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Posted: Mon Nov 09, 2009 8:26 pm
Art class started off the way it normally would. The teacher had told the students to turn to their next blank page in their large drawing pads and to loosen up. This meant you had to draw random shapes and squiggles of all sorts of sizes. You weren't meant to draw an actual picture, you were just supposed to put charcoal pencil to thin newspaper print paper and see what happened. Nothing spectacular. This exercise usually lasted 5 to 10 minutes, depending on the mood the art teacher was in.
It was about minute number 3 when Yvette took a moment to glance at what she had drawn. So far, it looked like a trail of squiggles, going on a strange path across the page, intersecting at various points, with one or two vaguely recognizable shapes. One portion almost looked like it could have been a lady sitting, but that really hadn't been the dark haired girl's intent.
One of these days, she'd just plaster her wall with all these strange doodles and see what sort of creation she could make. Nodding her head silently to confirm this thought in her mind, she once again put her charcoal pencil to the newsprint and began to shape in various oblong circles and ovals.
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Posted: Mon Nov 09, 2009 10:12 pm
Art classssss. It was totally and completely the highlight of Frankie's day, of Frankie's every day, even on those days that she's asked to sit in the corner and think about what she's done, and the fact that she has to use the plastic kiddy scissors because she can't be trusted. They cut! It was a long, drawn out process, which actually suited Frankie a lot more than something that would be fast-- Frankie enjoyed the journey, especially when it concerned pointy objects.
Frankie loved tacks.
Anyway, the object of the day was to "loosen up"-- which was never a good idea to tell to Frankie, because her pictures inevitably turned in to large black holes with two eyes staring out of them. Her drawing pad was dented from her harsh scribbles, the pages torn in some places when her exhuberance sort of went a little further than what the teacher was comfortable with. The unsettling giggles that usually proceeded a completed "doodle", followed by a long drawn out rrripppp as Frankie moved on to her next page always put the kids on edge. The art teacher had begun carrying the meter stick with her at all times. Just in case.
Just as an aside, there are bite marks on the meter stick. And the art teacher's hands tremble as she passes Frankie. But Frankie thinks they are GREAT friends.
So wrapped up in what she was doing, Frankie accidentally snapped her pencil in two, and the bottom half fell and rolled under the table currently occupied by a girl with dark purple hair. Frankie scuttled along the ground, hunting for her pencil like a cat, practically pouncing on it, and pulled herself up from under the table halfway, and laid her head next to Yvette's drawing.
"Whatcha workin on?" Frankie asked in a hurried whisper, noting that the teacher was heading their way, "OH MANNNNN THANK YOU FOR SAVING MY PENCIL I HAD LOST IT AND I THOUGHT JACOB HAD STOLEN IT, THE b*****d TOTALLY WOULD HAVE."
Frankie sort of yelled this, as if yelling what she was doing forgave her for disrupting what was supposed to be quiet time. Also no boy in the class was named Jacob, just that all bad things were named Jacob.
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Posted: Tue Nov 10, 2009 9:45 pm
You know that feeling in the back of your neck you can get when something weird was about to happen?
Yvette got that feeling along the back of her neck about two seconds before Frankie's head popped up next to her practice page. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on edge as there was a sudden announcement of that strange girl's presence.
"Oh, u-uhm!" she stuttered out, first glancing to the invader, then to the teacher as she made her rounds, then back to Frankie. Of course, her mind went immediately to asking the obvious "WHO IS THIS JACOB?!!!" However, Yvette didn't even hint towards this question.
Her tiny voice eventually attempted to sort this situation out, but her measly attempts were laughable. "U-uh, i-it's no problem... uhhhh... w-why don't you get back to work on the exercise?" The dark haired girl couldn't even look the other student in the eyes. That girl's eyes were just a bit too off for her taste. Yet as Frankie's eyes obviously looked through her VERY SOUL, she could feel the dark hair on the back of her neck stand on end again.
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Posted: Fri Nov 13, 2009 1:58 am
"Oh no no no," Frankie said happily, pulling herself up the rest of the way, and making her way back to her desk, "no no no no no no no no no no no no MY DEAR YVETTE. You and I, we have much work to do. I have chosen you," Yvette knew Frankie. Yvette knew that this did not bode well.
If Yvette did not know this, she was about to discover why.
"I shall work with Yvette now, sensei, ma'am, sir. There is much work, such great work to be done, we can't yet waste another minute." Frankie gathered up her pencils and pads of paper, and hooked her foot under her stool to drag it on the opposite side of Yvette.
Their teacher went back to her desk, sat down, and reached inside her desk for her Tylenol 3s.
"Oh Yvette, my darling, I am so sorry I have no lavished my attention on you that is entirely not fair. We shall create a beautiful image, our child, and you shall name it and I shall tenderly care for it."
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Posted: Fri Nov 13, 2009 10:43 am
Oh GOD, the rumors were true, and this nightmare was about to attach itself to Yvette. She could feel the color drain from her cheeks. In the back of her mind, she debated asking the teacher if she could head to the nurse's office for the rest of class. The teacher would understand, right?! Seriously, look at the teacher there, taking her pills to cope! Yvette felt as if she deserved such a right for coping with Frankie.
Unfortunately, it was too early in class to make such a request. Other students had tried it before. Other students had failed before. Frankie always got her victims. Yvette's poor little heart nearly stopped from sheer fear of what would be in store for herself. For her, the most disturbingly scary part was that Frankie was calling a collaboration a "child" of all things.
"Uh... um... d-don't worry about it..." her tiny voice squeaked out. Hoping to buy some time, she half asked, half chirped "I-if this c-could wait until after class...?" Her fingers were no longer drawing, and as she awkwardly fumbled around with the pencil between her fingers, the tool fell to the ground.
She had heard sudden movements frequently provoked Frankie. Yvette hoped that rumor was far from true.
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