ArchivedLogs:Sass in Class
| Sass in Class | |
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| Dramatis Personae | 2013-04-08 Oooh, breakin' all tha ruuuules... |
| Location | |
There are two kinds of students who sit at the front of the class -- those two have been put there because they're a nuisance, and those who wouldn't sit anywhere else because they might /miss something/. Ivan is most definitely in the latter category, sitting up as straight as can be with his books and a plethora of notes in front of him, nearly too many to fit on the desk. His backpack is slung over the back of his chair, brimming with yet MORE books. Occasionally it is reached for-- apparently the art of taking notes is very serious business and needs many different writing instruments. The name of the game is Biology Class, and he is WINNING, surely. It is also, coincidentally, one of the later classes of the day, and halfway through the class students have started to become restless and tentatively chatty in anticipation for it to be over. The teacher sits at a desk almost equally full of pages of scribbled answers and notes from another group of students, going over them with a red pen to mark papers with angry streaks and numbers. Behind him, the blackboard shows a somewhat artistic interpretation of various cell structures and the names of every single one of their intricate little parts. Somewhere among the students themselves, a crumpled ball of paper is thrown from behind someone's back, in no particular direction. Guess where Shelby is? That’s right, at the front of the class! Guess why? Go on, you have three guesses... Shelby’s desk is relatively bare. An open book. A notebook. A lone pencil, which is currently being used not for the assigned business of sketching and labeling cells and their structure, but in...sketching! Not cells, though she would probably argue that since she is drawing /something/ she is technically fulfilling half of this assignment. Now and again she flicks a carefulwary look at the teacher’s desk but since he appears occupied, she is not /too/ concerned about being caught. Which is why, after a few minutes, she cups a folded scrap of paper in her palm and twists her arm out towards Ivan’s desk. Then coughs softly when he doesn’t look over because NERD OMG. A sharp look follows the cough. “Ivan,” she whispers, barely audible. A hand-waggle summons his attention. Take the note, damn it! When he does, and when it’s unfolded, the page reveals itself to be a sketchy drawing of Ivan and Rasa--as zie was, not as he is at the moment--holding hands and strolling through a patch of wildflowers. There are bees /literally/ circling around them, every single one decorated with happy bee faces. Beneath the moving picture, she has written: u guyz datin now? Ivan's face is one of confusion! Note passing. This is not a thing he is used to, and he almost looks a bit /sad/ to be abandoning his nerding to read /notes/. But any hint of that disappears from his face when he actually has the note open, and he smiles! Pretty happily, though he attempts to suppress it a moment later. Not very successfully, his head dipping in an attempt to hide his face. Also not successfully. A few seconds later and he has torn a scrap of paper out of his notebook, scribbling back with exactly the sort of handwriting one might expect from someone who is used to writing in a different alphabet all together- a little disjointed and scratchy: this is the best note people keep asking. I should have asked. I am not sure. do you think ze (this is SCRATCHED THROUGH and then added again) wants to? pronouns are hard Well now! Having something /interesting/ to do in bioclass means that suddenly Shelby has become the most studious of students! For someone who dropped out at age thirteen, she is a /master/ of note-passing and accepting. Zoop, Ivan’s response disappears into her hand and then is sneakysneaky unfolded before her. She squints at it. Gives him a Look for his chickenscratch. Then she plies her pencil again, hunching over her desk and scribbling industriously. Have no fear, Ivan. Her own handwriting is as poor as her spelling abilities. Cue his scrap of paper being slipped back to him, with a quick glance at the teacher. It reads: i kno im prty awsum u cn keep it if u want xcpt it wont animate wen i go so sad too bad i thnk mebe u gota rmbr rasa is liek...new 2 all this dude ykno? u mebe kinda scard her a lil w/ talkin bout speshul kisses. i so gota giv u smoooooooth lessons She has drawn a little doodle of a smoooooth dude, with an Elvis pompadour and a huge toothy smile, surrounded by sighing stick figure ladeez. The hearts inscribed around them beat-beat-beat, forcing out little curlyques and rainbows each time. Ivan's notepassing abilities need work. His glance toward the teacher is riddled with Hello I Am Doing Something I Am Not Supposed To Do, and he pockets the previous note. His shoulders pop up as he's reading the next one, frowning at the scrap of paper as though it had just quoted Shakespeare at him. Whether for the content or the way the content is /presented/ is unclear. Perhaps both. The doodle does cause him to exhale sharply in amusement, though. The next note that is quite obviously reached over in an imitation move of Shelby's, reads: ? I do not think I said that. did I do something wrong ? I do not know how to do any of this Below the note there is a doodle in return! Despite it not moving, it does bare a striking resemblance to the stick figure ladeez in the other note, only she is standing on a crudely drawn kitchen stool with a :(, an oversized spider on the floor next to it. Now that they’ve got the ritual down--although Shelby /furiously/ writes the first part of her answer, which turns out to be advice on how /not to be caught--the whole process goes faster. Write write, pass pass. dude liek dont luk at teh teecher vry minut, hell kno sumthin is up k? jesus ur gona get us bustd just play it cool. ur writin notes. 