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 Posted: Sun Dec 13, 2009 4:33 pm
Simon Ferris was terrible at breaking rules.
Normally the very idea of being anything other than well-behaved and well-adjusted according to the very plain and strict boundaries Hillworth drew for its students was something that never even crossed his mind. The meager handful of times he actually did manage to get in trouble were because his dormmates or someone else had talked or dragged him into something, or he was otherwise led to bad situations by a trail of mistakes and misunderstandings. It was never through any malice, or even of his own accord, that any of the black marks on his record had gotten there.
He was a good kid. Predictable. Or at least that's how it was supposed to be with him - lately things had changed a bit, for some reason. Simon had been skipping curfew and sneaking off campus at odd hours of the night. Alone. And his tracks couldn't have been more obvious if they had been glowing in the dark. It was clear he had no clue what he was doing without Ferguson or MacFern around to herd him along.
It was only a matter of time before he got caught, really.
Simon sat and waited in Killingworth's office, alone and still and quiet as if he were just a new addition to the furniture, green eyes emptily focused on the edge of the desk. He looked terrible. His face was bruised and battered, which suggested that he'd gotten smacked around by someone recently, or perhaps he'd just tripped into the supply closet again. Both of these things happened to him often enough that it could be considered a typical look for him. He typically looked awful.
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Posted: Tue Dec 15, 2009 10:17 am
Simon Ferris did not know a number of things. One of them was about how to break out. The other was about how not to get beaten up. The last was that Gunn Killingworth was on more painkillers than a Stepford housewife, and that when he blearily took in the tall, beat-up form of Simon Ferris, he nearly just ordered the buttmonkey out of his office again. He was sitting back, one shoulder louchely dropped (the one that Kunzite had put a blade through) and the other tapping on the desk, looking the green-eyed boy directly... well, not really directly... in the eye.
He cleared his throat.
"Look," he said. "It's obvious. You have yourself a little girlfriend, or somebody's been blackmailing you. I'm so ******** uninterested in either that you wouldn't even goddamn believe it. And I don't want to see your weepy little ******** again in my detentions now or ever. What does it take for you to not sneak your shitty, retarded, cowardly little a** out again?"
If he hadn't been so high, he might have been more suspicious, but -- it was Simon Ferris.
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Posted: Tue Dec 15, 2009 6:30 pm
It wouldn't have mattered to the boy how many opiates Killingworth happened to be strung up by at this moment in time; Simon's reaction still would have been the same. Namely, right when the first footsteps reached his ears his fingers curled into tight knots against his knees and his lips furled into his teeth-- there was a buckling in his posture as he fought off the urge to curl inward, it was a struggle to not just allow himself to crumple over the uncomfortable desk he'd sat himself in.
When the man sat down, Simon's eyes tried to creep upward, but the moment they caught the hint of a dreadlock his gaze dropped back to the desk.
The waiting silence-- there was the heavy drumming of large fingers on the desk, but a distinct absence of speech-- it was unbearable. He clenched his jaw, and swallowed, something he felt too much of and was sure Killingworth had heard.
He was cringing when he finally spoke; his voice was unusually level and calm, but that's what made it so unnerving. It was like swimming out into a still lake with the full knowledge a family of crocodiles lurked beneath the surface, it was only a matter of time before you were suddenly pulled under and thrashed to pieces.
Simon didn't give an answer. Instead his eyes slowly rolled across the length of the desk before dropping off to the floor, where he gave a desperate look to a cockroach he found there.
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Posted: Thu Dec 17, 2009 12:24 am
Silence spread out in the office like olive oil. It saturated into the cracks and the wrinkles of the room as Gunn Killingworth stared at him and as Simon stared at the erstwhile cockroach, who unfortunately then checked himself into the roach motel that was carefully placed at the side of the room. And he knew that he was still staring. And the stillness was spiralling out from unbearable to untenable.
"Going to say a word in your defence?" said the gym teacher. "Or are you just going to sit there like someone with a d**k in your mouth? I'm giving you a chance here. Listen. Tell me about why I shouldn't have you cleaning the gym floor with your tongue like it's the most ******** delicious thing you've ever tasted. I know you're a pathetic little ********, Ferris." He was flexing his fingers slowly, in, out, in, out. "Who're you sneaking out for."
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Posted: Thu Dec 17, 2009 12:54 pm
Distraction, gone, left to starve to death in an adhesive-lined cardboard contraption. Simon's gaze skittered over the floor, up the walls and shelves, everywhere in the room that wasn't the space Gunn Killingworth was occupying. He was desperate to have something for his eyes to cling to so he wouldn't feel the dreadful obligation to actually look at the man deriding him-- he settled, finally, on the desk he was seated at.
Some daring, foolish soul who'd been in here before him had angrily carved
He was a terrible liar, even when the lie was technically at least half true-- but it would have been even worse if he'd answered with I don't know.
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