(((ooc: I know I said this before, but I can't help but to repeat it, since I hate making people wait for me for very long, but at the moment, 95% of my time awake is spent at Sweden Rock Festival, and so while I do check in to read posts and PMs daily, ones actually written by me will be scarce until Sunday/early next week. )))


His reputation as a criminal and for being involved in racketeering notwithstanding, Tyler Young was also known for being a generally friendly guy; someone fairly easy for most people, regardless of gender and background, to get along with, with a good sense of humour, a laid-back attitude, and no actual need to assert himself as the big bad wolf he was rumoured to be, by talking tough or picking fights with anyone that happened to cross his path, intentionally or otherwise. If someone bumped into him, he was actually more likely to stop and make sure they were alright, than he was to want to wring their neck on the spot for inconveniencing him, or to verbally abuse them somehow. And despite his rugged exterior, there tended to be this boyish twinkle in his eye, of mischief just waiting to happen, that upon closer inspection might make it difficult to think of him as no more than a rogue. After all, aside from his lean, muscular frame, the telltale scars on his visage, and the reputation attached to his person, there was little to allude to the more dangerous aspect of his being. And it wasn't even due to him trying to hide anything, or pretend to be more innocent and amiable than he was, in order to consciously make himself a wolf in sheep's clothing, and thus mislead people to think he was harmless. To most people he really was harmless, unless of course he was given good reason not to be, and his smiles - open, bountiful, and utterly disarming - tended to be perfectly genuine in nature. Heck, even those who from experience knew him to actually be a big, bad wolf, often found it hard to dislike him or speak ill of him, simply because he had such a pleasant way about him that made him hard not to like. Even when he was planting his fist in your gut.

It was usually only people like Zane Morris, and others who were simply too dense to register a warning when delivered with anything less than straightforward violence, who got to see the not-so-friendly side of him. Though even so, the general advice would still remain not to get on his bad side, because considering how mean a punch he packed when still being fairly sympathetic, you really did not want to find out what it was like when he felt less inclined to be. Nor did you want to disappoint or anger him enough for him to possibly mention your name to his employers.
Not that they were likely to care much, since they had bigger and better things to focus on, and would let Tyler deal with his own headaches, but you never know... In cases such as this, the wise would rather be safe than sorry.

But anyway, because of his carefree nature, his down to earth attitude about the various cliques (or rather, his disregard for their largely self-imposed rules for socialising), and the small business he ran, he was used to being approached by all kinds of people, and with the vast difference between the aforementioned factors, had made a habit of not making actual assumptions regarding their reasons, until they'd had the chance to present them to him. Something which the pretty brunette just claiming the seat opposite of him was about to do;

"I'm Natalie, by the way", she said as her glossed lips curved into a polite yet far from impersonal smile, to which Tyler responded only with a short, casual "Tyler", without the handshake he'd offered the other girl, since Natalie seemed intent on continuing, by answering his question; "And no... I was hoping for somewhere more private."

She paused for a moment, while her gaze dipped briefly to the table surface, the look therein having grown yet a little more conspiratory once it returned to lock with his again, managing to draw a faint smirk from his lips all on it's own accord, as it left him able to sense the rest of what she had to say even before she said it;

"It's a little scandalous."

Scandalous... Tyler liked the sound of that. It indicated that what she was looking for was not to buy something from him, or borrow money, but that what she was interested in, was his expertise. Such prospects were refreshing, as they usually offered quite a bit of stimulation. And the prankster and the daredevil in him always did appreciate a challenge.
Yup, if by her choice of words, she had hoped to pique his interest, she had succeeded.

"Alright", he thus said, refraining from continuing immediately only because it was at that exact moment that the bell rang, marking the end of lunch.

Though once the signal had sounded, and the hustle and bustle of students hurrying off to class took over, he gave her a few swift instructions, since by now, thanks to his shadier dealings, he was used to arranging private face-to-face negotiations.

"Meet me by the girls' restroom on the second floor in a couple of minutes", he said, while leisurely rising from his seat. "If it's empty, wait inside. If not, outside."

Then he added, with a glance towards the students filtering out of the cafeteria, his gaze once again locking ever so briefly on that one particular redhead who, possibly unknowingly, had managed to attract the attention of his eyes quite a bit over the past couple of months;

"Unless, of course, you're in a hurry to get to class?"

Towards the end of the question, however, his gaze was back to resting casually on Natalie's slender form, and her intelligent eyes in particular, as if to guesstimate just how intent she might be to procure what he assumed was some kind of service from him.

As it would turn out, it seemed she was very determined indeed, and that the matter was, at least by her standards, fairly important, because rather than suggesting that they'd discuss it after class, she did agree to follow his instructions and meet him on the second floor in a few. Thus, with no further ado, the two of them went their separate ways, Tyler handed in his tray, and then left the cafeteria. First destination; his locker. He had to stop by there in order to pick up a little something that would help ensure the privacy that Natalie had requested. Once that was done, and a long, folded strip of yellow and black plastic was tucked into his one back pocket, he made his way towards the less populated part of the school, unhurriedly cruising between the last wave of students on their way to class, and took the stairs up to the second floor in a couple leaps, covering three or four of the stony steps at a time.

Much like expected, due to classes being about to start, the hallways there were practically empty, and upon turning the corner that made the little ladies' restroom come into his field of vision, he found that it too had to be empty, as he had given Natalie plenty of time to get there before him, and she was not waiting outside, thus signalling that the coast was clear for him to enter without risking setting off a cacophony of high-pitched squealing.
Before he did, however, he reached back into his back pocket to retrieve the strip of tape he'd brought with him, and fastened one end on the left side of the door, and one on the right, so that when the door drifted shut behind him, the tape stretched from one part of the door frame to the other, announcing "Out of order". It was a perfectly safe way of ensuring they wouldn't be disturbed, because even though what he had just done had all been caught by the security camera outside, there was no one watching the monitors, and so the only way anyone among the staff would notice, was if they went back to review the recordings, which they would have no reason to do, since there would be no blowing up of the toilets, or anything else that would call for any kind of administrative attention. Nor would the students be likely to care too much about it, since most of them were in class, and even those who were not would hardly find it an odd occurrence that the restroom was out of order. It was after all how Tyler had procured the tape in the first place.

Though he did still wish to be on the safe side, and so before he even acknowledged Natalie that stood waiting by the sinks a couple of feet away, he reached down and pulled out a stiletto from his inside his boot, fired it open, and wedged it into the small crack underneath the door so that it wouldn't open, and give anyone that might try to open it, the impression that it was locked.
Only once that was done did he straighten his back to look at Natalie, as though to signal that he was now ready to listen.

Katie didn't drink. Not because she didn't like it, her father had insisted that she try a bunch of different kinds so she would recognize what tasted different if it became necessary, and most of them tasted fine to her. She didn't not drink because she didn't want to get hung over, because well, she figured that that was the fair trade for rebelling against society's expectations for Ms. Braniac. No, the reason she didn't drink was because she was so damn sensitive. A large daquiri was enough to get her giggly, and she didn't have any knowledge of what her threshold was for when her iron self control would slip with tequila. All she knew was that it would be much, much lower.

When he took the bottle back he didn't move to let her out, and she supposed she had known that was coming. What he actually said shouldn't have surprised her, but it did. "What about Pene?"

Wasn't the fact that she'd just been sh*tless with fear enough to assure him of some degree of safety? That and the still rather undeveloped, but much weightier seeming threat that he'd made as they came into the closet? Iti didn't really matter, she figured she'd be kind of testy if the situations were reversed. But then again, given how testy she was now, it would still be an improvement.

"Don't worry about it," she said flippantly, "I'm completely convinced of your innocence." As usual, right as it came out of her mouth she realied it was the wrong thing to say. He knew full well that she knew that he was responsible for the prank, but she wasn't going to do anything about it. It was hardly as if clearing Penny's name completely was her only option to help her friend after all, given how much the guidance counselor's trusted her, and given what a bad job Laramie did of hiding his passwords.

“Right, and I'm f***ing Ricky Martin.”

She was about to comment that Ricky Martin seemed like he could do better, but he added before she could decide if that was prudent, "I meant that as an adjective".

And then he passed her the bottle of tequila again. Dammit, was he trying to get her drunk? She took another tiny sip, hating the sensation, not of the alcohol, but of not really having much say in the matter. She passed it back, and tried to back up, but there was that shelf again. He wasn't nearly as threatening as before, she just... didn't want to be near the nasty alcohols, and whatever leftover nitrogen compounds were floating in there, and Esteban himself. So she hopped up and sat on the shelf, crossed her ankles demurely- and defensively, with a bit of lingering paranoia- and explained that there were other ways she could get Penny off the hook, that blaming someone else was just the easiest.

