Inasmuch as Mackenzie enjoyed Joanne's praise, something about her assertion felt off to her. There was nothing really good or charitable about buying chocolates for people. She wasn't saving lives or improving people's well-being. She was just treating her friends to candy. She appreciated what she was trying to do, trying to make her feel like she was some kind of nice person, but in the end, it was all selfishness. She bought gifts for people she liked so that they would like her and shower her with love in return. Nothing more.
And the way Joanne was acting, apparently it was working.
Waving to Connor as he braved the food lines, Kenzie twirled a few loose strands of hair between her fingers and considered Joanne's argument about Valentine's Day. Finishing off the rest of her chicken sandwich, she rested her hands on the table and exclaimed, "I disagree. The traditional things, yes; the flowers, the cards, the chocolates...all of those spike up in sales because of the holidays. No argument there. But are you truly offering a card, or does it mean something more?"
She leaned forward, fixing Joanne with an intense look. "Valentine's is about more than a card. It's the thoughts and feelings and emotions that the card represents. You're telling someone that out of everyone you know, you've singled them out as a target of affection and endearment. If you're just going to buy a card because it's what you're 'supposed to do', if there's no real love behind it, you'd be better off not buying a card at all."
Mackenzie liked to feign enthusiasm about a number of things, but when it came to relationships, she was dead serious. Love was a topic more dear to her than life itself, she liked to say, and even if she bought dozens of cards, she meant all the words that she put into every one of them. Maybe that's why it hurt so much when people didn't take them the same way, because Joanne was right. For most people, Valentine's was just an obligation, something you did because people thought you were weird for not doing it. They didn't know what it meant to love and be loved, not the way Mackenzie did. Not the way Mackenzie wanted.
Heavy is the Head That Wears the Crown
Open sesame!
Connor seemed to think the devil wouldn't be in the details, hm? She figured that'd whet the gossip wheel good. The 'tire fire' relationship- not Joanne's original do-not-steal term because she'd heard it by friend of a friend of a who even knew- was predicated on last minute plans and totally unknown cooking skill. Joanne kept up a slightly tight lipped smile in front of Connor's smile and shrug routine. Waved him off, eagerly. She wasn't going to say anything out loud, but, well:
"Quiet night is not how that story ends if Connor doesn't bust his ass."
She wasn't going to say anything out loud while Connor was still at the table, was the right bit more accurate way of putting it. Back talking the dude going out of his way to put bountiful feasts on her dining table? Well. Wasn't like Joanne had ever claimed that she was perfect or anything. No ma'am, she accepted that she was only human.
Joanne mirrored Kenzie's preening, scuffing up her own 'do with one hand so not a hair was acting out of line: discipline those hooligans right there, she did. Joanne listened. The usual way she did where it looked like she wasn't listening but she actually really was, wasn't her fault that looking this fabulous made her look like a tool sometimes. Listen to no haters, mmhm. Listen, instead, to Kenzie. Meet her intense look with a slightly vacant expression. Even as the depths of that rebuttal really struck at her, the cinematic moment of her self-titled Lifetime movie special ('Joanne, The Ass that Couldn't Quit'. Released in select theaters.).
Joanne hadn't imagined it meant this much to Kenzie. She had imagined Kenzie cared, rather, but not that she'd admit it with such conviction. Joanne wanted to respond.
She wasn't sure how she could. She could craft nothing worthy. It was quiet for a long moment.
'I'm sorry', maybe. But no, that wasn't good enough.
"Shit," Joanne whistled lowly. Shallowly, vapidly, like she was supposed to be. Nodding to herself, pretending to pretend to think all while she actually thought, long and hard. Looking a bit down, into the depths of her own lap, musing on things she'd never actually say back. Kenzie had it more right than she realized. Joanne agreed so much it hurt. Yet Kenzie find no ally here today.
Joanne couldn't be that girl.
She pretended to be distracted, to awkwardly segue like the brainless, unawares idiot she supposedly was.
"Connor, hit me up!"
Loudly, because he hadn't even made it back halfway yet. She raised her hand with a forceful beckon, a beacon.
"Quiet night is not how that story ends if Connor doesn't bust his ass."
She wasn't going to say anything out loud while Connor was still at the table, was the right bit more accurate way of putting it. Back talking the dude going out of his way to put bountiful feasts on her dining table? Well. Wasn't like Joanne had ever claimed that she was perfect or anything. No ma'am, she accepted that she was only human.
Joanne mirrored Kenzie's preening, scuffing up her own 'do with one hand so not a hair was acting out of line: discipline those hooligans right there, she did. Joanne listened. The usual way she did where it looked like she wasn't listening but she actually really was, wasn't her fault that looking this fabulous made her look like a tool sometimes. Listen to no haters, mmhm. Listen, instead, to Kenzie. Meet her intense look with a slightly vacant expression. Even as the depths of that rebuttal really struck at her, the cinematic moment of her self-titled Lifetime movie special ('Joanne, The Ass that Couldn't Quit'. Released in select theaters.).
Joanne hadn't imagined it meant this much to Kenzie. She had imagined Kenzie cared, rather, but not that she'd admit it with such conviction. Joanne wanted to respond.
She wasn't sure how she could. She could craft nothing worthy. It was quiet for a long moment.
'I'm sorry', maybe. But no, that wasn't good enough.
"Shit," Joanne whistled lowly. Shallowly, vapidly, like she was supposed to be. Nodding to herself, pretending to pretend to think all while she actually thought, long and hard. Looking a bit down, into the depths of her own lap, musing on things she'd never actually say back. Kenzie had it more right than she realized. Joanne agreed so much it hurt. Yet Kenzie find no ally here today.
Joanne couldn't be that girl.
She pretended to be distracted, to awkwardly segue like the brainless, unawares idiot she supposedly was.
"Connor, hit me up!"
Loudly, because he hadn't even made it back halfway yet. She raised her hand with a forceful beckon, a beacon.
V8 Vibes:
V7 Vibes:
Connor had sauntered over to the line at Tony's Burgers and Fries and naturally found himself waiting near to the back of it. For all of the delicious menu items that the mall-based burger joint offered, they tended to keep things simple: simple enough that there was something for anyone, causing there to often be a line. At this particular juncture though, Connor didn't mind the line, as he'd been itching for a reason to jump up from the table. All this talk about Valentine's Day had pinged something in his mind. While he'd purchased things for Madison as a way to make a perceived wrong up to her, she really did deserve to have something nice done for her.
