"Operation: Escape Assembly" ~ By Allora Atwater
A/N: Another sad attempt at humor! A little background info: my friends and I are bored to death at a school pep rally that lasts around an hour and half, precious time indeed, so we decide to devise a clever plan to *drumroll* DITCH! Of course, our attempts are continuously foiled by the school's vicious security guards who seem to lurk behind every bush! So basically, this is a little tale of two troublemakers in a sort of alternate-universe that decide they'd rather veg-out at home than sit through 80 minutes of non-stop school spirit! By the way, for readers of my series "Whatever the Cat Drags In", I'll be posting the epilogue SOON! I promise! So check back often!
Disclaimer: Although based on a true story, none of the characters belong to me. Please don't sue. If these are the kinds of activities I engage in at school, do you honestly think I could handle being in a courtroom?
The Balamb Garden marching band strolls along uniformly down the football field, the cheerleaders performing a giddy little dance as the varsity soccer teams show off their so-called "mad skill". The stands are packed with students, most of them falling asleep in their seats at the Garden's snazzy display of school spirit.
Of course, there is a small area on the bleachers that is sectioned off for the "problem students". Sadly enough, I happen to be the only one in that secluded stand that was still awake. Damn peppy cheerleaders and their cursed brass lungs; if not for the head honcho of the bunch who's merrily shouting into the megaphone shoved up her mouth, I might be able to catch a few winks before school gets out. But no, life is never nice to Seifer when it really counts. Hmph.
Maybe I should start building up my good karma points while I still can, I muse. I stop, noting the absurdity of my thoughts. What am I thinking? I'm Seifer Almasy, I don't get out of a bad situation by being good, I get out of a bad situation by making it worse and running away when the going gets tough! I grin to myself, my natural bravado coming through just when I need it most.
The captain of the boys' varsity soccer team steps out in the middle of the field, taking hold of the mic and looking around at everyone up in the stands. He's blond, his hair close-cropped and spiky, an arrogant sneer on his face.
"Well, what can I say? The Balamb Garden varsity soccer team has had an awesome season. We've whooped ass on all those other ghetto schools. We have to play a few more next week before the season ends… we'll probably win those too."
I could so kick this guy's ass. I think lazily, entertaining vivid ideas on how I could pummel the over-confident jock. I could kick his ass with one hand tied behind my back. I could do it blindfolded. And I bet I could single-handedly wipe out all of his damn straightedge soccer buddies too.
"Anyways," the idiot continues, unfazed by the crowd's nonchalant reaction. "I have a joke for you guys. Okay - you ready for this? Why don't women ever get their watches fixed?" He pauses, holding the mic out to anyone who might have an answer. He is greeted with silence. "Why? Cause there's a perfectly good watch over the stove!"
He looks like he's expecting the audience to burst into uncontrollable laughter at his sexist pun. The crowd remains dead silent, several whispers rolling through the students like a tide. Someone yells out, "You suck!" I absently make a mental note to seek out the owner of that brilliant comment and personally pat him on the back; another Seifer Almasy in the making. If only the world could be so lucky.
I stretch out my long legs and casually survey the scene. Quistis, the Instructor in charge of watching the "troublemakers", is dozing off, head in hand and eyes glazed over. Perfect, I sneer. I can sneak my way over to the railing and hop the fence to building A… and then I could manage to get past the chorus hall and out the doors into the parking lot. But that's where the real problem is. Security out there is really tight. I need someone to back me, someone who I can throw at the guards as bait while I make my escape.
As though fate chose that moment to smile down upon my undeserving soul, an infuriated Instructor was leading a pokey-headed blond by the arm.
"…and you can stay here until you learn how to solve your disputes without physically assaulting the other person!"
Zell sits down a row below me, kicking at the metal stands and folding his arms across his chest.
"Hey Chickenwuss, keep it down or you'll wake the Instructor from her much-needed beauty rest!" I hiss, sliding down a row to sit next to the volatile young man in question.
"Who you callin' Chickenwuss you son of a bitch?!" his anger flares up another notch. Just as Zell's voice rose, so did the percussion on the field, each drumroll blaring at insanely abusive decibel levels.
"Ah, God, my virgin ears!"
"Shut up punk, I have a plan to get our asses outta here." I tap my fingers together repeatedly, a questionably insane look in my eyes.
"Why would I wanna have anything do to with a pansy like you Seifer?" Zell asks, annoyed.
