This ain’t so bad [OPEN]

[francescabianchi]

Frankie sat in the stairwell, looking dejectedly at her legs. She hated kilts. They were itchy, and always made her look about 12. More than the kilts, she hated knee socks, they never managed to stay up, and since her arrival at the school, Frankie had tugged hers from around her ankles more times than she could count. It was a pain in the ass, that’s what it was. She leaned all the way back, resting her head on a stair behind her, and looked up at the ceiling. In theory, she was supposed to be in class. Chemistry to be exact, but though this school was supposed to be stricter and tougher than a normal school, as far as she could tell, there was still nothing stopping her from just not going to class when she wasn’t feeling it.

The place itself wasn’t so bad, she had Paps, and therefore had access to the best food she could think of, the dorms were decent, the teachers seemed alright, and even if there was no cheer team, they did have track, so she at least still had one outlet. As for the other students, that was still up in the air for her. She’d not really had a chance to talk to anyone other than a passing ‘Hey’ in the halls. As far as she could tell, they were the same as high school kids anywhere, just as diverse in attitudes and classes. And after she herself had been designated a Level Three, the second highest there was, she didn’t put too much stock in the school’s assessment of Levels. Other than one minor flip out, Frankie was a normal girl, so it stood to reason that there were plenty of other people like her. What’s more, she’d never shied away from people simply because some others would call them shady. She thrived on it. It was different.

She hadn’t been at the school long, and had thus far, been spending her time trying to get the lay of the place down, or quelling her homesickness by hanging out in the kitchens, stuffing her face and bullshitting with Paps. She missed the bustle of her family, but she was slowly getting used to it. Her dark eyes followed the path of a moth as it scuttled across the ceiling towards a light. It was probably about time she get over feeling unsettled here. For the next two years this was her home. She’d may as well make the best of it. She should probably get on that, staring at a bug eminent suicide probably wasn’t going to make her any new friends. Right, time to get up Frankie, find someone to talk too. She sat up, smoothing the back of her short hair and brushing off some of dust from the stairs that settled on her shoulder. She took a moment to glare at the sock that was slowly slipping down he calf before she reached down and wrenched it up. Her head cocked to the side as she heard footsteps coming up the stairwell and hoped she wasn’t about to get told off for ditching class by a wandering teacher. Though not pleasant, the thought didn’t inspire her to dash off. If anything, it made her curious to see how tough staff members here actually were. She settled back down, reverting back to staring at the ceiling. And if not a teacher, well, then it just saved her the need to go looking for someone.[/size].

[animalityopera]

A lanky figure strode the hall with the arrogant strut of a punk who didn't give a damn - and this was not far from the reality of the young man. Considering his not-so-subtle disregard for the dress code and his wild mess of auburn hair, it was clear this was a youth who belonged at Blackwood Academy for Delinquents. Devan wore the slacks and the dress shirt, two items he was actually quite fond of, along with the tie, which he was not so attached to... but the collar of the shirt hung open three buttons and the tie was dragged down clear of the opening so that it was merely draped about his collar. And instead of either the boots or the shining, black, dress shoes, well-worn Converse padded across the floor. The sneakers were once a denim blue color but were so faded and stained they now looked almost gray.

For Devan, now was the hour of General Ecology, but he had decided to omit the class for today. He had spent his first few weeks at the school periodically skipping classes to explore it; it was such an expansive place that even after a number of weeks Devan was still finding nooks and crannies he hadn't seen before. He liked to be familiar with his surroundings, and if he was going to be kept in here for at least two years surrounded by other unstable adolescents he definitely wanted to know his way around. Now he came across a set of stairs as he moved through the halls. He cast a brief glance down from where he had come to double check he wasn't being followed before beginning on the stairway. As he rounded the corner to start on the second half of the stairs he paused, freezing like a predator caught in its ambush.

Dark eyes studied the lithe form perched at the top of the stairs, habitually scanning for signs of a weapon despite that no student here was permitted to have anything remotely close. The girl sat with posture stricken by boredom, staring distantly at the ceiling. Devan followed her gaze to a moth throwing itself at a light there... but it wasn't long before his focus drifted back to the dark-haired student. Devan had been paying little mind to stealth, so the girl must have heard him coming... And she must have been skipping class, too, to be hiding away up here at this time of day. But not so much as a hint of a smile found its way into his features; without yet knowing how much of a threat this fellow student was, Devan was hesitant to offer any sign he wasn't a threat himself.

