The Kids at the Back of the Classroom

[D/N]

<private between myself and LeakyFaucet>

(Andrea Raymer continued [years later] from The Bright Side of Life)

Andrea Raymer was starting her eleventh year of public schooling. Yeesh, didn't THAT sound depressing? Eleven years, and god only knew how many more there were to go. And she was having weird and possibly psychic feelings that her eleventh year was going to be the worst one yet. The third grade had been pretty damn bad, full of youthful bullshit and ennui, with the adding and subtracting and the eating of paste. But this one was looking like it might be up there. She was taking some of the AP courses since she was a super-genius and all that, so she might have to start actually WORKING to get some decent grades. Not that she really thought she needed them or anything, seriously who gives a shit about your high school biology mark ten years later? "Well Ms. Raymer, our studies have shown that you only got a B- in your third-year class! You suck and you're fired!" Yeah, no one, that was who. OK, maybe some people, but it wasn't like she'd ever in a million freaking years work for some corporate loser company so the point was moot. MOOT.

But anyway, here she was at boring ol' English class. Andrea had arrived early for once in her life because it was absolutely paramount that she score the desk back in the last row by the window, where she could be all mysterious and delinquent-y, and look out the window and write down crap in her journal instead of having to pay attention to an entire class of talking. How in the hell could anyone get through an whole damn class of that stuff without going nuts? It boggled the mind. Plus, it kept the teacher from inevitably looking upon her wardrobe and ass-kicking style with disapproval.

Sadly, and as if backing up her feelings that this year was going to suck, it looked like some kid was already sitting there. Hell damn blast. Aaaaarggh. He was staring out the window himself and looking pensive, like he'd just stepped out of a Gus Van Sant movie or something. Andrea thought she'd seen him outside the school amongst some fellow lower denizens of the student body, but damned if she could think up the name.

Andrea drummed her fingers on the next closest desk as she tried to figure out what to do now. Well, she couldn't let him get away with this. She'd just use her feminine wiles. After all, no guy could say no to a pretty, pierced face with dyed red hair.

She stepped forward and cleared her throat to get his attention. "Uh, hey dude. Uh, you're sorta in my seat, sorry. I need the end seat for my terrible medical issues, if I don't get to look out the window at least five times a class I may die of boredom, and that'd be very tragic."

[TheLeakyFaucet†]

((Chad Klitou continued three years later from What Happened On the Highway))

An excerpt from the English notebook of Chad Klitou:

Chad Klitou
Period 7
English

Of Scampering Feet: Frightened Children
Screenplay For an Independent Film Directed By Chad Michael Klitou

[EXT. ST.PAUL, MINNESOTA –The street is busy with businessman clad in ties and carrying suitcases, all of them walking aimlessly with no real sense of direction. Some of them are lurching animalistically whilst the sky above them is apocalyptic orange. The camera catches an establishing aerial shot of the whole street. A soothing Bob Marley song of unknown choice at the time of this script begins to play]

[PAN DOWN]

[Camera parts through the crowd to reveal a frightened boy standing in the middle of the businessman hurrying off in different directions. His face is sullen with sweat and tears are in the brim of his eyes. He opens his mouth and starts screaming and-

____________________________________________________________________

"Uh, hey dude?"

When he heard the girl's voice, Chad Klitou abruptly stopped writing his screenplay. He'd just been at the verge of looking out the window, considering what to write next, when the voice took him back to reality and nearly made him jump out of his skin. Christ man, why are you always so jumpy?

There was an easy answer. Part of the reason for him being so uppity was that he was shaking off the effects of coming to school after smoking the last of his weed again, but the other part of it was much more prominent in the bigger picture. The back of the classroom was a sanctuary, no doubt. Even from the dawn of time, it was a place that belonged to weird kids, ugly kids, bad kids, different kids, and just about every other misfit that high school had to offer. Chad found a sense of kinship when he was in the back of the room – especially in English class where the teacher sort of failed to notice him most of the time – and he usually spent a good amount of class glossing through ideas for short films.

In the back of the class, nobody noticed him, and in all honesty, he liked it that way. Being in the back of the class was almost like being on your own, private little island. And if it chills you out, it chills you out....

And that was why he couldn't help but feel a little startled when he heard the voice of one Andrea Raymer sail him back to shore in one clawing stroke:

"Uh, you're sorta in my seat, sorry. I need the end seat for my terrible medical issues, if I don't get to look out the window at least five times a class I may die of boredom, and that'd be very tragic."

Chad blinked and looked down at his screenplay. Now that he looked back at it, it really didn't make much sense at all. If he didn't even understand it, how was anyone else supposed to? You can't just throw a bunch of random stuff on a screen and tell people that there's actually a deep meaning behind it. Glancing up, he couldn't help but feel a little startled at the sudden appearance of Andrea Raymer – a girl who occupied the more seedier areas of Bayview Secondary School and wasn't far away from being in the same boat as him. He didn't know her that well, but if anything, he was able to put a name to her face. And that's something, isn't it?

"Oh sorry", Chad muttered. He gathered his papers together. "Um yeah, well, I...um....yeah, I'll just get out of here then...".

But it didn't happen that way. Scurrying to get out of his seat, Chad spilled his binder over the table. The clips unhinged and papers went spilling everywhere, fluttering down to the waxed floor lit up dimly by the classroom's overhead lights. Feeling his heart skip a beat, Chad quickly bent down out of his seat and piled the loose-leaf papers together in a haphazard mess.

