Okonuki

Palm Beach Royals: Senior Year

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And then Chanel was off, weaving her way through the crowd towards the only other black girl in the filled hall, leaving Jordan alone in a crowd of strangers. So far, he had enjoyed the company of Chanel, even while pressing through the awkward photoshoot at her house. The other girl was firey and quick with a reply and they had had quite an illuminating conversation on fashion on the ride over. Perhaps these forced partnerships weren’t as stupid an idea as they had appeared during the assembly a few weeks ago.

Looking around the hall, the couples on the dance floor seemed pretty happy- apart from a few select partners with ‘I’m only here for my GPA’ expressions on their faces. Jordan laughed quietly to himself upon seeing one girl trying her best to keep her date as far away as possible while still dancing together. He cast his eyes to the edges of the floor, where students who had taken up chatting with their friends or weren’t quite deep enough in the probably-spiked punch to start shaking it to the brash electronic songs the DJ was playing stayed.

He sensed if Bea had made it to the dance yet she would be there- unless she had pregamed enough for a repeat of her salsa performance at Diablo’s party. Finally his eyes alighted on Kavan, the tall Indian boy’s long dark hair standing out from the crowd. And beside him… or more accurately, wrapped around him was Bea.

It hurt. Only god - and maybe Bea - knew what was happening between him and her. Sure, they’d shared that night on the beach, but by the way she’d danced around it during their conversations she seemed to have forgotten- or wanted to forget- all about it. Well, two could play at that game. If Bea was just trying to piss him off, or if she was looking for someone else, the way her small body clung tightly to Kavan and the arm he had around her was having some effect.

Jordan was going to enjoy this night with Chanel, Bea be damned. He made his way over to where Chanel and her friend lurked around the refreshments table, just in time to watch her dump a small bottle’s worth of vodka into the punch bowl.

"Think anyone will mind?" Chanel smirked at her companion, and Jordan leant around to scoop a glass for himself.

‘I doubt anyone would mind a little shaking up. Those dancers look far too sober for a real party,’ Jordan said, smiling. ‘And I don’t think I’ve met your friend?’ he asked, pointing the question at the other girl.

Palm Beach Royals: Senior Year

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Did Penelope just Scooby-Doo him? ‘Let’s split up so we can cover more ground!’ The chicks on one side and the stoner and his dog on the other. At least that much was accurate, although Declan was sadly dogless. She’d also already left to go mingle with the crowd, leaving Declan with no choice but to follow her instructions and go look for Santiago outside. It was all well good and her to go and search the bottom of the punch bowl, but what was he supposed to do? Turn over the rocks and filthy cigarette butts in the car park looking for a drug dealer? In a slightly fouler mood he left the bright lights and possibility of alcohol behind him and stepped into the gloomily lit car park. The management of the venue clearly put a lot more stock in keeping the front end clean than the back carpark- pieces of rubbish drifted in the slight breeze, spilling from a foul-smelling open skip.

Declan kicked against the edge of the curb, his dress shoe clunking painfully against the concrete. He swore briefly- the leather toe of the shoe was a lot thinner than what he was used to. Nursing his foot, he leant against the outside wall of the hall, feeling the slight vibrations of the music’s bass echoing through. God, what he’d give to ditch this joint and hit up a piano bar or club in town. By now, the nightlife would be kicking off in a good way. Instead he was searching a crappy lot for a drug dealer’s car. How disappointed his parents would be. Not that they weren’t already.

And there it was. A Lamborghini clad in firetruck red that Santiago probably thought made him look cool as fuck, but in reality merely stunk of ‘douchebag with a trust fund.’ Declan would put money on him being the sort of guy who would honk and try to switch lanes to gain a car length during a traffic jam. The driver’s seat looked empty from where he stood, but he moved closer to make sure. Trying his best to avoid looking like either a creep or a car thief, he peeked in the driver side window.

Yep, ‘el Diablo’ must have already gone in. The seat was empty and peeking from the bottom of the passenger side footwell Declan spied a collection of empty bottles and cans. ‘Oh ho, pregaming for Homecoming, eh Santiago?’ He murmured to himself with a smile. Declan rubbed his chin. Actually, he probably should have followed his example. A little alcohol maybe would have loosened him up a little.
Anyways, it was time to return to his date, apologetic but empty handed. While she hadn’t been as uptight as he had expected, being a student of this god-forsaken school for rich pricks, he still wasn’t massively looking forward to being back in her company.

