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Darian Green

LAST YEAR, FINAL DAY OF THE TERM

"Darian, hello, glad you could make it."

Darian didn't understand why she always had to say that. Every time Darian showed up she was met with that greeting, as if it was some kind of ordeal for her to make the journey from her room to the counselor's office in the main school building. If anything it was an annoyance more than anything else but an annoyance that prevented an unwelcome guest from knocking on her door. If there was one thing Darian hated, and that was a lengthy list as is, it was adults dropping by and throwing a wrench into every single gear possible. Still, Darian had come to...not enjoy but accept that part of her curriculum in the Academy was to spend an hour or so every other day talking to someone who couldn't quite make it as a legitimate therapist and so takes a teacher's salary. 

Her bleached hair was fashioned into a bun and despite it being the final day of school for the term, Darian wasn't in uniform as she entered the counselor's office. The office was familiar to the dark skinned student, serving as something similar to a constant in her school life. Various inspirational photos hung on the walls with a diploma tossed into the mix. Darian's eyes were always drawn to the clock even as she took a seat on the couch propped against the right wall; of course the delinquent propped her boots onto the arm, tracking mud into the off color stain on the armrest. 

 "Ms. Green, your attendance this term was...lackluster. You spent more time in detention then you did in class and I'm told the janitors were threatening to quit after your little...food disposal event."

 "You mean the food fight? The classroom still smells like spoiled milk." Darian spoke with pride, tossing in a curt chuckle as she recounted the events in her head. She had been hoarding milk cartons in her room for months just to ensure they were perfect for the changing of the seasons. Old milk being tossed around in the middle of the warm season was not a welcome scent for the unfortunate people that were part of the event. Darian thought it was hilarious, though.

 "You've skated by this term when it comes to academics. Surprisingly you set the curve in biology and were...second overall in history...barring your literature grade - you'll have to repeat that next year - you only just managed to move up a year. But unfortunately I don't believe our sessions have had any impact on you. I know you'd prefer to have an elective, what student wouldn't, but honestly I'm not sure you HAVE any electives you'd genuinely enjoy participating in...so come next term our sessions will continue."

 "I'm jumpin' for joy."

 "Ms. Green, you should really consider taking your education seriously. I'd like to give you some goals to work on come next term. You can get started on them over break. Number One, I'd like you to make friends...or at least try to be more...sociable. Number Two, I'd strongly consider that YOU consider joining a club next year. Clubs are a great way to meet friends and form connections that you can only get at a place like this. Number Three...please treat the rest of your classes with the same level of attendance and care as you treat your biology classes. You have so much potential, Ms. Green, and you're throwing it all away."

Darian had heard the spiel about potential so many times that she was silently mouthing the phrase right along with the counselor. Darian made no promises of any sort, responding with vague replies and rude deflections until their scheduled time was up. Before Darian left she hung in the doorway, turning her head to glance back at her best friend on staff.  "See you next term."

Never had those words sounded so devilish.

PRESENT DAY

"FUCKIN' NERD!" Darian shouted towards Alex as her snowball wound up hitting him rather than the Freshman it was intended for.  "She's not gonna fuck you for takin' a snowball for her." Darian continued to mock the boy while laughing to herself at the incident. Her laughter lingered just long enough for someone she didn't expect to find in front of her. 

The girl in front of Darian went by Gigi and she was the first person Darian thought of when she thought of the word 'goody-twoshoes' which, shockingly, was a term she thought of fairly often and rarely for good reason. Darian accepted the bag with a clicking of her mouth.  "...Fuck is this?" Darian asked under her breath and was going to ask for a response directly from the horse's mouth but when she glanced back, Gigi had already vanished inside, no doubt on her way to be the good little academic darling. 

Darian opened the bag, noticing the muffin and the cinnamon roll cakes contained within. Wiping snow on her jeans - Darian was wearing not the school uniform but instead an old pair of rather tight jeans and a dark blue shirt with a music label logo across the chest - she grabbed one of the cakes and, after giving it a curious sniff, she took a bite. Just a single bite, big enough to get a taste but small enough to not simply inhale the thing in one go. After swallowing the initial bite, she crushed the cake in her palm and tossed the flakey, cinnamon treat onto the snow. She did the same for the other cinnamon cakes, squeezing them until they were utterly smashed and looking as if they had been stomped on, before tossing them onto the floor. 

She did, however, keep the muffin intact. 

Coming as surely a surprise to those already in the room, Darian opened the door to her assigned class, still not wearing the uniform and snow caked on her boots and dripping off of her all the same. Her right hand was thrust into the pocket of her jeans while her left had Gigi's pastry bag dangling from her fingers. Her eyes scanned the room until they passed by the familiar figure that was Roza.  "Fuckin' perfect."

After taking note of the seating chart...and then promptly ignoring it as she sat down in the desk assigned to Alex...though not before playfully kissing her lips as she glanced towards Gigi, Lena, and even Melanie; propping her wet, snowy boots on top of the desk itself, she placed the baked muffin onto Roza's desk with a little amount of force, though not enough to make the pastry crumble. 

 "Baked you somethin'," Darian boldly lied,  "I know how much you liked my...muffin." Darian followed up her rather crude entendre by cackling as if she had made the most hilarious remark possible. 

 "Pssh, fuckin' Ghoul Kid's in this class? I gotta look at this pale ass-creep all year? Fuck right outta here."

That she was currently seated in Alex's desk didn't seem to enter into her mind. Instead, she was simply leaning back, cackling to herself.

Dizzy

Destiny. The old man spoke of destiny as easily as others speak of their own hobbies and habits. Dizzy was no believer in destiny. Some might have considered the perilous journey from her home to her present location a stroke of good fortune or, yes, destiny given that so many others came so far, so close to safety...only to meet their bitter end while the one who would've welcomed their own end not only lived on but stood in a lecture hall with others who were most likely eager and excited to run headlong into danger. And their own end. But to Dizzy that wasn't proof of destiny at all. That was sheer coincidence. She wasn't special. She wasn't like the person who made it colder, she wasn't like the coin twirler, and she wasn't eager to seek death out herself. She would welcome it when it came, and she was well aware it was coming, but seeking death wasn't in her plan.

And yet, the old man's words gave Dizzy pause. Perhaps that's all he had wanted to do. Perhaps he had seen in her something Dizzy had not seen in herself. Or perhaps he just enjoyed being cryptic and speaking in platitudes. Regardless of the intent, the moment's hesitation, that pause in Dizzy's movements was just enough to keep her inside the lecture hall as the time limit expired. One window closed, or a door in this instance, so surely another would be opened down the line. Whether she wanted to or not, Dizzy's lot was thrown in with the rest of the girls.

The words the Director spoke rang hollow to the raven haired girl. What great cause were they dying for? There was no noble purpose, no great deed, just clueless adults trying to bandage a gaping wound with a single slip of adhesive. Dizzy was silent as she, and the others in the class, were shuffled along back to the row of beds.  "Destiny? Potential? Crazy old fool must be blind," Dizzy spoke to herself as she sat up in her bed, legs bent upwards and chin resting atop her knees.  "We're all going to die anyway. What difference does it make if it's here or outside...." Dizzy spoke as if she was trying to convince the most important person of all, that being herself, that staying was the right choice.

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