8/32/64

[Tysyacha]

Day One: What a MESH!

 

People often told Atrast Valla, age 17, that their high-school years were the best ones of their lives. A paradise of partying, socializing, and "living it up"...

 

Unless, of course, you actually were Miss Atrast Valla, considered the absolute biggest perda at Unity High School, or Uni-Hi. You were never invited to parties, ridiculed as much for your plumpness as for your cerebral palsy, and had an incurable and slowly-lethal dose of pyriasis to boot...

 

Witness this scene. Two bullies, nicknamed Sketch and Grode, roam the hallways and spot her, holding cans of juice in their meaty fists:

 

Sketch: "Scope out the stack on her! See the way she bounces?"

 

Grode: "See the way she walks? Waddles, more likely. Look at her. Seriously. If she weren't such a tard, Atrast would be a total lupta."

 

Sketch (Calls after Atrast.) "Lupta!"

 

Grode (Does the same.) "Tard!"

 

Together: "Luptard!" (They guffaw, pleased at their wittiness.)

 

Atrast hears this, and she holds back tears. She's always been prone to "OE'ing", or "overemoting", especially in situations like this. It's something that the guidance counselors at Uni-Hi have always warned her about. "Do you think you're going to get a job if you can't take criticism?" they tell her. They don't understand. There is a difference--a definite one--between criticism and bullying. This is definitely the latter. Do the counselors care?

 

No. Atrast knows this as well. They say they do, but the blank void in their eyes betrays the lie of their perpetually-smiling faces. This is why she takes nightly refuge in the only friends she's ever had--eight pawns, two knights, two rooks, two bishops, a King and a Queen. She envisions herself as the King. Not so powerful on the board, no, but of infinite value. If he is lost...

 

She smiles, most likely for the first time that day. Chess makes her do that.

 

However, as she hastily takes her seat in ENG, or English class, little does she suspect that her smile will vanish for quite a while. She has not finished her MESHes--her Mandatory Educational Service Hours. Not by a long shot. If she doesn't complete them soon, she won't graduate, and then she'll be conscripted into the military despite her disability (and femaleness). The draft "left no one behind" these days. These days, Uncle Sam needed everyone, able-bodied and fit or not.

 

The intercom system crackled to life. Even in 2064, schools were ill-furbished:

 

"Good morning, everyone. Uni-Hi welcomes you." (Atrast thought, "Right.") "Before classes begin, would Atrast Valla, Dream Castier, Jeff--uh, Cochran?, Akira Kuran, Arvel--what is his last name, Turing?, Dee Donovan, Han-Jihye Park, and Michael--OMG, *giggles*! Caboose report to the PO-PO immediately?" The class stifled their collective laughter. The teacher glared.

 

Atrast shivered. The PO-PO was the principal's office. She was seriously borked--unless, hoping against hope, he'd give her an ENG award...

[Ping]

Arvel sat in class, bored to death. Taking CHEM, or chemistry, did have its perks - setting things on fire, for example - but many of the technical equations and laws were just too flat. Arvel was more of a loner. He almost never worked with anyone, and chose not to talk much. Nobody knew why. Arvel had been bullied before, and to an unhealthy extent, too, but that wasn't the only factor. He had begun to read - secretly, of course - and found out tons of things about history. He found out how humans were pretty much war-like - at least in his opinion - at heart. After reading about many philosophies, he decided he was probably and existentialist - meaning, he believed life was meaningless, but humans needed to define how they lived, too. Due to his research and the bullying, he absolutely loathed people and life. He then thought about his MESHes that he hadn't taken, and how he seemed to be one of the few non-infected people. He then heard his name called on the PA system.

 

"Before classes begin, would Atrast Valla, Dream Castier, Jeff--uh, Cochran?, Akira Kuran, Arvel--what is his last name, Turing?, Dee Donovan, Han-Jihye Park, and Michael--OMG, *giggles*! Caboose report to the PO-PO immediately?"

 

"Fork," Arvel murmered to himself, anxious about what would happen. He decided it was better to go up to the office rather then incur the wrath of the Principal - assuming, of course, that the principal wasn't already enraged.

