Chapter One: He's Your What?
Disclaimer: I don't own Victorious (as immensely awesome as that would be) nor do I claim any of the characters in this story, save for Seth, as my own. If you folks enjoy this, please comment on it. I accept negative comments but I do ask they be kept civil and helpful, not merely there to bash my work.
The nigh translucent blue of the Hollywood stratosphere bathed Hollywood Arts in its ambient glory-the jibbering of gossip spread throughout the whole of the school about Sinjin's latest crush, ala the queen of everything Goth and bitch (Jade West), emanating as a raucous roar; the Hollywood Arts' school bus' passion pink amidst a swathe of sky blue encompassing the hood pulled up along with...
VROOM! VROOM!
"Goddammit! Move already! Some of us gotta get to work ya know!" The revving of the black and yellow 2011 Harley Davidson Low's immense engine, coupled with the ire fueled bile projection of the black with purple stripes leather clad rider-the white male's handsome visage ill concealed behind the shade of his thickly tinted, silver riding goggles; his shoulder length, frizzily quaffed brown hair pulled into a ponytail, strands drooping over his emerald orbs: intense, fiery, focused.
The bus'-itemized, budgeted for the use of transporting the less fortunate students whom did not posses a vehicle of their own-swivel doors arched open, the teens within ambling out of the vehicle.
"Damn...Like who's the hot guy on the bike?" The attractive young woman, Latina, curly long hair...a haughty disposition, curvacious...
"TRINA! [A scolding slap meets the Latina's cranium-the pretty woman clad in blue halter top and black jeans pouting at the abuse] He is SOOOO not your type. You NEVER go for the bikers." The comment had been vocal enough (screeched over the din of the Low) for the biker to comprehend over the roar of the engine (the slender, jean short, flip flops and tye-dye shirt clad Latina girl latching onto the one dubbed 'Trina's arm, ushering her up the cement steps)-the leather clad fellow tilting his riding goggles down upon his bulbous nose; the leather, fingerless gloves encompassing his manly, hairy hands gripping the motorcycle's handlebars just a bit tighter.
"Bitch." The sneering, smarmy statement resonated volumes within the recesses of the biker's consciousness-the shaven fellow tilting his sunglasses back up, the school bus's doors swiveling shut and the vehicle venturing on, turning into the bus parking lot across the street from the campus. "Wouldn't know a decent guy if he pledged his undying love for her before all of these damn kids. Ol' girl probably aint ever had a date either. [Peels out, the remnant of the straggling student body affixed to the sexy ride as he veered into the faculty parking lot]"
"What the hell do you think you're doing, sir? This is a school, not a...not bike week at Myrtle Beach!" The biker sighed wearily (a tweed jacked clad, mid-forties remnant of the seventies' used car dealer line of douche bags darts towards him-the biker parking in the remarkably convenient, just to his right and right by the side entrance to the building, motorcycle parking spot) , removing his goggles and stuffing them into his multi-pocketed, leather jacket's left front pocket. "SIR! I said..."
"Yeah, yeah. I heard you. [Mumbles] Jackass..." The biker powered down his motorcycle-booting down the kickstand and swinging his right leg off of the bike, pocketing his keys.
The douche in the tweed persisted his arrogance-hands on his hips and pointing at the anonymous biker.
"Want to keep that finger, asswipe? [The used car salesman knockoff's eyes widen in horror at the implication-lowering the digit] Names Seth Shapiro, ummmm... [Eyes the balding, terribly designed suit wearing jackass up and down] reckon that makes you my ass pain, or should I call you Painy? Yes, I like that: Painy." Seth chuckled in amusement, the blustering imbecile in plaid huffing as Seth rifled through his bike's side pack-the long haired snarker brushing loose strands of hair away from his eyes, tucking them behind his left ear. "Now, do something useful instead of standing there slackjawed, and point me to Principal Helen's office would ya? [The balding fellow crosses his arms-Shapiro tucking a single book and a smaller notebook into his jacket, locking his Harley's side packs] Today's Tuesday, yeah? I aint got time for this shit, brah. I got [Rolls up his left jacket's sleeve and gazes at his watch] an hour til I have to be in room 321, alright." The poorly dressed faculty member sighed heavily, extending his hand to Seth-the biker promptly shaking it.
