Dying to Live
-
The JZA
- Posts: 9408
- Joined: 07 Dec 2018, 13:10
-
Soapy
- Posts: 16487
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 18:42
Dying to Live
NEW OPP PACK IN THE AIR THIS GAS OR WHAT!
-
Caesar
Topic author - Chise GOAT
- Posts: 16777
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47
Dying to Live
Broken
The hallways of LSU’s University Laboratory School, commonly known to Baton Rouge’s locals as U-High, buzzed with the familiar energy of students returning from winter break. The walls echoed with laughter and chatter as friends reunited, exchanging stories of their holiday adventures. Some boasted about trips to tropical beaches, while others shared tales of quiet nights spent with family, wrapped in the warmth of home.
Lockers slammed shut as students hustled to make it to their first class on time, the cold January air still clinging to their coats.
Groups of friends congregated in clusters, discussing everything from the latest episodes of their favorite shows to New Year’s resolutions they swore to keep this time. The start of a new semester brought with it the hope of fresh beginnings, a chance to reset after the slog of the semester and year gone.
In one classroom, a teacher stood at the front, flipping through a clipboard as she prepared to take roll. The students gradually settled into their seats, their voices dropping to murmurs as they caught up on any last bits of gossip before the bell range.
“Alright, let’s get started. I’m Mrs. Picou,” the teacher said, glancing up from her clipboard with a smile. “Hope everyone had a great break and is ready to tackle the new semester. Let’s see who’s here today.”
She began calling out names, each one answered by a casual “here” or a wave from across the room. The student’s buzz of excitement from seeing their friends for the first time in a month beginning to wear off as they got their first day back truly under way.
As Mrs. Picou reached the middle of the list, the classroom door creaked open, drawing everyone’s attention. The room fell silent as Royce hobbled inside, leaning heavily on a pair of crutches. His left arm, wrapped in a cast, was secured in a sling, his face a mask of quiet determination as he moved with careful and slow precision as if thinking about each movement before he made it.
The teacher’s smile faltered slight as she took in his appearance. Royce awkwardly shifted his weight to his left side to reach into his pocket and hand her a slip of paper without a word, his gaze fixed straight ahead, avoiding the curious stares of his classmates.
The slip was a simple note from the office, explaining his late arrival, but the oddity of his presence in the room, at a school not known for accepting too many students in the middle of the year, said far more than any words on the paper could.
“Thank you, Royce,” the teacher said softly, her voice laced with concern. “You can take a seat.”
Royce nodded once, a barely perceptible movement, before he made his way to an empty desk near the back of the room. The journey seemed to take forward, almost every eye in the room following him as he passed by the other students.
The crutches clattered slightly as he all but fell down into the seat, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent classroom. His face twisted in pain as he laid the crutches down on the floor and swung his legs to the front.
The other students exchanged glances, some curious, others uneasy, but no one said a word. The atmosphere from moments before had been replaced by a heavy tension, what had happened to have the new kid in the state he was in hanging in the air like an unspoken question.
Mrs. Picou cleared her throat, trying to regain the room’s focus. “Alright, let’s continue,” she said, her voice gentle but firm as she resumed calling roll.
Royce stared down at his desk, his left arm pressed firmly against his chest as he picked at his fingernails, the world around him fading into background noise as the teacher’s voice droned on. The spurts of pain that occasionally shot through his body were a constant reminder of that night.
As the teacher finished roll and moved on to her expectations for the semester, Royce’s eyes shut screwed tightly, and he let out a ragged breath as he felt the shock of pain in his side from moving just ever so slightly the wrong way. He let out a slow breath as the pain subsided, bracing himself for a long day ahead.
~~~~~~~~~~
Roni chattered away in the backseat, her voice animated as she recounted her first day back at school. Rana kept her eyes on the road, but her smile was soft, listening intently to her little sister.
“And then Mrs. Cazayoux said we’re gonna have a whole unit on space! Like, real space stuff, not just the planets we learned last year. I’m talking about black holes, comets and everything! Isn’t that cool?” Roni said, her voice filled with enthusiasm.
“That sounds awesome,” Rana said, glancing at her through the rearview mirror. “You’ll have to teach me everything you learn.”
“I will!” Roni said, leaning forward between the seats. “Maybe I can even do a project on it. Like build a model or something.”
“Maybe so,” Rana said, her smile widening. “We can go to Michael’s or something this weekend and see what they got.”
