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Fri Dec 14, 2018 5:45 pm
|WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.|
Their screaming woke her. She lay in bed and listened to the angered voices as they lashed back and forth. The walls muffled much and yet not enough to block it out entirely. Helena sat up and sighed in a tired, predictable way; This was nothing new, this was her life. It was almost a ritual, to dress with the sounds of their insults and shattering dishes. She tuned them out as best she could.
The room loudly shouted the affluence of its owner, luxuriance tucked away in every corner. A gilded cage for a pretty dove.
Her knapsack slung onto one shoulder, she took a glance at herself in the mirror. Flawless as always - a muscle twitched in her cheek. The keys dangled from her fingertips, a gentle jingling noise.
She managed to slip out without attracting either of their attentions, not that either of them cared enough about her to bother. Behind her the house sparkled in the early April sunshine, a blinding, glamorous white. It was too early to leave but she could always hang out in the library or try and find Calla or Jaketta, if either of them were around.
She slipped into the driver's seat, and grinned as the engine roared to life, a seductive snarl. It's red, red expanse had been a gift from one of her father's business contacts, she forgot which one, probably the racing one. She left the top down, for once, uncaring how her hair would appear and stomped on the accelerator, leaving behind the driveway in a fizzing, spitting cloud of gravel and dust.
She always drove faster than was necessary, she could feel alive for a short stretch of time. It got the blood pumping. It gave her time to put the mask into place. The fake smile settled onto her face with an ease that sometimes scared her.
Neither Calla, nor Jaketta were where she could find them. This didn't surprise her, it was almost an hour till the bell would ring and the first classes start. Barely anybody lingered in the halls, and the ones that did were not those she would associate with without prompting. They were beneath her.
The library's hush in opposition to her parent's arguing was calming, and she hid herself away, passing the time by doodling away into her sketchbook. It was a pointless talent that she would never be able to profit on, it wasn't a fitting pastime for someone like her. She enjoyed it regardless, taking pleasure in how horrified her father would be if he saw the things his daughter drew.
The warning bell rang, five minutes to get to class. She cleared away her things, sliding that mask back into place and slipped between the many aisles of books, turned a blind corner and...
Sat Dec 15, 2018 10:38 pm
Andrew awoke not to shouting, but the dull drone and bone dry rattle of a window mounted air conditioning unit on its last leg. The small, two bedroom apartment he shared with his mother was still -- empty. The TV in the other room played on without a viewer. Ghostly canned laughter filled the apartment as reruns of some saccharine, overplayed syndicated sitcom ran. Sonic dissonance, but strangely, it felt like company.
On the fridge, his mother left a note with sweeping, neat handwriting that read, "Working late. Leftovers are in the fridge. Love, Mom. He took the note and cast it aside before opening the refrigerator door. The cool air spilled out around him. The light inside had stopped working and there was an old, offensive must that baking soda alone could not fix. It assailed his nostrils and Andrew winced. He shut the door and rubbed his tired eyes, moving toward the knapsack that leaned against wall by the door.
The apartment hadn't always been so empty. For as long as he could remember, his mother worked, but the absence of Andrew's brothers was keenly felt. John, the eldest, made Mom so proud with his acceptance with scholarship to MIT. A full ride. He saw him only on holidays now. Ronnie too, one year Andrew's senior, had moved into a house with friends after graduation, leaving Andrew to finish his final year at the prestigious Salsola Prep alone. Alone.
Unlocking his bike from the rack outside, Andrew rode into hell.
It resembled a university more than a high school. It was an old campus, built in the early 18th century around a courtyard of green. Beautiful. Well-manicured. One could say, looking from the outside in, Salsola Prep was without flaw. A finishing school of prestige. The tuition certainly reflected it's exclusivity. His mother had insisted he apply. Only the best education for her boys, no matter the cost.
