Thread: Warm Welcomes to the Antichrist

Miss Andrews fumed. Clearly we're going to have to re-educate you about the meaning of the word, 'modest'. she muttered under her breath. A student near the front chortled. Allan couldn't see Hailee but he heard every word between the two behind him as he retrieved his book. He flipped it open about halfway. Miss Andrews spoke up again. I'd like us to revisit Psalms 117 through 119 today. There was a sigh or two from a few students. Allan was one of them, flipping to the right page. He rested his chin on his hand and gazed lifelessly towards the paper. The class passed slowly as verses were recounted by Miss Andrews as well as a few volunteers from around the class. Eventually, Allan managed to slip a piece of paper under the bible, onto which he could write. It gets worse before it gets better. Find some reliable alibis or they'll start blaming you for things you didn't do. he wrote. He waited for a few moments, forced and 'hid' a yawn, leaned back to stretch and dropped the tiny folded paper onto the corner of Hailee's desk. He sat up, readjusted his shoulders and back, and subtly removed his music player from his bag onto his lap. He uncoiled his headphones, dropped the player down the front of his shirt and slipped a headphone into his left hear. Then the bell rang. Quickly, he slid his bible into his bag and promptly left. He flicked the 'hold' switch, pressed play and was soon immersed in a world more intelligent than his. He hurried out the door into the hall, and walked briskly towards the gym. His class was chemistry, and the sciences classrooms were in the wider east wing of the school, next to the gym. He didn't want any trouble, he just wanted to be done with the day. Allan turned a corner and nearly ran into another student. Allan was not particularly tall, maybe about 5'10, but Greg was 6'3 and built like a statue. Jagged, abrupt and cold. Hey fag. snickered Greg, Whatcha listening to, champ Nigger music? Allan struggled to keep his temper. Greg Stein was the school favourite. Quarterback, rich kid narcissistic and violent. His father was an executive of a state-wide gas station chain and pro-life activist. Allan cringed. He was surprised pro-choice activists hadn't yet taken advantage of Bob Stein's biggest mistake. Yep. conceded Allan. The last thing he wanted right now was trouble from alpha-douchebag. Allan dodged left. Greg did the same. Right, so did Greg. Looks like you're gonna be late, prig, and I hear this isn't your first offense. Hope you don't get DT. The bell rang. Strike three, Allan was now expected on Saturday. Greg laughed, shoved Allan into the lockers nearby and walked into the gym change rooms. Allan calmly walked to the deserted east-wing bathrooms. If he was going to be late, he was going to be late. He sighed and slid his backpack up against the wall, turned on the cold water in the furthest sink and splashed his face. There were a million thoughts going through his head right now, most of them various things he'd like to do to Greg, were they legal. Not the least of which included murder. Allan splashed his face in an attempt to cleanse the thought. He wasn't Greg's only victim. People had tried to turn the tables on Greg before, but by some convenient agent, every case brought against Greg was either thrown out due to 'compromised evidence' or some other spectacular circumstance by which the plaintiff was suspended or expelled. Water splashed against his face again and suddenly his thoughts were flooded with those about the new girl. She would probably have a difficult time at this school, he thought, though he didn't know what she had done previous to deserve being sent here. Firstly, she was the most 'punk' the school had ever seen in its supposed history of acceptance, secondly he speculated with a slight flush she was really goddamn cute. He smirked. He opened the door to the classroom and, as usual, was halted by the prof, Late again, Allan? Your marks notwithstanding, I'm afraid I have to penalize you for being late. Allan sighed and turned to his prof, I'm sorry, Dr. Nolan, I got out of class late and had to use the bathroom. Dr. Nolan was probably the best in the school. A very chill prof with much less care for 'the good word' than most of the other faculty. He was usually quite nice to students, but was obligated to follow the same guidelines of faculty behaviour as the rest. Allan that was your excuse on Friday. I'm sorry, but I have to write you up. Please take a seat. Allan furrowed his brow and sat down in the second row, retrieving his textbook.