He pried, she said she could make the suspension go away, he kept asking stuff, and Katie figured he was just looking for reassurance at this point. She told him that there was absolutely no animosity regarding the prank, and didn't go much deeper than that. He gave her the bottle twice more, and she started focusing on her breathing to keep the awkward sensation out, and her legs started swinging of their own accord. She wasn't drunk, not even tipsy, but it was better to start fighting it before it happened.

And then he took a sip, and changed the subject. “You know, mensa, you're pretty shitty at fighting for yourself.” He handed her the bottle and as she took it she glared a moment. She didn't like being told that she was bad. At anything. If someone told her she was bad at math, she would show them the sort of math she had had to do for her BS. If someone said she couldn't write, she would show them her book. If someone said she was bad at science, she would wear them down with trivia and theorems. If someone said she wasn't an athlete she'd shrug and take it. Dance was a sport, and it was hard, but they would split hairs longer than she would.

But it was accurate to say that she didn't know much about fighting, all she really knew was accidents that had happened at her dance studio- a fan kick landing anywhere was horribly painful, catching up to someone who did an alexander roll at the wrong time in the choreography was almost impossible, second position arms were hard to grip... And of course her studies in anatomy. If that fan kick was closer to a battement and it came into contact with any of the more fragile bones, they would probably break- ribs, manubrium, lower ulna and radius...

Esteban's voice interrupted her musings. “Don't you at least know how to choke someone out?”

"No..." Probably had something to do with making a trachea collapse... She doubted that it was actually physically strangling someone was what he was going for. So the trachea was right at the front of the neck, behind a thin muscle... enough force applied there would mean that it would invert painfully and stifle breathing, and maybe even break it.

"It's something to make the trachea collapse on its own right? I guess a flat hand, though you would get around it all the way with a jazz hand of some kind..."


((OOC: EDITED- good?
Maeve- I'll do a Loren post tomorrow))

The right time and place being somewhat of a constraint, what Natalie had said had been to advertise the project somewhat, in complete subtlety, much like the advertisements that rather cleverly started with “DON’T read this” and thereby getting you interested in reading it. Yeah, in one sense it was the forbidden fruit effect, or maybe it was the Pink Elephant theory, but either way, it usually worked and therefore, Natalie made use of subtle varieties of it in her articles and general management of the paper, as well as in her actions in life. Right now, being rather unable to unveil the sheer outrageousness of the plan right there and then in the cafeteria, she simply hinted at it.
She hoped it worked, because as things were, Tyler’s involvement was more or less a keystone.
And judging by the vague smirk weaving onto his lips before she spoke, he was liking it so far. So… she was right, he would most probably appreciate the challenge. Natalie liked that.

“Alright,” he conceded, only to then have anything else he was about to say be cut short by the impeccably timed bell wielding its innate ability to cut short any budding conspiracies. Well, trying, anyway, because Natalie wasn’t going to let it stop her.

"Meet me by the girls' restroom on the second floor in a couple of minutes,” he then instructed, rising out of his seat casually, leaving Natalie to be more assured in the stance that he’d done this multiple times before, which in turn improved her assessments of his abilities, because it wasn’t all that likely that he became proficient at arranging secret meetings that lead to nothing at all, and given that there was severe ambiguity surrounding what everyone did know, it was a good sign. Besides, all else aside, she was perfectly fine walking into the little girls’ room. “If it's empty, wait inside. If not, outside.”
Hell, Natalie would make sure it was empty. She was patient, but she wasn’t exactly a saint.
As his gaze surveyed the exodus of students, locking for a few seconds on one particular redhead – who Natalie only knew by her fierce reputation rather than any personal experience – who was, funnily enough, in the company of Leigh and J.D. Well… not exactly a big surprise, given that Natalie did know that Lilith and Leigh did keep each other’s company frequently, and with Leigh expressing her trust of Tyler pretty clearly, and with Tyler’s possible interest in Lilith, it did paint a picture of a tightly knit group, leaving Natalie to wonder how much she should watch her back, clearly being the outsider in this instance. Well, how much more, anyway. However, journalist suavity in full throttle, she didn’t let herself be caught following Tyler’s gaze, averting it to survey the rest of the crowd before Tyler’s gaze returned to settle on her, whereupon she returned it by locking eyes with him once more.
“Unless, of course, you're in a hurry to get to class?”

To this, Natalie simply looked amused. Yup, she certainly was the (supposed) goody-two-shoes amongst the established troublemakers and therefore, the checks to ensure that she wouldn’t have a coronary about missing five minutes of class were justified she supposed. Natalie couldn’t care less about being in class on time – she already knew the stuff, she knew she’d get the top grades, she knew she could talk her way out of detention for being late, and right now, her time was better invested in this project.
“I now have better plans for my time,” she thus replied with a slightly mischievous smile, accepting his instructions and then grabbing her stuff and taking her leave, eyes flicking over to the tray still over at the other table. Well, not her problem anymore.
She quickly wove her way through the zombie crowd absently navigating itself somewhere or another, not exactly in a grand hurry to get herself to the girls’ bathroom but still brisk in her speed as opposed to the others’, gracefully slipping between the shuffling bodies in the hallways and up the stairs, overtaking them with speed and strategy and finding herself soon pushing open the door of the second floor girls’ bathroom, amidst a few other girls making their way out, rushing over to class, finally finding the room empty save for one little hindrance.

Whatshername. Kellie Anderson, another citizen of the Orange County, due to the prolific use of the fake sun tan – honestly, gremlins came out to play in weather like this, and who did she think she was kidding pretending she’d been out sunbathing, when in fact, she’d just been spraying on the fake tan like nobody’s business, making herself look like a damn oompaloompa – standing there by the mirror with what was most definitely an entire vanity case, painting her face, supposedly just having finished with her hair, taking out strawberry coloured lipgloss and liberally sliding it on (though, admittedly with practiced skill), then moving onto the blusher.
Right. Natalie wasn’t going to waste time because of her and therefore, it really came down to getting her out of here before Tyler arrived. Though… now it would be funny if Kellie was left with the impression that Natalie and Tyler were meeting for more romantic purposes than business, and it’d definitely teach her not to shoot that dirty look one more time. Friends in high places and all that jazz.
However, Natalie could deal with this one all on her own and upon receipt of the attempted demeaning that the blonde shot at her, Natalie stared her down. Kellie looked away, and just on the principle of teaching her a lesson and getting her to leave as soon as possible, even if meant psyching her out, Natalie kept her gaze locked onto the other girl, leisurely leaning against the wall of the restroom, arms folded and a smug smile over her lips.
Vain little thing, wasn’t she?

“What?” Kellie turned around and snapped, again attempting to treat Natalie like something she scraped off her shoe… problem was, she was a little uncomfortable and it showed. When you’re trying to demean someone, you play tough, you don’t show discomfort, it ruins the show. Insecurity… that was why Kellie was wearing so much make-up and playing out the big ‘I am’. “What're you looking at?”

“Just wondering whether you're trying to look like a circus freak,” Natalie replied coolly, tilting her head in slight contemplation, always maintaining that air of superiority regardless of what Kellie did. Kellie stared for a second as if she wanted her eyes to shoot daggers at Natalie, then slamming the eyeliner held in her hands back into the case and storming out, shooting another dirty, debasing look at Natalie, coupling it with the oh so original insult of “Bitch” before she left, the latter simply following her movements with silvery golden eyes.
And there we go. Alone at last.

However, not long passed before Tyler remained true to his word and joined her in the restroom, leaving Natalie to wonder whether he’d evaded the cameras or whether he just didn’t care. Frankly, she did suppose it wasn’t that much of a big deal; these places were often used as a (tacky) spot for make out sessions and more and no school authority cared that much about it. However, when Tyler flipped open a knife from his boot, Natalie did shift a little, though out of interest rather than fear; had that knife seen much use in actual violence? Why did he have to carry it around in school? Habit or necessity? If necessity, Natalie doubted it was because Tyler needed to defend himself from anyone in school, but more to encourage any opposition in school to play nice. If habit, she had to admit her mind quickly conjured up images of the type of company that would forge such a habit. Well, call it digging the bad boy vibe, but Natalie couldn’t deny that, danger aside, it was definitely appealing that he could hold his own fort against that.
However, watching as he straightened up to his full height, turning to face her, ready to listen, Natalie did realise that he wasn’t exactly an unreasonable guy, because if that knife had seen use in school – and considering how belligerent certain members of the student body got – she would have most definitely heard about it and that he probably didn’t use it when there was a viable alternative.
However, the question still remained; would he use it and under what circumstances? Both questions not entirely salient to this topic and simply for her own curiosity, Natalie pressed on.

“Thanks for meeting me,” she began with courtesy, form her stance of leaning back against the counter, palms pressed down on it’s surface, supporting her upper body before she pushed off, standing on her own feet again.