"Cause it could get us both out of this godforsaken hell hole."
You see, I've had plenty of time to consider my options, considering there are very few options available. I draw the conclusion that, were we to get caught, Zell would be the perfect scapegoat. He's certainly dumb enough to throw himself in the line of fire, and if I sweeten the deal with a small bribe of say, a dozen hot dogs, he will be unable to resist. But I have to play my cards right; if I end up pissing him off too bad, it might result in me having to go it alone. Which would be hazardous to my permanent record.
I nearly sigh in relief; his interest is piqued, if nothing else.
"Go on Almasy." He leans back and I prepare to completely bullshit the naïve little bastard. Hopefully he's as gullible as I remember him to be.
"Alright, alright, listen up. And keep your goddamn voice down, the last thing we need is this wench" - I jerk my thumb at Quistis - "waking up and busting the two of us. So here's my plan: now that everyone is practically asleep on their feet, we're gonna slide over to the railing and hop that fence over there. I'll give you directions from there. Are ya with me?"
"I dunno…" Zell gives me a critical eye.
"Fine you idiot, I'll do it by myself, I ain't a Chickenwuss like you."
Rule number 1 in Seifer's book of mind control, never look like you're desperate for help. In fact, when possible, make it seem like you don't even want help. And of course, be sure to demean the other person so they feel obligated to prove they aren't a Chickenwuss. Works like a charm, trust me.
"You bastard! You know you need my help!" he growls. Hook, line, and sinker. What did I tell ya?
"Alright. Let's move." We slither up to the top bench and from there, we sprint in crouch position. I notice something flying to the left side of my head, and then to the right; my knees nonetheless. Maybe I'm crouched a tad too low. I check over my shoulder to make sure Chickenwuss hasn't copped out on me.
"Get your ass outta my face and move Seifer!" he snarls. Good, he's in it for real.
We make it to the railing and I throw a leg over cautiously, careful not to damage anything if you know what I mean. Now it's just a matter of climbing down this 30-foot fence. I carefully find a foothold and use my arms to work my way down. I look up at Zell, who seems like he's about to take the quicker route. He folds his hands to the sky in prayer, and then plummets down to the ground, feet first.
"Ahhhhhgghh…" I hear his faint groan. Oh well, as long as no damage is done to me, the plan is working out perfectly. I let go at the last five feet and land neatly.
"Get your ass up." I nudge Zell with the toe of my boot. "You're not gonna dodge security with a half-ass sneak-job like that."
He looks like he's ready to sock me in the face with my own shoes, but holds back, surprisingly. That's all fine and good; he's going to be a vital part of the operation very shortly. We race into the Performing Arts building and make sure no one sees us enter.
"Alright," I bark. "Just walk casually down the halls, like you're supposed to be here. There shouldn't be any teachers around, but you never know who might be lurking in these halls, so watch your back." God, Seifer you are a genius.
"Okie dokie," he tries to reassure himself. "I'm supposed to be here. I come here all the time. In fact, I know these halls like the back of my hand."
"Just shut up and keep your cool." We stroll down the hall, passing by the food lab, the design and apparel room, and the art classes before reaching a fork in the road.
"Left." I mutter, and we turn into the chorus hall. It's like walking into a living nightmare of shrieking lobsters. The sound is almost as grating as the marching band, but at least those punks have talent. I just hope this isn't the AP class, otherwise we have yet to be bombarded with a flock of wailing half-dead seagulls around wintertime. Ah yes, and there were the double doors of redemption. The light at the end of the tunnel.
"Okay." We halt at the doors and I point outside. "Nick has the day off, but Walt is patrolling the perimeter. Bobby is stationed out front. They may not seem like much of a threat, and we can easily out run em, but those are some tough motherfuckers. Try and steer clear if you can."
Another important lesson in the game of life; know your enemies. I cannot stress this enough. I've learned that knowing who's out to get in your way and how they are capable of preventing you from reaching your goals is a priceless piece of info. Currently, we only have one guard to worry about. For some reason, they think that kids are less likely to ditch during an assembly. Another reason why we can constantly outsmart adults; they're under the assumption that rules and discipline can shape up any bad seed, which is completely false. It only makes us more deceptive, and makes them more susceptible to our schemes.
