The classes seemed to pass ever so slowly for many. Most of them were introductions and syllabus guidelines. Nothing all the interesting, and nothing all that impressive. Most of the upperclassmen were antsy, ready for the end-of-day challenge; therefore, their relief was great when the announcement was made after 7 hours of sitting around through tedious lectures about how they should act in each class. "Goo-oood Afternoon students! I hope you all had a good first day of school! Now wait a second- It's not over yet! I hope you are all ready for today's challenge. I will now ask that all the boys and girls assemble at the fields on the eastern side of the school for the challenge. The boys won last time; will you live up to your promise for revenge, girls? Make sure to have fun!"
-Jarred- Jarred was already on the roof by the time the announcement was called, laying on his back, facing towards the sky. He ended up staying the first fifteen minutes of every class, then leaving. By his Junior year, most teachers expected this of him, he was always off doing something else as soon as he took care of what he absolutely had to.
When the announcement was called, Jarred slung his backpack around his shoulder and shoved his right hand in his pocket. His fingers ran over the rosary necklace that rested in his jeans, the spartan design of the necklace causing Jarred to smile warmly, something he usually didn't do. Slowly making his way down to the fields, he practically ignored everyone around him, a bubble of space surrounding the teen was formed as people noticed him and almost instinctively made space for him, as if he was a king. His criticizing gaze blind to those around him, simply glaring at the floor as he walked.
Elina was glad when her classes were over. First days were always boring. When the announcement was made, she walked to the field and joined the group that was already there.
Levi was reading in the library when the announcement was made. He was so engrossed in his book that he didn't hear the announcement at first. It took a few minutes to register in his brain, enough time to make him late. He ran to the field.
Jeremiah let out a small sigh of relief now that classes were over, he wasn't exactly enthusiastic about the challenges but after the mind-numbing first day he had, they could be any worse. He made his way out of the classroom and since he didn't know where the fields were followed after the girl who had been in all his classes he broke off from her as soon as he saw where the boys were meeting up on the field.
Ariella looked around seeing that it was her last class already. She heard the announcement getting excited. "Oh yes. Us girls are gonna have revenge." She nodded to herself and grabbed her stuff as she walked towards the locker first, putting on the girls challenge outfit, which was pink and the boys outfit was blue. As she was ready she walked towards the field with the other girls. The boys had their own. "Girls. We have to do this, this year is a must...!" And she was being hella serious too.
Alsum searched blankly for meaning in the flames. It was an empty gesture, born from years of ritual. He saw no meaning. There were four jets of fire, each one ascending from the opened burners of a gas-burning stove top. Their light flickered softly in the clean white acrylic of the stove's surface. It had a calming quality, like the glow of a lamp underneath freshly fallen snow. His mind was foggy. He thought of ancient liturgy, of hidden histories and the narrow snake-like dance of history as it intertwined with superstition. And he thought of what it meant to be cool. A prayer came to mind; an old hymn sacred to his Mandaean faith.
Ul-ablez, Ul ablez, Ul ablez al...
I am burning, I am burning, I am burning for you.
"Alsum." a voice said. "Alsum." He heard his name and awoke from his trance.
"It is time for you to be going to the school, Alsum." his teacher said. He was an older man, dressed in immaculate white. His beard grew wiry and thick. It had went all grey, except for a shock of black that cut through its center like a spine of starless ether. "You have your mission, and it cannot be denied."
"I have not slept, your priesthood." Alsum answered. His eyes had grown heavy over the night. He had turned seventeen, and that meant it was time for his third translation of the Ginza. He had chose Chakobsa this time, not knowing how hard this would be. It was difficult going. The Chakobsa language was dead to the public academia, requiring Alsum to limit his research to Mandaean sources. Chakobsa, too, was a hunting language. It was quick, brutal, and strained by prehistoric simplicity. Sometimes, he felt it was impossible to explain the subtleties of religion with something so crude. This enterprise was sapping his energy.
