– Broadripple Starters

it catches her, but she thinks maybe she heard it wrong, or she was misremembering the name of the place they were supposed to be camping in a week’s time. or maybe bridgewater was where they were going but the bridgewater triangle was an entirely different thing. but then they continue. the corners of the triangle: abington, rehoboth, and freetown. wasn’t freetown one of the places they were going too? with concerned features she minimised microsoft word and opened chrome instead. in one tab a google search from the triangle and in another, her school emails open with the information about camp. there was only one freetown massachusetts, just like there was only one bridgewater massachusetts. both were in this bridgewater triangle, both were locations of philip’s war,  and both were where they were going to be camping. oh boy.

she paused the podcast, removed headphones from her ear, and wondered to herself, was this nuts? it had to be, right? she hated to disturb other people while they were working but if they were going to some crazy supernatural vortex, surely people had to know about it, right? “ hey, sorry, ” she said, reaching out a hand to grab the attention of the other person at the table. “ have you ever heard about this? ” she asked, spinning her laptop around to show the wikipedia page. “ the bridgewater triangle, ” she said, even though her companion could surely read that for themselves. “ i think it’s where we’re going for camp– i mean, do you like, ” she paused a second, lowering her voice a little as she continued “ believe in all that spooky stuff? ghosts, and cryptids and whatever? ” because sofie absolutely did, but she wasn’t in the mood to be completely mocked for it.

In anticipation, with little to no consideration for the other students in the common area, Katherine was occupying most of the kitchenette space, working on refining a granola bar recipe that she planned on utilizing for the trip. While she was pretty sure a CLIF bar or even a KitKat would be sufficient for the level of exertion the Broadripple students would be expected to endure during their time in the swamps, she liked to get creative and aside from a mound of homework assignments, sheet music to learn and track meets to train for, she didn’t have much else to do with her time. 

“Hey, stop-” she chimed at a student moving through the area, “Can you just try this for me?” she offered, holding out a baking paper-lined tray with small squares of granola arranged on top, flavored with blueberries, cinnamon, and cardamom. “Wait-” she pulled the tray back a little, “You’re not allergic to anything, are you?” she wanted a taste-tester, she didn’t want to accidentally murder any of her classmates, even the ones that occasionally bugged her for one reason or another. “It’s organic and vegan,” she was pretty sure, “-but there are nuts and seeds and like- spices or whatever, so,” 

           bless her naive, hopeful heart. morgan hoped that after her father’s tuesday evening phone call, in which he was more or less demanding to know how her club activity is going, he would end up… well, not particularly incessant. spoilers: he did. just one hour before this very moment, he rang again, not taking no for an answer. so, what is a girl supposed to go, when she’s been staying as far away as possible from all of these things ( and other forms of optional responsibilities )? LIE, obviously. oh, yeah, dad. actually, i’m switching clubs. my old one sucks. 

           cut to now, as she’s sitting by the edge of a window, feet crossed, a list of pros and cons in one hand and a delicious, delicious shake in her other one. it’s bad enough that he’s starting to check her grades and performance now, let alone the fact that he’s regulating her social life too. SCREW YOU, MALIA. she had to go abroad and fuck everything up for her.

          “ orchestra and band, ” she mumbles to herself, teeth nibbling on the ( ecologically friendly ) straw. “ out. ” a turn of the page. “ it’s almost like i’d need to be talented for this. ” she’s been going back and forth for roughly five hundred hours now. something has to click, right? as her eyes remain glued to a few options she finds slightly viable, there’s a flick of her arm and she tosses the empty shake cup into what she knew for a fact to be a trashcan. and that’s about right. except someone ends up between the projectile and its trajectory right in that very moment. it’s from the corners of the eyes that she glimpses the way the object hits the person’s head. and, dumb as she is, morgan lets her head turn. just enough to make ( uncomfortable ) eye contact.

