Bless My Soul-OPEN

[butch]

D

[/color]ude sat alone in the stark white room. Well, alone besides the rather intimidating looking woman sitting at the desk up front. It had been his first class in this new school and he had already earned a detention. It was during the cosmetology class that he had signed up for on a whim. Now, being a "street-walker" for several months now he had learned a thing or two about hair. One of his best friends, Cherry, had asked him to do her hair every night and re-dye it every month. He knew how to get that stuff done and when he felt he was right Dude was the type of guy to argue with the other person until they backed down. And he quickly found out that the opinions of students, when expressed in a raised tone of voice, were not appreciated.

So here he sat, his head in his hands staring at the rather disturbing images carved into the wood of the desk he was confined to. A couple of the times in the last hour he had tried to get up the nerve to ask to go to the bathroom, because he really had to go, but every time he inhaled to speak the woman at the front shot him a death glare. She obviously didn't want to be here as much as he did and seemed unpleasant enough to rip his balls off if he even suggested such a thing as natural as taking a piss.

N[/color]ow that's not fair, for all I know she could be a fairly sweet woman. Maybe she was just having a bad day. Maybe something at home is going wrong.[/i] He was quickly distracted from his analyzation of the detention woman's life with a fresh bout of shivers. He knew that he was an addict, and being here they kept a super tight watch on what came in from the outside to the students. Dude was definitely going through withdrawal and it sucked more than anything he had ever gone through before. The headaches were never-ending, he was constantly alternating between hot and cold, and the track marks on his arms and on the extreme top of his thigh throbbed so bad all the time.

H[/color]e didn't realize that he was falling asleep until his head fell from it's precarious perch on his hands and he smacked his forehead on the desk. He let out a soft groan of pain and he looked up to see a smirk on the woman's face and her shoulders slightly shaking with laughter. Well I'm glad that someone is having a good time.[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote]

[bianca]

A scowl on her face, Bianca strode into the detention classroom, the door coming to a slam behind her. Slapping the detention slip on the desk of the woman in charge, she sat down at a desk, glaring straight ahead of her. Her first ever detention, and it was for talking back. Of course it'd be for talking back. She just couldn't keep her mouth shut, could she? And when that stupid teacher, with inexplicable knowledge of her family history, had began questioning her, she'd snapped. And of course, calling your teacher multiple expletives- in English and Italian- and questioning their intelligence was frowned upon. This was the first time she'd ever gotten detention, and she was angry- no, she was livid, seething, furious beyond belief. How could she have been so irresponsible? She was Bianca De Rossi, and Bianca De Rossi didn't get detentions.

Looking at the other student in detention out of the corner of her eye, she wondered what had gotten him here. He didn't appear to be any happier to be there than she was, and for some reason, she got a bit of satisfaction knowing that. Her eyes flicked down to her desk, and her nose crinkled in distaste. Of course there would be crude writing and drawings carved into the desk she chose. Of course. Scowling, she looked back up, eyes searching for a clock. What time was it, and how much longer would she be in this legal form of hell?

Sighing, knowing that being angry would only be another waste of time, Bianca looked down at her nails, nose crinkling yet again in distaste. Three months without a proper manicure was taking it's toll on her poor hands, and her nails looked dreadful. Especially with that work in mechanics she was doing. What had possessed her to sign up for that class? It clearly wasn't something she enjoyed; every class ended with her filthy and covered in grease. Yet, something had pushed her to it. Music, clearly, would have been a waste of her time. She doubted this place could teach her anything new in that department. Art wasn't her thing, and really, nothing else had stuck out to her. But then, she'd seen mechanics. And hadn't her grandfather always told her that knowing how a car works was vital? After all, knowing how to identify things that shouldn't be on his car had kept him from dying more than once. Maybe mechanics could be useful for something after all.

Tapping her nails on the desk, Bianca hummed softly. If she was going to be stuck here, she at least had to be able to entertain herself a bit. The words to La Vie En Rose- the French version, not the English- came to her mind, and she found herself humming the tune softly, fingers tracing the letters of the lyrics on the desk. That song was about the only French she knew, but she knew it well. After all, it'd been her favorite song throughout her childhood, and Nonna had taught it to her. By now, it seemed impossible to forget.

[Skylar Brown]

Skylar Elizabeth Brown

(Cause Ain't No way I'm Let You Stop Me From Causing Mayhem)
(When I Say 'em Or Do Something I Do It, I Don't Give A)

[/size]
(Damn What You Think, I'm Doing This For Me, So F*ck The World)

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So apparently tackling a guy down the front steps only landed you one week in isolation, as well as a broken nose, three cracked ribs, and a broken leg. Lovely. Also apparently, if you tried to throw the new kid down the stair well after that, you got two weeks in isolation, and a months worth of detention. It hardly seems fair to Skylar, why have a bunch of kids in a school with a bunch of stairs if Skylar couldn't take her frustations out by tackling/throwing them down the stairs?! They couldn't just throw a bunch of voilent teenagers into a locked down school and think they're not going to fight. Though she didn't think either of those two times were a fight, it was just her getting pissed off.