"We are preparing the beds for Sunday." the elderly priest informed. "You will rest when it is time to rest, but you have other duties now. Remember who you are."
"I am Alsum." Alsum responded.
"You are Also, also." the priest replied. He took no joy from his own pun.
"I am Also." Alsum agreed. "I will go to school, but I will require what is required."
The priest nodded and clapped Alsum on the shoulders. "You will have what you will need. We have always guaranteed this. That is a truth. Now, go down, child, and prepare the world."
The Mandaean enclave was a gentle blend of the old and the new. Its walls were cobbled from varied stones. There were thin slabs of sandstone and hefty blocks of granite. There were porous volcanic bricks and clay-tinged river rocks. Their colors came together like a rainbow, red and yellow and orange and white and black. And brown and grey. No set of stones went without the brown and the grey.
There was, too, furniture that spoke of the old world. Candles and candelabras were common, much more so than the gas lamps that took care of the rest of their lighting. There were Victorian couches, and Egyptian beds. Pillows filled the corners and covered the floor, red satin and velveteen purples mixing with with oranges, goldens, and blacks. But there were modern things as well. The gas stove was not only new, but it was also a holy item. There was a phonograph on one table and a boombox on another. Mandaean laptops lay on the floor as well. Their cases were made from richly colored woods engraved with images like those found in Hindu temples. Despite their ancient trappings, these laptops were very much modern. Alsum cherished his, and lamented that it could never be shown to the people of the School known as High.
When he left the comfort of his monastery home, he was struck by the cold mountain winds. It was snowing, and the blizzard danced around him. The stone foot-paths that connected each part of the monastery was buried in white, and green Lebanese pines bent from the weight of the cruel ice. He heard the cold wail, and felt it biting at his skin. This was no matter. He grabbed onto the zip-line, one hand on each handle. From behind him, carried beyond the violent scream of the weather, he heard the priests' voices rise together in hymn.
Home in the valley Home in he ci-ty Home is not pretty. There is no home for me.
Home in the darkness - those words entered his head as he looked down into the valley below. Swirling snow obscured the rocky mountain cliffs. He knew what was below. He had taken this route before. He took a deep breath and jumped.
His hands were frozen solid to the wooden pegs that held him to the zipline. He could only hear the angry howl of wind and snow, underscored by that the whine of the zipline wire itself as he wheeled down it. Ice spat in his face and blinded him. He contemplated this place, high above the plains. Here had been the ancient marches of the Mississipian Empire. They had fought the Anasazi in these lands, in a time before Europe knew of this continent. He was imagining the experiences of the Mayan chronicler who had seen it all. When the snow gave way, he saw the countryside and examined it with thoughts of history on his mind.
Three hundred feet below him sprawled an endless expanse of dry scrub broken by colorful patches of green and red. There were circular fields too, something that you could not see from the ground. His hands held firm to the zipline, and he descended. It looks as if earth was reaching up to smack him. Even now, after thousands of rides down the line, the view inspired something in him. It was different from the feeling of blind illumination he received from the uncapped stove. It was different from terror. No, this was a feeling of seeing the world at its own speed. It was the understanding of life from the outside. It was the privilege to see the universe as God did.
When the Earth finally did reach him, it happened all at once. He held his breath and struck the ground with a roll. Even after he stopped, his body still felt the pull. It was dizzying. It felt as if he was balancing by one foot on a precipice, constantly slipping only to somehow catch himself before each inevitable plunge. He breathed deep and waited for the feeling to subside. His eyes burned.
He steadied and stood up. This place never changed. He saw the aging farm house, and the clothes line that attached so seamlessly to the zipline he had rode down on. He looked up from where he had came and saw nothing but steel-blue sky. He remembered the saying. 'Some mountains are so tall that you cannot see them. How strange it was that such a thing could be so literal.
He looked back down at the clothes line. There were two steel cross-shaped poles, both draped in sheets. He remembered why he had came. It was time for school, and for his work. He turned around and ambled toward the back door.