[Tysyacha]

As Atrast got up to leave the stuffy ENG classroom, she heard her teacher grumble, "Honestly. That should be the last time that Assistant Principal Thurmond lets Ashlee do announcements over the intercom." That made the class snicker even harder! Everyone knew about Ashlee. "Ca$hlee", as she was more commonly known, was trying to make a name for herself as a pop singer before she even graduated high school. Of course, she didn't have a snowball's chance in H-E-2-flipped-7's! For one thing, she needed an "auto-tune" machine to make her voice sound on key in her demo MP9's, and for another thing, she was from this two-bit backwater burb--Prestile Stream, Maine. Small town, small mind, small "stack". If anything good could be said about "Ca$hlee", it was that she was pretty and platinum-blonde...

 

Atrast sighed. Her body temperature was rising again. Even her prescription-strength deodorant--Bionic Bond Ultra--was starting to falter. This time, it wasn't only the fault of her pyriasis. Going to the "PO-PO" would make anyone's armpits sweat. Even the good kids (known as OY's, or "outstanding youth" in teacher parlance) were afraid of Assistant Principal Thurmond and his immediate superior, Principal Carolyn Patton. Both were known as "undertakers" who would "bork" anybody's chances at going to college given the chance. One mistake on your part, and your head would roll. That was what had Atrast worried. Even "F's" on exams were suspect...

[Cyborg Ninja]

Michael Caboose was sitting in CHEM, hoping not to mess anything up today. So far he's caused 4 fires, 6 spills, 2 explosions, and 1 missing lab mouse which he still claims isn't his fault. He was also hoping there wasn't going to be a quiz today as he would fail. Caboose wasn't exactly the brightest of the bunch and in no way would he ever be OY but that didn't mean he wasn't going to college. No what he didn't have in brains he made up for in sheer power. Caboose was the best LB or Line Backer Uni-Hi ever had. Caboose was about to speak when the announcements came on.

 

"Before classes begin, would Atrast Valla, Dream Castier, Jeff--uh, Cochran?, Akira Kuran, Arvel--what is his last name, Turing?, Dee Donovan, Han-Jihye Park, and Michael--OMG, *giggles*! Caboose report to the PO-PO immediately?"

 

Caboose blushed as Ashlee aka "Ca$hlee" giggled at his name. He had no idea if she was making fun of him or not, he still took it as a compliment.

 

"Oh boy," Caboose said to himself.

 

He looked over at his classmate Arvel before standing up and heading to the door.

 

At least I can't start any fires in there...I hope

[Tysyacha]

***********************

 

"Caboose?" "Ca$hlee" Tyndale howled. "That's, like, your butt! WAY too funny!"

 

Assistant Principal John Thurmond sighed and shook his head. He definitely regretted hiring the girl as his office assistant during first period, which was supposed to be her study hall. However, the AP had long suspected that the only things Miss Tyndale ever studied were boys and their--"cabooses". Plus her song lyrics (inappropriate) and dance moves (even more so).

 

He supposed he shouldn't be surprised. After all, "Ca$hlee" was almost the prototype of all female students here at Uni-Hi. The vast majority were tall, thin, beautiful either through natural causes or plastic surgery in childhood, and uniformly bubble-headed. They cared about their friends and "social networks", as they called them, as well as the latest trends in fashion and music. School was an inconvenience and a chore for them--if any of their parents made them do chores, that is. Spoiled, inconsiderate lot, Assistant Principal Thurmond thought to himself. All they care about is themselves. Lord help us all if these kinds of young ladies become QG's--'Quarter Girls'--and drop out of school in order to become new mothers. At least here, they have a chance to learn about something more than the latest products they could buy. The thought of Ashlee dropping out due to an "unforeseen" pregnancy sent chills down his aging spine. She was harebrained, yes, but she made other girls seem like Albert Einstein (about whom he still knew). Maybe via this job--

 

A bone-jarring ringing sound suddenly startled him out of his reverie.

 

"Uh, Mr. Thurmond?" Ashlee looked scared. "Is the phone borked?"

 

He smiled with fatherly (or perhaps grandfatherly) tenderness. "Nonsense, my girl. Too many people are simply calling at once. Here. I'll help you answer."

 

As Ashlee obeyed his instructions, his smile deepened. Maybe she has a chance after all. Then again, not if my supervisor has her way...