He sauntered back over to the entrance, hands in pockets. What stopped him was the sight of a slight figure, cigarette in hand and cloud of smoke above his head. With all the skipping and tardies Declan had, he’d barely had the chance to meet most of his schoolmates but this one looked a little familiar. His name... Archie? A thought struck him- just how long had the guy been standing there? Hopefully not long enough to notice him creeping on Santiago’s car.
The other thing that attracted him to the boy was the smoke. After an uneasy meeting with his date and the promise of several more hours of enduring shitty music and his stuck-up classmates at least a bummed cig would mellow him out a little.

‘Hey.. Archie. What are you doing out here? Thought the party had only just started in there,’ he asked, slightly edgily.

Palm Beach Royals: Senior Year

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It wasn’t that Declan didn’t want to go to the homecoming. Well, maybe it was a little. His lateness had more to do with the unfortunate meeting of a stray rock and the front tyre of his band van on the way home from a concert. Spending hours on the side of the highway waiting for road service hadn’t been his first idea of a good afternoon, but you didn’t get much choice when your tyre was looking more like a Dali-esque melting clock than a circle.

He’d picked out the suit well in advance- over a year ago in fact, for a cousin’s wedding where he was a groomsman. Who needed more than one suit anyways? Black was a little too cliche, so he’d gone with a navy blue jacket, paired with an electric cyan tie and polished brown shoes. Declan was never really comfortable in such formal attire, so he tried to make it a little more interesting.

Only a few stragglers hung around the entrance to the country club. He checked his watch again. Five minutes wasn’t that long. Spotting what had to be his date across from him, he wandered over and gave her a smile.

‘You look uh... cool.’ Her dress looked like it had fallen the wrong way out of a renaissance fair. ‘Haven’t kept you waiting long, have I?’

She looked him over, the eyes trailing across his navy blue coat, bright blue tie, and brown shoes. Goodness in the eyes of the lord almighty. Brown shoes. The bright tie was bad enough. She did her beat to give him one of her most charming and docile smiles. All the sweetness she could muster spread through her body as the shorter small woman moved toward him and straightened his tie.

“Well,” she replied, “It most certainly could have been longer. Did you secure our tickets?” Her inquiry was accompanied by hands against his chest, a coy and suggestive smile, and bright sparkly eyes that hinted that she knew she might have to pay their way.

‘Tickets… oh yeah.’ Declan moved slightly away from her- the distance between the two of them was a little too close and he didn’t like the way her hands curled against his chest almost flirtatiously. Just because the school had forced the two of them to go together didn’t mean he had to like it. Or make it easy. He patted his thighs anxiously for a second before finding the slips of paper in his breast pocket.
‘Almost thought I forgot them. That’d would have made a fun night, huh?’ he grinned uneasily.

Her smile faltered slightly when it seemed he might have forgotten the tickets and took slight offense to his backing away. Wasn’t she lovely enough to have him in total awe of her appearance? She began to feel she should have put even more effort into it, maybe gotten that adorable dress that was cut short to show some leg.

The tickets appeared and she gestured toward the doors. “Well, onwards then.” She did not attempt to touch him again and simply snatched her ticket from his fingers. As she made her way through the decadent, starlit entrance she could tell she had at least attracted someone as the boy who took her ticket looked hungrily over her form. This helped calm and reassure her ego that the boy she was paired with was just a dope. Maybe he was gay?

The inside was both gorgeous and tacky. There was certainly thought and creativity put into it but the execution was cheaply done. At least in Penny’s opinion. She asked her date. “Shall we get drinks?”

“I think I’ll need several to get me through tonight. Though I guess the school is hardly going to be sponsoring underage drinking with anything good. Hopefully someone’s spiked the punch.” He sniffed at a half-full scoop of the juice. “Smells legal. Unfortunately.”
Declan poured two cups, handing one to his date.

A more natural grin spread over her lips. ‘Okay, that was actually pretty funny,’ she thought as she accepted the glass. Taking a sip she wrinkled her nose. “Tastes legal too.” Much to her disappointment. She was beginning to wish she had brought something bigger than her clutch. Penny could have at least brought a few mini bottles. Her blue eyes turned mischievous as she said, “I’m sure someone here could set us up if we asked nicely enough.”