In the window of the door, he saw himself. So different from the boy they knew at school. He wore robes of pristine white, and a small white cap on the top of a bush of curly black hair. It was time to change that. He knocked. Before his knuckles could strike a third time, the door swung open. "Alsum" the little bearded man said. "You are late. I am thinking you are late." he grabbed Alsum by the wrist and pulled him inside.
There it was, a banal midwestern kitchen. Linoleum floors with floral designs, stained yellow from years of smokers before this house came into Mandaean hands. Wood cabinets, a refrigerator covered in letter magnets, a collection of Elvis collector's plates. Alsum could smell the stale scent of mildew. On the kitchen table, there were dozens of bottles and jars and boxes, all food or drink or vitamin. They were arrayed neatly, but randomly. Amongst them were unlabeled bottles of colored liquids. Alsum's eyes wandered, and he stared at the collection.
"Alsum." the bearded man snapped. "Alsum. Also. Hello."
"Yes, your priesthood." Alsum answered meakly. The priest looked at him with uncertainty. "Are you feeling how you should be feeling, Alsum?" he said.
"I am tired." Alsum rubbed his eyes. "Just tired."
The priest nodded and smiled. He picked a small bottle from the table. It was orange, and on it was a picture of a little silhouette jogging.
"5-Hour energy?" Alsum said. "Is this the poultice that am to be prescribed?"
"Oh no no, that would not do." the priest replied. "Such a thing is pedestrian and weak. You will be awake for a long time, and you will need you strength. This is a different thing. A greater thing. It will help you to be the Also that you need to be."
Alsum read the label. "6 Hour Energy?" he asked.
"Yes." the priest replied. "This is not a public thing. Only a few have access to its power. It is for the military, and for NASA, and for professional gamers."
Alsum grabbed it and hugged it to his chest. "I will cherish this life's fuel. I will not sleep until Sunday, and I will need all of this." he paused, waiting. "Isn't there another thing I am meant to have."
The priest remembered. "Oh yes! Of course!" he piped up. He grabbed a small plastic bottle of green ooze. "Prepare for school. I will prepare for you preparing." The two nodded at each other, and Alsum swigged the green goo.
He felt it. He felt it all. Adderall to widen his mind. Caffeine made him more aware, and testosterone increased his libido. And there were the male pheromones that he would exude throughout the day. There was a small hint of cocaine and liquor to loosen his inhibitions. And there was mint, so that his breath would smell amazing. This was the stuff. This was the invention. It was a social cheat, and a fuel that any person would wish for. Yet only the Mandaeans owned it, and they did not share. This was their stuff. This was Awesomesauce
He moussed his hair and combed it back. He put on his tightest skinny jeans, and a pair of two hundred dollar sneakers personally signed by DMX. Under them he wore a pair of very hip hop socks. He sprayed a subtle deodorant, and than a strong one that would quickly dissipate and leave a pleasant musk. Finally, the crowning touch. His T-shirt was sewn by an award winning team of Vietnamese seamstresses who had been saved from slavery and flown all the way to California to work in a Tee Store owned and promoted by Vince McMahon. This one was a slim number with bulging seams. It was blue - not the deep blue of the ocean, but a calming baby blue like that of a newly laid robin's egg. On it was the likeness of a muscle-bound viking. Above him, and below him, a phrase was spelled out in bold, capitalized print.
"HEY MAN"
"WE GOOD"
It was a masterpiece of garment engineering, with the right amount of youthful sneer. He put it on and stood in front of a mirror, looking into his own eyes. He began to repeat.
Saoirse grinned at the usual horrible impression her friend di of her. 'Yes, Norly' she said, giving her friend a tap on the shoulder on the shoulder. There was a moment of silence between both girls as each looked each other over, seeing if any major changes had occurred over the summer. Norlandia was stylish and more ladylike, as she was the last time Saoirse had seen her. While she had adopted a pair of posh cowboy boots, a tight sweater, her signature scarf and skinny jeans, Saoirse had gone for a cheap pair of jeans, a baggy hoodie and a pair of cracked white trainers. They couldn't have looked more different yet they couldn't of been better friends.
