Morgan grinned at the Fight Club reference. He knew exactly what Alton was going for. "Exactly. Just a mundane presentation, and then less than half-a-second of dicks, or hardcore porn, or something wild. That'd really shake things up."
Not that Morgan would ever actually do anything like that. He was impulsive, sure, but that required commitment to a gag that he wasn't sure he had. There could be no plausible way such a splice would go unnoticed, especially when he handed the assignment in electronically.
Still...
"Honestly, I don't really know." He shrugged and adjusted his lean on the bookshelf so as not to knock any of the reading material through to the other side. "Kinda just the first thing that popped into mind. Powerpoints, bristol boards, whatever."
Furrowing his brow, he looked at his two classmates. It was near-miraculous, he figured, that time was flying past so quickly. There was so much to be done, and yet it seemed overwhelming that there were mere months to go. The passage of time had never been something he'd focused too heavily on, but talking about things like college and graduation were... almost surreal.
"Just a couple of months away, and we'll be all flooding out into the 'great beyond', eh? You guys have any big summer plans before you go away... or stick around, I guess?" He punctuated his phrasing with air quotations, cracking a grin as he did so.
Five Crooked Lines
Open to all
"I don't have any plans yet," Yuki answered, "but most likely, I'll still be around town, looking into colleges."
The "great beyond" was a rather ominous for an analogy to graduation, wasn't it? Yuki prefers the phrase "entering the real world". It sounds more proficient and just as important (also not as scary). Yuki wondered what her sisters had planned for their career choices. Yuko was always into sports, so maybe she'd play for a college team. For which sport? That was Yuko's decision. As for Yuka, she's big on theater work, mostly make up and hair. So she would most likely go into beauty school. Were there any beauty schools in Chattanooga?
Then there was Yuki, the fantasy nerd, who had always wanted to share her stories with the world. She wasn't quite sure how to do that though. She has shared her ideas online, but hardly anyone reads them. She also has book club and her Dungeons and Dragons game sessions to inspire her. But could tabletop game sessions or book club meetings prepare her for a life of writing. Yuki wasn't one hundred percent sure on that. All this self consciousness and self doubt wasn't doing her self confidence any favors, and knew it. Seriously, she needed to talk to her sisters and parents about this.
The "great beyond" was a rather ominous for an analogy to graduation, wasn't it? Yuki prefers the phrase "entering the real world". It sounds more proficient and just as important (also not as scary). Yuki wondered what her sisters had planned for their career choices. Yuko was always into sports, so maybe she'd play for a college team. For which sport? That was Yuko's decision. As for Yuka, she's big on theater work, mostly make up and hair. So she would most likely go into beauty school. Were there any beauty schools in Chattanooga?
Then there was Yuki, the fantasy nerd, who had always wanted to share her stories with the world. She wasn't quite sure how to do that though. She has shared her ideas online, but hardly anyone reads them. She also has book club and her Dungeons and Dragons game sessions to inspire her. But could tabletop game sessions or book club meetings prepare her for a life of writing. Yuki wasn't one hundred percent sure on that. All this self consciousness and self doubt wasn't doing her self confidence any favors, and knew it. Seriously, she needed to talk to her sisters and parents about this.
B018: Ned Jackson- 
G039: Yuki Hayashibara- 
B034: Zachary Beck- -
MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
"I'm thinking of taking a road trip," Alton said. "Head up the coast a little, maybe check out the Big Apple again."
He said nothing about Yuki's lack of plans, both short-term and long. She'd find her path or she wouldn't. He might have to see whether anyone he knew knew either of her sisters particularly well, though. He was intrigued. She was either being non-forthcoming or was in for quite a surprise. He wanted to know which.
"And you?" he asked Morgan. "What comes after the spelunking?"
He said nothing about Yuki's lack of plans, both short-term and long. She'd find her path or she wouldn't. He might have to see whether anyone he knew knew either of her sisters particularly well, though. He was intrigued. She was either being non-forthcoming or was in for quite a surprise. He wanted to know which.
"And you?" he asked Morgan. "What comes after the spelunking?"
Avatar art by the lovely and inimitable Kotorikun
Morgan nodded at Yuki in a knowing agreement at her plan. It sounded a lot like the temporary one that he'd come up with for himself. At least, in this particular cycle around the merry-go-round of life. Shit always changed, no matter what the plan was today, something could pop up tomorrow and knock things completely out of whack. Not that he minded all that much.
"As much I hate to admit it, I'm probably right here with Yuki. Provided none of us fall into any kind of a cave or a chasm and get lost forever, I'll be milling around town just trying not to maim or injure myself too badly before college."
He paused, allowing Alton a smirk.
"That assumes I even know where I'm going, right? Anywhere but here. That's all I've got."
Morgan shrugged, scratching the hair at the back of his neck. Real life. It was aggravating to think about. High school was familiar, but... he just felt like things were in this weird middle-ground planning stage, and he didn't like it. He'd much rather just be doing stuff. He'd rather be at the caves with his friends. He wished he were attending college right now. The waiting? It sucked.
"As much I hate to admit it, I'm probably right here with Yuki. Provided none of us fall into any kind of a cave or a chasm and get lost forever, I'll be milling around town just trying not to maim or injure myself too badly before college."
He paused, allowing Alton a smirk.
"That assumes I even know where I'm going, right? Anywhere but here. That's all I've got."
Morgan shrugged, scratching the hair at the back of his neck. Real life. It was aggravating to think about. High school was familiar, but... he just felt like things were in this weird middle-ground planning stage, and he didn't like it. He'd much rather just be doing stuff. He'd rather be at the caves with his friends. He wished he were attending college right now. The waiting? It sucked.
