Jamaican Blues

[VegetableRights†]

S.G. sat down on the turf on the school's campus. He hadn't had many free periods in the past, but being a senior comes with privileges. Including a lot of empty periods. The day was nice, if a little hot. Not many people were outside. It always seemed that the free periods S.G. got, no one else had. He had almost run out of things to do during free periods, what with no one to talk to or hang out with, and, frankly, he had gotten sick of himself. If he had brought his bass today, he could practice in the music room, but it was missing a string, so that was out. If more people were free, they could do whatever, but it always seemed S.G. was all alone.

"At least it's nice out."

S.G. laid back on the grass, putting on his headphones. Not the earbud-style ones that come with IPods, he found those annoying. Instead, they were the large DJ style headphones, which had better sound quality. He put on some music, and began to zone out. He stared out toward the sky, but being under a tree, his attention was caught by a squirrel. It was eating something, but not a normal thing, like a nut. It looked like a wire. He traced the wire, finding that it led back to his headphones. They had an exceptionally long cord, and a damn squirrel was chewing through it.

"Hey! Squirrel!"

S.G. picked up a rock and hurled it at the squirrel, hitting it square in the head. The squirrel dropped like a lead weight, with the wire still in its mouth. The thing ended up hanging off the branch from the wire, looking like some kind of really disappointingly small pinata. Disappointed the thing didn't let go of the wire, S.G. picked up a small stick and began tapping the squirrel with it. The squirrel seemed stunned, but not dead. S.G. eventually got the stick into the squirrels mouth, and dislodged it from the wire. The squirrel fell to the ground, recovered from its rock-induced stupor, and ran off. S.G then retrieved the wire, examining the damage. Nothing too serious, but the insulation was shredded.

'Well, this day could stand to get better."

[xylophonefairy†]

((Neill Robertson continued from Running Like A Headless Chicken))

Neill strolled past on a rare free lesson, figuring that he'd take advantage of the sunshine. He reckoned it was something about living in Minnesota, sunshine was yearned for. Did people from Texas yearn for snow? Did Texas ever get snow, it was with vague realisation that Neill discovered he didn't know anyone from Texas, or any southern states in particular. Or anywhere warm in fact. It was while he was mulling over these thoughts that he spied S.G., whom he didn't know, though his Carribean colouring immediately caught his attention,. Perhaps he knew if people from sunny places ever wanted snow. Then the boy threw a rock at a squirrel. That surprised him a little, maybe because it seemed unprovoked; he took a couple of steps closer and saw the cable winding through the grass, and the reason for the rock clicked in his brain. Still, it seemed a little bit excessive.

"You're lucky none of the animal rights fanatics saw you just then," Neill said with a grin, sitting down a short way from S.G., close enough that they could hear each other, but not so close as to invade on the stranger's personal space. He knew the boy was in his grade, having seen him around a couple of times before, and had a funny feeling they'd been in a class together in their Freshman year. But that might not have been right, because if they'd been in a class together he'd have learnt his name, and once Neill learnt a name he very rarely forgot it. Perhaps they had just encountered each other once without ever learning names, perhaps that was it. The test would be if the boy knew his. "They'd have been ringing all kinds of helplines, looking for therapy."

[VegetableRights†]

While examining the wire, S.G. heard a voice coming from slightly away from him. He looked up, to see another boy from his class. S.G. didn't really know him, but he knew his name was Neill something. He said something about animal rights activists needing therapy, which made S.G. chuckle a little.

"Yeah, they would probably hit me with signs and get a petition started. Then I would be in therapy for "violent tendencies and cruelty to animals" and all that."

S.G. stood up and took a shot in the dark with who he thought he was.

"You're Neill, right? I think we've had class together."

[xylophonefairy†]

"I'm practically famous!" Neill gushed dramatically, noting with a slight sense of disappointment that the boy spoke with a Minnesotan accent, he would have to leave his snow quest for another day. In the meantime, there was the more pressing issue of the fact that he knew his name, but Neill didn't know his. A vague memory was starting to come back to him, he was pretty sure that he used initials for his name. S... J? Something like that. He cleared his throat in balance to the flamboyant gesture he had made moments before. Neill didn't know why he always did that when he talked to new people, or people he hadn't really spoken to before, act so weirdly.

