Author's Note/: I am writing this fic not only for fun but also for two reasons: as an act of protest and as a reflection of my experiences with older people.
First, why protest, may you ask? Because, I happened to come across a very interesting article last week. While taking a break from writing, while I was reading manga scans, I came across a small, little ad that was labeled "Why Square Enix won't remake FFVII" or something along those lines. Curious, since I've been wanting to know myself, I clicked on it and read the article attached. Here is a small excerpt from the actual article:
"Square-Enix doesn't care that people want a Final Fantasy VII remake in high-definition! Fans aren't the only ones that want the iconic Japanese publisher and developer to revisit the 15-year-old role-playing game that made it an international powerhouse. Shareholders in the company want to see Final Fantasy VII HD as well.
According to Andriasang, Yoichi Wada, Square-Enix's CEO, said during an investor question and answer session that his company will only make a Final Fantasy VII remake when the company makes a game that exceeds the quality of Final Fantasy VII."
What? Just whaaaat? Not only are they ignoring the wishes of their fans and their own shareholders, but they're doing so because they're trying to achieve the impossible? NO! NO! NO! Does not compute! Does not compute! If they were going to exceed FFVII, which came out in 1997, they would've figured out how to do it before 2012!
I've written this fic as an excuse to spread the word. And I've conveniently attached a link to the article on my profile. Enjoy the BS.
Now secondly, I have written this fic to vent out a little frustration I've had with older adults in the past. Now, I did heavily base this on an episode of Daria (called "Arts N' Crass), but some of the things my heroes will experience in this fic are actually things that I've gone through... and almost to the last detail. It's kinda funny how we think of older people as old fashion and incapable of understanding the times... and yet we expect them to give us we want in general society. Irony... har.
I finally understand what my grandmother (an exceptional exception to the older adults surrounding me) always means when she reminds me that older people are just people... and often dumb ones to boot. Square Enix has finally made me realize something that I've been taught all along. The majority of older people are merely the children your parents went to school with... amplified.
I really used to look up to adults as a child. I guess this is what it means to grow up.
Anyway, enough with the ranting and the open reflection. On with the story.
A Day in the Life of Midgar High
by Lord Divestre Croft
Part One
It all started on another brain killing day in Midgar High School. Cloud found himself being able to unwind in art class, under the watchful eye of Mrs. Shera Highwind. The week's assignment was a happy memory from their childhoods. His best friend, Zack, had set up an easel beside him (as usual) and breezed right through the assignment; he came from a family of artists. And thanks to his pointers, Cloud managed to recreate himself at age eight, tripping his younger brother, Reno, into a swimming pool.
Mrs. Highwind looked over his shoulder to see his work and frowned a little.
Well, you did assign a happy memory, after all, Cloud thought unapologetically.
Near the end of class, Scarlet Jones, the vice-headmaster of Midgar High stepped right into the classroom with a stern look, stalling very little of the progress. She was holding a stack of papers under her arm.
"Is this a good time?" she asked Mrs. Highwind.
"Of course," she answered, walking towards her. "This is perfect."
Mrs. Highwind cleared her throat and got our attention. "Class… Miss Jones has a very interesting announcement to make."
The whole class turned from their canvases and gave her their undivided attention. The whole class was a patchwork consisting of every type of clique the student body had to offer: preppies, drama queens, divas, jocks, brainiacs, airheads, and just plain weirdoes. Cloud and Zack were the only outcasts.
"Midgar High will be participating in a citywide art contest at the end of this month," Miss Jones revealed. "The principle and I would like to encourage you to participate on behalf of the school."
Cloud and Zack glanced at each other in silence. Neither of them was interested.
"The theme of this contest is 'The Circle of Friendship"… friendship in the urban city and relationships with your fellow students," she continued in an uninspired tone. "What is it like for the youth of today as they face living in this great metropolis together? The piece you enter must also include a caption of some sort."
Cloud and Zack looked at each other again. Not a flicker.
"Entry is strictly voluntary, and collaboration is accepted. How you represent this theme is entirely up to you. Mrs. Highwind will be the authority of the entries that go into the contest. I will be coordinating the entries, so if you have any other questions, feel free to e-mail me or visit me at my office."
Voluntary, Cloud mused. Thank goodness for that…
"Once again, I urge you to take this opportunity to express yourselves," Scarlet droned on (it was becoming more and more clear that she had memorized a speech). "Even if you've never competed in a contest of this nature. After all, creativity, variety, and new experiences are the spice of life. Any questions?"