We weren't home free just yet though; although it was two against one, the odds were not in our favor. Walt is nothing short of a giant, a very big, mean, scary giant who could easily take us both out before the average Joe could say "Ow." Yeah, that's how improbable the chance of survival is. I shake my head and sigh. Y'know, it's a shame I couldn't have prevented this. Wait, no it's not.
"Are we just gonna stand here all day and admire the stucco on the walls or are we gonna get outta here?" Zell yells, impatient as always. It's almost sickening to be reminded of the imbeciles I share this planet with. To think, I breathe the same air as this dipshit.
"Uh huh, and I know just the way to do it!" I shove him out the door with as much force as I feel like putting into it. All this thinking is making me kinda tired. Walt immediately notices Zell and comes hauling ass after us. I don't wait for Zell as I bolt down the sidewalk.
"Hey!" Zell calls out, getting to his feet. "You asshole! Get back here!"
That comment proves how stupid our friend Zell truly is. No fool in his right mind would actually tell his mortal enemy to turn back. That's like saying "Hey Seifer, come here so I can kick your ass." So of course I don't even toss a glance behind me. I know he's following anyways. Walt is coming after us, that beer gut of his slowing him down considerably. Thank God for the gift of youth.
I hustle around the corner, considering the idea of finding my car and driving my ass outta here. Of course, that would steal precious time that I oh-so-desperately require, seeing as I can't even remember where I parked. I just keep going, the blessed sight of a street ahead of me.
"Yo Seifer!" I hear Zell behind me. "Get your ass in gear, Walt is radioing in to Bobby out front!"
Well, shit. There goes the neighborhood. Bobby doesn't pose much of a threat either. Those short little legs of his couldn't carry him across campus fast enough to catch a sleeping tortoise. I just keep focused on the street ahead, knowing that if I can make it across, I truly am a demi-god. And then I can go to the Qwicky-mart and celebrate my victory with a blueberry Slushee. Of course Zell will act as the sacrificial lamb once more, but that don't affect me none. It's just Zell after all. I'm sure he's survived worse, and if not, there's always a first for everything.
Out of the corner of my eye, Bobby is hurtling himself towards me, and Walt is managing to zero-in on Chickenwuss. Now, the logical part of my brain tells me that this indeed calls for a collision, one that is likely to be very painful and detrimental to my school record. But the goal-getting drive in my heart tells me to run, run for the Slushee, run for the sake of not getting killed.
Unfortunately, we collide, the impact leaving all four of us sprawled out on the asphalt, reeling from the impact. Rationality wins again. Damn, I should listen to that half of my head more often. Walt and Bobby get up, ready to block us if we attempt another daring escape.
"Now do you boys wanna tell us why you're so eager to get outta school early?"
I really don't like to resort to fighting dirty, but that seems to be my only remaining option. Feigning my best apologetic face, I point an accusing finger at Zell.
"He made me do it!"
"You lying sack of shit!" he yells back, lunging towards me. Bobby has to hold him back.
"Bring it on Chickenwuss!" I taunt.
"Why don't you?!"
"Cause Walt is holdin' me back!" I say, despite the fact that Walt is standing idly off to the side, not laying a finger on me.
"Now what in the world is going on out here?"
There it is, the grand finale. The evil voice of terrible doom has wafted past my ears and I lose all resolve to protest. I am defeated. Headmaster Cid has arrived on the scene.
Two Days Later…
"Get out of my goddamn way!"
"I was here first!"
"Fuck off!"
Zell and Seifer bicker profusely while laundering each and every jockstrap the varsity soccer team so graciously provided. Headmaster Cid keeps a watchful eye on the squabbling pair, making sure they get rid of all the dirt, sweat and… skidmarks.
Which brings us to today's lesson: if you're gonna ditch, don't do it unless you are absolutely, 100% positive there is no chance in hell you'll get caught. Even then don't do it, cause the over confident people get caught no matter how clever they are. That's just the way the cookie crumbles.
*~^//:\\THE END//:\\^~*
Note: Just so you all know, I personally have nothing against athletes or band members cause they are all talented and hardworking people. But for the record, the nameless varsity soccer captain really did say all that! I swear, those were his exact words and I will never forget that sheer idiocy! Of course, this isn't really what happened to us, we just got caught about 5 times trying to go out different exits until they finally just locked us in the drama room *lol*… but anyways, for those of you who are curious about my Quiefer fic, it's taking longer than I thought. The ending is kinda hard to write, I have a million different ideas for it but I'm not sure what you all are looking for. Any suggestions?
