[center][color=darkcyan][h2]Blake Warren[/h2][/color][/center] [center][sub]The Previous Day[/sub][/center] Things were just so much better with Chris around. Last night had been one of the best nights he had in quite a long time. Instead of holing himself up in his room to play video games or draw, he actually went out and enjoyed the rest of the day. Despite going against his mother’s wishes, she seemed happy that her sons were spending time together again when they returned home. Of course the two brothers didn’t tell her or their father that they had seen Deadpool, a movie clearly too R rated for a person of Blake’s age, but luckily they didn't ask too many questions about it. Aunt Cynthia was there to distract them from scrutinizing every word that came out of Blake’s mouth. That, and they were actually having a family dinner for once. After dinner, Blake helped clean up at the commandment of his father and Aunt Cynthia left after smothering both Chris and himself in hugs and kisses. Once formalities were over, Blake did as he always did and scurried up to his bedroom to lock himself in for the rest of the night. [hr] [center][sub]This Morning[/sub][/center] The sound of dishes clinking together awoke Blake from a deep sleep. He blinked a few times and rolled over, wondering who in their right mind was washing dishes so early in the morning. As his vision cleared, the alarm clock on his nightstand displayed in vibrant green: [b][color=limegreen]8:47AM[/color].[/b] Like he had just gotten tazed, Blake jumped up from bed and flung his blanket to the ground. “[color=darkcyan]No, no, no, no, no![/color]” He was late for school. Why hadn’t anyone woken him up?! Why hadn’t his alarm gone off?! Without time to dwell on it, Blake rushed into the shower and hurriedly got ready for the day. Luckily school wasn’t far, so he could walk himself there, but his mother was probably going to get a call that he had been missing for his first class of the day. Yesterday had been great, and today was starting off as pure shit. Around ten minutes later, more or less ready for the day, Blake burst back into his room to grab his backpack. Upon entering, he spotted a woman he had never seen before. He froze in place, eyeing the black haired beauty passed out on his bed. He blinked a few times, “[i]Is this real?[/i]” He slowly tip toed around the edge of his room as if he was the intruder, brown eyes locked on her. After convincing himself that he was actually seeing this woman, a real life person sprawled out on his bed, he took note of her uniform. By the looks of it, she was one of the maids that his parents hired to clean the house daily. Oh, hadn’t his mother said something about the elderly maid retiring recently? Perhaps this one was the replacement… a much younger and more attractive replacement… and very, very unprofessional. What kind of person [i]literally[/i] slept on the job? On a complete stranger's bed? If he told his parents about this she would have been fired and reported by noon. Suddenly the paranoia began to settle in. He glanced around his room frantically; how long had she been in his room and what had she seen? The previous maid knew that he liked his privacy and preferred to clean his own room, but this one obviously knew nothing. He couldn’t blame her, but anxiety seized his body. Walking over to his dresser, Blake grabbed an assortment of medications off the top and stuffed them into his backpack. He didn’t need her snooping through his personal business. Loudly clearing his throat, Blake waited for the woman to wake. When she opened her eyes and raised her head, he made his way to the bedroom door. “[color=darkcyan]I’d appreciate it if you stayed away from my room. I can clean it myself…[/color]” He tried to sound as nice about it as possible, but his stern facial expression said otherwise. “[color=darkcyan]Thanks… [/color]” Panicking, he turned and left in a hurry. He probably should have introduced himself, but Blake had zero skills in talking to pretty girls, especially ones that had just been sleeping in his bed. Where was Chris when he needed him? With that, Blake rushed out of the front door and began jogging to school. Hopefully he would make it in time to get to his second class of the day with Ms. Labelle, his Social Studies teacher. [sub][@lovely complex][/sub] [hr] [h2][center][color=darkcyan]Blake Warren[/color] & [color=54C297]Zoey Reese[/color][/center][/h2] [center][sub]Collab with [@BlueAjah][/sub][/center] Ms. Labelle was most definitely one of Blake’s more interesting teachers. While he didn’t exactly [i]enjoy[/i] her, he at least tried to pay attention in her class. It wasn’t the fact that what she taught was particularly interesting or that she was a good teacher, it was just that she would occasionally ream you in front of the entire class if you were caught slacking off. This morning was no different. Thank the lord above that he had made it on time. Apparently nearly the entire class had gotten F’s on the latest test, aside from Blake and two other students. He bubbled up with pride inside, something that rarely happened. Wow! He was actually one of the few to get a passing grade? Amazing! Maybe Ms. Labelle’s teaching methods were actually working. "[color=ffff1a]I said, 'you either pass my class as a group, or you fail it as a group' remember? You seem to have decided to fail as a group, after doing so well all year.