Well, it hasn't been /too/ long since I updated this, now has it? Thanks to my "new" beta Cyber Ghost. She was new waaaay back when I originally wrote this chapter. But now I suppose she isn't. Yeah. Okay. More Junior- angsting, coming right up!
The rest of the day would only be recalled as a long blur of pain.
The teacher's lessons seemed to stretch for years, her voice a dull drone in Junior's head. He paid little attention to what she was saying, choosing to instead wallow in a vat of self-pity. He poked a pencil around on his desk with one hand, the other cupping his chin, propped up on his elbow. He was deep in pensive thought, mulling over the previous events of the day.
Through the soft cloud of musings, he could hear children whispering all around him, his paranoia leading him to believe that every conversation involved negative comments about him. He winced, curling up in his seat and trying to become less noticeable. Why? Why did everyone hate him so?
Junior clenched his fists tightly, abandoning his pencil to fold his arms rigidly against himself. He just wanted the day to be over. He was sick of the school already. No one liked him. Everyone was out to hurt him, to bring him down. He felt, deep down in his greenish colored organs, that he'd never fit in with anyone. He convinced himself he was fated to be an outcast for eternity. Everyone else seemed to think so. Why shouldn't he?
A sharp, brief pain in the back of his neck dragged him from his thoughts. He dared to bring a stiff arm away from his sides to investigate. Fingers wandering, he found a small, untwisted paper clip buried in the folds of his collar. Turning his head ever so slightly, he glanced briskly out of the corner of his eye to the children seated behind him.
A large, broad shouldered boy caught his gaze, a sneer upon his shapeless face. "What are you looking' at, freak?" he hissed sharply, flicking another paperclip in Junior's direction. The son of Nergal winced, turning abruptly to face forward again. The little clip hit the back of his ear with deadly accuracy, and Junior couldn't hold back a soft yelp of surprise and pain.
The classroom fell into silence, and the teacher turned around fiercely, dropping her pointer with an ear-splitting crack to glare at him. Junior felt embarrassment burning his cheeks, and he sunk lower into his chair, wishing he could just disappear.
"Junior," she stated angrily, purple veins making themselves known in her already tight neck, "Please try to keep the noise /to a minimum!/" She stressed the last words almost painfully, indication that she may have mentioned it some time before.
Embarrassment stemmed into anger, and Junior found himself equally pissed.
"I didn't do anything," he said tersely, voice soft and low, "At least not anything that could've possibly been disruptive enough to hinder your lesson."
The teacher's wrinkled brow twitched, her mouth puckering. "... what was that?" she hissed, her voice gaining a hard note, equally dangerous A ripple of "ooo's" washed through the classroom, daring Junior to continue. He frowned, suddenly feeling intimidated.
"...nothing..." he muttered angrily, swinging his eyes to the ground. But his teacher refused to let this one go. She strode swiftly from the front of the classroom to Junior's desk, a multitude of eyes following her. Bending lightly over him, huge golden hoop earrings dangling in his face, she repeated herself.
"What did you say, Junior?" Her breath was sour and hot on his face. "If it was a threat..." She let her own warning hover. Silence followed, thick and heavy as a quilt. Everyone appeared to be holding their breath, although a select few dared to whisper their predictions to each other.
Finally, Junior raised his lime-green eyes to meet her pruned-up ones. He narrowed them, his lip curling slightly to reveal his yellowish fangs.
"I was merely expressing my sudden pain," he said carefully, slowly. "I... I'm sorry you're so intent on impaling our small minds with meaningless information that you cannot tolerate even the smallest of noises."
She seemed a bit taken back by the cold sharpness of his words, her back straightening suddenly. When she finally recovered, she was literally shaking with anger.
"This 'meaningless information' is what's going to get you graduated from high school, young man. This 'meaningless information' is what's going to help you get a job. This 'meaningless information' is what's going to help you make something out of your otherwise pathetic adult life!" She was all but screaming. "If I'm 'impaling your mind so intently', then why don't you take your pain stricken self out of here, right to the principal's office? You have no right to speak to me so disrespectfully!"
"I was only telling you the truth," Junior responded softly, once again lowering his frown to the carpeting.
"To the office!" she repeated sternly, stabbing a finger towards the door. He stood up slowly, his eyes still glued to the ground, and silently made his way out of the classroom. With him washed out the dark, uncomfortable cloud of hostility, and the class slowly returned to normal.
"Jerk," a blonde haired girl muttered, receiving a few laughs and murmurs of agreement.
Every tick the clock sounded seemed to be amplified to a clap of thunder in the dead silence. Its blank white face leered down on the empty room, smug in its holier than thou positioning high on the wall. No witty, pro- education posters were tacked to the gray walls in the room. Only glossy wooden plaques proudly bearing golden words of the school's achievements.
Junior shifted nervously in the cushioned stool outside the door to the principal's office, his eyes restless. Twice his foot slipped from the bar connecting the two legs of the chair, his boots thumping loudly against the floor and making him wince, despite himself. He anxiously scanned the room, searching for a distraction from the sickening bile squirming around in his stomach.
Trophies littered one desk in the far right corner, opposite the one Junior occupied. A large picture window poured sunlight down upon them, their carefully polished surfaces gleaming majestically with pride. Above them were many framed certificates of greatness, bearing spidery blue designs around their boarders and bold, capital letters proclaiming the school's wonderful education program.
The school was bloated with it's own thoughts of greatness, so sickeningly conceited in itself. It was no place of such excellence. It was Hell. Not in a literal sense, as Hell wasn't such a bad place, at least not for him. Maybe for the damned human souls it was, but for the son of Nergal this school was his damnation.
He slowly scanned over each item in the cold, emotionally empty room. Display cases, bookshelves, abandoned secretary desks... file cabinets, announcement system... all dead. Nothing in the room felt alive. No source of comfort was made for him. Only icy cold rejection.
Beyond the door, he could hear the conversation between his parents and the principal, although the thick wall muffled their voices, distorting them to mere hums. The principal's voice was a deep, droning rumble, his words slurring into each other. His father's was also deep, but powerful, not dull. His mother's, a monotone rasp.
Junior could almost hear the sympathy and remorse in the principal's mumblings. He winced, curling his fingers tightly into the wood of the chair. What were they talking about? Could someone have reported his incident with Piff? Surely his father wouldn't be pleased with such an act. It was too desperate, too low, even for the lonely god.
Frustration and impatience flooded through Junior's chest, tightening it to an uncomfortable level of tension. He could feel his tentacles pressing through his skin and against the fabric of his clothes, yearning to make themselves known. He was forced to swallow his paranoia, smother his guilt so as to keep the extra appendages in check. Slowly, he felt them drawing themselves back in, slick and poreless against his human flesh.
He sighed heavily, trying to focus his mind on other things. If he allowed himself to get too emotional, he could become quite... destructive. It had been proven before. He narrowed his eyes at the ground, painful memories of winter camp surfacing again. How foolish he'd been. How weak. How gullible. And he still hadn't learned.
Yay. Does anyone even visit this section anymore?