Continued from yesterday:
Logan found her, still in her date gear, and still in basement five. She was adding plaster to a lumpish shape in the middle of the floor.
At least she’d put down a drop-cloth.
“You’re gonna ruin that dress, Tallwater."
"It won’t fit for very much longer, anyway,” she said, wrapping wet plaster and gauze around some rods between the clay teeth. “It’s had its second chance, now. The ghosts are at peace."
And since the only time he’d ever seen a student involved in something this intricate was to pass some kind of project, he asked, "This due in any time soon?"
Tallwater worked her way around a tooth, onto a neighbouring tooth, and around another rod. "I was rather hoping to get this done before tomorrow. I *think* I can wrangle it, even with the bedtime restrictions."
Logan sighed. _There’s always one that leaves it to the last minute…_ "Anywhere I can help?"
"You could start on the left side of the mouth,” she said. “I’d really like to do this without a minimum of mould-marks, hence the sprues. It means some finishing, but I was prepared for that.” She progressed to another tooth. “Usually, for a big job like this, I get a buttload of wax and reclaim it in the fast-dry, but clay was here, so I *have* to break it up. Pity."
She had, he noticed, picked seams that wouldn’t be so visible to the casual observer. "Pro job,” he said.
“Of course. Something like this, I expect to sell copies. Which means making a *darn* good mould. I’ve already borrowed every fan, heater and hair-dryer I could get away with so the plaster can set while I’m snoozing, and then it’s all the fun of deconstruction, cleaning, reassembly and mixing the stuff.” Tallwater grinned. “This is going to be *so* much cooler than my lunchbox troll."
"Your *what*?” Logan raised an eyebrow.
“In the tin lunchbox, over there."
Logan took a break to investigate, and had to stop himself from shredding the fucking thing. "The hell?"
"Anti-theft device,” she said. “Some establishments didn’t exactly care what happened to one student’s lunch, so… I took my own steps. The lunchbox thieves were broken of the habit in less than a week.” Tallwater sounded annoyingly pleased with herself. “I’m sure a decent paint job helped."
"Someone stealin’ from yer locker?"
"Heavens, no. I have nothing worth stealing *in* there. The daily addition of a rat corpse, however, is more than a tad annoying."
Click. "This ain’t for some project, is it?"
"Not the kind that gets graded, no."
He considered the multitude of options, up to and including his own, of finding the bastard who did it and tearing them a new one. Tallwater’s solution was… interestingly harmless. Unless the bastard had a heart condition.
But all the same… "Get ta bed, Tallwater. I’ll finish up for ya."
"Am I allowed to get back to it when I wake up?"
Seemed a good compromise. "Fine. Just get cleaned up an’ get to bed."
+
Jean set up her night-shields and settled down into a comfortable position. Sara wasn’t in yet, so that gave her half a chance at doing this the *right* way.
She let the shield-maintaining excercise run into her back-brain and relaxed into a quasi-slumber.
{rattledarattledarattle…}
That *fucking* clock.
{Dingledingledingdingding dingdingding dingdingding dingledingledingdingding dingdingdingding…}
That fucking *other* clock…
Jean tried to ease into slumberland again.
{rattledarattledarattle…}
_I can get accustomed to the noise. Heck, I used to sleep soundly next to a friggin’ train station. I can get used to one little ball-bearing clock._
{rattledarattledarattle…}
_Tune it out. Relax. Breathe._
{click} "Passing through,” said Sara. “Just require my night attire. I’ll try to come back in the dark after I’ve cleaned up.” {click}
_And I am not fucking asking why she has clay and plaster on her hands… up to her elbows._
{rattledarattledarattle…}
_I’m going to shoot that fucking clock._
{Dingledingledingdingding dingdingding dingdingding dingdledingledingdingding dingdingdingding… Dingdingdingding dingdingding dingdingding dingdingding…}
_Changed my mind. I’m going to shoot *that* fucking clock._ Jean sighed, turned over, and tried to get to sleep. She could tune out the five-minute rattles. She could do this.
{rattledarattledarattle… thunkathunkathunkarattlerattlethunkarattle…}
{Dingledingledingdingding dingdingding dingdingding dingdledingledingdingding dingdingdingding… Dingdingdingding dingdingding dingdingding dingdingding… Dingledingledingdingding dingdingdingding diiinnnnngg… diiinnnnngg… diiinnnnngg… diiinnnnngg… diiinnnnngg… diiinnnnngg… diiinnnnngg… diiinnnnngg… diiinnnnngg… diiinnnnngg…}
_I’m going to have a nervous twitch every time I hear “Ach Du Leiber Augustine”…_
The Professor intervened. _You learned to tune out the other chimes of the mansion. You can tune out this as well._
Sara returned, as promised, in the dark. “G'night,” she chirped.