Declan peered around the dance floor, but it seemed that most of the current attendees were the teachers unlucky enough to draw the short straw on chaperoning. “Man, and I thought we were fashionably late. There’s like no one here. And I somehow doubt we’re going to get a peek at Mr Gomez’s secret tequila stash.”

Penny snorted with derision, “Only if he hasn’t drunken it all already.” The corners of her lips tugged upwards, “I would love to see a drunken Gomez though. I’ll bet he’s a riot.” She downed the last of her cup and held it empty. “Music is kinda lame too. Did the teachers pick it out too?” She was starting feel annoyed by the whole thing again. It was like some old fogey party Daddy Donny made her go to with some stupid rich boy. At least at those parties she was guaranteed to get laid. She regretted not doing a line before she came to this sham of a homecoming.

“They need some live stuff. I’d rather be up there on the keys than down here dancing.” He looked forlornly at the few pathetic speakers they had scattered around the floor, playing seemingly what the teacher’s thought was ‘hip.’ Declan rolled up his sleeve for a quick glance at his watch. “Do you reckon they’ve set a time limit on us? They said we had to show up, not stay the whole time. I bet ten minutes counts enough to walk us at graduation.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “I spent hours on this, I’m not about to leave until I have at least five men drooling at my feet babe.” She grinned and tapped her empty cup. “You know… I’ll be you El Diablo has some good stuff. Maybe we help Senor Stuffy-Pants loosen up? Hmmm?”

‘What, Gomez?’ The english teacher was currently leaning against the wall across from them, a half glass of water in hand and his eyes fixated on the clock. “He already looks like he’s having the time of his life. I bet he wouldn’t even notice a little hit. I think I saw Santiago’s car outside- he must be here somewhere.”

“I’ll look around in here if you want to look around outside? He shouldn’t be too hard to spot. He usually makes a scene.”

I don't understand BBCode

-

I don't understand BBCode

It hadn’t been long after the assembly that Jordan had met the elusive ‘Ms. Martin.’ Or more accurately Chanel had come to him, somehow already halfway through meticulously planning out every detail of the two’s outfits. She had caught him on the back foot, still in a post-assembly funk when she started firing off questions about his preferences, his measurements, his colours… he’d struggled to answer most of them. Capped off with what seemed more of a demand than an invitation to meet her at an expensive tailors that weekend, he had been a little bemused at what seemed to be her very extreme measures.

But looking at himself in the mirror the night of Homecoming, it seemed those extreme measures - and the hefty check - had been worth it. The suit fitted like no other he’d worn, and he had to admit- he looked fine. Damn fine. The black jacket and pants were a classic look, slightly offset by the addition of a brightly-coloured orange tie- his submission to Chanel’s ‘outfit coordination.’ He’d even managed to somewhat tame his wild mane with judicious application of gel and brush. Smiling at his reflection in a slightly egotistic way, Jordan ran a comb through his hair in a last minute touch up with one eye on the wall clock. He’d promised Chanel he’d pick her up at seven, and the minute hand was getting awfully close.

-

Meanwhile, Chanel had just finished putting the final touches on her own homecoming ensemble. As the young woman took a quick peek at herself in the mirror, she couldn’t help but think back on the many hours she’d spent just a few days before, tirelessly working at her sewing machine; finally being able to take in the final product made her crack a satisfied smile. Although the dress itself was fairly basic, the accessories and subtle, bright orange designs that Chanel had embroidered along the sleeves made it look like something you could definitely see hanging on a clothing rack in a high-end shopping outlet. Chanel took great pride in her fashion sense, something that could easily be noticed within five minutes of talking to her, so it surely made sense that she'd want the man who'd be accompanying her to the homecoming dance to match her fly. The young woman chuckled to herself as she thought back to when she finally got ahold of the mysterious ‘Mr. Henderson,’ but wiped the grin off her face when her door suddenly burst open.

“Could’ve sworn I’ve told you and Unc multiple times to knock before coming into my room,” Chanel said as she turned to face her older brother, “I could’ve been walking around in my wig cap or something, Dre.”