[francescabianchi]

The footsteps stopped, and Frankie didn’t need to sit up or turn her head to know whoever it was just standing there, you could feel the change in the air, the atmosphere altering slightly now that she wasn’t alone. She waited, expecting whoever was there to speak first. When the silence droned on, she figured it must be a student. A teacher would surely have spoken up already, told her off for not being in class where she was supposed to be.

Slowly, she sat up, her dark eyes coming to rest on a teenaged student with a loosened tie, wild looking hair, and a battered pair of converse that were certainly fair from dress code compliant. Despite the fact that he was regarding her with a deadpan, verging on intense expression, and hadn’t said word, choosing to stare at her in silence, Frankie instantly liked the guy. She wasn’t exactly hard to please, he was skipping class, and was taking liberties with his appearance, testing the limits of what the teachers and staff would allow. Which were both things that in her mind, added up to a free spirited rabble rouser. And for someone used to having a wide and diverse group of friends at her disposal, she wasn’t going to turn up her nose at any potential people that came around to fill the now vacant spots in her friends roster.

As she’d earlier observed, she often found that the students here were no different than anyone else. Perhaps if she had a shred of self preservation, she would feel more uneasy about being alone with someone who could have done, well, anything to be frank. For all she knew, the boy at the base of the stairs wasn’t, as she assumed, a free spirited trouble maker who was essentially harmless, but a knife wielding psychopath who was simply waiting for an opportunity to attack someone. But, as self preservation was in short supply for her, she would take the boy at face value, and just assume that her first impression was right. There was a small voice in the back of her head yammering on about kicking him in the nuts and bolting, should her initial impression proved incorrect, but it was a quiet voice, and one that Frankie often ignored.

She smiled a little, brushing the dust off her shoulders again as she sat up straight and looked down at the guy. “You planning on just standing there staring all period, or are you going to, I don’t know, say hi, introduce yourself, and all the other ‘social conventions’ BS?” she said with a lighthearted grin. Her nose scrunched slightly as she saw the damned knee sock creeping down her leg, and annoyed, she wrenched it back up into place before leaning back, bracing her hands on the stair behind her.[/size]

[animalityopera]

There was a silence when the girl did not turn to look at him. There was no way she hadn't noticed him by now, so she must have been waiting for him to say something - which was tough luck on her part, considering just who she had happened to encounter. Devan was almost never the one to initiate a conversation, and in this instance if the girl continued to ignore him he would probably just move back down the stairs to avoid the trouble of any confrontation at all. But when her eyes did turn to him her face slowly lit up as if she had found an old friend... which made his brow furrow a little. That was not the normal reaction upon sighting him. Not that this school was normal.... Maybe she was off her rocker. His gaze tilted away with a slight roll of his eyes at the idea he may have caught the attention of some mentally challenged student with no regard for social guidelines or personal space. Those had been the only kids at his school who had exercised no caution whatsoever in his presence, and they had proven hard to shake on the occasion they started talking to him.

When the girl spoke up, however, it was clear she did in fact have a concept of 'social conventions BS'. He then watched her make a face and pull at a sock that was falling down her leg. A very small, somewhat cat-like smile of amusement finally crept across his lips with a hesitation that could have easily been mistaken for timidity; obviously she wasn't fond of the dress code either. The smile dropping rather abruptly, Devan cast a quick glance down the stairs as if to check he wasn't being watched, and then took a few more steps up the stairs to approach the girl. He pulled his student ID from his pants pocket and held it forward for her to examine, where she could find his full name, age, and Level. The way Devan participated in social conventions wasn't exactly conventional, but it seemed he was at least making effort to introduce himself.

[francescabianchi]

He’d smiled at her, well, almost. She seemed to catch a glimpse of something when she taken her attention away from the damn wandering sock. That was something. Maybe the boy was just shy. She’d yet to meet a student at the school that was shy, most of them seemed to be extroverted and loud mouthed. She supposed that was what you’d expect in a school full of delinquents. That being said, she certainly imagined that not everyone there was exactly the same, and though she’d not found any shy timid students in the halls, it didn’t mean they didn’t exist. Maybe they were all hiding. She naturally assumed the quiet ones would be the Level Ones. Nervous to be cast out with the rest of the supposedly more dangerous students. The line of thought made sense to her, so again, based on little more than casual observance, she assumed the quiet boy was some poor little Level One, intimidated by the rest of the school.