"I am Gordon Allensly. I teach French here at Hollywood Arts. Your...uhhh mode of transportation unnerved me. [Allensly's hand is promptly slapped away as he attempts to caress the bike] I did not expect the new Creative Writing teacher to be so...uh, how does one say...Oh, rebellious." Allensly smirked at the ire rising within Seth-the Jewish man striving with increased difficulty not to throttle the cocky jackass in front of him.
Opting to sort this out himself, he shoved Allensly aside, leaving the self important 'sophisticate' in his wake.
"Touch the bike and I end you, Gordon." Shapiro's stride had not faltered, nor did he hazard a gaze back to the stuffy fellow-Allensly's hand retracting from the motorized vehicle, the forty-something year old French professor dashing after Shapiro.
[Ten Minutes Later]
Robbie Shapiro was situated in the furthest row of seats from the all oak desk situated before him, in the furthest row to the back of the 60 foot x 30 foot classroom. He was the loner. The nerd. The geek.
Trina Vega, Jade West and damn well every single member of the female student body, sans a particularly lanky Latina and a bubbly redhead, echoed this sentiment to the Jewish boy on a regular basis.
Yet...
He took solace in his outlet, his one resounding means to quell those depressing truths which were self evident, at the cost of his mental faculties, his sanity-staggering into madness with a ventriloquist dummy dubbed Rex serving as his sounding board, his mouth piece. To state what he harbored so deeply within his soul but God help him he could never sum up the fortitude to utter.
His deep seated crush...Or was it love? His deep seated love-crush for the perky, bubbly, air-headed Caterina Valentine, Trina Vega and immensely deep within his bushy mane of curls Jade West, despite said woman ostensibly dubbing him a walking parasite and wishing him to crawl into the bowels of Hades.
Yet...
He possessed a startling bit of intel which his closely knit circle of six 'friends' could scarcely even fathom.
[Saturday Eve-Three Days Prior]
I Don't Care by Fall Out Boy kicked up as Robbie Shapiro's Pear Phone rattled upon his plaid, quilted bedspread-the Jewish boy sprawled upon said bed as a classic rerun of Spongebob Squarepants (ten years out of date) flashed across his flat screen television situated catercorner to his position.
The room was Robbie. That is all to state about that. Any onlooker happening to hazard a glance into the nerd's bedroom would note that it was tidy, rife with anime, manga, video games and models and instantly know that even if cranked over the head with a tire iron immediately after and tossed into the trunk of a car that it was indeed the room of Robbie Shapiro they had been in shortly before.
Especially one particularly terrifying dummy reclining against the curly-haired boy.
"Hey, yo! Man, why don't we eva go out? It's not like your Mom's gonna care where ya go. Oh wait, SHE AINT HERE!" Robbie snarled at the snickering puppet...dummy, snagging it by the shoulders and shaking it.
"Dammit, Rex! She's out of town, and...[Eyes drop, releasing Rex onto the bed, hugging his knees to his chest] didn't even bother to call Dad to come by for the weekend. I mean, they're divorced sure but shit! I am their son. A fucking person, Rex!" The tortured boy cupped his hairless face, zoning out, shutting Spongebob from his thoughts, recalling that he indeed DID have a telephone buzzing two feet away from him.
He never did bother to note the caller ID, nor did it occur to him to do so this time.
"Hello?" The kindly, tortured soul's agony waxed thickly within his voice-his salutation wavering.
"Rob? What's up, brah? It's Seth." The chipper statement birthed a smile upon Robbie's lips-the lonely boy with naught but a dummy usually as his sole friend relaxing, calm and collected. "Anything wrong, man? I'm your cuz, cuz. Lay it on me." Seth was family, for certain. The only family Robbie ever felt close to, despite the ten year age gap-cousins are cousins and these two were akin to an older and younger brother dichotomy, not two men born to different mothers.
Robbie never felt the compulsion to hesitate with Seth-never to hold anything back from him, nor to sugar coat the truth.
