B-Wing Bathroom

( 2 )

Chapter 2 - General Annoyance.

Splintered oak wood desks give the dusty classroom an aura of hesitant stiffness. The professor at the front drones out misinformation regarding the events of years younger, tales of great heroics and western pleasantries rather than the truths of great injustice and economic crisis. His glimmering bald head and white grizzled mustache are all undermined markers of wisdom as the crowds of angsty uncomfortable youths ignore the mis- tellings of stories old.

The walls were that horrible green color, the type of dusty green that might be found in a state penitentiary, or perhaps a storage room. Despite this, color had yet to be invented in the 70's, so it was in all of the standardized classroom styling manuals. Dread is trendy.

Rhett is carving some gang symbol into the desk in front of him, not that he knows what they mean, or cares. The simple fact that the symbol makes authorities offended fills him with childlike glee.

Well, the glee was shortly disrupted when he was hit square in the face with a crumpled Worksheet. Something about FDR and the new deal, the only deal Rhett currently cared about, is whether he was going to kill the kid who hit him now, or later.

"If you have some weird f*g crush on me just say, Tyler." he says, looking behind him at the blond boy in the center of athletically inclined boys. The groupies are killing themselves laughing, Tyler has a disdainful sneer on his pubescent face. Though Rhett appreciates the beginnings of a more rugged guy swimming to the surface, he wouldn't say that, of course, lest he be perceived as a homo. Which he totally isn't.

Tyler retorts that "You wish,  punk shit, the only action you get is from old men with poor vision who confuse you for some geriatric chic."

"Suck a dick, you overgrown spermacite." Rhett says with venom, starting an unflattering sketch of Tyler being hit with a hammer in his notebook. Mr Grey can be heard muttering some arbitrary complaint about his wife, as he lights a cigarette.

Rhett's unflattering caricature has morphed into a portrait with little pencil hearts around it. His eyes widen as he quickly flips the page, forgetting that he drew that while not paying attention. He looks across the room at his girlfriend, Lacy, the person he should be drawing in his notebook. Lacy is great, she's everything you'd want in a girl, she's loud, she's rude, she's got a great body. Broad shoulders and small hips, she used to wear her hair short in freshman year, but she's grown it out since then, her long red locks are constantly in her face.

Rhett loves her, he really does. But he's not attracted to her - like at all. Unfortunately for him, he doesn't know that yet. They've 'done it' multiple times, to use layman's terms, but Rhett just goes vacant minded, and doesn't allow Lacy to pleasure him back, because that's what really causes him discomfort.

His stomach bubbles at the heinous thoughts filling his mind, yet at the same time his heart is elated, pumping shaky excited blood at erratic pace, causing pale skin to flush, hard. He doesn't like it, it's wrong. The feeling, while pleasant in a physical sense, turns painful from thought up anxieties. Like the whole class could read his thoughts. Not that they could, not one student saw even the faintest pinkness in the boy's ears, and even if it could be seen, it would be summed up to rage felt for the blonde jackass behind him.

A low, monotonous voice fills the room, with the gentle 'ksk' noise that follows the newly installed speaker. The voice, about as cheery as a hole filled with dead orphan unicorns, lists the mourning announcements, listing student's academic and athletic achievements  - followed by a half hearted chant of the cultish fever dream that is the pledge of allegiance. At the end of the announcements, the intercom calls a few teens to the principal's office. Rhett smiles, he knows who the kids are, he knows he framed them for his spontaneous act of vandalism in the boy's lavatory. His smile widens when he hears Tyler's name called. Got him.

Rhett had spray painted the dreary blue boy's bathroom with more 'gang' signs, and a whole lot of genitalia.

"Awe, is the pretty boy in trouble? Gosh I hope mummy doesn't find out, she'd have daddy on you in a second." Rhett smirks wryly as Tyler explodes.

"I know you're behind this, Arizona! You're always stirring shit that doesn't need to be stirred. And you find sick pleasure from this, you Bastard!"

Rhett smirks bluntly at him, as he's dragged off to the principal's office.