No one raised his or her hands. The bell rang, saving them all from the awkward silence. Miss Jones left the stack of papers and strolled out of the classroom, half-heartedly wishing them good luck.
The students hurriedly put their artwork away and moved to wash their tools in the sink. It was the end of the school day. It was Friday. Everyone couldn't wait to leave.
Cloud and Zack got into line for the sink and waited patiently.
"If she'd been more upbeat," Zack whispered in Cloud's ear, "I'd almost be enthusiastic."
The expressionless blond raised an eyebrow. "I'm not bothering. I hardly have what you'd call talent."
"Ah… but I can just see the shock on Reno's face as he goes plunging towards the water!"
That earned a tiny smile on Cloud's face.
After a few minutes of waiting, the two friends finally washed their palettes and paintbrushes and set out to escape the clutches of Midgar High. However, when they neared the door, Mrs. Highwind swooped down behind them.
"Wait just a minute, Zack," she said. "Can I speak to you for a moment?"
Zack shrugged and signaled for Cloud to wait. Cloud walked wordlessly out of the class and waited just outside the threshold.
"I'm very eager to see what the other students will be entering into the contest," she told Zack with a cheerful smile. "But I'm especially looking forward to what you'll be submitting. You'll stand out for sure."
Cloud watched as Zack froze in place and gritted his teeth.
"Oh, gee thanks…" he fumbled. "But you see… I…"
"You're a very accomplished artist!" Mrs. Highwind declared. "And you have a very imaginative mind."
Zack's face tightened into a fixed smile. "Th-thank you, m'am…"
Mrs. Highwind rested her hand on his shoulder, her face brighter than the Oceanside of Costa del Sol.
"With your talent and originality," she gushed, "I'm sure that no one can capture the theme of this contest like you can!"
Zack swallowed nervously, and Cloud watched wearily as his poor friend caved into her subtle persuasion. Little did the two boys know that this one moment of weakness would escalate from a simple contest project to a sudden case of total anarchy.
00000
Cloud and Zack joined their girlfriends at the school entrance and began a tired trek to the train station. From there, they were headed towards Cloud's townhouse.
"Ah! Why did she have to be nice?" Zack cursed, flailing his arms in the air.
All the way to Cloud's home, Zack constantly bemoaned his predicament over and over again. Aerith was clinging to his arm and giggling at his tantrum. Cloud and Tifa walked side by side at a short distance to give them space and quietly planned out the menu for their get-together.
"How about pizza delivery?" Cloud offered. "An extra large six-cheese pizza with tomatoes, spinach, and mushrooms? With sausage on a quarter of it for Zack?"
"And mozzarella breadsticks with marinara dipping sauce," Tifa added. "Maybe some chocolate molten cakes?"
"Why did she have to be so nice?" Zack mourned. "Now I have to think up an idea for a stupid contest. About friendship… relationships… student life…"
Cloud rolled his eyes. "And where to start! Whenever I go to school, there's so much superficial smoke that I can hardly see three yards ahead of me. Real friendships are far and between."
Tifa tossed her hair behind her shoulder and tugged at her messenger bag to get a better grip on it. "You've got that right! I've never seen so many cliques of friends that actually hate each other… and they're not there for each other when it really counts."
Zack pinched his chin in thought and grinned malevolently. Aerith winced at the look in his eyes.
"Who said it had to have a positive message?" he realized. "You know what… why don't I do something that really depicts the nature of teenage 'friendships'?"
"Yes!" Tifa agreed.
"Something that'll make people wake up to reality!"
"Oh, yes!" Aerith chirped.
"Something that'll slap the Kum Ba Yah out of the judges' mouths!"
"Yeah!" the girls cried in unison.
"And you're going to help me, Cloud!"
"Good luck with that!" Cloud scoffed.
00000
Cloud's older brother, Sephiroth, was the sharpest lawyer on this side of Gaia. His younger brother, Reno, was the most idiotic and narcissistic boy on the entire campus. And Cloud? He was, for the most part, a solitary person that preferred to keep a low profile. That's why he opted to wear dark-rimmed glasses to diminish his looks... a habit that annoyed Sephiroth to no end.