He'd barely given it any thought aside from the posturing he'd done to the ladies he'd left back at the table. Could he really cook her a meal? That would be... an experience, to say the least. Would she enjoy it, though? It was hard to tell with her sometimes. She could be a little contrary with her moods on occasion, and sometimes he felt like he was barking up the wrong tree entirely with how to make her happy.
He knew this jacket would do the trick, though.
The line finally moving along, Connor found himself in front of a pimply-faced teenager who couldn't have been more than a year or two younger than himself, though he dwarfed the greasy-looking boy by more than a foot. Puberty was a bitch, sometimes.
"One order of rings, please and thank you."
Handing over a five dollar bill with care not to make any eye contact with the burger jockey, Connor accepted the change and moved ahead in the lineup as he watched the employees whip up the fast food. This was writing one more round of cardio at the gym into his schedule, that was for sure. Joanne called out to him from the table, and Connor looked back, smiled at her and held up a hand, gesturing that he was in line. God could only hope that they'd be talking about something different entirely by the time he made his way back.
Love was the pits - to talk about, anyways.
He'd barely given it any thought aside from the posturing he'd done to the ladies he'd left back at the table. Could he really cook her a meal? That would be... an experience, to say the least. Would she enjoy it, though? It was hard to tell with her sometimes. She could be a little contrary with her moods on occasion, and sometimes he felt like he was barking up the wrong tree entirely with how to make her happy.
He knew this jacket would do the trick, though.
The line finally moving along, Connor found himself in front of a pimply-faced teenager who couldn't have been more than a year or two younger than himself, though he dwarfed the greasy-looking boy by more than a foot. Puberty was a bitch, sometimes.
"One order of rings, please and thank you."
Handing over a five dollar bill with care not to make any eye contact with the burger jockey, Connor accepted the change and moved ahead in the lineup as he watched the employees whip up the fast food. This was writing one more round of cardio at the gym into his schedule, that was for sure. Joanne called out to him from the table, and Connor looked back, smiled at her and held up a hand, gesturing that he was in line. God could only hope that they'd be talking about something different entirely by the time he made his way back.
Love was the pits - to talk about, anyways.
Mackenzie tilted her head. Had she actually rendered Joanne speechless? She knew her. If she had a counter-argument, nothing could have stopped her from expressing herself. Kenzie thought she'd have felt some triumph in that, but she just felt bad, especially when Joanne immediately tried to signal Connor over. She'd gone too far, been too intense, and now things were just very, very awkward.
"Well," she added after a while, "best of luck with your onion rings. See you at school tomorrow?" Scooting out of her seat, she dreaded having to pick up these bags again, but she had no real choice in the matter. She'd insisted on driving out to the mall alone without Gloria, so she'd have to just bear the weight for a little while longer.
She didn't feel like stunning Joanne into silence had jeopardized their friendship, but she would have to be careful to be a little less assertive in future conversations...
What was she saying?
The instant such thoughts entered her brain, she felt like slapping her forehead in disgust. All she was doing was presenting the "her" that she wanted people to see, not a "her" of any substance. But once you start a lie, sustaining it means even more lies. She'd created this dramatic, overblown outer facade to draw people in, and the more she did so, the greater the chance that they'd see the rotten, clingy core underneath.
As she walked off, giving a light wave to Connor on the way out, she considered that maybe this was why nobody truly liked her. Or at least, that was her impression. She made people uncomfortable and her choice of outfits received all kinds of incredulous looks. Connor was nice and polite, but he was...well, he was taken. No way around that. They had no future together, and he, nice guy that he was, made no end of reminding her, probably not intentionally. Maybe it would be best, her conniving brain continued, if she just kept her distance from him as well, so he wouldn't be uncomfortable around her.
After all, if he thought that she was trying to put the moves on him, she wouldn't be much of a good friend now, would she?
(Mackenzie Baker continued elsewhere)
"Well," she added after a while, "best of luck with your onion rings. See you at school tomorrow?" Scooting out of her seat, she dreaded having to pick up these bags again, but she had no real choice in the matter. She'd insisted on driving out to the mall alone without Gloria, so she'd have to just bear the weight for a little while longer.
She didn't feel like stunning Joanne into silence had jeopardized their friendship, but she would have to be careful to be a little less assertive in future conversations...
What was she saying?
The instant such thoughts entered her brain, she felt like slapping her forehead in disgust. All she was doing was presenting the "her" that she wanted people to see, not a "her" of any substance. But once you start a lie, sustaining it means even more lies. She'd created this dramatic, overblown outer facade to draw people in, and the more she did so, the greater the chance that they'd see the rotten, clingy core underneath.
As she walked off, giving a light wave to Connor on the way out, she considered that maybe this was why nobody truly liked her. Or at least, that was her impression. She made people uncomfortable and her choice of outfits received all kinds of incredulous looks. Connor was nice and polite, but he was...well, he was taken. No way around that. They had no future together, and he, nice guy that he was, made no end of reminding her, probably not intentionally. Maybe it would be best, her conniving brain continued, if she just kept her distance from him as well, so he wouldn't be uncomfortable around her.
After all, if he thought that she was trying to put the moves on him, she wouldn't be much of a good friend now, would she?
(Mackenzie Baker continued elsewhere)
Connor was in line, she'd confirmed that much at least.
She'd lost Kenzie in the process though.
"Yeah hun. Hit me up." And then, a pause, where normally Joanne and pauses were not squad goals. ".. We'll talk outfits or something!" Joanne said it loud, said it proud. Felt neither of those things, and the exclamation mark in her good-bye turned out to be way off base somehow.
She watched Kenzie go. Wondering, as usual, if she'd done something wrong. Joanne's empty head echoed loud with the crashing waves of silence. Her phone quietly butted in.
Two texts, both from Mom: Sorry I made you sit through my complaining. I won't be home tonight.
Mixed message. Joanne numbly typed a platitude back.
It's okay Ma. I'll have dinner on, fridged up when you're in. Something classic maybe. They did have a couple of ziplocs of tilapia thawing in the fridge.
Joanne contemplated leaving, in a moment of weakness. But fuck it. She was made of sterner stuff than that. Mood or not she was staying right in this seat up until she was the last woman standing. Joanne Coleman stayed put, stayed looking like she was busy on her phone all while nothing was actually happening, on her screen, in her heart.
