#finchiing

Not ringing any bells.  

The face, itself, is recognizable.  One of those boys who know their material, know their books. She bets that he could trace by–laws and legislation easy as the green veins like rivers over the back of his hand.  

( or easy as he combs his hair into that fucking part every morning. )

And yet, not a name for that face. No recollection of the events he’s outlining. And he’s outlining it pretty clear: “ LAST WEEK. WE HAD A  DEBATE IN CLASS. YOU WON. I’M A GOOD SPORT. MY HAIRCUT’S STUPID. ”

    she’s looking at the papers, sure; pointer finger tucked between the two sheets, the edges occasionally fluttering in the bare HINT of a breeze coming in through the window. it’s likely not OBVIOUS that she’s been staring at the same spot on the page for nearly an hour, hair sticking to the back of her neck in the HEAT--- alabama summers were hell on earth, even without the added disadvantage of tight spaces and wood flooring. it might have been a  bit less hellacious to endure if there was anything of NOTE for her to look at, but civil suits were right in league with watching GRASS GROW, and after a moment she sighs, gaze flickering to MR. FINCH as the papers are placed quite suddenly on the edge of his desk. she leans back in her seat opposite him, a hand ghosting over her forehead before she reaches back to move her hair from her neck.

          ❛ might as well take lunch, y’ know. ❜ 

    a beat, arms withdrawn to rest on the arms of the chair, lips pursing briefly before she continues.

The school took pity on Shreve after Quentin--did what he did.  Told him to take a break.  Shreve expected it.  It wasn’t like he paid attention in class or even attended anyway.  Instead of tomes and texts, his evenings were filled with the endless, steady stream of

Thomas Sutpen

Thomas Sutpen

Thomas Sutpen

Had Quentin lived, the school most likely would have been more harsh in its dismissal.  But, Shreve, instead, was responsible for not only packing up his own belongings for good, but those of Quentin as well.

He was supposed to return to Alberta, but, instead, had grander plans of finding her.

Looking at the young man, close by, he called out.