Title: Another Brick in the Wall
Chapter: The Newest Victim of Herrington High
Author: Lea of Mirkwood
Disclaimer: I don't own the Faculty. I only own Kit.
September 1, 1998, Herrington High, Ohio.
Herrington High was a normal high school. There was the popular bunch, which, predictably, consisted of the football team and their cheerleaders. There was the goths, the druggies, the dropouts, the geeks/scapegoats, and the A-students. The popular ones loved school, because of their superiority. Everyone else hated it.
The student parking lot was filled with the usual piece of crap cars. As Kit pulled up in the parking lot, Elton John's "Saturday Night's All Right For Fighting," blaring from her speakers, she glanced at the rusting busses, painted with "GO HORNETS!!!" on the side on the school's red and gold. Kit parked her fading blue convertible in the back of the parking lot, next to the football field. She turned off the motor and sat there for a moment, staring at the football team. She followed their progress as they moved through the parking lot and past the bus loop, knocking the line of students getting off the bus sideways. She sighed and looked down at her backpack.
"Oh well."
She opened the driver's side door and got out, ruefully grinning at the sound of screeching tires. A black car with red stripes sped in and pulled around diagonally and parked, taking up three parking spaces. Kit ran her fingers through her chocolate colored hair and slung her bag over her shoulder. She watched as an older, black-haired guy got out of the badly parked car and opened his trunk. She walked past, smirking at him.
"Wow. You've turned shitty parking into an art form," she said derisively. He smiled at her, in a rude sort of way. A few other boys gravitated towards the car, and a furtive exchange of money for porn was made. Kit snorted.
"Jesus, it's like moths to a flame!" she called back. "Bzzzt! Guys to porn!"
She ignored whatever reaction they displayed and walked on towards the school. Kit pulled her rectangular framed glassed out of her pocket and put them on, kicking a beer can along before her carelessly. She was an average girl, seventeen. Brown-haired, green-eyed and tall, she looked innocent enough, with her always grinning eyes, and her wide smile, but what people usually didn't see was the chip on her shoulder, the chip that carried a Uzi. Kit was very odd. She preferred "free-spirited." Katherine O'Connell walked into Herrington High.
--- --- ---
Kit looked down at her schedule.
"2-204, 2-204, 2-204.....where the fuck is 2-204?"
"Hi, are you new here? Welcome to Herrington High!"
Kit counted to three, considering the merits of finding class versus turning around and asking whoever it was if they had a cat in their pants. She decided class was more important and turned around.
"I truly hope you enjoy it here. I'm Delilah Profitt. Need help finding your class?" asked the trendy girl in front of her, with a practiced expression of welcoming firmly pasted on her Estee Lauder face.
"Kit O'Connell. Mr. Tate, 2-204?" Kit said, the chip making its way to the edge of her shoulder and aiming it's Uzi at Delilah. Delilah cocked her head and smiled.
"That's my first class too. Come on, I'll show you the way."
Kit took a deep breath and smiled. "Sure."
She found a seat in the back of the class, next to a girl in black. She pulled out her sketchbook and a pencil and watched as the elderly Mr. Tate walked in. Just as the bell was ringing, a last student hurried through the door and walked to the last seat, in front of the goth girl, looking down at his feet self-consciously. The boy looked down at his lap and pressed a wad of toilet paper to his nose. It came away bloody.
"Very smooth, Casey," drawled the goth girl.
"Morning to you too, Stokely," said Casey in a muffled voice, squeezing his blue eyes shut. 'Very pretty blue eyes,' mused Kit, fumbling in her messenger bag for a pack of tissues. She pulled it out and reached across the aisle, tapping Casey on the shoulder with the corner of it. He took it shyly and mouthed, "Thank you." He turned back and hunched over his books, pulling out another tissue and pressing it to his nose. She heard him use a very naughty word that she never would have thought he'd say, but seeing as this looked like a regular event, she figured it was expected. She studied his face with a practiced eye and slowly opened her sketchbook. Her pencil flew over the page as she sketched Casey, then Stokely, then Delilah and wrote their names underneath their pictures. Kit was horrible with names. Then she went back and drew a second sketch of Casey, this time with the wad of tissues to his nose. Suddenly she heard a voice over her shoulder.
"Hey," said Stokely. "That's pretty good."
"Thank you," replied Kit.
"Hey Casey, come over here."
Sniff. "What?"
"Christ, Casey, it's you."
Casey got up and walked to Kit's desk and looked down at the sketchbook. His blue eyes widened.
"That's really good," he said softly.
"Yeah, no shit Casey," muttered Stokely, "It's fucking brilliant."
"Thank you," said Kit as the bell rang. They all turned back to their respective desks and gathered up their things to go to their next class.
--- --- ---
Well? Okay, those of you who know me know that I don't talk like that normally, it's just for the sake of the fic. Please review. I'm crazy, I know, and yes, I do think those blue eyes are completely GORGEOUS.
