Post by jakkidee on Aug 15, 2007 12:43:46 GMT -5
It was Wacky Wednesday in the cafeteria, and Robin was not looking forward to it. The haggard old caf ladies, with their frizzy manes sticking out of their hairnets, their snaggleteeth and their fuzzy moles on the ends of their crooked noses, thought they would improve school spirit by serving Wednesday's lunch dyed the school colors. What did they think this was, Junior High? Anyway, today was fried bologna and baked beans, all decked out in green and gold. Disgusting: it looked like mold... it may actually have been mold.
He thanked the cafeteria lady in any case, as he had learned to do from his caf-lady mother, and turned toward the rows upon rows of tables and chairs. This made the click problem at the school very apparent: one corner held beautiful, snobbish girls and their handsome baseball player boyfriends: the ITkids; on their right, all the in-betweeners: the Dolces, Cards and Bitches; kitty corner to them held happily playing and fighting Nerds in black clothing and thick glasses; next to those sat his crew: the Scenesters. He squoze in next to two unfamiliar black and blonds and nodded vague hellos.
Everyone around him was already at least half-done their beans and bologna. I must be pretty late, he thought, and dug into his food, which was surprisingly not bad. He shoveled forkfuls into his mouth, before his tongue had a chance to actually taste it, and was done in a flash. He leant back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head. He was mid-stretch when his chair stopped moving backward, and his head hit something hard -- there was someone behind him, and whoever it was, they couldn't be very happy.
He set his chair's front legs back on the ground, and turned to face the person he'd hit. it was one of them... the ITgirls. He'd never so much as spoken to one of them before, so he knew he was, to put it lightly, screwed.
He thanked the cafeteria lady in any case, as he had learned to do from his caf-lady mother, and turned toward the rows upon rows of tables and chairs. This made the click problem at the school very apparent: one corner held beautiful, snobbish girls and their handsome baseball player boyfriends: the ITkids; on their right, all the in-betweeners: the Dolces, Cards and Bitches; kitty corner to them held happily playing and fighting Nerds in black clothing and thick glasses; next to those sat his crew: the Scenesters. He squoze in next to two unfamiliar black and blonds and nodded vague hellos.
Everyone around him was already at least half-done their beans and bologna. I must be pretty late, he thought, and dug into his food, which was surprisingly not bad. He shoveled forkfuls into his mouth, before his tongue had a chance to actually taste it, and was done in a flash. He leant back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head. He was mid-stretch when his chair stopped moving backward, and his head hit something hard -- there was someone behind him, and whoever it was, they couldn't be very happy.
He set his chair's front legs back on the ground, and turned to face the person he'd hit. it was one of them... the ITgirls. He'd never so much as spoken to one of them before, so he knew he was, to put it lightly, screwed.