[Conny]: 17 reviews? Thank you goes out to everyone that has followed this story and is being patient for it! You're much better than my other readers, honestly. But my special thanks goes to shadow, Marie King, totally loko x10, ForeignMusicLyrics, and kitty tokyo uzumaki for reviewing the last chapter. Really, I love you guys for leaving small comments for this story. They seem like small little words to you, but to me... it's like the world has been brightened.
Disclaimer: You know the proper owners of Speak, so shall we begin?
There is really no way a college student owns this house on his own. I don't care if he is going into science or politics, this is just beyond belief. The walls were white, without a single stain in sight. The windows are large, letting in sunlight to fill the rooms. The floors were solid hardwood, not a scuff to be seen. The ceiling was so high up, offering a more open atmosphere. There was art hanging on the walls and you could see part of the second floor from the living room. This house-mansion is just incredible.
me: "Just where in the world did you get the money to buy this house?" Redirecting college loans? Parents funding? The president recognizing his intellect? I must know.
David: "My parents made an agreement with a few people and this became my birthday present." I want his parents now. "Although, I had to bust my back to earn this house. It was worth it." So from here, he lead me around. The kitchen looked like something out of a catalog, marble top counters and what looks like bar-table and the bar stools to go with it, dark wood cabinets, a fancy stove and oven...I'm starting to get mad at how lavished he is living. Is this how he used to live before?
He brought me up the stairs and showed me around. There were two sets of bathrooms, which made things extremely convenient for the both of us. The guest bedroom looked similar to a master bedroom: big furniture, big bed, lush carpets and a window that looked out onto the street.
me: "This cannot be my room." David tugged my bags inside and placed them by the bed (which already had covers and everything).
David: "Yes, this is going to be your room. Unless, of course, you want to live somewhere else. I don't think a motel will live up to these standards." I always hated how he could easily twist people around his finger. But then again, without him...history class would have been the worst place to go to back in high school.
me: "I'm at least going to pay you back."
The next morning, I set my alarm so that I would wake up before him. I learned his kitchen quite quickly, and I got breakfast cooking by the time he came downstairs. He was merely in boxers and a loose tank top. I guess I figured out he's not a briefs kind of guy.
David: "What are you doing?" He is still obviously tired. Right now, I'm hopped up on caffeine and sugar. Thanks goes to coffee.
me: "Making breakfast." He sits down in one of the bar stools and watches me cook.
David: "Never did ace Gourmet class, back in high school." I remember when we had that class together. It was junior year and he nearly burned down the school because of his poor cooking skills. He became the teacher's worst enemy.
me: "I'm guessing you just eat toast for breakfast and peanut butter sandwiches for lunch?" I just realized, his stove looks almost completely unused. "Or maybe fast food?"
David: "I usually pick up a sandwich on my way to school." He's a college guy who has his own home? I'm pretty sure he has a job too. "And dinner usually comes from that Chinese joint down the road."
me: "Since I passed gourmet class, you can trust me to not burn down your house." He shrugged, still trying to shake sleep off his shoulders.
After placing a plateful of French toast and omelets down, tall glasses of OJ were gracefully poured out. The sunlight filtering through the windows and the warmth of the room reminded me of something in a movie. It's like there was a couple staying in a European villa-
David: "Hey, Melinda?" Huh, what? "Not that I don't enjoy your company or cooking, but why did you come back to Syracuse?"
me: "I'm being a student teacher, at least for a while." It's kind of difficult to travel from my dorm in NYC to here, so I'm using him. That actually sounded harsh. I'm... I can't think of a nicer word than "using."
David: "Teacher, really? For what?" I thought he was tired, but he's acting as though he was that boy back in high school. That intellectual, analytical guy who questioned everything.
me: "Just in the arts. I'm starting at Merryweather." He was hiding a smile, wonder why.
David: "I see." He was all done eating, just as I was about to finish. "Do you need a ride?"
me: "Are you going to offer me a ride in your Porsche?" His laugh filled the air. It was hard not to smile to him.
David: "Actually, it's a Corvette."
He wasn't joking when he said it was a Corvette. But it was more than just a Corvette. It was race-car red with soft leather seats and an engine that sang so sweetly. He took pride in saying that it was the '77 Corvette, the 'best of all.'
I swear, everyone is looking at us as we drive by.
me: "I never figured you would have this car." I believed he would go with a car like a Prius or something. Maybe a car that would be cheap and wouldn't be ruined in the winters. He knows Syracuse weather.
David: "This is just my summer car. I have a car for winter." I cannot believe him. "I'm kidding. I switch cars with my parents."
me: "That's believable." We stopped in the forbidden parking lot, the one only teachers use. Principal Principal still has his fancy duck mobile parked in its special place. The other vehicles obviously belong to the teachers: all of them are cheap trucks or minivans.