It was somewhat comforting to know someone else was in a similar situation to Yuki. Who would have thought a mission to find a book would lead to her thinking about her future. Maybe it was a good thing. She had realized she hadn't talked to her parents and siblings about colleges and really should make a plan. As for the book, she'll probably comeback to the library if someone hadn't return it yet.
"Well, thanks for your help," said Yuki, "I think I'll head out after checking with the receptionist. Have a nice day."
Yuki walked over to the reception desk and asked if they had a returned copy of what she was looking for. Figures, they didn't. She waved the two boys goodbye and headed out the door.
(Yuki Hayashibara continued elsewhere...)
"Well, thanks for your help," said Yuki, "I think I'll head out after checking with the receptionist. Have a nice day."
Yuki walked over to the reception desk and asked if they had a returned copy of what she was looking for. Figures, they didn't. She waved the two boys goodbye and headed out the door.
(Yuki Hayashibara continued elsewhere...)
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MurderWeasel
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"Have a great day, Yuki," Alton said, giving the girl a wave as she departed. He watched her make her way over to the desk. Good. Now she'd get what she wanted, maybe even thanks to him, if she hadn't thought of it herself. He was thinking that maybe she actually hadn't, too.
There was this certain sort of person Alton sometimes forgot existed outside of movies, the sort who was really smart on this abstract intellectual level but to such a degree that it could get in the way of interfacing with the practical realities of the rest of the world. He was beginning to suspect maybe Yuki was that sort; set her loose on a calculus test or a fifteen-page essay analyzing some Eighteenth-Century novel in exacting detail and she'd blow it out of the water, but drop her downtown without a GPS and she'd need a search and rescue team to get home.
"Anywhere but here," Alton mused, turning his attention back to Morgan and echoing the boy's words. "Sometimes, knowing what you don't want gets you to what you do."
Of course, Alton also thought that a whole lot of his classmates were all too eager to blame Chattanooga for the mundanity of their lives. As far as he saw it, adventure was more a mentality you cultivated and carried with you, a willingness to act and to dig below the surface. But Morgan didn't need a lecture about that. Morgan was one of the people who would probably agree. His cave venture was exactly the sort of thing Alton thought more of their peers could do with.
There was this certain sort of person Alton sometimes forgot existed outside of movies, the sort who was really smart on this abstract intellectual level but to such a degree that it could get in the way of interfacing with the practical realities of the rest of the world. He was beginning to suspect maybe Yuki was that sort; set her loose on a calculus test or a fifteen-page essay analyzing some Eighteenth-Century novel in exacting detail and she'd blow it out of the water, but drop her downtown without a GPS and she'd need a search and rescue team to get home.
"Anywhere but here," Alton mused, turning his attention back to Morgan and echoing the boy's words. "Sometimes, knowing what you don't want gets you to what you do."
Of course, Alton also thought that a whole lot of his classmates were all too eager to blame Chattanooga for the mundanity of their lives. As far as he saw it, adventure was more a mentality you cultivated and carried with you, a willingness to act and to dig below the surface. But Morgan didn't need a lecture about that. Morgan was one of the people who would probably agree. His cave venture was exactly the sort of thing Alton thought more of their peers could do with.
Avatar art by the lovely and inimitable Kotorikun
Morgan gave Yuki a small wave as she departed, watching her head towards the desk and scurry out of the library. "Later." As she left, he turned back to Alton, and allowed the boy's words to wash over him. Whoa. Alton was a big thinker, and while it wasn't necessarily the most profound thing he'd ever heard, he really had a point. A lot of adolescence seemed to be about figuring out what to cross off the list, rather than what to circle and highlight.
Scratching the back of his neck, Morgan nodded in agreement. "You've got that right. I wish I were one of those people who got lucky, picked up a toy stethoscope when they were a baby and BOOM," he pantomimed an explosion with his hands, "all you want for your entire life is to go to medical school and be a doctor."
Gesturing with his head for Alton to follow, he began to head back towards his table where his textbooks and bag still sat unattended. "Of course, I'm sure a bunch of that is just overbearing parents or a lack of imagination, y'know?" He glanced at the door as he headed back towards the table.
"I can see her being someone kind of like that, actually. Nice girl, but she's gonna find something she wants to do, and it'll be tunnel vision from there on. Like, hey - I'm gonna be an investment banker, and suddenly there's nothing else."
Arriving back at the chair, he shot the library aide a look as she watched him approach, and rolled his eyes, lowering his voice solely so that he wouldn't get bounced from the library, of all places. "At least I've got the area figured out. Science is broad. I could go and find a cure for cancer, or I could mix chemicals for special effects in the movies. Maybe I'll go and invent a new form of cheese?"
He paused, and tapped the back of his chair a few times, studying Alton for a moment. He'd bet money on the boy's agreement with his next thought. In the grand scheme, it was really all that mattered - at least when Morgan was concerned.
"As long as it's fun, right?"
Scratching the back of his neck, Morgan nodded in agreement. "You've got that right. I wish I were one of those people who got lucky, picked up a toy stethoscope when they were a baby and BOOM," he pantomimed an explosion with his hands, "all you want for your entire life is to go to medical school and be a doctor."
Gesturing with his head for Alton to follow, he began to head back towards his table where his textbooks and bag still sat unattended. "Of course, I'm sure a bunch of that is just overbearing parents or a lack of imagination, y'know?" He glanced at the door as he headed back towards the table.
"I can see her being someone kind of like that, actually. Nice girl, but she's gonna find something she wants to do, and it'll be tunnel vision from there on. Like, hey - I'm gonna be an investment banker, and suddenly there's nothing else."
Arriving back at the chair, he shot the library aide a look as she watched him approach, and rolled his eyes, lowering his voice solely so that he wouldn't get bounced from the library, of all places. "At least I've got the area figured out. Science is broad. I could go and find a cure for cancer, or I could mix chemicals for special effects in the movies. Maybe I'll go and invent a new form of cheese?"
