Kate listened intently to the ongoing conversation, seemed like she stirred a rousing topic. She inwardly smiled, it had been so long since she actually had the courage the talk with people.
“I think my favorite part of the show, was when Dodd was in the shower...” She blushed. Taking a hand she began to fan herself with it.
“Ooh! I do think I see one of my friends coming along, do you mind if he sits with us?” She politely asks.
An International Phenomenon
Another RP From the SOTF Universe! (2018 note: also sort of v1 Meanwhiles)
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ZigZaggerty†
- Posts: 84
- Joined: Fri Sep 07, 2018 3:52 pm
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Whilst all these events unfolded within the school, outside the main building (a dangerous place to be for sure), Panom rolled another rizzler, tainted with what little green he'd managed to get hold of off the black markets, which were choking under the present system. He pressed the little roll between his teeth and held a light beneath it, taking one big pull to get it started, then fell to the floor in addict ectstasy.
Three years he'd been in this country, and still he hated it. He hated the people, he hated the system, he hated the low grade drugs at high level prices and stupid, resrictive laws on just about everything fun.
Back in Thailand, his home, when he had been top fighter in his boxing stable, he ruled his town. Literally whatever he wanted, girls, drugs- he got it, because he could fight. Over here that counted for nothing. The spoils went to the undeserving and the truly powerful ended up snuck behind some old rubbish pits on the outskirts of town, rolling spliffs that could barely stick out past their nostrils, wondering when the hell they will ever seen any true excitement.
Computer games and televisions, the events transpiring right now had no interest to Panom, he was not living them, why should he care for them. Truthfully, he envied those who had died thus far in the game, because those last few moments before they passed on must have been bloody exciting. He had no desire to kill, or to be killed. He did not hate anyone in his school, he just did'nt care about them either. All Panom wanted was a chance to relive the days when to fight was the only way to survive, the life his mother had stolen from him. She thought she was giving him something better, but being a god in hell is better than being nothing in heaven.
And this place was hardly heaven.
With a melancholic sigh Panom swallowed the little wad of paper between his teeth, all that remained of his pathetic roll-up, and stood to return to school, it would'nt do for them to notice he was gone.
Three years he'd been in this country, and still he hated it. He hated the people, he hated the system, he hated the low grade drugs at high level prices and stupid, resrictive laws on just about everything fun.
Back in Thailand, his home, when he had been top fighter in his boxing stable, he ruled his town. Literally whatever he wanted, girls, drugs- he got it, because he could fight. Over here that counted for nothing. The spoils went to the undeserving and the truly powerful ended up snuck behind some old rubbish pits on the outskirts of town, rolling spliffs that could barely stick out past their nostrils, wondering when the hell they will ever seen any true excitement.
Computer games and televisions, the events transpiring right now had no interest to Panom, he was not living them, why should he care for them. Truthfully, he envied those who had died thus far in the game, because those last few moments before they passed on must have been bloody exciting. He had no desire to kill, or to be killed. He did not hate anyone in his school, he just did'nt care about them either. All Panom wanted was a chance to relive the days when to fight was the only way to survive, the life his mother had stolen from him. She thought she was giving him something better, but being a god in hell is better than being nothing in heaven.
And this place was hardly heaven.
With a melancholic sigh Panom swallowed the little wad of paper between his teeth, all that remained of his pathetic roll-up, and stood to return to school, it would'nt do for them to notice he was gone.
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OnceForgotten†
- Posts: 225
- Joined: Sat Aug 18, 2018 2:46 am
At 11:30 in the afternoon most people were in the lunch room eating, probobly discussing what was all over the TV, SOTF. Not Roger though. Roger Hamilton III, son of the richest man in the state, was doing a line of coke in the bathroom.
"C'mon Roger, snort that shit so we can get out of here."
"Chill Tony. Fucking just chill. My nose feels like I just snorted fucking wasabi."
"Pussy."
Roger turned and glared at Tony, shutting him up immediatly. Though Roger was not necessarily a big guy, people knew him as a loose cannon, one who could be perticularly vicious if he didn't like someone. He stood about 6-2, and weighed nearly 200 lbs. He had a semi gangly look, but had a razor sharp tounge and plenty of friends to back his sometimes too big of a mouth up.
Tony was one of those friends. He was currently the state champion wrestler at heavyweight, and being a sophomore, was already looked at as one of the best budding wrestlers in the nation. Pritty good for someone who only started wrestling as a Freshman.
Roger leaned over and sniffed the whole line in one go.
"Fuck yeah bitch. Lets Roll."
They walked out of the bathroom and in to the lunchroom, scanning the area for some easy prey. Seeing the nerd Preston Grey shooting his mouth off, he had found his target.
"Shut up Fuckhead. Every time you talk it sounds like you just took a dick out of your mouth."
"C'mon Roger, snort that shit so we can get out of here."
"Chill Tony. Fucking just chill. My nose feels like I just snorted fucking wasabi."
"Pussy."
Roger turned and glared at Tony, shutting him up immediatly. Though Roger was not necessarily a big guy, people knew him as a loose cannon, one who could be perticularly vicious if he didn't like someone. He stood about 6-2, and weighed nearly 200 lbs. He had a semi gangly look, but had a razor sharp tounge and plenty of friends to back his sometimes too big of a mouth up.
Tony was one of those friends. He was currently the state champion wrestler at heavyweight, and being a sophomore, was already looked at as one of the best budding wrestlers in the nation. Pritty good for someone who only started wrestling as a Freshman.
Roger leaned over and sniffed the whole line in one go.
"Fuck yeah bitch. Lets Roll."
They walked out of the bathroom and in to the lunchroom, scanning the area for some easy prey. Seeing the nerd Preston Grey shooting his mouth off, he had found his target.
"Shut up Fuckhead. Every time you talk it sounds like you just took a dick out of your mouth."
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"You would know, wouldn't ya?" Thomas said in a jeering voice from his table. He was about to reply to Kates question when he heard Rogers voice taunting Preston a few tables away. Making an irritated grunting noise while closing his mouth, he had looked up to Roger and his friend Tony (who Thomas admitted was a tough wrestler, but he felt he could take him.). Glaring at them, he stood up and continued to speak.
"Hell, you look like you could be a member of the Royals." he scoffed. The Royals were a gang of rich boys that had territory near the northern part of the city, a bunch of rich kids who got off on crimes such as assault, vandalism, and sometimes murder (the occasional rape happened as well, but this was rare and the Royals considered rape a severe breach of discipline), getting away with it constantly by bribing the local police. They weren't really tough, more politicians than soldiers, with their only real strength coming from their families and the fact that of all the gangs, they had the highest access to guns. They were also the main rivals of a group called the Spartans, though they almost always came out on the losing end in those fights. Thomas knew (thanks to the leader of the gang he worked for sometimes, known as the Hellbirds) that to say someone looked like a Royals member was the equivalent of calling them a spoiled rich brat and was a pretty serious insult, never to be used unless the speaker could back up words with actions. He didn't know if either Roger or Tony knew that, but he was ready still.