Chapter: The Newest Victim of Herrington High
Author: Lea of Mirkwood
Disclaimer: I don't own the Faculty. I only own Kit.
September 1, 1998, Herrington High, Ohio.
Herrington High was a normal high school. There was the popular bunch, which, predictably, consisted of the football team and their cheerleaders. There was the goths, the druggies, the dropouts, the geeks/scapegoats, and the A-students. The popular ones loved school, because of their superiority. Everyone else hated it.
The student parking lot was filled with the usual piece of crap cars. As Kit pulled up in the parking lot, Elton John's "Saturday Night's All Right For Fighting," blaring from her speakers, she glanced at the rusting busses, painted with "GO HORNETS!!!" on the side on the school's red and gold. Kit parked her fading blue convertible in the back of the parking lot, next to the football field. She turned off the motor and sat there for a moment, staring at the football team. She followed their progress as they moved through the parking lot and past the bus loop, knocking the line of students getting off the bus sideways. She sighed and looked down at her backpack.
"Oh well."
She opened the driver's side door and got out, ruefully grinning at the sound of screeching tires. A black car with red stripes sped in and pulled around diagonally and parked, taking up three parking spaces. Kit ran her fingers through her chocolate colored hair and slung her bag over her shoulder. She watched as an older, black-haired guy got out of the badly parked car and opened his trunk. She walked past, smirking at him.
"Wow. You've turned shitty parking into an art form," she said derisively. He smiled at her, in a rude sort of way. A few other boys gravitated towards the car, and a furtive exchange of money for porn was made. Kit snorted.
"Jesus, it's like moths to a flame!" she called back. "Bzzzt! Guys to porn!"
She ignored whatever reaction they displayed and walked on towards the school. Kit pulled her rectangular framed glassed out of her pocket and put them on, kicking a beer can along before her carelessly. She was an average girl, seventeen. Brown-haired, green-eyed and tall, she looked innocent enough, with her always grinning eyes, and her wide smile, but what people usually didn't see was the chip on her shoulder, the chip that carried a Uzi. Kit was very odd. She preferred "free-spirited." Katherine O'Connell walked into Herrington High.
--- --- ---
Kit looked down at her schedule.
"2-204, 2-204, 2-204.....where the fuck is 2-204?"
"Hi, are you new here? Welcome to Herrington High!"
Kit counted to three, considering the merits of finding class versus turning around and asking whoever it was if they had a cat in their pants. She decided class was more important and turned around.
"I truly hope you enjoy it here. I'm Delilah Profitt. Need help finding your class?" asked the trendy girl in front of her, with a practiced expression of welcoming firmly pasted on her Estee Lauder face.
"Kit O'Connell. Mr. Tate, 2-204?" Kit said, the chip making its way to the edge of her shoulder and aiming it's Uzi at Delilah. Delilah cocked her head and smiled.
"That's my first class too. Come on, I'll show you the way."
Kit took a deep breath and smiled. "Sure."
She found a seat in the back of the class, next to a girl in black. She pulled out her sketchbook and a pencil and watched as the elderly Mr. Tate walked in. Just as the bell was ringing, a last student hurried through the door and walked to the last seat, in front of the goth girl, looking down at his feet self-consciously. The boy looked down at his lap and pressed a wad of toilet paper to his nose. It came away bloody.
"Very smooth, Casey," drawled the goth girl.
"Morning to you too, Stokely," said Casey in a muffled voice, squeezing his blue eyes shut. 'Very pretty blue eyes,' mused Kit, fumbling in her messenger bag for a pack of tissues. She pulled it out and reached across the aisle, tapping Casey on the shoulder with the corner of it. He took it shyly and mouthed, "Thank you." He turned back and hunched over his books, pulling out another tissue and pressing it to his nose. She heard him use a very naughty word that she never would have thought he'd say, but seeing as this looked like a regular event, she figured it was expected. She studied his face with a practiced eye and slowly opened her sketchbook. Her pencil flew over the page as she sketched Casey, then Stokely, then Delilah and wrote their names underneath their pictures. Kit was horrible with names. Then she went back and drew a second sketch of Casey, this time with the wad of tissues to his nose. Suddenly she heard a voice over her shoulder.
"Hey," said Stokely. "That's pretty good."
"Thank you," replied Kit.
"Hey Casey, come over here."
Sniff. "What?"
"Christ, Casey, it's you."
Casey got up and walked to Kit's desk and looked down at the sketchbook. His blue eyes widened.
"That's really good," he said softly.
"Yeah, no shit Casey," muttered Stokely, "It's fucking brilliant."
"Thank you," said Kit as the bell rang. They all turned back to their respective desks and gathered up their things to go to their next class.
--- --- ---
Well? Okay, those of you who know me know that I don't talk like that normally, it's just for the sake of the fic. Please review. I'm crazy, I know, and yes, I do think those blue eyes are completely GORGEOUS.