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PG-18 Red Roses

Jester

Can we pretend airplanes are shooting stars?
Jone got to first period fifteen minutes late. Okay, so he’d missed the bus. Okay, he hadn’t combed his mess of a hair and was out of breath. He was wheezing; the chest binder was pressing down on his ribs. He wasn’t proud of his current state of distress, but he wasn’t about to walk in looking like a moron. So he paused in front of the glass display case beside the class, and attempted to straighten his messy hair, which was currently doing its best dying octopus impression.

He straightened his tie (yes, he was wearing a tie, deal with it), and finally slipped into class. “Okay, before you give me detention, Ms. Andrews, I promise I have a good expla…” He stopped dead. Because instead of Ms. Andrews sitting at her desk with her neat bun and oversized glasses was a young man.

“Am I in the wrong class?” he asked out loud. From the back of the class, his friend, Crim, motioned him to shut up and sit down. No, apparently he was not in the wrong class. “Are you supplying for Ms. Andrews, “ he asked the newbie, hopping on his desk. Supply teachers were easy. You didn’t really have to try when they were around. So yeah, he was sitting on the desk. Sue him.
 

Saiga

You bet your Rom Tom Bottom!
The man looked to the student with a bright smile. "Oh hello!" He said with a cheery tone. He stood from his desk and clapped his hands together, ignoring the fact that Jone was clearly breaking a rule by inviting himself to have a seat on the dark oak furniture. "You just missed the greeting, but I would happily go over it once more." Hearing this, the class let out a chorus of sighs and complaints. The man ignored all of these and stepped toward the chalk board before he filled the blank green space with curvy handwriting.
"My name is Mr. Grace," he spoke loudly and clearly. "G-R-A-C-E! I am married to Mrs. Grace, spelled the same way. I was born in the United States, and have lived here all of my life. I like baseball, teaching, math, and games! I have two dogs, a cat, and a hamster.." No wonder the kids didn't want to hear the greeting a second time. He just kept going, all while speaking in a robotic tone with an emotion of seemingly fabricated joy. Once he was done, he struck the chalk against the board in a smooth white line and place the writing tool down. He turned towards Jone and smiled.
"Now you know who I am, and you must be--" He flipped through a colorful, floral chalkboard he had on his desk. "Jones! Nice to meet you my boy!" He held out a strong hand and smiled bigger than before.
 
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Jester

Can we pretend airplanes are shooting stars?
Jone didn’t take his hand. “My name is Jone, not Jones. Accent on the e,” he said sharply, hopping off the desk. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Mr. Grace, but absolutely nobody gives a damn about your life story.”

The vampire kneeled down to where he’d dropped his bag and started pulling out his books. He didn’t like strangers. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been so rude. If someone had given him a heads up, everything would have been okay. But he walked into class, expecting a normal day, and found Mr.Creeepy the Creep. Of course he was going to be sullen. It was bad enough he had to memorize everyone’s route home, so they wouldn’t bump into him after school, when he was feeding. Now there was a new teacher. A new frigging teacher. A whole new person to commit to memory.

When he came back up, he was composed. “Sorry for snapping,” he said calmly as he sat down at his desk. “Won’t happen again.” He opened his calculus text book at the same page everyone was on, and got a pencil ready to take notes. He’d set his phone on the edge of the desk, and as he looked down, he caught a glimpse of his reflection. Unruly black hair, pale skin and bright green eyes. He wore eyeliner for the emo aesthetic, and a white shirt clean enough to eat your lunch off it. Over it he wore a hoodie. Yeah. Fashion was not his best suit, so he just let Crim pick his clothes whenever they went shopping.
 

Saiga

You bet your Rom Tom Bottom!
Mr. Grace kept his smile all while Jone barked and growled at the man, but he raised an eyebrow when the boy apologized. He surely wasn't expecting that, not out of a high school student of his type. He nodded once the boy had settled into his desk and made an effort to calm the rest of his class.
"I'm sorry I am not who you were expecting on this Monday morning," he began as he started to erase his chalk writings from the board. "But I feel like it is best to inform you that Ms. Andrews won't be present for quite some time." This caused a bit of chatter amongst the class, one student even shouting out "Is she dead?" which caused some laughter between the students who weren't as concerned as the others.
Mr. Grace shook his head and turned to the class. "No she is not dead, but close to it. Ms. Andrews was in a car accident on her way home Friday evening after school. She was hit full on by a semi and broke many bones in her body." The class was no longer laughing. "She will have to recover fully if she wants to return to her job, but I'm sure you all will help her with happy cards." That's when he pulled out a stack of colorful "Get Well" cards of all sorts. "Now pass these around and write some thing nice in it for Ms. Andrews." He handed the stack to a student of front and made his way back to the chalk board. "For the rest of you, lets talk about the Addition button located on your calculator, and lets see all the fun things we can do with it's function!" More groans.

