|
Post by markcohen on Jul 16, 2007 18:52:41 GMT -5
Mark dropped his backpack to the floor and sat down in his seat, thankful it was finally the last class of the day. Explaining how he'd sprained his ankle to half the school was not fun. Especially considering half of the people who asked didn't even know who he was. He watched Mrs. Perez raise an eyebrow as he dropped his crutches to the floor, but didn't respond to her. Maybe she wouldn't ask.
Mark pulled out his textbook and opened to the chapter they were supposed to be starting that day - Italian history. Mark hadn't read the chapter yet, so he was really hoping Mrs. Perez would take pity on him and not ask him any questions. Of course, he knew he wouldn't be that lucky.
|
|
|
Post by allison on Jul 16, 2007 20:38:21 GMT -5
Allison twirled her pencil absently on the desk. She liked history fine, really. it just got a little...dry. Then again...most of her subjects were dry. Important, but boring. She did her best to focus, though while her eyes saw the words, she couldn't really describe what she was doing as reading.
Her concentration was broken even more as Mark set down his crutches beside her. Though at that point, she'd pretty much given up anyway. She didn't know Mark to well, so she didn't really think it was her place to ask what had happened. Didn't stop curiosity from ariding, though.
|
|
|
Post by markcohen on Jul 16, 2007 20:46:44 GMT -5
Mark realized that at this point, attempting to read the chapter would prove futile. He sighed and picked up his backpack, digging in the front pocket for a pen or some kind of writing utensil. Finding none, he mentally cursed and looked around to see who was sitting near him. The guy sitting to his right was useless; he was a jock, and most likely didn't have a pencil himself. Mark usually leant him his extra pencil if they had a writing assignment. The girl who sat in front of Mark wasn't there yet, so he couldn't ask her. And Mark sat in the last seat on his row, meaning there was no one behind him. That left the girl to his left, Allison. He didn't know her well, but he was desperate. And desperate times call for desperate measures, right?
"Umm, hey, Allison," he said. "You wouldn't happen to, umm, have an extra pen... or something, would you?" he asked. He mentally kicked himself for sounding like a bumbling idiot in front of her. Not a good way to make a first impression, Cohen.
|
|
|
Post by allison on Jul 17, 2007 11:56:51 GMT -5
"Sure," Allison nodded, trying to hold back a laugh. It was obvious Mark was shy...and hard on himself. She searched through her pencil case, pulling out a blue pen. "This one okay?" she asked, handing it to him. Some people had weird preferences when it came to writing. Her father would never write in black ink, and it bugged her.
|
|
|
Post by markcohen on Jul 17, 2007 21:04:56 GMT -5
Mark watched as Allison dug around in her things, and pulled out the blue pen. He reached out and took it from her, nodding. "Yeah, thanks," he replied. Thankfully, it was the type with a cap instead of a clicker. He drove his teachers nuts with the clicking pens; he couldn't help that one of his nervous habits was to click the stupid things.
Mark uncapped the pen and wrote the date in the top corner of his notebook. They still had a couple of minutes to spare before class began, so he leaned back in his chair to simply observe. Only a couple of other people had managed to find their way into the class early; it was a senior class, and most of the students would wait until the last possible moment to enter. Mark supposed that senioritis was to blame for that.
|
|
|
Post by allison on Jul 19, 2007 23:34:36 GMT -5
Allison smiled at Mark before (attempting) to refocus on her textbook. History wasn't that hard. In fact, it wasn't har at all. It was so easy it was dull. It was her dullest subject. But sometimes school had to be dull! She kept reminding herself that, over and over and over. So often that her brain focused on that one sentence, instead of the textbook. And that was pretty much the point where she really and truly gave up trying to study. It was a lost cause.
She still had a little time before class to goof off. She twirled her pen again, pulling it back as it got dangerously close to the edge of the desk. There were only about two people she knew and liked in the class, and as luck would have it, they were seated as far away from her as possible. The rest of the class seemed to be composed of jocks and their similarily brainless girlfriends. Fun all around.
|
|
|
Post by markcohen on Aug 20, 2007 21:33:58 GMT -5
Mark sighed and tried to adjust in his seat so that he could prop his ankle up on the book tray of the desk in front of him. All he managed to do was kick the bottom of the seat rather hard. He winced, trying to keep the profanities he thought to himself. They came out as a somewhat stifled grunt instead. Thankfully, the pain in his ankle quickly subsided, but not until after several classmates had turned to see what was going on. Of all the days for people to actually pay attention...
|
|
|
Post by allison on Aug 20, 2007 22:11:38 GMT -5
Allison jerked when Mark hurt himself, succeding in knocking her pen flying off the desk. Yeah, she was bright to day. "Are you alright?" she asked Mark quietly, trying to discreetly grab her pen with her foot. Or at least knock it towards herself. When she failed that, she sighed and crouched down.
|
|
|
Post by markcohen on Aug 20, 2007 22:16:54 GMT -5
Mark nodded in response to Allison's question. "Yeah, I'm fine. My ankle's just still really sore and kind of swollen. That's what I get for listening to my little sister's crazy ideas, I guess," he replied, sighing. He watched as Allison attempted to pick up her pen and went to grab it at the exact same time she did. Thankfully, he managed to avoid bumping heads with her. That would have just made the entire event that much more embarassing.
|
|
|
Post by allison on Aug 20, 2007 22:46:43 GMT -5
Allison winced a bit, nodding her head. Just Mark's description of it sounded bad. "What happened?" she could help but ask. Maybe it was nosy, but she doubted she'd be the only one to ask. She was allowed to be nosy every so often. Maybe.
|
|
|
Post by markcohen on Aug 21, 2007 9:58:57 GMT -5
"Lilly and I were playing around with the trapdoor on the stage. We were trying to get it to work; it's been jammed for years. Lilly was holding down the button, and I was trying to get the door open. It gave way and I wasn't expecting it, so I fell through. My foot got caught on the way down," Mark explained. He sighed. "The doctor said I sprained it, so I'm stuck on these stupid crutches for a couple of weeks."
|
|