“I was told that you’d be the man to go to for something of a more… exigent nature,” she started, folding her arms slightly as she took a couple of graceful steps towards him, knowing that he probably didn’t get many requests like this, mischief spreading over her features as she spilled what she wanted; “Something like getting Laramie’s wallet?”
She unfolded her arms, letting them drop to her sides as she gave a one sided shrug as if she ensure it wasn’t an irrational task; “Only for about five minutes or so.”

(((OOC:
Maeve - thank you! :D
Atropa - hope this works and hope you're having fun at the festival )))

"I'm forced to go to newspaper club. It's a requirement, supposedly. I might just hang out at the park or gym or something after school, til I'm supposed to be at home." Lea replied.

"Do you know what section you want to write for?" she asked, "Even if it's a...requirement." She gave a small smirk and wondered whether if really was a requirement or not. Last time she checked, you get to choose which activity you sign up for. Although, her parents could be forcing her... she thought as they arrived to the door to Bio.


((I know what you mean, I'm running out of ideas too. XD))

It never ceased to amaze Loren how varied people were. Even when he thought he knew them perfectly well, knew them as well as a character that he had taken and internalized completely, they would do things that would surprise him, or just that he had no explanation for. It was marvelous.

Like Lacey. He'd known her for almost three years now, and they'd been the best of friends for most of that, but sometimes she was just so delightfully random! Like now. Why was she blushing? Was it some sort of deep pathos stemming from a repressed memory of getting a lousy part, or worse, being an extra, from before she moved here? Was it allergies? Even in winter, this close to the grass and near the school's garden there was pollen.

He didn't even know if she was breathing... it didn't sound like it, but then again, he didn't usually listen. Except that she had convinced him to go swimming with her once the summer after sophomore year, and he'd become quite enchanted by the sound of her breathing. It wasn't something that he actively sought to listen to, but when they were this close, he should have been able to hear it, right? So it was probably allergies.

Which would explain why she sprang to her feet like she'd just been eaten by a cat, to get away from the new pollen blowing over from the crocuses and the early spring hibiscus. Her face was really red, and Loren sat up, looking a bit concerned. He hadn't even known she had allergies...

Her voice was really high when she said, "Um, yes, thanks, but, um - we should get going! We should get to class." She did tend to be a lot less laid back about school then he was, but getting shrill about it? It was just one more facet... allergies made her squeaky apparently.

He had gotten up to a half sitting up position when she'd gotten up, like the girls in gym class who couldn't do a push up and didn't bother taking their knees off the ground, and sprang lightly to his feet to follow her. Glancing at his watch out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the bell was going to ring in a couple of seconds. As usual with only a tiny amount of time to come up with and deliver something, he managed. "Yeah, the bell should be ringing any second now-" And there is was, the bell ringing, making the entire quad freeze for an instant, and then move like an overturned anthill to go to class.

He smiled that same irrepressible smile at her, reveling for an instant in the fact that he'd been able to time that right- he'd wanted to use that line for ages- and they started walking to class in that same unbelievable loud buzz of the hallways. They passed Natalie's locker and Loren half wanted to peek in through the grille of the locker to see if the flower was there, but knew that that would be in bad taste, since he was in company.

And besides which, he didn't really want to. He was with a good friend, auditions were an unannounced soon for one of the best musicals ever, and how could he do anything but smile at Lacey, every student passing by, and the ugly paint on the lockers?

As long as he was thinking about the musical... "So, you excited for Rocky Horror?" It wasn't really a question, Loren was physically incapable of imagining any reason for someone to not be excited for Rocky Horror, but he figured that if that was how the seniors started thier elaborate casting rituals, then it would work here too.

((OOC: Hope that's okay with you?))

The chick didn't say a word in the time it took Mitch to breeze on by, but he wasn't too concerned. He could find her later if she wanted to be found, and if she didn't, then it was a waste of time to hang out with her. And besides which, the first bell had rang, and Mrs. Jaym had warned him that she would call his mother if he blew off her class one more time, and she had then warned him that if he got in trouble with his schoolwork one more time, then he was off the team, never going out til he got straight A's or anything.

So he walked by Whatshername, having greeted and been ignored, and got to class a couple of minutes before second bell was due to ring. At least he wasn't the first one to class, a couple of times he had been and he knew that it was only some uncharacteristic self control on Gavin and Mark's part that he hadn't been mocked as a nerd, and only a long and devoted internalization of jock-ness that had prevented any nerds from commenting.

As he sat down to unpack his binder Mrs. Jaym walked up to him. "Hey, I'm on time, I did my homework, what the heck?" he said petualantly. She wrinkled her nose like she was wondering why in heaven's name she had chosen to teach a class that everyone, from those freakish little geniuses like Katie Byrd and Donnie Kang to the Grade D morons like him, had to take.

"The guidance counselors have scheduled you to have some private tutoring." Mitch mentally translated- "I had to work my ass off to get your sub-CroMangnon brain out of my class, but I managed. I feel really sorry for whatever poor idealistic kid gets stuck with you."

"Okay?" he said, and started putting his binder away again.

Mrs. Jaym told him that he would be meeting his tutor, Dylan in the science prep room, and that he should take his stuff. It really didn't matter who his tutor was, at least this one was some guy, so he could probably intimidate him into just speaking glowingly, and giving him test answers.

He walked over to the science prep room and sat down, to doodle out that play that he and Mark and Gavin had discussed at lunch. Each little B and X was carefully, meticulously considered. If B did this... then X would do this to counter, so another B had to go... and then he was quite throughly entranced marking out the full field.

((OOC: Alissa, I hope that's okay with you?))

Pull yourself together, Dylan.

The scarce slivers of sunlight pierced down on the snow covered grass, the brilliant and uneven whiteness scattering the sun’s warmth away from it, creating a divide, the warmth in the sky and the coldness in the ground, amidst the almost empty open land standing a lone figure hugging herself against the icy winds whipping itself against the exposed skin, infiltrating the fabric of her dress to make it’s presence known.
She really should have thought to bring a coat.
A gush of cool air flooded her lungs as she straightened herself up with resolution; standing out here wasn’t solving anything, but it did help calm her down slightly.

She still had to apologise to Matt for what she’d said. It really hadn’t been what she’d meant but, right then, there hadn’t been any other way to put it without hurting Mark even more. In hindsight, she had to admit that she hadn’t really though that much at all through it’s entire fiasco. Worst thing was, she’d messed things up with Mark, and that had been the case for quite a while now, but chances were, she’d also lost a really good friend. She didn’t need Matt’s shoulder to cry on – and frankly, she should have known better than to use Matt as a pick me up the last time around – but she did want him as a friend still.
So, that was two people left that she had to apologise to; Matt and Madison.

Though… now really wasn’t the best time for it. Admittedly, she did have to talk to Matt before talking to Madison, to explain it to him before she ended up selling him out to his girlfriend; he also deserved the opportunity to talk to Madison first, given that he was the one going out with her at the time and whatever was going wrong between them, Matt had the right to reason it out with her first.
Wait, wait… was she just stalling from sorting out the situation herself?
No. No… it was right to give Matt that opportunity before speaking to Madison herself. It’ll be alright.

She also had the arrangements for the dance to finalise, being social chair… oh, that was going to be interesting when she knew that chances were, everyone would be talking about what happened; Madison would have told them by then. Fair enough, she would be angry, but it didn’t make it easier for Dylan to stand there and take it. But, she did make her bed and she’d have to lie in it.

She turned her head slightly, looking over her shoulder, suddenly finding herself entirely alone in the quad, looking inexplicable awkward all by herself. Damn. She’d completely forgotten about the message she’d gotten earlier, that she was tutoring… God, who was it…. Mitchell Gaithers. She probably did know him, but not too well, given that Dylan wasn’t all that prone to forgetting a face or name that she’d had at least one conversation with. Well, either way, she’d know in about five minutes, hurrying over to her locker, pulling out the file she kept for Biology, and some of the notes she’d made for it; Dylan was a bright girl, but her A grades didn’t materialise without any effort put into them, and that was part of why she’d taken up tutoring in the first place, because all it usually needed was a little bit of effort.
Flicking through it, she headed over to the science prep room not running into anyone despite her lack of concentration because there were few people there to run into, moving into the room, still immersed in the file before she looked up, seeing who's company she was in.

Mitch. Watching him sat atop a stool, absently drawing, she remembered meeting him, a while back, and she remembered seeing him around Mark a lot. Oh, God, how awkward was this going to be? Dylan had very little against Mitch - though, it had to be said that she didn't know all that much about the guy, what with her habit of not hanging around with Mark's friends because he'd always made her feel so... objectified in their company - but she didn't know how weird it be for him, or for Mark, or for her.
Well, that all aside, she did commit to giving the guy help in Biology and that she'll do; it wasn't his fault she'd made a mess of things with Mark. And if Mitch decided that he didn't want her tutoring him, then that was his decision.
Wasn't going to be easy, though.