Stares turned into incomprehensible squeals of delight as both girls jumped into a light embrace, complete with small hops and strange glances from passer-bys. Saoirse became acutely aware that Norlandia's breast size had gone up a size during the summer but chose to ignore the feelings of slight jealousy that growled in her chest. The girls pulled apart and grinned. Despite their difference in height, fashion sense and even interests, both girls had personalities that clicked well. Added to that was the fact they both joined the school later than most other students, who had already formed cliques and friendships.
Their friendship had developed on Saoirses' first day and by the end of just one week, they were inseparable. A similar sense of humour and somewhat cynical outlook on typical teenage life had meant that they alienated a majority of their peers and had formed a close companionship, a grim alliance in a world of celebrity worship and social media. The friendship was different to other girls friendships, however. More time was spent playing Saints Row and listening to hardcore gangsta rap than painting each others nails or talking about boys.
'How was your summer, then?' asked Saoirse. 'About as good as it gets trapped in no-where-fukistan' replied Norlandia. 'Aye, about the same for me' answered Saoirse, shrugging. She had spent most of her summer inside playing games on Steam and browsing forums. A rather interesting thing she'd found on the internet was 'forum roleplaying' and she took part in a nation-based RP called 'Edge of Hostility' (that sounds totally like PoW but it's not, okay?). Apart from that, a quick visit home to Ireland and five all-nighters playing GTA V had been the only other defining moments to the summer. The Maths teacher arrived at the door and held the door open for both girls. He was younger, most likely fresh from college and not expecting much from a dusty midwestern town. A sweater and a happy look in his eye proved he had high expectations with teaching. This would disappear as the year went on and the mononotous shit of every day caught up with him. Saoirse grabbed a seat down the back next to the Wetbacks and settled into a light doze on her desk while Norlandia stretched out next to her, ready to begin a day of classes.
Several hours later, after school...
'Oh, lovely! Pink! I can't fucking wait to go running around in circles while some pervert takes notes on my form!' growled Saoirse, feeling uncomfortably exposed in shorts and a pink t-shirt. If it had been up to her, she would be out in the town with Norlandia finding entertainment or at home playing Scout. But no, the school was forcing her and most of the female students to take part in a few weeks of challenges against boys in stupid sports that she hated. Most of all, she hated the perverted PE teacher was rumoured to be a paedophile and heavy drug user.
-=The Challenge=- As the mass of students filed out from the school, they walked across the wide walkway and dispersed across the well-groomed field. Standing tall above the students was a massive wooden construct with synthetic stones speckled across the surface of the wall. It was quite obvious what the first challenge would be as the 20 harnesses on each side of the rock climbing wall were already set up. Though what was odd was the fact that they all fed to one spool. The PE instructor eventually emerged, yet she likely wasn't the one Saoirse was thinking of, as this instructor appeared to be a girl, and much more agreeable than the image Saoirse had painted. "Good after-afternoon everyone! I'll be your challenge instructor, Mrs. Ebels, but Mrs. E works just fine." She nods with a smile, affirming herself flamboyantly, "I think most of you know what today's Challenge will be. Some might have even noticed the twist. It's rock climbing, except you all lead to one bell and you all are attached to one spool. Here's a special rule for ya: No punching. No kicking. No biting. You can push people off the walls, don't worry, the spool system has a maximum speed of 2 miles per hour, so you'll fall safely. Everything else is simple; climb, and ring the bell before the opposing team does. Boys versus girls. 20 on each side. Have at it."
Jeremiah took his place at the wall and examined it. The one spool would add a bit of challenge to the game but he was sure his strength and conditioning would work to his advantage. He was already marking the best spots to knock the other team off in his mind. He calmly attached his harnessed and waited for the rest of the team.
