Post by Dewey on Sept 12, 2008 0:50:46 GMT -5
((I thought that maybe Bay Ridge has made the switch from public school to prep school at some point during the second generation…just an ideer))
Only a few weeks into freshman year, and Edmund Ashby had already reached his breaking point. Homework was unbearable. He currently juggled four A.P. classes, and its teachers were merciless. Every night, he spent hours completing their homework assignments. Half the time, the assignments weren’t even collected. When the school’s dismissal bell rang, he watched on in despair as his classmates rushed to the bus loop, anxious to return home to play their video games and watch their favorite drama’s. Edmund, on the other hand, was stuck on campus for at least two to three hours further. He was a thespian.
Bay Ridge was renowned for its theater program. Since transforming into a preparatory school, it only accepted a certain number of applicants each year. Middle schoolers underwent a torturous audition process that lasted a number of weekends. Hundreds of diehard actors and actresses slowly dwindled into a fellowship of only thirty students. After over 150 hours of improv exercises, monologue deliveries, cold readings, and the like, Edmund had paved his way toward being one of those thirty. From this point on, he was guaranteed a spot in an entering class at Bedford’s School of the Performing Arts.
This afternoon, though, acting was the last thing on his mind. Arms folded atop his desk, he rested his head upon them, dozing off to catch up on just a few more minutes of sleep. It was the last period of the day. Chemistry, with Mr. Steiner. Edmund swore the guy had to be suffering from a hernia. He was the most straitlaced teacher he’d ever known, and way to OCD about homework. The margin’s all around computer print-out’s had to be this certain length, and this size of this particular font always had to be used, and titles always had to be in bold and underlined, and the student’s name always had to be left justified. It was scary. Even lost in a semi-conscious trance, Edmund could just picture the teacher straightening up his desk like he always did at a quarter to three.
Snippets of conversation trailed in and out of Edmund’s ear doing his nap as well. Mostly girls gossiping about Bay Ridge’s athletes or flirting with the resident heartthrob: Luca Iaconelli. Some were discussing their gown plans for homecoming. A few of the geeks were talking about some multi-player roleplaying game online. One guy ranted about his parents to a nearby friend, and still, there was the sound of pencil to paper as a few classmates tried to get in some chemistry work ahead of time. Then there was her voice. It reminded Edmund of the wind chimes hanging at the front of his house. Or like the bells he often heard around Christmastime.
Liliana Rossi. Even her name was melodious. It felt like a dream, one he wouldn’t mind falling into every now and then.
Everything about her was perfect. The way she laughed, the way her hair cascaded past her shoulders, the way she smiled, the way her eyes sparkled when she did. Edmund had been taken by Liliana since the sixth grade, and year after year, she just continued to blossom right before his very eyes. Now they were freshman in high school, and she was more beautiful than ever. And he wasn’t the only one noticing, either. He suddenly heard Kobe’s raucous laughter fill the room. UGH! Lili’s homecoming date. He spared himself the visual details, and sped out the room as soon as the dismissal bell sounded.
He momentarily considered skipping play rehearsal again, but he’d already run his luck dry with Mrs. Davidson. Only three unexcused absences were allowed, and he’d taken every last one early on in the game. Now, he was as good as nailed to the production. After all, he played the title role: Hamlet. He was just as surprised as the next thespian when the cast list had been posted in the theater hallway. Most assumed senior thespian Allen Bradshaw would steal the spotlight, as he had been doing for the past four years. All he stole this time around was an understudy gig. He and Edmund weren’t necessarily on the best terms as a result.
So much so, in fact, that when Edmund walked into the theater room and detoured to the lockers to stow away his backpack and textbooks, he was greeted with large capital letters and a missing combination lock. The letters were in red, permanent marker, and spelled out “FAERIE” just above the gold plate that bore his assigned number. That’s it.He threw his belongings to the floor, turned on his heels, and stormed to the adjacent room, where the complete cast minus Edmund was sitting in individual desks around a circle, prepared to practice their lines. Edmund ignored the formation and the peace it exuded, and marched straight up to his understudy.
“I thought you’d like to know that ‘fairy’, when used as a derogatory word to denote homosexuality, is actually spelled F-A-I-R-Y. The alternate spelling, F-A-E-R-I-E, as it appears on my locker, refers to the imaginary creatures, like the ones in Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. I assumed you’d know as much, considering you apparently played Oberon last Spring. Nonetheless, if you ever need clarification on proper spelling in the future, at least do me a favor and consult me beforehand. Especially if you plan to write across my personal property with a permanent marker.”
Then, he took his copy of Hamlet from his back pocket and shoved it against Allen’s chest. “Have fun memorizing a dozen monologues. I quit.” Without another word, he left his crew members speechless, as he passed through the doors, letting them slam behind him.