"Hey," she greeted warmly, brightening up a little, the enthusiasm at helping him make a difference to his grades shining through - after all, to require tutoring, things couldn't be all that great, but here was a chance to change that - as she moved further into the room, placing the file down on the desk and taking her seat opposite him. She wasn't sure if he remembered her and so she extended a slender hand out to him; "I'm Dylan."

(((OOC: Works fine for me, Furry. Hope this is all okay with you

Will post Josh soon (he's most approachable by the way ) and start Bio )))

Mitch was just killing time by drawing out the play, but then again, knowing Gavin, he would try and present the meticulously complex thing in monosyllables and not even try to draw a diagram. It would help Coach Benwick if there was one, and he didn't need another blank sheet of looseleaf.

As he was nearing the end of the diagram he heard the door open, but didn't look up. It was probably one of the senior aides, here to make copies, or one of the teachers who had been well trained by their senior aide. The tutors were almost always late, fishing for information from the teachers, or going into a nerdly fit of horror at the belated realization that if they tutored someone, they'd miss class and maybe their precious ninety-nine point nine grade would drop from missing some stupid piece of information.

"Hey", whoever it was said, and it sounded like a girl, which was enough to get Mitch to stop focusing exclusively on his play. He wasn't going to try to pick up a senior, they tended to be possessive enough even of friends that he wasn't going to risk it, but just because he couldn't touch didn't mean he couldn't look. Except that there were still four people he needed to place. There, there, he would need to go there, and there. Perfect.

He crumpled up the paper and shoved it in his pocket and looked up. She was blond, very pretty, and apparently his tutor. Unisex names confused the heck out of him, especially one like Dylan, which, really, definitely was a dude's name.

She put her papers down and sat down across from him, and he finished his quick but extremely searching little appraisal as she extended a hand and confirmed it. "I'm Dylan."

"Yeah, you're Mark's girl, right babe?" he said, as he gripped her hand and squeezed it gently, a polite and entirely chaste greeting. He didn't pay any attention to her reaction as he dropped her hand like a dead fish- no way in h*ll he was giving Mark any fodder to think that he was flirting with his girlfriend- to dig in his backpack and pull out his own binder.

((OOC: Was that okay with you?
May as well dive head first into happy awkward conversation, no?))

When it came to Dylan’s reasons for tutoring, there were many, and they all were supported by a few salient points. As was her nature, Dylan wanted to help. The people who ended up in tutoring were usually the ones who needed help and therefore, she wasn’t really enforcing her presence on them and if they didn’t want it, they were more than welcome to make it apparent. The point was, the offer was there. Secondly, it really was a collective thing; if there were people lagging behind in class, it took out time from everyone’s work and that wasn’t really fair on everyone else who strives to further their education. And yes, they didn’t have to take time out to tutor others if they didn’t want to, and neither did Dylan, but she wanted to, so she did. Thirdly, it really did help. She saw the tutoring as more of a discussion than an actual teaching session; as much as it helped the person in question, she had to admit that it helped clear her own understanding of it too and it was always nice to see things from an alternative perspective.
And that was what this tutoring session was going to be about; biology tutoring. Not about Mark, or Mitch’s friendship with Mark, or her relationship with (lack thereof) Mark, or anything that didn’t have anything to do with Biology. Besides, she was sure Mitch was a nice guy – though, what she did know of him came mainly from Mark’s complaints and the other cheerleaders’ swooning or complaints – and even if Mark had said anything, he’d be courteous enough to not mention it, right?

"Yeah, you're Mark's girl, right babe?" he asked, taking hold of her hand in a firm, yet gentle grip, enveloping her cold hand in warmth, before discarding it entirely almost with disinterest as he moved on to focus his attentions on his backpack while Dylan gaped slightly at the name tag.

“Mark’s girl”. Personal identity was sort of a dichotomous topic in high school; you either cling to it, or you sacrifice it. There were those who took time out to segregate themselves from the rest of the normal… well, let’s say majority population’s sartorial sense, crafting out their own styles, their own rules and really, even if they weren’t “popular”, they were liberated in a way. Whereas the other side of it comprised of people who were willing to crunch down on every aspect of personal identity to function as mass assembled Barbie dolls and, especially given that she was friends with half these people, Dylan felt really sorry for them. However, as far as her efforts went, she wasn’t one of them. She wanted to be herself.
Fact of the matter remained that Dylan was overshadowed by Mark’s personality, his need to have his say and have it accepted, and when around other people as a couple, she didn’t say much, because she wanted him to feel comfortable. Especially around Mitch, Gavin and Dean, she really didn’t feel like saying much, because – guy conversations and all – there hadn’t been much that she’d wanted to contribute.
She really didn’t realise that that had come down to a point of her being an accessory that Mark and that that would lead to Mitch seeing her as Mark’s possession.
Well, here was start – she didn’t know how to answer Mitch’s question, but she wasn’t going to leave him with the idea that she was “Mark’s girl” (well, anymore anyway; she couldn’t blame the guy for correctly interpreting the part that she’d played).

“No…,” she found herself saying, watching him pull out the binder from his backpack, wondering how extensive his notes were – she’d have to check it out – and then wondering what she was going to say to finish that sentence. “I’m not. Anymore.”
She tucked a lock of blonde hair behind her ear rather awkwardly, shifting the topic of the conversation onto where it was better off;
“So, are there any topics you want to focus on particularly?”

(((OOC: Lol, yes, awkwardness indeed!
I hope this is all okay )))

Mitch made no claims to being perceptive, making such a claim would mean that people would watch what they said and did around him. Acting on what he did see immediately after he saw it often had the same effects. If he wanted to screw with some nerd's mind, or some dumb freshman, or some slightly gullible girl in his own year, he had to know how to get to them, but letting them know he knew? That was bad.

“No…,” she said in answer to his question. And that made him pay a bit more attention. Mark had gone after lunch to see his lady... ouch. He'd have to avoid Mark later, he was probably going to take it out at practice, and Mitch tended to be the one the team tackled, since he could take it pretty easily.

He had gotten his binder out, filled with photocopies of that nerd girl, Terry Oldyvar's, notes, hand written notes that he and Dean took turns taking, and his own notes from the textbook. There was only one or two sheets of the latter, while the first occupied most of the binder. Terry was a real sweetheart, but she had deeply overcompensated after she'd gotten drunk after that game.

Looking at her now, he could see she was terribly upset, and he decided to change tacks. His desire to know what had gone on, since Mark's version would doubtless be different than hers, was tempered by the fact that if he pried too much, she would probably start bawling. It was slightly ridiculous that more than half of Dean's and Gavin's "relationships" ended like that.

“I’m not. Anymore.” Yep, redundancy, on someone who was supposed to be smarter than average ra-ra-self-confidence-of-a-crustacean cheerleader. Either she was more like them than he'd heard from Mark and Maddy Fenway, who was a friend of hers, or a friend of a friend, or an eventual receiver of gossip, or something.

She hesitated for a moment, to fiddle with her hair and break eye contact, and Mitch just looked at her sympathetically. Mark's timing was impeccable, dumping her right before a dance. “So, are there any topics you want to focus on particularly?”

Well, duh. He was quite fascinated by whatever had been going on with Mark and Dylan. In actuality he wasn't so dumb that he couldn't take a hint, but doubtless Mark had filled her head with all sorts of crap on the subject and Mrs. Jaym's opinion would only have solidified it.

"Sounds like you made the right decision. He's always been an ars* to the girls he dated". It was a force of habit to say that she was Mark's girl, or that Lisa was Dean's girl, but now that she wasn't, she was like any other girl, just completely off limits. So he would cater to any feminism or identity issues or whatever she had.

He glanced away. He was fully anticipating that she had not wanted him to go there, so he thumbed through his binder a little until he found some of his own notes. He wasn't sure what reaction the deal that he and Terry and Dean had with notes swapping would elicit, and as such, he would stick with his own.

Here was something... Meiosis... whatever the heck that was. "Or meiosis, like cell energetics and stuff. Whichever you like." He smiled pleasantly at her, not knowing what the heck he was talking about, but that was what was on top of the page, in neat block capitals- Meiosis- and then some incomprehensible drawings. That was what cell energetics was, right?

