Post by Match on May 27, 2010 0:14:04 GMT -4
If you add to this, you can do it in someone else's p.o.v. (sorry if you read this before and it said p.s- i had accidentally highlighted and deleted some stuff and didn't realize that had happened)
- - - - - - - - - -
It was just another normal spring day. The sun was already out and had been since five this morning. Now it was 6:20, forty minutes before school starts, and the sun is radiating warmth so much that it promises to be in the 90's.
The cherry blossom trees that surround the school fill the air with sweet fragrance mixing with the scent of raw vanilla- though i have never been able to find where the vanilla is at here. The ground is darkened slightly even though i never seen or heard any rain this past night.
The students of Hutchinson High are probably like every other student at any other high school-fakes. Even to me that sounds harsh, but after years of watching them it is the truth. The cheerleaders are cheerleaders cause their mama's expected it; they dress in short skirts, push-up bras, low cut shirts and heavy make-up because the boys expect it; they drive fancy cars when they hit 16 and go shopping for pricey threads because their daddy's expect it; and they got sucked into the book dumbness because that's what the teachers expected.
The jocks play their sports because their daddy's will disown them; their mama's will let them get away with anything; it gets them the "hot" girls; and of course they don't have to use their brains since all the teachers pass them on anyways.
You got the "geeks" who know way too much about games, computers, books-anything that isn't sports or make-up and clothes. The "losers" who don't really have any specialty, they just kinda float about trying to find what they do like and they're okay with that- except when everyone else degrades them and mash fries on their heads. Of course that's not what makes them known as losers, cause otherwise a good 75% of the school would be losers. No what makes them known as losers is that there's something off about them like they wear "cheap" clothes, or they have the same bug eyed glasses since the 3rd grade, or they had some embarrassing mishap in front of the other 25% of the school.
According to their groups is where they stand scattered across the school grounds- cheerleaders on the grass pretending to practice, but really only making sure they have the jock's attention from the parking lot where they stand against their black suvs and jeeps. Oh yes and to gossip about who's the cutest, the ugliest, who is dating who and whatever trash catches their attention.
Like I said, normal.
With my new green and black oriental style bag/purse slung over my shoulder, I shut the door to my 1986 corvette. If my parents had had their way i would be driving some prissy girly car jeep truck thing. I shake my head in disgust and weave my way through the parked cars to the walk that will lead me into everyday, average school.
- - -
"Can anyone tell me what the difference between their manor and they're home is?" Mrs. Juniper, who must be in her sixties by now since she was teaching English when my mom went here, speaks in a soft motherly tone. Her white curls bob as she nods to Amanda.
"Well like," she bites her lip and curls a strand of hair around her finger as the guys around her chuckle. "Like isn't one spelled one way while the other is like you know spelled another?"
My eyes roll back without conscious thought, I do it that often anymore. Why is it that in high school we are re-learning what we learned back in oh i don't know, like 5th grade maybe 4th.
"Well dear, in a sense you are correct. But i am looking for a more specific reason. Anyone else? Mr. Bradly?"
John Bradly, the head basketball player sitting to Amanda's right, looks up from his cell phone. "Why don't you ask Gracie Ann? I'm sure she knows."
Mrs. Juniper gets a very confused look to her features as she tries to figure out who this Gracie Ann is. Honestly i would have figured that after three years of the other students calling me by my legal name she'd know it, but i guess after memorizing the class list as it's printed she doesn't have any room left for much else.
"She could ask Gracie Ann Johnathan Ethan Bradly the third except there is no Gracie Ann present. You should really do as your mama taught you and respect your elders." Alright so his mama probably actually never taught him that, seems none of the parents any more taught their kids much at all in the manners and respect column, but i did get a reaction from him anyways.
"What did you just call me? No one calls me by my full name not even my mama." He tries mimicking mama the same way i had said it but only sounds like a tape recorder that's broken. Just as i'm about to answer back the door at the front opens.
At first sight there is no doubt that this boy is beyond mature compared to all those around me, but also that he's not fake. He moves to his own drum, his own thoughts. No one pulls his strings.
"You sound like a broken tape recorder; you better just stick to throwing a ball around and thinking about the next girl you are going to lay. It's obvious you're not good for much else than that." Finally everyone else notices him too.
"Excuse me mister, but who are you? I am in the middle of teaching class can't you see?" Poor Mrs. Juniper, she never really has had a backbone. At least not in this life time of teaching at Hutchinson High.
He doesn't answer though instead his eyes meet mine. Instantly there's sparks, but not the romance, i'm-going-to-faint-since-he's-so-hot kind. No these sparks were from polor opposite. Actually maybe we're too much alike.
Now that doesn't mean he isn't attractive- the boy is breath taking. Never thought i'd be saying that, even if it is to myself, but here i am doing it.
His hair is long, well long by most of today's standards. It reaches just past his shoulder blades and is the craziest most touchable turquoise i have ever seen. His eyes are such a light brown they look more like honey- the sunshine bubbly yellow kind and they even have a thin line of black eyeliner surrounding them-both top lid and bottom. It isn't really noticeable; in fact it looks more like a movie stars make-up, so that they are wearing it but only enough to make their features defined and noticeable by camera.
He wears a black leather jacket (even though it's nearly 88 degrees out already) that's worn but not ripped anywhere. A faded Buckcherry shirt is underneath that accompanied by fitted washed out jeans- and yes i know they are cheap pants that just happen to look great on him. To complete the outfit he has a pair of thick black biker boots on that have no sign of any zippers; just silver buckles.
