broken up laughing at that, grabbed his knapsack, and quickly left the room. Sarah, who realized that she, too, was done, quickly ran off behind him, leaving Rupert and the rest of the class to sit and wait for the period to end.

"Fuckin' assholes..."

((Andrew and Sarah continued in...SOME TOPIC I HAVEN'T MADE UP YET!))

[Kid*]

((Vincent continued from: Little House in the Apartments))
((Liney continued from: The Stairwell))

Vincent sat back, listening to the fight that took place before him. He knew that Rupert was a complete retard, but things had made him believe that even more. Andrew was almost a god for tolerating him that long. If it had been Vincent in his place, it probably wouldn't have ended so... "cleanly".

Vincent looked towards the front of the class, the teacher still going over papers and looking as uninterested as she always seemed.
"Whatever, I'm bored."

He stood up and gathered up his papers, first finding the one for homework and tucking it into his book bag, then taking the other stuff and shoving it under his arm. He only carried a notebook full of notes as "the other" thing. It was no surprised that he carried around that notebook. It was something of a sanity treatment for him. Everytime he felt like his brother, he would write it down. His emotions, his visions, his thoughts. It was something his psychiatrist had told him to do a while back. As he started walking to the door, he stared at Mrs. Laney once more.

"God... you need some excitement..." he mumbled slowly.
Walking out the classroom, he sighed, thinking about what he would do next. While walking away, he spotted Liney S. That kid was kind of odd. he was nice and talked like a kid, but he had an imagination too big. He looked kind of odd.
Liney looked at Vincent and grinned.

"Hey, Vince, guess what? You know how that girl died? well, this kid just got the shit pounded out of him earlier. It was bloody sweet. It was like watching a mass street brawl on broadway!"

"What?" Vincent mumbled with a certain concern.
"Hey, yeah, this kid like ran into this other guy... Paris... that one that messed with Adam? Anyways, the other kid, Oliver, messed him up. Pushed him around on the stairs, then dragged his sorry ass to the gutter or at least that's what I think he was doing."

"Whatever, you need to go home or go play video games." Vincent was always bothered by this kid just because he reminded Liney of one of his favorite video game characters.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Liney squeched with a gleeful runt smile.

"Going home... go away. You're not worth my time."

"Aw, you're just scared because one of those guys might come and beat you up. You look all gruff and screwed up. maybe you could be one of those guys that are on law and order shows... the ones that people think are the murderer, then they turn out to be like... their grandma or  something."

"You don't make any fucking sense, kid. Sort of amused me though."

"Kid? I like that nickname... like I'm your sidekick. You think I'm annoying, don't you?"

"Wow, we have a winner. want me to show you the prize?"

"Gosh, well, anyways, gotta get off before this gets to be quite a row. Bubs, Vinnie."

"See ya, kid."

((Vincent continued in: Lunch Time!))
((Liney continued in: Lunch Time!))