 

************************

 

Principal Carolyn Ayn Patton did not suffer fools. Especially not the students at Uni-Hi. All fools, the lot of them, she thought, except for perhaps the eight whom I'll see in a matter of minutes. Everyone here is either stupid or disobedient, and the worst students here are the ones who are both at the same time. She smiled smugly to herself. No matter. The students who count--the intelligent ones--are already out of school or graduating, and the ones who don't will be ushered right into their places in the working world or the Army soon enough. Waitresses, janitors, cooks, nannies and babysitters, car mechanics, soldiers. We need plenty of those. And teachers, but... She felt a small pang of sadness. All the good teachers who are truly worth their tenure aren't here. They're in the wealthy districts and suburban schools. Not Prestile Stream, Maine. A pity.

 

Shaking her head disgustedly at herself, Principal Patton's spine stiffened.

 

No more of that! I have students to deal with--using strict discipline...

[Shana]

Dream Castier or DC as she was more commonly known had her feet up on the desk but her legs crossed so as to not give the peepers a picture to treasure. No matter how many times her teacher asked her to sit up straight she just blew her off. That's when she heard the intercomm.

 

"Good morning, everyone. Uni-Hi welcomes you. Before classes begin, would Atrast Valla, Dream Castier, Jeff--uh, Cochran?, Akira Kuran, Arvel--what is his last name, Turing?, Dee Donovan, Han-Jihye Park, and Michael--OMG, *giggles*! Caboose report to the PO-PO immediately?"

 

"Bork... here we go", Dream said as she sprang up to her feet and walked over to the door. The teacher simply shaking her head in disapproval. Dream was considered a full hotie in the school but she had rejected the top most popular guys in school for not being kewel enough for her. She didn't just want a random idiot.

 

As she walked up to the door one of the guys tried to spank her and she stopped his hand mid way and kicked him right on the back.

 

"Hands of lard, I'll fork up your face next time", Dream said and walked away. Most of the girls in the class simply muttered "gwad".

 

"Anus", she said as she left the class, closed the door and leaned on the wall of resting her head on it and sighing. She then went over to the PO-PO and saw a bunch of guys standing in the door way.

 

"Yaulp!", She said and they turned to face her, their expresion suddenly went to serious. "Keelyou", she finnally said, they scoffed and went away.

 

God I hate txt, but seems to be the only way to communicate with these idiots. I hate myself for using it but no one gets big words anymore, she said to herself and just opened the door and sat down on a chair.

 

"Dream Castier?", a woman behind a desk called.

 

"Yaulp!", Dream called out as she raised her hand a bit rolling her eyes.

 

"The Principal wants to see you so straighten up", the woman said.

 

Dream scoffed and just checked herself so she would be presentable, but she always was so there wasn't really a point, but she did always lift her feet when she sat down so she had to sit up straight this time and she simply crossed her arms. The "Undertakers" as everyone called the principal and his assistant, were pretty much feared by everyone in the school. But Dream couldn't care less, but she was to behave for her mother's sake.

[Alkonium]

Wow, it's like the administration is just as dumb as the students. Jeff Cochran, or Big Word Guy, as people called him, thought as he heard his name called over the PA system. It seemed as though he was being singled out yet again, but he took it with pride. Whenever he was picked on for his larger vocabulary, he could see in the other students' eyes and hear in the voices, they were afraid of him.

 

Rolling his eyes at the giggling, Jeff got out of his desk and made his way to the Principal's Office. This can't be good. He thought.

[Tysyacha]

"Well, it seems like half of you are finally here!" smiled Ca$hlee Tyndale in greeting, with her perfectly-white teeth (filed down to the roots and capped when she was only ten). "Let's see--Atrast Valla, Dream Castier, Arvel Turing, Jeff Cochran, and Mike"--she giggled again--"Caboose. Five out of eight. Is that half? Hmm..." She thought for a minute. "Never mind. The rest of you guys better get your 'cabooses' in gear, or Principal Patton's going to be majorly PO'ed." Part of her wanted to witness the explosion in the inner sanctum of the PO-PO when The Battleaxe herself got going, but another part of Ca$hlee--the part that was still Ashlee of Prestile Stream, Maine--felt sorry for them. This wasn't going to be a pretty sight. Maybe the rest of the people working in the principal's office would need earplugs. Then again...

 

The Battleaxe is at her worst when she's quiet, Ashlee thought.

