[size=9pt]School was an institution built to introduce the young population to the concept of being controlled, policed, oppressed, from a young age so that prison didn't come as as much of a shock when, inevitably, 20% of the student body ended up behind bars at some point in their life. It as a hellhole where kids went to have their spirits broken and failed poets went to become English teachers. So Moon opted the fuck out.
Mostly. But he needed to graduate. So that meant meeting the minimum attendance requirement. Two days out of the week he could be found in the janitor's closet, or under the bleachers, or in Bub's classroom pushing that insufferable bastard that bit closer to throwing in the towel and sinking back into the demon pit he came from. This was, unfortunately, one of those days. Except, today, he was in the hallways, getting in touch with his surroundings.
Moon crashed loudly into the lockers to Fey's left. The lousily built metal structure shuddered with the force, and there was the sound of muffled shouting as another Senior was dragged down the hallway by one of his friends, kicking and screaming in Moon's direction the whole way. "Come near my girlfriend again, Okoye, and I'll string you up by your shoelaces!" He yells, but the side of Moon's face is throbbing and he's pretty sure that'll bruise, so he can only lift one hand and blow the Quaterback a kiss as he's pulled around one of the corner by another jock who knows better than to wreck the Football Team's good Samaritan reputation.
He stays like that, slumped against the cool metal, until he hears a sigh to his left and rolls his head around to see someone he doesn't recognize. Which is weird-- Moon knows everyone. This one must be knew. He stares at her and waits for his vision to stop spinning in hopes he might recognize her then, but, no. Huh. Eventually, he speaks, grin sitting sloppy on his mouth. "I know," he says, laying one hand over his chest and heaving a sigh of his own. "Those Senior guys are just fuckin' dreamy, aren't they? Real charmers. Make me weak in the knees. Don't think my pickup lines are working, though."
He waits a beat before curiosity gets the better of him. Rubbing at his right cheekbone in an effort to chase away the numbness, the disheveled boy fixes the stranger with a squint. "Who're you, anyway? What brings you to these glorious hallways?"
Mostly. But he needed to graduate. So that meant meeting the minimum attendance requirement. Two days out of the week he could be found in the janitor's closet, or under the bleachers, or in Bub's classroom pushing that insufferable bastard that bit closer to throwing in the towel and sinking back into the demon pit he came from. This was, unfortunately, one of those days. Except, today, he was in the hallways, getting in touch with his surroundings.
Moon crashed loudly into the lockers to Fey's left. The lousily built metal structure shuddered with the force, and there was the sound of muffled shouting as another Senior was dragged down the hallway by one of his friends, kicking and screaming in Moon's direction the whole way. "Come near my girlfriend again, Okoye, and I'll string you up by your shoelaces!" He yells, but the side of Moon's face is throbbing and he's pretty sure that'll bruise, so he can only lift one hand and blow the Quaterback a kiss as he's pulled around one of the corner by another jock who knows better than to wreck the Football Team's good Samaritan reputation.
He stays like that, slumped against the cool metal, until he hears a sigh to his left and rolls his head around to see someone he doesn't recognize. Which is weird-- Moon knows everyone. This one must be knew. He stares at her and waits for his vision to stop spinning in hopes he might recognize her then, but, no. Huh. Eventually, he speaks, grin sitting sloppy on his mouth. "I know," he says, laying one hand over his chest and heaving a sigh of his own. "Those Senior guys are just fuckin' dreamy, aren't they? Real charmers. Make me weak in the knees. Don't think my pickup lines are working, though."
He waits a beat before curiosity gets the better of him. Rubbing at his right cheekbone in an effort to chase away the numbness, the disheveled boy fixes the stranger with a squint. "Who're you, anyway? What brings you to these glorious hallways?"
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; height: auto; text-align: center; font-family: ; font-size: 9pt; color: COLOR; letter-spacing: -.5px;"][i][b]and die like a hero going home.[glow=black,2,300]