hit the ground runnin' ● open Feb 5, 2013 23:50:06 GMT -5
Post by FRIEDA MARLENE on Feb 5, 2013 23:50:06 GMT -5
|[atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,padding:0; margin: 0; background-image:url(http://i1211.photobucket.com/albums/cc436/AmberLehcar/BeFunky_Frie_zpsf49c7545.png);background-repeat:repeat-y;width: 500px;height:650px;]|
There was a certain kind of crackle that rattled the air at that given moment, a tension that would be hard to put into words, at the very least. The room was cold, more chilly than it should have been given the fair temperatures that could be found outdoors. Of course, the heat pulsing from the star millions of miles away provided a different sort of heat than what was lacking within the confines of that nearly rectangular box. And, seemingly alone, sat a teacher and student, master and pupil, creator and created. If this were to be a children's television show, surely, electricity would be flying down the line where their eyes were seemingly locked onto one another, the resentment evident in the way both held themselves. Red eyes were narrowed in hatred. Brown eyes were tilted in displeasure. All in all, it was a formula that added up to disaster.
The morning was young, surely, the clock on the wall reading about half an hour before school was actually to begin. For the hallways, one could see a stray student or teacher hurrying down the empty corridor from time to time. However, other than that, the building was almost as empty as a ghost town. The particular classroom in which she was seated was no exception. Compared to the twenty or so students that sat in there throughout the span of the day, a measely two people really couldn't dream to compare. In addition, during the day time, someone was always talking, whether it be the teacher giving a lesson, the humble drone of whispers under peoples' breaths, or the fool who thought himself tall shouting obnoxiously across the room and laughing at anything and everything to appear strong. There were no words being thrown around now, though. The only noise was the faint tapping sound coming from approaching figures from outside the room and the somewhat blusterous wind attacking the building as a whole from the outside, threatening to detach it from it's base and send it hurtling into the atmosphere above it's original place.
Morning detention was not a good way to start of the school day, obviously, neither for student, nor teacher. The body language, the pulsing emotions, everything about the mood of the scene could prove this. An inconvinience to both, if you would. Killing precious time as to punish the younger of the two in hopes they would learn from their mistakes and get over themselves, chaning their ways and starting down the path towards the life of a pure hearted person. Yeah. As if. The red-haired trouble maker sitting in the front row all by her lonesome was having none of that. They could give her detention as many times as they wanted, scold her as many times as they wanted, call home as many times as they wanted, done anything and she would still refuse to twist herself to fit their preferences and distastes. Her father taught her that was wrong, told her that she should be who she wanted to be and no one else. Maybe she wanted to be the source of a little anarchy. Was that really so wrong? Well, according to the man across from her, it must have been. They'd been having a tournament of staring contests on repeat for what seemed to be an eternity - probably five or so minutes in reality, though - the elder of the two often loosing without even realizing it. It was more one-sided than anything; he probably didn't even know she'd challenged him telepathically. Of course, it was weird, just staring like that for so long. She had to make something out of it.
It took everything Frieda had to keep herself from groaning aloud, cursing under her breath, and slouching as far down into her chair as humanly possible. She'd tried that stunt earlier in the morning. All it resulted in was her hurting her back on her hasty way up and another scolding from the black-haired man staring at her then. She hoped he died in a hole. Got run over by a bus on his way home. Was struck down by whatever higher being was up there himself whilst leaving the prison she was stuck in now. And, while they struggled to find a replacement, boom! No class for her or anyone else in Class C! They'd be saved for a whole week! Or, at least, this was the image she was building up in her mind. It was times like these that she'd grab paper - anything she could possibly get her hands on, honestly - and start doodling like mad. Draw funny shapes, bubble letters, the knight in shining armor she wanted to sweep off her feet and take her away from this pit hole she'd been forced into by the law. But that was kind of. Um. You know. Impossible? Not with mister Watchy McWatcherson hovering over her like a hawk did its prey. She'd do anything rather than be here by herself with him. She'd even rather be playing that corny card game that they sold all over. What was it called again? Duel Monsters or something?
"I'm going to use the restroom," came his nearly monotoned voice, strong and high in volume. Certainly a silence breaker there. "Don't move from that desk or You'll be sitting with the principle all day rather than me this morning. And, trust me - he's far worse than I am." The bitter child was half tempted to hiss something about how not many things could be worse than this before deciding it better to quiet herself. Nodding slightly, the scowl never vanishing from her features, she eyed him carefully as he turned on his heel and exitted the room in a haste. How long was he holding it in until he couldn't anymore? She tried to imagine him wetting himself. Now, wouldn't that be a sight for sore eyes? Bending down and fetching a notebook by her feet, she began drawing a variety of things on the blank spaces of past assignments and notes, her first being a teacher's pants soiled by their own waste. It was pointless to try to keep the smirk off her face.
The minutes ticked by and nothing happened, more and more white space being taken up as she drew a variety of different, horrific dolls, each resembling her in some odd fashion. A good ten minutes had slipped by and, still, no sign of the teacher. She took this as he either had a serious bladder problem that would need to be checked on after this was all said and done or he'd ditched her like she tried to ditch school, not wanting to be alone with her in that room any longer than necessary. Well, that was alright. She still probably hated his existance in her life more than he her's. Lots of resentment going on there. Maybe she'd consult the guidance counciler and ask him to allow her to sit down with all of her teachers so she could spit their inperfections in their faces. That ought to let her blow of some stress. It'd be niced to wound their prides without getting into too much trouble or causing a scene in the classroom. Again. She must have finally gotten the picture after the twentieth time or just gotten bored with the sport of harassing teachers in front of her peers. Deducing that she was left in absolute solitude with no one to catch her, she slowly stuffed her textbooks, notebooks, and other necessities into a sloppy piled and strolled towards the door.
Pausing and staring back at her desk, she wondered how bad the principle really would be in comparison to the short-haired robot that was watching her before. It only took her five seconds to realize how pathetic it was that she was even musing over that in the first place. All bark, no bite, she said. Trying to scare her into staying still. Well, she would have none of that. "Just try to keep me chained up, moron. I'll break free and sock you so hard in the nose your brains fly out."