 

In order to give them a word of warning, she waved at the empty plastic chairs in the outer office. "Pop a sit," she said. "PP could be a while yet." This nickname was even more pleasing to Ashlee (and the rest of the school) than The Battleaxe, because--well, her name was Principal Patton, and when did you ever get so marvelous a chance to nickname an authority figure--an Undertaker--after liquid body waste? Ashlee slapped her hands over her mouth, and she saw Atrast laugh, too. That was good. Humor was always good, especially if it involved making fun of Undertakers. They were fair game. Parents, teachers, principals, the REAL PO-PO--no one was safe.

 

Of course, if you made fun of an Undertaker, you weren't safe, either.

 

"Anyway," said Ashlee (rather humbly for her), "don't worry. It's only about your MESHes. Rumor has it that none of you are even close to completing them, and PP wants to send you all to the same place to do just that."

 

She leaned forward and started stage-whispering (very badly and loudly).

 

"The Ashwood LTC." She bit her lip. The Ashwood Long-Term Care Facility was what the residents themselves called a "nursing home" when no one else was listening or paying attention. The unpopular term had been jettisoned officially in 2025, to ward off the fears and negative predictions of the "baby boomers" who were going there at an unprecedented rate. Almost no one volunteered to do their MESHes there, and volunteers were badly needed. Who wanted to do such work as changing adult diapers and feeding elderly patrons lukewarm tapioca pudding? No one at Uni-Hi--that much was clear. Ashlee continued, "Seriously, guys. I'd beg for mercy if I were you."

 

Atrast considered it. Would she be able to do the physical labor? Nope...

[Master_Archon]

"Anyway," said Ashlee. "Don't worry. It's only about your MESHes. Rumor has it that none of you are even close to completing them, and PP wants to send you all to the same place to do just that."

 

"The Ashwood LTC."

 

A teacher entered the room, uttering in a low guttural, and annoyed tone, "Literally found'im in a tree in the back of campus." That was all, the man turning around, and another somewhat smaller, definitely thinner, and far more.....springy, younger man slid in around the teacher as he left, sighing and shaking his head.

 

"Seriously, guys. I'd beg for mercy if I were you," was what Jiyhe heard, his head snapping in her direction. He bolted over to Ashlee, grabbing her hand and shaking it vigorously, he said quite enthusiastically.

 

"Helllllooo oh GREAT spoiled one, how are you? Got any new designer neeshons lately!?" ((He really thinks neeshons means shoes....Cause seriously, even I think it means shoes!!?!))

 

And with that Jiyhe backed away, looking around quickly he noticed the other five sitting near, pointing to each one in turn, he said, "Hi to you you you you, aaand you!" He quickly looked around, as if he'd seen something and he was trying to find it, but quickly gathered himself, shaking his head, he calmed slightly.

 

"I'll go sit down," he remarked, sitting in a chair between Atrast and Dream, sitting still and calmly for maybe, ooh, 2 minutes before he started bouncing his leg up & down, and sniffing the air, scanning back and forth between the two he was sitting by, remarking quietly, but loud enough to be heard, "Nunu, someone smells zipped ((means nervous....Yeah YEAH! Can't make up text-talk worth beans. My vo-cab-bu-lar-ee is too decent for my own good!))."

 

"S'oh, which one is it?" He asked out loud, yet, he wasn't asking anyone near him, in fact, it was as if he were talking to someone who wasn't even there, rather than himself even!

 

((Bwahahaaa, the crazy-man cometh....Okay, he's not crazy. Just....different. ))

[Tysyacha]

Jihye suddenly felt the stinging impact of a designer purse from Prada--Ca$hlee's--beaning him right in the nose. The young girl's face was flushed.

 

"Designer what?!" she nearly shrieked. "I haven't even had implants done yet!" She straightened up and sniffed haughtily. "A gift for when I turn 18. My Undertaker parents said I couldn't get 'em until I graduate. Hmmmph!"

 

As the others stared slack-jawed at the incensed office assistant, Atrast leaned over and whispered a single "txt" word into Jiyhe's ear: "Pwned." Wink. Of course, "neeshons" were another word for "stack". Also, if you hadn't been paying any attention to the latest round of "txt", as Atrast suspected Jihye hadn't been, you wouldn't have known that at all...