She'd lost Kenzie in the process though.
"Yeah hun. Hit me up." And then, a pause, where normally Joanne and pauses were not squad goals. ".. We'll talk outfits or something!" Joanne said it loud, said it proud. Felt neither of those things, and the exclamation mark in her good-bye turned out to be way off base somehow.
She watched Kenzie go. Wondering, as usual, if she'd done something wrong. Joanne's empty head echoed loud with the crashing waves of silence. Her phone quietly butted in.
Two texts, both from Mom: Sorry I made you sit through my complaining. I won't be home tonight.
Mixed message. Joanne numbly typed a platitude back.
It's okay Ma. I'll have dinner on, fridged up when you're in. Something classic maybe. They did have a couple of ziplocs of tilapia thawing in the fridge.
Joanne contemplated leaving, in a moment of weakness. But fuck it. She was made of sterner stuff than that. Mood or not she was staying right in this seat up until she was the last woman standing. Joanne Coleman stayed put, stayed looking like she was busy on her phone all while nothing was actually happening, on her screen, in her heart.
V8 Vibes:
V7 Vibes:
The telltale grease from the onion rings slowly turned the paper container a translucent shade of murky brown, and as Connor sauntered back towards the table, tray in hand, he yet again mentally chastised himself for having a lack of self-control where food was concerned. All of the talk about love, and Valentine's Day, and the like had given him an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach, and whether or not that was hunger or just a gnawing feeling of dread, he couldn't be sure.
There was only one real way to be sure, of course.
As he approached the table, he rose an eyebrow in slight surprise - it seemed as though Mackenzie had made a quick exit, as only Joanne sat, engrossed in her phone. That was odd - though his mind corrected him just as quickly, had he seen her leave? He'd been so caught up in his own thoughts that he remained uncertain.
Girls. He'd never understand them.
"Sorry about that, y'all know how the lines go in this place."
Sliding down into the table, he pushed the tray out in front of him, gesturing for Joanne to have her go at the delicious treat in front of them.
"Thanks, by the way, for not jumpin' up and leaving my bags behind."
He grabbed a ring and took a bite, having to steel himself against the scaldingly hot onion within the batter. They were damn fine, though.
"So what's new and exciting in your world, Joanne? Got anythin' newsworthy to report?" Joanne was a pretty well-known party girl, and while Connor wasn't one for endless gossip, it was always a little amusing to hear what was passing for school chatter these days.
There was only one real way to be sure, of course.
As he approached the table, he rose an eyebrow in slight surprise - it seemed as though Mackenzie had made a quick exit, as only Joanne sat, engrossed in her phone. That was odd - though his mind corrected him just as quickly, had he seen her leave? He'd been so caught up in his own thoughts that he remained uncertain.
Girls. He'd never understand them.
"Sorry about that, y'all know how the lines go in this place."
Sliding down into the table, he pushed the tray out in front of him, gesturing for Joanne to have her go at the delicious treat in front of them.
"Thanks, by the way, for not jumpin' up and leaving my bags behind."
He grabbed a ring and took a bite, having to steel himself against the scaldingly hot onion within the batter. They were damn fine, though.
"So what's new and exciting in your world, Joanne? Got anythin' newsworthy to report?" Joanne was a pretty well-known party girl, and while Connor wasn't one for endless gossip, it was always a little amusing to hear what was passing for school chatter these days.
Joanne checked a message from Alton for the third time that day. One of those innocuous and innocent little blobs of iPhone color code that Joanne had already smiled at one time too many as was, but she forced another one. The ghostly impression of the actual meaning Alton's attention had for her, repeated for the audience's sake.
Speaking of.
Joanne let her pity train derail and crash into her unconsciousness. Current focus: onion rings, eight o' clock, clock ticking until it was midnight and Cinderella was shook. Anyone just had to devote a moment to admiring how the frying oil glistened, the perfect sheen of artery-cooking glaze that was worthy of every Insta tag ever invented. Mm! A moment of silence, put some respect on that queenly entry of fast food's most worthy claimer of divine right. Joanne's thick lips became a smile and a slightly theatrical, over-worked nod.
"At least there's something good waiting at the end of these lines. Compare:" dramatic pause, "the lines for cardboard imitation brand cheese in the GHHS caf-ay-teria." Joanne made herself a quick transaction: her half of the money on the tray, radiantly warm rings dangling off each finger, and she wasn't talking any kinda wedding band shit. She briskly chomped once then twice, apparently completely immune to the infrared bombs packed under each onion rings' skin.
"Kinda quiet this month, so far." Joanne had heard a pretty widely circulated rumor about Madison blowing up at Keisha and... who else had been there? Something about a poem that would be published soon? However that had all gone down, Joanne assumed that particular incident was not one Connor was looking for a third-party source on. "Got an invite to a party at Ashley's, and another at... Forrest's? One of the DJ girls has something cooking. Dunno if either interests you but, like. Senior year?" Joanne was very efficiently juggling words, breaths, and bites, all while making grand hand gestures that flew all the way across the table and nearly to the tables neighboring. "You know? I- mm- feel like even if someone's not a party type the last sem of senior year is the time to show up for at least one, you feel me? It's just like, now's the time for that stupid little memory. That final 'oorah for ol' GHHS."
She gestured at Connor, throwing the ball into his court. Grabbing another handful of rings while she was at it. She'd more or less cleaned her claimed half out of the basket already.
Speaking of.
Joanne let her pity train derail and crash into her unconsciousness. Current focus: onion rings, eight o' clock, clock ticking until it was midnight and Cinderella was shook. Anyone just had to devote a moment to admiring how the frying oil glistened, the perfect sheen of artery-cooking glaze that was worthy of every Insta tag ever invented. Mm! A moment of silence, put some respect on that queenly entry of fast food's most worthy claimer of divine right. Joanne's thick lips became a smile and a slightly theatrical, over-worked nod.
"At least there's something good waiting at the end of these lines. Compare:" dramatic pause, "the lines for cardboard imitation brand cheese in the GHHS caf-ay-teria." Joanne made herself a quick transaction: her half of the money on the tray, radiantly warm rings dangling off each finger, and she wasn't talking any kinda wedding band shit. She briskly chomped once then twice, apparently completely immune to the infrared bombs packed under each onion rings' skin.
