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    From St. Joan

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    Sophie

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    From St. Joan

    Post by Sophie on July 23rd 2011, 12:06 am

    Escher

    Escher was a normal kid.
    He grew up in a warm family with both parents and a doting sister. Average.

    But by some stroke of un-average luck, Escher managed to get accepted into the most prestigious schools in California. He attended St. Joan, a large brick building filled with spoiled kids and a few poor paupers. Escher supposed he landed in the ‘poor pauper’ category, since the only reason he had been accepted was because of his unreasonably high testing scores. Anyhow, St. Joan was a school where the uniform costs alone were more then the tuition of a private high school, and a place where meals were literally served to the students on silver platters. Not that the prices mattered to Escher-- he had gotten there on a scholarship. The things that effected him had more of a human appearance.

    Escher remembered the first day he walked through the doors of the imposing school. Those grand, arching doors seemed to loom over him, as if sneering at Escher’s audacity to walk though the doorwell. But he didn’t mind all this. Escher was much too preoccupied by the map in his hands, desperately trying to find Room 5 amid all the chaos.

    “Oh, are you lost?” A female voice asked.
    “I think so, just look at the confused expression on his face.” Turning, Escher saw that a group of students were looking at him expectantly.
    “You’re new, aren’t you?” A third voice chimed in. (He couldn’t really say ‘chimed,’ since it was more like... muttered.)

    He had forgotten that St. Joan was a K-12 school, and that most of the kids there had been attending since kindergarten.

    “Aha! Fresh blood!”
    “Lashen, don’t say that! Look, you’re scaring him!”
    “Don’t mind what Jenny’s saying~ She’s the only one you have to look out for~”
    “No, only Lashen is.”
    “Shut up Spiro. You’re not one to talk.” The boy who Escher assumed to be Lashen shot back, all the while grinning.
    “What class are you in?” The girl asked again, her attention back to the lost boy.
    “Room 5.”
    “You’re in the same class with Spiro, Jenny, and me then.”
    “You should walk with us...?” Jenny paused, “Mister...?”
    “Escher.”
    “You should walk with us, Escher. It’s been awhile since any of us have met someone new.” Jenny smiled, “But I should warn you, Lashen and Spiro are pretty crazy.”
    “So I gather.” Escher laughed, taking a few strides to match his pace with the other three.

    Pretty soon, Escher learned that Jenny hadn’t been exaggerating. The cheerful student that had greeted Escher first turned out to be Lashen Fields, a poetic maestro. Spiro Lenter, the quiet boy standing at the side was a mathematical genius. Jenny Risland, ironically enough, was pretty outstanding in her own right. She had won close to five pageants in the past year. Upon discovering all this about his friends, Escher had exclaimed to Lashen that they were amazing. Lashen had simply laughed it off.

    “Such accomplishments are expected of all students who attend St. Joan, you silly.”
    “I see...”

    But Escher didn’t really ‘see.’ Since everyone in his ‘posse’ seemed to have a talent, Escher probably had to have one too.

    Probably.

    “Hey, I did pretty well on this test! How about you Lashen?” Escher grinned, half-running over to the desk where his friend sat. Moping.
    “Aw man, my old man’s gonna kill me when he sees these scores.”
    “What did you get?”
    “Freaking 94% Spiro, if you must ask.”
    “Poor Lashen. Such a dunce.” Spiro sighed dramatically, looking at Lashen’s test paper in his hands. “He can’t even solve a simple proof.”
    “It’s math, okay? I’m allowed to be bad at it.” Lashen replied, pouting.
    Escher looked at the paper in his hands that screamed 93%. He had been pretty proud of that number, but now it was low. So accusingly low.

    So maybe math wasn’t his strong point.

    “Lemme see that!” Lashen pounced on the sheet of paper that Spiro had left unguarded on their lunch table.
    “No, go away dammit!”
    “Aww, our Spiro wrote a poem~ Who’s it for?”
    “Not telling. Go away.” Spiro muttered, pushing the approaching Escher away from him. “It’s just something I scrawled okay? I can’t possibly write as well as Lashen.”
    “Haha, get a load of this:
    Four is charm
    Two twos
    Four friends
    Who alw--”
    Spiro grabbed the paper from Lashen’s hands, blushing furiously.
    “Is he talking about us, Lashen?” Escher turned towards his accomplice, stifling his laughter.
    “I dunno Escher, he seemed pretty serious about it.” Came the response, evidently about to burst into laughter as well.
    “Poor Spiro-”
    “-Even in his confessions, he’s still just a math nerd.”
    “But it’s okay, we accept your declaration of love~”
    “S-shut up.”

    Escher had laughed at the time, but looking back, he realized how talented Spiro was. Each of his friends were so gifted. So different from what he was--the one without talent.

    “What are you talking about? You’re plenty talented!” Jenny had pouted, when Escher had once voiced his complaints. “I mean, look at how cute you are!” she ruffled his brown hair.
    “If you’d let Jenny give you a makeover, I bet you would have girls all over you~” Lashen teased, “Right Spiro?”
    The stoic math specialist nodded.
    “What? What’s wrong with the way I dress?” The four had just finished their weekly excursion to beach, so no one had been wearing their typical uniform. Escher couldn’t see what was wrong with his plain t-shirt and jeans, but his puzzled expression only led Jenny and Lashen to burst into laughter. Even the expressionless Spiro looked amused.

