Dilemmas of Westmaster's High
folder
Angst › General
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
2
Views:
677
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Angst › General
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
2
Views:
677
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Hannah's Odd Behaviour & Chelsea's Secret
~*~
Hannah opened her locker and shoved in the remainder of her stationary. Making sure no one was looking, she took out a crumpled piece of paper which made her heart flutter and her stomach complain of butterflies. She unravelled it slowly, not wanting to miss anything. She then held it up to her nose, taking in the scent of musty paper, imagining it to be her object of affection’s scent. Hannah was very much a dreamer. Always wanting things that were completely out of reach.
“Uh, what are you doin’?”
Caught off guard, Hannah quickly spun around, and clutched the note tightly, hiding the evidence.
“Nothing! I was just… getting ready for my next class, you know…” Hannah replied.
“Riiiight… and what exactly were you snorting then, hmm?” Paige pointed towards the note in Hannah’s fidgety hands.
“Oh, that. Yeah. You see, my… grandma, she writes me letters,” Hannah answered, then added, “On rose-scented paper. Yeah. That’s it.”
Paige flipped her messy blonde-streaked hair and stared at Hannah questioningly.
“What?” Hannah asked, looking back at Paige. “I like the smell of roses! Is that such a crime?”
“Dammit,” sighed Paige, “I was hopin’ you had some of the good stuff if ya know what I mean…”
“Oh, no-no-no. Nothing like that. I don’t--”
Hannah’s voice was rudely interrupted by the sound of the school bell. Lunchtime came to an end and the prospect of Science was upon her. Oh, how she detested it.
~*~
Chelsea was completely distracted during Art Class. Her mind couldn’t stay on the ‘masterpiece-inspiring’ arrangement of assorted pots and plants on the table in front of her. Instead, her mind wondered into the depths where she very rarely allowed it to go.
[FLASHBACK]
“I didn’t do it on purpose, Blake!” Chelsea explained.
“Dammit, Chels, you’re sixteen! This wasn’t long-term and you know it!”
Blake nervously paced around the room. The thought of Chelsea’s father, Rob, finding out about what he’s been up to with his daughter started to dawn on him. Blake had been working for Rob at the small mechanic workshop for ten years. They were best friends, work-colleagues, and often shared a drink or two at the Loaded Hog Bar. Blake could lose his job, his best friend, his wife, his family--
Chelsea sat on the edge of his unmade bed, her face stained with tears.
“I thought you loved me? You said we’d be together when I’m eighteen and we’d move away from this.”
“What are you stupid? I have a family! I’m best friends with your dad! We fucken work together! Hell, I’m as good as dead right now, you know that?” Blake ran a trembling hand through his slightly greying hair.
Chelsea looked at the ground, trying to hide the uncontrollable tears that flowed from her eyes.
Blake sighed as he made his way towards the bed and sat down beside her. He lifted her chin up to face him. His voice oozing with false concern and honey, caressing her cheek as he spoke.
“Sweetie, they don’t have to know okay? We can get through this if you just… make a teeny-tiny appointment like a good little girl so we can forget about this accident and move on with our lives, eh?”
“I can’t do it, Blake. It’s wrong.” She turned away from his smiling face.
Blake’s kind approach didn’t work on the stubborn Chelsea. He attempted to bottle up his anger yet failed.
“GODDAMN IT! THIS WHOLE FUCKED UP MESS IS WRONG! JUST GET RID OF IT!”
Sure, she was young and naïve but she never saw it coming. She believed all his talk of getting married, having a couple of kids, seeing the world - all his endless promises… Perhaps she was stupid, she thought. Stupid enough to fall in love, stupid enough to fall pregnant, and stupid enough to think Blake wanted it as much as she did. She would have given anything at that moment to undo everything.
[END FLASHBACK]
“JUST GET RID OF IT!” “JUST GET RID OF IT” “JUST GET RID OF IT”
Blake’s booming voice echoed over and over in her head. Tears began to form as she mindlessly doodled over the blank piece of A3 paper in front of her. Keeping her mind on the task at hand became increasingly difficult as time continued to drag on.
“Ah, Miss Fraser,” called Mr. Kearney as he approached Chelsea’s desk. She attempted to hide her pitiful work of art.
“Having difficulty with today’s assignment, I see?” He commented sarcastically.
Chelsea refused to say anything. It was common knowledge that Mr. Kearney loved a good show, and he would try his hardest to pry one out of her.
“Stick figures and whatnot are not considered Art, Chelsea. It’s not acceptable in my classroom. If you don’t take observational tonal drawings of glorious still-life seriously, then perhaps you shouldn’t be here. I expect you to treat this subject as you would any other subject. Is that clear?”
A few muffled giggles could be heard. Then there was dead silence.
Chelsea glanced up at Mr. Kearney and took a moment to look around her. She felt the eyes of the class on her, waiting for an outburst worthy of a standing ovation.
“Yes, sir,” she merely replied.
“What have you been doing all year? I was marking the portfolios this week, Miss Fraser, and I did not come across yours. Where is it?” drilled Mr. Kearney.
“It’s at home,” Chelsea sheepishly answered.
“It’s no use at home, Miss Fraser.”
Mr. Kearney strolled over to the front of the classroom and scrawled Chelsea’s name across the blackboard.
“Detention in the Library. I’ll be taking note of your attendance.”
