Post by professorpineapple on Apr 27, 2012 21:26:14 GMT -5
Been working on my fic, and I was wondering if you guys would mind looking over what I have so far? Not sure if it's really working so far.
Any crits on grammar or content would be super helpfuly :>
---
Bullworth Academy's auditorium seemed unusually cramped on that first day of school. Attending the orientation ceremony was mandatory, and under the watchful eyes of the Prefects, it was difficult for all but a few stealthy students to skip out on it. Despite the early hour, the students' close proximity to one another caused old rivalries to flare.
"Move it, jerk, my buddy's sittin' there."
"Out of the way, geek."
"Must you be so close? I can almost smell your poverty."
The musty air buzzed with chatter, amplified by the high ceilings. Students milled about, searched for their friends (and enemies) in the dim, orange light. Lined along the walls were tired-faced teachers in blazers and ties, eyes searching the crowd – for what, it was hard to say. Newcomers weren't hard to spot, with the way they drifted through the masses, looking quite overwhelmed. Among them, Stevie Stapleton let himself be pushed along with the ever-moving herd to avoid being trampled by the upperclassmen that towered over him. Once his eyes adjusted to the darkness, the boy was able to see the pattern of it all.
They appeared to be color-coded. White polos here, dark leather there, green sweaters up front, letterman jackets in the back. In the boxes above sat kids in powder-blue argyle, who stared down their noses at the congregation below. Speckled throughout were hulking figures in navy-blue coats, and unassuming boys donning teal sweatervests. Stevie didn't know who any of these people were, but he decided to find someone in teal to sit with. He'd been given a sweatervest along with his uniform, and though it was two sizes too big, it seemed to be his “mark”. He was a Teal, and he figured that he should stick to the other Teals, so as not to disrupt the order of things. What these colors meant, exactly, was beyond him, but they seemed to dictate the way things worked at this school. To question it would probably be unwise – for now, at least.
So he latched onto the first Teal who crossed in front of him – literally reached out and grabbed him by the arm. It seemed necessary, to keep from losing him in the horde. The boy in question jumped, turned to Stevie with frightened eyes. He was shorter than Stevie, but not by much, with an olive complexion just a few shades lighter, and hair just as dark. His other arm was linked with another Teal's, a doll-faced black boy. Stevie gave them a smile to show that he meant no harm, which the black boy instantly returned.
“Hi there! Wanna sit with us?” He had a voice four octaves higher than it should've been, that grated Stevie's ears like nails on glass. Suddenly, the boy didn't seem very cute anymore.
But Stevie nodded anyway. It didn't matter than this kid sounded like a dying cat, since the ceremony probably wouldn't require much talking. The boy between them frowned, tensed under Stevie's grasp. If the nasally-voiced one noticed, he ignored it, and so Stevie chose to do the same.
“I'm Sheldon!” in his excitement, the boy's voice grew louder, piercing. “And this is my best friend, Pedro!”
Pedro reminded Stevie of a goldfish – big-eyed, opened-mouthed, completely and totally silent. Stevie decided that, of the two, he liked Pedro the best.
Before another word could be said, someone shoved Sheldon from behind. The force was enough to send the skinny boy lurching forward, and with their arms linked together, the other two had no choice but to follow. From over his shoulder, Stevie just barely caugh a glimpse of a whale of a teenager squeezed into a black, leather jacket. Then, they were swallowed by the crowd.
Short as they were, the three Teals huddled together were able to push through the tangle of bodies, and find a place to sit. In the tightly-packed auditorium, it was a miracle that they'd been able to find a pair of seats next to one another. Pedro didn't object to sitting on the floor, despite its layer of dust and mysterious crumbs. A real trooper, that kid.
They were seated among other Teals, Stevie noticed instantly. To Stevie's left, a boy sat and scowled, the expression intensified by his exaggerated features; too-big eyebrows and wide, fish-like lips. Another boy leaned against his shoulder, his face obscured by a mop of thick, brown hair. From where Stevie sat, he looked to be quite dead, but no one else paid him any mind. The frowning boy just looked ahead with narrowed eyes, mumbled seemingly to himself.
“This place is rotten to the core,” he was saying. “Always has been, always will be. I can't wait to just be out of here, you know? Just look at these animals. These people are pathetic, every last one of them.”
And then he noticed Stevie staring, and peered at him out of the corner of his eye. For a long moment, neither of them said anything. Stevie waited, in case he had anything important to say. It was clear that this boy was a seasoned veteran of the Academy, and Stevie had yet to learn the lay of the land, so he figured that any information he could pick up would be useful. But the thick-browed boy wasn't very eager to teach. Instead, he turned to the younger boys with a defeated look.
“I dunno what you did for your folks to send you here,” he said to them, “But it must have been pretty bad.”
In that tired tone of voice, it sounded more like an apology than anything. At Stevie's feet, Pedro squirmed. Sheldon leaned in over Stevie, with a complete disregard for his personal space.
“What d'ya mean?” asked Sheldon, and Stevie caught a faceful of oniony breath.