Yet, when one looked from the inside out, the cracks in Salsola Prep started to show. Andrew hated it here. This fake plastic place full of fake plastic people with fake plastic smiles. He saw how the other students looked at him, the teachers too, how he was beneath them. A socioeconomic checkmark for the schools yearly review, and nothing more.
He smoked a cigarette on the lawn before retreating to the library. There was precious time to waste before the starting bell. The vast library Salsola had to offer was Andrew's only solace and within, his only friends dwelled. Ginsberg. Hemingway. Bukowski. The great American writers.
Andrew thumbed through shelves. He cradled several books in arms, quickening his pace as the warning bell ran. At the end of the aisle, Andrew was looking down as he walked -- smacking square into a student who took the corner blind.
The books he carried spilled onto the floor.
Sat Dec 15, 2018 11:26 pm
She ran, quite literally, into another student. Her knapsack, her books and her sketchpad all tumbled from her grasping fingers onto the floor to mingle with the other boy's things. The curse flew, unbidden, viscous in the still, musty air.
"Shit!" It was only another difference between herself and those that were beneath her notice, the twist of the exotic made her different, better, special. Or so she told herself.
The boy was... well he was a nobody. She knew his name because she knew everybody, even if they weren't worth talking to. He was scruffy looking, not manicured like the other higher class boys. A pampered pedigree besides a back-alley mongrel. The difference between them was startling, and it was on the tip of her tongue to bark at him and mind him watch his step.
He was looking down though and she followed his gaze to see that her sketchbook had burst open, revealing its extremely inappropriate content. Fuck. Her jaw snapped shut and she leaned down to snatch up all her stuff, snapping away the questionable artwork.
Helena straightened up, and pinned him with a stare, refusing to allow the heat to rise in her cheeks, bringing to bare upon him the force of her allure. She would own this situation, never one to allow the unexpected to ruffle her, the mask could not slip. The young woman smiled slowly, canting her head to the side with a tumble of errant, wind-blown curls.
He did have pretty green eyes though.
Her brows quirked, she winked, and then she was striding past him with her head high and confidence radiating of every step.
Fri Jan 04, 2019 5:18 pm
Andrew was immediately apologetic as he bent down to quickly collect his things. "Oh god, I'm so sorry," he muttered, resting the blame on his own shoulders despite not totally being at fault. One, or rather a student like Andrew, survived at Salsola Prep by keeping his head down. Make no waves. Be no one. The other cursed to herself in a foreign, lilting accent as fair hands scrambled for notebooks and pens. Now she -- she was someone.
Helena Troy Lykoi. The eventual heiress to the Lykoi Automotive empire and the fortune that came with it. Fancy, flashy sportscars for people with the depth of a thimble and more money than they knew what to do with. He imagined quite a few of Salsola's graduates would one day own one of her rolling monstrosities. She was everything Andrew didn't like; wealthy, connected, beautiful. The picture of what a model Salsolan student should be.
She reached for a notebook and Andrew's eyes followed to an open page. Dicks. Dicks. Dicks. The girl was a confirmed dick-drawer. She even remembered the ball hairs. The ball hairs were the most important part. It wasn't just a notebook of dicks, but he also saw loose sketches of saucy scenarios that would make any self-respecting mother cry. Nothing could have surprised him more.
Stunned and with eyes wide, Andrew watched as she collected her belongings and turned away, winking coyly as if he'd been intentionally let in on some little secret. He didn't know what to make of it.
Collecting his books, Andrew went on to first period. He arrived late, just after the final bell.
Fri Jan 04, 2019 6:18 pm
Helena resisted the urge to look back, feeling his eyes upon her skin. Control was imperative, control was important.
She ran into Calla on the outskirts of the library and gladly hooked arms with her girlfriend, the devious duo were a formidable pair. The taller, blue eyed femme renowned for her... occult pursuits; they were a dyad to be wary of, power and beauty rolled in together.