Roni beamed, content with the idea, and settled back in her seat. The car fell into a comfortable silence, save for the low hum of the engine and the occasional thump as they drove over a pothole.
Royce sat in the passenger seat, his forehead pressed against the window. The conversation between his sisters felt distant, like background noise, as he wrestled with the pain that seemed to define every moment of his day.
Rana pulled into the driveway and parked, turning off the engine. Roni was the first to hop out, her school bag slung over her shoulder as she bounded toward the front door, eager to continue their conversation inside.
Rana turned to Royce, her expression softening with concern as she watched him struggle to maneuver out of the car. He gripped the doorframe with his good hand, trying to steady himself as he attempted to stand on his own.
“Royce, let me help you,” she offered, reaching out instinctively as she saw him wobble.
A hiss escaped through Royce’s gritted teeth as he recoiled from her, brushing off her hand. He pulled himself up with a sharp intake of breath, his body protesting every moment. For a moment, it looked like he might collapse, his good knee buckling slightly under the strain as he overcompensated.
But he steadied himself, leaning heavily on the crutches, and shot a look at Rana that silenced any further offers of assistance.
She watched him, the heartache she was feeling written on her face.
Roni had already disappeared had already disappeared inside, oblivious to the tension between her older siblings. Rana lingered for a moment, her gaze following Royce as he hobbled toward the house.
As he reached the front door, Rana spoke again, her voice gentle. “Are you hungry, Ro? You need anything?”
He didn’t bother to acknowledge her question. He pushed the door open and stepped inside, making his way down the hallway with slow, deliberate steps.
Rana sighed, closing the car door and following him inside, but she didn’t press the issue.
Royce made it to what was now his room – a small, sparsely furnished space that had once been the guest room. He shut the door behind him with a swing of a crutch, dropping his backpack off his shoulder unceremoniously.
He leaned against the wall, catching his breath, before attempting to take his shirt off. His fingers fumbled with the fabric, each movement sending sharp stabs of pain through his side and left arm. His muscles protested, and his arm ached as he tried to maneuver the sling over his head.
Frustration bubbled up, mixing with the physical pain until it was almost unbearable. His vision blurred, and before he knew it, tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. He cursed under his breath, hating the helplessness that he couldn’t shake.
After what felt like an eternity, he gave up. He threw the crutches holding him up down in anger. His shirt clung to him, half-off, but the pain was too much. With a heavy sigh, Royce hobbled over and lowered himself onto the bed, still fully clothed. He lay back, staring up at the ceiling, willing himself not to cry.
The room was quiet, the only sound the steady ticking of a clock on the nightstand. Royce reached over for a bottle of painkillers he’d been prescribed and popped two of the pills before closing his eyes, his body aching.
Once the pills kicked in enough to dull the pain, sleep would take him.
The hallways of LSU’s University Laboratory School, commonly known to Baton Rouge’s locals as U-High, buzzed with the familiar energy of students returning from winter break. The walls echoed with laughter and chatter as friends reunited, exchanging stories of their holiday adventures. Some boasted about trips to tropical beaches, while others shared tales of quiet nights spent with family, wrapped in the warmth of home.
Lockers slammed shut as students hustled to make it to their first class on time, the cold January air still clinging to their coats.
Groups of friends congregated in clusters, discussing everything from the latest episodes of their favorite shows to New Year’s resolutions they swore to keep this time. The start of a new semester brought with it the hope of fresh beginnings, a chance to reset after the slog of the semester and year gone.
In one classroom, a teacher stood at the front, flipping through a clipboard as she prepared to take roll. The students gradually settled into their seats, their voices dropping to murmurs as they caught up on any last bits of gossip before the bell range.
“Alright, let’s get started. I’m Mrs. Picou,” the teacher said, glancing up from her clipboard with a smile. “Hope everyone had a great break and is ready to tackle the new semester. Let’s see who’s here today.”
She began calling out names, each one answered by a casual “here” or a wave from across the room. The student’s buzz of excitement from seeing their friends for the first time in a month beginning to wear off as they got their first day back truly under way.
As Mrs. Picou reached the middle of the list, the classroom door creaked open, drawing everyone’s attention. The room fell silent as Royce hobbled inside, leaning heavily on a pair of crutches. His left arm, wrapped in a cast, was secured in a sling, his face a mask of quiet determination as he moved with careful and slow precision as if thinking about each movement before he made it.
The teacher’s smile faltered slight as she took in his appearance. Royce awkwardly shifted his weight to his left side to reach into his pocket and hand her a slip of paper without a word, his gaze fixed straight ahead, avoiding the curious stares of his classmates.