“Nothing I haven’t seen before, loser,” the older boy said with a smirk as he strolled inside, “Besides, Uncle J told me to come get you. Your little date just pulled into the driveway and he wants me to take pictures of you two before you leave.” As soon as those few words came out of Andre’s mouth, Chanel couldn’t help but groan and roll her eyes. Sure, Chanel loved taking pictures, especially when she knew that she looked good, but she didn’t want to stay at the house longer than they really needed to; knowing the overprotective nature of both her brother and uncle, Chanel didn’t want them to be too much of an embarrassment.

-

The door was pulled open within a second of Jordan’s knock- the tall black boy on the other side must have been waiting for him. He looked college age. Probably an older brother. Sticking his hands in his suit pockets, he plastered a lazy smile on his face to match the other boys. “Hey, I’m Jordan. Is Chanel in?”

“Of course she is,” Andre said, a wide grin plastered on his face as he placed a heavy hand on the young boy’s shoulder, nearly dragging him through the front door. “She'll be coming down soon; she'd mentioned something about fixing her makeup while I was up there. I told her that you were here, but you know how some girls can be... Chanel, especially.” As the older boy spoke, he kept a firm grip on Jordan's shoulder, leading him towards the bottom of the staircase to wait for Chanel to descend. “But that gives me a little time to get to know a bit about the guy who'll be taking my sister out... maybe even go over a few rules, right, fella?”

Jordan raised an eyebrow at her brother, tilting his head slightly towards the implied challenge in the other boy’s hefty hand. Plus, he didn’t get his clothes ironed very often and their grip was totally ruining his jacket’s creases. “Hey now, a look is free but touching costs extra,” he said, before checking his wrist for an imaginary watch and making an exaggerated grimace. “Ooh, that is a shame. I’d absolutely hate to be late. Might just have to skip those rules and run off with her eyelashes half-on, eh?”

“Absolutely not,” Chanel suddenly interjected as she made her way down the stairs, holding the bottom of her dress and taking quick, careful steps so she wouldn't fall down. Once she reached the bottom of the staircase, she hastily motioned for her brother to begin taking the photos her uncle wanted; the boy hesitantly removed his hand from Jordan's shoulder before grabbing the Canon camera that dangled from the strap on his shoulder. “Don't let him intimidate you, Jordan. It's all just a front.”

Jordan turned away from Andre to focus on his date, sidelining the boy as the main attraction approached. “You look amazing,” he said, flashing a grin. He’d gotten a vague idea of the dress from when she’d been organising and coordinating earlier, but it was a different experience in- and on- the flesh. “Did you make that yourself?” he asked, nodding at the flash get-up.

“Why, of course I did,” Chanel said with a wide grin as she did a quick twirl, “It took me forever to get the stitching just right, but the final product made it all worth it, don’t you think?” But before she could say more, Chanel caught a quick glimpse of her brother’s exasperated expression and decided to save that conversation for a later date. Instead she intertwined her arm with Jordan's and let her usual, goofy grin bow wide across her mouth. As soon as her older brother took a couple of pictures of the two with his camera, she went speeding out of the front door with Jordan in tow.

Palm Beach Royals: Senior Year

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"Well, a lot of things are bad for me. Apparently. Everyday there is a new silent killer on the news. I mean, vaccines have done enough damage according to some. Nothing at all to do with the fact it runs in my family."

‘Oh yeah, you gotta watch out for those vaccines. Last week I was walking in a dark alley and an MMR jumped out at me. Thought it was going for my wallet but the bugger ran off with my terminal rubella.’ Jordan sneaked a peek at what she had been drawing but Bea flipped her sketchbook closed before he could recognize any of the shapes. At her invitation he slumped on the edge of the curb next to her, sprawling his long legs over the concrete and putting his hands backwards to steady himself.

"Want something to eat? What did the powers that be want?" Bea enquired, taking a drag on her smoke. She seemed to be slightly jittery, but Jordan was still too preoccupied with the results of the assembly to ask about it.

‘Homecoming… they’ve decided to take the choice out of it this year and force pairs. Any chance you know Mr. Varma? Cause you might be spending a bit of time with him. And me with ‘Ms. Martin,’ whoever she might be.’ He took a moment to stare at the pavement and pick distractedly at the grass between his fingers.

