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 Posted: Mon Nov 02, 2009 11:30 am
Ellie's manners ended with her handshake. Without even thinking about it, she blurted out "Good cardio? Dude, you sound like such a chick!" She laughed as if it was something you were supposed to laugh at and followed the senior to the work table. She couldn't help but wonder what his blueprints for this particular spice rack was going to look like. It would probably be about as organized as his piles of wood (which were not organized at all).
The girl pulled up a stool and sat herself down on it with her legs spread out (in a fashion similar to a guy) rather than crossed. "Dad's a used car salesman, Mum's a secretary. Can't call it an interest on m'own though. Dad's friend is a mechanic. I used t'hang out with Hank all th'time when I was growin' up, and I kinda picked it up from 'im." She paused and once more gave the piles of wood a look over. Hank would have had a fit at the lack of organization with even simple piles of wood like this.
"M'dad and Hank donate parts and stuff to the school fer the various shops 'ere."
Another pause.
"So where the hell are yer plans, Charlie?"
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Posted: Thu Nov 05, 2009 1:18 pm
Charlie might have anticipated this question as he stood there, shoving wooden blocks around like some kind of brain teaser puzzle: make these geometric shapes into the shape of a house! If Ellie stayed around too much longer, she'd not only figure out that he had no idea how to make a spice rack, but that he had no intention of wasting the wood he'd gathered on pretending to make a spice rack, either.
(His father had helped him make a spice rack for his mother three years ago: she didn't need one. Everyone made a spice rack for their mother at some point, Charlie figured, it was a classic gift. Like socks and fruit cake. That was just common knowledge.)
"Memorized," he blurted out, forcing a smile. "That's great that you got the chance to learn from someone in the trade, though. My mom's a retired college professor and my dad's a psychiatrist -- but I don't think shrinking heads would be a good hobby for me to pick up, I don't know." He grabbed a folded-over piece of sandpaper from the next table over and began softening off some of the more splintered edges of the wood. If worse came to worst, he'd make up some other 'confession' about what he was really making. A weapon to fend off drug dealers, maybe. You never knew when drug dealers might spontaneously attack.
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Posted: Thu Nov 05, 2009 1:56 pm
She continued to watch with amused interest. This guy really had no idea what he was doing, and it was becoming more and more evident with each minute that passed by.
"Yer a weird guy," she pointed out as if it were a widely accepted fact. She shrugged and put her goggles back on. As if she was going to get back to what she had been working on, she turned and began to walk. However, her conscious must have gotten the better of her, for she turned around again after about 6 steps.
"...'ey, Charlie! Ya know where all the safety equipment is? Yer not goin' t'be able t'use the saws and stuff 'nless yer up t'par on the safety procedures." Though she didn't say anything beyond that, her body seemed ready to come back to the senior's work area, making her assumption quite obvious.
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Posted: Sat Nov 07, 2009 5:08 pm
Charlie's hopes lifted when she walked away, then sank when she turned back. "I know how to use shop equipment," he shrugged -- he only planned on using a hammer and nails, and maybe a power drill. Easy. "But maybe if you could show me where they keep the safety glasses?"
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Posted: Sat Nov 07, 2009 5:30 pm
Turning back to face him, she pointed towards a particular cabinet in the room. "You'll find them in there, second drawer from th'top. Also, yer probably going t'need t'tie yer hair back. It's too long fer shop standards!"
The blonde girl shrugged, figuring he'd probably ignore that rule. Most guys with hair about his length usually did when a teacher wasn't around. The rule simply stated if it was long enough to tie back, you had to do that. Charlie's hair was nowhere near the length that Ellie's hair was and wouldn't cause any problems. Yet, thems the rules was her thoughts on the subject.
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Posted: Tue Nov 10, 2009 8:14 am
Charlie, who was the sort of person who had a general appreciation for rules, unzipped his backpack and dug around in it till he produced a baseball cap embroidered with the mysterious words PIG CITY. He bent forward at the waist till his hair flopped over his head, then scooped it all up into the baseball cap and stood again. The inevitable hat-head that was waiting for him on the other side of this venture was unfortunate, but sacrifices had to be made in the name of homemade weaponry.