"Shit", Chad muttered under his breathe. He looked up at Andrea, only vaguely aware that she was still there. He spoke up. "Um, sorry about being in your seat. Just let me get my things together and I'm out of here..."

[D/N]

The guy sitting at the window had obviously been focusing on his writing and was thus unware of her presence, but even given the element of surprise, Andrea hadn't expected him to be THAT on the edge. Dude must a fucking anxiety attack waiting to happen. Either that or he was on the comedown. Given what she remembered of him (was it Chad? Something like that), and the response he was stammering out, she figured it might be a little bit of both.

Nor had she really expected him to just up and hand the chair over. Wow. Just like that? Andrea arched an eyebrow as the seat-warmer turned back and started gathering his stuff up. Guy was super-generous. Or maybe he was just like, really weak-willed. Or, of course, maybe he just didn't give a shit about where he was sitting and was completely disinterested in her.

"Whoa, thank you, thank you..." Andrea started to respond, but she wasn't really sure he was listening. Yikes, he was getting his stuff together fast. "You are great, I totally appreciate it if you want to--"

And then he spilled all his papers off the edge of the desk.

Andrea couldn't help but laugh, even if the other students filing in were starting to stare. At least the teacher wasn't in yet. Andrea seriously didn't want to deal with him any more than she had to, and starting things out by dumping stuff all over the floor would put his eye on her right off the bat. Then he'd actually, like, watch her and expect her to do things. That would be a nightmare in the making.

Meanwhile, the guy she thought was Chad was bending down, trying to grab all the papers and stuff that had fallen.

"Um, sorry about being in your seat. Just let me get my things together and I'm out of here..."

Yeah, she thought he was definitely more nervous than disinterested. Was she THAT awesome and/or hot that her just talking to him was tantamount to his meeting some celebrity or something? OK, even Andrea's inflated self-image doesn't go that far, but it was fun to imagine for a second.

She'd at least try to show him that she meant no harm. "Hey, calm down man, I'm not gonna bite or anything. Here, let me grab some of those, you're like, even more disorganized than I am and I assure you that I am the QUEEN of disorganization. I'd uh, offer you something for that anxiety but it's not really my stock in trade." The last sentence kind of spilled out of her mouth as things are wont to do with her but eh, given that she was by now pretty sure he was a huge pothead or something, she could get away with a quip like that.

Sweeping up a handful of papers that had fallen down by her feet, Andrea straightened up and gave them the once-over while she tried to get them in a stack. Hey, she'd helped him pick it up, she absolutely got to do a bit of snooping. The page at the top had his name on it at least. Yeah, Chad. Idly, she checked out what he'd written.

Some of them are lurching animalistically whilst the sky above them is apocalyptic orange.

"What's this, a uh, movie script or something?" she asked. "Ooooh, apocalyptic orange. That's awesome."

[TheLeakyFaucet†]

At that moment, Chad did two things: he listened to Andrea's words and reminded himself how stupid he was. It was sort of a tendency for him to get kind of uppity in school. It had become sort of a tendency to isolate himself into a bubble in pretty much every class, and when somebody walked in and disturbed him, he couldn't help but feel off guard. It wasn't a healthy lifestyle, and it definitely wasn't one he was satisfied with, but it was still one that he didn't have the enthusiasm to change. His outlook on the world had helped with a lot of things – dating, meeting other people, and having a good high school experience not among them – but he still thought it had at least given him a good insight on how people worked. It helps out with your movies too. And it's not like she's one of the bad ones. Just relax...

"Hey, calm down man, I'm not gonna bite or anything. Here, let me grab some of those, you're like, even more disorganized than I am and I assure you that I am the QUEEN of disorganization. I'd uh, offer you something for that anxiety but it's not really my stock in trade."

He sort of smiled – she definitely wasn't one of the bad ones. Her name was Andrea Raymer, and now that he was really able to analyze things, he could admit that he sort of liked her. She had a cynical kind of view on life that he liked, and by the look of it, this was partly what had helped her gain a reputation among the seedier parts of Bayview High School. She wasn't a bad person by any means – she was just different in a good way; and if there was anything you could appreciate in a person in the twenty-first century, that had to be it.

"Heh yeah", Chad laughed. "No problem really. I just kind of get a little jumpy sometimes. Sorry I kind of freaked out there".

He relaxed himself as she helped pick up a few of his papers. Some of the other kids that had walked in were starting to stare, but since it was the back of the classroom, he chose to ignore them; it was sort of like sitting behind a glass wall and letting people watch you. He sort of half-hoped for a moment that she wouldn't see one of his movie scripts – she'd probably think he was weird – so he couldn't help but let his smile falter a little when she started reading aloud from his papers. After all, that whole film festival thing last year was a disaster. Freedom of expression, my ass. You still get crap for that stupid movie you made....

"What's this, a uh, movie script or something. Ooooh, apocalyptic orange. That's awesome!"

"Yeah, it's a movie script", Chad replied. Then he laughed a little. "I mean, it's not a good one, but it's still a script. I write films and stuff – freaky ones, kind of. I'm kind of glad you didn't skim through that and call me weird. There's kid that would do that, y'know". He paused. "Your name's Andrea, right?" He already knew the answer, but it seemed right to keep their conversation going.