The day passed her by in a blur of classrooms and teachers. Her fingers idled across crisp, clean pages, reams of notes and observations filling up their blankness. Helena was smart, more intelligent than she was given credit for. The truth of it was, she really didn't need to be. The pen tapped against her lips unconsciously. Soon her father would chose which of his esteemed business colleges she would marry, and the path of her life would be mapped for her. All required of her was that she followed it, look pretty and kept her mouth shut.
Her finishing degree would mean nothing, nor any of the hobbies she so carefully tended. She would become just like her own mother, a beautiful shadow. Graceful to look at, capable of making polite conversations but overwhelmingly empty of emotion. Horrifying for the placidity with which she considered it, she pondered if she would hate her own eventual children as much as her mère did herself.
Each day her ornate prison tightened just a fraction more. She suffered in silence.
She said goodbye to Calla, to the others she called 'friend', they had their own homes to return to. Likely with happy families. Helena kept all of her own issues away from Salsola, it was not a place to air weaknesses. The other students would circle like sharks at the scent of blood in the water; she had watched, and taken part, in such things before. It was a savage yet civilized world they lived in, and you were either predator or prey. As much as she hated it, Helena was her father's daughter, all predator.
She resisted climbing into her red baby though, leaning against its hood. Her last class had let out early, she lounged close to the bike rack, knowing that the boy from the library would be by shortly since he rode a bike to and from school. Smoke curled from the cigarette gripped between her teeth, stolen from her mother. The dislike between the two of them was mutual.
The last bell rung, and Helena sat in wait for the green-eyed male as eager bodies poured from the brick and mortar building. Some students stared at her casually leaning against her car, they looked away quickly when she brought her gaze upon them, none of them could meet her gaze for more than seconds.
She puffed through the last of her smoke, telling herself that this wasn't just another reason to avoid going home, and flicked away the end.
Fri Jan 04, 2019 10:54 pm
The day was long as most were, but the final bell that cut gym short was nothing short of a blessing. Coach Shaamah, the legendary hardass, had been riding Andrew's proverbial tail for most of the period, barking orders at his favorite personal punching bag until he was blue in the face. Andrew thought the man singled him out simply for the casual friendship he shared with his son Zetsubo, who shared the same period and who oftentimes, received worse treatment than any other in the class.
He had a few choice words for his friend in the locker room, and they shared a cynical laugh at the expense of Zetsubo's short-fused father. While there wasn't anyone to go home too most days, Andrew counted himself lucky he didn't have to go back to a parent like that. He'd take an absent father over an dick-hole one any day.
After changing back into his school uniform, he returned to the rack on which his bike was locked.
He saw her there in the parking lot as he fumbled with the lock to his bike, leaning against the hood of her cherry red convertible -- some gaudy thing that screamed, I'm worth more than you'll make in your life peasant. She smoked a cigarette. He caught her eye, sure that she was watching him. For a moment, he was silent and unsure of what to say, if anything at all. Keeping one's head down didn't include speaking up.
"I, uh --" he tugged at the collar of his button down. "I like your art," he told her.
Thu Jan 10, 2019 1:59 am
The sun was unusually warm against her back for the time of year. It made her almost wish for her shades to shield herself from its glare. With the sun behind her though, it gave her an advantage, made her appear larger.. more ethereal. People had to squint to properly see her.
Awareness surged through her body. Her prey exited along with the wretch of a boy who had the infinite misfortune to claim their delightful coach as a father.
Coiled in wait, she watched him steadily. Unease grew in him, by how he hunched his shoulders and ducked his head. She was sure the hairs on his neck must be rising. Gracelessly fumbling with his bike. Ahh, there it was. Finally her prey turned to face her, catching her eyes. Helena blinked slowly, a small smile teasing the corners of her mouth. His dragging feet allowed the parking promenade to mostly empty as students either ran for the bus, sped away in their cars or biked like himself, perfect.