((OOC: I am rapidly growing fond of this fellow...
Was this okay with you? And for the record cell energetics= photosynthesis and respiration, not meiosis))

When it came to people’s opinions of other people, Dylan couldn’t say that she ever took what she heard to heart; after all, she was a different person and her interaction with any specific person needn’t be the same as someone else’s, and so, she approached it with fresh eyes. Or maybe it was just that innate compulsion to give everyone a chance. One of those, but same result, anyway. However, it didn’t mean that she didn’t listen when other people talked (usually in extreme; either complaining or flattering), but that was more simple, passing conversation in lieu of playing ‘Yes man’. Dylan didn’t do that; if she didn’t agree with something, she didn’t pretend to agree with it just to have friends.

Which brought them to the point of Mitch. She wasn’t sure what to make of the guy, with and without what she’d heard. Mark made it a point to complain about his conduct, branding him only worthy of being accepted into the social circle because of his performance on the pitch and Dylan couldn’t figure out why he kept insisting on hanging out with Mitch if he felt so negatively about the other guy. But then, Mark did have a habit of putting down people to make himself look better. And then there were the other cheerleaders, none of whom had actually had a long standing association with the guy as Dylan came to notice and fair enough, the majority of the cheerleaders did tend to conform to a stereotype which wasn’t to everyone’s tastes… didn’t mean Mitch wasn’t close to anyone at all.

"Sounds like you made the right decision,” he commented on what she’d wanted to leave behind, inciting her to wonder whether this was going to turn out into a fully fledged conversation that she really didn’t want to have. “He's always been an ars* to the girls he dated.”

Well. Mark did have his redeeming qualities, but she’d never really thought of herself in terms of all the other girls he’d dated, or all the other girls that he’d date from here on. She didn’t want Mark to suffer from making the same mistakes again and again, regardless of how bad things had turned out between them; he did deserve to be happy.
Though, this did mean Mitch had been paying attention to Mark’s interaction with the girls he dated. Wait, no, had Mark said something regarding her? Dylan wasn’t naïve, she did realise guys talked about their relationships in the same way girls did, but… what had he said? Was Mitch likely to take Mark’s opinion on it, or…? Clearly, Mark hadn’t been particularly pleasant, in order to leave Mitch with the impression that he was an ars* to the girls he dated….
Though, thankfully, she didn’t have to find out, because he was gracious enough to pick up on the fact that she didn’t feel like discussing it now and he let it go.
Hmm, not so insensitive, after all, huh? Contrary to what Tori had said….

"Or meiosis, like cell energetics and stuff,” he singled out the topics he wanted to cover first, a amiable smile growing on his lips that left Dylan wondering whether he was feeling uncomfortable about anything, such as pointing out his weak spots in the syllabus. “Whichever you like."
Well… meiosis wasn’t cell enegetics, they were two entirely different topics. One was reduction division to form pro-gametes and the other was the actual metabolic reactions within the cell. This did suggest that they had a few things to cover.
However, Dylan didn’t like telling people they were wrong, especially when she was trying to build up a rapport with them and so, she wasn’t about to directly point it out to him…. But at the same time, she didn’t want to leave him with that misconception and so, she handled it more indirectly.

“I think we should cover meiosis first?” she suggested without outrightly correcting him on it. “Once we have cell division done, then it’ll be easier to cover cell function.”
She smiled slightly in almost geeky amusement; “We’ll have a cell before it starts respiring.”
Right. She needed to see how much he knew before she started the tutoring; after all, she didn’t want to insult his intelligence, nor drop him off into the deep end and so, it made sense to see what he’d got down on paper. Plus, when people made notes, they were usually a little hesitant on the things they didn’t understand, and that too would give her a clue as to what topics to approach.
“Could I please have a quick look at your notes?” she asked, pointing slightly at the binder before him.

(((OOC: I hope this is all okay with you, Furry and thanks for the heads-up!
Summerkelsa - welcome back amd I do hope RL eases up a little
I have to ask, are you also resubmitting Bodene?)))

In high school, there are usually quite a few things that are considered common knowledge, things that often have to do with social rank and/or repute, that you're supposed to know, or risk being asked what rock you've been living under, and also quite possibly told to return there.
At Brooklake High, a couple of those "must know" things, were usually who was dating who among the top layers of the preps and jocks, no matter how difficult it might be to keep up with - if you didn't know Marie-Elisabeth Normandy and Josh Brennan were an item these days... well, let's just say you would have your sanity questioned - and that you didn't go near the table in the far end corner of the cafeteria, or this one spot behind the school, unless you wanted your nose broken by the troublemakers. As a girl, you made sure never to use the second stall from the right in the girls' ground floor restroom, since early last year, some boys had discovered the airvent that connected it with the boys' restroom on the other side of the wall, and that offered a fairly good bird's eye view of aforementioned stall. Furthermore, and on a somewhat more socially focused note, you'd do well not to antagonize Marie-Elisabeth Normandy, Matt Sidle or Donnie Kang, not to get involved with Tyler Young, and - this just in - not publically embarrass Abby Vigilanti, lest you'd risk getting intimately acquainted with the nearest locker.

Also on the list, though quite a bit further down than the above, and thus not considered as much of a piece of vital information, was the fact that while preps/jocks and troublemakers rarely got along, there really was no love lost between the jocks/preps and Leigh Grayson, following her by now widely known and often graphically retold encounter with Kyle Matherson last year. The way the jocks and the preps kept dragging it up and throwing it in her face just for the sake of making things worse for her, had made her a complete adversary to their existence. Therefore, it would come as no surprise to anyone really, that she took any and all opportunities she happened across, to strike at them and their inflated egos. It was partly why she had suggested that J.D. should show Natalie Cardew the satire of Matt Sidle; because even though Natalie had by then seemed as though she didn't particularly care for the company of the preps either, Leigh had wanted to make sure, and for that purpose, the satire had been nothing short of perfect. If Natalie still sided with the preps, the satire - which even though it depicted only Matt, did have him representing his entire clique - would have been a bit of a slap in the face. And if she didn't, then hey, there'd still be the satisfaction of having yet another person seeing the preps for what they really were. Either way there would be gratification.
And if the plan Natalie had come up with really was put into action... Now that'd be something.

"That was a good one", Lilith voiced her agreement with what now seemed to be the general opinion of the few that had seen the satire.

Though it was soon followed by a couple of seconds contemplative silence, as Lilith seemed to run it all through her mind again, and upon doing so, realize there were still a couple of question marks.

"Wait", she said and stopped abruptly, causing the other two to pull to a halt as well. "Are you trying to say that Natalie is willing to publish that sketch of Sidle the Great as a toad? Laramie would have an aneurysm. Unless... there's a catch?"

Again her eyes narrowed slightly at her two friends, as she still clearly smelled a prank of some sort in the making, though in this case probably mostly because both Leigh and J.D. had failed to mention that the satire had only been used as a sample, a reference of what J.D. tended to draw, and hadn't - at least initially - been meant to actually be printed, neither in the school paper, nor anywhere else.

But still... Oh, how Leigh wanted to tell her what was going on, to let her in on the plan. She didn't at all like to have to leave Lilith out of the action, especially not when she trusted Lilith far more than she trusted Natalie, and would have loved to have her be part of it.
Still, she couldn't overlook the fact that the feeling was probably more than mutual, and that Natalie was already at a bit of a disadvantage, as the outsider among two, possibly three people with a lot more in common with each other than with her, and thus sharing a strong sense of trust and loyalty, that she had never really been a part of, until now.

Though by no means did that mean that Leigh didn't plan on introducing the idea to Natalie of letting Lilith in on the plan, since even with friendship aside, Lilith could turn out to be quite an asset, with her sharp wit and history of pulling successful pranks (and with Tyler, too). It just meant that Leigh wouldn't let Lilith in on the plan right now.

"No no", she thus said, shaking her head and sending strands of black and red dancing around her shoulders. "It's not going in the paper. Too offensive, obviously. I just meant it's one of the drawings she's seen. I just wanted to see her reaction when J.D. showed it to her, since, y'know, she used to date the guy and all."


(((ooc: Think I lost my focus towards the middle somewhere, so sorry if it's messy and/or doesn't make sense... )))

(((OOC: Okay, please don't threaten to kill me anyone. I think the computer gods hate me because a couple of weeks ago our entire harddrive exploded and we had to get everything re-installed. I've only been able to get on very infrequently, either with someone else's computer or theifing wireless from my neighbours on my laptop, which was spotty at best. THe main PC is all fixed up and running now, so I will be back I promise. Again I apologize muchly and offer all kinds of apology cookies for everyone))

Some things you don't f***in' forget. It was a couple of summers ago hanging out with Marissa's precious few friends who didn't completely suck c***. Broad daylight. Sittin' on the campus grass and passing a joint. A cop passed by, and Esteban's muscles tensed. The f***er passed by, saw a group of good, little middle class gringos with the odd minority, had himself a chuckle as he remembered his glory days, and he kept on passing by. What the f***? If they'd been all beaners, there'd be a shakedown.