He paused, and tapped the back of his chair a few times, studying Alton for a moment. He'd bet money on the boy's agreement with his next thought. In the grand scheme, it was really all that mattered - at least when Morgan was concerned.
"As long as it's fun, right?"
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
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"Yeah," Alton said. He'd tagged along back to the table, allowing himself to be beckoned by Morgan, pacing the boy with long but casual strides. "Fun."
He considered for a moment. Then, having reached a conclusion, he weighed whether or not it was something he wanted to vocalize. Now that it was just him and Morgan, thoughts like those playing in his mind felt more appropriate to express. It wasn't that Yuki was someone who seemed likely to pick a fight with him over some point of ideological disagreement; actually, Alton's suspicions ran the opposite direction. He could easily conjure a world where someone said something wrong and upset her and she didn't breath a word about it, just bottled it up and kept it inside and thought nasty or at least mildly catty things about them. Alton didn't mind a little quiet, simmering resentment here and there, but Yuki wasn't a good candidate for that. She wasn't the sort he'd get anything from upsetting.
"Actually," he said, "I think it's the people who are still deciding who are lucky."
He rolled his shoulders, then rolled them again, but the second motion transformed into a full shrug, palms facing outward towards Morgan. He caught the library assistant's eye as he did so, gave her a smile. Alton's voice was clear but low. He was good at controlling his volume.
"Sure, a dream like that gives you structure, but it can trap you. Focus only on the path ahead, and you'll miss the scenery."
There was some saying about how it was the journey that mattered, not the destination, but Alton couldn't call it to mind, and hadn't he said more or less the same thing already? And there was also a fable, he thought, about an astrologer who was so busy staring at the sky that he failed to notice a hole in front of him and fell into it and became trapped. Then he had to cry for help, and Alton couldn't remember quite what came next. The townspeople gathered around, he thought, and chastised the man for the ignorance he claimed as his wisdom. Then either they helped him out or they pelted him with stones until he died. One of those things. Alton shrugged again.
"And shit happens. What if you can't cut it in your special thing? I'd rather take life as it comes and pick what's best at the moment."
He considered for a moment. Then, having reached a conclusion, he weighed whether or not it was something he wanted to vocalize. Now that it was just him and Morgan, thoughts like those playing in his mind felt more appropriate to express. It wasn't that Yuki was someone who seemed likely to pick a fight with him over some point of ideological disagreement; actually, Alton's suspicions ran the opposite direction. He could easily conjure a world where someone said something wrong and upset her and she didn't breath a word about it, just bottled it up and kept it inside and thought nasty or at least mildly catty things about them. Alton didn't mind a little quiet, simmering resentment here and there, but Yuki wasn't a good candidate for that. She wasn't the sort he'd get anything from upsetting.
"Actually," he said, "I think it's the people who are still deciding who are lucky."
He rolled his shoulders, then rolled them again, but the second motion transformed into a full shrug, palms facing outward towards Morgan. He caught the library assistant's eye as he did so, gave her a smile. Alton's voice was clear but low. He was good at controlling his volume.
"Sure, a dream like that gives you structure, but it can trap you. Focus only on the path ahead, and you'll miss the scenery."
There was some saying about how it was the journey that mattered, not the destination, but Alton couldn't call it to mind, and hadn't he said more or less the same thing already? And there was also a fable, he thought, about an astrologer who was so busy staring at the sky that he failed to notice a hole in front of him and fell into it and became trapped. Then he had to cry for help, and Alton couldn't remember quite what came next. The townspeople gathered around, he thought, and chastised the man for the ignorance he claimed as his wisdom. Then either they helped him out or they pelted him with stones until he died. One of those things. Alton shrugged again.
"And shit happens. What if you can't cut it in your special thing? I'd rather take life as it comes and pick what's best at the moment."
Avatar art by the lovely and inimitable Kotorikun
"Scenery, huh? You're preaching to the choir over here." Morgan pulled the chair out from behind the desk and slid himself into it, giving his books and writing supplies only a tertiary glance. He still suspected that the work he was going to get done on this project on this particular library sojourn had already been completed.
Alton had a point, though. Morgan himself was very much a go-with-the-flow type. Big, multilayered plans were so not his style, and while he understood the importance of having goals, or things that one wanted to work their life towards, his goals all tended to lean more toward the short-term. He was far more interested with what he'd be up to that day, or the next weekend, or even a couple of weeks from now, rather than thinking about years or even decades. He was still young.
Besides, what seemed like the best idea ever right now could always change in the future. Morgan knew that. As much as he wasn't much for long-term planning, he knew that as a human being, he was still very much a work in progress.
"What is it they say nowadays?" Morgan made the move to start packing up his pens and pencils as he spoke. "That the average person has two or three different careers in their lifetime?" Grabbing his knapsack from underneath the desk, he unzipped the larger zipper.
"So why limit yourself to one thing right away, yeah? Like I said. I've got faith enough that I'll figure it out. But if we're all fated to have to switch it up a few times, why put so much stress on choosing one thing?" A textbook found its way into his pack, then a second.
"I'm with you... but it'd be nice to have a concrete idea for at least what that first thing we get to do. That's the tough one."
Throwing the pencil case into his knapsack, he rested it on the table and turned his attention to Alton. While he'd packed his stuff up, the conversation was still interesting, and his body language was clearly in no hurry to vacate the premises. The library aide probably hated that.
"It is kind of neat to think," Morgan glanced around the room at the various students mulling about the library. "Any one of us walking around here could be destined for great things. Fame, fortune... maybe we have a future president?"
He paused, and lowered his voice for effect, though unable to suppress a smirk. "A future serial killer? You never know! Life's funny. Who knows where we'll all end up."