"Kinda quiet this month, so far." Joanne had heard a pretty widely circulated rumor about Madison blowing up at Keisha and... who else had been there? Something about a poem that would be published soon? However that had all gone down, Joanne assumed that particular incident was not one Connor was looking for a third-party source on. "Got an invite to a party at Ashley's, and another at... Forrest's? One of the DJ girls has something cooking. Dunno if either interests you but, like. Senior year?" Joanne was very efficiently juggling words, breaths, and bites, all while making grand hand gestures that flew all the way across the table and nearly to the tables neighboring. "You know? I- mm- feel like even if someone's not a party type the last sem of senior year is the time to show up for at least one, you feel me? It's just like, now's the time for that stupid little memory. That final 'oorah for ol' GHHS."
She gestured at Connor, throwing the ball into his court. Grabbing another handful of rings while she was at it. She'd more or less cleaned her claimed half out of the basket already.
V8 Vibes:
V7 Vibes:
One last hoorah? Connor was completely on board that train - hell, he was the veritable conductor on that locomotive. While owning a reputation as being a pretty serious guy, especially when it came to football, Connor knew that if life went the way that he expected it to over the next couple of years, there'd be a lot of focus on studies, on training, on making sure that his body adapted to the rigors of a college football schedule... so why not enjoy high school while it wound down?
He took another bite of the onion ring in his hand, finding it had cooled slightly but still left a delicious taste in his mouth. He gave Joanne a slight nod and thought for a moment as he chewed. "That cafeteria food ain't exactly all it's cracked up to be by the administration is it?"
Connor made a point to bring his own lunch most days.
"I reckon I'll probably be at one, or both. You know how parties go at this school... one person hears about it and the whole class ends up there. That's how things go on the team, anyhow. Y'all invite one, you're probably gettin' everyone."
For better or for worse, he knew that to be true. Most social gatherings contained at least a small group of the football team and their significant others, whether that meant a cameo by a Carter or two or an encounter with "Moustache" Jeff Greene... familiar faces were always popping up.
Connor smiled. He enjoyed parties, though he had a bit of a habit of making an appearance and leaving before things got too rowdy. "You're right. If there's a time to really live it up in high school, this might be it." He popped another onion ring in his mouth, taking a slight glance at the money Joanne rested on the table. It was a nice gesture, but unnecessary. He'd already decided that he'd forget it when he went to leave.
"Much obliged." He licked his lips to clear some leftover grease. "Speaking of living it up, y'all heard anything about the senior trip yet? I know it's still in the planning stages, but..." He trailed off.
Senior trips were all-too-rare in the climate of today's world: the periodic terrorist attacks on American high school students proved them to be far too much of a risk, but something like that wasn't really anything Connor put a whole lot of stock in. There was too much money invested in both the school and its students, security on any such trip would be at a premium.
It wouldn't benefit the conductor to worry, that was for certain.
He took another bite of the onion ring in his hand, finding it had cooled slightly but still left a delicious taste in his mouth. He gave Joanne a slight nod and thought for a moment as he chewed. "That cafeteria food ain't exactly all it's cracked up to be by the administration is it?"
Connor made a point to bring his own lunch most days.
"I reckon I'll probably be at one, or both. You know how parties go at this school... one person hears about it and the whole class ends up there. That's how things go on the team, anyhow. Y'all invite one, you're probably gettin' everyone."
For better or for worse, he knew that to be true. Most social gatherings contained at least a small group of the football team and their significant others, whether that meant a cameo by a Carter or two or an encounter with "Moustache" Jeff Greene... familiar faces were always popping up.
Connor smiled. He enjoyed parties, though he had a bit of a habit of making an appearance and leaving before things got too rowdy. "You're right. If there's a time to really live it up in high school, this might be it." He popped another onion ring in his mouth, taking a slight glance at the money Joanne rested on the table. It was a nice gesture, but unnecessary. He'd already decided that he'd forget it when he went to leave.
"Much obliged." He licked his lips to clear some leftover grease. "Speaking of living it up, y'all heard anything about the senior trip yet? I know it's still in the planning stages, but..." He trailed off.
Senior trips were all-too-rare in the climate of today's world: the periodic terrorist attacks on American high school students proved them to be far too much of a risk, but something like that wasn't really anything Connor put a whole lot of stock in. There was too much money invested in both the school and its students, security on any such trip would be at a premium.
It wouldn't benefit the conductor to worry, that was for certain.
Connor hadn't taken the money yet, Joanne had just the most Notre Dame of hunches that it wasn't going to be collected by the time she got up to leave. Condescending? Chivalry ? is ? dead ? ? But well. Appreciated, all the same. Joanne gulped some, the cooldown stretch for her jaw and throat after the workout. Onion ring reps the new Tumblr fad, for sure? She started lining up her phone to snap a shot of the half-emptied tray for her Insta.
"Seems like a bit of a trade-off! You for Wyatt isn't exactly the package deal I would order." A brash chuckle, "er, no offense intended hun. You know I just don't get along so well with, well. His type. No knocks against the team though, I'm rooting for you guys... game's next week, yeah?"
Lot to keep track of when channeling their inner school spirit. Joanne's schedule was packed to the brim enough that she could all the easier get stressed out when she inevitably let something slip.
"Like, yeah. There's been anxiety on my feeds about more schools planning senior trips this year." The sudden topic swerve did have Joanne articulating a bit quieter than she usually spoke. A thoughtful, mild tone as she stared into the unknown distance for a second before remembering Connor had eyes. "I don't blame them. Kingman was only... three years ago? It almost feels like it's too soon, and besides, senior trips kinda suck? Like we couldn't have arranged better and poured more money into it on our own?"
"I dunno. I'll probably end up going anyways, right? I just don't personally get a good feeling about this one, but that's just me."
She was probably just being paranoid, as usual, self-defeating. As usual.
"Seems like a bit of a trade-off! You for Wyatt isn't exactly the package deal I would order." A brash chuckle, "er, no offense intended hun. You know I just don't get along so well with, well. His type. No knocks against the team though, I'm rooting for you guys... game's next week, yeah?"
Lot to keep track of when channeling their inner school spirit. Joanne's schedule was packed to the brim enough that she could all the easier get stressed out when she inevitably let something slip.