"Mom left town. I'm here alone, man. I hate this. Just wish that she had...[The eighteen year old rises to his feet, leaving Rex in his wake as he ambles across his room, into the dimly lit hallway rife with photographs and to the staircase leading to the first floor] called Dad. He always comes when she calls, unless he's busy. I can't call him...[He halts on the stairs, collapsing upon the crimson carpet step midway down] not when he's gotten pissed at me for calling him at work before. I think he's having sex with his secretary. Could be wrong but I think I interrupted them once..." Robbie lays his mop of a head upon the plush carpet-uncomfortable the wooden uncovered step behind him was, sure, but he did not fancy caring one way or the other.
Seth would never be bothered by this. His mother had always inexplicably left to go on a business trip or a vacation with one of her myriad of suitors. Her 'Flavor of the Week' as she called them. It was not his matter to worry about. Seth had been eighteen and living on his own. What did it faze Robbie if his mother fucked ten guys a week?
"Shit, Rob...Want me to come by? Keep you company, bruh?" Robbie knew damn well that Seth Shapiro lived in Oakland, so in order to reach Hollywood he'd have to achieve a record to arrive in a reasonable amount of time without halting at a motel overnight.
The lanky teenager rose to his feet, staggering down the remaining twenty steps and into the living room-the kitchen just beyond.
Being a Jewish family, they upheld the statutes of traditional Jewish dietary law, to include: no pork products, shellfish, or certain cheese...Momma Shapiro did, anyhow.
Did Robbie adhere to his family's traditions? Nope! He ate whatever he pleased.
"Oakland's a hell of a drive, dude. I mean, if you want to go ahead but no need to do that just for me." Robbie snagged a bag of Thomas' bagels from the pantry, opening the fridge for some cream cheese. He wasn't all that hungry but by God did he love him some cream cheese!
"Yeah, about that...[Car honks its horn] Hey! Hey! Dickbag! I'm driving here! [Honks again] What, never seen a Fiat before? [Turns up the music-Hatebreed blaring through the speakers-Robbie pulling the phone away from his ear] Yeeeeeeah! Cut THIS off, assbag! [Turns the music down] Sorry about that Robbo. Had to put a shithead in his place. [The Robbie in question sticking his pinkie onto his ear and twirling it]" The scrawny teen staggered to the knife rack, snagging the butcher's knife, slathering cream cheese onto the bagel and hazing a bite-savoring it, his hearing slowly returning.
"What was that?" Seth's previous statement radiated poorly-Robbie's ear drum damn near burst from the intensity of the music.
"[Sighs] I said that I am moving to Hollywood. Long story, but the short and curlies of it involve me getting a position at Hollywood Arts. Figured if I'm gonna move it may as well be near family, ya know." Robbie's eyes widened, his teeth clutching the whole of the soft bagel, frozen in place at the bombshell-the boy's spaced out fog missing Seth's increasingly growing aggravation through the haze. "Bobbo!" Robbie loathed being called that, snapping him out of his reverie.
"[Bites down on the bagel] Dnammitch, Sheth. Chyou know I hate that [Chews and swallows the bite] name." Robbie and Seth were closer than most siblings, but like most siblings each had his own hot button. For Robbie it was 'Bobbo'.
"Got your attention though. [Honks horn] HEY! Where'd ya learn to drive shitbag! Indy this aint!" Though a loose cannon, Seth was a very good person-his temper though dredged up thoughts of a certain goth woman with a chip on her shoulder. Robbie sighed, finishing the bagel. He loved Seth and the two coexisted fine-Seth nothing like Jade West when it came to dittily dick except for his sharp tongue.
Seth was not Gothic, nor did he purposefully treat others poorly just to make a point. A temper he had, sure, but it was one that had a purpose to exist. He did not utilize it lest it be necessary or simply to fuck with someone.
Six years as a high school, Creative Writing professor. It was his passion, his calling and dammit he excelled at it. Never did a student fail his class. He made sure of it; be it through after class tutoring, or giving a different assignment. Noone had EVER failed his Creative Writing class. Not once. How could they even fathom failing being under the tutelage of a five time, New York Times bestseller?
"So [Chews and swallows the last of the bagel-rubbing his hands to get the crumbs off] why are you moving here? Is Kristen alright with this? I mean, Arlene, Liam and Ted they're what...elementary school now, right? Don't tell me you're dragging them here just for a job!" The intensity of his demeanor, coupled with the quickness of the bagel going down began to give Robbie heartburn as he closed and put away the bag of bagels, returning the cream cheese to the fridge, and expelling a hearty belch.