The smell of corn was heavy on the air as the later afternoon sun bore down on the field. Already the school was converging onto the school's football field, and those not competing were seating themselves on the sagging wooden bleachers that looked out over center field. Expectant chattering hovered over the event as boys and girls watched as their representative teams walked up to the obscene wooden rock-climbing wall erected in the middle of their field. And dressed in a tight form-fitting pink uniform Norlandia busied herself with just how messed up the principle had to be. Did she get off on this? Did the district superintendent not even care? And why did it even take this sort of mismanagement of school funds for her to notice? God knows no one else seemed to care.
“Fucking children of the corn.” she muttered to herself, trying her best to keep the thigh-short shorts pulled down over her legs. She was all for showing some leg, but there were limits. And it's not like she ran track anyways. She entertained herself with thoughts about how she'd nail someone to a stop sign if given the chance.
She heard frustrated grunts alongside her from Saoirse who was having the same problem. You and me both, sister.
Walking up to the base of the wood tower she took a position at one of the many dozen of harnesses hanging from the crown, where looming overhead was a small brass bell. Thick nylon zip chord followed the rocks down, all souring from one giant spool at the top.
What sickly uninformed and uneducated person design such a contraption. Norlandia's face contorted strained and distressed. She knew the school's lotto for this stuff often pitted kids in weird stuff, but each year they always out weird the others. How was one spool going to hold everyone up without getting tangled.
Unless she found an excuse fast, she was going to be a part of this circus. She looked to Saorise, separated from her by one of the many awkward boys. One of the types lacking any sort of self awareness. She looked for some confirmation, or silent agreement that this was silly. And if there was some way to get out of this. A lot to ask for from one look.
Saoirse took her place beside the boy and stood in silence, glaring at the climbing wall and the single chord that swung slowly in front of her. It looked potentially life threatening and she sure as hell wasn't going to risk her life over some girl pride. The wall had pieces of moulded plastic attached as hand and foot holds but the wood of the climbing frame looked ready to fall down to the ground as soon as people reached the top. She placed a foot on the hold and tested it by stamping slightly on it. The entire structure seemed to wiggle a bit. Fuckin' hell. I'm not doin' this! She grimaced at thought of the chords getting potentially tangled and everyone falling to their deaths. But then again, a bunch of teenagers she hated falling to their deaths wouldn't be so bad. It might get her a few days off school. She didn't want to be involved in said falling however.
The boy next to her prepared himself quickly by attaching the harness and chord to himself to himself but beside him stood Norlandia, a look of confusion and annoyance on her face as she stared up the frame. She gave a glance to Saoirse and thankfully, it was a look of 'lets GTFO' rather than one of 'Good luck!'. There was silence along the frame as everyone looked on, determined. 'Fuck this, hey' said Saoirse loudly. The coach, with his large beer belly and uncomfortably tight shorts, came jogging (and subsequently huffing and puffing) up beside her. 'Is there a problem here, Saoirse?' he demanded, his eyes clouded from the residue of some party drug. It wouldn't come to a surprise to anyone that the various broken needles around school grounds came from his heroin abuse.
'Aye. I'll die if I do this!' she growled. 'Nonsense!' snorted the coach. 'I built this myself last night'. Some job, you drug addled wanker. 'It is a requirement of the school to take a part in these challenges unless you can cite a medical issue that prevents you from taking part. And you look fine to me, baby girl, if a little thin. Eat more, you'll get curves someday. Assets are needed by you ladies nowadays' he continued, lowering his voice at the part about her curves. Saoirse silently fumed to herself as she attached the harness and the chord. The coach moved onto another student struggling to attach a harness around her jowls. The Irish girl had already begun plotting, however. She glanced over at Norlandia and nodded.
'I'm not doing this' she mouthed, giving the coach the middle finger when his back was turned. The bastard deserved it, talking about her getting curves.