"And don't try anything. Sure, your mate Tony might be tough, but I could whip both of you with a blindfold on, three toes cut off, a finger broken, and myself fucking a prostitute. Even then, your pig of a father couldn't do anything! Yeah, he's rich, but suing me or my family wouldn't do jack for him and he knows it, my folks and I are some of the poorest people in the state, what would he sue us for, rags?" grinning confidently, he waited for the response. If anyone listened carefully, they'd realize he was intentionally trying to provoke them and make Roger look like an idiot. Of course, he didn't think Roger would listen carefully.
OOC: Sorry if I'm over the top, just thought I'd put some emnity in this.
OOC edit: Thought I should put more info about the Royals. Anyone who's played The Warriors videogame should know which gang they're influenced by
.
"Hell, you look like you could be a member of the Royals." he scoffed. The Royals were a gang of rich boys that had territory near the northern part of the city, a bunch of rich kids who got off on crimes such as assault, vandalism, and sometimes murder (the occasional rape happened as well, but this was rare and the Royals considered rape a severe breach of discipline), getting away with it constantly by bribing the local police. They weren't really tough, more politicians than soldiers, with their only real strength coming from their families and the fact that of all the gangs, they had the highest access to guns. They were also the main rivals of a group called the Spartans, though they almost always came out on the losing end in those fights. Thomas knew (thanks to the leader of the gang he worked for sometimes, known as the Hellbirds) that to say someone looked like a Royals member was the equivalent of calling them a spoiled rich brat and was a pretty serious insult, never to be used unless the speaker could back up words with actions. He didn't know if either Roger or Tony knew that, but he was ready still.
"And don't try anything. Sure, your mate Tony might be tough, but I could whip both of you with a blindfold on, three toes cut off, a finger broken, and myself fucking a prostitute. Even then, your pig of a father couldn't do anything! Yeah, he's rich, but suing me or my family wouldn't do jack for him and he knows it, my folks and I are some of the poorest people in the state, what would he sue us for, rags?" grinning confidently, he waited for the response. If anyone listened carefully, they'd realize he was intentionally trying to provoke them and make Roger look like an idiot. Of course, he didn't think Roger would listen carefully.
OOC: Sorry if I'm over the top, just thought I'd put some emnity in this.
OOC edit: Thought I should put more info about the Royals. Anyone who's played The Warriors videogame should know which gang they're influenced by
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As Panom entered the lunchroom, his pathetic high already having worn off, he was itching. Every tendon of his flesh, every fibre of his being was stinging. In his head his brain had shrunk to a golf-ball and rattled around agonizingly at every slight movement he made. He was sick, an addicts sickness. With the sickness came restlessness, and upon entering the lunchroom the scene his eyes met up on could'nt have been more perfect. A fight was begining.
From within his chest ruptured forth a sickening cry that only Panom could hear, a call from his heart, a call to attack. It didnt matter what this fight was for, who had caused it or why, all that mattered was that he finish it. Like back home, he would crush them all and...no, no way.
Panom would have to resist. The consequences of his actions always outweighed the temporal pleasure he derived from them at the time of their performance. He decided, he would merely watch, and hope that his focus would distract his mind from the sickness enveloping it.
I need a fucking high.
I need a fucking high.
I need a fucking high.
All his focus fell upon the slow repition of this exruciating and obvious fact over and over and over in his mind.
Then he realised he had been standing in the middle of the lunchroom staring for the best part of the last ten minutes.
From within his chest ruptured forth a sickening cry that only Panom could hear, a call from his heart, a call to attack. It didnt matter what this fight was for, who had caused it or why, all that mattered was that he finish it. Like back home, he would crush them all and...no, no way.
Panom would have to resist. The consequences of his actions always outweighed the temporal pleasure he derived from them at the time of their performance. He decided, he would merely watch, and hope that his focus would distract his mind from the sickness enveloping it.
I need a fucking high.
I need a fucking high.
I need a fucking high.
All his focus fell upon the slow repition of this exruciating and obvious fact over and over and over in his mind.
Then he realised he had been standing in the middle of the lunchroom staring for the best part of the last ten minutes.
I am an archival account used by staff to port old posts from handlers no longer active. If you are this handler, get in touch with staff and we can get your posts back for you! Minase avatar by Kermit.
((*grins* Might as well get back into this whole AU RPing malarky, eh? I'm not counting this as an official pre-game thread (because there'd be some definite continuities), but if I get the OK with Kai then I'm definitely using this guy for V2. 
))
"And this is the cafeteria!" The girl pushed open the doors and nodded in enthusiastically. The boy responded with a slight nod, looking around inside.
It was big. A lot bigger than what he was used to... how well he'd fit in here, he wasn't sure. But he had to fit in. It was vital he was here.
He had promises to keep.
"I bet you're hungry!" the girl gushed as she walked in after him. "All that walking around all day, you must be... what is it that they say in England? Peckish?" She giggled as if she'd told a funny joke. The boy responded by giving her a dark look.
"First of all," he said, quietly but his voice was riddled with venom, "I'm not English. I'm Welsh."
The girl looked slightly taken aback as her smile faded slightly.
"Sorry, I didn't me-"
"Secondly," the boy cut across her loudly. "I'm not in the mood for anymore talking. I appreciate you've been told to guide me around and the tour's been great, it really has- but I'm hungry, and in no mood for mindless talking. If you don't mind, could you just leave me alone now?"
The girl looked uncertain and glanced around, as if pleading passers-by to come and help her out. The boy sighed exasperatedly.
"I'm sure I won't get lost in a canteen. I've been through worse, you know?"
Not waiting for her to make up her mind, the boy turned his back on her. He wasn't hungry in the slightest, but he couldn't stand another moment of the cheerful bimbo smiling and laughing as she dragged him around the school. It wasn't what he was here for, and it wasn't an efficent way to spend time.
Glancing around, he saw an empty table and immediately headed for it, avoiding the large queue that was forming near the serving area. Flinging his bag down, he sat down roughly on the chair, running his hands through his head.
He was a good looking boy- that was plain enough to see- but it was obvious to the objective outsider that he had let himself go somewhat. His clothes were scruffy and his hair was unkempt; all in all he gave a distinct impression that he wasn't bothered about his appearance and hadn't been in some while.
And that was OK. It kept people away, it had stopped them asking questions- and there had been so many of those. Questions, that is. So many since-
Since she died.
________________________________
"Did you hear?" A shrieking voice sounded through the corridors of Jenna Park Secondary School. "He's missing!"
"Who?" another girl responded as she took her books out of her locker.
"Reese! He's gone!"
))"And this is the cafeteria!" The girl pushed open the doors and nodded in enthusiastically. The boy responded with a slight nod, looking around inside.
It was big. A lot bigger than what he was used to... how well he'd fit in here, he wasn't sure. But he had to fit in. It was vital he was here.
He had promises to keep.
"I bet you're hungry!" the girl gushed as she walked in after him. "All that walking around all day, you must be... what is it that they say in England? Peckish?" She giggled as if she'd told a funny joke. The boy responded by giving her a dark look.
"First of all," he said, quietly but his voice was riddled with venom, "I'm not English. I'm Welsh."
The girl looked slightly taken aback as her smile faded slightly.