"Simmer down, dude. You haven't seen the kids in a few years, sure, but...Kristen's not coming. I'll explain later. You still live on Greenbrook, right?" Kristen not coming? Robbie's mind was swimming, demanding he ask but there'd be time for that; stunned that Seth had not ripped on him for the belching into the receiver.
Yet...
"Yep. 3512. Don't tell me you're already in Hollywood!" Robbie was stunned, snagging a bottle of Aquafina from the fridge, shutting it back. It was eight p.m., so Seth must have been driving for six hours.
"I thought so. See you in ten." Seth hung up-Robbie gazing at the device in his hand-pursing his lips, anticipating the arrival of the 'bad boy' whom his mother and mamaw both curiously encouraged him to hang with.
[Ten minutes later]
Robbie had no inkling Seth had arrived when he did-utterly amazed at the Fonzi knockoff's stamina, never mind his penchant for arriving on time.
Seth had silenced the music-seemingly only utilizing the uproarious outburst prior to piss off the antagonistic driver.
The car door slammed shut-Robbie propped on the beige sofa, Miyazaki's Castle in the Sky playing on the fifty inch television his mother had opted to purchase...or perhaps one of her boyfriends had done so. Robbie had no iota of a shit to give when it came to the finer points of what his mother opted to purchase, nor what was gifted to her by her 'flavors'.
The Myers sisters, Julie and Portia: each possessing the quality of never staying with a man for longer than it took anymore to attain some semblance of tangible gift, sponging off of them and then tossing them away like the condom that Julie always insisted her suitors wore; though it was only Julie whose lifestyle immensely impacted her son Robbie-each marrying a wealthy Jewish fellow for his riches.
The melodic chiming of the doorbell emanating into Robbie's ears caused him to be ripped from his reverie.
The lonesome teen rolled off of the sofa, ambling to the front door, ripping it open to find...
"Robbie!" The leather jacket, black jeans and Pantera t-shirt clad Seth happily lifted his cousin into a hug with one arm (the other behind him), smiling with glee to see him, releasing the squirming teen. "Have ya eaten? Hope not, since I got...[Whips other arm around] Duna dun dun dun! Pizza! (The Papa John's box causing Robbie to drool) Hey, whoa whoa! None'a that!" Robbie facepalmed, wiping the drool away with his forearm, inviting his cousin inside.
"Hey, uh, where, where are the kids?" Pain encompassed Seth's visage, yet the writer remained stalwart, calm, not wavering from his politeness towards the geeky ventriloquist, edging his way into the Shapiro home.
"Kristen has em for the weekend, bruh." Robbie's gaze extended outward, expecting the missus to come pulling up behind his cousin-the nerdy Jew remaining in the open doorway. "You can come inside, dude. [He ambles to the kitchen and puts the pizza onto the counter] She aint coming." The badass writer ripped open the box, extracting a piece of the pizza-the sausage, peperoni, peppers and extra cheese odor wafting into Robbie's nostrils; the nerdy high schooler kicking the door shut and hurrying to the counter.
"Not coming? [Snags a piece of the supreme pizza] What do you mean she's not coming?" The food, though heavenly to his palate and gut, failed to satiate the fear welling within the kindly Jew's heart-Castle in the Sky persisting to play ambiently, neither man paying the anime any discernible attention.
"She plopped a stack of divorce papers into my lap one night and then dashed out the door, bruh." The pizza consumed, Seth ambled to the same beige sofa Robbie had occupied before-kicking off his steel toed Lugz and plopped his black socked feet upon it. "Some schmuck she met at the agency, man. I swear that I didn't see it coming. What kind of suave son of a bitch works at an ad agency and is dapper enough to take away Kristen from a fucking biker? Fuck me, man...I need a smoke. Been shitty..." Robbie flinched, fervently wishing that Rex were firmly planted upon his hand-the dummy making conversing in these diabolically tragic situations far simpler.
Then he was up...Seth didn't bother with his shoes as he made his way to the front door, tossing it open and stepping onto the front porch, extracting his pack of Camel Crush from the recesses of his inner jacket pocket, flicking open the pack, snagging a cancer stick, crushing the mentholated ball within the base, and into his mouth it went; out coming his Killswitch Engage Zippo from his right jeans pocket, lighting the cancer stick.