Alton had a point, though. Morgan himself was very much a go-with-the-flow type. Big, multilayered plans were so not his style, and while he understood the importance of having goals, or things that one wanted to work their life towards, his goals all tended to lean more toward the short-term. He was far more interested with what he'd be up to that day, or the next weekend, or even a couple of weeks from now, rather than thinking about years or even decades. He was still young.
Besides, what seemed like the best idea ever right now could always change in the future. Morgan knew that. As much as he wasn't much for long-term planning, he knew that as a human being, he was still very much a work in progress.
"What is it they say nowadays?" Morgan made the move to start packing up his pens and pencils as he spoke. "That the average person has two or three different careers in their lifetime?" Grabbing his knapsack from underneath the desk, he unzipped the larger zipper.
"So why limit yourself to one thing right away, yeah? Like I said. I've got faith enough that I'll figure it out. But if we're all fated to have to switch it up a few times, why put so much stress on choosing one thing?" A textbook found its way into his pack, then a second.
"I'm with you... but it'd be nice to have a concrete idea for at least what that first thing we get to do. That's the tough one."
Throwing the pencil case into his knapsack, he rested it on the table and turned his attention to Alton. While he'd packed his stuff up, the conversation was still interesting, and his body language was clearly in no hurry to vacate the premises. The library aide probably hated that.
"It is kind of neat to think," Morgan glanced around the room at the various students mulling about the library. "Any one of us walking around here could be destined for great things. Fame, fortune... maybe we have a future president?"
He paused, and lowered his voice for effect, though unable to suppress a smirk. "A future serial killer? You never know! Life's funny. Who knows where we'll all end up."
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MurderWeasel
- Posts: 2566
- Joined: Thu Aug 09, 2018 1:37 am
Alton pulled out a chair in turn as Morgan worked on sorting his belongings. He perched on it, feet on the seat, knees up to his chest, elbows on his knees, chin resting lightly on his intertwined hands. He watched Morgan intently, until the boy opened up the discussion to a wider range of focus, and then he surveyed the room. Most of the students in sight right now seemed to be from the lower grades. Alton could put names to some of the faces, could peg a younger sibling of an acquaintance here or there (he shot a wink to Kylie Marin, but she wasn't looking his way), but most of those here didn't occupy his sphere of interest.
Morgan was reflecting Alton's own thoughts, more or less. Of course, he himself could have as many careers as felt like and could slip his way into, be that a hundred or none. He was lucky like that, lucky in the same way he was lucky he didn't have to go to college unless he felt like it. Luck worked in funny ways, and that was something that a lot of his peers didn't really seem to understand, Morgan probably included. Someone here in the library could become president. Someone could become the next Ed Gein. But far more likely, one of them would get hit by a van or slip in the shower or mess up an attempt to get high and end up getting discovered in bed the next morning by their parents, suffocated by their own vomit. Then there'd be a whole announcement about it and counseling in the school for a few days and life would go on.
Alton wasn't too interested in explaining that to Morgan. There were a lot of little things he saw differently from others, and sometimes they made for good conversation but a lot of the time they didn't. And besides, he found the direction the other boy had ventured intriguing enough in its own right, certainly worthy of further exploration.
"These days," Alton said, leaning in with his whole body, chin still perched on his hands, "are those even mutually exclusive?"
He straightened, dropped his feet to the ground and resumed a more normal posture, waving his right hand dismissively.
"Not to get into politics. I'm sick to death of politics."
He had thoughts about politics, of course, but most of them were what he found to be common sense. So much of his class was intent on waging this total culture war, and Alton believed that many of them didn't even really know why. It was that old tribalism, no different from the gangs back in Denton except in its more polite veneer. Social media hatchet jobs and conversational provocations were the middle class version of drive-bys. Alton preferred the relative lack of consequences of the former, but the honesty of the latter. And while there was an appeal in winding others up sometimes, politics was such low-hanging fruit.
He leaned in again, voice much lower now, but not a whisper. Whispers drew attention.
"So," Alton said, "you have any bets? Who's presidential? And who's skinning cats in their basement?"
Morgan was reflecting Alton's own thoughts, more or less. Of course, he himself could have as many careers as felt like and could slip his way into, be that a hundred or none. He was lucky like that, lucky in the same way he was lucky he didn't have to go to college unless he felt like it. Luck worked in funny ways, and that was something that a lot of his peers didn't really seem to understand, Morgan probably included. Someone here in the library could become president. Someone could become the next Ed Gein. But far more likely, one of them would get hit by a van or slip in the shower or mess up an attempt to get high and end up getting discovered in bed the next morning by their parents, suffocated by their own vomit. Then there'd be a whole announcement about it and counseling in the school for a few days and life would go on.
Alton wasn't too interested in explaining that to Morgan. There were a lot of little things he saw differently from others, and sometimes they made for good conversation but a lot of the time they didn't. And besides, he found the direction the other boy had ventured intriguing enough in its own right, certainly worthy of further exploration.
"These days," Alton said, leaning in with his whole body, chin still perched on his hands, "are those even mutually exclusive?"
He straightened, dropped his feet to the ground and resumed a more normal posture, waving his right hand dismissively.
"Not to get into politics. I'm sick to death of politics."
He had thoughts about politics, of course, but most of them were what he found to be common sense. So much of his class was intent on waging this total culture war, and Alton believed that many of them didn't even really know why. It was that old tribalism, no different from the gangs back in Denton except in its more polite veneer. Social media hatchet jobs and conversational provocations were the middle class version of drive-bys. Alton preferred the relative lack of consequences of the former, but the honesty of the latter. And while there was an appeal in winding others up sometimes, politics was such low-hanging fruit.
He leaned in again, voice much lower now, but not a whisper. Whispers drew attention.
"So," Alton said, "you have any bets? Who's presidential? And who's skinning cats in their basement?"
