The Party Was Over Then, Too

[ifnotwinter†]

...We'll be landing this raft
on the Other Shore.
We'll be taking that beach
on the Other Shore.

Huh.

Sitting in the middle of the library, hunched over a chair with her bag leaning haphazardly against the legs and trailing its various ties into the aisleway, Juliana Jones chewed thoughtfully on her lip as she stared at the page. The dog-eared book of Leonard Cohen poetry had been sitting on the table where she'd been intending to study biology, and although she'd never been much for poems she'd grown up listening to the Leonard Cohen on the old tape player in the car. Bio could wait, she figured -- she'd just come out of a pop quiz in chem that had been positively painful anyway. She probably deserved the break.

Only twenty-five pages in though, and she wasn't sure what to think. It didn't seem much like the poetry she'd studied, or even much like the songs she'd hummed along to through most of her childhood. It was strange. But in a weird way, she wanted to read more. It poked at her brain, made her want to try harder to understand it and figure out where this strange old man was coming from.

At the same time though, she knew she had to study. Lip still caught firmly between her teeth, she glanced between the book of poetry and the stack of textbooks and binders next to her on the table.

Leonard Cohen or the genitourinary system, that was the question.

[HenchmenF†]

((Michael Joyner, Start))

Michael stepped into the library, both of his hands wrapped around the straps of his backpack as he strolled inside. He had a project due in his English class due in a week that he hadn't started, and rather than waste time at home doing it, Michael decided to skip lunch (something that he's often done in order cut weight for wrestling) and head up to the library. The project itself was easy, just give a short presentation on poetry.

But, goddamn, did Michael hate poetry. Too much of rambling stuff, too many words that he didn't want to look up, concepts he didn't really want to care about. It's not that he didn't like his English class, he just didn't like poetry. With an audible grunt that may have turned some heads as he walked past a few underclassmen huddled at a table nearby, Michael sat down in the middle of the library. Sitting down in his seat for a few moments, not moving, Michael ran his hand through his cropped hair and opened up his backpack. Pulling out the partially destroyed binder he used for his English class, the result of Michael ripping and tearing at the plastic cover with his pen during class, Michael flipped it open to the rubric.

"The students will choose a poet of their choice, write and present a brief biography about their life, and then present a poem written by their chosen poet and explain the meaning of the poem to the class." Michael mumbled aloud as he read. Staring at the rubric again, Michael placed it aside and looked around the library. He could try and find a book of poetry, or maybe ask the librarian if she had any recommendations.

Wait, who was that?

Michael cocked an eyebrow in the direction of the girl sitting in the middle of the library, only a few tables away. Michael tried to remember who she was. Julie...no, no. Julia? No, that wasn't it either. Michael could remember everything else. He had a class with her in Freshmen year. She didn't talk much, and Michael couldn't remember her talking to him at any point. Juliana! Juliana something or other! Michael mentally congratulated himself on remembering her name. Adjusting his glasses, Michael looked over and saw the book in her hands, remembering that she liked to read. Maybe...'eh, fuck it. Worth a shot.

"Psst." Michael said loudly, trying to attract her attention. Nothing. Michael ran his hand through his hair again, repeating "Psst."

Michael heard something from the same group of underclassmen, followed by a small amount of snicker. Turning around in his chair quickly, Michael saw that they had quickly returned to their work. Damn, motherfucking, straight. Turning back around to trying to attract Juliana's attention, Michael tried "Psst." one more time. Didn't work. Time for something drastic. Picking up his folder and tucking it underneath his arm, Michael slung a single strap of his backpack around and walked over to her table.

Sitting down across from her, Michael set his folder down on the table and his backpack down on the floor. Looking at the book she had been reading again, Michael smiled as he saw the title. Poetry, how convenient. Coughing into a closed fist, Michael smiled at Juliana faintly for a few moments.

"Hey, uh, whats up Juliana? What cha' reading there?" Michael asked, leaning across the table in an attempt to catch a glimpse of what she was reading.

[ifnotwinter†]

Juliana could hear someone noisily trying to attract someone else's attention, and she rolled her eyes quietly into her book. Anywhere else that would be just vaguely irritating if it even registered, but this was a library. C'mon people. Even if you'd somehow managed to miss out on that particular bit of school etiquette there were signs everywhere, and if you were hanging out in library you were probably not functionally illiterate. Or possibly you were and just hiding it really stealthily but in that case, wouldn't you notice how everyone else was being completely silent?