"Sorry, I didn't me-"
"Secondly," the boy cut across her loudly. "I'm not in the mood for anymore talking. I appreciate you've been told to guide me around and the tour's been great, it really has- but I'm hungry, and in no mood for mindless talking. If you don't mind, could you just leave me alone now?"
The girl looked uncertain and glanced around, as if pleading passers-by to come and help her out. The boy sighed exasperatedly.
"I'm sure I won't get lost in a canteen. I've been through worse, you know?"
Not waiting for her to make up her mind, the boy turned his back on her. He wasn't hungry in the slightest, but he couldn't stand another moment of the cheerful bimbo smiling and laughing as she dragged him around the school. It wasn't what he was here for, and it wasn't an efficent way to spend time.
Glancing around, he saw an empty table and immediately headed for it, avoiding the large queue that was forming near the serving area. Flinging his bag down, he sat down roughly on the chair, running his hands through his head.
He was a good looking boy- that was plain enough to see- but it was obvious to the objective outsider that he had let himself go somewhat. His clothes were scruffy and his hair was unkempt; all in all he gave a distinct impression that he wasn't bothered about his appearance and hadn't been in some while.
And that was OK. It kept people away, it had stopped them asking questions- and there had been so many of those. Questions, that is. So many since-
Since she died.
________________________________
"Did you hear?" A shrieking voice sounded through the corridors of Jenna Park Secondary School. "He's missing!"
"Who?" another girl responded as she took her books out of her locker.
"Reese! He's gone!"
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((OOC: Thanks, bro. I owe ya one. And are the kids at the lunch table Megami's? I know she wouldn't mind me using them in the least...if you or anyone's reading this, I'm asking in front of everyone.))d0ddi0slave,Mar 29 2006, 08:59 PM wrote:And...done.
"Yeah...and I had Crosby on my team too," said a boy who was sitting behind Kevin, Preston, Keirsten and the others. They should have known who it was by the fact that he spoke with a heavy Scandinavian accent...let alone the hair he had that came down to just below his shoulder blades, which was such a shade of golden blonde that it would make some of the cheerleaders jealous. He also had a scar under his right eye, which was another distinguishing feature on this boy as well...but he was big for a 15-year old as well, standing at least two or three inches over six feet in height and weighing close to, if not more than 200 pounds.
He had followed the spectacle that was Survival of the Fittest as well...but to hear the conspiracy behind one of the NHL's brightest young stars didn't set too well with Vesa Turunen. He had come to Breckenridge from his native Finland as an exchange student and was proud of his heritage, judging by the blue-and-white armbands he wore every day. But he was one of the most intelligent kids that went to the school; he was not only fluent in English and Finnish, but also three other languages and had all A's on his progress report while taking advance classes...so he was one to consider things from all angles.
"I'll only believe you if I see him on the field, Kevin," said Vesa with a smile, "If not...minä apu sinun johtaa ajaksi jalkapallo..." (I'll use your head for a football) Vesa turned back, laughing quietly while Kevin sat there with a dumbfounded look on his face, trying to figure out what he just said...
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(OOC: Sorry all. Been one hell of a week at work cause of Spring Break, and now we're having hellacious weather on top of it. This's probably gonna suck cause I'm just... not feelin' it today, but I figured I should at least get somethin' up so I'm not holding you guys up any longer. On another note, I actually hadn't planned on using any of the current characters I'm RPing in v2... maybe later on, but not immediately.)
At the sudden outburst directed toward Preston, he immediately resumed his seat at the cafeteria table. Preston wasn't a very physically imposing prescence to begin with, standing at about 5'9" and weighing all of about 120 pounds. His lanky appearance didn't exactly scream out "fighter" and indeed, Preston certainly wasn't one. He simply sat down at the table, looking down at the wooden object with an almost blank expression on his face.
While Preston might not have been one to stand up for himself, Keirsten Tyling always had something to say, and now was certainly no exception. Sure, she and Preston had been arguing only moments before, but it had been a semi-playful argument. This guy, he was just pushing it. Keirsten had always had a bad tendency to shoot off before she thought about it, and almost before she realized what she was doing, she had popped off some smart-mouthed remark to the duo currently picking on Preston.
"Don't worry about it, Pres. Some idiots," she emphasized the last part, casting a glare toward the two, "have to pick on other people to make themselves look big. They're usually trying to make up for another department they're lacking in."
Casting them another annoyed glare, Keirsten finally took notice of the crowd that had been gathering around, including all the newcomers that had just appeared. Simply blowing off the event, Keirsten assumed it wouldn't escalate much further. This was, after all, a school cafeteria. Not really an opportune place to pick a fight, or so she would imagine. Meanwhile, Kyle York had actually become disinterested in his plate of food. Now, his gaze was transfixed on the scene unfolding in front of him, and he watched with a keen interest, wondering where the rather tense situation would go.
At the sudden outburst directed toward Preston, he immediately resumed his seat at the cafeteria table. Preston wasn't a very physically imposing prescence to begin with, standing at about 5'9" and weighing all of about 120 pounds. His lanky appearance didn't exactly scream out "fighter" and indeed, Preston certainly wasn't one. He simply sat down at the table, looking down at the wooden object with an almost blank expression on his face.
While Preston might not have been one to stand up for himself, Keirsten Tyling always had something to say, and now was certainly no exception. Sure, she and Preston had been arguing only moments before, but it had been a semi-playful argument. This guy, he was just pushing it. Keirsten had always had a bad tendency to shoot off before she thought about it, and almost before she realized what she was doing, she had popped off some smart-mouthed remark to the duo currently picking on Preston.
"Don't worry about it, Pres. Some idiots," she emphasized the last part, casting a glare toward the two, "have to pick on other people to make themselves look big. They're usually trying to make up for another department they're lacking in."
Casting them another annoyed glare, Keirsten finally took notice of the crowd that had been gathering around, including all the newcomers that had just appeared. Simply blowing off the event, Keirsten assumed it wouldn't escalate much further. This was, after all, a school cafeteria. Not really an opportune place to pick a fight, or so she would imagine. Meanwhile, Kyle York had actually become disinterested in his plate of food. Now, his gaze was transfixed on the scene unfolding in front of him, and he watched with a keen interest, wondering where the rather tense situation would go.
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Jack took a good look around, analysing the situation in an attempt to ascertain the best course of action to take in order to quell the tension amassing within the lunchroom. The whole school had been on the brink of civil war ever since the broadcasts of SOTF had arrived on the TV. Blood had been boiling and emotions had been running high. Jack of course was affected like everyone else, but his naturally mellow nature allowed him to keep a pretty cool head whilst everyone else delved into practical madness. The 'hard' kids knew not to challenge him, the 'cool' kids knew to screw with him, Jack generally got life pretty easy, and he was'nt self centred enough not to try and simplify the lives of other people in order to equate the balance. Karma was of high importance to him. Right now he felt he had to prevent the arguing escalating into fighting, or at least try, or in future if there were to be a similar situation involving him about to get smashed up, no one would help him. So firm was his faith in the majesties of karma that he really believed this was true.