“…the fuck y'need two clocks f'r anyway?” Jean managed.
“They’re special gifts from Dad,” said the lizard girl. “They help me sleep."
_…urge to kill… rising…_
Sara roamed around her half of the room, adding things to the hamster maze before she tucked herself in.
Wait. Hamsters were nocturnal.
{scratchscratchscratchscratch… scrabblescrabble… squeakity squeakity squeakity…}
_…fffffffffffuuuuuuuuuuuuck…_
~
"Good morning starshine…"
”…uuuuuUUUURRRRRrrrrrggghhh…“ Jean rolled over, after dreams tainted with _Ach Du Leiber Augustine_ and the rattling of ball-bearings, and readied a pillow. She aimed by ear.
{Whap!}
"Goddamn it, sing *quieter*…” Jean whimpered.
“And good morning to you, too.” Sara gently returned the pillow.
{Bamf!} “Time to wake– AAAHHH!” {Bamf!}
Sara yelped. “Not *again*…"
"TerriblysorryIdidn'tmeanithonest,” said a rushed German voice on the other side of the door. “Pleasedon'ttellLoganhe'llskinmealive."
"As long as you don’t tell, I don’t have a reason to,” said Sara, reaching for her clothes. “Perhaps you should knock before you bamf?"
"Perhaps *you* should kick the nekkid sun-worship,” muttered Jean.
{Dingledingledingdingding dingdingding dingdingding…}
“Godfuckingdamnit! Does the universe *hate* me?” Jean screamed over the chimes.
“Just think. Today’s Friday. Tomorrow, you should be allowed to sleep in,” said Sara.
_That’s what *she* thinks._ Jean lurched upright as Sara was leaving. “Hey. You’re pink…” She decided not to ask about the small pieces of foam on the carpet.
Sara waved her left wrist. “Holowatch. That means I can return to school.” She grinned. “No more rats, soonish. The Professor’s taking me early so I can get ahead of the rodent. I hope."
What. Ever. Jean forced herself onto her feet and got her shit together by degrees. A hot shower helped, and by the time she made it to coffee, she was awake and Sara was nowhere to be seen. Kurt was trying to be invisible while he engulfed breakfast and wearing his holowatch to hide his blushes.
Mind you, one had to be quite accustomed to the Elf to know when he was blushing. Fur hid a lot of subtle cues… but not all of them.
+
Todd shook himself and breathed deep in order to stay awake. Someone was coming. Sara. She was wearing a black shirt with green, vertical writing on it. The Matrix? No… the writing was binary. Something he’d have to learn.
He grinned. "Hey, snookums. How’s the troll?"
"I managed to make two. You want one?"
"Nah, I got my intercontinental, ballistic sundae launcher. I’m coo’."
Sara opened her locker. "Oh. *Charming*."
"Yeah. One got by me, yesterday. Sorry, yo."
She just whipped a plastic bag out and encapsulated the whole thing. "Infant bait. Ick.” The whole lot was dumped in the bin.
Todd shuddered. Even the *mention* of maggots gave him flashbacks. “Euw."
Sara put down her bag and dug out a truncated cardboard pyramid. "Here it is. The first locker-troll in history."
"That big thing in all dat? Whoah."
Sara placed it and undid the tape holding the business end together, then carefully closed the locker while removing the front piece of cardboard. ”*There*,“ she said. "The next person who opens that is in for a nasty shock."
Todd was grinning from ear to ear. "Wish I had a camera fo’ that, yo."
Sara thought. "You know… I have pxt on my cellular…"
It took him a whole minute to learn how to handle it, and then they had to bid each other farewell so Sara could go see Principal Kelly with Xavier.
Now, the waiting was a lot more fun.
+
"Ah. Mister Essel. I’ve been having some problems finding your permanent record."
Sara sighed. "It’s Sara Louise Adrien, sir,” she intoned. “A-D-R-I-*E*-N."
Xavier gave her an understanding look, one that said, "I’ve been at this for fifteen minutes."
"Is it? Then… has Mister Essel left the school?"
Sara slumped into her chair. "No. Mister Essel never existed. He’s a fabrication of ignorance, poor memory, myth and legend."
Kelly seemed to ignore this while digging in the A section of the filing cabinets. "Odd, I could have sworn I saw him on campus, the other day…"
Sara rolled her eyes. "Five-eleven, thin, wears peculiar T-shirts and loose, stiff jeans? Permanently slumped over under a big knapsack? Slightly girlish hair? Like mine?"
"Why, yes. Have you seen–” click. He’d found her file. “*Oh*. Adrien, S. L. Of *course*. I’m terribly sorry."
_And you’re getting worse with practice,_ thought Sara. "Happens all the time,” she said. “I’m almost over screaming into the void."
Kelly put down Sara’s file, which took up two, very thick, folders. "Are you *certain* that -ah- Sara is gifted? As you can see, she’s -ah- had quite a few problems."