Stevie nodded gravely. He understood exactly what he meant. n a serious tone, he confessed: “I drank all the root beer.”
The other three stared. With a deep sigh, Stevie held up his thin hands, as if in surrender. The jig was up.
“Literally all of it. I didn't even realize 'til Dad got home and it was all gone. Three whole cases in two hours. That's my record, actually, but Dad wasn't impressed. I guess 'cause he was a Marine, so he's seen some shit. Also root beer is his favorite thing.”
No one said anything to that. Stevie noted the confusion in their faces, and figured that they'd probably need a moment to wrap their heads around the very concept of such a crime. The boy to his left wrinkled his nose at him, and Stevie gave a feeble shrug of his shoulders.
“That's...nice...” said the boy, uneasily.
Then there was a heavy, metallic click, and the stage was flooded with light. A heavy voice from the crowd shouted, “Everybody sit down! Shut your traps!”
As the last of the chatter died down, a tall woman strode up to the podium at center stage. A black skirt-suit hugged her frame in a way that was very flattering, but the harsh lights cast dark shadows into the creases of her face. She looked like something out of an old science fiction movie – a mad scientist's experiment to graft an old hag's head onto a fashion model's body.
“Good morning, children,” her overly sweet voice echoed through the sound system, and was followed by a whine of feedback. “And welcome back to Bullworth Academy. For our newcomers, I'm Ms. Danvers, and I am so happy to see all of your bright, smiling faces once more.”
Stevie glanced around, and wondered where all of the bright, smiling faces were. Maybe somewhere in the back?
“Now, before we begin, I'd like to remind you all that you are to behave yourselves, like the upstanding young men and women that you may or may not grow up to be. Rule-breaking of any kind will not be tolerated during the ceremony. That includes, but is not limited to, shouting, speaking, eating, gambling, throwing, fighting, smoking, the pulling of the fire alarm, or the starting of any fires, no matter how small. Do I make myself clear?”
Her serious gaze swept over the auditorium. Students grumbled amongst themselves, shot each other stink-eyes.
The boy beside Stevie leaned over and whispered, “That was last year. Johnny Vincent torched the back of Harrington's seat during orientation. I saw the whole thing.”
At this, Stevie glanced warily over his shoulder, then remembered that he didn't know what Johnny Vincent looked like, or even who he was. But he hoped it wasn't the fat ginger kid sitting behind him. Stevie narrowed an eye at him, just in case, to show that he was onto him. The fat boy just cocked an eyebrow.
“And now,” said the woman on stage, with gusto, “let's all give a big, warm, Bullworth welcome to your headmaster, Doctor Crabblesnitch.”
Any crits on grammar or content would be super helpfuly :>
---
Bullworth Academy's auditorium seemed unusually cramped on that first day of school. Attending the orientation ceremony was mandatory, and under the watchful eyes of the Prefects, it was difficult for all but a few stealthy students to skip out on it. Despite the early hour, the students' close proximity to one another caused old rivalries to flare.
"Move it, jerk, my buddy's sittin' there."
"Out of the way, geek."
"Must you be so close? I can almost smell your poverty."
The musty air buzzed with chatter, amplified by the high ceilings. Students milled about, searched for their friends (and enemies) in the dim, orange light. Lined along the walls were tired-faced teachers in blazers and ties, eyes searching the crowd – for what, it was hard to say. Newcomers weren't hard to spot, with the way they drifted through the masses, looking quite overwhelmed. Among them, Stevie Stapleton let himself be pushed along with the ever-moving herd to avoid being trampled by the upperclassmen that towered over him. Once his eyes adjusted to the darkness, the boy was able to see the pattern of it all.
They appeared to be color-coded. White polos here, dark leather there, green sweaters up front, letterman jackets in the back. In the boxes above sat kids in powder-blue argyle, who stared down their noses at the congregation below. Speckled throughout were hulking figures in navy-blue coats, and unassuming boys donning teal sweatervests. Stevie didn't know who any of these people were, but he decided to find someone in teal to sit with. He'd been given a sweatervest along with his uniform, and though it was two sizes too big, it seemed to be his “mark”. He was a Teal, and he figured that he should stick to the other Teals, so as not to disrupt the order of things. What these colors meant, exactly, was beyond him, but they seemed to dictate the way things worked at this school. To question it would probably be unwise – for now, at least.
So he latched onto the first Teal who crossed in front of him – literally reached out and grabbed him by the arm. It seemed necessary, to keep from losing him in the horde. The boy in question jumped, turned to Stevie with frightened eyes. He was shorter than Stevie, but not by much, with an olive complexion just a few shades lighter, and hair just as dark. His other arm was linked with another Teal's, a doll-faced black boy. Stevie gave them a smile to show that he meant no harm, which the black boy instantly returned.
“Hi there! Wanna sit with us?” He had a voice four octaves higher than it should've been, that grated Stevie's ears like nails on glass. Suddenly, the boy didn't seem very cute anymore.