A/N: Another sad attempt at humor! A little background info: my friends and I are bored to death at a school pep rally that lasts around an hour and half, precious time indeed, so we decide to devise a clever plan to *drumroll* DITCH! Of course, our attempts are continuously foiled by the school's vicious security guards who seem to lurk behind every bush! So basically, this is a little tale of two troublemakers in a sort of alternate-universe that decide they'd rather veg-out at home than sit through 80 minutes of non-stop school spirit! By the way, for readers of my series "Whatever the Cat Drags In", I'll be posting the epilogue SOON! I promise! So check back often!
Disclaimer: Although based on a true story, none of the characters belong to me. Please don't sue. If these are the kinds of activities I engage in at school, do you honestly think I could handle being in a courtroom?
The Balamb Garden marching band strolls along uniformly down the football field, the cheerleaders performing a giddy little dance as the varsity soccer teams show off their so-called "mad skill". The stands are packed with students, most of them falling asleep in their seats at the Garden's snazzy display of school spirit.
Of course, there is a small area on the bleachers that is sectioned off for the "problem students". Sadly enough, I happen to be the only one in that secluded stand that was still awake. Damn peppy cheerleaders and their cursed brass lungs; if not for the head honcho of the bunch who's merrily shouting into the megaphone shoved up her mouth, I might be able to catch a few winks before school gets out. But no, life is never nice to Seifer when it really counts. Hmph.
Maybe I should start building up my good karma points while I still can, I muse. I stop, noting the absurdity of my thoughts. What am I thinking? I'm Seifer Almasy, I don't get out of a bad situation by being good, I get out of a bad situation by making it worse and running away when the going gets tough! I grin to myself, my natural bravado coming through just when I need it most.
The captain of the boys' varsity soccer team steps out in the middle of the field, taking hold of the mic and looking around at everyone up in the stands. He's blond, his hair close-cropped and spiky, an arrogant sneer on his face.
"Well, what can I say? The Balamb Garden varsity soccer team has had an awesome season. We've whooped ass on all those other ghetto schools. We have to play a few more next week before the season ends… we'll probably win those too."
I could so kick this guy's ass. I think lazily, entertaining vivid ideas on how I could pummel the over-confident jock. I could kick his ass with one hand tied behind my back. I could do it blindfolded. And I bet I could single-handedly wipe out all of his damn straightedge soccer buddies too.
"Anyways," the idiot continues, unfazed by the crowd's nonchalant reaction. "I have a joke for you guys. Okay - you ready for this? Why don't women ever get their watches fixed?" He pauses, holding the mic out to anyone who might have an answer. He is greeted with silence. "Why? Cause there's a perfectly good watch over the stove!"
He looks like he's expecting the audience to burst into uncontrollable laughter at his sexist pun. The crowd remains dead silent, several whispers rolling through the students like a tide. Someone yells out, "You suck!" I absently make a mental note to seek out the owner of that brilliant comment and personally pat him on the back; another Seifer Almasy in the making. If only the world could be so lucky.
I stretch out my long legs and casually survey the scene. Quistis, the Instructor in charge of watching the "troublemakers", is dozing off, head in hand and eyes glazed over. Perfect, I sneer. I can sneak my way over to the railing and hop the fence to building A… and then I could manage to get past the chorus hall and out the doors into the parking lot. But that's where the real problem is. Security out there is really tight. I need someone to back me, someone who I can throw at the guards as bait while I make my escape.
As though fate chose that moment to smile down upon my undeserving soul, an infuriated Instructor was leading a pokey-headed blond by the arm.
"…and you can stay here until you learn how to solve your disputes without physically assaulting the other person!"
Zell sits down a row below me, kicking at the metal stands and folding his arms across his chest.
"Hey Chickenwuss, keep it down or you'll wake the Instructor from her much-needed beauty rest!" I hiss, sliding down a row to sit next to the volatile young man in question.
"Who you callin' Chickenwuss you son of a bitch?!" his anger flares up another notch. Just as Zell's voice rose, so did the percussion on the field, each drumroll blaring at insanely abusive decibel levels.
"Ah, God, my virgin ears!"
"Shut up punk, I have a plan to get our asses outta here." I tap my fingers together repeatedly, a questionably insane look in my eyes.
"Why would I wanna have anything do to with a pansy like you Seifer?" Zell asks, annoyed.