His home life was different from his few true friends. His parents died about two years ago, so Sephiroth was the dominant head of the household (though, he'd like to think he was in charge). His sister-in-law, Lucy, was an energetic coroner who worked at a city morgue; she and Sephiroth had met during a complicated murder trial. And Reno was an irritating junior who barely skated by in his grades and somehow had a large fraction of the female school population wrapped around his pinky finger.
So was the household of Cloud's senior year.
His family annoyed the heck out of him, but whose family didn't? He loved them all like crazy… but he'd sooner switch to wearing contacts than admit it.
Speaking of which, none of his family was present the moment his posse arrived. Obviously, Sephiroth and Lucy were still at work, and Reno was probably piddling around with his playboy buddies at the most crowded arcade in town.
More room for us, Cloud thought happily. For now, at least.
For an outcast, Cloud lived in a modestly large and spacious home… having a lawyer for a brother and a government official for a sister-in-law did that for you. Most people did not realize his true financial bracket… mostly because Reno repeatedly insisted that he only had one older brother. It suited him fine.
"Can we order buffalo wings with our pizza this time?" Zack asked him.
"Sure," Cloud replied, "but you're paying for it."
"Stingy. And you won't even help me with my project either."
"Zaaaaaaaaaack…"
Aerith and Tifa turned and stared at each other before heading towards the kitchen. They had washed their hands clean.
"You've got to help me on this!" Zack pleaded with him. "It's supposed to have some written statement or something. And you know you're the one that's good with words…"
"No!" Cloud responded sharply.
"Come on! We can combine my paintbrush with your pen. Don't you want to use this chance to 'express' what you really think of Midgar High and their so-called happy cliques?"
Cloud bit his lip. The suggestion was very enticing.
"I, Cloud Strife, have something to say to the world," he wavered. "Zack, I don't know…"
"Let's do it!" Zack urged. "I'm sure it won't even take much. You think of a little paragraph… or a poem… or a few sentences. Puleeeeze?"
Cloud sucked in his teeth as Zack resorted to giving him a sad, puppy dog look. He hated to see a grown man beg.
"If we think of something good tonight," he decided. "I'll cooperate with you, okay?"
Zack nodded like a bobble-head toy and slung his arm around Cloud's shoulder. "Which we will…"
Cloud swallowed in regret, knowing that he had tied the noose around his neck.
00000
By the time Sephiroth came back from his office and Reno trickled in from wherever, the group of teenagers had long ordered and received food from the pizza place and had currently taken over the swimming pool out back. By then, it was almost eleven o' clock. Sephiroth was too tired from a case to care about the noise, and he was soon dead to the world on the couch before he could reach his own bedroom. Of course, that wasn't before he threatened murder if they didn't save him a slice of cold pizza.
Reno snuck a buffalo wing and a slice of pizza, but he didn't stick around the pool... no matter how good Tifa looked in her red tankini. He and Zack didn't get along, and he was afraid of Tifa, who had thrown him over her shoulder two months prior to Cloud asking her out. The details of the incident were still sketchy.
At one point, Cloud and Tifa rested on the lounge chairs and started to bounce ideas off of each other. There was little success.
"How about a painting of a dragon that looks like Principle Shinra in the face?" Tifa suggested. "And he could be chasing all four of us… while we're wearing medieval rags!"
"No, thanks," Cloud countered. "I don't feel like getting suspended."
"How about a group of dragons with the faces of Priscilla and her coterie?" she offered. "You know… the school tramps?"
"Too unoriginal," he answered.
"How about you make a painting titled 'The Future Higher-Ups of Shinra Co. and just paint a picture of Reno and his friends?"
"Tifa, we're trying to gain the audience's attention… not throw them into a deep depression…"
"What's the difference?"
He paused for a moment, and she rolled on her side to face him. "Hmmm… I suppose we can use that as a back-up plan."
In the background, Aerith and Zack were sitting at the edge of the pool, paddling their feet, kicking up water, flirting. Zack slid away from the water, pulling out his legs, and seized Aerith by the waist. She squeaked as he picked her up bridal style, and he let himself fall backwards into the pool. Tifa sat up and watched as the water splashed on the ground in their wake.
"Goof balls," she snickered.
Aerith was the first to come up gasping for air. She swam up to the edge while Zack resurfaced, and she rested her elbows on the concrete. She gave Cloud an incredulous look.
"I can't believe you actually tripped Reno in this pool!" Aerith shouted. "Sheesh… you might've drowned him!"