The problem with a false alarm though was that while the staff searched high and low for something that didn’t exist, Eric and the rest of the swim team got to sit, locked out of the pool, missing their practice time like this prank was somehow their fault. If Eric hadn’t given so much of a shit about being in that water, he might have found the whole thing funny. Instead, he found himself wondering when it was appropriate to leave and do something else with this time because he was sure the second he got up, would be the moment all was in the clear and Fitzgerald would wave them all on inside. Besides, he was starving.

Alas, Eric proceeded to sit, bored out of his brains, and jealously watching other students pass by to their morning activities. “This sucks.” He voiced plainly. “The worst part is there isn’t even another rabbit, someone’s just being a tool.” Bold of a BBC boy to be calling anybody a tool, but here they were.

Veils of secrecy were always so tempting for Theodore. He bore this constant urge to satisfy his growing curiosity, find solutions to whatever was bugging him. Of course, for his parents he was way too interested in all the unexplained matters that rose countless inquiries. Plenty of times he listened to their lectures on how dangerous his inquisitive nature was and how one day it would be his oh-so fatal downfall. He didn’t care that their omniscient God had all the answers and therefore he shouldn’t let those mounting questions about the world (as well as what was beyond it) be at the very forefront of his mind. It was his absolute nightmare — not seeking answers.

Getting far away from home had its perks, actually, the moment he arrived in the state of Massachusetts in his field of view he could spot only advantages. There were several worrying drawbacks emerging at the horizon, but for now he preferred to turn a blind eye to them. Finally he didn’t feel the overwhelming breath of his father on his neck, there was nobody peeking over his shoulder to see what — most likely imprudent — deeds he was up to. Alright, not exactly. He couldn’t deny the haunting presence he was continuously sensing. It could’ve been solely his imagination and he wouldn’t be surprised to discover it was just his mind pulling tricks on him. But it was more entertaining and thrilling to fall for the suspicion it might’ve been something more otherworldly.

Holding a stack of books covering mainly new theology and the archaeology of manuscripts, one title was standing out. An odd man out. Into the bundle he also sneaked in a copy of Lemegeton he brought with himself all the way from Phoenix. At home he was distressed that someday a family member could chance upon it and God knew what punishment he would receive for that. The library was or at least seemed pretty deserted at this hour, so he wasn’t as disquieted about the idea of somebody chancing upon him.

Despite whoever it was in his dorm room that afternoon though, the fact the door was left right fucking open was enough to have Jay’s heart jump into his throat. Stuff didn’t exactly go missing often around this school ( which was, first of all, wild, given that bears died and ghosts haunted people, but whatever, right? ) but his deep love for his Switch and his committed relationship with his Wacom tablet was far too great to even humor the idea that Chris or himself could just… leave the dorm door open for all and any to come sauntering on in whenever they felt like it. He swore… if this was his roommate and that annoying friend of his again, Jay… would probably not do a single thing, but he’d have words about it to the girls later. Lots of words. Ones he might even have to look up in a dictionary first before repeating.

Pushing into his dorm, without even registering the presence of the person who might be inside, an immediate, “What the hell?” jumped out of him in accusation at the lack of security.

 “Whoops,” she uttered a moment later as a blob of chia pudding dripped onto the floor beneath her, her eyes fixed to the screen rather on what she was doing, waving the utensil about. She stuck the spoon in her mouth and licked it clean soon after, to make sure it didn’t happen again any time soon but she wasn’t done speaking just yet, “The Amazonian gives us twenty-percent of our oxygen in the world, did you know that?” she’d learned that from Instagram earlier, in fact. “We don’t need to pray for the rainforest we need to pray for everybody, you can see the smoke from space,” she added, looking into her pudding cup now. It tasted like shit, admittedly but she’d paid $7 to buy it from the fresh food market in Nighmore that had boasted local, organic ingredients and that proceeds went back into sustainable beekeeping, another one of Kat’s favorite trendy causes that week.