    But Escher would not be content with simply being... ‘cute.’ He wanted to be different, and just as outstanding as his friends. If his friends were all Since St. Joan was an academics driven institution, Escher would stand out by being athletic.

    “What do you want, kid?”
    “A place on your team, sir.”
    “Can you handle it? My boys are pretty tough.”
    “Yes, sir.”

    And then Escher discovered his talent.

    “55 seconds? And how long ago did you say you started to swim?”
    “Last month, sir.”
    “55 seconds on the 100 meter swim...” one of the other team members whistled, “Not bad.”

    He had practiced tirelessly. So much so that his brown hair began to turn blond from the chlorine, and his previously undefined arms began to show the results of his training.

    “46 seconds! The regional record!” The speakerphone blared as Escher, barely standing in the shoulder-deep water lifted his head for much deserved gasps of air. He glanced over at the black board, the board filled with red numbers to see if he was hearing correctly. Forty-six seconds. Regional record. Finally. Finally he had managed to achieve something. He dunked his head again into the luke-warm water to hide the tears.

    He took the golden trophy home, and placed it carefully on his empty fireplace mantle.

    But just excelling at swimming wasn’t good enough. So Escher continued to practice training himself. Soon enough, he had expanded his repertoire to include volleyball, then soccer, baseball, basketball, football, judo, hell, he had even tried archery.

    “Wow, Escher, you’ve been busy, haven’t you?” Lashen punched Escher’s shoulder lightly. “It’s like we never see you any more, bro.”
    “Sorry...” Escher muttered an apology. He had finally decided to settle on swimming, soccer and basketball. But, with each additional sport, he had to dedicate more and more of his time to the team.

    Escher was happy with his achievements, but he couldn’t help but feel lonely as his friends laughed at inside jokes that had developed without him.

    He had to stop. But Escher couldn’t. In his mind, the sports were the only thing that made his friendship with his talented friends valid. If he didn’t play those sports, then he wasn’t eligible to within that circle of talent.

    The flashing lights barely registered in his mind as Escher lined up his arm for the final shot.
    Sweat dripped down his face, and out of the corner of his mind he could see the red sign counting down the seconds--no, the milliseconds until the end of the game.
    His hands moved on reflex, the reflex trained on hours and hours of shots, and he could hear the swish of the nylon net.
    Then the lights engulfed him.

    “Everyone, make way for the ace of the basketball team!”
    “Ace! Ace! Ace!”
    He was carried out of the stadium on the shoulders of his teammates and the cheers of the crowd. Escher carried the gold trophy with pride, and placed it on the mantle. Except now, the mantle wasn’t empty anymore. It was lined with trophies and ribbons and certificates, proof of how qualified he was.

    “Escher, I need to talk with you.”
    “Hm?”
    “I have a pageant coming up.”
    “Oh... yes?”
    “Yup.”
    “Good... good luck.”
    “You can wish me that on Saturday.”
    “W-what?”
    “I want you to come. Cheer me on. I’ve even got you and the other guys special tickets! We haven’t seen you in so long and I--we miss you. We haven’t been able to talk in ages.”
    “But I’m...” Escher began to protest, but found himself looking into a pair of suspiciously puppy-dog-esque eyes. “I’m... delighted you asked.”
    “Alright! I’ll see you this weekend then!” Jenny laughed, waving goodbye.
    It was Friday evening. Escher had just finished his daily swim practice, and was trudging back to his small apartment room. Night had begun to fall, and the whole Earth was covered in a reddish hue. He had to get back to his room quickly, so he could sleep and be awake for Jenny’s pageant the next day.

    “...no, stop! Stop it!”

    Escher looked up from his path. The voice was suspiciously familiar, and it sounded worryingly scared. He followed the sounds to a back alleyway.

    “Leave me alone!”
    “Why should I, Jenny? I want you! You’re mine! Only mine!” The man was holding a knife, hands shaking violently. “Only mine!”
    “Hey man, buzz off.”
    “Escher!” Jenny’s voice seemed on the edge of tears. “You... you’re late, idiot!”
    “Is... is he your boyfriend?”
    “No, I’m just a friend. And you’re harassing my friend. If you don’t want us to report you, back off.”
    “Well, if I can’t have Jenny, no one can!” The man lunged at Escher, knife in hand.
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    Sophie

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    Re: From St. Joan

    Post by Sophie on July 23rd 2011, 7:14 pm

    Lashen

    I’m a ladies man.
    What can I can say? The girls... they just love me. It might have something to do with my looks, I guess. Tall, wavy (curly?) brown hair, blue eyes, I’m the typical teenager. Typical, except for the fact that I go to St. Joan’s.

    My Dad’s the owner of a large computer firm, so getting into the school was a pretty easy task. He had wanted me to go into math curriculum there.

    “Math, boy, is the future.”