Brrrrrringg!!
The chalk skidded against the board as the room was filled with the sound of a chiming bell. In unison, all the students began packing up their things and filing out the door. They tossed their cards on the desk as they left the class drained and tired of the word "Add". Mr. Grace, however, seemed more ready that ever to continue his lesson with the next class. Not a single bead of sweat was seen on his lightly tanned skin, his blonde hair still looked freshly combed and washed. His spotted blue shirt and khaki pants lacking any wrinkles, and his blue eyes bright and sparkling. He glanced of to the ceiling as the bell stopped and place his chalk down, the tool ran to its edge from his endless writing. "Oh, so that's what the dismissal bell sounds like," he said to himself. "Have a nice day children! I hope to see you bright and ready for our lesson tomorrow! It's a button that starts with the letter "S"!" More groans..
 
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Jester

Can we pretend airplanes are shooting stars?
Over the duration of the class, Jone pretended to take notes while roleplaying on his phone. He basically managed to tune out every detail of Mr.Ass McCreep's speech, and only tuned back in when the bell screeched him awake. He’d put his bag up on the desk and set the textbook against it. Not only could the teacher not see his face and hands, but he actually looked like he was studying. Despite the flash of surprise which passed over the teacher’s face at his apology, nobody else in the class was surprised. Jone was known for having little fits of rudeness and then being polite seconds later. It was how he made most friends. He told them what he thought about them out right, and then apologized for being blunt and asked if they hated him. If they were stuck up enough to walk away, then there was no point in talking to them anyway.

When he had to hand his card in, he paused. "Yeah, so I didn't do it," he told Mr. McCreep. "I'll drop by the hospital later today and bring her flowers though. So...yeah. Get off my back." He paused for a second. "I dunno if you know this. But we're in grade 12 math. We learned to add and subtract 11 years ago. If you want to keep your job, I suggest you actually use the text book." He picked up one of the forgotten text books nearby and threw it at his hands. "Think fast," he said, and slipped out into the hall without waiting to see if Mr.Incompetent had caught it. Judging from the muffled thump which resounded from the classroom a second later, he hadn't.

He didn't appreciate the chaos of hallways. Never had, never would, never will. All the pushing and shoving and screaming and sweat. Avoiding the mayhem basically summed up his life as a student. He ducked into Business 101 and finally collapsed onto his chair, wiping away the sweat which had gathered on his brow. He hated highschool so bleedin much.
 

Saiga

You bet your Rom Tom Bottom!
Mr. Grace expected someone to come to him about the lesson, he even more so expected Jone to come to him about the lesson. He stared at the boy with his smile as he spoke to him, nodding blankly as he was given the "advice" on teaching the class. He didn't make an effort to pick up the book, he didn't erase his work from the board. He knew what he was planning to teach, and no one was going to ruin his planned lessons for the week. That's why you plan them. He swiped the book from the floor and slid it in the shelf with the other copies just as his second class arrived. His smiled curled even more as he heard their questions began when they saw him. He simply grabbed his eraser, cleaned the board, and began his introduction to the class.
 
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Jester

Can we pretend airplanes are shooting stars?
The next day, Jone showed up to school wearing an old, faded pair of jeans and a hoodie three sizes to big. It was clear he hadn’t put any effort into his outfit. His eyes were bloodshot and despite his mocking grin, it was very clear something real bad had happened to him.

He walked into class and collapsed on his chair, ten minutes early. He didn’t even bother to say hi to the teacher. Instead, he put his head on the desk and closed his eyes. His breathing was labored and his reflexes were dulled. If someone attacked him now, he wouldn’t put up much of a fight.
 

Saiga

You bet your Rom Tom Bottom!
Upon his arrival, Jone was greeted with an ever-smiling Mr. Grace, who was more ready for the day than any one in that school. "Good morning Mr. Jone," he said cheerfully, waving around a short stick of chalk. "I hope you're well rested, because today's lesson is going to really take away from you!" Upon finishing his joke-pun-thing, he began laughing and congratulating himself. "Oh that was good! First time I thought of it. Well, gotta get back to writing. Make yourself at home, Jone."
Mr. Grace was calmly filling the board with his lesson for the day. Of course, he ignored Jone's remark yesterday and continued on with his plans to talk about all the glories of subtraction. The board was filled with neat, even writing, and it looked like he had already ran through a few sticks of chalk due to the small pile of useless buds sitting at the edge of the chalk board edge. Once he had felt like his work was complete, he scooted the chalk buds into the trash and dusted off his hands. Glancing at the rugged looking Jone, he gave the teen a friendly smile. "So what made you be so pre-punctual today Mr. Jones," he asked. "I was expecting a routine from you."
 