"Of all the cholerny pojebany things..." Drazenka cursed, desperately trying to stretch her shorts further down her legs. For any woman, such small shorts would be plenty revealing, but with a figure buxom as hers, Drazenka experienced substantial trouble, not to mention the fact that the tight-fitting pink shirt she wore was having trouble containing her substantial E-cup bust. "A tiny uniform and a bright pink shirt... Ugh! Would it really be so hard to give us more substanital clothing?" She grumbled, trying to maintain some sense of composure despite her gym uniform. Trying to distract herself, she began to sing softly to herself as she made a slow march towards where she was told to meet the rest of the student body.
Legiony to żołnierska nuta, Legiony to ofiarny stos, Legiony to żołnierska buta, Legiony to straceńców los,
My Pierwsza Brygada, Strzelecka gromada, Na stos rzuciliśmy Nasz życia los, Na stos, na stos!
She was only able to finish singing the second verse before a tall, wooden structure caught her eye. It looked to be some kind of climbing wall, but, upon noticing the twenty cords strung through a single spool, Drazenka found herself in doubt. "Please tell me this lottery isn't as bad as I'd heard..." She grumbled, approaching two girls that looked just as dissatisfied as her. "Are they making us climb that fucking deathtrap?" She muttered, an expression of anger and confusion on her face as she looked to Saorise and Norlandia.
Jarred grins at the challenge, perhaps there were some people unwilling to actually compete, but he didn't feel like going up against weak competition anyway. He was already thinking things out as his smile turned wolfish. The wooden structure seemed more like one of those old wooden roller coasters at some amusement park, but it didn't really bother him, if there was some good players, this could get real fun. Strapping himself in tightly, he glanced at the spool at the top of the wooden construct. It was about 50 feet tall, closing in on a little more than 4 stories. The spool was rather multiple pulleys hooked together, though it really didn't add to how safe the system was, Jarred liked it that way, added stakes where all he had to do was not lose.
Jarred hear in on the complaints from the opposing team, a boring bunch if he ever heard one. All he heard was whining. "Hey! You don't have to if you don't want to! Leave it to the actual athletes if you'd like, whining is for the runts of the pack, so why don'tcha file back to the back of the crowd and let some actual competitors on." He had a slight German lisp though it was just that; slight. His expression was hard as stone, as if he was serious, though really this was the only time he could lay back and enjoy half-hearted companionship. He readied up beside Jeremiah.
Norlandia caught Saoirse's apprehension, and knew it all to well. Standing at the base of the structure it looked to be in violation of at least a dozen safety codes. And hearing the excitement of that Jared creep from the other side of the wall only helped to continually affirm this town was too crazy. She had one more year, she wasn't about to see it wasted by breaking her neck on this contraption. But unless she could find a way to shoot herself in the foot then and there, there wasn't going to be an excuse to back down now. She could try to get a splinter, but she somehow felt that was out of the question. This whole thing needed to be called out.
Disconnecting the harness from its anchor, she only confirmed the danger. With everyone still on the ground yet or not hooked up, nothing was going to be pulled up. It only spelled catastrophe for the first bastard to fall. But to play along with the coach, she hesitantly fitted the limp harness to her and waited for the call. And the bloodsport.
The 6-Hour Energy had kicked in and the Awesomesauce was pulsing through him. Alsum's mind had reached peak consciousness. He hid seeking eyes behind a pair of custom-designed Ray-Bans. He saw the coach - an unusually shaped zombie of a man who held nearly all of his body-fat on his stomach. The skin in his arms stretched tightly around his muscles. When he tensed, his muscles pulled visibly under his skin. When he loosened, his muscles expanded. Sickly veins stuck out under the skin, purple and blue and bruised red, and needle scars left tracks in his skin. His legs looked too thin, and the outline of his skull was apparent, but he still wore that belly. It looked more like a tumor than blubber.
Wind whispered through the corn. The fields stretched on for miles, growing against the judgement of the dry Oklahoma soil. There was something dark in those fields. His sect had been assigned here for that reason. Something old, and something hateful. It used bland simplicity of this land to cover itself. Would it ever be revealed? Alsum did not know. He kept a watch on the edge, where the fields met the schoolyard. It was instinctive. Someday, he expected to catch a glimpse.