"And you're... S.J.?" he attempted tentatively, screwing his face up a little in concentration, removing his glasses and cleaning the lens on his untucked shirt, hoping to God that he was at least nearly close. If he was wrong he could always say he was rubbish with names, there was no reason for the boy to know any different.

[VegetableRights†]

"I'm practically famous!"

The sudden burst of energy caught S.G. off guard, causing him to jump backwards a step. Something about this kid made S.G. feel a bit weirded out, but in the good way. The boy seemed to regain his composure, clearing his throat. It was clear he was trying to remember who S.G. was, and, to tell the truth, S.G. didn't really know much about him either. From the classes they had, they never really interacted. Neill seemed almost uncomfortable when he guessed S.G.s name, only coming up short with a J.

"S.G. Not a very common name, eh? Anyway, what are you doing out here? I thought I was the only one with a free period right now."

[xylophonefairy†]

"S.G.!" Neill said, almost in relief, the memory coming back to him now. "I didn't think the J was right..." he added with a grin, hoping that he hadn't weirded the other guy out too much already by his bizarre social skills.

"And yeah, this is a bum free, like, nobody's off. Normally I go do homework in the library like the cool kid that I am, but it was sunny, figured I might as well enjoy it." So he'd kind of worked the topic around to the sun, that was so weirdly British of him, talking about the weather, wasn't that what they did all the time? Though probably not about the sun, Neill limited knowledge of England included the fact that apparently they got a lot of rain, that was what his uncle had said that time he went there on holiday, it rained all the time.

[VegetableRights†]

"Yeah, it's too bad about the scheduling. It makes it impossible to do anything."

S.G. looked up into the sky, then back at the tree where the squirrel had been. The sun was hot, which was kinda weird for Minnesota. But, there was a decent breeze blowing through the campus, blowing S.G.s dreads around. Not many other people in Minnesota are from Jamaica. In fact, it always seemed that S.G.s family was the only one in all of the Minneapolis-St. Paul area. That most likely wasn't true, but it felt like it for S.G.

"It is nice out, though. I just wish I had brought my bass today. This is the only time I can practice during the school day, and I need all the practice I can get."

[xylophonefairy†]

"You play bass?" Neill said appreciatively. He always admired other people who played a musical instrument of any kind because he had no musical talent at all. His singing attempts were so poor he was quite often demoted to playing the triangle in elementary school. Not that this really bothered him, the triangle was far easier to play than the singing parts were to sing, for him at least, even nursery rhymes were hard to keep in tune.

"That's pretty cool," he continued, just in case his meaning wasn't completely clear, he picked a strand of grass and carefully placed it between his two thumbs to make a reed like device. "Only instrument I can play is the grass," he said bringing his thumbs and the strand of grass up to his lips and blew through. A low kazoo-like noise eminated from his hands, which he sustained, before throwing the strand of grass back to the turf and grinning. Mostly he was glad it had worked.

[VegetableRights†]

'Yeah, I play. Not very well, but I play."

"Only instrument I can play is the grass,"

S.G. watched Neill raise the grass to his mouth and blow, making a low buzzing noise. S.G. had seen a couple other people try that, but they never got it to work right. Neill threw the grass away, done before he could start a song.

"Impressive. You can probably play that better then I play bass."

Before he could say anything else, he was cut off by the ringing of the bell, signaling the transition of classes. His free period over, S.G. had to run to his next class. He ran over to his bag and grabbed it.

"Gotta go. Se ya later, Neill."

(S.G. Powell continued elsewhere)

[xylophonefairy†]

Neill raised a hand in farewell as S.G. abruptly left when the bell sounded. He sat on the grass for a short while, twirling a strand of grass around his finger, feeling quite pleased with himself for impressing the boy he barely knew (not even enough to know his name). Eventually he picked up his bag and began to lumber towards the school building. Once he had gone a few steps he stopped and looked back to where they had been sitting mere moments before.

"Oh!" he said out loud to himself. "That was the teacher that kept calling him Sebastian!" Satisfied with his personal revelation, Neill figured he had better get to his AP European History class. There was nothing like the kings of England to take your mind off a nice day.

((Neill Robertson continued in 9 Out Of 10 Students Say Statistics Sucks))