Jester

Can we pretend airplanes are shooting stars?
Jone actually groaned at the teacher’s pun. Did the man know he sounded stupid? Like, legit. It was so bad. “Nobody likes you,” he murmured under his breath. “Seriously. Nobody. At all.” He hoped the teacher couldn’t hear him. He was just sort of being rude because he was pissed. He was upset, and tired, and this grade 12 teacher was teaching them subtraction. And if this was not a crappy day, he didn’t know what was.

“I got kicked out,” he replied at the teacher’s inquiry. “Next sardonic question.” As he was talking, he pulled his hood over his head. He didn’t have a job. He didn’t have friends to stay with. And he still needed to pay his student fees. “I know I look like a bad student, but I have an 8o average, Mr. Grace.” He hated the teacher. He hated everyone and everything, and he wanted to die. “Can you just give me the assignment and leave me alone?”
 

Saiga

You bet your Rom Tom Bottom!
"No one likes me huh?" He lowered his head in thought for a moment, a small smile still on his face. "Well, I don't need you or any of your peers to enjoy my presence." He turned towards the only student in his class. No one had arrived yet, despite it being time for class to begin. The space began to feel small and claustrophobic as he began making his way towards Jone. "All I ask..," he started, his smile growing ever-so-slightly, his teeth too white and straight for any person. "..is that you do not disturb my work or my class. I'm sure that might be a bit difficult due to your lack of care for others around you, but you don't even have to participate. You don't have to speak, react, or feel anything towards what I'm discussing with the rest of my students. I won't let your problems effect my schedule. If I let you do that, then I have to let everyone do that. So lay your head down, close your eyes, and stop talking." At that point, his smile seemed more akin to a friendly snarl than anything.

Brrrrriiiing!!
Immediately after the bell, students began filing into the room and taking their places and Mr. Grace returned to his place in front of the class. "Good morning everyone," he greeted happily as the students prepared for their foreseen lesson. "I hope you all are ready to talk about-"
he began beating on his desk to mimic a drum role. "-Subtraction!" Groans and complaints filled the room. The only person who seemed to match Mr. Grace's enthusiam was Nevaeh Whitelaw. She clapped her manicured hands togther in a single person appaluse.
"That sounds great Mr. Grace." she said with a perfect smile on her face. "I know you'll make this lesson better that yesterday!" Mr. Grace smiled at her words, and with everyone seated, he began the lesson.
 
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Jester

Can we pretend airplanes are shooting stars?
Jone flipped him off. He couldn’t bother to rage against his lack of humanity. He didn’t even look up. The hood covering his head got pulled an inch lower with every word the teacher spoke. After the fucking sadist left, he pulled out his phone and clicked on the spotify playlist he’d entitled ‘BURN’ and pushed his earbuds in. He didn’t look up as the rest of the class walked in. His head was on the table, his eyes were closed, and he was fighting with every nerve in his body not to leap at the teacher’s throat and claw his eyes out.

When that bitch Nevaeh began kissing the teacher’s ass, some jock from the back started having an unnecessarily loud coughing fit, not completely covering up the hisses of “Whore,” and “Slut” from his friends. Jone cracked a grin. At least you could always depend on the rugby players being assholes. As the class trudged on, minute by mind-numbing minute, Jone was starting to grow restless. His fangs itched in their sheath. After the whole fiasco with his foster parents kicking him out in the streets the night before, he’d been too numb and depressed to find any food. So he’d just curled up in a tree near the school’s football field and slept. He was starting to regret not eating bitterly.

His hands were shaking on the table in front of him. With each second, he was growing colder and his patience was being severely tested. Halfway through Mc.Dumbass’ lesson on subtraction, he started shivering so violently the person beside him noticed. “Dude, you okay?” Nathan asked, concern dripping from his voice. “Yeah,” Jone mumbled, wincing at the ringing pain in his head. “You got an advil, by any chance?”
 