Unfortunately, for all his positivity, Jack was not a logical thinker. He saw only one way to sort this whole mess out, he lifted his half-eaten lunch (prawn mayo sandwhich) and hurled it into the crowd of gathered students.
Unfortunately, for all his positivity, Jack was not a logical thinker. He saw only one way to sort this whole mess out, he lifted his half-eaten lunch (prawn mayo sandwhich) and hurled it into the crowd of gathered students.
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Jack's lunch went hurtling into the crowd, not knowing...or caring what it hit...and it soon found its target when it hit Vesa square in the side of the head. He was sitting with a couple of boys he had quickly befriended...the boy to the left was Brenton Davis, another sophomore whose father was an Army officer that had decided to live the civilian life. To his right was junior David Jennings; like Vesa, he was a hockey player and was about to tell him about the Redwood City Foresters, the local junior team. The past summer, Vesa was captain of Team Finland in the world junior championships in Edmonton, the youngest player ever in his nation's involvement to be named captain. He played center and led all players with nine goals and seventeen points in helping his team to the silver medal, losing to the hosts from Canada in a shootout.
The three boys stood up in unison and looked around for the source of the tray-turned-projectile. "Mitä vittua?!?" (What the fuck?!?) gasped Vesa, wiping the remnants of the sandwich out of his hair, "The hell was that?" Instantly, their gazes turned to Jack, but Vesa quickly got them to sit down before going over to where he was sitting.
"Be careful with him," David said, "you don't know if he's gonna lay a good ass-whooping on ya!" But Vesa wasn't afraid of him...or anyone for that matter. He didn't see a reason to be as he approached Jack and stared down at him, though he didn't lose his smile or show immediate signs of hostility.
"Can you tell me what the big idea was when you threw your lunch across the cafeteria like that?" he said, "I don't want to fight...I just want to know why you did it..."
The three boys stood up in unison and looked around for the source of the tray-turned-projectile. "Mitä vittua?!?" (What the fuck?!?) gasped Vesa, wiping the remnants of the sandwich out of his hair, "The hell was that?" Instantly, their gazes turned to Jack, but Vesa quickly got them to sit down before going over to where he was sitting.
"Be careful with him," David said, "you don't know if he's gonna lay a good ass-whooping on ya!" But Vesa wasn't afraid of him...or anyone for that matter. He didn't see a reason to be as he approached Jack and stared down at him, though he didn't lose his smile or show immediate signs of hostility.
"Can you tell me what the big idea was when you threw your lunch across the cafeteria like that?" he said, "I don't want to fight...I just want to know why you did it..."
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"Becuase Roger and Tony are stupid as fuck and the likely hood of one of them smacking Keirsten for what she just said strikes me as a little too high. Now I don't know what kind of reputation I have around this school but I'm not particularly into seeing girls get there heads beaten in by total mugs, espescially when I'll probably end up being the one who tries to break it up and gets into an even worse situation himself. So I broke the whole thing up in the best way I could think of on the spot, by drawing the attention away from her and onto me. Don't freak out man, you seem pretty safe, sorry you ended up being the one my food hit, but I'm sure you can take it, after all you helped out a girl, she'll apreciate that in the future man."
Jack grinned and gave Vesa a little wink. He was'nt really too worried about the situation he found himself in now, in fact, considering the rashness of his decision, his while plan had worked out pretty okay so far.
His plans always produced very different results, because they were always so spontaneously and rapidly cooked up, you could never tell exactly where they were headed. This had contributed to Jack's muddled reputation. He was thought of as a very headstrong, friendly, tough, mad, clever, charming, random and frustrating young man by most people that knew him. The only thing they all maintained to be definate about Jack was that he was hard to dislike, he just had one of those cheeky smiles that you could'nt help but return.
He was'nt particularly good looking, but at best he was interesting. His ears were tiny, his nose was prominant, his eyes were dark and wide and framed perfectly by his bushy eyebrows. His hair was styled into a perfect mess, his lips were pouty and his smile went from one ear to the other, held in place by no less than two pairs of giant dimples on either side of his mouth. When he smiled he always bore his shiny teeth, and ran his tongue across them. He was not particularly good looking, that was true, but he knew exactly how to make use of what he had been given.
Right now he was'nt much relying on his looks, he did'nt know Vesa well enough to take a stab at whether he was really inclined that way, but nevertheless he employed his cheeky smile and extended a hand to the young scandinavian.
"What do you say man, you and me put this behind us and try to get along a little better in the future huh? I mean I've suffered out of this experience as well you know, I was enjoying that friggin sandwhich!"
What the hell, it was'nt much of a joke, but the kid was foreign, maybe he'd laugh anyway!
OOC:Apologies if any of my future posts don't seem up to scratch, I shot my pc screen today and it now has a big crack in the middle of it, which makes posting a little hard.
Jack grinned and gave Vesa a little wink. He was'nt really too worried about the situation he found himself in now, in fact, considering the rashness of his decision, his while plan had worked out pretty okay so far.
His plans always produced very different results, because they were always so spontaneously and rapidly cooked up, you could never tell exactly where they were headed. This had contributed to Jack's muddled reputation. He was thought of as a very headstrong, friendly, tough, mad, clever, charming, random and frustrating young man by most people that knew him. The only thing they all maintained to be definate about Jack was that he was hard to dislike, he just had one of those cheeky smiles that you could'nt help but return.
He was'nt particularly good looking, but at best he was interesting. His ears were tiny, his nose was prominant, his eyes were dark and wide and framed perfectly by his bushy eyebrows. His hair was styled into a perfect mess, his lips were pouty and his smile went from one ear to the other, held in place by no less than two pairs of giant dimples on either side of his mouth. When he smiled he always bore his shiny teeth, and ran his tongue across them. He was not particularly good looking, that was true, but he knew exactly how to make use of what he had been given.
Right now he was'nt much relying on his looks, he did'nt know Vesa well enough to take a stab at whether he was really inclined that way, but nevertheless he employed his cheeky smile and extended a hand to the young scandinavian.
"What do you say man, you and me put this behind us and try to get along a little better in the future huh? I mean I've suffered out of this experience as well you know, I was enjoying that friggin sandwhich!"
What the hell, it was'nt much of a joke, but the kid was foreign, maybe he'd laugh anyway!
OOC:Apologies if any of my future posts don't seem up to scratch, I shot my pc screen today and it now has a big crack in the middle of it, which makes posting a little hard.
I am an archival account used by staff to port old posts from handlers no longer active. If you are this handler, get in touch with staff and we can get your posts back for you! Minase avatar by Kermit.
A coy grin started to form across Vesa's face as he continued to stare down Jack. He wasn't in the mood to fight or start something as he straighten himself back up to a more erect position, the logo of the Anaheim Mighty Ducks the promenant feature on the purple hockey jersey he was wearing.
"Tell you what," said Vesa in a cool, calm tone, "I'll go back over to where I was sitting with my friends and we can forget any of this happened. I'm not in the mood to start any shit right now, and I want to keep it that way." He then took the offered hand and gave it a firm shake, the smile growing on his face. "By the way, my name's Vesa if we should ever meet again....I don't think I've ever met someone new after they threw a lunch tray at me..." Vesa kept his smile and let go of Jack's hand, then turned to walk back to where Brenton and David were sitting, letting him see the number 13 on the back, though his long locks obscured the name. It was the jersey of Teemu Selanne, Vesa's countryman and hero since he could remember liking the sport of hockey, and it was relatively unscathed as well after the tray hit him in the head.