4 class. just pretnd. At this point, she breaks up the narrative in order to resketch Ivan’s drawing. The spider has stood up on two legs and is waltzing the lady around with the other...four? Okay, so she’s failing biology. Shut up. But they are dancing under a banner that says “Happy Valentine’s Day!” She writes beneath this: u pulld it off 1s dude. u gota rmber, liek i sed, rasa is new 2 this. she dusnt want TRU LUUUUUV (surrounded by more hearts and joined by stars) she wants 2 figur out wut she lieks. n if u wanna b her dude u gota b liek... “rasa im sory 4 bein jelus bout shane kisin u. kisses r niec n if u wana evr practis mor kises i wuld b hapy 2 help” kk? The next note is handed over somewhat more carefully, just moments before the teacher glances over, though a newfound fear of so much as looking over has Ivan miss the somewhat suspicious look he is shot from the front of the class. Alas, it is disregarded- after all, Ivan passing notes? Unlikely. Said unlikely note reads: so I have to pretend I only want kisses even if I dont so I can help rasa figure out what ze wants ? that does not make sense to me No doodle, this time. Just a confused Ivan staring at a textbook. This time it is up to Shelby to play it safe--and she is so good with the play-acting. After the note is received, it is palmed and then that hand is used to diligently turn a page of her textbook. La la la, studying! La la la, learning what she’s supposed to be learning! It’s only after the teacher’s focus shifts back to grading papers that she unfolds the note. And reads. And pulls a face. She writes. Quickly. ur such a liar u want rasa-kisses i kno u do Shelby proves it by /drawing/ said kisses, just two floating heads on the page that vaguely resemble her roommate and Ivan, smooching from profile-view. Smooching a /lot/. leson #1: kises r nice vn if they r not TWU WUV kisses leson #2: u want rasa 2 be hapy u gota figur out wut makes hir happy n do it leson #3: omg do u need kisin practis 2??? Now it is Ivan's turn to pull a face. But not one of annoyance- his eyes on the note cause a look of /panic/. He tries to hide it again. The redness creeping across his face is harder to hide, however. His next note takes a little while to be produced, his left arm curled conspicuously around his writing as if suspicious of onlookers. When it is sneakily handed over again, he makes a point to look absolutely nowhere near Shelby. The handwriting, still scratchy, is getting smaller and smaller. Matching the way Ivan seems more and more uncomfortable in his chair and more and more steely-focused on that same page of his textbook between notes. when I wrote I do not know any of this I mean The next word is written all the way in the lower right corner, underlined and traced several times, however tinysmall. Maybe in an attempt to make it plain illegible: ANY It’s still up for debate whether Shelby has something resembling a normal heart but even /she/ has to take a moment when she reads what Ivan has written in teeeeeeny tiny letters. Her lips move, possibly decipherable even from an angle: Jesus Fucking Christ. Then she is writing carefully, brows furrowed and lips pursed. The note sliiiides over to him a few minutes later. She /labored/ over this one. It comes without any drawings too, so one knows she is Utterly Serious. ok nothin wrong w/ that i meen ur liek wut...15? n mebe they do stuf diffrnt in rusia or whrvr ur from. do u wana lern? i culd mebe help Beneath that, underlined twice, she has written: if u tel ne1 i sed that i will kick ur ass This note does not seem to be quite so heavy-hitting on Ivan, though he is still very much in the process of assimilating with his desk through being a bunched together ball of confusion over the actual /subject/ of the notes. He takes a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself, and writes again, slightly bigger again so as to not to let his handwriting devolve into nothingness: if it will help rasa not forget me yes It’s not easy to tell just /what/ Shelby thinks of Ivan’s reply. Her face goes all scrunched but how to translate that expression? It is indecipherable. She flicks a look towards the desk at the front of the room and then bows over the note again. ok heer is the deel. rasa lieks u im prety sure i dont think shes guna forget u but shes also That last part, everything from “but” is scratched out. The note starts fresh below. ok take 2. i can mebe help u lern how 2 b arond her n b sweet n stuf w/out getin all weerd n like how 2 hug a girl n kiss her 2. but i meen it u cant tel NE1 cuz i dont wana b caled a slut ill get detenton 4 kikin asses "Ivan, are you alright?" That... would be the teacher, having gotten up a few seconds ago for a round around the class, now looming over Ivan's desk just as he's reading his note. Said note is COVERED with a arm and he looks up at the teacher still red-faced and wide-eyed. Not-- answering for a good few seconds. A terrible realisation crashing through his head like a sledgehammer. The teacher frowns. "/Yes/." Ivan finally replies, rather automatically, voice as small as his handwriting before. He then glances to the side, directly at Shelby, and follows his answer up with-- "/N-no/." The teacher, throughout all of this, looks between annoyed and concerned, crossing his arms to look toward Shelby instead, as if she knows how to translate the self-contradictory teenager’s utterings. OH SHIT IT’S THE PO-PO! Shelby was all set to play it blase, cool as a cucumber, but her partner in crime just /had/ to go shooting her that look. She sighs. She rolls her eyes towards the ceiling, completely unconcerned about this blatant display of disrespect to a teacher. “I told him to give me his notes and he said no,” she huffs, “I just wanted to look at them to make sure I got it all down right. It’s not like it’s a /test/, right?” Then, icing on the cake, she looks the teacher right in the eye in a way any and all educators will recognize--she is challenging his authority, his right to judge this request wrong. What’s he gonna do about it? Huh? HUH?! ...hopefully he stops paying attention to Ivan, is what. The teacher's not having any of this SASS. This isn't his first time teachin', and there's a reason Shelby's at the front of the class. That reason is he doesn't LIKE her, and his half-lidded stare back at her makes this all too clear. "One of these days, you'll learn that this sort of behaviour only hurts you in the long run." He nods toward another desk, continuing in a firm voice, "Barry -- up, switch places." A pasty kid two desks over gives a groan, and starts picking up his stuff with muttered complaints and a short-lived glare at Shelby. Who, upon picking up her backpack, should notice a little scrap of paper having been placed on top of it at some point, saying simply, I will figure it out thank you | |