Her slightly irritated musings were interrupted as a student settled down across from her. Glancing up she saw that it was Michael something-or-other and that if his words were anything to go by, he'd been the one making noises a moment ago. Great. Sighing quietly, she shoved away the faint swells of irritation that seemed to rise ever more easily these days, and smiled faintly at him instead.

Voice deliberately pitched low, "Leonard Cohen. Uh, Book of Longing. It's pretty cool. Think I like his albums better though." She gave the battered cover a sideways glance. It never failed to seem weird to her, how songs never failed to make more sense than poems despite them being essentially the same thing. There was probably an essay in there somewhere. Heck if she was going to write it though.

"Why, what's up?"

[HenchmenF†]

"Well, uh." Michael said, scratching the back of his head. "You see, I was kinda wondering if you could help me out with something. I need to explain the meaning of a poem, but, uh. I have this condition called being illiterate." Michael said, smiling to show it was a joke. Plus he might as well just be friendly to the person he's trying to con work out of, even if he was a bit upfront about it.

"I was kinda hoping you could help me out with it. You seem to know what you're doing and all. Help a brotha' out?" Michael asked. He was far from pleading, it was more expecting for Juliana to help him out. His question was more a formality for something he already knew what was going to happen. Stretching out behind him in pure boredom, Michael could hear a few tiny cracks as his body reacted to the sudden stretch. Michael made a mental note to crack his back later, but, not now.

Hearing someone enter into the library, Michael turned around to see who it was. Not that he was paranoid about who was walking around, Michael just wanted to know who was walking into his library. Michael didn't know the person. Turning back around in his seat, Michael looked at the book again. Was Leonard Cohen or whatever his face's name related to the guy who did the Cohen show?

[ifnotwinter†]

....well, that was unexpected. It wasn't like Juliana didn't know the guy from Adam, but she could count on one hand the classes she'd had with him since freshman year (or remembered having with him anyway) and the best of her knowledge they'd never really interacted before besides the occasional hello or excuse me. Nothing recently anyway. She didn't figure she had any kind of reputation as the kind of girl likely to help out random strangers anyway -- if someone was really in a bind she'd happily give them a hand, but this sounded a heck of a lot like a guy asking her to do his homework for a class she wasn't even in.

"Um." She closed the book in front of her, discreetly scootching her chair an inch or so backwards. "I guess...I mean, I could lend you the book if you wanted. It's not even mine. I just found it here and it seemed more interesting than diagramming the kidneys. I'm not like...a poetry buff, or anything." What did you call people that were really into poetry? In her experience they were either really moody teenagers or the kinds of older people who liked flowing skirts and tea with weird names and thought that armpit hair was sexy on a woman. "Like I said, I just really like his music."

She was about 99% sure he'd been joking about the illiteracy thing, which mean she really wasn't that interested in helping him. People were responsible for their own work, after all. She didn't get the grades she did by getting other people to do the work or because she was some kind of weird genius or something, she got them because she studied her ass off and didn't bother having a life.

She was getting irritated again. She really needed to work on that. She took a deep steady breath in through her nose. It wasn't the boy's fault he'd caught her in the tail end of a crappy mood, after all.

"If you're really stuck I might be able to help a little bit, but dude...it's your assignment. Pretty sure the whole concept of homework is stuff you do yourself. You know, at home. Or in the library. Alone."

[HenchmenF†]

Michael was a little peeved. Maybe getting her to help wasn't going to be this easy after all. All he needed was something to go by, an answer. It really wasn't that hard, just what the poem meant and how come it meant that. It wasn't rocket science, for fucks sake. Michael didn't show his annoyance on his face, however, instead he just leaned forward on the table; placing his arms down and giving a faint smile to the girl sitting across from him.

"You see, the thing that this isn't homework. It's a project, right? Group thing, and you're apart of my group. Trust me, it'd be great." Michael said, although he wanted to add that if she didn't help her he would beat her ass. Not really though. Well, maybe. Probably not, but, 'eh. Depends on what happens. If she swung first? Hell yes he would.

"Besides, it's not like you have to do a whole lot. Just tell me the meaning of a poem and I'll be out of your hair." Michael contiuned with his explanation on why she should help him, having been hit with a sudden burst of inspiration. " I mean, what else are you going to do? This an opportunity to show off what you know, gurl." Michael said, adopting a slight ebonics tone at the end.