"Like, yeah. There's been anxiety on my feeds about more schools planning senior trips this year." The sudden topic swerve did have Joanne articulating a bit quieter than she usually spoke. A thoughtful, mild tone as she stared into the unknown distance for a second before remembering Connor had eyes. "I don't blame them. Kingman was only... three years ago? It almost feels like it's too soon, and besides, senior trips kinda suck? Like we couldn't have arranged better and poured more money into it on our own?"
"I dunno. I'll probably end up going anyways, right? I just don't personally get a good feeling about this one, but that's just me."
She was probably just being paranoid, as usual, self-defeating. As usual.
V8 Vibes:
V7 Vibes:
Om-nom-nom. One more onion ring down the hatch, and his half of the delectable treats were almost gone. Connor could feel the grease and batter swirling around in his stomach, reminding him that a high school athlete such as himself was better off not indulging in such unhealthy pursuits. But still, he was glad he'd done it. Joanne Coleman was a nice girl and he enjoyed the few times they crossed paths. So many high school kids still had their heads so far up their own asses, that having a chat with someone who was unabashedly themselves, and wasn't really someone to mince words?
It was refreshing.
Connor couldn't stifle the laugh that emerged once Joanne mused about one of his common cohort - Wyatt certainly wasn't everyone's cup of tea. Hell, he was barely palatable to those who liked him. While he didn't necessarily agree with some of the filth that streamed from his friend's mouth, the two had always respected one another, and Connor simply let a lot of those comments pass him by.
Besides, next to Wyatt, he looked like a saint.
As conversation shifted towards ill-fated senior trips, Connor saw the change in Joanne's demeanour and couldn't help but match it. Terrorist attacks on high school classes weren't as commonplace as they'd been ten years ago, but they still happened with alarming frequency and anyone who had a head on their shoulders knew to be vigilant when planning anything remotely like it.
"No, I understand. I'm not sure who's on the planning committee, but..." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "... if the right people aren't making the decisions, I can see the whole thing goin' off the rails real quick. Besides, if the administration doesn't make sure everything's up to par, all the parents will pitch a fit."
He smiled reassuringly, only half-believing it, but the other half not really caring. He would be going no matter what: it was not only expected, but it would probably be the last time he'd be able to be truly care-free before the rigors of college and more importantly, college football would scoop him up. Connor planned to be the one doing the chewing up and spitting out. The nation wasn't ready for him - that much, he knew.
"I'm sure it'll be fine. Worst thing we've had here in the past few years was Swarmageddon, anyhow. Y'all know nothing's gonna rate higher than that."
Connor winked and picked up the final onion ring, and eyed it before moving his gaze back to Joanne. She had asked him about the game, hadn't she?
"Oh, you're right. Game's next week, against Brentwood. We should handle 'em pretty well. The Carter boys have been salivating about knocking down their boy under centre. They've gotta get their aggression out somehow!"
It was refreshing.
Connor couldn't stifle the laugh that emerged once Joanne mused about one of his common cohort - Wyatt certainly wasn't everyone's cup of tea. Hell, he was barely palatable to those who liked him. While he didn't necessarily agree with some of the filth that streamed from his friend's mouth, the two had always respected one another, and Connor simply let a lot of those comments pass him by.
Besides, next to Wyatt, he looked like a saint.
As conversation shifted towards ill-fated senior trips, Connor saw the change in Joanne's demeanour and couldn't help but match it. Terrorist attacks on high school classes weren't as commonplace as they'd been ten years ago, but they still happened with alarming frequency and anyone who had a head on their shoulders knew to be vigilant when planning anything remotely like it.
"No, I understand. I'm not sure who's on the planning committee, but..." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "... if the right people aren't making the decisions, I can see the whole thing goin' off the rails real quick. Besides, if the administration doesn't make sure everything's up to par, all the parents will pitch a fit."
He smiled reassuringly, only half-believing it, but the other half not really caring. He would be going no matter what: it was not only expected, but it would probably be the last time he'd be able to be truly care-free before the rigors of college and more importantly, college football would scoop him up. Connor planned to be the one doing the chewing up and spitting out. The nation wasn't ready for him - that much, he knew.
"I'm sure it'll be fine. Worst thing we've had here in the past few years was Swarmageddon, anyhow. Y'all know nothing's gonna rate higher than that."
Connor winked and picked up the final onion ring, and eyed it before moving his gaze back to Joanne. She had asked him about the game, hadn't she?
"Oh, you're right. Game's next week, against Brentwood. We should handle 'em pretty well. The Carter boys have been salivating about knocking down their boy under centre. They've gotta get their aggression out somehow!"
Well that snapped her out of the dangerous mood.
"Salivating, huh?" Joanne's derision became the scowl on her lips. "A mental image I could have done without, thank you my good sir."
Her brief moment of supernova-burning outrage didn't last. Gravity collapsed it and the mood stayed heavy enough to quiet her breath.
"Hm." Eloquent-ass response, the admin could just go on and put Joanne up for Class Valedictorian already. A hypothetical role she already had a great plan for, in the form of blaring Beyoncé's Self Titled first-to-last track when she was called up to give the class speech.
"Well..." Joanne's brow remained heavy for a moment, inert like stone.
Then, she forced herself to stop caring. Easy enough. Back to basics, back to running elevator music in her head while she used her vocal chords as the amplifier PA system for a simulacrum of her own ego... Honestly that was deep and edgy as fuck, she had to hand it to herself on that one. Anyways. Joanne smirked, brightly, nodding as the self-appointed choir to Connor's optimistic preaching. The 'AMEN HALLELUJAH' to his sermon.
"Don't remind me about the Swarm. Have I ever mentioned I hate cicada shells? Have I ever mentioned how deadass creepy they are? No and no? How have we not had this conversation more often, I feel it's an absolutely crucial one to have with a friend?" By the end of her spiel Joanne had climbed all over at least one octave's worth of by-the-syllable shrillness and claimed it. Next octave, she'd managed to set up base camp.
"But yeah, you're right. I think they might host a new Student Council vote for this sem. So honestly chances are the only danger to the trip will be incompetent management. Again, no offense to anyone you might care about."
"Salivating, huh?" Joanne's derision became the scowl on her lips. "A mental image I could have done without, thank you my good sir."
Her brief moment of supernova-burning outrage didn't last. Gravity collapsed it and the mood stayed heavy enough to quiet her breath.