Saiga

You bet your Rom Tom Bottom!
Mr. Grace only chuckled in response towards Jone's rudeness. He turned toward his board and continued on as if the chair the teenager satin was filled with nothing, but air. As for Nevaeh, she only grinned at the harsh names thrown at her. She wouldn't let such pettiness ruin her day with her new favorite teacher. "Seems like there's a bit of a cough going around Mr. Grace," she said as she crossed a stockinged leg over the other. "It seems like a certain group of boys are choking on their own boyhood." Mr. Grace glanced at the students he knew she was referring to, but continued on with his lesson. He was not going to let anyone's problems get in his way, but he could not help but overhear Jone's request for drugs in the back of his class.
"Mr. Jone," he called, his face still towards the board as he wrote. "If you don't mind, son, I'd like to speak with you after class." That when he tuned towards him. "I will not allow the use of drugs in my class, no matter the type or use. And you.." He turned his attention to Nathan before flipping through his clip board. "..Nathan. I feel like I should expect better from you, so I will. You will be let off on a warning for now, but come next time you stray in my class, there will be trouble." With that the teacher continued on with his lesson.

Come the end of the period, Mr. Grace waited by the door to catch Jone. When he did, he quietly requested, "Could I speak to you alone, Mr. Jone?" At that moment, his smile was gone for the first time they had met. It was replaced with a slight frown of worry and concern. "I won't hold you long, I promise. I just want to talk.."
 
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Jester

Can we pretend airplanes are shooting stars?
The boys in the back started snickering like idiots at the bitch's words. Half of them had probably missed the meaning of the sentence entirely, but seeing her with her legs crossed and he back as straight as a ruler was too much, even for the more mature guys. "You'd be so much hotter without that pole up your ass," the guy behind her whispered, enticing another round of laughter. Within two minutes, Naveah had successfully made herself the target of the entire class. Jone was still smirking under his hood, his face hidden by his arm. Yeah, he found all this hilarious, but he didn't want to add to it.

"I'm not you son, sir." Jone hissed. en Mr.McJerk called Nathan out for talking to him, however, he saw red. He made a mental note to slash the guy's tires after class, and tag his car.Nathan turned red with embarrassment beside him. He'd had a long history of anxiety, and being talked to directly in front of the whole class wasn't doing him any good. "I'm sorry," he said, unable to meet the teacher's eyes. "I'll do better." Jone gave him a worried look. Under the the table, Nathan's leg was bouncing up and down like crazy, betraying his restlessness. When the teacher turned back around to the board, Jone set his hand on the dude's knee, stilling the movement. "You're okay," he whispered, softly enough that only he could here. "It's over, dude." He pulled back his hand before it started getting gay. Nathan did look a little better though.

"I can't believe you freaked out over Advil, sir.' Jone snapped when class ended. "And if you're giving me detention for daring to talk in class, you can can it. There ain't nothing you can do to me anymore. Guess what. My parents don't care." He crossed his arms, vibrating with rage towards this guy, who'd come into his life and set everything upside down.
 

Saiga

You bet your Rom Tom Bottom!
Mr. Grace blinked before saying, "I just wanted to see if you wanted to come over for spaghetti and B-balls." He stopped and giggled to himself about the joke he had just made. Something about meatballs and basketballs both being balls and him loving sports. It was a silly joke that he seemed to enjoy all too much. Once he was done patting himself on his back, he straightened his purple tie over his lighter shirt and clasped his hands together in an effort to be serious. "Ahem- sorry Spaghetti and meatballs with garlic bread, and chicken parmesan. You had told me about your situation and I just wanted to see if I could make your day a bit better."
 

Jester

Can we pretend airplanes are shooting stars?
The dude was one tent short of a refugee camp. "No thank you, sir. I appreciate the offer, however. As much as I hate you, I wouldn't want for you to get fired. And as you know, seeing students outside of school is frowned upon." That being said, Jone shoved his hands in his pockets. He was shaking real bad and was growing light headed. He needed to eat. Fast. "I'll just find a shelter. Again, thanks for offering."
 

Saiga

You bet your Rom Tom Bottom!
He nodded, seeming to understand what the student was talking about. "Oh I understand, and appreciate your concern for my occupational standing, but technically I'm not even in the system yet, and I'm sure I won't ever be since my placement is ttemporary. So.." His bright smile came back to his face. "The most I'd lose is any leftovers I'll be having for lunch tomorrow." Students began filling into the class just as they finished. Mr. Grace ordered everyone to their seats before looking back to Jone one last time. "My offer stands," he said before picking up a long stick of chalk he intended to grind to its end. "Come see me at the end of the day if you're interested. Now get outta here." He winked a blue eye before turning towards his board and shutting out any more distractions.

In the hall, Nevaeh was standing in the now empty hall, her two giant adopted brothers at her sides. She was tossing some nasty words towards one of the jocks that spoke ill of her the previous period. She was threatening the boy with actions that would surely ruin her standing in the school, and her sent to jail. The boy was cowering beneath the intense glare of the giant ebony twins and the popular blonde girl. Nevaeh only stopped when she noticed Jone's presence in the hall.
"Oh," she said glaring towards him. "It's Emo. I'd say it's good to see you, but that wouldn't be a very convincing lie.."
 