"Top'o da mwernin' to yee Ladeo." He heard the awkward strains of a familar voice. He looked to his side and saw Janeway Jugelstein, the senior member of the Irish-American club. She had been a member since she entered high school four years ago, and she might have been president if it weren't for her inability to stay awake during their meetings. She had the same problem with classes as well. According to here, she was diagnosed narcoleptic, but in his subtleties of her behavior and scent Alsum could tell otherwise. Janeway's problem was that she had been babied sense she was a child, and that she had no true understanding of what effort was. It was because of the arm she had been robbed of at birth.
That was the other point of contention in Miss Jugelstein's story. She claimed to have been born without a left arm, and that she had been robbed of it by nature. A congenital defect. Alsum suspected otherwise. There were markers that suggested a hatchet job on the part of the doctor who delivered her. It was peculier.
"Top of the mornin'" Alsum replied with a sharpened smile. His voice was awash in honest empathy. He put his hand on her shoulder (the good one) and took a deep breath. "Is that Corned Beef?" he asked.
Janeway squealed like a helium-breathing bobby-soxer at a personalized Elvis concert. "Yes" she said, her voice threatening to become a dog-whistle. She talked fast. "I and DeSelfown made invented it with my grandmas lye soap kit. It is a deodorant."
That was weird, but Alsum expertly feigned acceptance. He also had caught a whiff of cabbage, but suspected that it had nothing to do with the deodorant.
Janeway wandered off, leaving Alsum to think about the challenge. It was well thought out. Using one spool for all of the students was a recipe for a violent clusterfuck. Alsum accepted that it would be necessary for him to circumvent that fate. There were other problems, though. The structure was unsound. Clusters of half-hammered nails tangled together where there should have only been one. The was a suspicious lack of support beams, whereas other beams looked like they had been glued. The stones themselves were also questionable. It was early yet, and dew still slickened some of them. It looked as if they had been pulled from a creekbed, some sharper than they should be and others most likely clay. He knew that poor safety precautions had caused trouble in the past. One year, the school had chose Five-Finger-Fillet as the game. It ended when a particularly rambunctious student managed to get so excited while stabbing the knife between his fingers that he passed out and slammed his head onto the table, forcing a pencil up his nose and lobotomizing himself in the process. After that, the school banned pencils from the playground and suggested students use pens instead.
Still, Alsum was a leader. He had nothing to fear. Years of conditioning, both physical and mental, made this task a simple one for him. It was what this task meant to his persona that worried him. He knew that he should focus on guiding the game to a safe conclusion, but there were other truths that had to be considered. Where would he end up? He decided second place, or third place if his focus on safety distracted him enough. To achieve first place would be folly - that would inspire jealousy, and a jealous student body would not do.
"Ayy, principal. Safe me a spot." he shouted. "Let's get our game on!"
Drazenka sighed, shaking her head at Jared. Lazily, she hooked herself into her harness, and gave the rope a hard, solid tug, to ascertain whether or not it could even lift her. It seemed like the rope could hold her at least, but she was still worried that the ropes would get tangled or that the whole contraption would fall to pieces, though she was a bit excited by the thought that that Jared creep would fall and crack open his skull.
"I could snap you like a twig, whiny little prick!" Drazenka quipped, smirking slightly. "But, if you're stupid enough to want to break your neck on this thing, go ahead! I won't complain. "After high-school, your dick-waving contests won't get you anywhere, you know. You'll end up a grossly overweight jobless pig."
(Lets get this moving. I'm assuming everyone is hooked up and ready to go?)
The whistle blew so loudly it almost felt like her ears would explode in a flurry of blood. When it finished, the boy next to her immediately jumped up and started trying to climb. She lazily brushed a hand off of a handhold, bored and hoping this would end as soon as possible. From this angle, Saoirse got a good view of his arse but it was unfortunately a disappointing arse, like a lump of clay. Disappointed, she turned her head and saw Norlandia standing at the bottom, not moving. A few places down stood Drazenka, who had been shouting abuse at Jared just moments before. She too stood at the bottom, not moving.
