Quacked Lurker gains nothing from these pieces of fiction BASED OFF OF SOMEONE ELSE'S COPYRIGHT!!!
The battered flagpole leaning over the entrance of Casper High had seen better days. On the day the flagpole was installed, it was pristine, and perfect. Now, after decades of faithful service and almost-daily use, it was worn and looked it.
The faculty tried to keep the flagpole, the hallways, the grounds, and everything on school property as new-looking as possibly: however, budget cuts meant no polish, damages caused during ghost fights, broken lockers from hazing of freshmen and nerds or geeks, graffiti and other repairs were prioritized higher. Still, the flagpole did its duty and proudly held up the American Flag Monday through Friday, September to June.
The flagpole was serviceable, yet bent. Strong still, yet slowly being covered in rust. Taken for granted, because it was only there to hold the flag up. If it was originally built like a telephone pole or even had a secondary purpose to help light the sidewalks, then perhaps the small thin sheet and pole screwed into the wall at a forty-five degree would have received more attention--or at least recognized by the hundreds of students which passed under it daily.
On the day that Casper High hosted elementary students from out of town, the faithful tool finally gave way to the elements of time, neglect, and ignorance.
Timmy Turner, sighed as he reluctantly followed Crocker's fifth grade class out of the Dimsdale bus and into a prospective High School. He hung his head not bothering to look around and explore the school--it wasn't a fun field trip. It was a mandated school trip that the entire Dismdale Elementary school district had to take, and Crocker, being unable to argue his way out of skipping the session was less fun than ever. Even Frances kept his fists to himself during the ride.
With a reluctant step, Timmy stepped onto the sidewalk that seemed to mock him and his entire life. The older, bigger kids were in attendance, which made the situation worse, because now either their lunch, or free periods were being taken up with showing the ten and eleven year olds around their campus. The school board wasn't going to insist that this learning experience interrupt other teacher's classes, nor were they going to ask for volunteers. No, the school boards and bureaucrats decided those with free time would be recruited into giving the preteens the experience of a lifetime.
A.J. kept away from Mr. Crocker as did Chester and every other student with survival in mind. In fact, the entire class tromped behind the irate school teacher, not risking any behavior that might compel him to give a personalized F to who ever he felt deserved it.
Crocker, halted shortly before the doors and turned to face his students. Before he could open his mouth to shout or reprimand anyone, a sudden snap echoed through the school yard. Timmy, way in the back, looked up. His jaw dropped. The flag under which Mr. Crocker stood was falling. "NO" he screamed, pushing his way forward to try to limit the physical damage.
The pole and its burden, fell and hit the ground. The teenagers gasped--at least, those who looked up and saw the accident before it happened.
There was nothing under the flag that lay twisted upon the ground.
A prone figure off to the side shoved a black haired kid aside. "Off me, you malicious fool. I don't need your help and I certainly never asked for assistance either." Crocker stood up and brushed the imaginary grass stains off his pristine, white shirt. He stepped over the sprawled kid who seemed hurt by the teacher's attitude.
Timmy ignored Crocker. Even though he hated the teacher--who was only teaching to fill a supposedly temporary position while searching for FairyGodParents--he didn't want the adult bane of his life to be hurt. "Are you okay?"
The black-haired, blue eyed teen stood up and brushed off grass clippings from his red sleeved shirt. "I'm fine, thanks for asking." He turned and walked away from the tragety that had almost happened.
Before following, Timmy whispered to his pink backpack and green sweater, "I wish the flagpole was as good as new." Unnoticed by any of the scattering crowed, two black sticks with shiny gold stars twinkled for one second and the flagpole and its burden were instantly standing straight and proud, back where they belonged.
"Hey, can I at least know your name? I don't know anyone who's willing to risk their lives, reputation or anything else to help Mr. Crocker, the foulest, meanest, absolute worst teacher in the whole universe."
The teen chuckled. He stopped walking away and faced the out-of-towner. "The name is Daniel Fenton, but my friends call me Danny." Danny held out his hand.
"Cool!" Timmy took the offered hand and shook. "Does this mean I'm your friend?"
Danny Fenton shrugged. "If you want to be, sure." Something unheard by Timmy caught his new acquaintance's attention. "Did you want to join me and my fellow outcasts for lunch?"
Timmy shrugged. He shuffled his feet and turned his back on his class. "Sure, I've got nothing better to do, and I bet you know your way around better than most."
Danny grinned. "You have no idea," he whispered.