Survival Of The Fittest

The hallways of Bathurst High were like the school, normal. The floors were made of a smooth orangish-tan stone, which was the same for the walls and the ceiling. Red lockers lined the walls, stopping when a door or fountain popped out. It was a monday, the start of the school week. And with only ten minutes until the start of class the students were hurrying about through the halls.

One student in particular was rushing quickly down the halls as to not miss his first period english class. He was John Matthews, quite popular around the school (Or so he heard) but he didn't care for titles much. Rushing down the halls as fast as he could without hurting anyone he missed one thing. His shoes were untied.

John tripped over his own feet and flew forward, his books spilling out ahead of him as he went face first into the floor. Growling as he lifted his head and spun himself around to sit on the floor. He began to gather his books quickly, he couldn't be late for class.

"I have an english test! I can't be late!" He huffed to himself.

((Is this allowed? are we allowed to make threads in the school yet))?

In the hallways of Bathurst a young girl walked swiftly twoards her history class. That girl was Mariavel Varella. Mariavel was also looking for someone, but that could wait till later, right now she had to get to class. suddenly she heard a thump behing her. It was John Matthews, The boy she liked, and he was sprawled out on the floor, books everywere.

"I have an english test! I can't be late!" He yelled to himself, gathering his books.

Mariavel saw a notebook by her feet and picked it up. Handing it to him she said, "Um... here, you.. ah.. dropped this." lightly blushing as his hand touched hers.

Joh blinked as he looked at the girl infront of him, he smiled widely. Taking the book from her brought himself up off of the ground and help the girl up as well.

"Thanks!  I need to get going, as I'm sure you've heard I've got a test to get going to!" John said as he begn his jog back down the hall to english.

((Continued in: How Many Ways Can You Define the Word "Cow"?))

Mariavel wached as the he ran down the hall, blushing ever so slightly. Lavender would have to hear about this later. For now she had to get to History.

As she walked away she thought to herself, 'This is going to be a good day.'

((Continued in: How Many Ways Can You Define the Word "Cow"?))

"This day is gonna be total shit," Bryan mumbled under his breath as he made his way awkwardly down the hallway. He was already late for homeroom; Gussie was gonna be pissed. This was hopefully the end of a lengthy string of difficult mornings. Those days when getting out of bed seems about as appealing as getting kicked in the throat. Bryan could vaguely remember a particular occasion at Neilson's when he was given the privelage to experience what that feels like. Jay did a number on his trachea. Couldn't eat anything bigger than a grape for a week. On second thought, maybe getting up wasn't so bad. Perhaps he'd relate the two options tomorrow morning and see if that motived him to get up.

 He passed Mariavel on the way. He didn't bother to acknowledge her, but he did drop a subtle glance at her can as she walked by. She was a psychobitch, yes. But that didn't stop her from having a nice butt. She was a member of the Bloody Fists, a gang of school bullies that Bryan had joined by accident. Long story. Either way, apart from being eye candy she was just a big pain in the ass. Half the time she was an empty-headed bimbo, the other half she was the scary-ass Bride of Satan. Some chicks...

 Rounding the corner he bumped into the custodian, CJ. Middle-aged guy with squinty eyes, short curly hair, and a hooked prong where his right hand should've been. Machining accident, it was. Either way, CJ was one of the only people around Bathurst that was even worth talking to. Bryan had assisted him last year for two months as a punishment; he'd enjoyed it so much that he'd decided to volunteer for the same position this year. CJ was on his way to clean up someone else's mess as usual, but he paused for a moment to say hi.

 "Calvert."

 "CJ."

 "What's up?"

 "(grumble)"

 The custodian checked his watch and shook his head. "You're late for something, aren't you."

 "Don't worry about it, I'm not failing or anything..."

 "You will be if you keep this up. You're a smart guy, you just gotta apply yourself. Stop jerking around."

 "Uh-huh..." Bryan glanced down the hallway, not really paying attention. "I should go. Gussie might lock me out or something."

 CJ grunted in response and glanced at his watch again. "Ok, get going. See you at 3rd, Calvert."

 "Later," Bryan nodded as CJ continued his pilgrimage to the janitor's closet, probably for a jug of ammonia. That freak Rischio swiped it yesterday to see how long he could inhale without getting a nosebleed. He was another fellow Bloody Fist. There were only five or six members: Mattlock, who was the leader, Kingston, Variella, Rischio, Rose and himself. Yep, six. Not too impressive at all, compared to their 'rival' gang, the Hellbirds. Over a hundred members, they had. But that didn't matter too much to him. A hundred members just meant they didn't have very high standards.

 Bryan approached the door. Maybe Gussie'd be in a good mood, go easy on him. Maybe--oh, SHIT! There was a test today! Bryan cursed and buried his teeth in his arm. Not only had he not studied, but he actually had no clue what the test was even on. Frustrated, he took his agressions out on an adjacent locker. The clang of fist on metal echoed down the hallway, and Bryan resigned himself to the grim fate waiting behind door 131.

((Continued in: How Many Ways Do You Define the Word "Cow"?))

A new face began to wonder the halls with a paper in his hand. The Paper seemed to be crumpled up as if kept in his back pocket for a while. It had a letter and several numbers on it. It must have been his locker combo. On his shirt was the symbol of the band "Van Halen." They where an American Rock Band durring the 80's and one of Richards Personal favorites. His bass guitar was hunched over his back. It would bounce up and down as he walked in its safe, confertable case. He looked up to see his locker was just right of him and walked over to it casualy. His jeans would sweep the floor along with his sneakers as he walked. He silently opened his Locker and then his cell rang.
"PANAMA! PANAMA-A! PANAMA-OH-OH-OH-OH-AH PANAMA!"
The song was Panama by the band on his shirt. He picked it up only to sigh when it was a wrong number. It seemed because they have not set up his classes yet, he had the day off. He put his backpack in the locker (Regardless of not having any classes, he still brought a few note books.) and went off the wonder the school halls with his bass guitar hunced over his back still. As he turned his Long black hair would whip back into place on his back and shoulders.

"Another school year....sigh..." He said to himself as he began to walk up the stairs.

He saw several students talk about some kinda fight that broke out. They also seemed to have walked towards it. Some people love to watch others fight, however Richard was not one of them. He turned around and walked away in the other direction. Its his first day, why should he risk getting into a fight? He was going to check out all around the school in a different pace now. He was heading for the enterance.

((Continued in: Down the Stairs, Your Ride Awaits))