It was complete bulls***, but it taught Esteban something valuable. It's good to have white friends. They're the best ones to talk down a couple of cops getting off on busting some brownskins. Plus, if they're one of the nerdy types, then people didn't expect them to steal s***--certainly not from the laboratory stash of medical marijuana, which, by the way, is heaven compared to the swag that usually trickles into the barrio.

From the beginning Esteban suspected that Katie Byrd might have an "in" somewhere. And after a healthy session of grilling her, he confirmed it. Katie could make suspensions disappear.

Putamadre. That could be useful.


When she glares at him, he pretends he doesn't notice. It ain't too hard given that Katie's about as intimidating as a bowl of flan.

“Don't you at least know how to choke someone out?”

"No..." she starts, and he can see her brain revving up behind her eyes. "It's something to make the trachea collapse on its own right?"

Wrong. Well, mostly. Air chokes could definitely work, but they're a b**** to pull off. Crushing someone's windpipe is serious s***. S*** that stands a good chance of killing someone since their lungs fill with blood. He's seen it before from his volunteer time. Not pretty. Hard to reconstruct. Hard to heal. Not to mention it takes a lotta force to actually shut off the trachea completely--maybe ten times more than the carotids. And in a fight, cutting off someone's air long enough for them to pass out means holding it a full minute. Not good.

It could be useful sometimes, though. Hurts like a motherf***er. Giving a jackass a sharp hit to the windpipe was always satisfying, but no way in hell Esteban was letting anyone, much less Katie, practice a wind choke on him. In almost every way, a blood choke was better--especially for practice. Hard to do permanent damage with one, relatively painless, and quicker and easier to pull off in a real fight.

"I guess a flat hand, though you would get around it all the way with a jazz hand of some kind..."

"Naw... don't go for an air choke 'less you wanna kill someone. S*** even if you wanna kill someone, you're still better off with a blood choke cuz it's real quick if you do it right. Like five seconds. Think you can manage one?" His chin tilts up, and his neck lengthens. With one finger, he taps against the left, then the right sides of his neck along his carotids before challenging her: "Show me."

It occurs to Esteban that this is a stupid idea. A really stupid idea. But he's got a nice buzz, and from how he's sized up Katie, he doesn't think she has the cojones to hurt him that bad. So he rises up from off his bucket, kicking it away. Hesitation weeds over Katie's face. She hops off the shelf. Not the most graceful thing he's seen, but he doesn't expect that much from her, so it fails to register.

She sounds like a textbook on the way over, a recollection of anatomy facts that mean balls in a fast-paced fight. The difference between knowing how a choke works and knowing how to choke--it's all the difference in the world. When her hand whips out fast towards his neck, he instinctively withdraws half a centimeter before steadying himself.

Lightly, she taps on the sensitive skin of his throat. "And I suppose a digging motion until gasping and nasty fluids come out?"

Jejeje, s***. Did she think some gay tiger stance rip-off would impress him? She's got it all wrong. It ain't about speed. It ain't about fast moves and flourishes. It's about getting the right position, the right leverage, the right angle of your arms against their arteries. It takes a practiced touch, and for that, you have to take it slow at first.

One corner of his mouth curls smugly cuz he knows something that she doesn't. Far as Esteban can tell, Katie's flustered cuz she probably hasn't had too many chances to be so piss poor at something. In a way, it's kind of endearing. And after a few seconds of her fingers fumbling lightly on his neck, uncertain of what do to, she steps back with an awkward mumble, "...or something."

Cute.

The bell rings. The sound of students migrating to class filters in from the outside. Katie's ready to make her escape. "Okay, I need to go, now. I'm not going to lie to Mrs. Jaym if she asks me why I'm late and smell like alcohol. And you should probably change too."

"You really want all those people to see us coming out of this closet at the same time?" He asks sarcastically, thumb pointing to the door. A smile melts over his face. A smile that says I'm not gonna hurt you even though I could. He doesn't demand or request. He states calmly, assuredly, as though the idea that she'd refuse doesn't even occur to him. "Now come here."

He extends his right hand towards her, like he's trying to pet a deer without startling it. Right hand crosses to the opposite side of her neck, and he gently slides the back of his fingertips against her skin till the back of his hand is firmly positioned against her neck. His fingers curl into a fist around her shirt collar, pulling it tight and using it to help wedge the blade of his hand into her neck.

"This ain't about speed or strength. It's about finding the right spot and getting leverage." He explains, taking his eyes off her neck to look into her eyes and make sure she isn't freaking out. The light in the closet is s***ty, but there's something kind of... nice... about how green her eyes are. How many guys have actually touched Katie Byrd? She was a dancer wasn't she? That meant at least a little physical contact.

"The arteries are on both sides, so you gotta hit both spots. Do the same thing with the other hand, but you can grab further up in the collar... here," he narrates, as his left hand crosses up against the other side of her neck. Between both hands, he's pulling the collar of her shirt tight, using it to help dig the backs of his hands into her neck, the same way that two people tugging at opposite ends of a rope counterbalance each other and dig their feet into the ground. "Even from here, you can f*** it up. So, like, if I squeeze my hands together like this, it's a uncomfortable, but you're not gonna pass out from that, right?" He demonstrates, and as he squeezes the pressure against her neck slowly increases and caps off.

"Like I said, it's about leverage. So if I pull from the elbows instead..." He lifts and pulls them out, making the blades of his hands clamp down around the sides of her neck like pliers. The force against her neck skyrockets. It feels like pressure against the back of her eyeballs and heavy throbbing around her forehead and temples. He doesn't hold the choke for more than one second before he lets go so that her face can return it it's normal color.

"...feels a lot different, right?"

Outside, the sound of footsteps was sputtering down, a bag of popcorn on its last leg in the microwave. Five seconds in between steps. Ten seconds. Twenty. Safe.

"You wanna practice some more, meet me after school," he adds without mentioning an exact time or place. For having his shining moments as a mastermind, Esteban could be a real s***ty planner sometimes.

Once it sounds like the traffic outside's died down enough. He maneuvers against the side of the closet, making room for Katie to squeeze past him. Despite the fact that he doesn't have a problem with pinning a chick against some dusty shelves in a closet, there's something ingrained in that even now tells him ladies first.

At the last moment as she's leaving, he remembers something, digs out her lightly rumpled homework from his backpack, and thrusts it towards her, "One sec... here. You f***ed up number sixty three."



---



"Are you planning on interviewing the cheer squad during clubs? I can help you out with the photography."

Donnie allowed himself to show a faint smile at the mention of cheer squad. Given the nature of the prank, pictures of the squad were an absolute necessity. Even if Natalie was unable to get them past the censors for the paper, Donnie had use for those pictures well outside the school sphere. After all, the Brooklake Myspace scene was nearly as vibrant and pertinent as the real world one.

And in this particular case, Donnie had an additional reason to be enthused. A new toy.

When they arrived at the school store, Donnie kept the exchange with Nora as efficient as possible. She handed him his coffee and a thumbdrive with his mail. He handed her exact change for the coffee and a replacement thumbdrive--its data he had already backed up onto his hard drive.

"Thanks." He said. Though he personally considered the verbal gesture of gratitude meaningless, he understood that the ritual was important to some people. In any case, the monosyllabilic expression added less than one second to their exchange and was well worth the time sacrifice. Donnie's entire intercourse with Nora was finished in less than five seconds, and this was a thing of elegance--the sort of efficiency that was only appreciated by New Yorkers and people like Donnie.

When everything falls into place smoothly, efficiently, Donnie gets a little hop in his step. Turning away from Nora, he continued down the hallway with Jude, responding to his previous question and lowering his voice conspiratorially.

"Yes, I could use your help. I'd like to try out a new set of wireless spy cam glasses since I predict most of them will be reluctant to let you take their pictures. You could pull aggro, and I could snap pictures incognito. Or vice versa."

A beat passed as Donnie mentally ran through the various branched scenarios in his mind. "You could probably use a wire too, in case your mic picks up something that mine doesn't. C'mon, let's set up in the news room."

Donnie led them to the room used for newspaper club, letting them both inside. He pulled out the wire from his bag and a roll of duct tape from one of the cupboards. He waited in what he considered a somewhat awkward moment for Jude pick up the cue and take off his shirt, and then he affixed the wire to Jude's chest using a generous amount of tape. All the while, he expounded on the multitudinous functionalities involved in the spy glasses and gave Jude some basic information how the wire worked.

They ate in the newspaper room. Donnie's lunch consisted of perfect proportions of all the food groups condensed into energy bars, vitamins, and a small tin of sardines for the omega-3-fatty acids necessary for proper brain development, which he offered to share with Jude. As Donnie was finishing up the last sardine in his tin, the bell rang.

"Just a minute." Donnie interjected, wrapping another layer of duct tape over the wire for good measure.