Her eyebrow quirked upwards as he stepped forward, handing her his ID card. She hesitated a moment, this was a little odd. There was shy, and then there was just weird. She shrugged her shoulders slightly, taking the card he was holding out to her. She wasn’t one to judge others as being weird, she was sure plenty of others would describe her with the same adjective, and maybe there was a perfectly reasonably reason he didn’t speak. People were still sometimes mute, right?.

She glanced down, reading the information before looking up at the guy again, her eyebrow raised further. So she’d been wrong. Her assumption that he was a level One was way off. She smirked slightly at herself, hearing her fathers voice in her head. Assumptions make an ass out of you and me. She handed the card back to him, not daunted by his silent broodiness or high level. She after all was a level three, and she was as dangerous as a house fly. So Devan Ko- Kohaku Miyamoto? Am I even pronouncing that right? Weird combo on the name. Cool though. You could have just said it though. Probably would have been easier.” she said simply, putting her hand back where it had been sitting on the stairs. This Devan didn’t strike her as the shaking hands type. “ I’m Francesca Bianchi. Everyone calls me Frankie though. 16, Level Three.” she recited the information that would have shown on her ID card. She would have pulled it out to show him ,just to prove a point, but couldn’t be bothered to dig through her bag to find it.[/size]

[animalityopera]

He studied her face with an unwavering stare as she looked over his student ID, scrutinizing her features for the thoughts she might be hesitant to voice aloud. When she looked up her eyes were calm but tinged with wariness, a brow raised in what could have been a number of emotions... all of which he guessed were in relation to his Level. Devan paid very close attention to people's faces. Perhaps it was what made his gaze so intense, unnerving even; he would watch someone's face nearly without blinking, tracking every subtlety in their expression for signs of what was going through their heads. He liked to think his attention to such details kept him a step ahead, as it sometimes allowed him to discern deceit or a potential threat in advance.

He took his ID card to slip it back into his pocket, seeming to disregard her comment on his peculiar method of introduction. When the girl offered her name in exchange, it was his turn to arch a brow, his Mona Lisa smile returning with a slight tilt of his head. And she thought his name was difficult? He wondered what ethnicity she was... Italian, maybe. She looked Caucasian enough, though she did have the richly dark hair and eyes, and a faintly olive skin tone that looked like it had tanning potential. Yes, probably Italian. He then wondered what made her a Level Three... She didn't much look it. But what kind of crimes qualified someone for Level Three, anyway? He tried to think back on it, but after a minute he decided recovering the memory was too much effort.

Devan's gaze wandered back to the moth on the ceiling, the insect still periodically beating itself against the light. He then looked to Frankie with an expression that was at once faintly amused and somewhat perplexed. There was a subtle mocking in his dark eyes as he seemed to silently acknowledge the girl had been entertaining herself watching a suicidal moth. Moving past her up the stairs, he leaned over the railing to reach rather precariously toward the moth - but even at 5'9", his long arms couldn't quite reach the bug while it kept so near to the light. He retracted from the railing, leaning back on his heels absently and casting a faint pout. Devan didn't usually bother with killing insects, they were just too easy, their death offered no satisfaction. But here without neighborhood pets or strays, not to mention no weapons, the youth had no outlet for his dark hobby. The most hope he had had was when he once encountered a cat, but it had gotten away. He was forced to make due with whatever school pests were unfortunate enough to attract his attention.

[francescabianchi]

He still wasn’t talking. Frankie was a little unnerved by his direct gaze, his dark eyes seemed to be taking in everything. She felt like she was being unwaveringly scrutinized, and that certainly had the ability to set anyone on edge. But then that ghost of a smile was back on his face. Briefly, but undeniably, and Frankie relaxed. This boy was, well, intense, to say the least. But maybe that was just because he was quiet. Silence certainly added to someone’s mystique. He didn’t seem unfriendly per say, just odd.

Frankie let out the smallest of laughs at the look he gave her as he looked up at the moth on the ceiling. She’d been caught. She was bored as hell, so bored that watching insects seemed like a viable way to pass the time. She shrugged her shoulders, prepared to take up most of the conversational load. “[mediumpurple] Yeah, I know, it’s just a bug, but there is a severe lack of entertainment in this joint….[/color]” she trailed off, as he walked past her on the stairs towards the railing, turning slightly to watch him.