- - - - - - - - - -
It was just another normal spring day. The sun was already out and had been since five this morning. Now it was 6:20, forty minutes before school starts, and the sun is radiating warmth so much that it promises to be in the 90's.
The cherry blossom trees that surround the school fill the air with sweet fragrance mixing with the scent of raw vanilla- though i have never been able to find where the vanilla is at here. The ground is darkened slightly even though i never seen or heard any rain this past night.
The students of Hutchinson High are probably like every other student at any other high school-fakes. Even to me that sounds harsh, but after years of watching them it is the truth. The cheerleaders are cheerleaders cause their mama's expected it; they dress in short skirts, push-up bras, low cut shirts and heavy make-up because the boys expect it; they drive fancy cars when they hit 16 and go shopping for pricey threads because their daddy's expect it; and they got sucked into the book dumbness because that's what the teachers expected.
The jocks play their sports because their daddy's will disown them; their mama's will let them get away with anything; it gets them the "hot" girls; and of course they don't have to use their brains since all the teachers pass them on anyways.
You got the "geeks" who know way too much about games, computers, books-anything that isn't sports or make-up and clothes. The "losers" who don't really have any specialty, they just kinda float about trying to find what they do like and they're okay with that- except when everyone else degrades them and mash fries on their heads. Of course that's not what makes them known as losers, cause otherwise a good 75% of the school would be losers. No what makes them known as losers is that there's something off about them like they wear "cheap" clothes, or they have the same bug eyed glasses since the 3rd grade, or they had some embarrassing mishap in front of the other 25% of the school.
According to their groups is where they stand scattered across the school grounds- cheerleaders on the grass pretending to practice, but really only making sure they have the jock's attention from the parking lot where they stand against their black suvs and jeeps. Oh yes and to gossip about who's the cutest, the ugliest, who is dating who and whatever trash catches their attention.
Like I said, normal.
With my new green and black oriental style bag/purse slung over my shoulder, I shut the door to my 1986 corvette. If my parents had had their way i would be driving some prissy girly car jeep truck thing. I shake my head in disgust and weave my way through the parked cars to the walk that will lead me into everyday, average school.
- - -
"Can anyone tell me what the difference between their manor and they're home is?" Mrs. Juniper, who must be in her sixties by now since she was teaching English when my mom went here, speaks in a soft motherly tone. Her white curls bob as she nods to Amanda.
"Well like," she bites her lip and curls a strand of hair around her finger as the guys around her chuckle. "Like isn't one spelled one way while the other is like you know spelled another?"
My eyes roll back without conscious thought, I do it that often anymore. Why is it that in high school we are re-learning what we learned back in oh i don't know, like 5th grade maybe 4th.
"Well dear, in a sense you are correct. But i am looking for a more specific reason. Anyone else? Mr. Bradly?"
John Bradly, the head basketball player sitting to Amanda's right, looks up from his cell phone. "Why don't you ask Gracie Ann? I'm sure she knows."
Mrs. Juniper gets a very confused look to her features as she tries to figure out who this Gracie Ann is. Honestly i would have figured that after three years of the other students calling me by my legal name she'd know it, but i guess after memorizing the class list as it's printed she doesn't have any room left for much else.
"She could ask Gracie Ann Johnathan Ethan Bradly the third except there is no Gracie Ann present. You should really do as your mama taught you and respect your elders." Alright so his mama probably actually never taught him that, seems none of the parents any more taught their kids much at all in the manners and respect column, but i did get a reaction from him anyways.
"What did you just call me? No one calls me by my full name not even my mama." He tries mimicking mama the same way i had said it but only sounds like a tape recorder that's broken. Just as i'm about to answer back the door at the front opens.
At first sight there is no doubt that this boy is beyond mature compared to all those around me, but also that he's not fake. He moves to his own drum, his own thoughts. No one pulls his strings.
"You sound like a broken tape recorder; you better just stick to throwing a ball around and thinking about the next girl you are going to lay. It's obvious you're not good for much else than that." Finally everyone else notices him too.
"Excuse me mister, but who are you? I am in the middle of teaching class can't you see?" Poor Mrs. Juniper, she never really has had a backbone. At least not in this life time of teaching at Hutchinson High.
He doesn't answer though instead his eyes meet mine. Instantly there's sparks, but not the romance, i'm-going-to-faint-since-he's-so-hot kind. No these sparks were from polor opposite. Actually maybe we're too much alike.
Now that doesn't mean he isn't attractive- the boy is breath taking. Never thought i'd be saying that, even if it is to myself, but here i am doing it.
His hair is long, well long by most of today's standards. It reaches just past his shoulder blades and is the craziest most touchable turquoise i have ever seen. His eyes are such a light brown they look more like honey- the sunshine bubbly yellow kind and they even have a thin line of black eyeliner surrounding them-both top lid and bottom. It isn't really noticeable; in fact it looks more like a movie stars make-up, so that they are wearing it but only enough to make their features defined and noticeable by camera.
He wears a black leather jacket (even though it's nearly 88 degrees out already) that's worn but not ripped anywhere. A faded Buckcherry shirt is underneath that accompanied by fitted washed out jeans- and yes i know they are cheap pants that just happen to look great on him. To complete the outfit he has a pair of thick black biker boots on that have no sign of any zippers; just silver buckles.
Now that I go back and look I apologize, I got caught up in it, yet I think that if you claim dibs you should at least post your entry the same day. No worries. If you don't want me to contribute anymore I'm cool with it. It's a fun story so far. 
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