The two made their way to biology, somewhat late for class, when Donnie spotted Katie Byrd emerging from a door that he soon realized led not to a classroom, but to a cleaning closet. Her shirt looked slightly dampened with some unknown fluid. Donnie's journalistic instincts were tingling. Interesting.

He ducked behind the nearest garbage can, pulling a somewhat clueless Jude along after him. Quickly, he flipped out an antenna of angled mirrors from his bag and adjusted them from behind the garbage can so that both him and Jude had a good view of Katie without revealing their presence.

Donnie jaw dropped four full millimeters as he saw Katie hurriedly leave the closet followed shortly by... Esteban Morales? His jaw remained ajar for seven seconds before he remembered to close it.

"That's quite... uncharacteristic of her," he remarked in a low whisper.






((OOC: Hope this works for all involved.
Also, YAY! kelsa! I was planning on have Esteban go to the the *wink*wink*honkey noises* rendezvous point in this post, but I ran out of steam. I'll get something up for that later.
Also, maeve--this is like the cutest thing I've read in a while! AWWWWW!))

Quote: Originally posted by maeve.2.0

don't worry, Lacey, because I'm not going to run off and have glossy-haired children. I'm going to stay here right by your side so you can count the freckles on my nose.

More often than not, with a widely known reputation also comes great misconceptions. If someone is interesting enough to gossip about, chances are that in the midst of all the sharing of usually more or less incomplete information, imaginative minds with a burning desire to know the whole story, will at some point start contemplating and conjuring possibilities for the holes they are so yearning to fill, and in doing so will, consciously or no, give life to pure fabrications, only loosely and distantly founded on fragments of actual truth.

Despite the rumours of his connections and shady dealings, there was a somewhat common idea among the students of Brooklake High, that Tyler Young wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed. Even if usually, no one had the guts to suggest it to Tyler himself, face to face, and even though if you just stopped to think about it for a moment, you'd realize that he was far from dim. Problem was, not many had any interest in stopping to think about it for a moment, because they were all too wrapped up in their own drama that was teenage life, and also because hey, dismissing people and their worth, even if only in thought, was so much more fun, wasn't it? Fun, and simple:
Tyler was known to deal weed, among other things, and so naturally he'd have to be a stoner himself, right? He had been held back in school and made to repeat his sophomore year, and so naturally he had to be a bit of a dumb*ss, right? And he tended to stay clear of of all the intrigues and vendettas between the various cliques or even random students, and was known to only do what others paid him to do, and so that had to mean he suffered from a serious lack of actual wit, because he didn't play games, and didn't take the initiative to the things he did. He simply let others tell him what to do, did it, and made money from it. Right?

Wrong.
There was quite a bit that Tyler did on his own, from the budding plan to the final execution of the same. It just so happened that he simply had no need to assert himself by bragging about exactly what pranks he had instigated and pulled off, and what other accomplishments he'd achieved. He didn't care about making any such stuff known, because what he did - in the terms of pranks - he did for his own amusement, and not in order to have others think he was so cool, and such a daredevil. He couldn't care less, end of story.
And as for the intrigues and the manipulation... He didn't get involved in such things not because he wasn't sharp enough, but simply because he chose not to. He had no interest in it, and to be perfectly honest, he even despised it. The way he saw it, if you wanted something from someone, you asked them for it. If they didn't want to help you out, you respected their decision, since it really was theirs to make. Or, at the very most, you persuaded them, one way or another. You did not trick them, or try to play on their emotions just to get your way. Simple and straightforward, that was Tyler's method of choice, both for himself when dealing with others, and for others to be dealing with him. He didn't manipulate, nor did he tend to fall for the manipulative tricks of others. And those who tried it on him, would soon enough find themselves no longer in his company, at least for as long as they kept trying. For while he wasn't the type to sever all ties with someone whose qualities he didn't appreciate one hundred percent, he would still distance himself from those who tried to make him a target for what he considered to be their least redeeming ones.

However, even though in some ways, if one decided to be very black or white, one could suggest without bending the truth a whole lot, that a bit of manipulation had been used in trying to ensure that Tyler's curiosity and interest were piqued by the matter with which Natalie had decided to approach him this afternoon, he wasn't about to actually label it as such. He did understand the thought that had gone into wording things right, and he did understand that it had all clearly been designed to draw a desired reaction from him. But even so, it wasn't clear-cut manipulation, and it was far from meant to coax him into doing something he was hesitant about, or even downright reluctant to do.

Ergo, she had his full attention, when after jamming the stiletto into the crack between the door and the floor, he'd straightened back up to await her explanation, and elaboration.

"Thanks for meeting me", she started politely, in recognition of his agreement to hear what she had in mind, and quite possibly also the fact that she wasn't the only one taking time away from class, even though it'd be a lie to say that Tyler was at all bothered by missing part - or even all, should that turn out to be the case - of biology. "I was told that you'd be the man to go to for something of a more... exigent nature. Something like getting Laramie's wallet?"

At that, the devilish glint that was in her eyes appeared in his as well, as they watched her lithe frame draw closer, and then produce a small shrug as she added for a bit of clarification;

"Only for about five minutes or so."

Hmmmm... Well, in all honesty, how long she needed it for didn't make all that much of a difference to the endeavour as a whole, since it was the getting of the wallet that was the crux of it all. Returning it was the easy part, since there were several ways of doing it; some involving Laramie discovering that it was missing in the first place, and some not. Getting it, however, posed a little more of a challenge, because if his assumptions - based on observation, of course - were correct, it wouldn't be as simple as slipping a pair of nimble fingers inside Laramie's jacket and snatching it up. From what Tyler had witnessed, when once having been called to Laramie's office and having then had Laramie follow him out once they were done, Laramie tended to leave his wallet behind, when he went on his daily patrols around the hallways. That made the main target not Laramie himself, but Laramie's office. Laramie's empty office, preferably.

"Okay...", Tyler started slowly, with his left hand coming up to rub the side of his jaw in contemplation, as obviously various possibilities were already darting through his mind, of how to go about it.

Though before any decision could be made, and before a plan could be settled on;

"What do you need it for?", he asked, calmly fixing her in his dark blue gaze, the look in his eyes speaking more of simple curiosity, rather than actual demand. "And how soon do you need it?"

Usually, he didn't make a habit of asking any questions, since due to being considered "rude", it tended to be a most effective way of getting yourself hurt. Although, probably not here, in high school, as opposed to the outside world that was part of his after-school activities. But still, the instructions were rather specific, which in turn suggested a very specific purpose, and so if it wasn't just something as simple as causing Laramie a bit of inconvenience and worry by making his wallet disappear, it could be good to know. If for no other reason, than for Tyler's own chances of covering his hide, should it turn out to be something major.

Natalie was used to schemes; you have to scheme in order to keep yourself on top of the food chain and back then, Natalie couldn’t envisage herself anywhere other than on top of the social pyramid, before she realised that she did perfectly well without bothering with the aforementioned pyramid; who needed their approval? Though, she did suppose that was one of two ways; you either become disillusioned when you realise that you’re working towards nothing at all, or you become addicted to the lie you forge out for yourself, and at the end of the day, those who find themselves towards the top of the pyramid are as much victims to it’s constraints as everyone else they trampled on.
As Natalie found out, and soon, as Matt would find out. To an extent, Natalie was unsure why she wanted him to see it. Yeah, she was disgusted by him, and yes, she was mad at him, but what also singled him out from the others, apparent more following the events of the previous night than ever before, was that he really was a victim to his own schemes.

She hadn’t told any of what she’d witnessed – the tryst between Matt and Josh – to anyone else and it was for two main reasons. She really wanted to twist the knife in Matt’s side and she wanted to take her time doing it, and she wanted him to feel what it was like to have someone judge him for a) what they had no business judging, and b) to feel guilty about something that he couldn’t have helped and really wished he could. She’d have her revenge and she’d make it as sweet as it was cold and she wouldn’t stand for anything that stopped her from getting what she wanted, and deserved to have. The other reason was that she knew how scary it was to make a mistake that you knew everyone would scrutinise you for, and how terrifying it was to admit it to yourself that you were wrong. Added to that, Brennan had never done anything to her, and despite the fact that they guy had obviously incurred some brain damage during those football matches – what with getting involved with both Princess Peroxide and Brat – Natalie figured he deserved that privacy too.
Didn’t mean she’d let Matt believe that she wouldn’t tell, because if he gave her reason to, she most definitely would spill the beans.
This prank, it wasn’t anything to do with Matt’s sexuality – and honestly, Natalie could have easily suggested to J.D. that he also take a pot shot at Matt’s sexuality in the sketch by adding a poster of a naked man on the background bedroom wall or something, using the fact that Matt’s womanising behaviour was clearly overcompensation of some sort – but rather what Matt did (not who he did either) and that was hardly a low blow. Natalie had every intention of using the sexuality issue too, but perhaps in a more encouraging way; she wasn’t about to make homosexuality look like a crime just to get at Sidle.
And she’d do that one on her own, without involving anyone else, because she really didn’t intend on spilling Matt’s secret, unless her pushed her to it, and therefore, collaboration with other people wasn’t the best idea.