Avatar art by the lovely and inimitable Kotorikun
Morgan couldn't help to catch the smile that slapped itself upon his face as Alton made his point about the current American leader. Arming a finger-gun, he shot Alton with it while he nodded. "Bingo. Truer words." The two concepts were never mutually exclusive, and if certain politically-charged television shows featuring now-disgraced actors were to be believed, the two concepts almost automatically went hand-in-hand.
As Alton cut any potential political conversations off at the head, Morgan couldn't help but be relieved. Politics weren't an area he was too keen on, and as such didn't love discussing. While he was no fan of President Canon, and his parents, as immigrants to the United States, had been in firm opposition to him during the campaign, Morgan hadn't ever really given it too much thought. People made poor decisions in the name of switching things up all the time. That was how some dictatorships had been formed in smaller, third-world countries, or how sometimes you'd see a small-town elect someone just because they were new in town.
He even vaguely recalled a large city in Canada electing a crackhead as their mayor - so hell, everyone was making poor electoral choices, it wasn't just the United States. Of course, their mistake had a lot more power than any of the others, and that was a bummer. Nonetheless, it wasn't a conversation that Morgan wanted to have, and thankfully enough, Alton was on the very same page.
His next query, though, stirred something within Morgan and he again grinned, this time with a mischievous gleam in his eye. Future serial killers? A few people came to mind almost immediately, and Morgan leaned forward a bit, matching Alton's almost-conspiratorial tone.
"Does the entirety of the football team count? They're going to take over the world, if you believe Coach Oppenheimer."
Fidgeting in his seat, Morgan bit the slightly elongated nail on his thumb as he gave the question a more serious thought. "In all seriousness though, have you seen Jeff Greene's moustache? Who has a moustache in 2018? That screams serial killer, all day!"
Terrible facial hair choices notwithstanding, nobody really jumped out at Morgan as being creepy or outwardly murderous enough. "Aside from that, n-", another name jumped out at him just as he was about to vocalize his last thought.
"Actually, you know who probably has a whole stash of dead kittens laying around their basement? Colin McCabe." He shrugged, unsure. "That guy sketches me out something fierce, so it wouldn't shock me; a veritable host of anger problems right there."
Leaning back in his chair, another name appeared within his mind, and before he could think better of it, he nodded his head towards Alton, raising an eyebrow.
"And hey - what about you, Alton? Who's going to win the great Gerow-Lorenzen presidential election of 2040? You might have to fight a Carter or two in mortal combat, but I'd vote for you." Morgan elongated the name synonymous with the fighting game, also causing the volume level of his voice to rise above conspiracy levels. Grimacing, he glanced around. It didn't seem like anyone was listening, so that was good. You never knew who might be listening in the library.
As Alton cut any potential political conversations off at the head, Morgan couldn't help but be relieved. Politics weren't an area he was too keen on, and as such didn't love discussing. While he was no fan of President Canon, and his parents, as immigrants to the United States, had been in firm opposition to him during the campaign, Morgan hadn't ever really given it too much thought. People made poor decisions in the name of switching things up all the time. That was how some dictatorships had been formed in smaller, third-world countries, or how sometimes you'd see a small-town elect someone just because they were new in town.
He even vaguely recalled a large city in Canada electing a crackhead as their mayor - so hell, everyone was making poor electoral choices, it wasn't just the United States. Of course, their mistake had a lot more power than any of the others, and that was a bummer. Nonetheless, it wasn't a conversation that Morgan wanted to have, and thankfully enough, Alton was on the very same page.
His next query, though, stirred something within Morgan and he again grinned, this time with a mischievous gleam in his eye. Future serial killers? A few people came to mind almost immediately, and Morgan leaned forward a bit, matching Alton's almost-conspiratorial tone.
"Does the entirety of the football team count? They're going to take over the world, if you believe Coach Oppenheimer."
Fidgeting in his seat, Morgan bit the slightly elongated nail on his thumb as he gave the question a more serious thought. "In all seriousness though, have you seen Jeff Greene's moustache? Who has a moustache in 2018? That screams serial killer, all day!"
Terrible facial hair choices notwithstanding, nobody really jumped out at Morgan as being creepy or outwardly murderous enough. "Aside from that, n-", another name jumped out at him just as he was about to vocalize his last thought.
"Actually, you know who probably has a whole stash of dead kittens laying around their basement? Colin McCabe." He shrugged, unsure. "That guy sketches me out something fierce, so it wouldn't shock me; a veritable host of anger problems right there."
Leaning back in his chair, another name appeared within his mind, and before he could think better of it, he nodded his head towards Alton, raising an eyebrow.
"And hey - what about you, Alton? Who's going to win the great Gerow-Lorenzen presidential election of 2040? You might have to fight a Carter or two in mortal combat, but I'd vote for you." Morgan elongated the name synonymous with the fighting game, also causing the volume level of his voice to rise above conspiracy levels. Grimacing, he glanced around. It didn't seem like anyone was listening, so that was good. You never knew who might be listening in the library.
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MurderWeasel
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Alton laughed to himself, fully but quietly. The library assistant wasn't looking their way anymore, probably resigned to Morgan's vocal nature. If anyone else was spying, it wasn't too concerning. Nothing uttered in school was really private. That, at least, was the assumption Alton lived by, one he'd come to mostly from the side of the eavesdropped. His caution kept him out of trouble, usually.
"Mustaches say police to me," he said, "or vinyl enthusiast, if they're waxed."
Jeff Greene's mustache was not, to the best of Alton's recollections, waxed. The guy was on the football team, one of those positions that wasn't glamorous enough to get the fame or the girls. There were rumblings about attitude issues. Yes, policeman sounded just about right, but Alton wasn't going to reveal the serious edge behind his joking speculation. That was how he liked to do things, whispers and hints and perpetual deniability. And besides, the football team might not hang out in the library, but people who knew them did. A quick flick of his eyes to check the room with his peripheral vision left him pretty secure that indeed nobody on the team was right nearby. But everyone knew them to some extent, whether they want to or not.