 

She felt herself "one up" on the student that everybody else at school called "Raving Rabbit" or simply "Rabbit". They all thought that Han-Jiyhe Park was crazy, no matter if he'd been drinking "juice" or not. He was hyperactive, manic, "jumped", "volted"--whatever you wanted to call him. Atrast smiled. She hated it when anyone commented on her aromatic sweat, wishing that THEY would have to live with pyriasis for a day, or maybe a week. That would be better. However, another part of Atrast thought that Jiyhe was just as "hot" as she was any day of the week...She lowered her eyes.

 

"I won't have such inappropriate language in my office, Ashlee," said the AP.

 

"Sorry, Mr. Thurmond," replied Ca$hlee, "but he started it." She gestured toward Jiyhe. "He asked about my--my chest, if you get my drift."

 

A hard glare. "Consider yourself duly warned, Mr. Park," he intoned darkly.

 

Were some of the other people in the office snickering? Atrast couldn't tell.

 

(("Neeshons" is the phonetic pronunciation of "nichons", French for--uh--"chest"...))

[Cyborg Ninja]

Caboose looked around the room while Ashlee talked to the group. He saw a chair he liked and decided to sit in it. He watched as that crazy kid came into the room and made fun of Ashlee. Caboose just smiled as the kid continued talking, even though the kid was crazy he seemed like a nice person. Then again Caboose thought everybody was a nice person, even if they didn't show it. He looked around the room and realized he didn't know anyone else in here. He was always "hanging out" with the popular crowd and by that they would get Caboose to do stupid things and he would do them no questions asked. He was also the go to muscle for anyone who needed it. That's Caboose though, way too friendly.

 

"Um Hi everybody, my name is Michael Caboose but you can all call me Caboose," he said introducing himself even though his name was on the back of his shirt.

[Tysyacha]

Atrast turned her head and smiled at Michael. "Yeah, I've heard. Linebacker, right?" At Caboose's nod, she continued, "I'm not the kind of girl who's usually allowed to hang out with football players. Students like me are the ones who carry your books--if they can--or get sat on by some of your teammates. Not that I'm saying you're that kind of bully, of course, but--you know jocks."

 

She blushed. "Sorry. I'm always saying the wrong thing at the wrong time."

 

"You'd better not do that in front of Principal Patton," replied Ashlee wryly.

[Ping]

Arvel took a seat in the office, along with others, his classmate Caboose among them. He wondered what was wrong with Jiyhe, being extremely hyper-active. Maybe he's had too much juice, Arvel thought. Or maybe he's got a really bad infection. He then heard Caboose introduce himself to Atrast.

 

"Hello, Atrast, I am Arvel Turing. It's nice to meet you," he said, stretching out his hand for Atrast ot shake.

[Tysyacha]

((Kudos to Jeff Cochran--er, Alkonium--for making my new "av"!))

 

Atrast shook it. "Nice to meet you, Arvel," she said, almost biting her tongue as she tried not to call him Arv. She had a tendency to shorten people's names and turn them into nicknames, as she truncated her own to "At" or "Trast". That was the way of "txters", or most of her fellow students, after all. "Your last name is Turing, eh? That sounds familiar. Something to do with computers. Turing...Turing..." She shook her head. "It sounds like something Mr. Dartmouth said in SCI class. Anyway, I can't remember."

 

The ominous click-clack of stiletto heels sounded on the linoleum floor.

 

That meant only one thing: Uh-oh! The Battleaxe is on the warpath.

 

"Good morning, students," smiled Principal Carolyn Ayn Patton, with a middle-aged woman in floral-print hospital scrubs standing next to her. "It's not even 9:30 yet, and all eight of you are already in trouble. Something to do with the incomplete status of your MESHes, I understand?" Meekly, almost involuntarily, Atrast nodded. "Well, we'll soon fix that. Mrs. Kimball?"

 

The middle-aged woman smiled. "Hello. I'm Nurse Meredith Kimball, R.N. and the Coordinator of Volunteer Services at the Ashwood Long-Term Care Facility. I'm sure you've heard of it." Some nods from the eight students. "Good. We're in dire need of personnel--and, failing that due to this tight economy and higher standards on the part of the Health Monitoring Entity that funds Ashwood--we'll take all the help we can get. Meaning volunteers."

 

She folded her hands in front of her. "Let me get straight to the point so you can all go back to class, and I won't waste any more of your time. I need two volunteers for the dish room, two for bedpan detail, two for CA or 'catheterization assistance', and two for routine daily care tasks such as bathing and feeding our residents. All of them need you. Who'll step up first?"