"Hm." Eloquent-ass response, the admin could just go on and put Joanne up for Class Valedictorian already. A hypothetical role she already had a great plan for, in the form of blaring Beyoncé's Self Titled first-to-last track when she was called up to give the class speech.
"Well..." Joanne's brow remained heavy for a moment, inert like stone.
Then, she forced herself to stop caring. Easy enough. Back to basics, back to running elevator music in her head while she used her vocal chords as the amplifier PA system for a simulacrum of her own ego... Honestly that was deep and edgy as fuck, she had to hand it to herself on that one. Anyways. Joanne smirked, brightly, nodding as the self-appointed choir to Connor's optimistic preaching. The 'AMEN HALLELUJAH' to his sermon.
"Don't remind me about the Swarm. Have I ever mentioned I hate cicada shells? Have I ever mentioned how deadass creepy they are? No and no? How have we not had this conversation more often, I feel it's an absolutely crucial one to have with a friend?" By the end of her spiel Joanne had climbed all over at least one octave's worth of by-the-syllable shrillness and claimed it. Next octave, she'd managed to set up base camp.
"But yeah, you're right. I think they might host a new Student Council vote for this sem. So honestly chances are the only danger to the trip will be incompetent management. Again, no offense to anyone you might care about."
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V7 Vibes:
Connor smirked and shrugged. He was well aware that some of his friends - Wyatt most obviously, were not exactly seen as the warmest and fuzziest crowd around. Hell, even Madison herself occasionally warranted the scorn of anyone who crossed her path. It didn't really faze him. He could only control his own behaviour, and how the people that entered his orbit looked at him.
"No offense taken, hun. I know as well as anyone that my crowd ain't everyone's cup of tea."
His attention shifted inwards briefly. Hun? Ain't? He was slipping back into a southern caricature again. A perception of himself as a 'good old boy' or a backwoods yokel wouldn't do him any favours in college interviews, and if that was a byproduct of feeling comfortable, it would be something he'd have to nip in the bud as soon as possible. A part of him cursed Joanne for being an easy listener, for bringing that out in him. It wasn't her fault, of course, but the briefest hint of a scowl crossed his countenance before he reached out and gobbled down the last onion ring, leaving his portion devoid of any more food.
"I think you've mentioned it once or twice, actually. Y'all had that discussion in history class last year that was hard to forget." He smirked. Mr. McClellan had been discussing the 2011 cicada invasion, and had gotten certain facts incorrect, which the historically-apt Joanne had corrected him on.
Naturally, that had gone over really well with the curmudgeonly history teacher. The two had engaged in a rather vicarious debate over the facts, which at one point had seen Joanne lecturing the older man on just all of the various reasons that the Swarm had impacted the region, capped off with a rather hilarious monologue on just why cicada shells were all sorts of awful.
He smiled at the memory. Truth was, before that outburst he hadn't really given Joanne Coleman a whole lot of thought, but not only had she made him guffaw (he hadn't been able to hide it, earning him a dirty look from McClellan), she was bang-on with all of her facts. Anyone that confident and that willing to take on someone in a position of authority was someone that Connor figured would go places in life.
In short - someone worth knowing.
"Old man McClellan still avoids you in the hallways, doesn't he?" Connor picked up a napkin and wiped his mouth, half trying to wipe the smile away.
"No offense taken, hun. I know as well as anyone that my crowd ain't everyone's cup of tea."
His attention shifted inwards briefly. Hun? Ain't? He was slipping back into a southern caricature again. A perception of himself as a 'good old boy' or a backwoods yokel wouldn't do him any favours in college interviews, and if that was a byproduct of feeling comfortable, it would be something he'd have to nip in the bud as soon as possible. A part of him cursed Joanne for being an easy listener, for bringing that out in him. It wasn't her fault, of course, but the briefest hint of a scowl crossed his countenance before he reached out and gobbled down the last onion ring, leaving his portion devoid of any more food.
"I think you've mentioned it once or twice, actually. Y'all had that discussion in history class last year that was hard to forget." He smirked. Mr. McClellan had been discussing the 2011 cicada invasion, and had gotten certain facts incorrect, which the historically-apt Joanne had corrected him on.
Naturally, that had gone over really well with the curmudgeonly history teacher. The two had engaged in a rather vicarious debate over the facts, which at one point had seen Joanne lecturing the older man on just all of the various reasons that the Swarm had impacted the region, capped off with a rather hilarious monologue on just why cicada shells were all sorts of awful.
He smiled at the memory. Truth was, before that outburst he hadn't really given Joanne Coleman a whole lot of thought, but not only had she made him guffaw (he hadn't been able to hide it, earning him a dirty look from McClellan), she was bang-on with all of her facts. Anyone that confident and that willing to take on someone in a position of authority was someone that Connor figured would go places in life.
In short - someone worth knowing.
"Old man McClellan still avoids you in the hallways, doesn't he?" Connor picked up a napkin and wiped his mouth, half trying to wipe the smile away.
'Hun'. Sometimes Joanne liked that little reminder that she was still home.
"Didn't last two minutes," Joanne nodded with exaggerated pride as she watched the last of their oily treat vanish into Connor's grasp. "We make a good team." She held up her hand for a high five, taking up her half of the table airspace and then some extra. Actual high five? Air five? Heck, she didn't care. She was feeling all kinds of triumphant at the moment, and she needed to loudly celebrate those feelings.
Oh. Now there was a callback. Joanne laughed, honestly, earnestly, loud enough that the Vietnamese couple that had taken her old table glanced back.
"I can't believe you remember that!" Still chuckling lightly between breaths like it was the funniest joke in the world.
Noise pollution, entomophobia sufferers, increased traffic due to change in local driving patterns... She'd ultimately only thrown herself into that debate with such passion and such almost uncharacteristic fact-finding because it had been twenty minutes of unwanted lecture eaten up. McClellan was the worst history teacher in GHHS bar none, with absolutely no appreciation for the innovative spirit and cultural paradigms set by the new generation of youth... And he was, just. Boring? Utterly, skin-drying, hose-againing, boring?
Joanne was still ultimately viewed as academically-challenged anyways. Just with a couple of new rumors and speculations that she was an insect savant.
Weird, but not the worst. She'd kind of liked it up until people had been asking her for advice with science project ant farms. But, where there's Wikipedia... there's a way.