David: "Just call me when you're done here, okay?" He accidentally brushed my hand, but I pulled it away quick. I still don't like being touched. My head bobbed up and down, knowing words would fail somehow.
David: "If you need lunch, tell me." I shrugged then crawled out of his beloved corvette. Waving bye, he zoomed off in red hot heat.
Principal: "It's nice to know my student art teacher could make it in a timely manner." His floppy lips disgusted me. I should have reconsidered this school.
me: "I just punch in, right?" He took a deep, dramatic sigh. Maybe he was reminding himself of his failed dream in the theater.
We awkwardly walked into the old building together. Nostalgia overflowed, seeing the cracking walls and degraded furnishings brought back the main events of my freshman year. The rest of high school was good to me, but was definitely still haunted by the Beast.
Principal: "You were a student here, Miss…Sordino?" Did he remember my name or is it just the tag I'm wearing that gave away my name? Maybe I should wear a collar, giving the information that's needed.
me: "Yes." And I hated it too.
I turned and headed down to the art room. Some students were already walking into the building, but I haven't seen that small raven. I figured she could be hiding in the closet, so the sanctuary became my detour.
It was still up to Martha standards, but the walls were littered with dead trees and hanged birds. Every drawing showed a progression of suffering and tears. I never thought of using the tree like this.
Conny: "What are you doing here?" After a moment, her false anger melted away by her tears. The petite girl rammed into my body, forcing a hug upon me.
me: "Conny, what happened?" The door was closed and the bells were not supposed to ring for another few minutes. I think a sob story could be told in the meantime.
Conny: "Nothing, I'm fine. I'm glad you're here!" She doesn't sound too happy; even though it's obvious she injected joy into her words. "You never answered your phone or anything, so I thought you got irritated."
me: "I don't mind you venting to me. I don't find you irritating at all." She's far too modest and kind, even with all this pain inflicted upon her soul. I can't believe she's being put through this.
Conny: "Wh-why are you here?" Her voice became a lot softer, yet thick with gushing waters. "You're in college, aren't you?"
me: "From now on, I'm going to be watching over you."
Our time to catch up was cut brief by the bell. Conny ran as fast as she could, not wanting to be late for class. I suppose I should be acting the same way, but this is just Cricket—maybe I should start calling him Mr. Freeman. It's only the right thing to do, considering I'm going to working alongside him.
Freeman: "Ah, my favorite college student!" The bug-man put down his brush and tore off his apron to pull me into a hug. I hate hugs, but I can't tell him to let go. It didn't even last that long anyways.
Faceless Blonde: "Mr. Freeman? Who's the chick?" Did that boy really just call me that?
Freeman: "I would prefer it if you called your new student teacher by her proper name: Miss Sordino." The seniors of this class all gave me stares. I know there hasn't been a lot of time since I've graduated, so maybe these are the kids from when I was a senior? Or maybe they were still in junior high? All I'm sure of is that they probably know me too well.
Faceless Brunette: "You're Melinda Sordino?" The juniors in the class seemed a bit confused. They were probably left out of the loop when they were younger. "The one that got Mr. Evans put in jail?"
Anime Girl: [brushes neon blue hair out of her face] "Mr. Evans was jailed? For what?"
Bald Boy: "You didn't know that he r—"
Freeman: "Silence, students! This is a place of art and expression. Now, I will lend you to Miss Sordino for the time being. She has full rights to send you detention and to give you failing grades, so do be aware." He turned and offered a smile to me. I suppose that's his way of wishing me luck.
Miss me: "All right, class. Just for the sake of it," what the heck am I supposed to do? "Can all of you pull out your sketchbooks and use whatever medium you want to how me who you are?" To be honest, I have no idea what I am doing.
Bald Boy: "Anything? Does it have to be in the sketchbook?" I suppose I shouldn't limit these guys.
Miss me: "If you want to use clay or other materials, go ahead. It just has to be done by the end of class." Everyone rushed and got right down to business. Many pulled out pencils, while others fought over mounds of clay. I looked to Freeman, who was busy enjoying his free-time.
By the end of the first class, everyone crowded around and handed in their projects. That is, every one besides one student. The bell rang, calling the students to rush out. The lone boy walked right up to me. I recognized him so easily, but it wasn't because of how similar he and his sister looked so alike. It was the animalistic glare in his eyes that made me remember him so well.
Miss me: "Donnie, I would presume." The arrogant grin upon his face made me want to slap him.
Donnie: "Nice to meet you, Melinda—oops, I mean, Miss Sordino. I look forward to spending the rest of the semester with you." He left with his things, distilling the air with his putrid atmosphere.
[Conny]: Well, I think this is a little shorter than my usual chapters, don't you think? Tell me what you think of David and Donnie and Conny please? Also, please tell me if I'm still in-character for Melinda? I haven't read Speak in such a long time, I'm afraid that I am not speaking as she would. Until next time, my fabulous readers!