"Alright, I think I'm set, so," he crossed over to the cabinet where the safety goggles lived. "I'll let you get back to your work, yeah? I've, uh, got a lot to do." Tightening the elastic band of the goggles around the back of his head, with the PIG CITY hat on, he still looked like a jock, but -- kind of a doofy one. "Good luck with your motorcycle."
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Posted: Tue Nov 10, 2009 7:10 pm
Ellie grinned at his alternate solution. There was no teacher around to dispute it, since hats weren't usually allowed in class. No teacher, no big problem. Saluting the boy casually, she said "Sure, you have fun with yer little spice rack!"
She spun around once more and headed back to where she had been working. Once again, the sound of the dremmel went off. She worked hard, concentrated hard, and made some good progress. It took time, but eventually she was at a point where she was satisfied 100% with her work. Where ever Charlie was in the progression of his project, he had ample warning when Ellie was finished, for the background noise ceased.
Taking off all her safety equipment, the girl walked towards the entrance to the shop, passing Charlie on the way out.
"So, how's it goin'?" she beamed slightly before truly taking a look at his work. After all, she was curious how that wood was going to make a spice rack.
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Posted: Mon Nov 16, 2009 2:43 pm
"Ha ha," he said, not too convincingly. "It's going well! I'm just finishing up. Only I have to confess to you, Ellie, I wasn't actually making a spice rack. You see -- " He had spent the entire time they were apart thinking up this lie, in case she was still around when he finished. She was, so now he had to use it. "I didn't want anyone around here to know this, 'cause I'm kind of an athlete, but the Barren Pines transfer applications window closes tomorrow and I was applying -- and I just found out to get into their art program, I have to submit at least one 3-dimensional art piece as well as my 2-D portfolio. But if people found out..."
Charlie knew he wasn't a great actor, so he compensated for what was probably a weak facial expression by looking down at his shoes like some of the shy kids did. "So yeah, it's kind of this post-modern thing, it's sort of a treatise on ancient tools and technology in the modern world of consumer overproduction. It's only a scale model, the real thing would be about three stories and an amalgam of wood and steel I-beams." He had no idea what anything he was saying meant, but it sounded suitably arty. "What do you think?"
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Posted: Mon Nov 16, 2009 2:55 pm
Ellie was far from gentle. She was far from being the artistic type. She was the sort of girl who liked functional things (with the exception of her punk clothing). So as she eyed the project which looked nothing like a Spice Rack and listened to the explanation, she seemed to have more of an analytical expression on her face that had a hint of disinterest in it. Upon being prompted of her opinion, she said in a very plain tone "Looks like crap."
She shrugged her shoulders, then looked the jock over. Something seemed a bit off, but she wasn't going to ask about it. Artistic jocks were contradictions, and seeing such a well toned guy being shy was gag-worthy.
Shrugging once again without much of a reason to, she lifted up a hand and waved. "Whatever, jus' make sure ya clean up after yerself."
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Posted: Mon Nov 16, 2009 3:02 pm
Charlie, who had been making a bludgeoning weapon and not remotely a scale model for a sculpture or anything else remotely artistic, still felt irrationally hurt that she had insulted his artistic statement on modern society, entirely fabricated though it was. What if it hadn't been? He could've made a post-modern sculpture if he really wanted to.
But, in the end, he was relieved to have escaped the encounter intact. "Thanks for your vote of confidence," he said a bit sourly, wiping off the last vestiges of sawdust with a chamois cloth. "See you later, Ellie."
After she'd left, and he'd finished wiping down his workbench, he tossed his hat back into his bookbag, zipped it closed, and threw it over his shoulder. Charlie took his cudgel in one hand, tested its weight -- nice, hefty -- and propped that against the same shoulder like a baseball bat.
" 'Looks like crap' my a**," he muttered, turning off the lights behind him as he went. "What does she even know about art."
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