***************
"Oh my God, who is that? Hey Cass, do you know who that is" asked Brittany Clausen to her best friend, Cassie Gaughan. Brittany was relatively short with an athletic build and shoulder-length brunette hair. She had a decent-sized chest, nothing that really stood out like what some of the girls had...just enough to get her noticed without drawing from her sea-blue eyes and sparkling smile. Cassie was a little taller; about a couple inches short of six feet and a figure that would be best described as having a little more padding in the right places. She too had blue eyes and hair that came down to just below her shoulders, only hers was strawberry blonde and done up in a ponytail. Whoever said looks could be deceiving must have seen Cassie as she was a three-sport athlete, playing basketball in the fall, volleyball in the winter and soccer in the spring, and lettered in the first as a reserve forward. Brittany was a cheerleader for most of the year, but was able to find the time to join Cassie on the soccer team, which was one of the best in the state.
"I don't know who you're talking about, Brittany." was the response she got back.
Brittany then stood up and pointed at the young Finn as he was walking back to his table. "Him...the boy with the long blonde hair..."
"Ohhh..." Cassie now knew who she was referring to. "I sit next to him in my history class ...he's that exchange student from Finland...oh, what's his name?" She snapped her fingers a couple times, trying to think of his name...and then she remembered. "Ahh! Vesa Turunen...that's his name...I don't know about you, but I think he's hot." At that comment, Brittany's eyes widened, as if she was about to make the exact same point.
"Tell me about it, if only I hadn't started going out with Tyler, I'd be all over him in an instant!" Brittany looked back over at Vesa as he sat down next to Brenton and David again, then sat down herself and turned back to Cassie. "So I guess it's true about Scandinavian guys...they really are on fire!"
"I can't wait 'til the Jingle Ball," added Cassie, referring to the annual dance held the week before school was to let out for the holidays, "Give me until November and I'll ask him out." The two girls looked up to see Carlina Jarrett, or "CJ" as they called her. Carlina was the resident goth among them, always wearing her black nail polish and lipstick even though her parents and friends, especially Brittany, hated it.
"Hey guys," said Carlina, "who are we drooling over today?"
Cassie giggled at the obviously sarcastic query, then looked up at Carlina as she sat down. "Hi CJ...I think I'm gonna see if that new boy from Finland will ask me out to the Jingle Ball."
"You don't know him well enough yet, Cass," a concerned Carlina told her, "What if he's already going out with another girl? You don't want him to break your heart like Jason did to me...I swear I'm gonna kill him if I get the chance."
"I think someone's jealous..." Brittany sneered in a playful tone as Carlina sat down.
"Go to hell, Britt...I'm happy as it is." She then dropped her backpack on the table and pulled out a couple CD's to hand to Brittany. "I got those Coheed and Cambria bootlegs you wanted...one for you and one for your brother. Tell him to thank me as I know he likes them more than you do." Brittany's brother, Kenny, was a senior and was a member of Breckenridge's pride and joy, playing receiver on offense, safety on defense and was in on almost every special teams play.
The playful jeering turned to smiles and squeals as Brittany took the discs. "Thanks, CJ! I owe ya one, sweetie..."
"Don't mention it...hey, did you guys see last night's episode?" They knew she was referring to the bloodsport that was known as Survival of the Fittest and they could have cared less.
"Why the hell would anyone in their right mind watch that shit?" Cassie responded emphatically, "My dad's too enraptured in the baseball playoffs and my brother had it glued to the Sharks game...ugh." The three girls continued to converse, while Cassie would glance every so often in Vesa's direction, hoping that he'd catch a glimpse of her and make a move...
"Tell you what," said Vesa in a cool, calm tone, "I'll go back over to where I was sitting with my friends and we can forget any of this happened. I'm not in the mood to start any shit right now, and I want to keep it that way." He then took the offered hand and gave it a firm shake, the smile growing on his face. "By the way, my name's Vesa if we should ever meet again....I don't think I've ever met someone new after they threw a lunch tray at me..." Vesa kept his smile and let go of Jack's hand, then turned to walk back to where Brenton and David were sitting, letting him see the number 13 on the back, though his long locks obscured the name. It was the jersey of Teemu Selanne, Vesa's countryman and hero since he could remember liking the sport of hockey, and it was relatively unscathed as well after the tray hit him in the head.
***************
"Oh my God, who is that? Hey Cass, do you know who that is" asked Brittany Clausen to her best friend, Cassie Gaughan. Brittany was relatively short with an athletic build and shoulder-length brunette hair. She had a decent-sized chest, nothing that really stood out like what some of the girls had...just enough to get her noticed without drawing from her sea-blue eyes and sparkling smile. Cassie was a little taller; about a couple inches short of six feet and a figure that would be best described as having a little more padding in the right places. She too had blue eyes and hair that came down to just below her shoulders, only hers was strawberry blonde and done up in a ponytail. Whoever said looks could be deceiving must have seen Cassie as she was a three-sport athlete, playing basketball in the fall, volleyball in the winter and soccer in the spring, and lettered in the first as a reserve forward. Brittany was a cheerleader for most of the year, but was able to find the time to join Cassie on the soccer team, which was one of the best in the state.
"I don't know who you're talking about, Brittany." was the response she got back.
Brittany then stood up and pointed at the young Finn as he was walking back to his table. "Him...the boy with the long blonde hair..."
"Ohhh..." Cassie now knew who she was referring to. "I sit next to him in my history class ...he's that exchange student from Finland...oh, what's his name?" She snapped her fingers a couple times, trying to think of his name...and then she remembered. "Ahh! Vesa Turunen...that's his name...I don't know about you, but I think he's hot." At that comment, Brittany's eyes widened, as if she was about to make the exact same point.
"Tell me about it, if only I hadn't started going out with Tyler, I'd be all over him in an instant!" Brittany looked back over at Vesa as he sat down next to Brenton and David again, then sat down herself and turned back to Cassie. "So I guess it's true about Scandinavian guys...they really are on fire!"
"I can't wait 'til the Jingle Ball," added Cassie, referring to the annual dance held the week before school was to let out for the holidays, "Give me until November and I'll ask him out." The two girls looked up to see Carlina Jarrett, or "CJ" as they called her. Carlina was the resident goth among them, always wearing her black nail polish and lipstick even though her parents and friends, especially Brittany, hated it.
"Hey guys," said Carlina, "who are we drooling over today?"
Cassie giggled at the obviously sarcastic query, then looked up at Carlina as she sat down. "Hi CJ...I think I'm gonna see if that new boy from Finland will ask me out to the Jingle Ball."
"You don't know him well enough yet, Cass," a concerned Carlina told her, "What if he's already going out with another girl? You don't want him to break your heart like Jason did to me...I swear I'm gonna kill him if I get the chance."
"I think someone's jealous..." Brittany sneered in a playful tone as Carlina sat down.
