Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters...etc. from Blood and
Chocolate. I could only dream of being so talented. Hellix and
Creative_Insanity are kinda what you'd call co-creators.
Anyway, I'm here to bore you with another chapter, not that anyone except for Hellix cares. Thanks for the overwhelming amount of reviews to go from. **cough cough** For those of you out there who are rather slow, what I just said is called sarcasm. That's right. I've gotten THREE, count them THREE reviews, and one of them doesn't really count seeing as I sank to a new level of patheticness by reviewing myself. Please don't make me feel that bad again. **sniff sniff** This is just thirty years of therapy waiting to happen. I can see it now: "I was abused and neglected..." Anyway, enough of my pity-party. On with the show...
Chapter Two: Back to School Blues
Brooke slipped into the World History class room two minutes tardy clutching her pink late pass from the front office. The teacher's back was to her. His aged and wrinkled hand was writing some dates on the board. He heard the door close behind Brooke and turned his bald head around on his rounded shoulders to peer at her through his thick, over-sized spectacles that magnified his eyes to twice their natural size. She held out her pass to him. He held it to his nose and squinted his eyes to make out the fine print.
"Ah, yes," he said in a shaky voice. He lifted a feeble finger and pointed it toward the back of the room. "Please take a seat behind Miss Helena." She followed his feeble finger to a girl in the next to last row with sandy blond hair. She was bent over a piece of paper and was scribbling furiously away on it, and Brooke was certain she wasn't taking notes. The entire class looked asleep. A girl in the back corner was giving herself a pedicure, and the guy in front of that Helena-girl was drawing all over his arm. She sat down in her seat and took out her 'spy' note book and looked around the class again, inspecting each student thoroughly. Pedicure girl-no. The guy in front of her had a tough look except for the fact that his tattooed arms were supporting his sleepy head. Brooke went up and down the rows and didn't find anyone else until she came to one girl. Her dark brown hair had been artfully cut to seem like someone had just taken yard cutting shears to it. Her black shirt had more safety pins in it than Brooke could count, and her black combat boots came to her knees. Her red and black plaid skirt that came to about mid-thigh was bedecked with zippers. 'Werewolf' just screamed at her, and she put a big star next to her desk in the seating arrangement she had drawn up for herself. Then the bell rang. 'Mr. Corpse' seemed not to have noticed, but all of the class came to life. Brooke rose and looked down at her list. Two so far in this class. She peered down at the paper Helena-what's-her-face had been writing on.
The Changes of the Moon
The moon peeks.
Its belly full.
Skin to pelt.
Nails to claws... Helena grabbed her paper and stuffed it into her bag. How could she know that? Brooke puzzled. Maybe it's coincidence. But Brooke didn't think so. She took out pen and added a star next to Helena's desk.
Brooke sidled into AP Biology five minutes late. The whole class turned to look at her as she opened the door. She recognized the pedicure girl and a few other people from history. She noticed the safety-pin/zipper girl had black headphones draped around her neck, and Brooke could faintly hear the hard rock music Blain liked. She thought she recognized the song as 'Break Stuff'. The teacher looked up. Her pepper-gray hair was pulled severely back into a bun at the nape of her neck; not a single hair was out of place. Her narrow, rectangular spectacles balanced on the bridge of her nose as she looked Brooke up and down and frowned at her.
"May I help you?" she asked very stiffly. Brooke had the sudden urge to rip her to shreds but suppressed her wild nature. Brooke held out another pink slip (she had one for every class), and the teacher's spotlessly cleaned and well-kept hands daintily took the pink slip.
"A new student then. Well, we're having a test today. We'll see how much they taught you at that other school of yours. Have a seat next to Ms. Gandallion. Oh, and this is a major test grade." Bitch, Brooke thought. She didn't even bother to point out who ever this Gandal-whatever girl was. There was only one seat open, luckily, so she made her way toward it and slumped down into the hard, cold seat. Chase and his friend would definitely pay for this later.