It’s not the most traditional activity. Perhaps it’s even meant for someone much older than Damian, but he’s finds some peace in it. It’s not too lazy. Sure, he’s only sitting, but at least he’s doing his part to feed the friends of mother nature. The kerchief of crumbs sits carefully on the hand that rests above his thigh. Minutes come and go and he just… feeds the slow-growing flock in front of him. It’s not particularly exciting but Damian is a bit tired of things happening. They’re always just happening and happening and happening. He just wants nothing to happen for a while. For the next hour, all he can stomach is another pigeon joining the few in front of him. Just the sounds of pigeons cooing, the sprinkle of crumbs to the ground, and Damian being completely and totally unbothered.

“Hey, I promise I’m not trying to break in- I do go here- my card isn’t working,” she held it up as if to prove that she wasn’t some crazed lunatic from the adjacent town, trying to get into a high school dormitory building.

Still, the senior found herself parked on the couch, snuggled under a blanket with her laptop in the common room. It was getting close to lights out when most of the other students had already gone to bed and she was weighing up her options when she heard another student wandering around. In response, she poked her head up, peering over the back of the couch and offering the other student a smile, “Hey,” she greeted politely, shifting her blanket as if it had been her intention to go to her dorm and not stay there watching YouTube all night. “What do you think of the move? Kind of weird- like, I can’t remember where anybody is anymore…it’s going to take some time to get used to again,” she expressed, having considered herself fairly well versed in the dormitory building layout before then.

When he saw color and movement from the corner of his eye, his focus was no longer exclusively consumed by the dimensions of the net in front of him, “Does the fact that I’m waving a hockey stick around as hard as I can not scream ‘watch out’ to you?” he asked the student lingering nearby, whether they were simply passing through or coming to see him or none of the above. “Trust me, you don’t want one of these to the face,” he expressed, tapping one of the hockey balls he’d lined up lightly with the hook of his stick, “I’m speaking from experience,” he added, tipping his chin to reveal a scar on the underside of it.

A sigh left her as she observed a few of her fellow students. In the corner, a boy was picking his nose, trying so hard to be subtle about it. He might have been, as she seemed to be the only one who noticed, but she always had had a knack for picking up on things like that. Her own nose wrinkled a bit in distaste as she looked away, giving the boy his privacy, though noting not to sit at that particular table for a while, lest he decide to wipe whatever he managed to get out on the underside. Her eyes once more returned to the book in front of her, trying so hard to focus on the words, only to blink a bit when movement caught her attention and she realized someone was sitting at the table across from her. Blinking once more, she looked up, her semi-permanent scowl surely etched on her face. “Seats taken.” Her tone, she hoped, showed no room for argument, but she wasn’t sure anyone bold enough to sit with the emo nightmare in the first place would really take her at face value. Rather bold. Ivy could give them that.

“Mind if I steal a little of your shade?” Louisa asked a classmate who had found a nice, shadowy spot to beat the heat in. She was already sitting down before she received an answer to her question, her legs begging her to just give up already. She took a sip from her water bottle and poured a little onto her hand, slapping it onto the back of her neck a moment later in an effort to keep cool. “So, aside from the excessive heat warning and the smell of animal poo, what’s your favorite part of the day so far?” she was being a little sarcastic but she wasn’t bitter about the afternoon’s events, she actually found it kind of funny in a sardonic sort of a way, that the school had picked this afternoon to be exposed to the blazing sun.

“What the fuck--” He’s quick to lean away from the piglet, instantly overwhelmed by the growing mass of steaming ass sludge that shoots out of the once-adorable little fucker. He whips his head up, eyes bewildered at the zoo-keeper who stares at him just as wide-eyed and shocked about the matter. Louie, or so he was told before he took hold of the piglet, is taken away and Chris is ushered out of the pen and to the closest nun in charge. “What do I do?” He asks desperately, terribly grossed out by the state of his cream-colored joggers. “It stinks and it’s like, seeping through my pants and stuff!” His face is twisted into a look of utter disgust, chest puffing up and down rapidly in his panic before he results to whining childishly.

To his misfortune, the sister just does the sign of the cross hurriedly and tells him to stay put  while she figure this out and gets help. Help? He thought she was the help! He turns to the closest student. “Dude, what the fuck. You gotta help me,” he begs, unstable to stand the hot brown mush splattered all over his lap.