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Her cursing and rude manner was immediately filed under 'American' in his brain and written off as normal, the stagnant and calm expression on his face unwavering. Even when her hand was shoved directly into his face, he showed little concern for it aside from a slight recoil of his head due to a distinct smell of iron that came off of them. He had assumed this was from the blood and bandages, gazing past the hand to her again.
"Why would you want such a thing, with a chainsaw? I can think of more enjoyable ways to experience- Ah! An American saying. Pardon me.." He immediately retracted his statement, even in the process of stating it. At her following question, he obediently nods his head and proceeds to make more of an effort to fimish the food he was eating.
Desperate to be included, the objective of skippng his new classes slipped his mind, which was now occupied by the thought of accompanying her. While he ate, he could see the skin of her thighs in his peripheral vision and did his best to respect her, not allowing his gaze to stray from his food.
Jaques pushed himself up from the seat he had taken moments ago with a now empty tray, standing at his full height and towering over the table, along with the girl seated upon it. The tray he had eaten from was idly resting on his palms.
"What am I required to do with this? Is there a place we need to place them..?" He turned to look around the lunchroom to find a trashcan, still oblivious to the stares of the ones around them. After finding what he required, he trotted over to dump it inside without a second thought, believing it to be disposable, before returning back to the girl.
[size12 She's wasn't surprised by his foolish decision. As most people wouldn't have chosen the filthy floor over a somewhat clean chair. Although, she suspected if he actually knew about her dreadful reputation, he'd have gone and never look back. But he's here now and chattering off her eardrums with useless information. Oh, wait. His name is probably something she should know. Especially if there's a minimal chance some illegal activities might go down during their little misadventure. Another strike on that permanent record, goodbye freedom.]
[size12 Regardless, his annoying voice combine with his slight accent is steadily destroying her nerves. So in a simple gesture of silenting 'Jaques', Schuyler raises her right hand up to his face. Her fingers are petite and her fingernails are painted a sublime shade of ebony.]
[size12 A disgruntled look is shot his way, then, "Fuck me gently with a chainsaw, do I look like Mother Teresa? I don't have time to play tour guide for you. Nor do I give a shit about your problems. And yes, that's how you pronounce my name." There's a pause as she breathes. Her temper is almost erupting and it's not completely his fault. It's the stares too. "Can you just hurry up? I'm ready to leave. I can't stand their rubbernecking a moment longer."]
Contemplating the options, her posture, the bandages and the floor, he gazes towards a seat and slowly moves to sit again in the seat he had previously moved from. He saw no issue with hanging out with this girl and knew not of the concequences. "I.. Wouldn't mind accompanying you if you could show me around. I'm sure my teachers would be a bit more lenient.. Since I've not a clue where any of these rooms are. I wasn't given a guide or anything and I've gotten lost already.." He continues with the soft tone and volume, finding an increase in it to be overall pointless due to their closer proximity.
With a small nod, he looks up to her eyes again and speaks with a bit more clarity. "I shall take you up on this. My name is Jaques and it's a pleasure to meet you, Miss.. Schuyler? Am I pronouncing that correctly?" He asks her with a genuine curiousity, his innocence and naive nature becoming prevalent in this initial conversation. He ignored her bandages and seemed to be focused on her face, observing her features and the frame of her body.
Not wishing to stare, the boy places his tray out of her way and begins eating the dry and bland school food. He didn't seem to mind much of anything and wasn't phased by the looks of everyone around them, the food, or the tone she took when they spoke.
"I appreciate the kindness.. I'm new to the country as well." This last phrase was muttered out a bit quickly in between two bites he took, eyes glancing up at her every so often.
[size12 What transpires next is painfully obvious. The scrub obeys her order and stands up. Schuyler, good to her nature, perches her darling booty upon the table itself. In a sense reclaiming her throne from someone should have known better. No matter. She stares ahead, oblivious to the person that hasn't rightfully fled yet. It wasn't until his meek voice is grating upon her ears does she spare him a glance.]
[size12 [i 'What? First day?,'] she thought. [i 'That would make him the..'] A ghost of a smile slithers across her cruel features before slipping back into its usual scowl. "Oh, so you're the guppy." This time, her voice is monotone. Dry and empty. She continues, "Hence you don't your place around me, Schuyler." Her name should be meaningless to him. For everyone strangely avoided her as a topic for gossiping.]
[size12 This is why she crosses her legs in front of him.]
[size12 Because she knew her pleated skirt would slightly ride up her thighs, which in turn would reveal more of the bloodied bandages that decorated her legs. "I'm feeling nice today." A lie. "So I'm gonna offer you an ultimatum. If you sit with me, you must hangout with me after lunch. I'm skipping my classes and I could... do with some company. Or you can just sit on the floor until lunch is over." Her monotone voice remains unchanged, her eyes however, they held a certain sparkle now.]
The dark tone in the girl's voice startled Jaques. He blinked multiple times at her and his head tilted to one side, unsure of how to respond. 'Americans are quite up front about things,' he thought to himself. He pushes himself up from the seat with his tray in hand, standing beside the table now but unable to move anywhere else. The surrounding tables were occupied and he became keenly aware of the eyes that were on him now, their peers eyeing the two of them to see how the interaction would play out.