"Go to hell, Britt...I'm happy as it is." She then dropped her backpack on the table and pulled out a couple CD's to hand to Brittany. "I got those Coheed and Cambria bootlegs you wanted...one for you and one for your brother. Tell him to thank me as I know he likes them more than you do." Brittany's brother, Kenny, was a senior and was a member of Breckenridge's pride and joy, playing receiver on offense, safety on defense and was in on almost every special teams play.
The playful jeering turned to smiles and squeals as Brittany took the discs. "Thanks, CJ! I owe ya one, sweetie..."
"Don't mention it...hey, did you guys see last night's episode?" They knew she was referring to the bloodsport that was known as Survival of the Fittest and they could have cared less.
"Why the hell would anyone in their right mind watch that shit?" Cassie responded emphatically, "My dad's too enraptured in the baseball playoffs and my brother had it glued to the Sharks game...ugh." The three girls continued to converse, while Cassie would glance every so often in Vesa's direction, hoping that he'd catch a glimpse of her and make a move...
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler Croco. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
((Mahh... Might as well join in the fun.))
“I sometimes worry about the mind-set of several of our classmates.”
Blue eyes glanced upward from the history homework currently needed to be finished before the end of the day, casting a glance toward the figure that had spoken out, sitting across the small lunch table from him. A figure currently engrossed in today’s paper, licking at his index finger as he flipped the paper moving on to another article. “Why do say that Gregg?” He mused a bit, tapping his pencil blankly against the tabletop.
“Hmm?” Gregg hummed out; taking his eyes off the article he was currently reading to glance off at the group that was slowly dispersing away from what action had been happening moments before. Looking thoughtful as he glanced back toward the other, “I don’t know – simply an observation, know either of them?”
He glanced off from Gregg, eyeing the boys that had seemed to be the center of all the attention, faces where familiar but he didn’t know either of their names… and if they where anything like a some of the kids here – probably had the personality of an empty air can. “No – personally don't care to either.”
“Ever the social butterfly, aren’t you? But…” Gregg said lightly, folding his hands along his lap. “I digress Benjamin.”
Gregg White, one of the leading students in terms of academics in the school, always making observations and reading the news. A horrid little habit of his, always wanting to keep up with the current events in the town where they lived, and in the world itself, blonde hair fixed in the most interesting of spiked manners, a style quite clashing against his personality. Hazel colored eyes usually staring off from behind glasses, though as of late he had been fonder of his contacts, clad in a pair black cargo pants, and collared white shirt, the words "Lucky # Seven" written across the back. He wasn’t a part of any of the school teams, but took fencing in his free time and had actually got quite good at it in the few years he had been taking it. But sighing lightly, Gregg lightly glanced over his paper once more, scanning over it. “So – what do you think about this whole Survival of the Fittest hype that’s going on?”
Friend, and only fellow member of their little group it seemed was Benjamin, though preferred to go by Ben, Row. Somewhat taller than his friend, though shared the same lanky frame, brown haired run through with orange and blond highlights was styled in an almost lazy mohawk, strands of hair falling about, and framing around the rest of his face. Eyes a dull, dark shade of blue, as he pursed his lips thoughtfully, raising a brow at his friend. His Sex Pistols shirt proudly being worn, while he wore a simple pair of blue jeans, Ben on the other hand was only a part of the Baseball team in the spring. Fall was completely dedicated to Band where he played saxophone, though outside was mainly focused on guitar and other such instruments. Leaning back in his chair he kicked his feet up against the table, a look crossing his face as he went over the question in his head. “Personally – At first… I thought it was all fake, you know like all reality shows.” Ben answered lightly, glancing off toward one of the guards standing along side the doorway into the lunchroom. “I started to doubt that when those guys started showing up and the news started making a big fuss about it. What about you?”
“Me?” Gregg mused blinking a bit, smiling lightly as he glanced upward. “Well… I can’t say, not really much to it is there. Horrible little thing that happened, but there isn’t much we can do it seems. It’s almost been ten days since those kids where kidnapped, and almost – if not a hundred of them have died, yet it seems the governments that represents all them have yet to act, I understand the fact that the terrorists could easily kill what is left of them. But still…” He said, fading off a bit, Ben casting another questioning look. “I suppose, like I said before, not much to it, is there?”
“No…” Ben began placing his chair fully against the ground once more, picking up his pencil and looking over the paper before him. “…I suppose there isn’t.” He muttered, tilting his head thoughtfully before sighing. “Who the hell was that German monk guy… one that posted the twelve things to church doors and such?” Benjamin questioned, looking up toward Gregg who had already returned to his paper, not even looking up as he flipped another page.
“Martin Luther.”
“Mm, that sounds right enough.” Ben said, writing down the answer given to him on the paper. Gregg musing a small laugh, as he shook his head,
“It should be more or less, if not – well, it’s not like you have a good grade in that class anyway, right?”
“Hush you.”
“I hear ‘ya.”
“I sometimes worry about the mind-set of several of our classmates.”
Blue eyes glanced upward from the history homework currently needed to be finished before the end of the day, casting a glance toward the figure that had spoken out, sitting across the small lunch table from him. A figure currently engrossed in today’s paper, licking at his index finger as he flipped the paper moving on to another article. “Why do say that Gregg?” He mused a bit, tapping his pencil blankly against the tabletop.
“Hmm?” Gregg hummed out; taking his eyes off the article he was currently reading to glance off at the group that was slowly dispersing away from what action had been happening moments before. Looking thoughtful as he glanced back toward the other, “I don’t know – simply an observation, know either of them?”
He glanced off from Gregg, eyeing the boys that had seemed to be the center of all the attention, faces where familiar but he didn’t know either of their names… and if they where anything like a some of the kids here – probably had the personality of an empty air can. “No – personally don't care to either.”
“Ever the social butterfly, aren’t you? But…” Gregg said lightly, folding his hands along his lap. “I digress Benjamin.”
Gregg White, one of the leading students in terms of academics in the school, always making observations and reading the news. A horrid little habit of his, always wanting to keep up with the current events in the town where they lived, and in the world itself, blonde hair fixed in the most interesting of spiked manners, a style quite clashing against his personality. Hazel colored eyes usually staring off from behind glasses, though as of late he had been fonder of his contacts, clad in a pair black cargo pants, and collared white shirt, the words "Lucky # Seven" written across the back. He wasn’t a part of any of the school teams, but took fencing in his free time and had actually got quite good at it in the few years he had been taking it. But sighing lightly, Gregg lightly glanced over his paper once more, scanning over it. “So – what do you think about this whole Survival of the Fittest hype that’s going on?”
Friend, and only fellow member of their little group it seemed was Benjamin, though preferred to go by Ben, Row. Somewhat taller than his friend, though shared the same lanky frame, brown haired run through with orange and blond highlights was styled in an almost lazy mohawk, strands of hair falling about, and framing around the rest of his face. Eyes a dull, dark shade of blue, as he pursed his lips thoughtfully, raising a brow at his friend. His Sex Pistols shirt proudly being worn, while he wore a simple pair of blue jeans, Ben on the other hand was only a part of the Baseball team in the spring. Fall was completely dedicated to Band where he played saxophone, though outside was mainly focused on guitar and other such instruments. Leaning back in his chair he kicked his feet up against the table, a look crossing his face as he went over the question in his head. “Personally – At first… I thought it was all fake, you know like all reality shows.” Ben answered lightly, glancing off toward one of the guards standing along side the doorway into the lunchroom. “I started to doubt that when those guys started showing up and the news started making a big fuss about it. What about you?”