The slip was a simple note from the office, explaining his late arrival, but the oddity of his presence in the room, at a school not known for accepting too many students in the middle of the year, said far more than any words on the paper could.
“Thank you, Royce,” the teacher said softly, her voice laced with concern. “You can take a seat.”
Royce nodded once, a barely perceptible movement, before he made his way to an empty desk near the back of the room. The journey seemed to take forward, almost every eye in the room following him as he passed by the other students.
The crutches clattered slightly as he all but fell down into the seat, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent classroom. His face twisted in pain as he laid the crutches down on the floor and swung his legs to the front.
The other students exchanged glances, some curious, others uneasy, but no one said a word. The atmosphere from moments before had been replaced by a heavy tension, what had happened to have the new kid in the state he was in hanging in the air like an unspoken question.
Mrs. Picou cleared her throat, trying to regain the room’s focus. “Alright, let’s continue,” she said, her voice gentle but firm as she resumed calling roll.
Royce stared down at his desk, his left arm pressed firmly against his chest as he picked at his fingernails, the world around him fading into background noise as the teacher’s voice droned on. The spurts of pain that occasionally shot through his body were a constant reminder of that night.
As the teacher finished roll and moved on to her expectations for the semester, Royce’s eyes shut screwed tightly, and he let out a ragged breath as he felt the shock of pain in his side from moving just ever so slightly the wrong way. He let out a slow breath as the pain subsided, bracing himself for a long day ahead.
~~~~~~~~~~
Roni chattered away in the backseat, her voice animated as she recounted her first day back at school. Rana kept her eyes on the road, but her smile was soft, listening intently to her little sister.
“And then Mrs. Cazayoux said we’re gonna have a whole unit on space! Like, real space stuff, not just the planets we learned last year. I’m talking about black holes, comets and everything! Isn’t that cool?” Roni said, her voice filled with enthusiasm.
“That sounds awesome,” Rana said, glancing at her through the rearview mirror. “You’ll have to teach me everything you learn.”
“I will!” Roni said, leaning forward between the seats. “Maybe I can even do a project on it. Like build a model or something.”
“Maybe so,” Rana said, her smile widening. “We can go to Michael’s or something this weekend and see what they got.”
Roni beamed, content with the idea, and settled back in her seat. The car fell into a comfortable silence, save for the low hum of the engine and the occasional thump as they drove over a pothole.
Royce sat in the passenger seat, his forehead pressed against the window. The conversation between his sisters felt distant, like background noise, as he wrestled with the pain that seemed to define every moment of his day.
Rana pulled into the driveway and parked, turning off the engine. Roni was the first to hop out, her school bag slung over her shoulder as she bounded toward the front door, eager to continue their conversation inside.
Rana turned to Royce, her expression softening with concern as she watched him struggle to maneuver out of the car. He gripped the doorframe with his good hand, trying to steady himself as he attempted to stand on his own.
“Royce, let me help you,” she offered, reaching out instinctively as she saw him wobble.
A hiss escaped through Royce’s gritted teeth as he recoiled from her, brushing off her hand. He pulled himself up with a sharp intake of breath, his body protesting every moment. For a moment, it looked like he might collapse, his good knee buckling slightly under the strain as he overcompensated.
But he steadied himself, leaning heavily on the crutches, and shot a look at Rana that silenced any further offers of assistance.
She watched him, the heartache she was feeling written on her face.
Roni had already disappeared had already disappeared inside, oblivious to the tension between her older siblings. Rana lingered for a moment, her gaze following Royce as he hobbled toward the house.
As he reached the front door, Rana spoke again, her voice gentle. “Are you hungry, Ro? You need anything?”
He didn’t bother to acknowledge her question. He pushed the door open and stepped inside, making his way down the hallway with slow, deliberate steps.
Rana sighed, closing the car door and following him inside, but she didn’t press the issue.
Royce made it to what was now his room – a small, sparsely furnished space that had once been the guest room. He shut the door behind him with a swing of a crutch, dropping his backpack off his shoulder unceremoniously.
He leaned against the wall, catching his breath, before attempting to take his shirt off. His fingers fumbled with the fabric, each movement sending sharp stabs of pain through his side and left arm. His muscles protested, and his arm ached as he tried to maneuver the sling over his head.
Frustration bubbled up, mixing with the physical pain until it was almost unbearable. His vision blurred, and before he knew it, tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. He cursed under his breath, hating the helplessness that he couldn’t shake.