Michael leaned back in his seat, running his hands through his hair again. If this contiuned any longer, it would just easier to go get if from somebody else than Juliana. Besides, lunch was going to end soon and he had class on the other side of the building. Michael didn't exactly want to sprint through the halls of the school in order to avoid being late to class. Last time he broke into a dead sprint he ended up knocking some freshmen over in the hallway. When a teacher asked what happened, needless to say, it was hard convincing the teacher that it was actually an accident and not a form of bullying.

[ifnotwinter†]

"Are you high?"

Juliana stared at the boy across from her in genuine confusion, unable to entirely believe what she was hearing. What kind of person just...accosted random girls from their class in the library to try and get them to do English homework? The whole conversation felt suddenly surreal and she scooted her chair another couple of inches away while trying to figure out how the hell to respond to him.

She kept her voice low out of deference to the students who were actually studying and doing their own work, but it wasn't hard to hear the strangled tone that was half incredulity and half irritation. "Okay, first thing? I am not even in your class. And even if I was and this whole poetry thing actually was a group project -- which I doubt -- you still have to do your own work. But none of that matters because I? I am not a part of your 'group'."

She leaned forwards, glaring in earnest now. "And I am sure as hell not helping you cheat, so you can just scoot. Go Google 'poetry meanings' or something instead of trying to get some girl to your work for you."

God, she hated people like that. She knew how bad it sucked to not understand the work you had to do and be running out of time, but that was when you just sucked up your pride and went to the teacher for extra help. Or, fuck, just go to a friend! It wasn't that hard to figure out ways around your situation that didn't involve...whatever this was.

[HenchmenF†]

Michael could hear the snickers of the underclassmen nearby as they heard Juliana give him the news that she....didn't exactly want to help him. Michael, for a brief moment, felt transported back to middle school and all of those goddamn snickers. For a another brief moment, Michael felt consumed with rage. Juliana, although she didn't exactly embarrass him in front of a whole group of people, just made him mad. At the same time, however, Michael realized on why Juliana did it. Michael sure as hell wouldn't do someone's project for them. Maybe an answer or two, but, not a project.

Returning Julina's glare the entire time, Michael slowly bit his lower lip as his gaze shifted from Juliana to the clock above her. He could give off some witty retort, make her feel bad and etc. If she was a guy, he'd just would have smacked him by now. But, that just doesn't fly with females. Instead, Michael gave Julina a smarmy smile as he grabbed his folder and stuffed it inside of his backpack. Slamming the backpack (with enough force that the noise managed to make even the librarian jump a little bit) on the table in front of Juliana, Michael gave her a quick thumps up instead of the middle finger he wanted to give her.

"You have a good day now." Michael said, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and leaving. As he walked past the table of underclassmen, they were dead silent until he passed them until they began snickering again. All it took was Michael turning around to shut them up. With that, Michael left the library and headed to his class before the bell rang and he'd been late again.

"Fat bitch anyway." Michael muttered under neath his breath as he walked the empty hallways, heading to class.

((Michael Joyner, out.))

[MurderWeasel]

((Steven Salazar continued from The best way to establish a character is with a one-shot in the neighborhood, right?))

Steven had been in the library for a while, poking through the books, searching for a Hunter S. Thompson collection. Apparently, whoever had taken an interest in the book hadn't bothered to re-shelf it properly. It wasn't a huge deal. He'd find it, or he'd go and buy a copy somewhere down the line. There was another reason to lurk the shelves. The library was a good place to learn things, and not just from the books. People often strayed outside their social circles here. The library was often occupied by groups of relative-strangers forced to collaborate on projects. There were all sorts of interesting conversations to overhear, and Mrs. Garvey was always good for a chat about books, even if she was much better-read than Steven.

Today, Steven was hunting for a very specific occurrence. Prom was coming up, and a lot of the school was scrambling for dates. At the same time, Steven was stalking news. He'd spotted the Prom trail, and he was closing in for the kill. What he wanted was to witness someone asking for a date. At that point, he'd be able to get into good position to request an interview, just as soon as the celebration was done. Or, well, if whoever it was got rejected, that might be even better for the story, though Steven did not like seeing people disappointed.

The library seemed like a good place to wait precisely because, on the whole, it seemed like a pretty bad place to ask someone to Prom. Stories were not made of normal, unexciting events. What grasped attention was surprise, unpredictability, and at least the specter of impending disaster. Anyone who was asked out here was sure to be surprised, and any event of the sort was sure to become the center of attention, the moment's spectacle.