    Heh, how many times had that been drilled into my head?

    Even so, I had been a rebellious twerp. Once when I was four, I had actually snuck into the library and took a copy of Romeo and Juliet. I didn’t understand a word of the thing back then, but even now, I can remember how the words sang to me that night.

    Ah, sorry, I got a bit sidetracked there.
    Anyways.
    I’m a ladies man.

    Can’t help it, even though Spiro and Escher sometimes fume over my lack of availability on Friday nights and the weekends.

    But that’s not the big problem right now.
    The big problem right now is that I’m a ladies man.

    And I have a stalker.
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    Sophie

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    Re: From St. Joan

    Post by Sophie on July 23rd 2011, 7:14 pm

    Spiro

    He woke to symphonies of crashing glass and arias of screaming women.
    Every single damned day.

    Spiro was pretty sure that he didn’t live the life that normal nineteen year olds lead. In fact, the chances that he lead a normal life were about .3%. When his father had heard him muttering this, the man had only laughed in his drunken stupor.

    “Freaks like you should hide, kid. As your father, I’m responsible for teaching you.”
    Spiro learned to stop talking in front of his father.

    As a kid, with no one else to rely on, Spiro found his only source of comfort in the certainty of numbers. The numbers never lied. With correct calculations, the numbers could show him anything.

    Anything.

    For example, Spiro had calculated that he had a 31.4% chance of testing in to St. Joan’s. With his poor background, and shitty parents, there would be little chance of interest from the highly prestigious school. Spiro had almost given up on taking the entrance test at all. He never did anything unless the odds were over 75%. Spiro didn’t like taking chances-- his father had taught him that with his pathetic gambling addiction. Ironically enough, it was also his sad excuse of a father that persuaded him to take the entrance test.

    “Where you been?”
    “Nowhere.” Spiro muttered, walking quickly into the house. He had to go up the stairs fast... his father couldn’t catch him on the second floor.
    “I asked, where. you. been?” Father snapped, seemingly insulted that his son had just snubbed him.
    “Why do you care, old man?”
    “I care, because I’m your father.”
    “Some father.”
    “What did you say?” Father’s voice was low, threateningly low. Spiro felt the adrenaline beginning to rise in his system. If his father attacked him now, Spiro had only a 34.2% chance of getting to safety.
    “Nothing, father.”
    “Oh, aren’t we getting suddenly polite now.”
    “I’m sorr-”
    “I know what you’re thinking. ‘My old man’s all drunk and stupid, so I can just be rude and come home whenever I like.’ Well, newsflash, rude boy, this father is no idiot.”
    “I never sai-”
    “Don’t you interrupt me.” The man stood, advancing towards Spiro. “You need to be disciplined. You’re becoming uncontrollable.”

    Spiro couldn’t run now. He had no strength, and with only a 15.0% chance of actually escaping, it would be better to just face the beating. Better with a few bruises and burns then dead.

    “Simply uncontrollable.” Father repeated, raising his hand with the empty beer bottle.

    Better with a few bruises and burns then dea--
    The world turned a strange red and white color as Spiro fell to the ground.


    Last edited by Sophie on July 23rd 2011, 7:50 pm; edited 2 times in total
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    Sophie

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    Re: From St. Joan

    Post by Sophie on July 23rd 2011, 7:15 pm

    Jenny

    (adding stuff here later)
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    iKevinly
    Smiley War
    Smiley War

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    Re: From St. Joan

    Post by iKevinly on July 24th 2011, 12:42 am

    Sophie wrote:Lashen

    Lashen.
    Lashen.
    Lashen.
    Lashen.
    Lashen.
    Lashen.


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    Everyone will smile,
    And everyone will be happy in the world,
    And I will be engulfed with No Alarms and No Surprises.
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    Ketchup Girl
    Master
    Master

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    Re: From St. Joan

    Post by Ketchup Girl on July 28th 2011, 12:29 pm

    Is there a discussion forum for this story or do we discuss here? (Or is discussion forbidden?)
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    Sophie

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    Re: From St. Joan

    Post by Sophie on July 28th 2011, 12:31 pm

    Discuss away~


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    nerdfighter73

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    Re: From St. Joan

    Post by nerdfighter73 on August 7th 2011, 5:20 pm

    Pollution
    When you litter
    You harm the earth.
    You create more problems
    Than all your possessions are worth.
    Pesticides in the atmosphere,
    Cigarette butts on the street,
    Make our weather crazy
    And destroy the food we eat.
    Remember the 3 R's
    Reduce, recycle, reuse.
    Everyone will be happy
    If you pick up your refuse.
    Our grass is turning brown,
    Our water is turning green,
    Garbage is filling up the planet,
    And making it unclean.
    Recycle all your waste!
    Don't be apathetic, you loons!
    We need our planet to be healthy,
    Or else we're all just doomed.
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    Sophie

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    Re: From St. Joan

    Post by Sophie on August 7th 2011, 9:29 pm

    AHH SO BEAUTIFUL. WANT

    I'm going to make this it's own thread so it gets all the glory, okay? :D


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    Re: From St. Joan

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