After a very uneventful lunch of cold steak, she made her way to math. She had been determined not to be late for this class, but she hadn't planned on being 20 minutes early either. She made her way into the math classroom. It was no different than any other math classroom she had ever been in, so she took out history homework, not that she knew any of the answers. At about five minutes until the beginning class, people started to trickle into the classroom. A couple of people from history, two cheerleaders from biology, and a few people she hadn't seen yet, but none of them were werewolf material. Helena slinked though the door just as the bell rang and sat down across the room from Brooke. Ms. Gandal-whatever came in about 30 seconds behind Helena. She slipped her headphones off her ears and took the seat in front of Brooke. Brooke wished she could get a decent scent, but it was impossible when there were 25 kids in the room and almost all of the girls were wearing perfume. It was enough to make her head spin.
Finally, five minutes after the bell had rung, the door opened, and the teacher walked in. His tawny head was only a few inches from hitting the top of the door frame. He had good natured, but somewhat serious features. As he walked to the front of the room, Brooke could see his muscles ripple under his green polo shirt and khakis. His wide, muscular frame barely fit comfortably into his narrow desk chair. He was the spitting image of Chase's endless rantings. This was Brian. She wondered if he would recognize her from any of Chase's descriptions of her. She broke her eyes away and pulled out another pink slip from her back-pack, got up, handed it to him, and returned to her seat. He scanned the note.
"Brooke is it?" she nodded. He put the piece of paper onto his desk and stood up. "Well, you've chosen a great time to show up as we're still reviewing. This group of numbskulls doesn't have enough brains to fill a teaspoon. How any of you got into Advanced Calc, I'll never know." The cheerleaders giggled flirtatiously, some students laughed a bit, but on a whole, they didn't seem to want to waste their energy.
The class was reviewing logarithms, something Brooke was very good at, so she diverted her attention to her class mates. One other girl looked like she could be the stray, but Brooke highly doubted it. She made a note of it, however. Looks weren't everything. The rest of the class past dully enough, so Brooke just stared out the window thinking. Her next class was art, and again, Brooke had no idea where the hell it was. Helena was walking by her desk. "Hey! It's Helena, right?" Brooke asked, trying to be friendly. "Just Helen. I've been trying to get that through Mr. Copse's thick, bald head since the beginning of the year," she smiled bashfully. "Do you know where the art room is by any chance?" "Yeah, it's my next class. Come on. Ms. Greene's really nice, but she hates it if you're late."
Anyway, I'm here to bore you with another chapter, not that anyone except for Hellix cares. Thanks for the overwhelming amount of reviews to go from. **cough cough** For those of you out there who are rather slow, what I just said is called sarcasm. That's right. I've gotten THREE, count them THREE reviews, and one of them doesn't really count seeing as I sank to a new level of patheticness by reviewing myself. Please don't make me feel that bad again. **sniff sniff** This is just thirty years of therapy waiting to happen. I can see it now: "I was abused and neglected..." Anyway, enough of my pity-party. On with the show...
Chapter Two: Back to School Blues
Brooke slipped into the World History class room two minutes tardy clutching her pink late pass from the front office. The teacher's back was to her. His aged and wrinkled hand was writing some dates on the board. He heard the door close behind Brooke and turned his bald head around on his rounded shoulders to peer at her through his thick, over-sized spectacles that magnified his eyes to twice their natural size. She held out her pass to him. He held it to his nose and squinted his eyes to make out the fine print.
"Ah, yes," he said in a shaky voice. He lifted a feeble finger and pointed it toward the back of the room. "Please take a seat behind Miss Helena." She followed his feeble finger to a girl in the next to last row with sandy blond hair. She was bent over a piece of paper and was scribbling furiously away on it, and Brooke was certain she wasn't taking notes. The entire class looked asleep. A girl in the back corner was giving herself a pedicure, and the guy in front of that Helena-girl was drawing all over his arm. She sat down in her seat and took out her 'spy' note book and looked around the class again, inspecting each student thoroughly. Pedicure girl-no. The guy in front of her had a tough look except for the fact that his tattooed arms were supporting his sleepy head. Brooke went up and down the rows and didn't find anyone else until she came to one girl. Her dark brown hair had been artfully cut to seem like someone had just taken yard cutting shears to it. Her black shirt had more safety pins in it than Brooke could count, and her black combat boots came to her knees. Her red and black plaid skirt that came to about mid-thigh was bedecked with zippers. 'Werewolf' just screamed at her, and she put a big star next to her desk in the seating arrangement she had drawn up for herself. Then the bell rang. 'Mr. Corpse' seemed not to have noticed, but all of the class came to life. Brooke rose and looked down at her list. Two so far in this class. She peered down at the paper Helena-what's-her-face had been writing on.