[/color]" A majority of the class groaned in unison as the realized what they had done, including Blake. So, another F on his report card to show mom and dad. Pride dissolved in mere seconds. Even when he was doing good, he was doing awful. "[color=ffff1a]Please, alphabetically, I want you all to grab one stick out of that can and return to your desks.[/color]" Quietly, Blake did as he was told and returned to his desk. As Ms. Labelle went over a type of Roman punishment, Blake began to zone out as he twirled his popsicle around on his desk. What was the point in paying any more attention when he was just going to fail with the rest of the class anyway? “[i]Number Eight…[/i]” He examined the number written on the stick in black sharpie, wondering what his eccentric teacher had up her sleeve this time. Surely, it was not good. "[color=ffff1a]Would anyone with the number eight, please stand up?[/color]" Blake looked up, holding his breath. Crap. Reluctantly he stood up from his desk chair, heart racing inside his chest. This was the kind of thing that kept him from actually liking Ms. Labelle. "[color=ffff1a]Please, students, gaze upon your sacrifices with admiration, for they are saving your grades! Warren, screwoff, you two now have 0's. Everyone else? 100%[/color]" Blake sighed, standing in view of the entire class with faintly pink tinted cheeks. He hated having all eyes on him, even if he was standing with one other student who was unlucky enough to have the same number as him. On top of that, he just got a big fat 0 on his test. Mom and Dad were sure to love that. "[color=ffff1a]By the way, everyone. That test is now worth one point. Retest tomorrow! STUDY THIS TIME![/color]" He sat back down in his desk, slumping down as if to hide himself from prying eyes. Well, at least the test wasn’t worth anything. With luck, he’d be able to get an even better grade on the retest. Maybe his parent’s wouldn’t notice and gripe about it after all. Seeing Ms. Labelle write his name right next to Zoey Reese, he looked over in the corner to find the brunette paying no attention to whatever was going on. He hated group projects, but at least Zoey wouldn’t annoy the hell out of him. She probably hated group projects just as much as he did. Blake didn’t know much about her, but what he did know was that she was quiet and just recently went through the loss of both parents. Practically the whole town knew by now. Hearing the sudden crack of a whip made him jump and tense up, his eyes snapping over to Ms. Labelle. This lady was crazier than he was. With that, Blake stood with the rest of the students and dragged a chair over to Zoey’s desk. Setting it at the edge of her desk, Blake plopped down and stared at her. “[color=darkcyan]Hey.[/color]” The edge of his lips cracked the faintest hint of a smile. He had never talked to her before, but now he was being forced to. He’d be damned if he let Ms. Labelle catch him not “obeying orders.” “[color=darkcyan]So… I guess we are supposed to study or something?[/color]” He didn’t have the slightest idea of how he was supposed to be teaching her. Wasn’t this Ms. Labelle’s job? Zoey should have known getting a moment of silence in Ms.Labelle’s class was foolish to even consider. Seconds after she had posted the partners, Blake Warren pulled up a seat beside Zoey. She couldn’t help but shift uncomfortably away. There was a reason she didn’t have any friends. Perhaps it was her attitude but she never seemed to get along with anyone. With the exception of her family and perhaps her music teacher, talking to other people was incredibly awkward. In some ways, being alone gave her more time to think and practice her violin. With friends came a long list of requirements that would most certainly drive her insane too. [color=54C297]“Hey.” [/color]She responded, not even trying to look interested.[color=54C297] [i]Gosh, I should have stayed home today.[/i] [/color] Staring at the neverending clock, she knew this class period would go on forever. Zoey slightly nodded as he spoke again, unsure exactly what she was supposed to say next. Studying for a subject she had absolutely no interest in? Not how she wanted to spend the next fifty minutes of her life. An awkward silence filled their conversation and Zoey took the moment to study Blake’s appearance. Dark black glasses covered his eyes that were the color of acorns. Not a single ounce of meat covered his body and he was rather short, still managing a few inches over her though. He looked friendly but there was no use trying to judge someone by their look. Shrugging, she pulled out her violin music and sighed. School wasn’t important to her, she could fail this class and it wouldn’t mean anything. While she had promised to show up, it didn’t mean she had to try. [color=54C297]“Just pretend you’re studying..”[/color] She mumbled, not even caring if he disagreed. The fact that Zoey showed no interest in talking to him was somehow calming, unlike his previous interaction with Eliza the previous day. Zoey was intriguing in that way, and certainly less intimidating. Luckily for him she also had no interest in actually studying, which suited him just fine - he was no teacher. His eyes looked over her briefly as she pulled out sheet music, noting how she looked similar to the older Reese girl that his brother had briefly dated. What was her name again? Sonia? Something like that… “[color=darkcyan]You play an instrument?[/color]” He asked, removing his gaze from her and looking over the sheet, having no clue what type of music it was. He never had a talent for instruments, even though he tried his hand at guitar once or twice. “[color=darkcyan]What do you play?