Of course, Steven had learned a long time ago that the story one found was rarely the story one went out looking for. The first hint that something was off was the whispers. Steven couldn't make out what was being said, but there was an edge to them, a touch of sharpness. He peered around the end of the rack, saw that a slightly heavyset girl with curly brown hair who had been sitting alone, reading peacefully just moments before (Juliana, his mind supplied, though he couldn't attach any clubs to her off the top of his head) was now facing a bespectacled boy with dirty blond hair (Michael, he knew Michael from the wrestling team, had seen him compete a few times). It appeared there was some tension there.

Before Steven could get any closer or really figure out what was transpiring, Michael stood, grabbed his things, and loudly slammed his backpack down on the table. Steven jerked reflexively, along with probably half the other people in the library. He then flashed an incongruous thumbs up, wished Juliana a nice day, and slipped out. A bunch of underclassmen chuckled at the whole exchange.

This smelled like a story. Granted, it smelled like a story Steven wanted to hear but would never be able to put to paper, much less publish, but he was curious. He liked to know what his classmates were up to, and something unusual had just happened.

So he made his way straight over to the table, smiling in as friendly a manner as he could.

"Hey, Juliana," he said as he reached the table. He kept his voice down, at a library appropriate level. "You okay? Mike looked kinda pissed."

[ifnotwinter†]

The bag hitting the table made Juliana jerk reflexively, setting her heart to racing as for just the barest instant she wondered if the boy would actually be stupid enough to pick a fight in the middle of the library. Apparently he wasn't, though...instead he wished her a completely false good day, gave her a thumbs up, and slunk out to the sound of muffled laughter from those who'd been watching.

Well, that was about the weirdest fucking thing. Juliana shook her head as her heartbeat eased and the familiar edges of panic that had begun to nibble at her mind returned peacefully to their hiding place. Some people. She'd never understand them, and if she even bothered to try she'd spend all day at it. She might as well just finish up a couple more poems and then head to bio early in an attempt to get a little extra help on her homework. Not, for the record, from any innocently-reading lady who just happened to be sitting around. From the teacher. The way things were supposed to go.

Before she could turn back to her book, however, her attention was caught by the slight boy making his way towards her. It was Steven, she thought, Steven Salazar. They had a couple classes together. He was a pretty cool guy although she'd never really been close to him. He'd obviously noticed the little spot of drama, and she winced as he reached her.

"Hey, Steven. It's cool, I got it under control. Mike just figured I was an easy target for a spot of "do my homework for me, wench"." A wry grin belied whatever irritation still remained in the words, and she jerked her head at the chair Michael had so recently vacated. "Settle down, if you want. Don't know if I'm really feeling the poetry vibe anymore."

[MurderWeasel]

"Thanks," Steven said, nodding and taking the seat. He set his backpack down on the floor next to him, very consciously making sure it settled down lightly. It wasn't just that he didn't want to repeat Michael's performance; Steven also had his camera and sound recorders packed away in there. He tried to avoid jostling them whenever possible; they were of sturdy construction, but there was no reason to tempt fate.

Juliana had said that Michael had been trying to coerce her into doing his homework. Steven filed that tidbit away in his mind, but didn't dwell on it. If that had really been what that all had been about, well, no point focusing on it too much. Michael had left. Things were returning to normal. Juliana was okay. It had just been a little bout of, well, something Steven didn't understand.

"Too bad that happened," Steven said. It was a bit of a substitution. He'd nearly apologized for the incident, but he didn't feel like even implicitly accepting so much as a fraction of Michael's blame. Instead, he added a bit more, trying to keep his chain of conversation logical. "Nothing like a bit of meaningless conflict to put you right off a book."

He paused for a second, then added, "He doesn't bug you often, does he? I mean, if this is harassment, I'd be glad to talk to Mrs. Garvey with you."

He hoped it didn't come to that. Michael had seemed like a nice enough boy when Steven had checked out the wrestling team. In all likelihood, he suffered from a bit of a temper, and oh could Steven relate to that. He believed very strongly, though, that a short temper didn't release one from responsibility. That was why it was very, very important to never get angry at anyone who didn't actually have it coming.

[ifnotwinter†]

Juliana shook her head firmly, sliding the book of Cohen poetry away from her. "No no, nothing like that. I don't think I've even talked to him in -- oh, god, I don't know. A few months? Longer? I honestly think he just saw me reading and figured I was as good a shot as any. Maybe he's allergic to poetry." She smiled at the other boy, genuine warmth showing on her face. "Thanks though."

