Novus
Three Thousand Club
Jarrod
"I just mov--"
BRRRRRING!!!
The bell rung out, warning the two that it was time to head to their homeroom classes. Jarrod sighed, the prospect of actually making a genuine friend temporarily stalled. "Hey, I'll meet up with you at lunch, okay?" he said, waving as he went and headed off to his own class. Looking down at his schedule, again, he saw that the name of his homeroom instructor was the same as the one on his detention slip. Suppressing a groan, he trudged off to the English Professor's classroom. When he got to the door--labeled GRAYSON; ENGLISH, he entered the doorway and wanted to throw himself out of a second-story window.
There she was, the Queen herself, flanked by the jock-a-zoid he'd flipped off on his way to the office. Jarrod avoided eye contact, but heard the end of her telling some tall guy off for mentioning the Hot-Dog thing again. Apparently, she thought cocktail wieners was something that needed to be explained. Was food some issue that hit her harder than he intended? The fact that the Jockhead joined in on her defense only confirmed what Jarrod thought. He glanced at her once, unwilling to let the earlier situation scare him. He was made of something different and she would learn that or just have to wage a war against him.
"It doesn't take class to eat a sausage, your Lowness." he piped up, taking a seat two desks to her right. The seat between them was glaringly obvious, personifying the tension that built between the two. "You do know that, right?" he added, not giving her the satisfaction of being looked at. He pulled out a copy of his favorite urban fiction novel. He pretended to read, but was really gauging the reaction of his new-found arch rival.
give me a sign @Amora Aurora @Semblance
"I just mov--"
BRRRRRING!!!
The bell rung out, warning the two that it was time to head to their homeroom classes. Jarrod sighed, the prospect of actually making a genuine friend temporarily stalled. "Hey, I'll meet up with you at lunch, okay?" he said, waving as he went and headed off to his own class. Looking down at his schedule, again, he saw that the name of his homeroom instructor was the same as the one on his detention slip. Suppressing a groan, he trudged off to the English Professor's classroom. When he got to the door--labeled GRAYSON; ENGLISH, he entered the doorway and wanted to throw himself out of a second-story window.
There she was, the Queen herself, flanked by the jock-a-zoid he'd flipped off on his way to the office. Jarrod avoided eye contact, but heard the end of her telling some tall guy off for mentioning the Hot-Dog thing again. Apparently, she thought cocktail wieners was something that needed to be explained. Was food some issue that hit her harder than he intended? The fact that the Jockhead joined in on her defense only confirmed what Jarrod thought. He glanced at her once, unwilling to let the earlier situation scare him. He was made of something different and she would learn that or just have to wage a war against him.
"It doesn't take class to eat a sausage, your Lowness." he piped up, taking a seat two desks to her right. The seat between them was glaringly obvious, personifying the tension that built between the two. "You do know that, right?" he added, not giving her the satisfaction of being looked at. He pulled out a copy of his favorite urban fiction novel. He pretended to read, but was really gauging the reaction of his new-found arch rival.
give me a sign @Amora Aurora @Semblance
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