[/color]” Even though she was giving him the cold shoulder, it was somehow easier to ask questions and attempt a conversation. It would be better than sitting here in awkward silence the entire time, or at least he thought so. Plus, Ms. Labelle was bound to catch on if they weren’t talking at all. With Ms. Labelle in mind, Blake grabbed his textbook and opened it up to the Roman chapter they were supposed to be studying. He had to make them look like they were trying. Scooting his chair around to the front of her desk, Blake attempted to block their “work” with his back to Ms. Labelle. Unless she decided to walk around the room and examine each and every student then it would be difficult to point out their lack of work. Despite her obvious attempts to ignore him, Blake still issued conversation. She would have stayed quiet if he hadn’t asked if she played an instrument. There was nothing more she cared about than her beautiful violin. It seemed all of her time was spent on the lovely instrument. From the way her fingers touched the strings to the enchanting tune that always seemed to possess her, there was nothing she didn’t enjoy about it. [color=54C297]“Yes, I play the violin.” [/color] Zoey stated awkwardly. Conversation wasn’t her strong point and she simply didn’t know how to continue the conversation so she stayed quiet. Blake moved his chair to sit directly across from her and pulled out a textbook, probably the one she had left untouched in her locker. Whoever invented such bulky texts full of useless print clearly didn’t understand that carrying around that much weight was impossible. Of course Zoey’s bag was extremely light, full of empty folders and music. She couldn’t even remember the last time she had taken notes for a class, probably because she never had. Continuing staring down at her notes, Zoey hoped it was the end of the conversation. She thought it quite odd that he even wished to talk to her. Most kids just silently stared at her with annoyance or whispered beyond her back about how slacking she was. Blake seemed to genuinely care and she found it oddly refreshing. Blake nodded as she replied, remembering that she had seen her in the halls carrying a violin case before. “[color=darkcyan]That’s cool.[/color]” For once, he actually did think that was cool. Anyone who could plan an instrument had a special talent that he could appreciate. “[color=darkcyan]I can’t play any instruments.[/color]” He shrugged, “[color=darkcyan]I tried guitar once but my mom said it sounded like I was killing animals, so… I’ll just stick to drawing.[/color]” He smiled, his eyes scanning her facial expression for the faintest measure of amusement. Unlikely, but still. “[color=darkcyan]You know, my older brother dated your sister when they were in high school. She came over a few times, but I don’t think I ever met you. I probably would have remembered… [/color]” He had only meant that he had a very sharp memory, but it came out like he was flirting. Blake was oblivious to the entire notion. Part of her was a little disappointed when he claimed he ‘couldn’t play instruments. People could only get as far as they believed. [color=54C297]“You know, it’s not that hard if you try.” [/color]Of course he would be terrible at first, everyone was. Zoey had spent endless hours practicing to get as far she was. [color=54C297]“All it takes is a lot of effort..”[/color] She muttered, surprised that she was talking as much as she had. Perhaps it was a good thing. As he began to describe his brother having a relationship with her sister, she simply shrugged. Zoey didn’t pay much attention to the love life of her siblings, it was incredibly uninteresting. [color=54C297]“I don’t remember. I usually don’t go out.” [/color]The conversation was slowly becoming more personal and awkward so she decided to stay quiet for good. It wasn’t like her to talk to others, let alone tell them her life story. Zoey wanted no sympathy or pity from anyone, especially not Blake. "[color=darkcyan]I suppose you're right.[/color]" He thought back to his drawings, which also took much tenacity to come up with something even remotely decent. "[color=darkcyan]I guess I just like drawing more, then.[/color]" At the mention of her older sister, he felt the tension rising in the air. Apparently talking about her family was a touchy subject. To be fair, if he were in her shoes then he wouldn’t want to talk about his family either. “[color=darkcyan]Yeah, I only saw her whenever Chris brought her over.[/color]” He replied, beginning to actually look at the textbook in front of him. He wasn’t truly reading the chapter, but looking through the array of pictures depicting Roman life was interesting enough. Silence slowly settled in between them, but luckily the chatter in the classroom kept it from becoming too terribly obvious. Soon enough the bell rang, buzzing loudly through the halls and causing all students to jump to their feet. Blake closed the textbook and met eyes with Zoey, “[color=darkcyan]Well,[/color]” Her eyes were strikingly vivid, and distracting. “[color=darkcyan]I hope you do well on the test tomorrow.[/color]” He stood up and dragged his chair back over to his desk before grabbing his backpack. Zoey hadn’t been so bad to sit with; maybe he could pair up with her the next time Ms. Labelle insisted on grouping up on a project. Those assignments were always awkward for people who had no friends, like Blake and Zoey. Either way, it was time for the next class, then lunch.