‘Guess that puts play to us going together, huh?’ Jordan said offhandedly, tying two stems of some wayward flowers together in the beginnings of a slightly miserable-looking daisy chain. He had asked Bea about the homecoming earlier that week, a few days after their night on the beach and her answer had been evasive. To be honest, the whole Bea situation was just confusing Jordan, but he guessed that was what happened when you hung with someone on the spectrum. He was used to most of her quirks by now, but the way she almost seemed to ignore the night they’d spent hurt a little. Or maybe she’d just been too drunk to remember it. Either way, Jordan would be spending the next special night with someone else- whether he liked it or not.

Palm Beach Royals: Senior Year

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Assemblies had never been fun at his old school. Generally they meant an hour of listening to the principal drone, half-hearted claps for the preps getting awards and playing a game of ‘Who can nap the longest before the teacher catches you?’ with his mates. He turned his head to look at the empty seat on his left he’d saved for Bea. She hadn’t turned up and with a teacher standing on the stage testing the microphone it was looking increasingly like she wasn’t going to before it started. He should have known being in a hall full of people wouldn’t be her thing. Too overwhelming.

“Hello seniors!” He didn’t recognize the lady on stage, but she must have commanded at least some respect as the talking dropped to hushed whispers and most of the eyes in the hall focussed forwards. The admin hadn’t told anyone what the assembly was supposed to be about, but rumours were it concerned the upcoming Homecoming dance. Hopefully they’d realised the mistake of cutting the budget in half last week. It had been an unpopular move- no one wanted a half ass dance for their senior year and there was surely no way a school like this was really struggling for money enough to be penny pinching.

“As you all know, our school’s Homecoming dance is scheduled to take place next Saturday evening. I’m sure you all have your little outfits picked out and all of that, maybe even have an idea of who you’d like to attend with.”

He’d brought the subject up with Bea a few days ago. Too be honest, he still wasn’t sure if the blushing and stuttering had been because she was too embarrassed to say yes or too embarrassed to say no. It was a little worrying. Not that being embarrassed was out of character for Bea, but she’d been acting strangely ever since the night of the party. Perhaps he’d come on a little too strong with the kiss. Was it him or her who initiated it? The night was still a little blurry in his memory, fogged by alcohol and the rush of the experience. She’d almost seemed to brush off every attempt he’d made about talking about it- he was planning on bringing it up again today if he saw her.

“But we’re actually changing things up a little this year.”

At this, expressions changed in the audience and the whispers dropped even further into silence as everyone leaned forward in interest.

“See, we’ve noticed that even though most of you all have been with us here at King’s since preschool, there is a severe lack of group unity, particularly in this graduating class. It was especially put into perspective after the colorful incident in the parking lot last month and that is not what we want. King’s Academy is a prestigious school that prides itself upon its values, and some of the core values we attempt to ingrain in each of our students are friendship, empathy and, above all, respect.”

Oh god, what kind of bullshit were they planning on subjecting them to now? ‘Group unity’ was always the kind of crap teachers talked about before they handed out detentions for shit uniforms or dropped a mandatory assembly on everyone.

“So for this homecoming dance, I’ll be in charge of deciding who attends the dance with who, with a little help from these bowls here,” she explained, gesturing to the mysterious bowls on either side of her. “The left bowl has the names of every male student in this class, and the right bowl has the female names. I shall pick a name from each bowl and announce it until everybody has been partnered.”

The crowd seemed almost stunned into silence at the announcement, probably shocked at the blatant abuse of power the school was exhibiting. After a few seconds the students burst into unhappy, subdued matters. Or not so subdued in the case of some.

Seemingly deaf, or perhaps just not giving a shit about the mood of the room, the teacher began the proceedings with a wide grin on her face. Dipping a long-nailed hand into each of the glass bowls- what was this, the Hunger Games? - she extracted the small slips of paper and began announcing names. Jordan didn’t recognize many, to be honest, and it didn’t help that she was going all formal with the surnames. The only ones that stuck out was Bea’s and his own. Of course it would have been too much for the admin to put them together- they seemed to have gone out of their way to pair established couples.

Varma and Martin… the names swirled around in his head. Varma sounded familiar- possibly the Indian guy with long hair he’d met briefly at Santiago’s party. Martin meant nothing to him however. Hopefully Bea would know. With a reminder of how absolutely essential to their grade their attendance was, the teacher dismissed them. The hall was full of frenzied talk and unhappy groans as people compared their partners. Jordan ignored most of it, pushing out his chair and making his way to the green exit sign.