Robbie abhorred smoking. When his dad did it, when his mother's suitors or girlfriends did it. His cousin, the man who was ostensibly the one human being he could classify as a true friend, was smoking his life away.
Robbie had to say...something, anything-anything to bring the tormented man some peace.
The teen summed up the nerve and joined his cousin on the porch.
"I wont even ask if you want one, Rob. I know you don't smoke. These'll kill ya." The snide comment didn't even sting Robbie-the mentally unsound teen wincing as his best human friend sucked down on the cigarette, blowing smoke into the California night air. "You know what the hell of it is, bro? [Robbie shakes his head, Seth leaning against the vinyl siding-the cigarette bobbing up and down between his lips] She played it off like our marriage was fine. And stupid, fucking Seth 'Heart of Gold' Shapiro bought it." Robbie had no idea what to do. Did he hug him? Did he leave him be? Having never experienced it himself, and not being the master of everything love he was no expert in consoling those who've been shredded by loss.
"I...I had no idea, Seth. I'm sorry." Seth edged over to the porch's railing, spitting into the bushes.
"Yeah...You're sorry, my attorney's sorry, the fucking mailman is sorry. Sorry is like shit-only so much can come out at a time before it begins to hurt." The tormented Shapiro leaned on the railing, puffing away at his cigarette. "I get custody of the kids, though. My one 'fuck you' to Kristen before her ass has to pay child support. Ha! Like she ever supported our children the way I do. Laughable. Always at that fucking agency...late into the wee hours and undoubtedly fucking that shitstain!" Robbie put his arm around his cousin, patting his shoulder-the over six foot tall Seth smiling despite the pain.
"Good old Robbie. Always good to have around for support." The single, father of three hugged the younger Shaprio in return, taking another drag of the smoke. "After six months though, the loneliness continues to grow, man. Aint like I can shut this shit off. Ain't like I can just go and ask out any random woman and bed her. [Takes a final, long drag, finishing the cigarette-snuffing it out upon the already dingy railing, tossing the cancer stick into the bushes] Not too many women [Blows the smoke] wish to associate with a man who's got three kids, even if the kids have been raised with ethics I thought were lost after my generation came and went." Tears formed in the eyes of the younger Shapiro, the situation so similar to his own, yet he possessed none of Seth's attractiveness, and those glasses...
"So, uh, when do you start at HA?" Seth interlaced both sets of fingers together, his elbows upon the railing; the alteration of subject matter immensely appreciated.
"[Takes a breath] Tuesday. Gotta meet with the principal and get my itinerary. Reckon I'm gonna be teaching the senior class though. Probably will have you in there, Rob." Robbie did not fear that scenario-Seth an actually good teacher, from all the stories he had heard, and a damn good writer by the number of best selling novels he had written. "Hey, mind if I crash here tonight? I'm beat." Seth yawned, Robbie nodding and returning inside to ensure the guest room had pillows and bedding prepped.
The front door creaked open, snapping shut as Seth entered.
"I got the guest room ready for whenever you need it." Robbie appeared at the head of the stairs, thumbing towards said guest room.
Seth dashed outside, much to Robbie's confusion, returning with a rucksack serving as his suitcase.
"What? [Robbie's gaze measures the backpack] It holds a hell of a lot more than the damn suitcases I previously used." Seth kicks the door shut, locking it, trudging up the stairs and past Robbie to the guest room. "Rob? [Robbie turns his head to his cousin] I wake up when I wake up. You know that. Good night." The door shut and a litany of zippers chorused into Robbie's ears-Seth understandably sleepy after a six hour drive.
"Good night, Seth." The younger Shapiro left him to his own devices-Seth not a menace or a thief so no need to fret about that, but...
'Good eye sniper.' Robbie's Pear Phone emanated loudly from where he had left it in the kitchen-Coheed and Cambria's A Favor House Atlantic remarkably louder than he had recalled setting it for.
The younger Shaprio dashed downstairs to his Pear Phone, snagging it and activating his inbox.
From: Cat
Message: Hiiiiiiiii!
Robbie grinned, turning red as he thought of the pretty little redhead.
