Chapter 15: One of Those Times...Or Not
The door shut close with a loud bang and they could hear the sound of an earthquake crumbling the floors. This meant only one thing—Reaper had teleported away, instead of walking like he should be. What. A. Brat.
Anyway, the sound was common; so many ghouls had that ability and they used it almost every day, either when they were running late or just plain lazy. And with it being school, the usage of the strange power was at the extremes. Naturally, nobody minded the sound.
It was a sad fact, considering it was also against the rules. They could only use it during Tactical Scaring at the very least...
"What a guy, eh?" sighed Professor Corpse after a beat. He rubbed his hands together imploringly, turning his attention to the broken chalkboard. "Well, this needs to be replaced..."
Professor Finkelstein glanced at him. "Just use a spell...it should work."
"Oh, dear. I don't remember how long it's been since the last time I used one of those..."
"It's basic."
"Alright, alright, I'm on it..."
While everyone else watched, transfixed, as their seemingly laid-back Historical Halloween-slash-Art teacher carefully muttered a few indecipherable words under his breath, causing the sharp pieces on the floor to glow black, Finkelstein glared at his daughter. And, as if she knew someone was watching her, she turned her head away from the shards dancing gracefully in the air as they slowly formed the chalkboard in a puzzlesque like manner and met her father's intense gaze.
Oh, shoot...
"Does everyone feel up to learning?" called out Corpse when he was done, brushing his hands on the sides of his pants. He was met by another awkward silence.
"Of course they can learn," snapped the older professor in response, crossing his arms. "That was just a little distraction. Nothing major enough to bother them."
Oogie opened his mouth—no doubt to come back with a smart reply—but was instantly shut up with a sharp hiss from Jack. He nodded unsurely.
"Okay, then. Could you please turn to page six-hundred and thirteen of the history? Leave the symbols alone; we're not doing that just yet..."
And finally, the room was filled with sound once more. Textbooks were being opened, pages flapping and ripping, and students whispered to one another about book-sharing or just random babbles. Sally was about to retrieve her own text when Finkelstein cleared his throat.
"Sally, gather your belongings and come with me, please."
He said it low enough that she—and maybe one or two others from the first row—could hear without making a big hassle of things. She swallowed nervously, but complied all the same.
Finkelstein, after giving a curt nod to his colleague, left. At least, it seemed that way. Sally gave a defeated sigh as she finished packing her things and securing them in her bag. She stood up, careful not to draw any unwanted attention from her classmates. It didn't seem that hard of a task; they were either too busy arguing what page number the teacher gave ("He said thirteen!" "No, moron, it was three hundred!" "I heard page five!" "What the hell? He didn't even say five!" "That's 'cause you didn't hear it!") or swapping tidbits of gossip between themselves while waiting for most to catch up.
The rag-doll touched the cool handle of the door and pushed it open. Halfway outside, she glanced behind her at the teacher.
Would he care of she just left...?
Fortunately—or perhaps unfortunately—Corpse saw her before she could sneak off and grinned. "Go ahead. We're just covering the Halloween Battle of 1366. Nothing you don't already know."
That immediately grabbed all the other students' attention. They were silent for a second before recalling what had been said earlier—Sally Finkelstein was a genius. A school board-acknowledged one at that.
The whispers began.
"—is she for real? I heard a rumor about someone like that, but I didn't think it was her!"
"—she's so quiet, how could we know—?"
"—I'm jealous, I wish I was that smart—"
"—brains and a hot body! The Boogie Man likes..."
'Kill me,' she thought desperately as she slipped out of the room, almost giving in to her desire to slam the door shut, 'kill me now.'
But she was a good girl. At least, she was supposed to be, and so no, she did not slam anything shut.
...
That was it, wasn't it?
Supposed.
She was supposed to be a genius. She was supposed to be beautiful. She was supposed to be freaking perfect.
She was supposed to be what Finkelstein wanted her to be.
Because she was just a rag-doll. An experiment that actually worked. Feelings and emotions were just mistakes, no doubt a glitch of sorts. If the Doctor could have made her without them, he surely would have.
