@freakarus | continued from here
the week before summer is the worst. nobody's particularly bothered by the monotonous drawls of the teachers, classmates are rowdier, the rooms are stuffier, the days seem longer && eddie, he's surprised he even showed up today. students murmur to each other throughout the room, a unison of tapping feet from the desk in front of him && he can see he's not the only one doodling across the page. there's nobody to bother him anyways, with an empty seat next to him. usually reserved for jeff; whose absent, sick with a flu but eddie knows that's a load of shit. he watched his friend throw back at least four vodka shots the night before. sick, yeah right. vodka fever.
but the spot isn't reserved for silence for much longer, a shadow covers the page his attention is focused on && a voice speaks, requesting the spot. eddie assumes she's talking to someone else. nobody ever WANTS to sit next to him, lest it tatter their reputation or set them up for a weeks worth of jeering. that's always suited him just fine.
eyebrows lift in curiousity as he meets her gaze, standing before him with her books in hand awaiting an answer. others have already caught the sight, glancing at the two, back to their friends && whispering. as if there's nothing better to talk about. eddie glances around too, awaiting prying eyes of a group of girls giggling that it's all a set up. not that he really cares, but there's nothing of the sort. just dottie kline standing there alone, STILL WAITING on a response.
" uh, that depends. " a slight grin twitches across his lips, " if you value your sanity, i'd maybe choose the floor. " purposely annoying the teacher or beats tapped on the table can be irritating to sit next to, but he means the potential social fallout of such a decision. god forbid someone in class has to sit next to him!! one arm drapes across the back of his own seat, the other hand gestures toward the empty spot welcoming dottie to sit if she dares.
It's so close to the end of the school year that everyone can practically taste it, and summer tastes good. Freedom from boring classrooms, the inevitable end of year parties -- then the summer parties by the pool and lasting all night when there's no school to have to get to -- and the impending opening of the new mall. It's shaping up to be a great summer, once this last week of school finally ends. The last week always feels unnecessarily long. Maybe that's why Dottie had been busier chatting with her friends in the hall about summer plans than getting to class early enough to get a good seat.
By this point in the year, everyone practically has assigned seats, anyway: everyone has habitually gravitated to where they want to sit, and usually the sanctity of the unwritten seating chart is respected. Apparently not this week, though, and probably because with so little time left in the school year, no one cares about keeping order in the classrooms. That's the logic Dottie's going with when her usual spot is already taken, and the only available seat left is next to Eddie Munson. (Not counting the broken squeaky desk at the back of the room that no one likes, and not counting the desk right in front of the teacher's desk where you'll inevitably get called on all class. She's not sitting in those spots.) So asking Eddie if she can sit next to him is the only option.
It's not like she has anything against Eddie personally. He's weird, yeah, annoying, sure, and she's heard things -- who hasn't -- but nothing that's going to deter her from the only good seat left. She can hear at least one whisper a few desks away, but she ignores it, waiting for his answer. It sounds like a dare with the way he grins, draping his arm over the back of his chair. She's no chicken. And she's wearing a white skirt. "Sit on the floor in this? You really are crazy." She sits, putting her books down on the desk and flipping her ponytail over her shoulder. "Did you do the homework?" Challenge accepted, weirdo.