"No doubt, a plea for help from a frustrated genius,” said Xavier. “If you care to examine the precise *nature* of the disturbances she’s caused…"
Kelly flipped a few pages. "Ice capades in July?"
"Yes. That one does rather leap out."
"Heathen rituals?"
"First of May, sir,” said Sara. “I put up a more historically accurate maypole and danced around in woad and flowers."
"Yes. *Just* woad and flowers, I see."
"Nothing else was *working*,” Sara complained. “I had to get out of there or my brain would implode."
"Ahem,” said Xavier with a sidelong glare. “Obviously, we have to interest Sara, or risk a repeat of… several unfortunate incidents."
"Oh, don’t worry, sir. I try not to do the same thing twice."
Kelly gave her a classic I’m-sure-as-hell-going-to-remember-you-now glare of doom. "That,” he said, “is hardly reassuring."
"And all the more reason to put Sara into some advanced classes,” smoothed the Professor. “After all, we can’t afford to risk her boredom."
"What classes were you considering?"
"All of the sciences and intellectual pursuits need to be moved up at least one grade,” said Xavier. “More, if she proves apt at the subject. Her capability for Trigonometry is at a Senior level."
Kelly was starting to look at her as if she were a pile of tax-free money.
"But mostly, I’m concerned about her need for some variety of outlet."
"Pardon?” said Sara.
“You need to express yourself,” said Xavier. “And since you’re a creative genius, you shouldn’t have too much trouble with the Arts. I think they’d do you a great amount of good. Especially Drama."
"Drama?"
"To raise your confidence,” he said. “To give you -ah- more of an edge with some of your contemporaries."
And give her some much-needed inter-personal skills. "Ah. Will I have to be with Seniors in there, too?” Oops. She didn’t mean to sneer the word ‘Seniors’.
“You have something against the Seniors, miss?"
"Of course I do. I was last year’s Froshtie."
"I beg your pardon?"
+
The halls began to fill, and Todd bought Sara’s cellular out of his pocket. Ready and waiting.
A distant roar from the direction of the office. "THEY DO *WHAT*?"
Whoah. Kelly had found out something *truly* heinous, by the sound of things. Oh well, he’d find out in morning assembly, when it became the topic of his morning sermon.
Incoming guy with a grudge against 'fags’… nope. Passed right by. Oh *shit*, there was Janine. He did his best I’m-waiting-for-someone-else look by craning his neck to look past her.
It worked. She was ignoring him.
And she was opening Sara’s locker as if it was *hers*…
Todd pressed 'record’.
Janine turned the last numbers in the combiniation, undid the bolt…
{…foooooont…}
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGGGHHH!"
Todd started laughing. It was magnificent. A full-colour, larger-than-life behemoth of a foam monster had practically flattened Little Miss Brackets. He zoomed in on her, focussing on the box that held the dead rat.
"So tell the viewers at home, Janine Wiltshire,” he said. “Why in hell d'yo’ put a dead rat into the locker of the only friend you *got*?"
She was flabberghasted for an entire twenty seconds. Long enough for a crowd to gather. "It'th jutht a *joke*,” she said. “I wanted to thee what she did about it, that'th all."
"Fo’ two whole *years*?"
"YETH!"
"An’ yo’ tole people she *ate* them, right?"
"Only to thee what she thaid about it…” Janine clambered upright.
“An’ you think it’s the right thing to do, huh?"
"I can play prankth if I want to. I don’t have to juthtify mythelf to *you*."
Todd decided to play the nasty card. "By the way. You wet yourself."
The crowd burst out laughing before she even had time to check if it was true.
Todd stopped recording. "This is what *happens* when you treat yo’ friends like shit. Get used to it!” He put the phone away and threw the rat corpse at her, where it stuck between her shirt-buttons. “An’ take yo’ shit with yo’!"
Some members of the audience applauded as Janine bolted for the nearest Ladies’ toilet.
"Thankyou. Thankyou.” Todd bowed, picking up the locker-troll. “This particular revenge was hand-crafted by Adrien-Tolensky Novelties, Inc. If yo’ want to put in an order fo’ your very own locker-troll, I’m availlable in the courtyard durin’ lunch.” He wadded up the troll and managed - with only a little difficulty - to cram it back into its cardboard chute, and the locker. Just in case li'l mouthy decided to return. “As fo’ the rest o’ ya. Watch this locker. Anyone who breaks into it is *guaranteed* a spectacular surprise."
God, revenge was good.
~
Sara latched onto his arm and said, "Ineedsomewheretohideduringassembly."
Todd’s stomach lurched. "What happened?"
"I thought he knew,” said Sara. “I’d never have said anything if he *didn’t* know. Honest!"
"What? What? What?"
