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cinaedWell, here's my first 600 words.....
“When the day goes by
And I do not see your face--”
The teacher paused, well aware that only one student in the room of twenty-seven was paying any attention to him. Sighing and laying the book down, he said in the tone of someone who has had a very frustrating day and needs just one more thing to break the camel’s back, “Speaking of faces, where is Theo’s?”
No one met his eyes.
He tried again, and this time his voice was sharp. "Where is Theo?" In the ensuing silence, he pinched the bridge of his nose, remembering all that useless advice that his therapist had given him during those anger management sessions. That therapist had never had to deal with a teenager like Theoharis Buehl. He turned his gaze upon one of the boys who seemed especially eager to keep from meeting his gaze. "Adorior, you wouldn't happen to know where your troublesome doppelganger is, would you?"
Slowly, unwillingly, Adorior Buehl looked up. His expression was guarded. "I don't know, sir." The teacher raised an eyebrow, and Adorior dropped his gaze. "I really don't! He wasn't at lunch. You can ask Vaschel - I was looking for Theo the entire time."
At the name, the teacher's ill mood turned even darker. He would have to question...Vaschel? The period would be over by the time the boy was done with a rant about some conspiracy with aliens and Theo being abducted. Just as unwilling as Adorior had been to meet his gaze, he turned towards a boy who had been reading Stephen Crane's The Red Badge of Courage instead of paying attention. "Is this true, Vaschel?"
The small, wiry boy looked up. If Adorior had looked guarded, Vaschel Worth looked paranoid. Then again, the teenager was paranoid, believing nothing and yet claiming everything was dangerous and/or out to get him. Sometimes it was aliens (which afterwards Vaschel would say scornfully he had never believed in), but all too often it was the government, which he was insistant was turning into a 1984 prototype. When he spoke, there was a slight sarcastic bite to his words, and at the same time almost a mournful whine, as though Vaschel regretted being pulled away from the book of the Civil War. "Rio was looking for his miscreant brother the entire lunchtime, sir."
"I see."
"Maybe you should ask Stuart?" The boy's comment was deceptively casual, but the teacher shot him a sharp look. He knew Vaschel was just trying to get him to speak to Eamon Stuart and make him the butt of everyone's jokes, for every time Eamon opened his mouth, he said something insensible. "Well, he's Theo's best friend, you'd think he'd know--"
"I don't."
Unlike the cutting undertone of Vaschel's voice, this one was soft and mellow, and the boy who had spoken matched that voice perfectly. He sat at his desk, gazing vaguely in the direction of the window, his round face serene. Still not looking at anyone, Eamon repeated, softer this time, "I don't."
"Maybe you would if you paid attention to reality," Vaschel said, his voice now harsh with sarcasm and disdain. "But no, you'd rather just stare at the sky like you expect an angel to come down and take you back to Heaven, don't you?"
A slow smile lit up the other boy's face. "That'd be nice, Value."
"My name," hissed Vaschel, "is Vaschel Worth, not Value, or Means, or Merit, but Worth! Get it right!" He glared at Eamon, and kept glaring even after the teacher shot him another look. "You really expect us to believe that you don't know where your partner-in-crime is?"
"I asked him first thing, Vas," Adorior interjected, exasperated at his best friend's attack. "He said he didn't know, and I believed him-"
Thud!
Slowly, as though afraid to, everyone turned towards the closet. Even Eamon looked away from the window to stare.
"Not...again," the teacher groaned, and closed his eyes as the door to the closet opened and a tousled-haired boy stumbled out.
Theoharis Buehl looked at his audience, grinned, and bowed. "Hi!"
“When the day goes by
And I do not see your face--”
The teacher paused, well aware that only one student in the room of twenty-seven was paying any attention to him. Sighing and laying the book down, he said in the tone of someone who has had a very frustrating day and needs just one more thing to break the camel’s back, “Speaking of faces, where is Theo’s?”
No one met his eyes.
He tried again, and this time his voice was sharp. "Where is Theo?" In the ensuing silence, he pinched the bridge of his nose, remembering all that useless advice that his therapist had given him during those anger management sessions. That therapist had never had to deal with a teenager like Theoharis Buehl. He turned his gaze upon one of the boys who seemed especially eager to keep from meeting his gaze. "Adorior, you wouldn't happen to know where your troublesome doppelganger is, would you?"
Slowly, unwillingly, Adorior Buehl looked up. His expression was guarded. "I don't know, sir." The teacher raised an eyebrow, and Adorior dropped his gaze. "I really don't! He wasn't at lunch. You can ask Vaschel - I was looking for Theo the entire time."
At the name, the teacher's ill mood turned even darker. He would have to question...Vaschel? The period would be over by the time the boy was done with a rant about some conspiracy with aliens and Theo being abducted. Just as unwilling as Adorior had been to meet his gaze, he turned towards a boy who had been reading Stephen Crane's The Red Badge of Courage instead of paying attention. "Is this true, Vaschel?"
The small, wiry boy looked up. If Adorior had looked guarded, Vaschel Worth looked paranoid. Then again, the teenager was paranoid, believing nothing and yet claiming everything was dangerous and/or out to get him. Sometimes it was aliens (which afterwards Vaschel would say scornfully he had never believed in), but all too often it was the government, which he was insistant was turning into a 1984 prototype. When he spoke, there was a slight sarcastic bite to his words, and at the same time almost a mournful whine, as though Vaschel regretted being pulled away from the book of the Civil War. "Rio was looking for his miscreant brother the entire lunchtime, sir."
"I see."
"Maybe you should ask Stuart?" The boy's comment was deceptively casual, but the teacher shot him a sharp look. He knew Vaschel was just trying to get him to speak to Eamon Stuart and make him the butt of everyone's jokes, for every time Eamon opened his mouth, he said something insensible. "Well, he's Theo's best friend, you'd think he'd know--"
"I don't."
Unlike the cutting undertone of Vaschel's voice, this one was soft and mellow, and the boy who had spoken matched that voice perfectly. He sat at his desk, gazing vaguely in the direction of the window, his round face serene. Still not looking at anyone, Eamon repeated, softer this time, "I don't."
"Maybe you would if you paid attention to reality," Vaschel said, his voice now harsh with sarcasm and disdain. "But no, you'd rather just stare at the sky like you expect an angel to come down and take you back to Heaven, don't you?"
A slow smile lit up the other boy's face. "That'd be nice, Value."
"My name," hissed Vaschel, "is Vaschel Worth, not Value, or Means, or Merit, but Worth! Get it right!" He glared at Eamon, and kept glaring even after the teacher shot him another look. "You really expect us to believe that you don't know where your partner-in-crime is?"
"I asked him first thing, Vas," Adorior interjected, exasperated at his best friend's attack. "He said he didn't know, and I believed him-"
Thud!
Slowly, as though afraid to, everyone turned towards the closet. Even Eamon looked away from the window to stare.
"Not...again," the teacher groaned, and closed his eyes as the door to the closet opened and a tousled-haired boy stumbled out.
Theoharis Buehl looked at his audience, grinned, and bowed. "Hi!"