She hovered somewhere between amused and worried as he stretched long limbs out and tried to reach the moth. He seemed to be grasping too far, and there was a tense moment where Frankie was sure the odd boy was going to loose his balance and stumble over the railing. But it passed and he was back firmly on the ground, with, unless she was mistaken, a small pout on his lips. She let out another small laugh at the expression. She wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it, but from someone who’d been so intense before, the child like pout seemed especially out of place. Her lips twitched into a smile “Not quite long enough, huh? I think it would probably be just as boring when it’s caught as when it’s fluttering around though.” Her head inclined to the side. “ You aren’t much of a talker, are ya Devan?”[/font][/size]

[animalityopera]

He looked at Frankie when modest bells of laughter chimed from her, his eyes skimming up and down her face as if searching for the cause of her amusement there. Her laughing was tentative, wary almost, like she was scared if she laughed too loudly or too much she might lose her voice. That was how Zeke used to laugh a lot. Expression suddenly drained from Devan's face in wake of its usual intensity, and he was left staring at Frankie with an increasingly dark gaze. But when the girl spoke up again, the chilling look melted away and his eyes dropped to his shoes. He smiled softly as if at some inside joke that had occurred to him. The girl seemed oblivious to the notion he had not just intended to catch the insect but to kill it - but regardless, she was right. Killing the moth would have been little more entertaining than watching it kill itself. Which lent him the idea, perhaps instead of outright killing bugs he found he could try torturing them to make the most out of his victims... But did insects even feel pain? Maybe he would have to learn something from this school after all.

When he looked back up she was tilting her head at him, casting a curious and vaguely amused expression. He offered another subtle smile and shook his head in answer to her question. Devan was frequently surprised by how much people could get out of his silence, especially when most of the changes in his facial expression were only slight. Despite Frankie's claim it would have been easiest to introduce himself verbally, as would be many a person's initial thought, it seemed people vastly underestimated the expressive power of body language - not to mention the subtleties of facial expression that Devan was so tuned in to.

Having momentarily spaced out, his eyes lifted to start wandering the stairway and peering toward what he could see of the second floor. The issue at hand - boredom - remained, but as he mulled over all that he had explored so far of the school nothing came to mind that might serve to entertain them. Or him, at least; all that really entertained Devan was killing, and perhaps scaring people if he was in the mood. He glanced to Frankie with an empty look that suggested he was open to ideas. He was not opposed to resuming toddling around on his own, but if he had found a tolerable companion to skip class with, he might as well spend the remainder of the hour with her.

[francescabianchi]

Frankie's smile faltered at the look that briefly crossed the boy's face before he looked down. She wasn't sure what it was, but it definitely creeped her out a bit. She watched as he looked down to his feet, apparently hiding a smile. Frankie wasn't really certain on what to make of this odd quiet boy. Her first instinct just pegged him as a bit of a weirdo, it was the subsequent instincts telling her something was off with him. Her nose crinkled as she considered it, logically, there was a good chance that he wasn't as harmless as she assumed. He was at a school for delinquents after all. She shook off that idea, if she started thinking like that, she's start cutting people from the potential friends roster too quickly and end up with none. Where was the good in that?

Frankie was, despite her rather broad horizons, relatively naïve when it came to people. She was too quick to make friends, to slow to judge, and as a result, had been known to make some monumental mistakes in the past about people's motivations and character. Be that as it may, she would often rather make those mistakes again than miss out on a chance. She cast her wide dark eyes over back over Devan, giving him a more through once over. He was considerably taller than her, true. But he was lanky and thin. She was certain that need be, she could over power him enough for a quick kick in the nuts and bolt away from him. Should she be in making another dumb mistake, she was more than certain she could get out of it. Along with naivete, Frankie was also known to be blessed with an overwhelming self confidence in her abilities, no matter how unfounded those may be.