The Changes of the Moon
The moon peeks.
Its belly full.
Skin to pelt.
Nails to claws... Helena grabbed her paper and stuffed it into her bag. How could she know that? Brooke puzzled. Maybe it's coincidence. But Brooke didn't think so. She took out pen and added a star next to Helena's desk.
Brooke sidled into AP Biology five minutes late. The whole class turned to look at her as she opened the door. She recognized the pedicure girl and a few other people from history. She noticed the safety-pin/zipper girl had black headphones draped around her neck, and Brooke could faintly hear the hard rock music Blain liked. She thought she recognized the song as 'Break Stuff'. The teacher looked up. Her pepper-gray hair was pulled severely back into a bun at the nape of her neck; not a single hair was out of place. Her narrow, rectangular spectacles balanced on the bridge of her nose as she looked Brooke up and down and frowned at her.
"May I help you?" she asked very stiffly. Brooke had the sudden urge to rip her to shreds but suppressed her wild nature. Brooke held out another pink slip (she had one for every class), and the teacher's spotlessly cleaned and well-kept hands daintily took the pink slip.
"A new student then. Well, we're having a test today. We'll see how much they taught you at that other school of yours. Have a seat next to Ms. Gandallion. Oh, and this is a major test grade." Bitch, Brooke thought. She didn't even bother to point out who ever this Gandal-whatever girl was. There was only one seat open, luckily, so she made her way toward it and slumped down into the hard, cold seat. Chase and his friend would definitely pay for this later.
After a very uneventful lunch of cold steak, she made her way to math. She had been determined not to be late for this class, but she hadn't planned on being 20 minutes early either. She made her way into the math classroom. It was no different than any other math classroom she had ever been in, so she took out history homework, not that she knew any of the answers. At about five minutes until the beginning class, people started to trickle into the classroom. A couple of people from history, two cheerleaders from biology, and a few people she hadn't seen yet, but none of them were werewolf material. Helena slinked though the door just as the bell rang and sat down across the room from Brooke. Ms. Gandal-whatever came in about 30 seconds behind Helena. She slipped her headphones off her ears and took the seat in front of Brooke. Brooke wished she could get a decent scent, but it was impossible when there were 25 kids in the room and almost all of the girls were wearing perfume. It was enough to make her head spin.
Finally, five minutes after the bell had rung, the door opened, and the teacher walked in. His tawny head was only a few inches from hitting the top of the door frame. He had good natured, but somewhat serious features. As he walked to the front of the room, Brooke could see his muscles ripple under his green polo shirt and khakis. His wide, muscular frame barely fit comfortably into his narrow desk chair. He was the spitting image of Chase's endless rantings. This was Brian. She wondered if he would recognize her from any of Chase's descriptions of her. She broke her eyes away and pulled out another pink slip from her back-pack, got up, handed it to him, and returned to her seat. He scanned the note.
"Brooke is it?" she nodded. He put the piece of paper onto his desk and stood up. "Well, you've chosen a great time to show up as we're still reviewing. This group of numbskulls doesn't have enough brains to fill a teaspoon. How any of you got into Advanced Calc, I'll never know." The cheerleaders giggled flirtatiously, some students laughed a bit, but on a whole, they didn't seem to want to waste their energy.
The class was reviewing logarithms, something Brooke was very good at, so she diverted her attention to her class mates. One other girl looked like she could be the stray, but Brooke highly doubted it. She made a note of it, however. Looks weren't everything. The rest of the class past dully enough, so Brooke just stared out the window thinking. Her next class was art, and again, Brooke had no idea where the hell it was. Helena was walking by her desk. "Hey! It's Helena, right?" Brooke asked, trying to be friendly. "Just Helen. I've been trying to get that through Mr. Copse's thick, bald head since the beginning of the year," she smiled bashfully. "Do you know where the art room is by any chance?" "Yeah, it's my next class. Come on. Ms. Greene's really nice, but she hates it if you're late."