The plan was a simple one, nevertheless it was effective. Intimidate the apprehensive young man into complete silence with implied threats, promises of a ruined grade-sheet. Helena was very good friends with Elphaba. Implications would be all she needed.
He deftly threw a wrench into her streamlined idea.
Helena's head pulled back, surprise colored her expression. For a few fragile seconds she blinked uncertainly, as though unsure what to do with such a compliment. Then it was gone, walled over smoothly with the empty smile. Still... she couldn't quite part black lips to harass him as she had intended.
Instead, eyebrows soared,
"You liked mon talent artistique?" She scrutinized his face, searching for falsity. He didn't seem capable of the social games she was so adept at playing. He'd mostly seen dicks, and some not so christian scenes. Was he gay? She thought not.
"Merci... ah.. thank you."
This time the smile was more genuine, almost salacious.
Mon Jan 14, 2019 3:45 pm
That disarmed look that spread across her brow, he recognized it; genuine surprise. Perhaps she had not expected Andrew to speak, for he rarely did. Had she expected to hold this over his head? To intimidate him into silence for fear of social suicide. Had it been another, someone better connected with the "in crowd," Helena's social pull could have been a lot more terrifying. Should her secrets come out, Helena had much, much more to lose than Andrew ever did.
Yet, Andrew was conflicted. For as much as he wanted to tear the pretty little rich girl's neatly constructed world apart with a cock shaped wrecking-ball, he too wanted to feel like he belonged in it. The fallible, human desire to no longer feel like an outsider looking in overwrote reason. It was something he was ashamed to admit, but he held his tongue.
Bike untethered, Andrew slipped the lock over the handle bar. "Yeah," Andrew nodded, looking away. "I mean -- I just didn't think you'd be a dick drawer, you know?" It was high school. Drawn dicks on notebooks were a common sight. One could say they were a lynchpin in the campus culture, however, Helena certainly wasn't the typical offender. Too proper.
Yet, while the notebooks content was interesting enough, something else had piqued Andrew's interest. He'd seen something real -- a small, yet revealing window into one of the school's most prestigious students, and part of him wanted to dig deeper. However, Andrew lacked the courage to ask about more.
"I should -- I should probably go," he said before mounting the seat of his bike.
Wed Jul 17, 2019 7:46 pm
She was aware of how precipitously she stood, if her threats had splashed against an un-moving wall then her own reputation would be tattered. Possibly she'd be dragged before the Headmistress himself, and as much as Helena liked Elphaba, she had no desire to tangle with Salvia Eternity.
A tension flickered, both stood at odds, knowing that the other could bring their social downfall.
There was a torrid part of her that desired for the fall from grace, how her father would be embarrassed, shamed. It was a delicious consideration, and Helena almost spat out her threats again right then and there just to watch it all combust.
It would burn so prettily.
Again he interrupted the plan, and this time her smile did grow into something almost honest, he was almost interesting.
"Zhere is a lot about me you are not knowing." It came from her mouth like a secret spent between friends, which they were not.
Rather than acerbic sarcasm, she reached out to his imminent departure with an airy wave, almost as it dismissing a servant from his duties of entertaining herself.
With his disappearance, Helena finally slid into the seat of her red baby and grasped the steering wheel with both hands, sighing inside. A rumble and a mechanical snarl and she was gone, speeding away from the school and its occupants.
Running from her problems.
Click, click, click, ticked the indicator. The wheel swung wide to the right, and a large sign proclaiming 'Tantramar Park' flashed by her. Down by the water's edge she settled herself onto the fragrant grass -- here was where the Pictou River widened enough that its opposite bank was almost not visible to the eye, a faint smudge of green on the horizon.
Out came the infamous Book of Dicks, and away again went her pencil, this time not engaging in tracing the turgid lines of yet another phallic reference. A snapshot of the park with its verdant beauty described in the grey-scale of pencil lines bloomed to life. Helena bent over her book and lost the world, with only herself, her pencil and the small piece of park that was her model.