"I still can't believe I got away with it. Only lost a few participation points at most, probably." She actually definitely had, she'd been running a spreadsheet with the online progress report site thing (that McClellan needed Zhang's help to use, or so went the claim). But no need to let people know she could, like, actually do math. That was information more secure than the Pentagon. In before data leaks.
"And yeah, I'm pretty sure he hates me. Here's the word he'd use for me. Uppity." She made a show of bashing her palm into her forehead and shaking her head gratuitously. "Fucking all-caps UGH! I'm so glad we had him Junior year so we didn't have to deal with him Senior year.. What about you, hun? Good classes this year?
God, we're so close to graduating..."
"Didn't last two minutes," Joanne nodded with exaggerated pride as she watched the last of their oily treat vanish into Connor's grasp. "We make a good team." She held up her hand for a high five, taking up her half of the table airspace and then some extra. Actual high five? Air five? Heck, she didn't care. She was feeling all kinds of triumphant at the moment, and she needed to loudly celebrate those feelings.
Oh. Now there was a callback. Joanne laughed, honestly, earnestly, loud enough that the Vietnamese couple that had taken her old table glanced back.
"I can't believe you remember that!" Still chuckling lightly between breaths like it was the funniest joke in the world.
Noise pollution, entomophobia sufferers, increased traffic due to change in local driving patterns... She'd ultimately only thrown herself into that debate with such passion and such almost uncharacteristic fact-finding because it had been twenty minutes of unwanted lecture eaten up. McClellan was the worst history teacher in GHHS bar none, with absolutely no appreciation for the innovative spirit and cultural paradigms set by the new generation of youth... And he was, just. Boring? Utterly, skin-drying, hose-againing, boring?
Joanne was still ultimately viewed as academically-challenged anyways. Just with a couple of new rumors and speculations that she was an insect savant.
Weird, but not the worst. She'd kind of liked it up until people had been asking her for advice with science project ant farms. But, where there's Wikipedia... there's a way.
"I still can't believe I got away with it. Only lost a few participation points at most, probably." She actually definitely had, she'd been running a spreadsheet with the online progress report site thing (that McClellan needed Zhang's help to use, or so went the claim). But no need to let people know she could, like, actually do math. That was information more secure than the Pentagon. In before data leaks.
"And yeah, I'm pretty sure he hates me. Here's the word he'd use for me. Uppity." She made a show of bashing her palm into her forehead and shaking her head gratuitously. "Fucking all-caps UGH! I'm so glad we had him Junior year so we didn't have to deal with him Senior year.. What about you, hun? Good classes this year?
God, we're so close to graduating..."
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Connor Lorenzen was never one to turn down a high-five opportunity, and as such, he didn't. Out of habit more than anything, he withdrew his hand post-smack, and snapped his fingers, flashing a thumbs-up at Joanne. A victory-five indeed, Connor and Joanne having achieved victory over the mighty onion ring king. It was all rather silly, and so he let a genuine chuckle escape his lips. His laugh was joined by a second similar one from across the table, and Joanne seemed to look almost surprised that Connor would remember the incident.
"Uppity? Is that right?" Connor smirked in response. "That has to be one of the strongest 'old-man' words I've ever heard. I reckon that'd be the exact way he sees you."
To have a teacher like Mr. McClellan in charge of teaching history at the junior level was, in Connor's eyes, an unfortunate reality of teaching in the American public school system. While not necessarily a huge history buff, he knew exactly how a disengaged teacher could ruin the learning experience for someone who was trying to understand a subject for the first time. Had he not had an effective and engaging math tutor, he knew full well that he wouldn't have had the patience to excel in mathematics like he did. It wouldn't be soon enough that George Hunter High School shipped Mr. McClellan off to pasture, and gave the duties of instructing students to someone who at least gave a little bit of a shit about making things interesting.
School wasn't Connor's favourite endeavour (football reigned, of course), but his parents had repeated the mantra over his entire life that knowledge was power, and that looking past any knowledge that one could gain was undoubtedly a mistake. Not everybody saw things that way, but Connor knew that any information gained was a step-up that you had on someone who didn't possess it.
Shifting in his chair, he took a second to consider his current slate of classes. He hadn't taken anything that dominated his time as much as some of his other classmates: outside of a few calculus courses that he'd taken, nothing stuck out as being too time-intensive. His marks were reflecting that, and it allowed for more time spent out in the yard or the gym. But the subjects themselves? Connor shook his head.
"Nothin' worth writing a book about. English class is okay sometimes, but more often than not it's just a lot of empty talk about what people meant to say or meant to mean, or whatever." He shrugged and brushed a stray piece of hair away from his eyes. "It's been okay, but y'all know it's the social stuff that's more important right now."
She was right. Graduation was so close. It would be a strange feeling to know that so many of the people that he'd grown up with, that he'd befriended - even briefly like Joanne, would be heading their separate ways. Teammates like Wyatt and Bret; even Madison would probably scatter. In another life, Connor knew that he'd have loved to keep his crew together, to pick a school based on proximity to his friends.
In another life, maybe. Not this one. In this one, he had more important things to do.
"Just a few months away and it seems like we've got so much to do first." He paused for a second, and glanced at Joanne inquisitively. "Y'all gone and picked a school yet?" He hadn't, but he supposed it wouldn't hurt to know where his peers were all going to land.
Having Joanne Coleman around at his university wouldn't be the worst fate in the world, at least.
"Uppity? Is that right?" Connor smirked in response. "That has to be one of the strongest 'old-man' words I've ever heard. I reckon that'd be the exact way he sees you."
To have a teacher like Mr. McClellan in charge of teaching history at the junior level was, in Connor's eyes, an unfortunate reality of teaching in the American public school system. While not necessarily a huge history buff, he knew exactly how a disengaged teacher could ruin the learning experience for someone who was trying to understand a subject for the first time. Had he not had an effective and engaging math tutor, he knew full well that he wouldn't have had the patience to excel in mathematics like he did. It wouldn't be soon enough that George Hunter High School shipped Mr. McClellan off to pasture, and gave the duties of instructing students to someone who at least gave a little bit of a shit about making things interesting.