However, she had guessed that she’d have to probably give Tyler a reason as to why she wanted Laramie’s wallet and that in turn fed back to the nature of the prank and that was sure to raise questions of why and Natalie wasn’t sure she wanted to go down amongst the troublemakers as the girl who simply couldn’t get over Matt Sidle. Yeah, she was okay with Leigh and J.D. contemplating that she was still hurting over that episode, but she hadn’t given any confirmation for that. Now, if she explained to Tyler the nature of the prank and he asked why, she’d have to give a more convincing reason than “I don’t like him” and she really didn’t want the reason to be “I’m a bitch of an ex-girlfriend, even though I was never his girlfriend… that makes me bitchy too”, regardless of how convincing she could make it.
Though, was there a chance that he’d accept the deal without a reason as to why? Didn’t seem likely, because she’d have thought he’d have to be pretty careful over what he did and how he did it, considering that the majority was probably illegal beyond student life. In all honesty, she didn’t see him backing down from the challenge – guy like him, living life on the edge, was hardly likely to refuse because he wanted to play it safe suddenly – but at the same time, to have made it this far with an intangible, yet convincing reputation and track record, he was obviously the master of quite appreciable smarts and therefore, she didn’t see him going into something without the whys and whats.

"Okay...,” he seemed to agree, the contemplative gesticulation soon affirming it in Natalie’s mind that he was on board and therefore, that was one step closer to achieving the goal; with Leigh and J.D. probably most capable of playing their parts, Natalie, as the inevitable newbie, didn’t want to slack on her side of the duties.

"What do you need it for?" came the cool question as she found herself the recipient of a rather civil look in his sapphire eyes, leaving her with the choice of answering, refusing to answer, or simply side-stepping the question.
Now, Natalie most definitely liked choice, but she wasn’t going to answer just because she could choose to. However, she did intend to answer, because he’d been courteous about it and also because she did want him to be comfortable over the whole thing… and that also had something to do with the fact that she could use his expertise for the next stage of the plan. But… first get this one finalised. She contemplated how to phrase things as he finished; "And how soon do you need it?"

She wasn’t entirely sure how to put it; keeping certain details ambiguous and revealing others was always tricky when people could just outright ask you questions regarding what you were talking about. Right… here goes.

“We’re hoping to have Laramie foot the bill for our plan,” she explained, then taking a moment to figure out what to say about said plan, because she was more or less sure that J.D. didn’t want more people to know about his sketching skills, despite the fact that he really was very skilled at it, and she’d rather have Tyler on board for the second stage of the prank before she ruined the surprise for him… though, Tyler probably didn’t care much about Matt.

“There’s a pretty educational drawing that everyone in school deserves to see, but Laramie would have a coronary over it before he lets me publish it in the paper,” she carried on, with a slightly disappointed look, not mentioning names or details to any significant extent. “Not a huge setback, because having hundreds of copies printed out and anonymously distributed works well too, but… given that Laramie’s the obstacle to it happening the less expensive way, it’s only fair that he should foot the bill for this. As for when... as soon as possible would be great.”

(((OOC: Hope this works )))

Marie-Elisabeth had, quite obviously, thought a lot about how Matt was going to react when she told him. It wasn't as though they hadn't been careful when they were together, or at least she thought they had been. She had no urge whatsoever to have a kid, and turn into a bloated, waddling mess.

She had already prepared herself for the absolute worst after she told him. She was prepared for screaming, yelling, throwing things, for him to completely deny it and for everything in between.

Of course she knew he couldn’t deny it for long. They both knew each other well enough to know when the other person was playing games and when they weren’t. That’s why it had almost surprised her when he had laughed; asking if that was the best she could come up with and telling her she was losing her touch.

She had wanted to scream at him, and possibly throw one of the pieces of sports equipment at his smug head, but she kept herself quiet. The thought to lie about something this serious had never occurred to her. Even she, the Queen of doing bitchy things and manipulating people, wouldn’t go that far. It would do too much damage to Josh, and she really didn’t want that.

Marie-Elisabeth was shaken out of her thoughts of Josh when she heard Matt say “You’re not kidding are you”, as his eyes widened in complete horror “Are you serious”.

“No, I’m just dicking around” she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes “Of course I’m serious you idiot”. She wished there was room to at least move around more in the closet, being this close to him was not the most comfortable thing in the world. That and the fact that she was afraid of getting sick again and loosing what little remained of breakfast.

“I wanted to be the one to tell you before the inevitable happens and the entire f*&king Universe finds out” she continued “Something like this is not going to stay quiet long, and I don’t want Josh to get hurt by it. It’s going to be bad enough already”.

"Do you know what section you want to write for?" Melissa asked, "Even if it's a...requirement."
Lea frowned. She hadn't even thought about that. It's a newspaper, how much is there too it? She thought.
"I don't even know what sections there even are." She said, "I mean, who reads the school newspaper anyway?"
Lea glanced at Melissa. Her delicately freckled wrist just peeking out from her clothes somehow fascinated her. Lea shook her head, and smiled. What the hell is up with you? She thought to herself, trying hard not to notice the subtle beauty in Melissa's face.
I'm just being stupid she thought to herself, as her hands nervously came together. She studied carefully the expression in Melissa's face. She doesn't look... shy, or embarrassed, thought Lea praying Melissa had no idea what was going through her head.
"So, I guess we should go in." Lea said, nodding towards the door.

((Hope that's all okay, Analynne. I'm not that sure about it, so let me know if you want anything changing. (Especially the description of Melissa.)

((OOC: Hi all.
Sorry for disappearing off the face of the earth. There were some bad storms in my area, and now there's a half inch flood of water on everything, and the power's out in my development, has been since Teusday, although people have said it'll be fixed sometime next week. I'm writing this from the library, and I'm really sorry that its going to be once I get power back that I can write a post. If I have time before my card expires, I'll get something short and crappy up for Mitch))

"I don't even know what sections there even are." She said, "I mean, who reads the school newspaper anyway?"

"Isn't there like entertainment, sport, stuff like that?” Melissa pointed out, Huh, she really doesn't know about newspaper she thought, "I imagine not much people read it but don't tell the people at the paper that, some take newspaper too seriously." She added with a laugh, remembering one of her friends who pretty much lived for the school paper. She didn't add that sometimes she read the paper for the gossip and comics.

At the corner of her eye she could see Lea staring intently at her. Puzzled, she wondered if she had something on her face. Melissa checked her hair, and ran her tongue over her teeth. She hoped she didn't had anything in her teeth, reminiscing once more about the day she just had to have the spinach special.

"So, I guess we should go in." Lea said, nodding towards the door.

"Sure, but before we go in, anything on my face?" she asked.

((It's fine, I just didn't imagine her with freckles but no need to change it. Is this okay?))

"Sure, but before we go in, anything on my face?" Melissa asked.
Lea looked, savouring the chance to openly examine Mel's features.
"No, not at all." She smiled. She pushed the door open, and walked in.
"Grab a seat at the back?" She said. She glanced around at the few students who were here already, and spotted a seat at the back of the class, by the window. She began to make her way towards it, already focusing her energy on forgetting what she had felt for Mel.
Lea shook her head and sat down in her chair. Right, she decided, I've got to focus on something else. Next -cute- boy that walks in, I'll get a crush on him.
She smiled, a plan of action already in her head, and realised she was smiling for a biology lesson. She scowled, slumped in her chair, and kept her eye on the door.
((OOC: Yep, that's fine. I got a bit carried away at the end, let me know if it needs changing (as usual :P) ))

The bell has gone, and Biology lesson has started.
Your class today involves working with your designated lab partner* to make a A3 poster presentation of anatomy (location, features) and physiology (functioning) of one major organ in the body (heart, lungs, liver, kidneys, spleen, stomach... etc), which you'll pick out of a hat now**
Raw materials for the poster are available at the front desk, and information is available in textbooks/your memory.

Good luck!

* Feel free to team up with anyone. For dramaz, it can be someone your character doesn't know/doesn't like
Please do try have it be someone your character doesn't normally interact with - never know where it might lead!
** Feel free to work it out amongst yourselves who wants to work on which organ, guys

----------------------------

On another note, to get to the dance sometime this year, it's probably the best case to skip a couple of days and fast forward to Saturday. We're definitely skipping Wednesday (unless anyone has severe objections), and also probably Friday so as to not skip two consecutive days.
I'm hoping that's all okay? Would love to hear your opinions