But Stevie nodded anyway. It didn't matter than this kid sounded like a dying cat, since the ceremony probably wouldn't require much talking. The boy between them frowned, tensed under Stevie's grasp. If the nasally-voiced one noticed, he ignored it, and so Stevie chose to do the same.
“I'm Sheldon!” in his excitement, the boy's voice grew louder, piercing. “And this is my best friend, Pedro!”
Pedro reminded Stevie of a goldfish – big-eyed, opened-mouthed, completely and totally silent. Stevie decided that, of the two, he liked Pedro the best.
Before another word could be said, someone shoved Sheldon from behind. The force was enough to send the skinny boy lurching forward, and with their arms linked together, the other two had no choice but to follow. From over his shoulder, Stevie just barely caugh a glimpse of a whale of a teenager squeezed into a black, leather jacket. Then, they were swallowed by the crowd.
Short as they were, the three Teals huddled together were able to push through the tangle of bodies, and find a place to sit. In the tightly-packed auditorium, it was a miracle that they'd been able to find a pair of seats next to one another. Pedro didn't object to sitting on the floor, despite its layer of dust and mysterious crumbs. A real trooper, that kid.
They were seated among other Teals, Stevie noticed instantly. To Stevie's left, a boy sat and scowled, the expression intensified by his exaggerated features; too-big eyebrows and wide, fish-like lips. Another boy leaned against his shoulder, his face obscured by a mop of thick, brown hair. From where Stevie sat, he looked to be quite dead, but no one else paid him any mind. The frowning boy just looked ahead with narrowed eyes, mumbled seemingly to himself.
“This place is rotten to the core,” he was saying. “Always has been, always will be. I can't wait to just be out of here, you know? Just look at these animals. These people are pathetic, every last one of them.”
And then he noticed Stevie staring, and peered at him out of the corner of his eye. For a long moment, neither of them said anything. Stevie waited, in case he had anything important to say. It was clear that this boy was a seasoned veteran of the Academy, and Stevie had yet to learn the lay of the land, so he figured that any information he could pick up would be useful. But the thick-browed boy wasn't very eager to teach. Instead, he turned to the younger boys with a defeated look.
“I dunno what you did for your folks to send you here,” he said to them, “But it must have been pretty bad.”
In that tired tone of voice, it sounded more like an apology than anything. At Stevie's feet, Pedro squirmed. Sheldon leaned in over Stevie, with a complete disregard for his personal space.
“What d'ya mean?” asked Sheldon, and Stevie caught a faceful of oniony breath.
Stevie nodded gravely. He understood exactly what he meant. n a serious tone, he confessed: “I drank all the root beer.”
The other three stared. With a deep sigh, Stevie held up his thin hands, as if in surrender. The jig was up.
“Literally all of it. I didn't even realize 'til Dad got home and it was all gone. Three whole cases in two hours. That's my record, actually, but Dad wasn't impressed. I guess 'cause he was a Marine, so he's seen some shit. Also root beer is his favorite thing.”
No one said anything to that. Stevie noted the confusion in their faces, and figured that they'd probably need a moment to wrap their heads around the very concept of such a crime. The boy to his left wrinkled his nose at him, and Stevie gave a feeble shrug of his shoulders.
“That's...nice...” said the boy, uneasily.
Then there was a heavy, metallic click, and the stage was flooded with light. A heavy voice from the crowd shouted, “Everybody sit down! Shut your traps!”
As the last of the chatter died down, a tall woman strode up to the podium at center stage. A black skirt-suit hugged her frame in a way that was very flattering, but the harsh lights cast dark shadows into the creases of her face. She looked like something out of an old science fiction movie – a mad scientist's experiment to graft an old hag's head onto a fashion model's body.
“Good morning, children,” her overly sweet voice echoed through the sound system, and was followed by a whine of feedback. “And welcome back to Bullworth Academy. For our newcomers, I'm Ms. Danvers, and I am so happy to see all of your bright, smiling faces once more.”
Stevie glanced around, and wondered where all of the bright, smiling faces were. Maybe somewhere in the back?
“Now, before we begin, I'd like to remind you all that you are to behave yourselves, like the upstanding young men and women that you may or may not grow up to be. Rule-breaking of any kind will not be tolerated during the ceremony. That includes, but is not limited to, shouting, speaking, eating, gambling, throwing, fighting, smoking, the pulling of the fire alarm, or the starting of any fires, no matter how small. Do I make myself clear?”
Her serious gaze swept over the auditorium. Students grumbled amongst themselves, shot each other stink-eyes.
The boy beside Stevie leaned over and whispered, “That was last year. Johnny Vincent torched the back of Harrington's seat during orientation. I saw the whole thing.”
At this, Stevie glanced warily over his shoulder, then remembered that he didn't know what Johnny Vincent looked like, or even who he was. But he hoped it wasn't the fat ginger kid sitting behind him. Stevie narrowed an eye at him, just in case, to show that he was onto him. The fat boy just cocked an eyebrow.
“And now,” said the woman on stage, with gusto, “let's all give a big, warm, Bullworth welcome to your headmaster, Doctor Crabblesnitch.”