Like the suffragettes in England, like the blacks in the South, like the heretics in that Mel Gibson movie, the girls were united in their belief that this school system was fucking retarded and all the kids in it were slaves to the bourgeois of a principal, a heartless overlord who's only goal was to further her own pocket with coin and bathe in the tears of small children and cute animals. The coaches (who did her bidding) stood back, watching the teenagers with hungry eyes, their lips licking their whistles in lust and occasionally shouting words of encouragement to the kids who struggled up the wall. They were just waiting for the pain.
Above her, Saoirse could see very few people were getting higher than a few feet. Obviously, this one spool idea hadn't been thought out very well. Or rather, they hadn't considered there would be a few rebellious teenagers in the mix. 'Fuck this' grunted Saoirse. She flopped down onto the ground, her chord shaking dangerously. The boy who had previously been beside her shook and almost fell off. 'Hey, watch it, Saoirse!' he shouted. 'I almost fell off!' 'Go fuck yourself' she barked back.
She drew her knees up to her chest and rested her head on them. It wouldn't be too long until they could get out of here.
With the shrill piping of some hellish whistle they were off. The spectral echo of the hellish note had hardly blew out from her ear when the combatants alongside her had raced up the wooden tower. In an instant the calm Oklahoman afternoon was filled with a rambunctious and ecstatic cheering of a hundred kids and the banging of feet against wood. The tower groaned sickly as it shifted with the weight of the young boys and girls that greedily climbed up like chasing gold. There was a slavish, zombie-like automation in their expression that betrayed all humanity and allowed them to forget that this was a terrible idea.
Especially given the school's history; she still remembered too well the pencil lobotomy. She had been there when that poor boy put the eraser of a number 2 clean through his eye. Watching these insane souls climb up she heard that wet squishing and meaty cracking of that pencil piercing his eye at every step.
The boy next to her and Soarise – he had to be no older than fifteen – had shot up without hesitation, and already his grip was suggestive to his actual skill. Furthermore the limp rope that was supposed to protect him hung flaccid off to the side. Dropping down behind him and smacking against his featureless, doughy ass. It was very indicative to the safety of this whole mission, and why she didn't climb.
She could have climbed to try and save everyone, but that would imply getting Soarsie and That Pole to climb too. But from the pre-climb trade offs none of them were willing. She could only stand and wait and be there to say, “I told you so” along with the other two.
And maybe, just maybe, there was money to be made.
She stepped away from the wooden climbing tower. Uneasily looking up its heights. Behind her she could feel the unapproving glare of the coaches running up and down her back. She wasn't going up. She had failed them. Or at least the head coach. But she didn't care. A life after school and cornfields was too important to her. Daddy had told her, “Don't you go do fucking stupid shit”.
And here it was.
And watching dough-ass, she knew it was coming soon enough. He had already slipped once, blaming it on Soarise without a second thought. Then climbed again. But when he reached out to touch a stone smooth and still slick with morning and noon dew there was no doubt to his fate.
Norlandia's skin went cold as she looked up as he leaned back from the tower. Arms flailing in open air. Her breath froze solid in her chest as he parted from the side, his bare feet unable to contain the leverage. He must have had faith in the system somehow, because he didn't scream. But when he realized he was no longer anchored and the rope too loose at his side he did scream. Painful and frightened as he plummeted down like a sack of bricks to the Earth below.
With a thump he hit the grass, bouncing limply as his weight first came down over his shoulder before his ass could catch up and recoiled him back up. In a snap of a finger his body was limp and his head fell back onto the cool grass, eyes shut and mouth opened lazily.
“Holy Jesus fucking shit!” Norlandia screamed as she recoiled back from where he had fallen. She threw herself back as he heart drummed excitedly in her chest. Her head pulsed with mixed feelings of shock and horror, but total sickened knowing this would happen. She could do it. She could say: I told you so.
And he lay there. His fingers twitching painfully at his side.