After what felt like an eternity, he gave up. He threw the crutches holding him up down in anger. His shirt clung to him, half-off, but the pain was too much. With a heavy sigh, Royce hobbled over and lowered himself onto the bed, still fully clothed. He lay back, staring up at the ceiling, willing himself not to cry.
The room was quiet, the only sound the steady ticking of a clock on the nightstand. Royce reached over for a bottle of painkillers he’d been prescribed and popped two of the pills before closing his eyes, his body aching.
Once the pills kicked in enough to dull the pain, sleep would take him.
-
Captain Canada
- Posts: 7811
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
Dying to Live
Goddamn, that was tense, I wonder where you're going to take this
-
Soapy
- Posts: 16487
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 18:42
Dying to Live
HE'D STILL BE ALIVE RIGHT NOW IF YOU NIGGAS AIN'T GAS EM UP!Caesar wrote: ↑12 Aug 2024, 18:59
Royce stared down at his desk, his left arm pressed firmly against his chest as he picked at his fingernails, the world around him fading into background noise as the teacher’s voice droned on. The spurts of pain that occasionally shot through his body were a constant reminder of that night.
that Romeo pack too potent!
-
djp73
- Posts: 13172
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 13:42
Dying to Live
Willacoochee University looking pretty good right now.
-
The JZA
- Posts: 9408
- Joined: 07 Dec 2018, 13:10
Dying to Live
Royce gone be alright.. 
-
Caesar
Topic author - Chise GOAT
- Posts: 16777
- Joined: 27 Nov 2018, 10:47
Dying to Live
Alone
Royce jolted awake, gasping for breath as the remnants of the nightmare clung to him like a suffocating shroud. His heart pounded against his ribcage, his skin damp with cold sweat. The room was dark, the only light coming from the fait glow of the streetlamp outside the window, casting shadows across the walls that seemed to dance like ghostly figures.
He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to shake the images from his mind, but they persisted—the screech of tires, the flash of gunfire – Romeo. The fear, the helplessness, it all washed over him again, dragging him back to that night.
Breathing heavily, Royce forced himself to sit up, the movement sending pain through his side. He winced, clutching at where the pain resonated as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. His whole body ached, a constant reminder of everything, the darkness of the room pressing in on him from all sides.
He wiped the sweat from his brow, his fingers trembling slightly as he tried to steady his breath. But the cold dread remained. As it had for months.
He didn’t try to go back to sleep as he laid back down. Instead, he stared at the ceiling, willing the hours to pass until the dawn began to break, casting the room in a muted gray light.
…
The bell rang for lunch, shaking Royce from the fog that had taken over his brain as exhaustion weighed heavily on him. The cafeteria was a cacophony of noise, students laughing and chatting as they crowded around tables with their friends. The smell of the food filled the air, making his stomach churn.
He stood at the end of the lunch line, his tray balanced precariously in one hand, leaning on his crutches. The weight of the tray felt like too much, his fingers protesting in pain with each movement as it pressed down on the digits, but he forced himself to keep moving, ignoring the curious stares and whispered conversations around him.
Royce’s eyes scanned the crowded cafeteria, searching for an empty table. Most were full, packed with other students, oblivious to the struggle playing out just a few feet away. He grimaced, realizing that if he found a table, he’d have to navigate through everyone, each step a battle against the pain that radiated throughout his body.
Finally, he spotted an empty table near the back of the room, tucked away in a corner. He hobbled toward it, his movements slow and labored. Each step was a challenge, the weight of the tray making it difficult to keep his balance.
He could feel eyes on him. He knew people were watching him struggle, some with pity, others with discomfort. Halfway to the table, his grip on the tray faltered. He reached up with his bandaged hand to steady it, eyes shutting in pain from the jolting movement.
Once he steadied himself, he resumed the slow march, reaching the table after what felt like an eternity. He dropped the tray onto the table, the plastic clattering and some of the juice from the green beans splashing onto the table. He lowered himself into the chair, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he tried to steady his nerves.
He stared at the food on the tray for a moment before pushing the tray away, his hand trembling slightly as he leaned back into the chair. The exhaustion weighed on him like a heavy blanket, the pain gnawing at his nerves.
He closed his eyes, lost in his thoughts, before he heard the sound of chairs scraping against the floor nearby. Looking up, he saw three students standing on the opposite side of the table from him, their expressions a mix of curiosity and hesitance.
