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The Hair Incident; Bystanders only
Topic Started: Oct 27 2010, 12:30 PM (1,256 Views)
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Paint me like one of your Sith girls
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It was just another average day at General's Pride for Marilyn Williams. The lessons weren't anything she'd had any trouble with, although the daily 'America Studies' had per usual made her feel pretty small, particularly with the teacher, Mr. Barrett, throwing out the occasional pointed remark. Lunch had been succesfully navigated in a corner of the library and now there was only one period left before Marilyn could head on home. All in all, it hadn't been too bad. Most of the usual suspects had left her alone beyond the odd 'whisper' and somebody that she didn't see properly knocking the books out of her hands. There'd been much, much worse.

Navigating the rush in the corridors between lessons was proving troublesome. Marilyn didn't have the size or the confidence to shove past anybody, so she was finding people brushing past and knocking her about a lot. Not through any malice, she was sure, just because it was hard to take account of a girl shuffling through the crush with her head facing firmly towards the floor. Maybe one or two bumps were a little harder than was strictly necessary to move past Marilyn, but she was used to this kind of thing, it rolled across her back. All she could do was keep her head down and stay on the move.

Marilyn habitually walked like this. It made her shoulder-length hair fall all around the front of her face. It obscured her. She liked the feeling of sanctuary and annonymity, although most everyone in her year (and a couple of the older kids) would have easily picked her out from the lustre of said hair and the scrappiness of the clothes she wore. All the same, it was a nice illusion, even if it sometimes stopped her from seeing where she was going properly. Marilyn would take any shield she could get, even if it inconvenienced her, just to soften the blow...

Then there was an outright push from one side. Marilyn hadn't expected it and she stumbled, losing her balance due to her arms being right at her sides. The girl staggered a couple of steps without hitting anybody, then struck someone with a heavy impact, teetered for a second, then managed to right herself. Marilyn murmured something that might have been an apology and then hurried right along.

Don't attract attention. Don't make a fuss. That wasn't anything, just normal. Just-

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[ *  * ]
"Bitch, I wish I could be better than the government," he sputtered, voice taking on the 'low and menacing' tone. "Then they wouldn't slack off so much about stacking you with your gook traitor parents five foot high for sandbags." He was wetting her face with saliva. Have some restraint.

Juliet's stomach pulled. If only he'd said something else. Something about her, maybe. She'd taken a lot of stupid insults her way. She would be happy to kiss him then, snog him, stage-whisper "Oh Harris, you're so…dangerous!" and smirk at his erection, at his bewildered, turned-on expression. Make a mongrel, why don't you? Take me here and now, Harris! Take me!

But he had to say something about her parents.

Mom, Dad, Simon, I love you.

And how she hated him right now. Harris Van Allen. Think you can talk like that?

But he could. Always could. But your parents were traitors Ms. Suthers would say sweetly. Harris just feels the need to express that rather…strongly. He'll grow out of it, I'm sure. And her stupid, stupid, stupid smile. And I'm afraid, as far as we can tell, you started this ugly confrontation. I know you're troubled, Juliet, but public displays of affection are a little…tasteless. Followed by a stupid, stupid smirk, a dismissal.

Mom, Dad, what do I do now?

He pushed her away, squeezing her hips, copping a feel. Hard enough that she had to put a foot behind her to stop herself from skittering across the hallway. Juliet has excellent balance, the dance instructor had said.

So now she was standing in front of Harris, her hips red from his squeeze, her face covered with spit. She wiped the saliva with her sleeve.

I hate you. She didn't say it. It was too much. But her face spasmed into anger. Harris probably got a lot of satisfaction out of that.

Don't hit him. Don't hit him. Please don't hit him.

But he had such a stupid, stupid smirk on his face.

Don't hit him.

She swung.
Edited by storyspoiler, Nov 26 2010, 03:49 AM.

Program: Juliet Watanabe ~ Dead ~ Let's Make Life A Living Hell ~ LeMat Revolver
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