"Excuse me.. But there isn't anywhere else to sit." His voice was soft and gentle, the volume of it almost indistinguishable in the dull roar of the lunchroom. Unknown to the girl and unaware of her reputation around the school, he proceeded as he would with anyone else. "I apologize if I've offended somehow. This is my first day and I wasn't sure if there was some sort of procedure or order to where someone would sit in here. I assumed if the spot wasn't taken.."
His voice trailed off as he gazed down to his food and then back to the girl across from him, unsure of what to do or say next.
[size12 The melodious scream of the lunch bell echoed throughout Westerburg High. It symbolized two separate upcoming events. One: Teachers would assemble inside their happy place, the teacher's lounge, pop loads of migraine pills, and inhale inexpensive cigarettes. Two and most important of all: It's lunchtime.]
[size12 A swarm of students flooded the hallways. Their chatter is thunderous. Their happiness is infectious. Their sociable behavior is downright disgusting. Schuyler couldn't stand observing such bullshit, and she didn't. The Monster flounced through the corridor. Students parted as she passed, akin to how Moses divided the Red Sea. Her expression is foul. [i What she wouldn't give for death.]]
[size12 Upon reaching her destination, Schuyler is struck down with an unanticipated dilemma. Her [u table] is currently occupied. By some fucking delicate dipstick. She's beyond pissed now. As nobody's allow to sit there. Or at least that's the unspoken agreement among her peers. So she marches forward. The lunchroom is noisy and nobody is brave enough to assist the fool.]
[size12 Within a matter of seconds, Schuyler stood on the other side of the table, her dull eyes were narrowed into a merciless glare. "Move." The phrase is spat out.]
Slipping from the car that had brought him around to the front of the campus, the lanky boy leans back into the vehicle to grab his hefty bag. After slinging the pack over his shoulders, he mutters a quiet 'Au revoir' before shutting the door on his mother inside. With a quick pivot of his heel, he started towards the imposing building ahead.
With blue SkullCandy earbuds in his ears, he pulled out his phone and turned on a playlist of soft R&B music, the volume low to allow him to hear past it. Jaques was his name. This boy had travelled across the Atlantic with his family to America in hopes of finding a new, more prosperous life, away from the troubles and worries of his past.
In his home country of France, his father was a war criminal. Convicted of committing atrocities and crimes against his own species. He would have been put to death, had it not been for their timely departure from the country. His mother was simple, and office worker for a credit card company who was just following along with whate very happened.
Jaques had just been along for the ride. He didn't understand his father, nor did he wish to since he vanished soon after arriving in country. The boy was left alone to care for his mother, the only family member he had left.
He reached one hand up to brush his medium length hair from his eyes, his transparent-rimmed glasses catching the light momentarily as his free hand went towards the pushbar of the exterior door. He wore a tan, lighter version of a peacoat to break the crisp autumn wind with a white button up underneath. Below his waist, he wore a dark pair of close fitting slacks and a slightly beat up pair of black Converse sneakers, the won canvas covered in white and silver Sharpie writing from his old classmates and former friends that he had to leave behind.
The sneakers squeaked softly as he entered the tiled hallway, immediately greeted by one of the overly-enthusiastic members on the receiving end of his foreign exchange program. The pair began discussing his schedule and class arrangements while they walked to his first period, the bell having already rang, the hallways mainly empty.
[size12 It's seven forty-five am, on a Monday.]
[size12 There are beams of sunlight perforating through the luxurious windows of Westerburg High School. Countless students are gathered around their lockers, forming their own little cliques and obstructing the hallways. The Lisa Simpson Drama Club Wannabes, Meat-headed Jocks, the Marthas, Goths, Suffering Artists, Cheerleaders, Teacher Pets, Nerds, Bottom-of-the-barrel Geeks, Class Clowns. There's a personalized group for every student mass-produced by teenagers from another era. It's a perfect ecosystem until the lone outcast storms through.]
[size12 An oversized hoodie hung loosely around the shoulders of young, beautiful maiden. Beneath the thick folds of her sweater a white button shirt could be spotted. Along with a pleated skirt that barely touched her knees. Her auburn hair is elegantly arranged into a high ponytail. Indeed, she's divine and⸻]
[size12 [b WHAM!]]
[size12 ⸻that same exquisite woman has just shoved another student into there locker because they dared to block her path. The bloodied bandages around her legs and neck do create a moment of concern among her peers, that is until they're also able to assess the vicious expression gracing her gentle features. Eventually the standoff is over. The dreaded beast strides away, head held high and hands warped into tight fists.]
[size12 It's just another day at Westerburg High School.]
[size12 Then the rumors of a new transfer begin floating around the hallways. Schuyler, the Brutal Monster, disregards this gossip as it's uninteresting. Why should she care about a fresh guppie? For they're bound to be ingested by one these mindless clans, or simply be smashed by her. She hums, bemused, and enters homeroom with such swag that several boys whistle. Again, her snubbing meter is working overtime. Schuyler grabs her favorite seat located in the far back, next to an empty table that nobody in the right mind would have taken.]
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