Eventually, they sat down, chatting with each other as if Royce wasn’t there.
“Man, I can’t stand that shit Ms. Williams tries to pull all the time. She’s been doing that shit for years, too. No one’s trying to worry about a fucking pop quiz two weeks into the semester,” one of the students, a tall, lanky boy with shaggy hair, said.
“She didn’t do it last semester when I had her class. Must be something y’all did to piss her off. She was pretty chill,” a pretty brunette with freckles dusting her nose said.
The third, a muscular Black guy with a letterman’s jacket, shook his head. “Nah, Jonah’s right. She’s always on some other shit. You probably just didn’t notice because that shit always comes easy to you. Some of us gotta actually try to pass these classes.”
“Be so for real, Malik. You don’t have to do anything but show up. They have you on the fast track to end up next door,” the girl said, rolling her eyes.
“I still gotta do shit! Y’all always want to act like your boy dumb or some shit.”
“You are kinda slow. I’m just being honest with you as your friend.”
“Jay, help me out, man.”
Jonah laughed, throwing his hands up before going back to poking at the green beans with a plastic fork. “I tried to help you out when we were freshmen, and I told you that Alix was too crazy to date. You didn’t listen then, so you just made her worse.”
“I’m sitting right here,” Alix said, shaking her head.
“The crazy shit is she broke up with me,” Malik said, pointing at Alix.
“Because you kept talking to Kristie on the side.”
“That’s your friend!”
“That doesn’t make it better.”
Royce, still silent, tried to drown out the conversation, ignoring the three of them as long as they ignored him.
But then, almost as if they suddenly remembered he was there, Jonah turned to him. “Hey, man. You’re new here, huh?”
Royce looked up and nodded once. Getting a good look at their faces, he recognized all three of them from some of his classes.
“Where’d you go before?” Alix asked, leaning forward on the table.
Not in the questioning or speaking mood. Royce didn’t say anything and just stared at her.
“You’re in my pre-trig class,” she said. “I’ve never heard you talk. I guess you’re just one of those silent types. That’s cool. Between these two,” she said, gesturing to Jonah and Malik. “We have enough people around here who don’t know when to shut the fuck up.”
Royce shifted uncomfortably in his chair, wanting to get up and walk away with the attention on him, but knowing that the speed of his exit would be slow and pathetic.
“Bro, just don’t know your ass. That’s why he don’t wanna talk to you,” Malik said. He eyed Royce for a moment. “You play ball? I mean, when you ain’t… you know.” He gestured to Royce’s arm and then the crutches.
Alix smacked Malik on the shoulder. “You’re one rude motherfucker.”
“I’m sure he know he banged up,” Malik said, shrugging.
“This is why I broke up with your dumbass. You’re so inconsiderate.”
Royce took a deep breath as the conversation shifted away from him back to more mundane things among the friends. He reached over and dragged the tray closer to him, trying to plan his escape once they’d really gotten into their conversation.
Determined to keep his distance from everyone.
Royce jolted awake, gasping for breath as the remnants of the nightmare clung to him like a suffocating shroud. His heart pounded against his ribcage, his skin damp with cold sweat. The room was dark, the only light coming from the fait glow of the streetlamp outside the window, casting shadows across the walls that seemed to dance like ghostly figures.
He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to shake the images from his mind, but they persisted—the screech of tires, the flash of gunfire – Romeo. The fear, the helplessness, it all washed over him again, dragging him back to that night.
Breathing heavily, Royce forced himself to sit up, the movement sending pain through his side. He winced, clutching at where the pain resonated as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. His whole body ached, a constant reminder of everything, the darkness of the room pressing in on him from all sides.
He wiped the sweat from his brow, his fingers trembling slightly as he tried to steady his breath. But the cold dread remained. As it had for months.
He didn’t try to go back to sleep as he laid back down. Instead, he stared at the ceiling, willing the hours to pass until the dawn began to break, casting the room in a muted gray light.
…
The bell rang for lunch, shaking Royce from the fog that had taken over his brain as exhaustion weighed heavily on him. The cafeteria was a cacophony of noise, students laughing and chatting as they crowded around tables with their friends. The smell of the food filled the air, making his stomach churn.
He stood at the end of the lunch line, his tray balanced precariously in one hand, leaning on his crutches. The weight of the tray felt like too much, his fingers protesting in pain with each movement as it pressed down on the digits, but he forced himself to keep moving, ignoring the curious stares and whispered conversations around him.