Bea was just outside, perched on the edge of the parking lot kerb. She seemed unperturbed by the flood of pissed-off students coming from the hall, and as he got closer he noticed the headphones over her ears and the cigarette in her hand. A small sketchbook was balanced over her outstretched knees, a half complete drawing of a face covering the page.

‘Bea?’ Still a little grumpy from the assembly, he only managed a small smile. ‘Don’t you know those things are bad for you?’ he said, gesturing at her cigarette.

Palm Beach Royals: Senior Year

Declan Turei

Name
Declan Turei

Nicknames
Dekka, Dec

Age
18

Gender
Male

Sexuality
Uninterested Straight

Relationship Status
Single

Label
Token Maori, Tardy

Appearance Details

Declan’s skin is naturally a warm, chestnutty colour from his Maori father, flecked with small darker spots and freckles. His face is mainly smooth, with a wide, angular shape that tapers outwards into a strong jaw. He has strong facial features to match, with a broad nose and prominent lips. His eyes are an honest, chocolate brown, with slight laughter lines at the corners. Declan’s speciality is the lopsided smile, his lips curving to the left. He is often quick to use it, finding an infectious grin always useful as a calming or uplifting influence.

He likes to keep his hair cropped short, especially on the sides. The dark black strands grow thick and curly, and they can get unruly if he leaves a haircut too long. Not a big fan of beards, he stays clean shaven.
Declan grew up averse to sports or working hard in the gym, meaning he never really gained the muscle mass of the athlete or weightlifter. He also doesn’t eat nearly enough to get fat and so has a quite scrawny build. He stands at an average-ish 5’10”, not tall or short enough to really be of note.

A fan of vintage and slightly eccentric clothes, he loves a good neon jacket or ripped jeans. He makes frequent visits to op shops and second hand stores to hunt for hidden treasures. Unfortunately Palm Beach being the place it is, he has to drive for a while before he finds one. He has a special love for his lennon flip-up glasses, a lucky find in a Goodwill.

He has one tattoo, a tribal band around his right bicep. It’s design comes from a traditional Ngāpuhi moko (tribal face tattoo), a connection to his New Zealand culture even though he moved to America when he was young.

Personality Traits

Friendly - Creative - Laidback - Musical - Unassertive - Apathetic

Declan is the sort of guy who everyone recognizes, but no one really knows too well. While he is only really close with a small band of dedicated friends, he often drifts around groups. He only really gets uncomfortable with some of the more pushy of his classmates, where his passive personality gets overshadowed by their aggressiveness. He can be seen as a bit of a pushover, as he prefers to settle down or leave to avoid fights and arguments.

He never seems to be stressed, always aiming to be a beacon of peace and calm in the wild winds of drama and excitement of Kings. He has always been quite laid back, but it is helped at school by a casual disregard for his GPA and tuning out to music when things get trying.

Declan lives by the old adage ‘treat others the way you want to be treated.’ This means Declan always tries to be friendly and encouraging even if he doesn’t know the person very well. He strives to see past the shit in everyone and look for the heart of gold, even if for some people he might need a telescope. He’s always willing to help you, whether it be wingmanning a friend or a comforting shoulder after a bad day.

His only problem is that the dedication he shows to his friends doesn’t really translate into his own life. A C grinder - or worse - in school, he often skips class if he feels he has something more important on, or even if he just isn’t feeling like it that day. This gets him in trouble with the admin occasionally, but when the parents are as rich as they are in Palm Beach most of the kids get away with much worse things than tardies. He prefers to spend his time working on his music or at concerts and festivals, to the dismay of his father.

Upbringing Synopsis

If there had ever been a couple perfectly suited to each other, friends and family of Joshua Turei and Rosie Shanahan agreed it was them. The unlikely union of Maori and Irish were like soulmates from the moment they first locked eyes. After a short engagement and marriage, they bore a child in September of the new millennium. The baby boy, named Declan after Rosie’s grandfather, had the looks of his father but the speckled green eyes of his mother.
Joshua was working a lot in the early years, establishing a financial consulting business off the back of his double degree in commerce and marketing and so Declan was mainly raised by his mother, a content but unexciting childhood in an upper-class Wellington suburb.