 

Atrast practically jumped out of her chair and raised her hand. "I'll take dishes!", she cried, wobbling unsteadily. Sitting back down, she continued, "Sorry. In the--the games that I play in my free time--you have to be a little aggressive." She became aware that her deodorant was failing more quickly.

[Master_Archon]

Edit: Tysy posted before me, and before I saw her post, I'll edit accordingly, so don't take this post to heart until this edit phrase is slashed out.

 

(("Neeshons" is the phonetic pronunciation of "nichons", French for--uh--"chest"...))

 

((Ooooooohhhh, I thought it meant bras/underwear....Ah well, I guess both my character, and I were wrong! ))

 

Jiyhe suddenly felt something expensive smack his face, and although he could have reacted to it, he simply let it happen, as he felt he deserved it, even if he didn't know what it was for.

 

"Designer what?!" Ashlee shrilled. "I haven't even had implants done yet!" The girl quickly composed herself, but Jihye could still see the red in her face, which only made him smile, not that he understood what she was upset about anyway. "A gift for when I turn 18. My Undertaker parents said I couldn't get 'em until I graduate. Hmmmph!"

 

"Huh, I didn't know they made shoe implants?" He inquired, and although it may seem like he was prodding the issue, he was actually quite devoid of understanding on the matter at hand, not knowing what Ashlee was fully indicating.

 

One of the girls leaned over and whispered something to him with a wink, "Pwned."

 

He leaned over towards her and whispered back, "'You think so? Looked like prada to me.'" With that he sat back up and flashed the girl one of his 'suave' smiles, and returned his attention to the matter at hand...What attention he could give.

 

"I won't have such inappropriate language in my office, Ashlee," the AP said.

 

"Sorry, Mr. Thurmond," replied Ashlee. "But he started it. He asked about my--my chest, if you get my drift."

 

"Ooooohh, that's what you're talking about! I knew shoe implants sounded off, but you never know these days, what with all that subliminal stuff on TV these days," he commented, his manic behaviorism sliding slightly to reveal some of his schizotypal.

 

"Consider yourself duly warned, Mr. Park," the AP warned, Jiyhe saluted with a semi-serious face.

 

"Yes, Lord High Advocate, are we ready to see Satan yet!?" He said, but only just quiet enough so that the AP wouldn't understand what he'd said, although the others could hear.

 

He returned his attention to the recovered, but still flustered Ashlee, growing serious, or as serious as he could, he still looked/acted jumped, but it was the most clarity one would see him in at any one point when he was being a Rabbit.

 

"Sorry Great Spoiled One, I didn't mean it, I don't stay very synced with the world. I'll make it up to you, I'll...uh....Carry your stuff for a week, how's that sound? It'll make all the poppiez jealous!" He remarked, flashing his pearly whites, which, surprisingly, were natural.

 

His attention was torn away from Ashlee when he heard the others talking, looking around he saw they were introducing themselves; he, on the other hand, may be zoo bait, but he was very crowd divergent, his manic behavior was all that kept him intact around groups.

 

"I'm Raving Rabbit, although I'd prefer it if they insulted me completely and call me zoo bait like they should. But Han-Jiyhe Park is who I am, and who I am is who I'll be," he intoned, reverting to staring at his hands as he tried to make shapes with them.

 

Soon the principal arrived, a lady towing along, they said some things, and spoke some words, half of them gibberish to Jiyhe anyway.

 

"Let me get straight to the point so you can all go back to class, and I won't waste any more of your time. I need two volunteers for the dish room, two for bedpan detail, two for CA or 'catheterization assistance', and two for routine daily care tasks such as bathing and feeding our residents. All of them need you. Who'll step up first?" The other woman asked, the girl next to him shooting up like lightning, claiming dish duties.

 

"Ou, ou! Routine care, routine care! I like feeding old people!" He said, almost too excitedly, even for him, unnecessarily standing up and sitting down in one swift motion.

 

((I hope I'm using the "txt" words right.))

[Shana]

((I posted also before I saw Master_Archon's post XD))

 

"Huh, I didn't know they made shoe implants?"

 

Dream simply grinned at this, the guy clearly had no real grasp on txt but she was kinda relieved for the guy, the less he knew, the better off he was.

 

As she sat there and listened to everyone talk, the assigning of the tasks as she heard Atrast call fo dishes, she kne she had to jump in for them too.