Heartless bastard, she thought. Whether her thoughts were on Mr. Kearney or Blake was anyone’s guess.
~*~
Hannah opened her locker and shoved in the remainder of her stationary. Making sure no one was looking, she took out a crumpled piece of paper which made her heart flutter and her stomach complain of butterflies. She unravelled it slowly, not wanting to miss anything. She then held it up to her nose, taking in the scent of musty paper, imagining it to be her object of affection’s scent. Hannah was very much a dreamer. Always wanting things that were completely out of reach.
“Uh, what are you doin’?”
Caught off guard, Hannah quickly spun around, and clutched the note tightly, hiding the evidence.
“Nothing! I was just… getting ready for my next class, you know…” Hannah replied.
“Riiiight… and what exactly were you snorting then, hmm?” Paige pointed towards the note in Hannah’s fidgety hands.
“Oh, that. Yeah. You see, my… grandma, she writes me letters,” Hannah answered, then added, “On rose-scented paper. Yeah. That’s it.”
Paige flipped her messy blonde-streaked hair and stared at Hannah questioningly.
“What?” Hannah asked, looking back at Paige. “I like the smell of roses! Is that such a crime?”
“Dammit,” sighed Paige, “I was hopin’ you had some of the good stuff if ya know what I mean…”
“Oh, no-no-no. Nothing like that. I don’t--”
Hannah’s voice was rudely interrupted by the sound of the school bell. Lunchtime came to an end and the prospect of Science was upon her. Oh, how she detested it.
~*~
Chelsea was completely distracted during Art Class. Her mind couldn’t stay on the ‘masterpiece-inspiring’ arrangement of assorted pots and plants on the table in front of her. Instead, her mind wondered into the depths where she very rarely allowed it to go.
[FLASHBACK]
“I didn’t do it on purpose, Blake!” Chelsea explained.
“Dammit, Chels, you’re sixteen! This wasn’t long-term and you know it!”
Blake nervously paced around the room. The thought of Chelsea’s father, Rob, finding out about what he’s been up to with his daughter started to dawn on him. Blake had been working for Rob at the small mechanic workshop for ten years. They were best friends, work-colleagues, and often shared a drink or two at the Loaded Hog Bar. Blake could lose his job, his best friend, his wife, his family--
Chelsea sat on the edge of his unmade bed, her face stained with tears.
“I thought you loved me? You said we’d be together when I’m eighteen and we’d move away from this.”
“What are you stupid? I have a family! I’m best friends with your dad! We fucken work together! Hell, I’m as good as dead right now, you know that?” Blake ran a trembling hand through his slightly greying hair.
Chelsea looked at the ground, trying to hide the uncontrollable tears that flowed from her eyes.
Blake sighed as he made his way towards the bed and sat down beside her. He lifted her chin up to face him. His voice oozing with false concern and honey, caressing her cheek as he spoke.
“Sweetie, they don’t have to know okay? We can get through this if you just… make a teeny-tiny appointment like a good little girl so we can forget about this accident and move on with our lives, eh?”
“I can’t do it, Blake. It’s wrong.” She turned away from his smiling face.
Blake’s kind approach didn’t work on the stubborn Chelsea. He attempted to bottle up his anger yet failed.
“GODDAMN IT! THIS WHOLE FUCKED UP MESS IS WRONG! JUST GET RID OF IT!”
Sure, she was young and naïve but she never saw it coming. She believed all his talk of getting married, having a couple of kids, seeing the world - all his endless promises… Perhaps she was stupid, she thought. Stupid enough to fall in love, stupid enough to fall pregnant, and stupid enough to think Blake wanted it as much as she did. She would have given anything at that moment to undo everything.
[END FLASHBACK]
“JUST GET RID OF IT!” “JUST GET RID OF IT” “JUST GET RID OF IT”
Blake’s booming voice echoed over and over in her head. Tears began to form as she mindlessly doodled over the blank piece of A3 paper in front of her. Keeping her mind on the task at hand became increasingly difficult as time continued to drag on.
“Ah, Miss Fraser,” called Mr. Kearney as he approached Chelsea’s desk. She attempted to hide her pitiful work of art.
“Having difficulty with today’s assignment, I see?” He commented sarcastically.
Chelsea refused to say anything. It was common knowledge that Mr. Kearney loved a good show, and he would try his hardest to pry one out of her.
“Stick figures and whatnot are not considered Art, Chelsea. It’s not acceptable in my classroom. If you don’t take observational tonal drawings of glorious still-life seriously, then perhaps you shouldn’t be here. I expect you to treat this subject as you would any other subject. Is that clear?”
A few muffled giggles could be heard. Then there was dead silence.
Chelsea glanced up at Mr. Kearney and took a moment to look around her. She felt the eyes of the class on her, waiting for an outburst worthy of a standing ovation.
“Yes, sir,” she merely replied.
“What have you been doing all year? I was marking the portfolios this week, Miss Fraser, and I did not come across yours. Where is it?” drilled Mr. Kearney.
“It’s at home,” Chelsea sheepishly answered.
“It’s no use at home, Miss Fraser.”
Mr. Kearney strolled over to the front of the classroom and scrawled Chelsea’s name across the blackboard.
“Detention in the Library. I’ll be taking note of your attendance.”
Heartless bastard, she thought. Whether her thoughts were on Mr. Kearney or Blake was anyone’s guess.
~*~