Only a few weeks into freshman year, and Edmund Ashby had already reached his breaking point. Homework was unbearable. He currently juggled four A.P. classes, and its teachers were merciless. Every night, he spent hours completing their homework assignments. Half the time, the assignments weren’t even collected. When the school’s dismissal bell rang, he watched on in despair as his classmates rushed to the bus loop, anxious to return home to play their video games and watch their favorite drama’s. Edmund, on the other hand, was stuck on campus for at least two to three hours further. He was a thespian.
Bay Ridge was renowned for its theater program. Since transforming into a preparatory school, it only accepted a certain number of applicants each year. Middle schoolers underwent a torturous audition process that lasted a number of weekends. Hundreds of diehard actors and actresses slowly dwindled into a fellowship of only thirty students. After over 150 hours of improv exercises, monologue deliveries, cold readings, and the like, Edmund had paved his way toward being one of those thirty. From this point on, he was guaranteed a spot in an entering class at Bedford’s School of the Performing Arts.
This afternoon, though, acting was the last thing on his mind. Arms folded atop his desk, he rested his head upon them, dozing off to catch up on just a few more minutes of sleep. It was the last period of the day. Chemistry, with Mr. Steiner. Edmund swore the guy had to be suffering from a hernia. He was the most straitlaced teacher he’d ever known, and way to OCD about homework. The margin’s all around computer print-out’s had to be this certain length, and this size of this particular font always had to be used, and titles always had to be in bold and underlined, and the student’s name always had to be left justified. It was scary. Even lost in a semi-conscious trance, Edmund could just picture the teacher straightening up his desk like he always did at a quarter to three.
Snippets of conversation trailed in and out of Edmund’s ear doing his nap as well. Mostly girls gossiping about Bay Ridge’s athletes or flirting with the resident heartthrob: Luca Iaconelli. Some were discussing their gown plans for homecoming. A few of the geeks were talking about some multi-player roleplaying game online. One guy ranted about his parents to a nearby friend, and still, there was the sound of pencil to paper as a few classmates tried to get in some chemistry work ahead of time. Then there was her voice. It reminded Edmund of the wind chimes hanging at the front of his house. Or like the bells he often heard around Christmastime.
Liliana Rossi. Even her name was melodious. It felt like a dream, one he wouldn’t mind falling into every now and then.
Everything about her was perfect. The way she laughed, the way her hair cascaded past her shoulders, the way she smiled, the way her eyes sparkled when she did. Edmund had been taken by Liliana since the sixth grade, and year after year, she just continued to blossom right before his very eyes. Now they were freshman in high school, and she was more beautiful than ever. And he wasn’t the only one noticing, either. He suddenly heard Kobe’s raucous laughter fill the room. UGH! Lili’s homecoming date. He spared himself the visual details, and sped out the room as soon as the dismissal bell sounded.
He momentarily considered skipping play rehearsal again, but he’d already run his luck dry with Mrs. Davidson. Only three unexcused absences were allowed, and he’d taken every last one early on in the game. Now, he was as good as nailed to the production. After all, he played the title role: Hamlet. He was just as surprised as the next thespian when the cast list had been posted in the theater hallway. Most assumed senior thespian Allen Bradshaw would steal the spotlight, as he had been doing for the past four years. All he stole this time around was an understudy gig. He and Edmund weren’t necessarily on the best terms as a result.
So much so, in fact, that when Edmund walked into the theater room and detoured to the lockers to stow away his backpack and textbooks, he was greeted with large capital letters and a missing combination lock. The letters were in red, permanent marker, and spelled out “FAERIE” just above the gold plate that bore his assigned number. That’s it.He threw his belongings to the floor, turned on his heels, and stormed to the adjacent room, where the complete cast minus Edmund was sitting in individual desks around a circle, prepared to practice their lines. Edmund ignored the formation and the peace it exuded, and marched straight up to his understudy.
“I thought you’d like to know that ‘fairy’, when used as a derogatory word to denote homosexuality, is actually spelled F-A-I-R-Y. The alternate spelling, F-A-E-R-I-E, as it appears on my locker, refers to the imaginary creatures, like the ones in Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. I assumed you’d know as much, considering you apparently played Oberon last Spring. Nonetheless, if you ever need clarification on proper spelling in the future, at least do me a favor and consult me beforehand. Especially if you plan to write across my personal property with a permanent marker.”
Then, he took his copy of Hamlet from his back pocket and shoved it against Allen’s chest. “Have fun memorizing a dozen monologues. I quit.” Without another word, he left his crew members speechless, as he passed through the doors, letting them slam behind him.