The family’s perfect world crashed down in 2008 when Rosie was diagnosed with stage four breast cancer. With it being caught so late, she had to deal with only having a few short months to live. Joshua sold his 50% stake in his company to his business partner and used some of the large sum making Rosie’s last days the happiest possible- they took Declan out of school and toured the world. Her favorite was the week they spent in a luxury hotel in Palm Beach, with the ocean within short walking distance.

Rosie died that December, leaving Joshua to look after Declan by himself. Seeking a fresh start away from the bad memories, he took his son off to live in the South Florida neighbourhood Rosie had loved. Finding a house in Crown Heights, they settled down. Declan slowly made his way through school and his father fell into a sedentary lifestyle, resting on the dividends of his considerable investments. To his father, every look into Declan’s green eyes was a painful reminder of his lost love and he was determined to protect the young man and give him a good life. Unfortunately to Declan, his father’s protectiveness was suffocating and overpowering.

He soon found himself rebelling against his father’s authority. First there was wagging at school. Then came sneaking out of the house at night for concerts. And then came pot... luckily his father didn’t know too much about that one yet. Too passive to argue with his dad, Declan spends as little time as possible at his home and often ends up couch-surfing or sleeping in the back of his van. This of course drives his father even madder, as ‘no son of his should be living like they’re homeless.’

During his early teens he discovered a love, and a talent, for music. He picked up proficiency on the piano quickly through school lessons, and his teacher realised the boy had a cracker of a singing voice. Rounding off with skills in music production and soundboard usage, Declan was able to play solo or in a band and often did. With particular interest in jazz and rock playing, Declan made his way from performing in front of his classmates to small gigs around town in a few short years. In secret, he dreams of concerts in front of sold-out crowds and tutelage at one of the prestigious music colleges. Hopefully one that didn’t mind too much about his appalling attendance and grades in the non-musical subjects.

At King’s Academy, he has a small group of friends but a wide, shallow social circle. He enjoys knowing most people in his year, and the small interactions he has with everyone. Although he doesn’t spend too much time in school, he always shows up to his AP Music Theory and Music Band classes.

He has missed events so far at Kings due to bunking the first month to pursue a touring band up north and hit up a few music festivals. Who does work in the first month anyways?

Family

Joshua Turei - Father - 42
Rosie Shanahan - Mother - Deceased

Misc.
James Rolleston | #c1a259
ngl Counting the Beat by the Swingers is kind of a jam

Classes
AP Music Theory
Music Band
PE
English
Art (often bunked)

I don't understand BBCode

Declan Turei

Name
Declan Turei

Nicknames
Dekka, Dec

Age
18

Gender
Male

Sexuality
Uninterested Straight

Relationship Status
Single

Label
Token Maori, Tardy

Appearance Details

Declan’s skin is naturally a warm, chestnutty colour from his Maori father, flecked with small darker spots and freckles. His face is mainly smooth, with a wide, angular shape that tapers outwards into a strong jaw. He has strong facial features to match, with a broad nose and prominent lips. His eyes are an honest, chocolate brown, with slight laughter lines at the corners. Declan’s speciality is the lopsided smile, his lips curving to the left. He is often quick to use it, finding an infectious grin always useful as a calming or uplifting influence.

He likes to keep his hair cropped short, especially on the sides. The dark black strands grow thick and curly, and they can get unruly if he leaves a haircut too long. Not a big fan of beards, he stays clean shaven.
Declan grew up averse to sports or working hard in the gym, meaning he never really gained the muscle mass of the athlete or weightlifter. He also doesn’t eat nearly enough to get fat and so has a quite scrawny build. He stands at an average-ish 5’10”, not tall or short enough to really be of note.

A fan of vintage and slightly eccentric clothes, he loves a good neon jacket or ripped jeans. He makes frequent visits to op shops and second hand stores to hunt for hidden treasures. Unfortunately Palm Beach being the place it is, he has to drive for a while before he finds one. He has a special love for his lennon flip-up glasses, a lucky find in a Goodwill.

He has one tattoo, a tribal band around his right bicep. It’s design comes from a traditional Ngāpuhi moko (tribal face tattoo), a connection to his New Zealand culture even though he moved to America when he was young.