Then again, that didn't concern Alton all that much.
"The football team are big now," he continued, "but that's high school. These are their glory days, except maybe Connor. Someday Wyatt may realize everyone only tolerates him."
Morgan's choices were also interesting in what they revealed about him, his biases and perceptions and area of exposure. Colin McCabe wasn't who would've immediately come to mind for Alton as a pressure cooker, but he could see the guy in a negative light without too much reorientation. Wasn't the guy's mom with a notably younger woman? Alton wasn't going to judge too hard for the age thing, or at all for the sexuality; he'd blow a buddy a kiss and mean nothing by it, and blow a buddy's mom a kiss and mean a little more than he'd ever cop to. And yet, added to the pot of poor social adjustment, he could see things turning strange indeed. Interesting.
So he didn't say anything about Colin.
"For me, I'd be a horrible politician," Alton said. "I'm far too honest and straightforward."
He followed that with a little chuckle, rocking back in his seat. The front legs lifted a millimeter off the ground with the momentum, enough to leave him hanging in suspense for just an instant as to whether he'd topple backwards. He didn't, and the chair touched back down without a sound. He smiled wider.
"You know who doesn't get enough credit?" he continued after a pause. "Reuben Walters. He's like our school superhero. Even has the costume."
"Mustaches say police to me," he said, "or vinyl enthusiast, if they're waxed."
Jeff Greene's mustache was not, to the best of Alton's recollections, waxed. The guy was on the football team, one of those positions that wasn't glamorous enough to get the fame or the girls. There were rumblings about attitude issues. Yes, policeman sounded just about right, but Alton wasn't going to reveal the serious edge behind his joking speculation. That was how he liked to do things, whispers and hints and perpetual deniability. And besides, the football team might not hang out in the library, but people who knew them did. A quick flick of his eyes to check the room with his peripheral vision left him pretty secure that indeed nobody on the team was right nearby. But everyone knew them to some extent, whether they want to or not.
Then again, that didn't concern Alton all that much.
"The football team are big now," he continued, "but that's high school. These are their glory days, except maybe Connor. Someday Wyatt may realize everyone only tolerates him."
Morgan's choices were also interesting in what they revealed about him, his biases and perceptions and area of exposure. Colin McCabe wasn't who would've immediately come to mind for Alton as a pressure cooker, but he could see the guy in a negative light without too much reorientation. Wasn't the guy's mom with a notably younger woman? Alton wasn't going to judge too hard for the age thing, or at all for the sexuality; he'd blow a buddy a kiss and mean nothing by it, and blow a buddy's mom a kiss and mean a little more than he'd ever cop to. And yet, added to the pot of poor social adjustment, he could see things turning strange indeed. Interesting.
So he didn't say anything about Colin.
"For me, I'd be a horrible politician," Alton said. "I'm far too honest and straightforward."
He followed that with a little chuckle, rocking back in his seat. The front legs lifted a millimeter off the ground with the momentum, enough to leave him hanging in suspense for just an instant as to whether he'd topple backwards. He didn't, and the chair touched back down without a sound. He smiled wider.
"You know who doesn't get enough credit?" he continued after a pause. "Reuben Walters. He's like our school superhero. Even has the costume."
Avatar art by the lovely and inimitable Kotorikun
"Right." Morgan pointed in Alton's direction and laughed, a reaction that slipped out but without malice. Honest and straightforward? Of everything Alton said, that was the thing that struck him the funniest. Everybody knew that the politicians were anything but, and while Alton Gerow was generally a straight-shooter, he also navigated social situations with a thoughtful ease. No, if there was one thing that Morgan was sure of, it was that Alton would have made a tremendous student council representative, let alone a future world leader.
Morgan would probably have voted for him - as much as he cared about things like that.
As far as the football team was concerned, Morgan usually gave them a wide berth. He wasn't opposed to socializing with them in a broad group spectrum, but he'd run afoul of a few of them from time to time, usually because he found some girl cute, asked her out, and suddenly Biff Toughguy came running, offended that someone had asked out his girl. Sometimes it ended in a genuine apology, and sometimes it landed Morgan a black eye. Whatever. Stop having a hot girlfriend, then. He was like anyone else when it came to supporting the school - let's go Owls! But a lot of it was all surface.
He couldn't be bothered to give it all that much thought, aside from knowing what was going on for social reasons. Sports just weren't all that interesting for him. There was a part of him that always wondered why the sports kids found themselves to be the cream of the crop in school. Alton had a point, this was likely the pinnacle of their achievement, so why wasn't it the intellectuals and the leaders who were the pick of the litter? Morgan never figured himself to belong to either group, but the question always made him wonder.
What would a school look like at which the band geeks were the alpha; the ruling elite?
He smiled. What a universe that would be. Everyone knew band chicks were freaky.
"You're probably right. Connor probably has enough sense in him to ditch the grunt brothers. If Wyatt Carter isn't working in a car-wash by the time he's twenty-five, I'll eat a hat."
Running down the football team brought him to Alton's next subject of inquiry; Reuben Walters: team mascot. Was he a punching bag, or the puncher of bags? Would he be a killer president or the killer of presidents? Morgan thought about it for a second, and pointed a finger at Alton inquisitively.
"That's a good one. You never can quite put a finger on what ol' Rube is thinking. He's got balls though, you'd never get me in that costume in a million years. Have you ever seen what people do to those poor fucks?" Morgan shrugged. "He's a nice enough guy, but I've got to think that enough whacks over the mascot head are enough to make anyone snap. He falls down solidly under the 'justifiably homicidal' ledger."
