Second (History Plays, Book 1)

10: let him complain unto the see of hell

Gaveston

"In twelve hours and fifteen minutes our parents will be here. Do you know what that means? Do you have any idea how long it takes me to look like a respectable member of my social class? I'll give you a hint. It's longer than twelve hours and fifteen minutes. And what are we doing? We're standing. In the middle of a field. At fuck all o'clock at night. All because some morons 'got left in a basement for seven hours' and had to 'pee into a utility sink' and 'three students ran around while SWAT teams were raiding the school' and 'the only people who followed proper shelter procedure were the fuckheads hiding in the basement and then they got left there' and 'nobody follows emergency procedures' and we 'need practice' well I'll give them emergency procedures all right if my parents even get an inkling of the way I or any of you garbage people really are!!!" Isabella sleeps in hello kitty shorts and a victoria's secret t-shirt so that's something I didn't need to know.
"Okay um, is Isabella okay do we think?" Edward asks, very calmly, as he and Teddy sit on the back of a truck. To paint the picture, we are all in the parking lot, following a fire drill, at two am.
"No, Edward, she is not okay," Clare is holding Isabella back from actually killing me, "Look at her. Does this look okay to you?"
"No, that's why I asked," Edward says, very slowly.
"And you! You—have the nerve, the gall, to come out here, into this already impractical, entirely too long situation, NOT WEARING A SHIRT???" Isabella, still trying to kill me.
"This is how I sleep," I say, shrugging. I am a little cold so Teddy and I were dancing. We quit when the girls came to shout at us. Well, just Isabella, but I'm counting Mannix as unhelpful because she's just watching and eating popcorn. Teddy isn't cold, Teddy is wearing two sweatshirts because instead of getting dressed properly or dressing me Edward was throwing clothes at him telling him he'd catch cold.
"Do you have any idea the number of running schemes and betting pools that go down to get you even partially disrobed? Do you? We had to pause a French test because you rolled your shirtsleeves up, do you not realize the amount of delays your body causes? Do you? Do you not see that?" Isabella is nearly crying.
"I'm sorry, all right? I'll put on a shirt, Edward, give me your shirt," I say.
"I don't have a shirt," Edward, clearly wearing a t-shirt over a sweatshirt. "I don't know what shirts are."
"She's upset," I say.
"She'll be okay," he says, glancing at her unconcernedly.
"We'll be out here until dawn," Isabella is sobbing, "Then I'll get no sleep and I'm already going to need half the day—,"
"Shh, they know it's parents weekend, they won't keep us out that late," Clare says.
"These are the people who lost them??? What kind of foresight or planning are you crediting them with?? And why??" Isabella just starts crying.
"Oh, you have a point," I say, sitting down on the back of the truck as well.
"I mean, you have to admit we obviously need the emergency planing," Mannix says. So, Rose and Swan has been doing emergency preparedness drills on a nightly basis ever since that time that Dean Alleyn forgot a third of his student population existed and left us in a basement for seven hours, and honestly we need to stop. We're getting worse. Not better. As in, we're getting worse since the time three students evaded a SWAT team for hours and the rest hid in various closets and one third of the student population got completely forgotten and left in a basement for seven hours. Yeah. Worse than that.
"All here? Nice," Mortimer walks by with a clip board. For whatever reason Coach deputized him to take count of people and distribute snacks and he does not take these jobs seriously at all. As in, he just ticks down the list without actually looking for people. Like at all. And then he throws chips and trail mix packets full force at our faces without counting how many we might need or want.
Dean Alleyn stands at the front of the parking lot, megaphone in hands, "WE WILL DO THESE DRILLS UNTIL YOU CAN RESPOND APPROPRIATELY TO THE APPROPRIATE ANNOUNCEMENT. THE NEXT PERSON TO SAY 'BUT MY HAIR' AND REFUSE TO LEAVE A SHOWER FOR THIRTY MINUTES WILL BE WRITTEN UP. THE NEXT PERSON TO ATTEMPT TO EVADE CAPTURE BECAUSE YOU THINK IT IS FUNNY WILL BE GIVEN ADDITIONAL DUTIES. AND I DON'T CARE HOW MANY OF YOU THERE ARE. THE NEXT PEOPLE TO START A CHANT OF 'TAKE YOUR SHIRT OFF' TO ONE PARTICULAR STUDENT, WILL BE SUSPENDED FOR TWO DAYS. I DON'T CARE HOW ATTRACTIVE YOU ALL FIND HIM IT IS HARASSMENT AND IT NEEDS TO STOP."
"I think he's really losing his mind," Edward, who absolutely started a chant of 'take your shirt off'. This happened last night, just so you're aware, for when he denies doing it.
"You participated in that, hell, you probably started it," Isabella says.
"I really don't remember."
"Edward, that was last night."
See?
"PIERS GAVESTON PUT SOME CLOTHES ON AND NO MATTER WHAT THEY SAY OR OFFER TO PAY YOU DO NOT REMOVE ANY MORE. NOW YOU ARE ALL DISMISSED."
I wince, blushing, "Can somebody seriously lend me a shirt?"
"No," Clare is only wearing a t-shirt and shorts.
"I still don't know what shirts are nor do I own any," Edward says, flatly, eating Mannix's popcorn and staring at me.
"Stop being an ass," Isabella just starts taking his sweatshirt off.
"No—off, I don't have many pleasures—ow—,"
"Do you want him to get back on the megaphone?"
"Like, a lot of people are staring at us. Like a lot," Teddy says.
Mortimer walks by and throws a balled up Admirals T-shirt at my head as hard as he can. Not the one he was wearing, he's in long sleeves as usual.
"Thank you!" I say, and he flips me off. Whatever. We don't have to be friends.
"No!" A small gathering of the female student body and Edward, as I pull the shirt on. It's too tight so they sigh in relief. I smile and wave a little.
"Okay, cool, time to go back to bed," Edward hops up and wraps an arm around my shoulders, "Let's go boys, morning run comes early."
"We'd better not be still running," Isabella groans.
"We are still running and skating at six, see you in a few hours," Coach Marlowe says, toasting us with a coffee cup.
"I hate him," Isabella says.
"I thought you hated me?" Edward asks.
"Don't worry, I hate you more."