"Cause it could get us both out of this godforsaken hell hole."
You see, I've had plenty of time to consider my options, considering there are very few options available. I draw the conclusion that, were we to get caught, Zell would be the perfect scapegoat. He's certainly dumb enough to throw himself in the line of fire, and if I sweeten the deal with a small bribe of say, a dozen hot dogs, he will be unable to resist. But I have to play my cards right; if I end up pissing him off too bad, it might result in me having to go it alone. Which would be hazardous to my permanent record.
I nearly sigh in relief; his interest is piqued, if nothing else.
"Go on Almasy." He leans back and I prepare to completely bullshit the naïve little bastard. Hopefully he's as gullible as I remember him to be.
"Alright, alright, listen up. And keep your goddamn voice down, the last thing we need is this wench" - I jerk my thumb at Quistis - "waking up and busting the two of us. So here's my plan: now that everyone is practically asleep on their feet, we're gonna slide over to the railing and hop that fence over there. I'll give you directions from there. Are ya with me?"
"I dunno…" Zell gives me a critical eye.
"Fine you idiot, I'll do it by myself, I ain't a Chickenwuss like you."
Rule number 1 in Seifer's book of mind control, never look like you're desperate for help. In fact, when possible, make it seem like you don't even want help. And of course, be sure to demean the other person so they feel obligated to prove they aren't a Chickenwuss. Works like a charm, trust me.
"You bastard! You know you need my help!" he growls. Hook, line, and sinker. What did I tell ya?
"Alright. Let's move." We slither up to the top bench and from there, we sprint in crouch position. I notice something flying to the left side of my head, and then to the right; my knees nonetheless. Maybe I'm crouched a tad too low. I check over my shoulder to make sure Chickenwuss hasn't copped out on me.
"Get your ass outta my face and move Seifer!" he snarls. Good, he's in it for real.
We make it to the railing and I throw a leg over cautiously, careful not to damage anything if you know what I mean. Now it's just a matter of climbing down this 30-foot fence. I carefully find a foothold and use my arms to work my way down. I look up at Zell, who seems like he's about to take the quicker route. He folds his hands to the sky in prayer, and then plummets down to the ground, feet first.
"Ahhhhhgghh…" I hear his faint groan. Oh well, as long as no damage is done to me, the plan is working out perfectly. I let go at the last five feet and land neatly.
"Get your ass up." I nudge Zell with the toe of my boot. "You're not gonna dodge security with a half-ass sneak-job like that."
He looks like he's ready to sock me in the face with my own shoes, but holds back, surprisingly. That's all fine and good; he's going to be a vital part of the operation very shortly. We race into the Performing Arts building and make sure no one sees us enter.
"Alright," I bark. "Just walk casually down the halls, like you're supposed to be here. There shouldn't be any teachers around, but you never know who might be lurking in these halls, so watch your back." God, Seifer you are a genius.
"Okie dokie," he tries to reassure himself. "I'm supposed to be here. I come here all the time. In fact, I know these halls like the back of my hand."
"Just shut up and keep your cool." We stroll down the hall, passing by the food lab, the design and apparel room, and the art classes before reaching a fork in the road.
"Left." I mutter, and we turn into the chorus hall. It's like walking into a living nightmare of shrieking lobsters. The sound is almost as grating as the marching band, but at least those punks have talent. I just hope this isn't the AP class, otherwise we have yet to be bombarded with a flock of wailing half-dead seagulls around wintertime. Ah yes, and there were the double doors of redemption. The light at the end of the tunnel.
"Okay." We halt at the doors and I point outside. "Nick has the day off, but Walt is patrolling the perimeter. Bobby is stationed out front. They may not seem like much of a threat, and we can easily out run em, but those are some tough motherfuckers. Try and steer clear if you can."
Another important lesson in the game of life; know your enemies. I cannot stress this enough. I've learned that knowing who's out to get in your way and how they are capable of preventing you from reaching your goals is a priceless piece of info. Currently, we only have one guard to worry about. For some reason, they think that kids are less likely to ditch during an assembly. Another reason why we can constantly outsmart adults; they're under the assumption that rules and discipline can shape up any bad seed, which is completely false. It only makes us more deceptive, and makes them more susceptible to our schemes.