Taking another look around the library, Morgan watched all of the students, teachers, and staff go about their business. Everyone was looking for something, or engaged in conversation, or hard at work. Alton and Morgan were in their own little slice, and even if anyone were eavesdropping on them and their selections for prom serial killer, 2018, what did it really matter? He scratched his face absently.
"It's funny, right?" Morgan ran his hands through his hair, leaving his hands intertwined behind his neck. "My parents have to be the only parents ever who never told me that these are the 'best days' of my life. I hear people say that, but like... how is high school the pinnacle? What about university, or college, or even the time after that? That stuff always sounded a lot more interesting than a stupid four years tied up inside of a high school, you know?"
Morgan would probably have voted for him - as much as he cared about things like that.
As far as the football team was concerned, Morgan usually gave them a wide berth. He wasn't opposed to socializing with them in a broad group spectrum, but he'd run afoul of a few of them from time to time, usually because he found some girl cute, asked her out, and suddenly Biff Toughguy came running, offended that someone had asked out his girl. Sometimes it ended in a genuine apology, and sometimes it landed Morgan a black eye. Whatever. Stop having a hot girlfriend, then. He was like anyone else when it came to supporting the school - let's go Owls! But a lot of it was all surface.
He couldn't be bothered to give it all that much thought, aside from knowing what was going on for social reasons. Sports just weren't all that interesting for him. There was a part of him that always wondered why the sports kids found themselves to be the cream of the crop in school. Alton had a point, this was likely the pinnacle of their achievement, so why wasn't it the intellectuals and the leaders who were the pick of the litter? Morgan never figured himself to belong to either group, but the question always made him wonder.
What would a school look like at which the band geeks were the alpha; the ruling elite?
He smiled. What a universe that would be. Everyone knew band chicks were freaky.
"You're probably right. Connor probably has enough sense in him to ditch the grunt brothers. If Wyatt Carter isn't working in a car-wash by the time he's twenty-five, I'll eat a hat."
Running down the football team brought him to Alton's next subject of inquiry; Reuben Walters: team mascot. Was he a punching bag, or the puncher of bags? Would he be a killer president or the killer of presidents? Morgan thought about it for a second, and pointed a finger at Alton inquisitively.
"That's a good one. You never can quite put a finger on what ol' Rube is thinking. He's got balls though, you'd never get me in that costume in a million years. Have you ever seen what people do to those poor fucks?" Morgan shrugged. "He's a nice enough guy, but I've got to think that enough whacks over the mascot head are enough to make anyone snap. He falls down solidly under the 'justifiably homicidal' ledger."
Taking another look around the library, Morgan watched all of the students, teachers, and staff go about their business. Everyone was looking for something, or engaged in conversation, or hard at work. Alton and Morgan were in their own little slice, and even if anyone were eavesdropping on them and their selections for prom serial killer, 2018, what did it really matter? He scratched his face absently.
"It's funny, right?" Morgan ran his hands through his hair, leaving his hands intertwined behind his neck. "My parents have to be the only parents ever who never told me that these are the 'best days' of my life. I hear people say that, but like... how is high school the pinnacle? What about university, or college, or even the time after that? That stuff always sounded a lot more interesting than a stupid four years tied up inside of a high school, you know?"
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MurderWeasel
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Morgan laughed along. Good. Alton was pleasantly impressed. All these people in the library, but he couldn't shake the idea that he was sitting at the most interesting table. He aimed a little wink in Morgan's direction.
"High school is," Alton said in response to his conversational partner's further musing, and then he paused. He'd read somewhere that it was a really good rhetorical trick to prune the "uh, um, like" filler words from your vocabulary and replace them with pauses. To pause made a speaker seemed considered, dramatic, deliberate, even when, as Alton just had, it was actually just covering for speaking before thinking.
"It's alright," he said, and shrugged. "We don't have to worry about money or jobs. We don't have that many real responsibilities. You can't help making friends."
His tone was light, breezy like a sundress on the first day of summer vacation, halfway between sarcastic and bored. What he'd said was true, he thought, more or less. But the thing was, for Alton personally, he didn't anticipate any of that changing. He was lucky. He was in a good personal position, and he just had this vague feeling that his luck would hold and everything would work out for him. He'd had it even back before their break, though not as strongly. And friends? Friends were easy. So Alton didn't think that these would be the best times of his life at all. The older he got, the more his options unfolded and the more he was able to explore and exercise the independence he'd felt for a long time now. He saw it less as growing up than coming into his own.
"At least, that's what I'm told," he said, tone returning to normal. His lips quirked up, causing him to realize he'd gone a little vacant there for a second, but it had been in the spirit of his discourse, so that was fine.
"I prefer freedom," Alton continued. He steepled his fingers before his eyes, then laid his hands on the table in front of him, each fingertip still matched with its opposite number.
This was also true. Better to be responsible for his own choices, to reap the rewards and suffer the consequences without the training wheels that society was so eager to attach to the young. He wasn't at all above abusing the preconceptions and prejudices of others, of course. If he didn't feel like doing homework and knew that Dr. Terrence wouldn't ride him about turning it in late, then he'd turn it in late and pretend he'd forgotten or had poor time management. If he got caught somewhere he wasn't supposed to be, then he'd act like he was just goofing around and slip away with a warning and maybe a call to his Mom, who was unlikely to care.
It worked, but every time he did that sort of thing, it bothered Alton just a little. The feeling that he was getting one over on someone fought with the quiet self-imposed humiliation, and so he strove, where possible, not to have to make such compromises. Sometimes, though, it was worthwhile.
"High school is," Alton said in response to his conversational partner's further musing, and then he paused. He'd read somewhere that it was a really good rhetorical trick to prune the "uh, um, like" filler words from your vocabulary and replace them with pauses. To pause made a speaker seemed considered, dramatic, deliberate, even when, as Alton just had, it was actually just covering for speaking before thinking.