“Me?” Gregg mused blinking a bit, smiling lightly as he glanced upward. “Well… I can’t say, not really much to it is there. Horrible little thing that happened, but there isn’t much we can do it seems. It’s almost been ten days since those kids where kidnapped, and almost – if not a hundred of them have died, yet it seems the governments that represents all them have yet to act, I understand the fact that the terrorists could easily kill what is left of them. But still…” He said, fading off a bit, Ben casting another questioning look. “I suppose, like I said before, not much to it, is there?”
“No…” Ben began placing his chair fully against the ground once more, picking up his pencil and looking over the paper before him. “…I suppose there isn’t.” He muttered, tilting his head thoughtfully before sighing. “Who the hell was that German monk guy… one that posted the twelve things to church doors and such?” Benjamin questioned, looking up toward Gregg who had already returned to his paper, not even looking up as he flipped another page.
“Martin Luther.”
“Mm, that sounds right enough.” Ben said, writing down the answer given to him on the paper. Gregg musing a small laugh, as he shook his head,
“It should be more or less, if not – well, it’s not like you have a good grade in that class anyway, right?”
“Hush you.”
“I hear ‘ya.”
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the handler riserugu. While this handler hasn't been around in quite a while, should they return and wish to take custody of this account and/or its posts, they are welcome to do so by contacting staff.
The sandwich that had been all but hurled across the lunch room had startled virtually the entire lunch table when it came into contact with Vesa Turunen, and Alex's little clique had all but started in a dumbfounded silence at the events that had next unfolded. However, now cowering underneath the table he was sat at, Finis Ward, an almost painfully awkward student whose messy bright red hair was fashioned in a style that resembled someone sticking their finger in an electrical outlet, was plotting. Finis, a paranoid and jumpy character by nature, not to mention a social flop, had watched in great anticipation as the sandwich flew through the air and clocked poor Vesa square in the head.
The sniveling weasel took that as his cue to jump in on the escapades that were going down in the cafeteria. Smirking to himself, Finis picked up his own lunch tray and slung the contents with all his might. Despite that, and due to Finis's clear lack of strength, the food sailed all of about ten feet across the cafeteria. However, he was close enough that the mess of roast beef, peas, and mashed potatoes sailed through the air and promptly rained down on fellow student Kyle York, who had grown quite silent due to the disturbance at their own table. Kyle's chocolatey brown eyes widened drastically as he was rained down on by the oncoming onslaught of food, and he promptly rose to his feet, glaring around at the students near him.
"Who the hell threw that?" he roared, glaring around at the students sitting at a nearby table.
Meanwhile, Finis had ducked underneath the nearest table, and was all but snickering at Kyle's outburst. While Jack had been trying to deter a heated situation, Finis had a completely different goal in mind. He was simply trying to reek havoc. Peering out at Kyle from behind his thick coke-bottle glasses, he cackled somewhat underneath the table, the mischievious smile still playing on his lips.
Ashley Glosenger, who had all but fallen silent throughout the tense ordeal that had just unfolded, burst into a fit of laughter at the sight of Kyle York's entire back covered in the contents of today's lunch menu. Any other time, he'd want seconds. She continued to laugh at the completely campy remark she'd made inwardly. Kyle, however, was not amused. Grabbing Preston's lunch tray, he hurdled it at the table Finis was located without hesitation, simply aiming to take out someone from the table. Finis's eyes widened as the contents of the food splattered on the table, and all over the students currently occupying it. Quickly hopping to his feet, Finis made a mad dash out from under the table and virtually scurried on all fours for the door. Too little, too late, however.
"FOOD FIGHT!"
The words rang out from some unknown location, and in that instant, food began flying through the air in the cafeteria, landing everywhere like a shower of meat and vegetables. Keirsten shreiked and ducked down, half pulling Alex with her as the contents of someone's tray came hurdling toward them. Meanwhile, Kyle was in the midst of it, all six foot one, two hundred and seventy five pounds of him. Kyle wasn't a little boy, and it wasn't all muscle, either. He made a pretty good target. Then again, so did many of the others who were currently on their feet. Attention was quickly taken off of Kyle, however, as Preston Grey jumped up on top of the table and started kicking the cafeteria issued rolls across the room at the other students, laughing as he did so. Preston was obviously amused by the entire situation.
The guards that had been posted in Breckenridge High School's cafeteria had been stationed in their current positions to ensure the safety of the students. However, all of their military training and tactics could have never prepared them for what had just unfolded in the cafeteria. This was no terrorist attack, no. This was a full-fledged, unadulterated food fight. Many of the guards stood in almost dumb-founded disbelief at the outrageous scene that was unfolding in front of them. Still others ducked for cover as the food came flying their way as well.
(OOC: I couldn't resist... haha.)
The sniveling weasel took that as his cue to jump in on the escapades that were going down in the cafeteria. Smirking to himself, Finis picked up his own lunch tray and slung the contents with all his might. Despite that, and due to Finis's clear lack of strength, the food sailed all of about ten feet across the cafeteria. However, he was close enough that the mess of roast beef, peas, and mashed potatoes sailed through the air and promptly rained down on fellow student Kyle York, who had grown quite silent due to the disturbance at their own table. Kyle's chocolatey brown eyes widened drastically as he was rained down on by the oncoming onslaught of food, and he promptly rose to his feet, glaring around at the students near him.
"Who the hell threw that?" he roared, glaring around at the students sitting at a nearby table.
Meanwhile, Finis had ducked underneath the nearest table, and was all but snickering at Kyle's outburst. While Jack had been trying to deter a heated situation, Finis had a completely different goal in mind. He was simply trying to reek havoc. Peering out at Kyle from behind his thick coke-bottle glasses, he cackled somewhat underneath the table, the mischievious smile still playing on his lips.
Ashley Glosenger, who had all but fallen silent throughout the tense ordeal that had just unfolded, burst into a fit of laughter at the sight of Kyle York's entire back covered in the contents of today's lunch menu. Any other time, he'd want seconds. She continued to laugh at the completely campy remark she'd made inwardly. Kyle, however, was not amused. Grabbing Preston's lunch tray, he hurdled it at the table Finis was located without hesitation, simply aiming to take out someone from the table. Finis's eyes widened as the contents of the food splattered on the table, and all over the students currently occupying it. Quickly hopping to his feet, Finis made a mad dash out from under the table and virtually scurried on all fours for the door. Too little, too late, however.
"FOOD FIGHT!"