"No, I wouldn't have," Cloud replied calmly. "We didn't even live in Midgar then. It was a blow-up kiddy pool in our backyard in Nibelheim. Besides, he swims like a fish anyway."
"I…oh…" she muttered, rubbing her head in embarrassment.
Everyone laughed. As Cloud quietly chuckled, a thought crossed his mind, and he froze.
Drown? he mused. Not there for each other when it really counts? Wait a minute…
And Cloud had an epiphany. His friends noticed the zoned-out mien on his face. Zack grinned in delight.
"He's got an idea… he's got an idea…" Zack sang.
Cloud came back down to earth… and wished he hadn't returned. Zack was staring at him with beady little eyes. He huffed in defeat.
"I'll give you your idea and caption," he promised. "But I want to be anonymous, okay?"
Zack threw up his fist in triumph.
Why do I get the feeling, Cloud thought, that this is going to be more trouble than I think?
Tifa put a hand on his shoulder. "See… you can still stay out of the spotlight."
Cloud sighed and shook his head. She cocked her head in puzzlement.
00000
The next day, on Saturday, the guests left early in the morning. Zack giddily raced back to his family's condo to get to work on his masterpiece-to-be. Cloud finished whatever leftover homework he had and got to work on his end of the project. He already knew what he needed to write, but finding the right words was a different matter. By noon, he had ended up creating twelve versions of the caption and temporarily gave up in order to have leftover Buffalo wings and a bottle of ginger ale.
After number twenty-two, Cloud had neatly spread out all of his possible ideas on the coffee table and dozed off on the couch in the fetal position. His glasses were sitting on top of caption number eight.
After a while, he started to have a wonderful dream, where Tifa was giving him a fantastic rubdown on the sandy beaches of Costa del Sol. Unfortunately, when she started to relax an irritating knot in the lower part of his back, a loud car horn gave him a jolt. Cloud groaned, trying to maintain the dream.
"That's for me!" Reno shouted through the house. "See you later!"
The loud, scuffling, thundering boom of his younger brother's feet moved straight past as he headed towards the foyer and the door.
"Cissnei!" he sang.
Cloud woke up wanting to strangle his brother. A normal, weekly occurrence.
"Ah boy…" a older voice murmured tiredly. "There he goes again. Another week. Another girl."
Cloud looked up and saw that Sephiroth was leaning against the back of the couch. His hair was gathered in a long ponytail, his shirt was half buttoned, and he was enjoying a beer. Lucy peaked her head from the swinging door of the kitchen, with her eyebrows wrinkled in an ironic furl. She had been busy making marble cheesecake brownies.
"If you don't like it, why don't you stop him?" Cloud asked.
"If Mom and Dad couldn't change him," Sephiroth responded, "what makes you think I can?"
"Then why do you keep trying to change me and my glasses?"
"Because you're actually worth grooming."
"Ouch!" Lucy cried, and she quietly slipped back into the bowels of the kitchen.
Sephiroth started to follow her.
"Wait," Cloud said. "Where's Dad's old lighter?"
"Why do you need it?" he asked.
"For creative genius. Why else?"
Sephiroth nodded and snickered. "Creative genius. I like that. I know where it is. I'll get it for you."
He strolled off and walked up the stairs. There was a strange sway to his step that Cloud noticed, even with his fuzzy vision. He sat up on the couch and went to reach for caption number eight, the one he decided was best. But when he spotted where it was, his glasses were no longer sitting on top of it. In their place, there was a small package of contact lenses.
Cloud gritted his teeth, and his ears turned blood red.
"SEPH! GIVE THEM BACK RIGHT NOW, OR I'LL CUT ALL YOU HAIR OFF!"
An evil laugh resonated from the second floor.
00000
The weekend came to a dreadful end, and the next school week began. It took until Thursday for Zack to finish the painting (using time at home and time allotted by Mrs. Highwind herself during art class), and it had been worth the wait. That day, he attached Cloud's caption to it and did the finishing touches. Mrs. Highwind passed by his easel with anticipation.
At her first look, the painting was astonishing. It pictured two, white-clad young girls in the forest; one girl was sitting at the edge of a pond, and the other was drowning (or had already drowned) in the pond. It was painted in a perspective where you could see the drowning girl's body. The water surrounding her was black, and for some reason, the black was slowly consuming her feet and the edge of her dress. The water lilies on the pond's surface were a very dark purple.
Even more perplexing, though the other girl (who was sitting in the sunlight) showed visible horror at her companion's peril, she made no move to help… not even to offer her hand.