"I…” Sara looked both ways, then lowered her voice. “I *told* Principal Kelly about the Froshties… I’m doomed…"
"Okay… there’s a place we can hang out near th’ fire exit. We can run fo’ it if things get ugly.” He returned her phone. “An’ there’s a killer movie on that fo’ ya."
"Thankyou, darling. Show me your lurking spot, please… I think I’ll need it."
+
Kelly waited patiently for the conversations to die down. "I’ve just been made aware of a Bayville tradition,” he said. “Something called… the culling of the Froshties…"
…murmur murmur murmur… The Seniors looked uncomfortable. The Freshmen, knowing their nickname was 'frosh’, looked nervous.
"A freshman is singled out by the Seniors for this process, depending on what the Seniors in question think to be amusing at the time. The freshman is always female. The Seniors, always male. The leader of the Senior group, usually a man considered popular and adorable, procedes to woo the victim under false pretenses. He will ask her to the Prom."
Several Freshman girls squeaked.
"She never gets to *go* to the Prom,” said Kelly, stopping them cold before they could get started. “Depending on the plans, those girls are either publicly humilliated - or *raped*."
Kitty Pryde, famous for her on-again-off-again relationship with Lance Alvers, glared pure liquid death at the Senior. He threw his hands up and said something like, "New to me…"
The rest of the freshman females murmured amongst themselves.
"This - 'culling of the Froshtie’… is *NOT* going to happen on my watch,” Kelly said, voice full of righteous anger. “If *any* freshman is approached by *any* Senior, they are *not* to trust them. Report any suspicions you may have to the office, *immediately*. And I rely on the rest of you. Those who stand between the Freshmen and the Seniors, to keep an eye on the youngest members of our little community. Some of you, I know, were the 'Froshtie’ of a prior year. We *cannot* let this evil persist."
Murmur murmur murmur murmur murmur…
"And if it *does* persist,” said Kelly. “Rest assured that this school *will* persecute the offenders to the full extent of the law."
Murmure murmur *MURMUR* murmur… went the Seniors.
"This is not a harmless prank, like rigging one’s locker with certain anti-theft devices… you know who you are….” Several reported anti-theft people grinned and a couple hooted. “This is *assault*. A crime for which offenders can be *jailed*. They can be *sued*. It is a black mark which will *never* be covered up. And to that end… I am extending an amnesty. Anyone who has been a previous victim of the 'Froshtie’ tradition can come forward under protected anonymity - and this school will aid in the prosecution of their abuser."
Several gasps.
"This alledged tradition. This *evil*… has gone on long enough. I *will* *NOT* allow it to persist!"
A large portion of the ladies in the audience began to cheer and applaud. The men, he noted, were almost universally silent. Some approved, some looked as if their favourite toy had just been taken away, and some were - blank… trying to figure out how they felt about the whole thing.
Kelly let the audience settle down. "That having been said, on to the morning announcements…"
+
Sara trembled, collapsing to her knees in their little alcove. "I could have *sworn* he’d announce me as the one who told all,” she sighed. “I could have been eviscerated… milled into powder by angry fists and feet…"
"Hey, he ain’t *that* big of an asshole,” said Todd. “Now that he’s boring people to sleep, check out th’ film I made yo’. Ain’t no Frank Capra, but I think I got the vital bits."
Sara got out her phone and played it. "I’ll say you did… Testing my reactions, hm? Mayhap, I shall make her *my* lab rat…"
"Yeah, but I think she got enough for today."
"Not yet. She needs a dose from her own spoon…” Sara started pressing buttons.
“Um. What'cha doin’?"
"Sending the whole file to the school gossip board. It’ll be all over the campus before lunch. Just like everything she’s ever said about me."
"Yo… that’s harsh…"
"Once she knows what she’s doing to other people when she opens her big mouth… Once she recognises what she’s done and apologises… That’s when I’ll stop."
"No second chance?"
"I already gave it to her when I asked if she knew anything about the rats, last year. Now is the time for lessons.” Sara hit 'send’ with a quasi-vicious stab. “The worm is turning, Miss Wiltshire. Beware its fangs."
Todd shivered. "Hoo-ah…"
Sara looked almost - beatific. "You know… I suddenly feel so much lighter, now."
This change, from simmering fury to angelic peace, was alarmingly sudden. "Sure you’re not playin’ with no boxes?” he asked.
“Positive, dear. No more for me. They’re bad for my health.” Sara listened to the rambling speeches. “Ugh, he’s still on sports and pep rallies. We have plenty of time to fix my schedule."
"Um. What?"
"I found last year that the schedule makes much more sense upside-down… and colour-coded for area. I re-write the class so I can do a quick-referral, and then colour-code the rectangles so I know where I have to go. Want to help?"
_Anything to distract me from the vision of your fury,_ he thought. "Sure thing.”
~