Royce’s eyes scanned the crowded cafeteria, searching for an empty table. Most were full, packed with other students, oblivious to the struggle playing out just a few feet away. He grimaced, realizing that if he found a table, he’d have to navigate through everyone, each step a battle against the pain that radiated throughout his body.
Finally, he spotted an empty table near the back of the room, tucked away in a corner. He hobbled toward it, his movements slow and labored. Each step was a challenge, the weight of the tray making it difficult to keep his balance.
He could feel eyes on him. He knew people were watching him struggle, some with pity, others with discomfort. Halfway to the table, his grip on the tray faltered. He reached up with his bandaged hand to steady it, eyes shutting in pain from the jolting movement.
Once he steadied himself, he resumed the slow march, reaching the table after what felt like an eternity. He dropped the tray onto the table, the plastic clattering and some of the juice from the green beans splashing onto the table. He lowered himself into the chair, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he tried to steady his nerves.
He stared at the food on the tray for a moment before pushing the tray away, his hand trembling slightly as he leaned back into the chair. The exhaustion weighed on him like a heavy blanket, the pain gnawing at his nerves.
He closed his eyes, lost in his thoughts, before he heard the sound of chairs scraping against the floor nearby. Looking up, he saw three students standing on the opposite side of the table from him, their expressions a mix of curiosity and hesitance.
Eventually, they sat down, chatting with each other as if Royce wasn’t there.
“Man, I can’t stand that shit Ms. Williams tries to pull all the time. She’s been doing that shit for years, too. No one’s trying to worry about a fucking pop quiz two weeks into the semester,” one of the students, a tall, lanky boy with shaggy hair, said.
“She didn’t do it last semester when I had her class. Must be something y’all did to piss her off. She was pretty chill,” a pretty brunette with freckles dusting her nose said.
The third, a muscular Black guy with a letterman’s jacket, shook his head. “Nah, Jonah’s right. She’s always on some other shit. You probably just didn’t notice because that shit always comes easy to you. Some of us gotta actually try to pass these classes.”
“Be so for real, Malik. You don’t have to do anything but show up. They have you on the fast track to end up next door,” the girl said, rolling her eyes.
“I still gotta do shit! Y’all always want to act like your boy dumb or some shit.”
“You are kinda slow. I’m just being honest with you as your friend.”
“Jay, help me out, man.”
Jonah laughed, throwing his hands up before going back to poking at the green beans with a plastic fork. “I tried to help you out when we were freshmen, and I told you that Alix was too crazy to date. You didn’t listen then, so you just made her worse.”
“I’m sitting right here,” Alix said, shaking her head.
“The crazy shit is she broke up with me,” Malik said, pointing at Alix.
“Because you kept talking to Kristie on the side.”
“That’s your friend!”
“That doesn’t make it better.”
Royce, still silent, tried to drown out the conversation, ignoring the three of them as long as they ignored him.
But then, almost as if they suddenly remembered he was there, Jonah turned to him. “Hey, man. You’re new here, huh?”
Royce looked up and nodded once. Getting a good look at their faces, he recognized all three of them from some of his classes.
“Where’d you go before?” Alix asked, leaning forward on the table.
Not in the questioning or speaking mood. Royce didn’t say anything and just stared at her.
“You’re in my pre-trig class,” she said. “I’ve never heard you talk. I guess you’re just one of those silent types. That’s cool. Between these two,” she said, gesturing to Jonah and Malik. “We have enough people around here who don’t know when to shut the fuck up.”
Royce shifted uncomfortably in his chair, wanting to get up and walk away with the attention on him, but knowing that the speed of his exit would be slow and pathetic.
“Bro, just don’t know your ass. That’s why he don’t wanna talk to you,” Malik said. He eyed Royce for a moment. “You play ball? I mean, when you ain’t… you know.” He gestured to Royce’s arm and then the crutches.
Alix smacked Malik on the shoulder. “You’re one rude motherfucker.”
“I’m sure he know he banged up,” Malik said, shrugging.
“This is why I broke up with your dumbass. You’re so inconsiderate.”
Royce took a deep breath as the conversation shifted away from him back to more mundane things among the friends. He reached over and dragged the tray closer to him, trying to plan his escape once they’d really gotten into their conversation.
Determined to keep his distance from everyone.
-
The JZA
- Posts: 9408
- Joined: 07 Dec 2018, 13:10
-
Captain Canada
- Posts: 7811
- Joined: 01 Dec 2018, 00:15
Dying to Live
This man is in the abyss