Mrs. Highwind also noticed that edges of the caption had been purposefully burned. She read it aloud:
The Negligent Savior
She is sinking.
She is about to drown in the water.
Helping her is the only natural thing to do.
Why then, is it so unnatural to help when she drowns herself
In Bacardi
In Opiates
In her own forced Vomit
Day, after day, after day…?
The art teacher narrowed her eyes, and Zack became nervous. He gave Cloud a furtive look.
"Beautiful, if not a little disturbing," Mrs. Highwind commented. "Unappealing but necessary language. Attention to detail."
"I listened to a lot of Evanescence," Zack admitted. "It kinda made itself.
She gave Zack a smile. "It's definitely an original idea… I doubt very many people would think about it. Let's enter it into the contest."
Zack stood up straight, his face beaming. Mrs. Highwind glanced over his shoulder and looked at Cloud.
"How does that sound to your collaborator?" she asked Zack.
Cloud stiffened in surprise. Mrs. Highwind stood akimbo with a smirk.
"If you wanted to keep yourself unidentified," she told him, "you should've tried to do something out of character… like be more upbeat?"
She covered her mouth, chortling, and went to inspect the other students.
"So much for anonymity," Zack declared with a silly grin.
"Shut up," Cloud grumbled.
00000
And so, that seemed to be that.
Mrs. Highwind put the piece into the school entries. Zack was satisfied that he had fulfilled duty. Cloud mentally prepared himself for possible exposure to the spotlight. But the days slowly rolled by, and everything honestly seemed to have gone smoothly.
Honestly.
However, at the end of the next week, the week of the actual contest, Cloud and Zack were called to the principle's office. And the downward spiral commenced.
The two boys stepped into the office of Rufus Shinra. Cloud tried not to inhale the hateful smell of pretentious cologne. Rufus was sitting behind his desk in a comfortable armchair; he was wearing a polished white suit that seemed far too stylish for his occupation. Scarlet was sitting on the edge of the desk, staring at him. She got up and stood close by, wearing a dark pinstripe skirt suit, with her arms folded across her chest in an official manner.
Beside her, sitting on a metal easel, was their collaboration. Cloud could feel the bile forming in his throat.
Rufus instructed them to sit, and they pulled up two chairs at the desk.
"First of all," he began cheerfully. "I would like to commend you on an outstanding piece of art. This will definitely be the star of our showcase. And you have a very interesting… perspective…"
"Gee, thanks," Zack blushed.
Cloud nodded quietly.
"However…" Rufus continued firmly. "There is one little problem…"
"Problem?" the boys questioned in unison.
Scarlet cleared her throat to interrupt. "The piece is excellent… and we have every intention to submit it. However… what we have in mind for our entries is something a little more… upbeat and positive."
Cloud and Zack stared at each other and raised their eyebrows.
"I'm sorry…" Cloud replied. "The subject matter of the painting itself isn't meant to be positive..."
"I know that!" Rufus brushed off. "But the painting is beautiful. And the caption is unnecessarily unpleasant and bleak… Isn't there any way you can change the outlook a little. Why not tweak the caption or cut out the lower half of it…?"
"But the painting itself is also rather bleak," Zack defended. "And it's meant to be that way. Why look down on a subject that tackles a serious issue?"
"But…"
"The unpleasantness is very necessary," Cloud protested. "The whole subject of the painting reflects on a teenager's fear and unwillingness to stop his or her friend's destructive behavior. The first half of it is meant to grab your attention… and the second half is meant to convict anyone guilty of doing what the painting condemns. It's also meant to be an all-around warning for everyone. And with all due respect, I was under the impression that we were allowed to express the theme of the contest in any way we pleased. We didn't break any rules on the flyer, did we?"
Rufus sat back in his chair and scowled. Cloud realized that his supposedly logical explanation had fallen on deaf ears.
Old people these days! Cloud thought derisively.
"So, you won't change the caption?" Rufus replied.
"No way!" Zack declared. "In fact… it would probably lose its impact."
"Absolutely not," Cloud answered decisively.
Rufus let out a deeply throaty sigh and folded his hands.
"How about you take twenty-four hours to think this through first," he suggested. "Are you willing to do that?"
In other words, Cloud accused, you want twenty-four hours to strong-arm us into changing the caption.
Cloud and Zack looked at each other for guidance. There really was no choice.
"Fine," they replied.