The words rang out from some unknown location, and in that instant, food began flying through the air in the cafeteria, landing everywhere like a shower of meat and vegetables. Keirsten shreiked and ducked down, half pulling Alex with her as the contents of someone's tray came hurdling toward them. Meanwhile, Kyle was in the midst of it, all six foot one, two hundred and seventy five pounds of him. Kyle wasn't a little boy, and it wasn't all muscle, either. He made a pretty good target. Then again, so did many of the others who were currently on their feet. Attention was quickly taken off of Kyle, however, as Preston Grey jumped up on top of the table and started kicking the cafeteria issued rolls across the room at the other students, laughing as he did so. Preston was obviously amused by the entire situation.
The guards that had been posted in Breckenridge High School's cafeteria had been stationed in their current positions to ensure the safety of the students. However, all of their military training and tactics could have never prepared them for what had just unfolded in the cafeteria. This was no terrorist attack, no. This was a full-fledged, unadulterated food fight. Many of the guards stood in almost dumb-founded disbelief at the outrageous scene that was unfolding in front of them. Still others ducked for cover as the food came flying their way as well.
(OOC: I couldn't resist... haha.)
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"HUORANPENIKKA!" (Son of a bitch!) growled Vesa as soon as the food started to fly through the cafeteria, quickly finding refuge under the table with Brenton and David, "Ken alku nyt kuluva paska on astuva jotta maksu!" (Whoever started this shit is gonna pay!) Though his command of English rivaled that of someone born into an English-speaking nation, Vesa felt the most comfortable speaking in his native Finnish when things got out of hand. It was a little confusing to many, but he made sure to tell his friends beforehand.
Still, he drew a pair of confused looks. "What the hell did you just say, Vesa?" asked Brenton as he pondered joining the fracas.
"If I find whoever started this," an angered Vesa whispered, though he tried not to show it, "I'll kick their ass, no questions asked." He then made a motion to the sweater he was wearing. "This is an authentic jersey...250 dollars over the Net without shipping. I could give this jersey to Teemu when the Ducks come up to play the Sharks in a couple weeks and..."
"Dude, calm down!" David said, "We'll getcha outta here, then we'll help find the little bastard that started this. I know what Jack did was an accident; he didn't mean to hit you with that sandwich. He was just trying to get those two goons the fuck away from Keirsten." There were only a few kids bigger than Vesa...and at 6-4 and 230 pounds, David Jennings was one of them. Though he didn't play for the school in anything, he was a defenseman for the Foresters, and as their best player, also the team captain. And he remembered Vesa well...in the semifinals of the junior championships, David and the rest of Team USA played against Vesa's Finnish squad. And though the Finns won 5-3 with Vesa sealing the win with an empty-net goal, they had both won the respect of each other as David was on the ice for many of Vesa's shifts. He played him hard and rough, taking his body and keeping him off the scoreboard until the very end. And when he found out that Vesa had come to Redwood City, David was overjoyed and the two became friends immediately.
He was looking around for an opening...and then he got it as he shuffled around to the other side. "Brenton! Vesa! See that table over there..." He pointed to the table where Brittany, Cassie and Carlna were sitting. "Everything's happening on this side of the cafeteria, so if we can make a run for it, we might get there without getting hit. But we'll have to haul ass...ready?"
Brenton nodded. "Ready!"
"I'm ready," replied Vesa.
"Good...on the count of three..." David looked for a break in the food flinging...and got one just as a handful of mashed potatoes hit one of the guards square in the face. "1...2...3!" The three boys took off, using their backpacks as makeshift shields while making a mad dash for the far table. They made it...but not without a casualty as Brenton got hit in the leg with a piece of beef.
"Damn it..." gasped Brenton, "I almost made it..." The three sat down as he smiled at the girls. "Hello ladies..." He then eyed Brittany's lunch and asked if he could have it, then took the tray and got up.
"The hell?!?" Brittany shrieked, though she had already announced she was finished.
"I don't know what that crazy boy's doing," said Vesa in his heavy accent as their eyes turned to Brenton, who had the tray in his left hand, which was his throwing hand.
"HEY!" he shouted, "EAT SOME OF THIS, YOU MOTHERFUCKERS!" Then he heaved the tray into the fray while getting bombarded with peas as if being fired upon with buckshot. Some of the peas got into his mouth, to which he spat out immediately while looking for more ammunition. "Blech...it's no wonder the corn's better..." he muttered. Though he shouted the obscenity as loud as he could, Brenton relished being in the line of fire...even if his only weapons were chunks of meat and mashed potatoes.
Still, he drew a pair of confused looks. "What the hell did you just say, Vesa?" asked Brenton as he pondered joining the fracas.
"If I find whoever started this," an angered Vesa whispered, though he tried not to show it, "I'll kick their ass, no questions asked." He then made a motion to the sweater he was wearing. "This is an authentic jersey...250 dollars over the Net without shipping. I could give this jersey to Teemu when the Ducks come up to play the Sharks in a couple weeks and..."
"Dude, calm down!" David said, "We'll getcha outta here, then we'll help find the little bastard that started this. I know what Jack did was an accident; he didn't mean to hit you with that sandwich. He was just trying to get those two goons the fuck away from Keirsten." There were only a few kids bigger than Vesa...and at 6-4 and 230 pounds, David Jennings was one of them. Though he didn't play for the school in anything, he was a defenseman for the Foresters, and as their best player, also the team captain. And he remembered Vesa well...in the semifinals of the junior championships, David and the rest of Team USA played against Vesa's Finnish squad. And though the Finns won 5-3 with Vesa sealing the win with an empty-net goal, they had both won the respect of each other as David was on the ice for many of Vesa's shifts. He played him hard and rough, taking his body and keeping him off the scoreboard until the very end. And when he found out that Vesa had come to Redwood City, David was overjoyed and the two became friends immediately.
He was looking around for an opening...and then he got it as he shuffled around to the other side. "Brenton! Vesa! See that table over there..." He pointed to the table where Brittany, Cassie and Carlna were sitting. "Everything's happening on this side of the cafeteria, so if we can make a run for it, we might get there without getting hit. But we'll have to haul ass...ready?"
Brenton nodded. "Ready!"
"I'm ready," replied Vesa.
"Good...on the count of three..." David looked for a break in the food flinging...and got one just as a handful of mashed potatoes hit one of the guards square in the face. "1...2...3!" The three boys took off, using their backpacks as makeshift shields while making a mad dash for the far table. They made it...but not without a casualty as Brenton got hit in the leg with a piece of beef.
"Damn it..." gasped Brenton, "I almost made it..." The three sat down as he smiled at the girls. "Hello ladies..." He then eyed Brittany's lunch and asked if he could have it, then took the tray and got up.
"The hell?!?" Brittany shrieked, though she had already announced she was finished.
"I don't know what that crazy boy's doing," said Vesa in his heavy accent as their eyes turned to Brenton, who had the tray in his left hand, which was his throwing hand.
"HEY!" he shouted, "EAT SOME OF THIS, YOU MOTHERFUCKERS!" Then he heaved the tray into the fray while getting bombarded with peas as if being fired upon with buckshot. Some of the peas got into his mouth, to which he spat out immediately while looking for more ammunition. "Blech...it's no wonder the corn's better..." he muttered. Though he shouted the obscenity as loud as he could, Brenton relished being in the line of fire...even if his only weapons were chunks of meat and mashed potatoes.
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