And she'd be what he always wanted:
A pawn. A stupid, meaningless pawn with no sense of purpose in life other than to be displayed as some sort of first-class invention to strangers. And she'd have to take it with a smile.
A big, happy, fake smile that could never hold a candle to what she really felt. What she really thought.
Her life...was never going to change, was it?
"Jealous," she murmured to herself as she finally began to move. Distinctly, the chatter from her classroom was still audible. If she tried, it would not be hard to hear what they were saying at all. But she didn't want to. She didn't want to hear anymore. Not now. So she walked. The staircases were grand and beautiful, set at the center of the main hallway on each floor. If one was lazy—or perhaps running late—they could simply hop onto a platform and yell out the room number and poof! They'd be there. Considering Sally was trying to prolong the inevitable (again), she took her time slowly descending the cool, black marble steps.
For some reason, it made her think of Jack's eyes...
...or lack thereof.
"Okay, so here's what happened in this war: there were two teams—or groups...or somethings. Huh? Yeah? Cool. On one side—the stupid one—there're the really lame guys, with those pumpkin-faced losers who were really weak and probably sucked big time. I hate them already, by the way. Then, there were these amazing Boogie-Man-tribe-kinda people. Clearly, since they were just plain awesome and controlled the whole bug population, they were on their way to winning, right? RIGHT. But the other turds cheated and used Dark Flames and BOOM. Killed the bug monsters on the spot. It was a cheap shot, duh. So they pretty much burned my group down—lame!—and that was how the war ended. With stupid Pumpkin Kings instead of Bug Masters and Jack as the Prince. The-freaking-end."
The class sat in wary silence for a while before Jack (ironically enough) began the applause, which actually lasted a bit longer than necessary. But oh, well...
Such was life...
Er...after-life.
Professor Corpse only sighed, rubbing his face with his hands and letting his forehead meet the podium several times. At this point, he only blamed himself for calling on the burlap sack.
"Well, even though you just butchered up the most significant event in our history, you did summarize the main points... Any other thoughts to add to that?"
Jack raised his hand. "So if the Pumpkin Demons never found the Black Flames, we'd be under Oogie's rule?" The class collectively shuddered. Even the Boogie Man, although his was mostly out of pure delight.
"It...I suppose it's possible, although you have to take into account all the other groups who could have tried to overthrow the Bug Masters. But yes, if nobody else had overpowered them, then Mr. Boogie would be our...ruler..." The teacher faltered at the last part, wrinkling his nose at the idea of being under Oogie Boogie's reign. Not a good mental image. He was sure he'd probably murder himself the first chance he got, despite the law of being undead.
"So if I kill Jack, I get to be king?"
"I didn't say t—"
"YO, SKELL! I CHALLENGE YOU TO A FIGHT TO THE DEATH! WINNER TAKES ALL!"
"I would, but I'd rather not make a mess of you on the walls—"
"WINNER ALSO GETS SALLY!"
"Mr. Boogie, get down from your desk!"
"YOU DARE BRING MY LADY INTO THIS? A FIGHT IT SHALL BE!"
"Mr. Skellington, off your's, too!"
"Fight! Fight! Fight!"
Podium...meet Professor Corpse's face.
Repeatedly.
As nice as it was sitting in the comfort of her room, Sally couldn't help but wish she was doing chores instead. Because if she was doing something, her mind would be focused on getting her job done. It would be as silent as she could get it to be.
But now wasn't one of those times.
"Why put yourself out there for that wretched skeleton boy? I said to always treat your teacher with respect and leave the others alone! Mind your own business! You're lucky it was only Reaper who you mouthed off to! If it was the chairman—or, or a Scholar, the consequences would be much more severe!"
She could hear the pitter-patter of raindrops outside. Drip. Drip. Drip.
"I made you to be the perfect student. A child I wouldn't mind calling my own. Do you want me to doubt that? Do you want me to put you back where you belong? In a cell with only cobwebs to talk to?"
Thunder. When she was born, there was thunder. And rain. And a flash of light.
