You know what the hardest thing about posting a new story is for me? The whole process, the incessant checking of my Inbox, the anxiety... I can't help but think that this time, I'll definitely get a flame. But I think that even all of that is worth it. Is this what it means to be a writer? Or obsessive? I'm not entirely sure, but I've gotten this far, right? My babbling has gone on long enough.
Disclaimer: I don't own Fruits Basket, but hey, life's still good.
The annual school trip is an important facet of our school civilization. It marks a hiatus in learning, a breather from the "rigors" of academic life. There are the trips to the museum, to the aquarium, the learning-based places that are reputable for being sources of harmless, productive fun. But to crown these exciting days, one of leisure is planned. Last year, we went to the beach. Of course, one girl broke her leg, two guys stepped on glass, needing stitches, and others sustained serious injuries.
Oh, but really, it was a rollicking good time.
The school nurse, teachers, and the student council had to step in to untangle the fiasco and apologize to the parents of the injured.
But other than that, what a splendid idea!
Sarcasm is a form of humor, correct? And everyone says I have no comedic prowess in me.
So it is evident why I'm against these diversions from learning. It's too much of an effort to go through year after year, especially with such a large number of students in attendance.
To mark the end of my presidency, such a trip was scheduled. It was vouched by students and faculty alike, and I had no choice but to bend this one and final time.
A suggestion box was presented to each grade level. This alteration from last year, that the class president of the third-years was the only one who could pick the place for the school trip, was enacted by Mrs. Urashima, who told me that everyone deserves a chance to be heard. I agreed whole-heartedly, but I had to wonder... If people like Momiji were able to be heard, and if such a person's destination was picked...
I shuddered to think of the consequences.
But it wasn't my place to object. Children are to obey their betters. Underclassmen must respect their upperclassmen. It's simply the cycle of life, the natural order of things.
So I offered no word of complaint, especially when every suggestion box was presented to my council mates and me.
Dozens of suggestions were read.
The amusement park!
The beach! (Oh, really now!)
Harajuku!
Jeju Island! (I believe some idiot thought that there were actually enough FUNDS for this???)
Through the outlandish scribblings on the pieces of folded paper, I came across Yuki's suggestion. (I'd recognize his handwriting anywhere; no characters could've been written so precisely, in such a noble, neat, beautiful way.)
School picnic.
To some, this would've sounded too commonplace, but it was the best idea anyone had come up with. I mean, Tohru cane up with the "bright" idea of going to the zoo. (Tohru's handwriting is wobbly and uncertain, matching her persona, as if she were apologetic for writing it. She should have been. What an elementary suggestion!)
And so the trip's destination was picked: Umemura Park.
The day couldn't have been more picturesque. The sky was a limpid blue, barely a cloud to mar its surface. When such an intruder dared cross the burning marigold sun, the sky sent a huge shadow of a slightly darker tint than itself. The wind was neither too demanding nor too much of a pushover. Peach blossoms poured a delicious fragrance into the breeze.
"I must commend you once again for choosing such a gorgeous site for our picnic!" I couldn't help but gush to the profound presence next to me, the stately successor for presidency. I must admit, catching him by the arm and hauling the delicate boy to the front of the line was out of line and entirely too forward of me, but I had to intervene. That loathsome orange-headed boy was provoking my Yuki! How else could I have solicited his attention?
Yuki looked perturbed as he swung his gaze away from mine, his eyes like irises diamonded by a spring rain. "It was nothing," he replied in his flawless, feather-delicate voice, bringing two fingers to the pinkish-red mark on his cheek that was almost the exact shape as a strawberry. But unlike the delicate fruit, this wound had been anything but sweet. That ruffian, I had to think while glaring at that boy. He will pay dearly for this.
I felt another presence dominate my right. I glared at the female presence turning us into a Yuki sandwich.
Curse her for turning my beloved prince into a common food supply!
"Hey, Yuki." The lazy, rough-sounding, tomboyish, streets-hardened, eardrums-breaking (is that enough descriptions?) greeting floated from Arisa Uotani's sullied mouth as she seized him roughly by the arm. To the startled Prince, she barreled on. "Don't hang round this guy too long. His stupidity might be contagious. And he's a total dork, but you didn't need me to tell you, huh?" She tilted her head back and laughed.
Seething, I snapped, "Arisa Uotani! I'll have you know, I am fully aware of the fact that you skipped school yesterday. I could have you expelled like that." To emphasize my point, I snapped my fingers in triumph with a smirk. "And I am not an idiot, nor am I, to use the term you coined, a "dork", so do not refer to me as such."