[Tuesday-Three Days Later]
"Robbie? Hey, are you alright?" The chipper tone of Catarina Valentine' melodic voice wafted into Robbie's ears; the dummy-toting teen turning red again as he gazed adjacent to him at the cute face staring.
'Damn she's gorgeous.' The thought had rattled about in Robbie's head for four years. He loved her. Wasn't merely lust. Sure, he saw her as beautiful but she was also the sweetest girl he had the pleasure of knowing.
He knew it was not merely her fiery red hair or her bubbly, innocent personality or her petite figure. It was all of that and immensely more. He had dreams about her-he her knight and she his princess, riding off on Shenron to a castle in the sky. He had been watching far too much anime for his own good-the images of possessing a figure sculpted by Michelangelo that the gorgeous redhead would swoon over perpetual aesthetics to his dreams.
"Yeah, Cat. I'm fine. Just a bit tired I suppose." He of course wasn't. Seth had attained a place in Hollywood but opted to stay with Robbie for the weekend. Something about the commute being less of a 'pain in the ass to get to the damn school'. But he was an excellent house guest-Robbie's mother staying on her 'business trip' an extra three days-and did not keep Robbie up at ungodly hours, unlike when his minuscule circle of friends opted to remain at Casa de Robbo for the weekend.
Cat smiled at Robbie (resting her porcelain cheek upon her tiny wrist), giggling happily-the ditzy girl having no earthly idea the effect she had on him.
"So, are you excited about Creative Writing? I hear we're getting a new teacher." The tiny teen girl giggled as she always did, taking Robbie's hand; the geeky ventriloquist's pulse racing at the contact.
"Man, your heart's beating a mile a minute. What's wrong wit you?" The ever affable Rex-mood destroyer-could not help but chime in with his two cents...or ten in most cases.
Cat didn't grasp the concept-much as she rarely did-the air-headed space cadet's random babbling evident of her existing in a realm of her own.
"Yeah, C...Cat I'm very excited about C...Creative Writing. [Clears throat] In fact my cousin is teaching it." Cat's expression brightened brighter than her usual joviality.
"But I thought all teachers were old." Aaaaand it deflated into confusion-the pretty redhead babbling about how 'Gosh he must be old then' and 'I wonder if he likes gummi bears'.
It suddenly occurred to Robbie the presence of a certain curvy Latina...
"Why is Trina is class with us? I thought she had graduated back in May." Cat's zoning eyes, albeit glazed over from her spacey, God knows where mental droning.
"Ohhhhh," The lovely redhead giggled happily-her bubbly personality naturally happy. "she said that she had to pick an elective so she could graduate with us, since she was held back a semester, and thought this one was an easy class." She smiled sweetly, Robbie inwardly melting as he stared at the lovely European girl.
Panting, swearing and mutterings of 'this had better be the right damn room' emitted from the hallway, jarring the lovestruck Robbie from his focus on the object of his affection-Seth Shapiro ambling into the room much to the shock and then pleasure of the very leggy Trina.
"Yo, the bike rally's in Vegas this week. That's about three hundred miles [Points to the East] that-a-way." Jade West, ever the charmer, disdainfully found her snark ill effective against the rattled, apathetic Seth Shapiro.
"Hot Topic called...Neh, too low hanging that fruit. Ah ha! Helena Bonham Carter called-she wants her wardrobe back." Jade smirked at the comment, the dreadlock-cuaffed token black guy rattling off a heartfelt 'DAYUM!' (a cranial-crushing slap reeling the mirthful teen's head to and fro, courtesy of Trina's presumed sister), it not offending her at all...save for slightly-his ballsyness impressive to the Goth; Jade's eying Seth's crotch in those leather pants deterring her default 'vengeance' mode.
Seth headed to the oaken desk (Trina and Jade's gazes fixed upon his ass in leather-their ocular orbs bobbing about akin to tennis balls at Wimbeldon), snagging a piece of chalk and writing 'Seth Shapiro' upon the chalkboard then tossed it back into the tray, turning around to regard his class.