 

"I'll take dishes too", Dream was disgusted at the other jobs and she wasn't about to die doing something like that. She looked around at the others quietly thinking to herself she had done it quickly enough, so everyone else was screwed. She looked over at the others and give them a sympathetic look.

 

"Sorry you lot", Dream said.

[Tysyacha]

Ca$hlee looked flustered. She was definitely NOT used to dealing with unruly students like Han-Jiyhe Park, or "zoo bait", as he'd mentioned earlier. Usually, the guidance counselors gave kids like him medication--a very hefty dose.

 

"C-c-can I go now?" she stuttered, her face turning white at the sound of it. Only when she was very, very nervous or "jumped" up on "juice" did her speech impediment dare to rear its ugly head. She glanced at Jiyhe and back to the Assistant Principal, who gave her a nod. He was "txting" rapidly on his WhiteBerry X34, the alabaster grandchild of its darker electronic predecessor.

 

Ashlee Tyndale practically fled the principal's office, but not before she shot back at Jiyhe, "You don't have t-to carry my stuff, Raving R-rabbit. You'd drop it anyway."

 

After hearing the door slam behind her, Nurse Kimball continued her speech.

 

"Wonderful! It's always nice to see such willing volunteers, especially for such a tiring job as the dish room. What are your names, young ladies?" Dream Castier and Atrast Valla told her theirs. "Well, Atrast and Dream, welcome to the team!" The nurse giggled warmly to herself. "Hey--that rhymed. I never knew I was a poet." A small smile.

 

Atrast wondered who'd take which jobs. She pitied the two students who hadn't even shown up yet to the PO-PO--Akira Kuran and Dee Donovan. What if they got "catheterization assistance?" She didn't know what that was, exactly, but it sounded horrible. What if it had to do with fixing the residents' hair after they'd--"kicked the bucket", as her grandfather said?

 

She gave Dream a high-five. "Girl power!" she laughed. Only the "crup" jobs were left...

 

"I like feeding old people!" Jiyhe interjected suddenly--or, at least, she thought he did.

 

"Really? I'm surprised," said Nurse Kimball. "But, I'll take you on anyway, young man."

 

((Master_Archon: u rk @ txt!))

[Alkonium]

"And that's why I don't even bother with that nonsense." Jeff commented after seeing Jiyhe's little debacle. Noticing the group looking at him, he added, "I guess I'll take bedpan detail. It beats catheterisation assistance at least. That sort of job must be nasty, especially since I know what a catheter is." Turning to the nurse, he said, "My name's Jeff Cochran by the way, since you probably need to know that."

[Tysyacha]

Nurse Kimball gave him a nod that was as crisp as a salute. "Welcome aboard, Mr. Cochran," she said, her gray eyes firm but kind. "Thank you so much for volunteering for a job that no one your age wants to do for their MESH hours."

 

Atrast raised her hand hesitantly. "Excuse me. Um, what's a catheter?" she asked.

 

The medic looked at Jeff. "Would you like to explain, or should I?"

 

Meanwhile, another of Assistant Principal Thurmond's thick teenage "office assistants" was trying to stifle a smirk. "Ha! Dude just volunteered to clean up other people's poop," he whispered to the secretary, who didn't look pleased.

[Cyborg Ninja]

Caboose just watched as everyone started picking positions. He frowned a bit when the pretty girl picked dishes with Atrast but he probably would have done something stupid in front of her anyway.

 

"Um Miss Kimbal, what's a good job for somebody who isn't exactly graceful? I'm not gonna say any names but this person may or may not be in this room," Caboose said trying to cover his clumsiness even though it was obvious he wasn't doing a good job.

[Tysyacha]

Nurse Kimball understood immediately, responding, "Routine care, perhaps. We wouldn't want your friend spilling the bedpans all over the floor or making a mistake inserting the catheters, now, would we? At least if you--er, he or she--feeds the residents in the dining hall, there's a lower probability of missing the target area of their waiting mouths." She gave Caboose a wink. "Besides, perhaps a bit of heavy lifting--helping people get in and out of bed, that is--might be right up his or her alley. Your friend's, I mean."

[Shana]

Dream returned Atrast's high-five and smile, she kinda laughed when she said girl power.