He looked up the stairs and appeared to be contemplating leaving. She wasn't too bothered by the idea. He wasn't exactly contributing much to the interaction, other than half hidden smiles and occasionally dark looks. She couldn't deny that talking at someone was still better than sitting around alone though. He glanced back at her, and seemed to be waiting for some kind of suggestion. She settled back on the stairs, resuming her previous position of staring at the ceiling. “ Yeah, unfortunately I've got nothing more interesting than this planned. she heaved a small sigh “Unless you have some brilliant idea to kill time.” she said turning her head slightly on the stairs to look back to him, her eyes a little hopeful. He may not speak, but that didn't mean his brain wasn't stiring about with half decent ideas to pass the time.[/size]

[animalityopera]

Devan's blank face fell into mild disappointment at her answer to his expectant stare, shoulders visibly drooping a little. But his eyes lit up when Frankie finished her statement. Distinct from his previous subtle smiles, a cheshire grin then possessed his features, enough that he hunched forward with an arm cast over his ribs as if laughing - though still, no sound escaped him, only silent breaths reminiscent of laughter. Now the wild-haired youth definitely looked a little more unhinged, laughing silently at a joke Frankie was not aware she made. Killing time! What a delightful notion: that he, in fact, was killing something every single second of his life. But his smile steadily faded, his face growing troubled as the immediate humor of Frankie's comment died down and Devan was left recognizing that killing time did nothing to satisfy nor entertain him. He combed his fingers through his mess of hair to rub his head, giving in to a quiet sigh.

Again dwelling on their limited options of what to do, Devan absently looked to the moth at the ceiling to find it was losing its vigor. The insect had been hurling itself unrelentingly into the light the past few minutes, and after another sixty seconds or so fell from the ceiling to the floor below. Devan moved to the railing again to peer down at the bug's drop, and managed to spot its impact on one of the stairs below. Unable to contain himself, he scurried down the steps like a child on Christmas morning. Upon locating where the moth had fallen he crouched to examine it. And, sighting a twitch of its antennae, he promptly stood and crushed the insect under his shoe. He removed his foot to study the mark left over from the moth's powdered wings, and then grabbed his ankle to pry his foot up so he could look for its corpse on the bottom of his sneaker. He smiled briefly, and without wiping the body from his shoe, put his foot back down and climbed back up the stairs to rejoin Frankie. He sighed again, lips shrinking into another small pout. If he had nothing but bugs to kill here, it was going to be a long two years. An eerily hollow look came into his eyes as he turned to gaze at Frankie, glancing over her slim frame for a moment, but it vanished as abruptly as it had appeared. He was completely unarmed. There was always strangulation, but - especially in regards to a human being - such hands-on, close-range work was dangerous, and he couldn't forget that despite her friendly demeanor, Frankie was a Level Three and he was not sure what exactly had earned her the rank. The complications he considered and the caution he exercised had always managed to stop Devan from killing people... Always, except that once that got him here, at least.

[francescabianchi]

Frankie watched him as he doubled over with laughter. Well, she thought it was laughter at least. He wasn't making a sound so it was hard to tell. Her eyebrows raised, did he just never make any sounds at all? Not even laughter? For the life of her, she couldn't fathom what she said that caused him to break out into silent chuckles, though it was apparent something she'd said amused him. It was either that, or he was actually a complete nut job. The latter seemed more and more likely with every passing moment. She was about to ask him what the heck was so funny when his shaking stopped and a troubled sounding sigh passed through his lips. Her head inclined to the side, and she found herself wondering what was going on in that odd head of his under all that hair.

He looked back up to the ceiling, and Frankie found herself following his gaze, back up to the circling moth. She let out a small sigh of her own. It seemed she was doomed to have to watch the damn bug, since her company didn't seem to want to actually be companionable. The moth started loosing height, trailing slowly downwards. Oh, looks like her afternoon activities had reached their climax, the saga of the moth was almost over. She furrowed her brow as Devan was suddenly darting over to the railing, peering over to watch the moth fall. He must be way more hard up for entertainment than she was if he was that eager to watch.

Just as suddenly, he was rushing down the stairs, looking more animated than he had since he'd turned up. Curious, Frankie got to her feet and walked over to the railing, peering over herself to see what the strange boy was up to. She watched as he crouched over, looking at the fallen moth. Oh yes, he was definitely worse off than she was. There was absolutely no amount of ennui that would make a but that interesting to her. She turned to walk back to her previous spot lounging on the steps. She'd only taken a step when there was an echoing stomping noise and she went back to the rail. Devan was intently staring at the sole of his shoe, at what she assumed was what was left of the misguided moth. She scrunched her nose, well that was gross. Why someone would inspect a dead bug was beyond her.