"Alrighty, class. Welcome to Creative Writing. My name is Seth Shapiro. [Jade murmurs a snide 'No shit'-the lanky brunette whom Seth mentally notes commented negatively about him is in the second row, Seth displeased with this turn of events; steeling himself to remain the professional those six prior years had molded] Rules time (Rubs hands together, ridding them of chalk dust): First...Yes, I am Robbie's cousin as my mop-headed relative undoubtedly told y'all, so no digging into him or me about it. Number [Holds up his pinky and ring fingers] deux...Do not call me Mr. Shapiro; that is my father's name and it makes me feel older than I already am. [Trina scrawls 'Totally hot' and 'For sure not old' within her Lady Gaga spiral] Do what I say, get the assignments done in a timely manner, and don't piss me off-you'll pass the class. [The leggy Latina (the same dreadlocked black boy ribs with a mocking 'that goes double for you Trina') takes notes] To those who are going to ask, since it always happens no matter which school I teach at, for fuckall if I could even care why: Yes...I am single but [Trina giddily squees] I have kids, so be enthralled by that however you will. [Sarcasm] Whoo hoo. [Trina takes notes-put off by the kids part, but smiling anyhow]" Seth took a seat on the edge of the desk, zipping down then removing his jacket-Trina's eyes glued to his leather bound, and very muscular physique; Jade eying his chiseled pecs-a 'You shall be mine' uttered betwixt gritted teeth. "So...Shit, it is such a nice day that it is a shame to have class inside. Plus, I wanna to have a smoke. Any of ya'll smoke? [No reply is garnered-Seth uttering a detached 'Whateves'] So, everyone, get up and grab your notebooks or whateva you use to write on. Shit, use your Pear Phones. I don't care. If it can be written on it works. Now, [Thumbs point upward-Seth fingering his pack o' Camels through his jacket] asses up, and let's a-go." Seth snagged his jacket-Jade eying it also noting the myriad of zippers and snaps with mental approval-putting it on, the lanky Latina puzzled as Jade sneered at her, taunting her to 'Move your ass, Vega, like the goody goody you are'.
The lanky Vega obeyed, but stopped short waving her hands at Seth-the teacher leaning against the door frame waiting on his class; Seth's nicotine withdrawal kicking in, from not imbibing in a smoke break that morning.
"Yep? What?" [Seth slides his chiseled arms into the black, leather sleeves] Vega had the floor.
"What about our stuff? Wont someone steal it if we don't bring it?" Seth sighed wearily, mumbling to himself about 'Goddamn teens' and it being 'Too early for this shit'-his six year removed 'facepalm reflex' kicking in, slapping his forehead.
"Then bring it, alright! Just get up, grab your shit and go. [The writing teacher is immensely perplexed by her ineptitude] That is all." Vega did just that-snagging her backpack as the rest of the class (complete with the token pretty boy, the token black guy, and some little shit who looked twelve that Trina snarled at and called Sinjin) did the same. "I was gonna lock the door anyhow. Shit, girl, we're just gonna be right outside." Jade chuckled at the treatment her rival received-Trina getting turned on by the strong and confident man before her.
The class followed Seth outside the classroom-Seth reaching into his side jacket pocket and extracting a single keyring with their classroom's number scrawled on laminated paper, locking the door; the key returned to his pocket with jittery fingers.
"Alright, we're gonna go out into the grass. Any objections? [His hand reaches into his Camel Crush's nestled pocket, fingering the pack with shaky digits] I just want to smoke and do so where I wont get shit from the principal over this." No objections arose, save from Vega, yet Jade clamped a hand over her mouth.
"Look, Vega, this guy is cooler than Sikowitz. Cooler. Than. Sikowitz. Hell, the Siko never let us have class outside before. Don't piss him off, let him get his smoke break or I will harm you." [Jade's fingernails dig into the Latina's cheek] Vega's eyes widened, the rest of the class passing around them wisely not interfering, the lanky girl nodding at Jade's request prompting the Gran High Poobah of Goth and Bitch to release her clutch and saunter after the studly biker.
Seth led the class to the grassy patch outside their classroom-just as he had stated-takes out his pack of Camel Crush (Robbie immensely familiar with the brand by this juncture) and lit up.
"Alrighty, class, rollcall." Seth perched the cigarette between his lips, puffing out smoke like a chimney as he extracted the roll sheet from his other, inner jacket pocket.
[End of Chapter 1]
Next Chapter: Rollcall with the Chimney