So when the level four walked into detention, walked straight over to her normal chair and sat down, pulling out her math text book, the woman didn't seem surprised. Skylar still had two more weeks of detention left to go.. Unless of course she found some other poor kid on the stairs on a bad day.. Which for Skylar is any day that happens to end in Y. But maybe.. Maybe she'd try to stay out of trouble. As highly unlikely as it may seem.. Skylar had a date to the Sadie Hawkins dance coming up, and she didn't want to have to use the excuse "no I have dentention" to not go.. If she was going to not go she'd just tell Liam she didn't want to go. But she did want to go, why the hell did she want to go? She was really beginning to hate Liam just for the fact that she liked him.

Skylar's copied a whole bunch of problems from the book onto her notebook, writing clearly and neatly. When she had about fifthy of them writen down she closed the book and shoved it back into her bag. She glanced around at the others in the room. She'd never seen them before, but she wasn't about to start making friends with him. No, she had one friend, that was enough to last her.. the restof her life. Skylar looked down at her notebook and began doing the problems. She knew the work, and the problems were easy for her, so why she was doing them she really had no idea. But math seemed like a better idea than writing more crude and discusting things on the desk tops, so she figured she'd at least be ahead of most of the people that came to the detention hall in the headmasters book.

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[butch]

Finally a break in the monotony presented itself when a young girl walked in. Dude thought the word "young" but she was probably around the same age as he was, maybe a little older. He was sitting there subconsciously massaging the inside of arms where the ache was most pronounced. And then he realized that he was actually checking her out. His felt like he was going to burn a hole in the back of the girl's head. He had only had a glimpse of her face and she looked pretty pissed, but she was still very pretty. Hell, all the girls here seem to be pretty. But also, strangely, scary as hell. As he understood there was someone who had killed someone or something. This was a messed up place and he felt very out of place.

This thought was only solidified when the scariest looking one of the bunch walked into the room, sat down, and started grumpily copying things from a book to a paper. Oh, but she didn't start her work before she could cast a leering glare over the room. Dude hadn't actually seen any of the scarier kids at this school, but now he could tick that mark off his list of things to do in this crazy mixed up world of ours.

D

[/color]ude's bladder felt lke it was going to explode. Literally. It kind of felt like if he got up he would just wet himself all over. He made a small noise that was a cross between a whimper and a cough and started to squirm in his seat worse that he had been doing previously. This is ridiculous, why don't I just ask? Those words, along with a million images of streams and waterfalls and urinals and other piss related objects, were the only things running through his mind. Oh, and the hot girl that was seated in front of him.

Unable to stand it anymore, Dude stood up to his full, unimpressive, 5'6" and walked smoothly to the front of the room, trying to appear suave in front of the ladies and mostly succeeding. He couldn't help but notice that the pretty (not scary) girl smelled divine as he passed. When the woman didn't look up he made a small noise again, though this one was all couch and no whimper. "Excuse me miss, may I be so inclined as to use the facilities?" His left leg slightly twitched, inclined toward doing the pee-pee dance, but Dude tried to stomp on the urge.[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote]

[bianca]

Tapping her fingers on the desk, Bianca continued her humming. She hadn't been told to stop, and unless she was, she wouldn't. It wasn't as if she was loud, or irritating. Besides, it kept her from carving vulgar sayings into the desk, as other students apparently had. The very thought made her crinkle her nose. Mess up her nails even more by scratching this stupid, ugly desk? Not going to happen. If nothing else, she had dignity, and that would keep her from stooping that low. A small smile came over her face, and her nose uncrinkled, as she felt the eyes on the back of her head. She wasn't her if it was because she was tall, and it was an attempt to see over her, or something else. Still, being stared at was nothing new to her, and didn't disturb her at all.

At five foot nine, she was by no means short, and that was only enhanced by the heels she always wore. With the heels, she was always at least five foot eleven, if not taller. She loved towering over others, having height over them, if nothing else. And heels were just generally more attractive shoes. They were always designed so prettily, especially the ones she bought. Oh, she could go on for shoes for hours, couldn't she?

An eyebrow raised as another student entered the detention classroom. Another girl, one that Bianca had yet to get to know. Of course, this girl seemed rather unpleasant. She gave off an air of anger and hatred, both emotions the socialite tried to avoid associating herself with. Though, Bianca had to admit she liked the girl's hair. Red hair seemed so exotic, so strange to her, having grown up surrounded by dark hair. She wondered if it was natural, or dyed. For some reason, she wasn't sure asking was the best idea. As the other girl sat, glaring at the room, she shrugged. It didn't bother her at all. Though, as the other girl started working, she wished that she'd thought to bring a textbook or something.

Blinking, Bianca watched as the boy behind her stood, and moved to the front of the class. He was definitely shorter than her. Smiling at him as he passed, her eyes followed him. A small, very amused laugh, escaped her, and her hand moved to cover her mouth, as he spoke. Running a hand through her hair, she began humming again. She needed to have a proper spa day. She was sure her hair had split ends, not to mention the fact that she hadn't had a massage in months. And her skin! Oh, it had to be just wretched. Her pores were probably huge. Looking over at the other girl, she wondered if she had a beauty regimen. And now she had to wonder if that was a safe question to ask as well.