We weren't home free just yet though; although it was two against one, the odds were not in our favor. Walt is nothing short of a giant, a very big, mean, scary giant who could easily take us both out before the average Joe could say "Ow." Yeah, that's how improbable the chance of survival is. I shake my head and sigh. Y'know, it's a shame I couldn't have prevented this. Wait, no it's not.
"Are we just gonna stand here all day and admire the stucco on the walls or are we gonna get outta here?" Zell yells, impatient as always. It's almost sickening to be reminded of the imbeciles I share this planet with. To think, I breathe the same air as this dipshit.
"Uh huh, and I know just the way to do it!" I shove him out the door with as much force as I feel like putting into it. All this thinking is making me kinda tired. Walt immediately notices Zell and comes hauling ass after us. I don't wait for Zell as I bolt down the sidewalk.
"Hey!" Zell calls out, getting to his feet. "You asshole! Get back here!"
That comment proves how stupid our friend Zell truly is. No fool in his right mind would actually tell his mortal enemy to turn back. That's like saying "Hey Seifer, come here so I can kick your ass." So of course I don't even toss a glance behind me. I know he's following anyways. Walt is coming after us, that beer gut of his slowing him down considerably. Thank God for the gift of youth.
I hustle around the corner, considering the idea of finding my car and driving my ass outta here. Of course, that would steal precious time that I oh-so-desperately require, seeing as I can't even remember where I parked. I just keep going, the blessed sight of a street ahead of me.
"Yo Seifer!" I hear Zell behind me. "Get your ass in gear, Walt is radioing in to Bobby out front!"
Well, shit. There goes the neighborhood. Bobby doesn't pose much of a threat either. Those short little legs of his couldn't carry him across campus fast enough to catch a sleeping tortoise. I just keep focused on the street ahead, knowing that if I can make it across, I truly am a demi-god. And then I can go to the Qwicky-mart and celebrate my victory with a blueberry Slushee. Of course Zell will act as the sacrificial lamb once more, but that don't affect me none. It's just Zell after all. I'm sure he's survived worse, and if not, there's always a first for everything.
Out of the corner of my eye, Bobby is hurtling himself towards me, and Walt is managing to zero-in on Chickenwuss. Now, the logical part of my brain tells me that this indeed calls for a collision, one that is likely to be very painful and detrimental to my school record. But the goal-getting drive in my heart tells me to run, run for the Slushee, run for the sake of not getting killed.
Unfortunately, we collide, the impact leaving all four of us sprawled out on the asphalt, reeling from the impact. Rationality wins again. Damn, I should listen to that half of my head more often. Walt and Bobby get up, ready to block us if we attempt another daring escape.
"Now do you boys wanna tell us why you're so eager to get outta school early?"
I really don't like to resort to fighting dirty, but that seems to be my only remaining option. Feigning my best apologetic face, I point an accusing finger at Zell.
"He made me do it!"
"You lying sack of shit!" he yells back, lunging towards me. Bobby has to hold him back.
"Bring it on Chickenwuss!" I taunt.
"Why don't you?!"
"Cause Walt is holdin' me back!" I say, despite the fact that Walt is standing idly off to the side, not laying a finger on me.
"Now what in the world is going on out here?"
There it is, the grand finale. The evil voice of terrible doom has wafted past my ears and I lose all resolve to protest. I am defeated. Headmaster Cid has arrived on the scene.
Two Days Later…
"Get out of my goddamn way!"
"I was here first!"
"Fuck off!"
Zell and Seifer bicker profusely while laundering each and every jockstrap the varsity soccer team so graciously provided. Headmaster Cid keeps a watchful eye on the squabbling pair, making sure they get rid of all the dirt, sweat and… skidmarks.
Which brings us to today's lesson: if you're gonna ditch, don't do it unless you are absolutely, 100% positive there is no chance in hell you'll get caught. Even then don't do it, cause the over confident people get caught no matter how clever they are. That's just the way the cookie crumbles.
*~^//:\\THE END//:\\^~*
Note: Just so you all know, I personally have nothing against athletes or band members cause they are all talented and hardworking people. But for the record, the nameless varsity soccer captain really did say all that! I swear, those were his exact words and I will never forget that sheer idiocy! Of course, this isn't really what happened to us, we just got caught about 5 times trying to go out different exits until they finally just locked us in the drama room *lol*… but anyways, for those of you who are curious about my Quiefer fic, it's taking longer than I thought. The ending is kinda hard to write, I have a million different ideas for it but I'm not sure what you all are looking for. Any suggestions?