And it hurt.
"You've become foolish, Sally. Don't delude yourself with friendship. It's unnecessary. If you stick up for your 'friends' and you lose everything for them, they will not help you back up. In fact, they'll just make sure you can't stand anymore."
She buried her face into her only pillow.
Tap-tap-tap.
The wind must be making the branches of a tree scrape against her window. It sounded oddly comforting...
TAP-TAP-TAP-TAP!
Wait...
There were no trees in her yard!
"What the—?"
And when she had finally jumped out of the comfort of her bed, less than gracefully scrambling to the window that stretched almost half her room in length, she pulled the curtains apart and was met face-to-face with a grinning Jack Skellington
Déjà vu.
"Hey!" he greeted brightly as he was let in, landing gracefully on his small feet. Water droplets clung to his skull and his entire body was soaked through.
"Hi..." Her voice wavered as she headed to her closet to retrieve a towel, which she tossed to him. She managed to steal a glance at her reflection as she passed her tiny, shattered mirror and was glad that she looked at least somewhat decent, albeit very tired. Plus, it was odd...she didn't even seem to be fazed by his presence. Especially considering the—ah—circumstances.
"Some day, huh?" commented Jack with his usual chipper voice, accepting the cloth and wiping his face with it. He stripped off his jacket, which had clearly bore most of the weather's attacks considering his shirt was perfectly dry.
"Mmm," was the noncommittal sound he received in response.
"Me and Oogie had a fight in class today," continued the skeletal prince matter-of-factly, "but we had to stop when we broke the board again."
"How did that—?"
"A chair."
"A...wait, you know that the desks are stuck to the seats, right?"
"I know."
"Then I guess I don't want to..."
"Probably not," he laughed with a shrug, waltzing over to her bed and sitting down. It should have bothered her that he was much too comfortable crashing into her room than he should have been, but at this moment, her mind was elsewhere and she overlooked the fact.
"What's wrong?" Jack questioned, tilting his head to the side. "Did you get sick?"
The worry in his tone made her want to flinch. Her stomach twisted and she wondered if maybe she was.
And why wasn't she a blushing mess yet? Shouldn't it be normal to be nervous when her boyfriend was around?
At the thought of the word, she did flinch.
"You okay, Sal?"
I'm different now. You know it. You know who I really am, who I'm not.
Stop pretending.
Her fists clenched.
Up until this moment, her emotions had been kept in check. They were hidden well. Forgotten. Controlled.
So why was she angry now then, and in front of Jack, no less? No, wait. Why was she angry at the sight of him—because of him—the knowledge that he was there?
Why did his face make her...conflicted? Upset?
What happened?
"Sally?"
"I'm fine," she hissed unknowingly, eyes prickling. She wanted to cry. Truly. When was the last time, anyway, that she did?
But no, that wouldn't work. Shedding tears was useless. Stupid.
Weak.
Oh-so-absolutely weak!
Jack could be a flirt at times. He could act like a complete fool with his friends and annoy his teachers with such skill and precision that it must be a profession. At the same time, he knew when to be serious, when not to laugh everything off and grin like a champion.
Now was one of those times.
A/N: Wow. At the end, I couldn't do a long chapter. I just know it would ruin the plot.
And speaking of plot, I don't know what just happened here! I have this scene that I need to do at some point (hopefully in the near future) but these last few chapters have been leading me away from it. Heheheheh. It's basically taking a detour in my non-existent road-trip of...uh, fanfiction. Yeah...
Sorry for my random updating. I planned on doing this last week, but so many things came up over the weekend. Oh, and finals. Ugh.
And uh-oh, what's up, Sally? Don't ya love Jack~? 'Course ya do! But we do need some conflict...
Thanks so much for reviews! It lets me know if I'm slipping, and honestly, I think I am. I mean, last chapter was such a fail. ;P
The next few might be a little bit more angsty than usual. But teenagers need 'em...so sorry Nightmare guys!
Okay, this is so long. Dunno why...
Thanks again, everyone! I'll try to update ASAP~!
Ciao!