 

"I'm Dream by the way, but peeps just call me DC", Dream said to Atrast figuring that since they'd be in dish washing duty for some time together, she might as well have a friend and Atrast seemed normal enough by Dream's standards which were high enough as it was.

 

"Ha! Dude just volunteered to clean up other people's poop"

 

"Eww", Dream said looking in Jeff's way. "Are you sure you want to do something that gross? I mean yeah catheters are flat but bedpan detail is totally borked".

[Tysyacha]

Atrast was still confused. "I know what bedpans are, but what's a catheter?"

 

Seeing as how Jeff Cochran remained silent, Nurse Kimball cleared her throat and explained firmly: "When people get older--elderly, that is, not my age--sometimes they can't go to the bathroom by themselves. Sometimes they can't even feel it when they have to relieve themselves, or else they can't make it to the toilet in time. A catheter is a long rubber tube that we insert into a person's bladder so that the waste--the urine--goes through it and gets collected in a bedpan or a plastic bag. Both are promptly emptied out."

 

The young girl's face was as white as the walls of the PO-PO. "I...I see."

 

Nurse Kimball smiled. "Don't worry. Dish washers don't get anywhere near the catheters or the patients who need them." Atrast visibly relaxed, and the color returned to her cheeks. "Now...who hasn't volunteered for a position?"

 

"I know who hasn't," remarked Principal Patton gravely. "Akira Kuran and Dee Donovan haven't even reported to the office yet. It's as if they're walking backwards, or hiding in the restroom. At this point, I wouldn't blame them." Her smile was icy. "I'll have them put down for whatever slots aren't filled by the time the rest of you volunteer. Is that all right, Nurse Kimball?"

 

"I would prefer to give them a choice, but if they're no-shows..." A sigh.

 

"Very well. Continue." She surveyed the five in front of her. Gotcha!

[Writer]

But Dee was not there to hear the request over the PA system. Indeed, she was being practically dragged to school by her mother, who was in quite a state of rage, terror, and who knew what else?

 

"Skydiving, Dee?" she protested, exasperated. Dee just grinned. It was the fifth time her mother had asked that, as though she could think of nothing better to ask. Dee herself had a brilliant question her mother could have asked, but she didn't want to encourage cheating like that!

 

"So what, mom!" she said again.

 

"So how do they let a sixteen year old go skydiving?"

 

"Told 'em twenty-one," Dee shot back, grinning. "They didn't ask. No ID check." She shrugged. Then she let out a cry of protest as her mother shoved her roughly toward the school doors.

 

"I'm going to have a talk with them," she said sharply. "You stay in school."

 

She stormed off, but just as Dee took the door handle to open it, she heard her mother call, "Where is the place?"

 

Dee grinned. "Somewhere!" And with that, she darted into the school and into the crowds of children there. Almost immediately, people who knew her crowded around.

 

"Where you been, Dee?" one asked. "Borked!"

 

"Who, me?" Dee asked innocently.

 

"They called you," another said. "To the PO-PO! Where you been anyhow?"

 

With a mischievous grin, Dee answered, "Skydiving."

 

The small crowd murmured collectively, "Nine!" and Dee skipped away toward the office to see just how 'borked' she was. She danced into the office and sang out,

 

"You called for me, the lovely Dee.

Well here is me, but not for free!"

 

Giggling a bit, she then asked, "What's up?"

[Tysyacha]

((Writer: Dee's little "rime" is FTW, according to Atrast!))

 

The Battleaxe glowered at Dee. "Considering how late you are, Miss Donovan, and also considering how far behind you are on completing your MESHes, I would not be so jubilant." Turning to the other students, she said, "For those of you who find three-syllable words taxing, 'jubilant' means 'happy'."

 

To Dee she continued, "This is Nurse Kimball, from the Ashwood LTC. She has graciously agreed to take all eight of you on, even at this late point in the semester, in volunteer positions that suit the needs of the residents there."

 

"Right you are," replied the nurse, gesturing to an empty chair in which Dee could sit. "Atrast Valla and Dream Castier here have already volunteered to wash dishes in our resident dining hall. Jeff Cochran has bravely agreed to tackle bedpan detail. Han-Jiyhe Park and Michael--C. are on routine care: bathing and feeding our residents. That leaves one slot in bedpan detail, and two slots in catheterization assistance, for those who cannot make it to the toilet or can't feel it when they have to go." She smiled. "Care to pick one?"