"It's alright," he said, and shrugged. "We don't have to worry about money or jobs. We don't have that many real responsibilities. You can't help making friends."
His tone was light, breezy like a sundress on the first day of summer vacation, halfway between sarcastic and bored. What he'd said was true, he thought, more or less. But the thing was, for Alton personally, he didn't anticipate any of that changing. He was lucky. He was in a good personal position, and he just had this vague feeling that his luck would hold and everything would work out for him. He'd had it even back before their break, though not as strongly. And friends? Friends were easy. So Alton didn't think that these would be the best times of his life at all. The older he got, the more his options unfolded and the more he was able to explore and exercise the independence he'd felt for a long time now. He saw it less as growing up than coming into his own.
"At least, that's what I'm told," he said, tone returning to normal. His lips quirked up, causing him to realize he'd gone a little vacant there for a second, but it had been in the spirit of his discourse, so that was fine.
"I prefer freedom," Alton continued. He steepled his fingers before his eyes, then laid his hands on the table in front of him, each fingertip still matched with its opposite number.
This was also true. Better to be responsible for his own choices, to reap the rewards and suffer the consequences without the training wheels that society was so eager to attach to the young. He wasn't at all above abusing the preconceptions and prejudices of others, of course. If he didn't feel like doing homework and knew that Dr. Terrence wouldn't ride him about turning it in late, then he'd turn it in late and pretend he'd forgotten or had poor time management. If he got caught somewhere he wasn't supposed to be, then he'd act like he was just goofing around and slip away with a warning and maybe a call to his Mom, who was unlikely to care.
It worked, but every time he did that sort of thing, it bothered Alton just a little. The feeling that he was getting one over on someone fought with the quiet self-imposed humiliation, and so he strove, where possible, not to have to make such compromises. Sometimes, though, it was worthwhile.
Avatar art by the lovely and inimitable Kotorikun
As the conversation continued on, Morgan was struck by how his impression of Alton settled more into place, and he realized just how correct he'd been. Even in casual conversation with a peer, he was well-spoken, and projected a confident manner about himself. Words weren't wasted when they came from Alton Gerow, and that was a quality that Morgan himself wished he possessed a little more of. Nobody in their right mind would ever count on Morgan Dragosavich to address a crowded auditorium or emcee a school event, for instance. Hell, his group members in school projects often preferred that he keep his contributions minimal, lest he get off topic.
The feeling only stuck for a moment, but within himself Morgan couldn't help but be slightly jealous of the boy's self-assured nature.
"No, absolutely. Some people even make friends in spite of themselves." He grinned. Whenever his mind went somewhere like that, he focused it upon making a joke or a quip.
"It still amazes me that people actually want to spent time with a walking bald right-wing sausage person."
Another joke at the expense of Wyatt Carter. It was too easy - though he was certain some day he'd say the wrong thing to the wrong person and end up on the wrong end of a beefy, sausage-person fist. Morgan didn't give the cautionary thought a whole lot of time though, there was only a few months left in the school year, and then he'd never have to see any of those losers again. With any luck, of course.
Alton's proclamation caused Morgan to slump back in his seat just a little bit. Freedom had been the rallying cry for people all over the world since the beginning of time. Anyone who was oppressed dreamt of nothing but what it was like to be truly unchained. Was that how Alton felt sitting in a high school library, a predestined schedule in front of him? Doomed to wilt away in another math class; a prisoner of circumstance?
"Fuck yeah, dude." Morgan was reminded of Alton's post-graduation plans. "That the basis for the road trip? Just get in the car and see where the wind takes you?"
There was the jealousy again. For someone who seemed to have it all figured out, Alton reflected like someone who knew what the answers were, but would rather come to them on his own terms instead of having them handed over. He respected that. It was an outside-of-the-box solution to the problem that was life. Sometimes taking a road less travelled paid off - much like Morgan himself hoped this cave project might.
"Bit of a risk, isn't it?" He paused, biting his lip in thought. "My, um, my parents would probably rip my fool head off if I just fucked off for the summer."
He grinned.
"Does sound like a hell of a time though."
The feeling only stuck for a moment, but within himself Morgan couldn't help but be slightly jealous of the boy's self-assured nature.
"No, absolutely. Some people even make friends in spite of themselves." He grinned. Whenever his mind went somewhere like that, he focused it upon making a joke or a quip.
"It still amazes me that people actually want to spent time with a walking bald right-wing sausage person."
Another joke at the expense of Wyatt Carter. It was too easy - though he was certain some day he'd say the wrong thing to the wrong person and end up on the wrong end of a beefy, sausage-person fist. Morgan didn't give the cautionary thought a whole lot of time though, there was only a few months left in the school year, and then he'd never have to see any of those losers again. With any luck, of course.
Alton's proclamation caused Morgan to slump back in his seat just a little bit. Freedom had been the rallying cry for people all over the world since the beginning of time. Anyone who was oppressed dreamt of nothing but what it was like to be truly unchained. Was that how Alton felt sitting in a high school library, a predestined schedule in front of him? Doomed to wilt away in another math class; a prisoner of circumstance?
"Fuck yeah, dude." Morgan was reminded of Alton's post-graduation plans. "That the basis for the road trip? Just get in the car and see where the wind takes you?"
There was the jealousy again. For someone who seemed to have it all figured out, Alton reflected like someone who knew what the answers were, but would rather come to them on his own terms instead of having them handed over. He respected that. It was an outside-of-the-box solution to the problem that was life. Sometimes taking a road less travelled paid off - much like Morgan himself hoped this cave project might.
"Bit of a risk, isn't it?" He paused, biting his lip in thought. "My, um, my parents would probably rip my fool head off if I just fucked off for the summer."
He grinned.
"Does sound like a hell of a time though."