Jester

Can we pretend airplanes are shooting stars?
Jone nodded silently. It wasn't a hard decision. A warm place to stay and food, or a one inch mattress and having to watch his back for muggers. He thanks the teacher and slipped out of the classroom, more grateful than confused regarding his sudden change in attitude. So the guy was a prick when you interrupted his class and questioned his teaching methods. But he was still somewhat human and possessed a shred of empathy. Jone was still trying to figure him out, but a few more days with him and he'd crack the code. He was sure of it.

As he walked out of the classroom with his bag slung over one shoulder, Jone came upon the bitch being flanked by her older brothers, and one of the rugby players who'd laughed at her uptight ass. He was looking rather intimidated by the trinity. Jone's eyes flickered between the siblings and Jessie. Very slowly and deliberately, he moved between the two groups. "Hey there Nevaeh," he said with a cheerful smile. "What's up?" As he talked, Jessie inched away with a grateful look on his face. "What did poor Jessie do to you?" He asked, trying to keep their attention on him as the jock left. Jessie disappeared behind the corner of the nearest hall, and slunk into a classroom. Jone nodded to the brothers. "Hey guys. Congrats on the win at the wrestling championship. I heard you blew them out of the water."
 

Saiga

You bet your Rom Tom Bottom!
Nevaeh glared as the vamp came into her space. She backed away with her brothers staying close by. "Don't act like we're fucking friends Jone," the girl hissed at him. Today the girl was wearing clothes to accommodate the growing chill outside, but still look good once her layers were stripped. Around her neck was a blood red scar. Her torso was covered in a plain button down blouse. Around her waist was a knee length black skirt. Her slim legs were covered in soft, woolly tights, and on her feet were bright red knitted boots. Her brothers keep it simple with dark jeans and thin sweater shirts she surely picked out for them.
"You know what he did because you started it! Now get lost before I have you gutted." She didn't at all appreciate his presence, but her brothers weren't as hostile as she was. "It was easy," Brice said folding his muscular arms across his broad chest. Bruce nodded in agreement. "Bitches didn't stand a chance." Both twins look identical, but they could be told apart by the horizontal scars cutting across the sides of their shaven heads. Brice's scar was on his left, and Bruce's was on right. Nevaeh sighed as her brothers replied to her enemy. "You're not supposed to talk to him," she grumbled.
 

Jester

Can we pretend airplanes are shooting stars?
“Nevaeh, can I just say you look amazing today? I love that skirt! I might get it for my sister if you tell me where you found it!” Jone gave her a friendly grin. “What do you mean, I started it? I didn’t say a word to you or about you the entire class.” He’d been too busy cringing in pain. Speaking of which. “Do you have an advil, by any chance?” He asked her brothers. “I ran out yesterday.” As he spoke, he made a mental note to buy the entire shelf of advil the nearby pharmacy had, as soon as he became a billionaire. It was his poison, and he wasn’t in the least bit ashamed. Some had coffee. Others drugs. He had advil. It helped keep the ringing pain in his head and the tremors in his hands at bay. “Why can’t you guys talk to me, anyway?” Jone asked, zipping up his hoodie and taking his bag off. “Is it because I’m an atheist?” He dug through his bag and pulled out the flowered notebook he’d bought at the dollarstore near the school the day before. “Miranda said to give you this for your birthday, by the way.” He told Nevaeh, handing her the notebook. “She said it was yesterday and that she’s sorry she couldn’t come. So...happy birthday, I guess. How old did you turn?”
 

Saiga

You bet your Rom Tom Bottom!
The blonde growled before rummaging through her expensive purse and pulling out a small bottle of prescribed pain killers. By the look of the bottle, they were definitely something stronger than advil. "Here," she said tossing the bottle towards him. "Take it and just fuck off will ya?" She sighed and crossed her arms as her brothers continued to disobey her and reply to Jone.
"It is because you are beneath us," Bruce said, looking down at the younger teen. "You are middle class, and we don't won't to associate with the likes of you." Brice stepped in and continued for his twin. "You are the bottom feeders that keep this city clean by cleaning up the trash while we walk all over you filthy bodies." These surely weren't the boys' words. All while they spoke, Nevaeh had a small smile on her face. This smile didn't last very long once she was offered the late birthday gift. She cringed before snatching the cheap notebook from his hands. "Fuck. Off," she growled before she turned on her heel and stomped off, whether or not her brothers followed was none of her concern, but her shadows did indeed stay close to her as she left the vampire standing alone.
 
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