"Yes," an eerily soothing but entirely blood-freezing intonation sounded from Arisa's side. "I sense very strange waves coming from this boy. He is way too strict. Despite his needing to lighten up, deep feeling love love waves are radiating from him for—"
Blushing, I snapped her sentence in two. "Lighten up indeed!" My voice wobbled like a child's first bike ride without training wheels. "And speaking of which, Saki Hanajima, might I suggest that you lighten up those nails of yours? Your black nail polish is in violation of the school uniform! Shall I call your parents to address this manner? I doubt they would be pleased."
"You are not, boy, the principal," Saki intoned. I swear her eyes glowed twilight purple as a weird, unpleasant electric sensation spread through all of my limbs. "Shall I teach you a lesson?"
"Count me in," the ruffian Yankee said, but she sounded as if she were speaking into a coffee can. Everything and everyone seemed far away. My soul felt far away.
"You're a scary girl, Hana," a deep voice told the gothic girl. Hatsuharu Sohma slid over to his handsome cousin. "Is this idiot bothering you, Yuki?" he asked with a hand on the boy's shoulder. I couldn't help spotting the illegal spiked bracelet embracing Hatsuharu's wrist, but before I could offer a good reprimand, Arisa cheered, "Hey, let's go find Tohru! This guy's so boring!"
Like some crazed hot air balloon, they floated jerkily back to Tohru and Kyo, dragging Yuki with them as if he were some dangling sand bag.
That was very rude!
We were talking!
He appeared to be relieved, but that had to be for their benefit!
Right?
Suppressing the sinking feeling in my stomach that that wasn't the case, I announced, "This is the perfect spot. Let's set up the equipment here."
A kitten-fur-soft tone graced my ears. "Um, actually, that spot is covered in mud." Yuki pointed to a clearing a few yards away. "Over there might be better."
"Of course, of course! Please, Yuki, excuse my ignorance," I blared as I zoomed to the grassy hill. In all honesty, it was a better spot. The view was lovely from the curved land form. Sunshine favored the direction he'd indicated, like thick braids from a golden-haired duchess flowing down.
"Great choice, Yuuukkkkiiiii! You always make the best choices!" A gaggle (and I emphasize gag, ha ha) of schoolgirls with soft dreamy voices had formed a ring around him, a hula hoop that he surely didn't want orbiting his waist. Motoko and her girls were a drop in the lake of star struck faces. The ringleader had indeed spent the better part of her morning preening in a mirror, donning THE SAME ANNOYING PIGTAILS as Minami, only hers were tied with lacy pink bows bound behind her ears.
(By the way, those pink ribbons in no way whatsoever even tried to match her uniform.)
If that sneaky little harlot thought she could enchant the Prince with those tasteless hair adornments, she had another thing coming.
But before I could rush back to scold her, a group of teachers (and you thought we were embarking on this trip unsupervised, what, with the Beach Incident still fresh in memory) and students began setting up the blankets. Coolers and picnic baskets began their descent on the stretches of cloth.
The mob of students was only a small ring in the miles-long chain of high school students, and I breathed a sigh of relief when reflecting on the fact that there was only one grade level to deal with. Despite this being a school outing, such a large population cannot possibly be adequately protected in one place. Therefore, the three grade levels were at different places. The first-years were at Star Park, we were at Umemura Park, and the third-years were at Achika Point. The third-years were allowed to go to a park that was framed by a beach, but they're older and thus rule the lower classes, so their destination was more extravagant.
There were a few interlopers here (Momiji and Hatsuharu are NOT second-years, as well as some girls I could mention), but their presence was tolerated because they were not a threat to the well-being of others. When I spotted them on the bus, I had informed the teachers, but they didn't seem to care. I will have to come back here when I become a teacher and enforce stricter rules.)
Nothing extraordinary happened between this moment and the time that we stationed ourselves on blankets or under trees. I sat with my council mates, discussing the brilliant reign Yuki will spill onto this polluted school. My friends congratulated me on my long term. As modestly as I could, I told them that they were indispensable to this educational society, and that, yes, I have accomplished many great feats.
(But I have lost two major battles: Momiji still flounces about in the girls uniform and Hatsuharu still refuses to remove his damaging jewelry and let his piercings close. Even now, those blue shorts cry shrilly under the flaps of Momiji's female-tailored shirt. It's as bad as if he were actually sporting the skirt. However, if it were Yuki… The point is, I've failed miserably in conforming them into my ideal—the school's ideal.)
But I don't like to dwell on my failures. Yuki will atone for every wrong I have committed, and there are not many difficulties. He will not let us down!
And I will not let any troubles come to pass on this trip.
That is my solemn vow, the only thing I can do as a president with a dying term.