School wasn't Connor's favourite endeavour (football reigned, of course), but his parents had repeated the mantra over his entire life that knowledge was power, and that looking past any knowledge that one could gain was undoubtedly a mistake. Not everybody saw things that way, but Connor knew that any information gained was a step-up that you had on someone who didn't possess it.
Shifting in his chair, he took a second to consider his current slate of classes. He hadn't taken anything that dominated his time as much as some of his other classmates: outside of a few calculus courses that he'd taken, nothing stuck out as being too time-intensive. His marks were reflecting that, and it allowed for more time spent out in the yard or the gym. But the subjects themselves? Connor shook his head.
"Nothin' worth writing a book about. English class is okay sometimes, but more often than not it's just a lot of empty talk about what people meant to say or meant to mean, or whatever." He shrugged and brushed a stray piece of hair away from his eyes. "It's been okay, but y'all know it's the social stuff that's more important right now."
She was right. Graduation was so close. It would be a strange feeling to know that so many of the people that he'd grown up with, that he'd befriended - even briefly like Joanne, would be heading their separate ways. Teammates like Wyatt and Bret; even Madison would probably scatter. In another life, Connor knew that he'd have loved to keep his crew together, to pick a school based on proximity to his friends.
In another life, maybe. Not this one. In this one, he had more important things to do.
"Just a few months away and it seems like we've got so much to do first." He paused for a second, and glanced at Joanne inquisitively. "Y'all gone and picked a school yet?" He hadn't, but he supposed it wouldn't hurt to know where his peers were all going to land.
Having Joanne Coleman around at his university wouldn't be the worst fate in the world, at least.
Joanne's phone was beginning to ring. It reminded her that she existed in a reality beyond this pleasant conversation, wherein she had friends and family she was losing or had yet to lose, wherein there were not eternal moments of simple pleasures and bliss but merely vanishing moments, memories that lasted a lifetime longer than the beauty they had been spun from. Memories that broke the heart into fragments of scar tissue more plentiful than could ever be healed.
She would one day remember a pleasant and perhaps never meaningful conversation with Conor Lorenzen. She would remember the era it had fit into, the home she'd once belonged to before it had fractionated into the ether and slipped between her fingers like the grease of a meal once enjoyed, now long gone.
She ignored the phone. Ignored the haunting implications that spindled and spiraled out of that one infinitely mundane sound of a ringtone made from the mp3 beat of Partition.
"It's also one of the most racist words, nowadays. Look it up if you get a chance, but Mr. McClellan is flailing for reasons to hate my skin color harder than he likes to flail for the door whenever someone tries to leave." Joanne put on her best impression of old white man voice, dehydrating her throat infinitely in the process as she warbled, "If you leave this classroom, good sir, you are not returning with an attendance grade!" She flailed her hands in the most crotchety way she could manage, wrist stiff, fingers clawing at the air. The impression wasn't particularly impressive, sounding more like a cartoon than an old man, but she'd tried.
She nodded along, as Conor explained his class situation. No complaints, no objections there. She too was taking on the challenge of prom dates and weekend parties as more important than any old grade in math or whatever.
Not necessarily by choice.
"Guess I'll take a gap year, maybe volunteer or something." That was Joanne's patented lie, she already knew her college. UC Riverside on scholarship for an impressive essay and interview. Well within her means, but...
Did she know her college? Did she want to go that far away from home?
Better way to phrase that question. Was she running away from the pain, or the responsibility? Or was she standing her ground, accomplishing nothing in the process anyways?
"Time's gonna fly fast, I gue-..."
The phone acted up, again. This time, Joanne realized she couldn't have ignored it if she wanted to.
"Shit, I gotta take this and run. Dad's waiting to pick me up!"
She smiled her way out, with a firm nod possessing of her usual bluster that she tried to feel as she insistently grabbed the tray... dumped her share of the money at Conor, holding up a hand at any and all protest because she was ballin' like that.
"Call me beep me, hun." And she was gone, bringing the tray to where it belonged, back to Old Tony, who took it personally with a nod wiser than her cumulative eighteen years on this earth. And then, very simply, she was gone. Vanished into the crowd, but not for a while, for how distinctive she was making her way through the masses with her affected strut.
((Joanne Coleman continued))
She would one day remember a pleasant and perhaps never meaningful conversation with Conor Lorenzen. She would remember the era it had fit into, the home she'd once belonged to before it had fractionated into the ether and slipped between her fingers like the grease of a meal once enjoyed, now long gone.
She ignored the phone. Ignored the haunting implications that spindled and spiraled out of that one infinitely mundane sound of a ringtone made from the mp3 beat of Partition.
"It's also one of the most racist words, nowadays. Look it up if you get a chance, but Mr. McClellan is flailing for reasons to hate my skin color harder than he likes to flail for the door whenever someone tries to leave." Joanne put on her best impression of old white man voice, dehydrating her throat infinitely in the process as she warbled, "If you leave this classroom, good sir, you are not returning with an attendance grade!" She flailed her hands in the most crotchety way she could manage, wrist stiff, fingers clawing at the air. The impression wasn't particularly impressive, sounding more like a cartoon than an old man, but she'd tried.
She nodded along, as Conor explained his class situation. No complaints, no objections there. She too was taking on the challenge of prom dates and weekend parties as more important than any old grade in math or whatever.
Not necessarily by choice.
"Guess I'll take a gap year, maybe volunteer or something." That was Joanne's patented lie, she already knew her college. UC Riverside on scholarship for an impressive essay and interview. Well within her means, but...
Did she know her college? Did she want to go that far away from home?
Better way to phrase that question. Was she running away from the pain, or the responsibility? Or was she standing her ground, accomplishing nothing in the process anyways?
"Time's gonna fly fast, I gue-..."
The phone acted up, again. This time, Joanne realized she couldn't have ignored it if she wanted to.
"Shit, I gotta take this and run. Dad's waiting to pick me up!"
She smiled her way out, with a firm nod possessing of her usual bluster that she tried to feel as she insistently grabbed the tray... dumped her share of the money at Conor, holding up a hand at any and all protest because she was ballin' like that.
"Call me beep me, hun." And she was gone, bringing the tray to where it belonged, back to Old Tony, who took it personally with a nod wiser than her cumulative eighteen years on this earth. And then, very simply, she was gone. Vanished into the crowd, but not for a while, for how distinctive she was making her way through the masses with her affected strut.
((Joanne Coleman continued))
V8 Vibes:
V7 Vibes: