(Umm....Adam would be out of high school by now. So I'm going to let him have a job there while he's taking a year off)

Adam woke up late. The alarm clock had gone off of course, but he had dutifully ignored the beeping until he was on the cusp of being late. The blond man took a deep breath and yawned, and scratched his head, trying to push his hair into place. It was rather useless, but the 'just out of bed' look was in now, and he wore it well he thought with a grin.

He ate a hearty breakfast, he was going to be late for sure, so why not be very late? It did not matter that much, he was just an assistant soccer coach. Most of the day he just ran odd jobs about the school with the maintenance guys. He grabbed his leather jacket and pulled it on over his plain white t-shirt. Keys and wallet were next and finally his helmet.

Adam arrived at school announced by the loud roar of the black softail Harley he rode. Just to be annoying he revved the engine a bit as he pulled in to his spot. He winked at girl - a student who was also late - and was rewarded with a laugh for his effort as the girl blushed, looked down and hurried off.

"I'm here," he said flippantly while tossing his jacket onto the couch that occupied the head soccer coach's office.

"Bout time," the man responded in his 'I do not really care,' voice. "Maintenance needs an extra hand. Talk to Bowman."

Adam nodded and walked out the door. "Don't they always?"

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Heavens no. Hell Yeah.


Set 1: Nurr | Set 2: Me

(Oh.. could that girl be Sandra?)

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(smeag, could Sandra and Clara be rivals? Which makes some sense since they're both in drama)

"Hey, Clara. Clara!"

"I'm the fly in your soup, I'm the pebble in your shoe, I'm the pea...oh sorry," she said, pausing her iPod and wheeling around to find John behind her, his hand halfway between him and her. John, that seedy little kid who acted camp but only to get closer to women. John, whose concept of a personal space existed in the same realm as his brain.

"Was there something you needed?" she asked.

"Yeah, Mrs. Stranka wanted me to tell you that you didn't make it to Singin' in the Rain."

She tilted her head to the side slightly, her eyebrows frowning. "Did she bother say why?"

"No, she just told me to say that."

Her lips pulled to the side as her eyebrows frowned deeper. "Well, thanks," she said in a tone that dripped with sarcasm and played the iPod, basking in the musical talent of Voltaire. She had a nasty feeling that Sandra had gotten the leading role. Then again, happy little musicals were not exactly her type. She got out her history book from the locker and went to the classroom.

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I was cured all right.

(Sure, smeag!)

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Heavens no. Hell Yeah.


Set 1: Nurr | Set 2: Me

(That sounds wonderful, Caunion.)

Sandra was early to school once in a blue moon. Today was not one of those days. With eating breakfast, texting, and doing her make-up in the car while driving, Sandra was lucky to be alive coming to school, being early would make her superwoman. She isn't that good, but she might be close. Parking her buggie in the open parking space she finally found after circling the lot twice. Sandra quickly dosed the car into park, grabbed her supplies from the passenger seat and was out the car heading towards the school, fashionably late.

Indeed, being that her first class was Algebra, she had no problem being fashionably late. Math was the thorn to her rose, the sting to her bee, the death to her reputation. It was a good thing she was only passing with a C, at least that is what she last heard before she bombed the quiz. Probably not passing now.

"Oh my goodness!" Sandra screeched in her head and took a step back in shock. It couldn't be. It can't be. It was. The 19-year-old football jock Adam. The fact that she even saw him would be news that would flutter around school like wildfire. He was hidden away throughout the day, but everyone knew he was there... somewhere. His presence could reverberate throughout the building.

Sandra stood still for a moment went her heart skipped two beats. One beat just wasn't enough for a moment such as this. Oh my. Sandra was speechless. That was all she could think, nonetheless say: Oh my. It happened. Not really sure how. Or if it was true. Probably just a figment of her imagination, but lets just saw it was true because that would be better. He winked.

She blushed and hid her face away in the books. Even though today was normal on her being late, it was the first day in these 3 years... (Sandra being a senior now)... that she was anxious to go to math class, just to spread the news of the phenomenon. She would tweak the details, exalt some parts, dismiss others... but it was going to be heard by each member of the school by the end of the day. Student, teacher, and faculty member alike. Sandra Salter saw Adam LeBeau. Fact.


(Mae, tell me if that is ok. It is a little over dramatized just because that is how Sandra would have seen it. But, confirm that the basic drift about Adam is cool.)

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(Lol! That's fantastic, Smeag! Haha.)

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Heavens no. Hell Yeah.


Set 1: Nurr | Set 2: Me

There was only one thing worse then being early to school: being in science class. It was all Christina could do not to repeatedly tap her pencil on her desk. Was it possible for someone to sit in a class for all this time and still be a loss as to what was being said? She’d about come to the sad observation that she would need to find a tutor or something to give her a hand. If she wished to still have a life outside of her house and school, she needed to pass this class with a good grade.

Chris glanced around the room at her friends. They had the same glaze over their eyes that she did. Was it too much to hope that something would happen and this day would turn interesting?

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(Cadvan's gonna have a year off school as well. He's gonna work at a school too...I just realized. Do all the Characters, apart from mine and Mae's go to the same school or what?)

It took Cadvan a instant to realize that he did not in fact have school today. His University was closed for a year for renovations.

He gave a sigh as he turned around, fingering his crescent moon necklace and headed off to work.

As he arrived at his work place, he went to the gym immediately. The basketball coach grinned at him, and tossed him a basketball.

Cadvan caught, dropping his bag, looking at the coach curiously. The coach nodded, "Pump up the basketballs. Watch out for the Maintanance guys. They got a new helper. LeBeau I think he's called."

The man nodded slowly, understanding, before starting his job.

Clara was busy manipulating her pencil around and around her hands as the history teacher droned and droned. There were few people who could make learning about the past boring and precious few could make wars and revolutions drag like a Charles Dickens. The history teacher, with the saggy double chin, the long monotonic voice, and the too perfect tie, was one of those people. Half of the class was in a stupor, the sycophants vigorously taking notes, and the rest, well, Clara wasn't quite sure nor did she really want to know. In front of her desk was a copy of Neverwhere, which she read when she wasn't staring at the clock or out the window.

"Miss Robson, can you tell me what happened in April 1, 1936?" the teacher said suddenly.

She knew but she didn't feel like answering. "Let me guess, some guy got killed? No, that's not it. A war got started over some stupid dispute of land? I don't know, you tell me. That's your job, right?"

She wasn't quite sure what the reaction of the class would be but she predicted the silence that reigned. The teacher merely glared at her before he droned, "For those who actually paid attention, you would know that Francisco Franco defeated the Republicans in the Spanish Civil War and took power of Spain."

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I was cured all right.

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Just became a college freshman; be on sparingly

Jacob sat, hunched in the back of his chair, trying desperately to keep his eyes open. He hated history, and even though class had only started a couple minutes ago he could already feel his mind fall into a board stupor. Praying to every god he knew for the power to make it though class without falling asleep, he gave a small, silent chuckle as Clara sarcastically answered one of the teacher's many questions. He half expected Mr. Hurson to pop with anger, but his reaction was surprisingly calm. Impressed as Jacob was, he doubted the teacher could keep his temper much longer, since a late student just slipped into class. It was Kvothe. Jacob smiled at him, a greeting between friends, and glanced at him as he took his seat beside him. "Late again?" He whispered out he side of his mouth, just softly enough for Kvothe to hear.

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Just became a college freshman; be on sparingly

Agatha had remained in her spot on the stairwell for quite some time. She was so engrossed in her drawing, her pencil sweeping across the pages quickly and expertly. A dot needed to go there, a dash there, a long elegant line there. No, that one went to far to the left. The mechanical pencil twisted in the air so the earaser ate up the line, and flipped around again to re-make the evidence of it's passing across the white field. It was a battle between the grey graphite and the white paper, and white being the dominate at first, but the grey quickly gained more ground as the page filled up. The draw took shape of a woman standing over a pond, the reflection of the moon distorted in it's rippling water, and in her hand...

Ping Ping Ping

The sound echoed through the nearly empty halls. One minute Agatha had been early to school, then next she was suddenly late to class. In a rush, she flipped her sketchbook closed, leaving her pencil at the page she had been working on, and quickly sprinted to class before she was caught by a teacher of staff patrolling the halls for stragglers.

The suprise of the bell ringing had made adrenaline -oh sweet adrenaline- course through her veins. By the time she arrived at the classroom door, she was trembling as it left her body.

Agatha sighed. History could be interesting, especially the wars, but wasn't always looked forward to. Though this was her first time being late. But to her luck, she wasn't the first. Another boy -the one who sat infront of her- was late as well. And with a short stature, she slipped in behind him, and slid into her seat without the teacher noticing her come in or sit down.

She had to thank the boy infront of her for timing and being taller than her. Two thing he couldn't control, but still. Though she didn't know his name. Wasn't it Kyonne? Keith? Karl? Something that started with a 'K', at least. Oh well, it didn't matter.

The redhead pulled out her sketchbook, and opened again to the page she had been working on in the hall. She started drawing on it again, but made sure not to get so into it as before, making sure to listen to the teacher's monotone droning...

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(}--{)Imagination Inspires Ideas -Zandain(}--{)
Married Cloud Strife 9/17/08

Jacob's grin twisted as Kvothe mentioned his 'rough' night, though he managed to keep the look of sorrow off his face. He knew that pity was the last thing Kvothe wanted. "It never does." Jacob replied, eyeing the teacher to see his reaction. Whether it was because he had more intuition than Jacob thought, or simply because he was too tired to pick a fight, the teacher simply glared at Kvothe and continued to lecture. Jacob turned his gaze to Kvothe, just for a moment, glancing him over quickly, looking for any evidence of what happened last nigh. But, of course the cold-hearted moron left no trace that could be seen. These 'rough nights' seemed to be happening more and more frequently, something that threw Jacob to the edge. Though Jacob didn't make friends that easily, the precious few that had managed to gain his trust he felt a deep, strong urge to protect. He'd like to meet this man (though Jacob thought of him as more beast than human) alone, preferably in a dark alley, where he could beat him bloody, as payment.

Still, Kvothe was unnaturally strong in dealing with this hardship, though Jacob was sometimes uncertain whether he was truly dealing with his problems, or if the whole act was a facade, meant to dismiss unwanted attention.

"You could crash at my place tonight, if you wanted to." He suggested, hoping Kvothe wouldn't be offended by the offer, thinking it was out of pity (though he would have been at least partly right). "My dad's on a buisness trip, and my mom won't mind as long as we're decently quiet. I'll tell her you're over to work on a project."

Maybe if she thought real hard, Chris could get the bell to ring. One second. Two seconds. Three seconds. Nope, nothing happened. Chris could move all sorts of objects with her blasted mind, but she couldn't make the blasted bell ring!

"Ms.Morgan."

Opps, busted. "Yes, sir?" Chris questioned bringing her attention back to the class she was in.

"Can you tell me what happens to light waves when they pass through the window you were staring out of?"

Gulp. "Um," Chris started. She looked around at her friends hoping to find some help. All she found was a bunch of down cast eyes looking very intently at their papers. Thanks guys. "They get....refracted." She guessed.

"You're correct, Ms. Morgan."

She got lucky.

"From now on try and pay attention. Your luck will run out sooner or later."

She was in this class. It already had.

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With her books in hand, Sandra dashed into her math class, the teacher already in full swing. She twirled in a circle before slapping herself down in the nearest empty seat, with her notebook, music notes, and other necessities following her action shortly after on the desk in front of her.

The teacher, Ms. Martin (who used to be Mrs. Martin, but recently gave up that name after a lovely brawl that Sandra might have known more about than both her and her previous husband combined) simply glared at Sandra but returned to her notes, possibly thinking that Sandra would know too much about her personal life to dare question any of the girl's motives.

Sandra was wrong. For, after ending her brief explanation of something Sandra thought of at repulsive and unnecessary, Ms. Martin wrote an example on the board and challenged Sandra to tell her what the answer was.

"Correct me if I am wrong, Ms. Martin, but this is remedial math, is it not?" Sandra looked up at the teacher, plotting a way to get out of the inevitable embarrassment Ms. Martin was about the ensue on her. Waiting just a few moments, Sandra continued, "Do you even understand what remedial really means?"

Not leaving anyone room for rebuttal, nonetheless a breath, Sandra fired her way into her excuse to answer the problem, "It means useless, unnecessary, unimportant, invaluable, worthless, frutile, something you take that you will never use in your life. When are we ever going to have to calculate the area of a triangle or whatever you are trying to do there? (It was actually the relationship between sine, cosine, and tangent.) That's what I thought, never. Therefore, I am going to do something more useful with my time. After all, I don't want to waste any of it."

Ignoring Ms. Martin's looks and movement to her desk to call someone to send Sandra to the principal's office, Sandra turned around to face the class (She, unfortunately, had to sit in the front row because she was late. That is another reason why she didn't ever want to be late again.). "Guess what!" She squealed in the moment of silence between Ms. Martin comprehending what the girl had just told her and going to make Sandra work out the problem anyway. "I saw Adam LeBeau just now in the parking lot. That's right, Adam LeBeau."

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