Personality Traits

Friendly - Creative - Laidback - Musical - Unassertive - Apathetic

Declan is the sort of guy who everyone recognizes, but no one really knows too well. While he is only really close with a small band of dedicated friends, he often drifts around groups. He only really gets uncomfortable with some of the more pushy of his classmates, where his passive personality gets overshadowed by their aggressiveness. He can be seen as a bit of a pushover, as he prefers to settle down or leave to avoid fights and arguments.

He never seems to be stressed, always aiming to be a beacon of peace and calm in the wild winds of drama and excitement of Kings. He has always been quite laid back, but it is helped at school by a casual disregard for his GPA and tuning out to music when things get trying.

Declan lives by the old adage ‘treat others the way you want to be treated.’ This means Declan always tries to be friendly and encouraging even if he doesn’t know the person very well. He strives to see past the shit in everyone and look for the heart of gold, even if for some people he might need a telescope. He’s always willing to help you, whether it be wingmanning a friend or a comforting shoulder after a bad day.

His only problem is that the dedication he shows to his friends doesn’t really translate into his own life. A C grinder - or worse - in school, he often skips class if he feels he has something more important on, or even if he just isn’t feeling like it that day. This gets him in trouble with the admin occasionally, but when the parents are as rich as they are in Palm Beach most of the kids get away with much worse things than tardies. He prefers to spend his time working on his music or at concerts and festivals, to the dismay of his father.

Upbringing Synopsis

If there had ever been a couple perfectly suited to each other, friends and family of Joshua Turei and Rosie Shanahan agreed it was them. The unlikely union of Maori and Irish were like soulmates from the moment they first locked eyes. After a short engagement and marriage, they bore a child in September of the new millennium. The baby boy, named Declan after Rosie’s grandfather, had the looks of his father but the speckled green eyes of his mother.
Joshua was working a lot in the early years, establishing a financial consulting business off the back of his double degree in commerce and marketing and so Declan was mainly raised by his mother, a content but unexciting childhood in an upper-class Wellington suburb.

The family’s perfect world crashed down in 2008 when Rosie was diagnosed with stage four breast cancer. With it being caught so late, she had to deal with only having a few short months to live. Joshua sold his 50% stake in his company to his business partner and used some of the large sum making Rosie’s last days the happiest possible- they took Declan out of school and toured the world. Her favorite was the week they spent in a luxury hotel in Palm Beach, with the ocean within short walking distance.

Rosie died that December, leaving Joshua to look after Declan by himself. Seeking a fresh start away from the bad memories, he took his son off to live in the South Florida neighbourhood Rosie had loved. Finding a house in Crown Heights, they settled down. Declan slowly made his way through school and his father fell into a sedentary lifestyle, resting on the dividends of his considerable investments. To his father, every look into Declan’s green eyes was a painful reminder of his lost love and he was determined to protect the young man and give him a good life. Unfortunately to Declan, his father’s protectiveness was suffocating and overpowering.

He soon found himself rebelling against his father’s authority. First there was wagging at school. Then came sneaking out of the house at night for concerts. And then came pot... luckily his father didn’t know too much about that one yet. Too passive to argue with his dad, Declan spends as little time as possible at his home and often ends up couch-surfing or sleeping in the back of his van. This of course drives his father even madder, as ‘no son of his should be living like they’re homeless.’

During his early teens he discovered a love, and a talent, for music. He picked up proficiency on the piano quickly through school lessons, and his teacher realised the boy had a cracker of a singing voice. Rounding off with skills in music production and soundboard usage, Declan was able to play solo or in a band and often did. With particular interest in jazz and rock playing, Declan made his way from performing in front of his classmates to small gigs around town in a few short years. In secret, he dreams of concerts in front of sold-out crowds and tutelage at one of the prestigious music colleges. Hopefully one that didn’t mind too much about his appalling attendance and grades in the non-musical subjects.

At King’s Academy, he has a small group of friends but a wide, shallow social circle. He enjoys knowing most people in his year, and the small interactions he has with everyone. Although he doesn’t spend too much time in school, he always shows up to his AP Music Theory and Music Band classes.

He has missed events so far at Kings due to bunking the first month to pursue a touring band up north and hit up a few music festivals. Who does work in the first month anyways?

Family

Joshua Turei - Father - 42
Rosie Shanahan - Mother - Deceased

Misc.
James Rolleston | #c1a259
ngl Counting the Beat by the Swingers is kind of a jam

Classes
AP Music Theory
Music Band
PE
English
Art (often bunked)