Later that day
Class was as boring as always.
It wasn't that Clyde didn't understand the material; he was one of the top students in the school. It was that the work was so... easy. He had done it before, in many ways, shapes, and forms. After all, writing was just about tweaking what you've already learned, adapting it into something unique.
But this was the 5th research paper this year.
The moment he received the outline, Clyde had shoved it into his bag, not caring one bit if the damn paper got ripped to shreds.
Sure, he could do the paper; it would only take him about an hour to get the sources he needed, and only twice that time to write the paper out. But the fact that he had to drove him nuts. He was the best fucking writer in the whole damn school. He didn't have to prove this over and over, right? He slumped over, laying his head on top of crossed arms. Clyde was about to doze off, when a voice interrupted him.
"Are you alright, man?"
Clyde grunted. Anton was sitting next to him, as he always did-his perfect posture contrasting Clyde's slouching. He was frowning at him, eyebrows creased, in the way that meant he was concerned about something.
Clyde rolled his eyes. "Yes, Anton. Everything is fine. Just, dying of boredom, you know?"
Anton raised his eyebrows. "The usual, then?"
"I don't see why we have to do this," Clyde muttered, ignoring the jibe. Anton always made fun of him for being so sullen-or, at least, that's what he said Clyde was being. He preferred to think of himself as "emotionally honest"; he always showed how he felt.
And he always felt like shit.
Anton gave him a dour look before turning to look at his outline. He hadn't put it away like Clyde had-no, he was too "responsible" to do that- and flipped through a couple pages before groaning.
"Mm?"Clyde looked up, and glanced at Anton's outline. He, of course, hadn't read his own copy yet, so he didn't know what was caused the groan.
Anton leaned forward and massaged his temples.
"Well?" Clyde prompted, sitting up to meet Anton's eyes.
He glanced at Clyde in annoyance."We have to conduct our own investigation."
Clyde blinked. "You're kidding."
Anton looked exasperated. He buried his hands into his hair, and mumbled that no, he was not kidding; that was what the paper said. Clyde grabbed the outline and took a look.
"Hmm... let's see...'English III end of quarter essay'...mhm, normal...'You are to write a standard research essay'...bet that was copied from last quarter's outline..." He leaned back, ostentatiously reading every sentence aloud-much to the annoyance of everyone around him-until he found what Anton had.
"'Research Criteria'...now, this should be good...ah, here it-"
He stopped.
On the page, in bold print, was a note.
"'All research must be done via your own accord...this means no taking information from published works. You must acquire all information by your own means; this means you must conduct an investigation to collect your-"
Clyde stopped reading. He narrowed his eyes at Anton.
"Ok, this is a load of bullshit."
Anton laughed. "You got that right, at least."
________________________________________________________________________________
TO BE CONTINUED
(Note: See side comment for details)
CITEȘTI
EMPTY
Polițiste / ThrillerClyde Johnson is dead. He remembers dying very clearly. The pain flooding through his system, ebbing away at his vision, until everything went dark, empty. And yet somehow, for the past 4 years, he's still existed. He was almost identical to everyon...
