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Speak
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Summary: Loud, boisterous Naruto suddenly fall silent upon entering 9th grade. What caused it? Why do his closest friends treat him like nothing? Why won't he speak? Because of IT, because of THAT night. Naruto doesn't want to remember. Sometime it's safe to be inside your head...
Warning for this Chapter: ?
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HAVEN
White-Haired Man: "Welcome to Art Class everyone. I'm Kakashi-sensei. This is the only time I'm early so expect me to be—give or take—twenty minutes late everyday, starting tomorrow. Now, instead of doing nothing for that amount of time, I'd like you all to do something fun and productive." Trekking over to his desk, he tosses his clipboard aside on his impeccably clean desk (which I find was strangely odd), and picks up a globe that was missing half of the Northern Hemisphere. His single eye crinkles into a crescent moon again, so I think it's safe to say that he's smiling. Why? I don't have the foggiest idea. "Now, can anyone tell me what this is?"
Student One: "A globe?"
Student Two: "No, it's an over-inflated golf ball someone painted to look like a globe after chiseling out a chunk of it. Of course it's a globe, moron!"
Student One: "I know that! He was asking what it was!"
Student Two: "Maybe it was a rhetorical question?" Insert scoff.
Kakashi-sensei intervenes. "Ah, so they haven't beaten your creativity out of you yet! Good, very good. Let's put all that creative energy into good use."
Student Three: "Question." A nod from the man, "What happened to it?"
Kakashi-sensei: "Good question. You should ask Gai-sensei why Europe is wiped from the face of the planet." He gives a nod, signifying that interruptions will not be appreciated from here on out. "You will each pick a piece of paper out of the globe." He says as he walks around the room so we can pull a piece of colorful scraps of paper from the center of the Earth. "On the paper you'll find one word, the name of an animal. Hope you like it since you'll spend the rest of the year learning how to turn that animal into a piece of art. Sculpt it, paint it, sketch it, papier-mâché it, carve it. Only catch is that by the end of the year, you must figure out how to make your animal say something, express an emotion just by looking at it."
Some people groan while others thump their heads on the table. My nearly empty stomach flutters at the notion. Is he for real? We have full reign for the rest of the year on that project? No strings attached besides the catch?
When he approaches me, I plunge my hand in and retrieve a scrap. On the black paper, neat silver writing said 'fox.' I stare blankly at it. A fox. Well, it beats an ant any day, right?
Kakashi-sensei then shows us where all the supplies are kept and returns to the center of the 'square.' "Now for introductions. We'll all go around. State your name, previous school, likes, dislikes and your dream. I'll start. Name's Hatake Kakashi and my previous school were—well, not here. What I like and dislike are none of your business. As for my dreams, you lot are not in it."
"So all we know and learned is your name?"
His single-eye crinkles. "Yes."
After a few turns, I tune the rest out since it was all the same in comparison to others with the exception of names and schools, and unconsciously came back to Reality when it is Gaara's turn.
"My name is Gaara Sabaku and my previous school was Konoha Middle. My likes are not for you to know and neither are my dislikes. My only dream is for all of you to leave me the hell alone." He crosses his arms as if to imply he won't talk any more.
I think Gaara may have acquired some unwanted admirers. Most of the girls are left drooling after his low sultry voice while guys are either annoyed at him for getting the attention of the girls' or thinks he's plain cool.
Luckily by the time it's my turn, the bell rings, signaling the end of the day. Leaving before anyone could make a move, I hurry out. Someone's eyes were trained on my back when I dashed out. It may have been Gaara's. Actually, I'm pretty positive it was him since he's the only person I know throughout my existence on this planet in the span of fourteen years that could send prickling pointed glares that promises slow or quick imminent death despite his lack of sleep. I recall him saying that he's an insomniac at one point during our friendship.
Now I wonder why he was staring at my back as I fly up one flight of stairs and try to find my locker.
Locker number 1816—located on the first floor in the Yellow Building (the one without the gym and cafeteria).
That's all I know but as to where it is located is beyond me, so I'm left wandering around trying to find it.
Maybe it was probably a good fifteen minutes of glares and pushes later did I find it. However, a familiar black ducktail-like hair catches my attention, and I find myself peeking out from behind an open door nearby. It didn't register to me how I wounded up here but that Pretty Boy's locker is next to mines.
Damn.
Anyways, he dumps his textbooks and trudges out down the stairs that was found at the end of the hall. Waiting for ten seconds, I look around to make sure that the coast is clear, and obviously it is. Practically more than half of the student body, 69.9, left to party to whatever the hell's theme they came up with in celebration of becoming a High Schooler. And possibly 13 of them go home and do whatever that a goody-too-shoe does. The other 12 probably go to work and the remaining 5 do whatever the hell they feel like doing.
I, on the other hand, the .1 percentile that's considered insignificant and useless to the school's community, go home and enjoy being locked up in my room and do nothing.
Quickly and stealthily walking to my locker, I spin the dial to the correct numbers and jerk the teal metal door open.
It didn't budge.
Slightly furrowing my brows, I figure I must've spun wrong. I try again.
It still didn't budge.
After several tries, I kick the locker as if it would help to change the thing's mind by threatening to leave a lifelong dent.
Fortunately, it seems to have changed its way after another good kick. I guess the time spent playing on the soccer team last year did me some justice after all.
Yanking open the stubborn teal door that I'm doom to be stuck with for the rest of the year, I carelessly toss my burdens of books and notebooks in, watching it pile itself into a decent heap at the bottom of the locker. To top it off, the thick Student Handbook was the icing on the cake with crumpled Class Management papers as the decoration.
I stare at it for a bit before reaching out to grab the crinkled papers and shoving it in my pocket and ripped out the paper that was to be signed in the Handbook.
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The assignment Kakashi assigned the class is the same for the one in the book, as well as the Globe Story...kind of.
Sorry for the shortness of the chapter. Expect the length to be random each update. I think it's safe to say I'll update once a month...that or sporadically, whichever comes first.
Review?