It was always nice to see people actually looking out for others in the world. All too often it seemed that people shuffled around under a shield of "not my problem" and didn't bother interfering. Which wasn't always a bad thing, to be fair, but there were some situations which called for a little more involvement and while her own hadn't gotten that far (and she'd learned in recent years how to care for herself, and use that sharp tongue to maximum advantage) it was still pretty cool that Steven had been keeping the situation in mind.

"I wasn't even that into the book. It's good, don't get me wrong, I just...dunno, feel like maybe it's meant for higher brains." She eyed the cover thoughtfully. "People who can get six different meanings out of a sentence and get all hot for mixed metaphor, y'know?" She shrugged. "Anyway, what brings you to the library? Because if it's the genitourinary system I've got a bit of "do my homework for me, wench" for you."

[MurderWeasel]

It turned out that Michael had decided to go after Juliana at complete random, rather than due to any specific malice or ongoing feud. Steven was, in a strange way, glad to hear that. It made Michael a sporadic jerk rather than a complete asshole. He'd still have to keep his eyes on the boy. A short temper combined with some wrestling moves could make for a very problematic combination, assuming this was more than a single bad day.

That was all fodder for the future. At present, Juliana was still talking, explaining that the book was good but a bit over her head. Steven could relate to that. He felt the same way with many of the classics they read in English. Yeah, some of what he read for personal amusement was complicated in its own right, but in a very different way from the works he was assigned.

Ah well. At least Juliana seemed happy now. She even cracked a joke.

"You know," Steven said, "I'm not even sure what that is. I mean, it sounds like something I've got way inside, probably producing chemicals that keep me alive or something, but I figure if it's working right, no need to worry, you know? I mean, if you want, I can give your homework a go. I figure it doesn't count as cheating if I've guaranteed to be detrimental to your grade."

He flashed Juliana a bright smile, just to make sure she knew he was kidding. Then he continued on, answering her question.

"Nah, the reason I'm really here is I thought this could be some secret teeming hotbed of Prom activity. I'm with the paper, writing some stuff on the biggest night of our high school lives, and wouldn't you know, some days there just aren't any dramatic date proposals to spy on."

[ifnotwinter†]

Juliana laughed as Steven offered to do her homework for her, shaking her head wryly. "Thanks, but no thanks." The grin remained on her face even as he offered his real reason for coming to the library. She liked Steven. He'd never stood out much to her -- she had some vague idea he was on a school team...was it wrestling? -- but even in the background of her consciousness he'd always seemed like a nice person. What her mother would call a Nice Person anyway, pronouncing the capitals with some effort. It just went to show that high school wasn't quite as isolating as some people thought.

She wrinkled her nose at the mention of prom though. "Biggest night? Y'really think so? I mean, personally I can think of more meaning than wearing dresses that cost six month's wages and someone inevitably getting totally wasted and starting a fight. But yeah, dates. That's cool. I guess." Although her tone was skeptical she wasn't judging Steven so much as she was judging the act of prom. Hey, the guy could cover whatever he wanted for the paper. Even if it was a tradition that defied her comprehension.

"If you're looking for a great date story though, I got nothing. Maybe in the science wing? The scent of formaldehyde in the air just makes those grads crazy." Her lopsided smile made it clear that she wasn't particularly serious.

[MurderWeasel]

It seemed like Juliana wasn't so hot on Prom. That made Steven feel a bit better about his own personal feelings on the event. Thus far, he was mostly making fun of it in his writings. There was more than a little humor in his choice to look for a date in the making in a highly unromantic spot. Steven wasn't really expecting to have anyone to accompany him to the event. He was only going because it would be good fodder for his writing. Well, there was the slightest little bit of sentiment, this hint of suspicion that he would regret missing the dance, but that wasn't his primary interest.

Juliana did a nice job of picking out things that would make Prom less than ideal. In fact, her opinion was very interesting on the whole. She had a good sense of humor, a nice edge to her words. Steven could feel himself sizing up what she said, trying to think how her phrases would do as quotes.

He laughed when she gave her little quip about the science wing. Yeah, that settled it. Juliana was someone worth talking to. She was fun, lively, entertaining. Perhaps coming to the library had been a worthwhile choice for his column after all, and, hey, even if Juliana had no interest, she was a good person to know. Steven liked her quite a bit.

"Hey," he said, smiling. "How would you like to be in the paper? Honestly, your feelings about Prom are a lot more interesting than some big faux-romantic bit of nonsense. Especially if everyone's strung out on strange chemicals."