She went back to her spot and sat back down, leaning forwards and resting her elbows on her knees. A few moments later Devan was back. He stopped, and stared at her. She was already getting a little used to that strange unblinking look. Her body tensed when something flashed in his dark eyes. Consciously she had no idea why he put her on edge, but some deep instinct was trying to flash her a warning signal. A signal which she promptly ignored. He was undoubtedly a freak, but Frankie's conscious mind refused to see anything wrong with that. The looked lasted only for a milisecond, and almost instantly she'd relaxed, already forgetting it. Her lips twitched into a smirk and she shook her head at him “You're definitely an odd one Devan, I'll give you that.” [/size]

[animalityopera]

He watched the girl's posture take on a sudden discomfort when she met his eyes, but she relaxed as soon as his gaze dropped. He knew his stare was unnerving, though perhaps not quite to what extent. Devan himself didn't like to be scrutinized for too long; he was well accustomed to people staring, but it was different if they were really, intently studying him. He held no particular insecurities about his appearance, it was of little concern to him, but when someone inspected him too closely he felt as if they were figuring him out - an idea he did not care for.

His eyes lifted again when Frankie spoke. Another small smile ghosted over his lips in answer. He slowly stepped up a few more stairs, then taking a seat beside Frankie, albeit about a foot away. Devan sat with his elbows resting on his knees and stared down at his shoes thoughtfully for a couple minutes. Or at least, what looked like thoughtfully - who knew what went on inside Devan Miyamoto's head, or how often. People who did not spend a lot of time talking were supposed to spend a lot of time thinking instead, but it was difficult to tell just how much Devan thought about anything he did. After the short silence, the youth brought a packet of mint-flavored gum out of his pocket, then pulling out a stick and offering it to Frankie before taking one for himself and returning the pack to his pocket. For the lack of talking he did, Devan probably made up the jaw exercise with all the gum he chewed. It wasn't that he was conscious about his breath, he just liked having something to chew on - though he had never gotten into the habit of gnawing on his nails, pencils, or other common oral fixations. He did have a fondness for chewy foods, however, in particular gummies of any form. He was known to turn as docile as a dog for gummies, though no one at Blackwood had yet discovered this.

[francescabianchi]

Frankie smiled a little when he chose to sit down. She still maintained, weird or not, having someone else around was still better than sitting on her ass alone. That being said, she wasn’t sure how long she could carry on a one way conversation. Frankie liked to talk, but she needed something to work with. She shifted her eyes to the boy, watching him as he pulled something from his pocket. “ Oh, thanks.” she said amiably when he held out a piece of gum to her. She took it, popping it into her mouth and chewing contemplatively as she folded the wrapper with her fingers.

They sat in silence for a few moments, only the sound of chewing echoing in the empty stairwell. Frankie stifled a sigh. This wouldn’t do. She was bored before, but just sitting here quietly was awkward. And she hated awkward. She turned slightly to face Devan, who’s face was void of any hint of what he was thinking. Well she would just have to find out. Make a it a project to keep her occupied until the period ended. She would get the quiet boy to open up. Even just a little, even it it was one god damn word. “ So Devan, what’s with the silent thing? Can you actually not speak? Or do you just prefer not too? ” she asked curiously. “At first I thought maybe you were just super shy, but I’m not so sure about that anymore. So come on, what’s the deal man?”[/size]

[animalityopera]

Devan, on the other hand, had no such sense of awkwardness. He sat completely oblivious to Frankie's discomfort and appeared to have no other thought in the world but the little it took to chew his gum. As one might imagine of a boy who never spoke, Devan was not in the least irked by silence. After a few minutes of such silence, Frankie seemed driven to keep up conversation despite his mute responses. He glanced at her briefly and offered another small smile, though this one was not so sure of itself, just the corner of his lip twitching upward for a more distinctly timid smile. He gave a slow, solitary nod downward at her second guess as to the reasoning behind his silence. Then his smile broadened in amusement at her final question. 'Man' sounded funny coming from her so casually; it was not a term he might have anticipated from a girl like her, but then - particularly when everyone here had to wear uniforms - what kind of girl was Francesca Bianchi, anyway?

Truth be told, Devan was not entirely sure why he took such lengths not to speak. Or if he was, he never much consciously acknowledged it. It made for great debate not only amongst classmates but amongst his therapists. Some thought it was just a stunt he pulled to seem scarier, others suggested it was some kind of self-esteem issue perhaps arisen from his father's abuse. Still others carried the idea maybe Devan was just eccentric that way, as he was in many other regards.