( imagined you saw me ) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
imaginedyou) wrote2007-10-08 09:24 pm
imaginedyou) wrote2007-10-08 09:24 pm
Entry tags:
interlude; original (schoolgirls ii.)
Previous!
Just over 1000 words again this time.
---
ii. running out
With none of the time in the world at all you pause at the steps before walking into the building. Your hands are still linked, and you shrug them off without a thought, smoothing down your blazer, straightening the pleats of your skirt, kneeling down to tie your shoe (you would never have cycled without tying them first but this one seems to have come undone). You take a glance to the side; she seems unconcerned. In these brief moments of rearrangement and a loose attempt at semi-perfection she has spent the seconds daydreaming, obviously. Staring up at the doors, you wonder for a moment if they're locked, closed a minute or two before the bell just to punish those who dare enough to come so close to being late that they inevitably are.
Some people might call it a working of fate.
You take a breath, pick up your feet and make for the door; your fingers outstretching, splaying and moving in slow-motion to touch the handle, wondering if this is the end, the moment when nothing will happen, game over. The handle bows beneath your fingers and the door pushes open almost too fast - eagerly.
"Well," you say, looking back. She still hasn't moved from the bottom step upwards. Your voice is understandbly breathless, but your heartbeat has slowed to almost a normal rate so it doesn't exactly explain. "I'm going in, so I guess this is goodbye."
You don't really expect a thank you for the ride - not that you believe she is rude, just strange. Her hair is catching in the wind, long and wavy, rippling across her shoulder and whisking down her back, and her eyes aren't quite in focus on you at all. Perhaps her mind is elsewhere, perhaps she is scared. You, however, are so close to being late it is unsettling, and you just this once have decided where her mind, or anyone's mind for that matter, is isn't your problem.
You pick up your pace once inside, feet tapping quickly across the tiles of the floor, trying to shuffle quickly without being caught for running - the tiles are always so slippery anyway what with the insistence of the cleaners to wash down but not dry up, that it'd be dangerous to run even if it wasn't breaking the rules. Your mind quickly runs through everything you can remember placing into your bag the night before (you do come prepared, usually, the battery on the clock failing or the alarm switching itself off or whatever reason it has for not waking you this morning can be discovered later on so that the fluke may never be repeated). Books, pens, homework from over the school vacation. You have the same form teacher as previously according to the letter you received along with your timetable, so it is at least reassuring to be able to go straight to the classroom and slip in just in time for the bell to sound. You aren't even the last to enter, two students dart in behind you and slip past to claim the best seats they can before you think to move.
"Ah, Hoshiko-kun," the teacher says, smiling something a little like relief. You can understand - looking around you can see a few troublemakers have been separated out into varying classes and your teacher seems uneasy with the ones lumped into hers. At least you are someone she recognises and has faith in not to be a problem. So you aren't the smartest person in the class, but you try hard enough.
You nod, bow your head a little and smile in recognition, scan the room and see two empty seats left; at the front, of course (of course). You take a single step-
"Ah," your teacher begins, clearing her throat, "there are a few changes being made this year, you may already have noticed. I would like for you all to stand up from your seats. As I take attendance I will be seating you according to alphabetical order."
The chorus of moans settle into varying symphony. You stand, bag clutched between your fingers, not at all concerned. There is no-one in this class you consider a friend well enough to care about sitting next to, or not, as the case may be.
The role-call begins, as expected, at the A's. You realise after a moment of thought that you will be seated in one of the coveted seats, near the back. Takahashi. Your eyes follow without really seeing as names are called, voices reply, and your teacher taps a desk with her finger, a silent order. The protests are minimal but existent.
"Takahashi Hoshiko," she says, and looks your way. Her hand lays invitingly on your desk, second row from the back. Not bad at all, and not a spot you ever would have been able to claim for yourself had it worked out that way.
"Here," you reply, and make to move your feet in her direction. As the first step falls, you hear it echo for what seems like forever. It echoes again, but your feet aren't moving anymore.
"Ah!" A voice gasps from behind you, and you turn to a stream of hair flying overhead as the girl at your back ducks her head. You expect an apology to be forthcoming, but she just sucks in air, a deep breath once and once more.
"Yes?" Your teacher asks briskly. She looks more annoyed at being interrupted than anything. Perhaps she doesn't begin to comprehend that one of her students could be late. Perhaps she doesn't want to believe it.
"Sorry!" She says, finally, belatedly. She doesn't look as though she means a syllable of it. Your mouth twists as you realise-
"Tanaka, Tanaka Katsumi," she says over your head to the teacher.
"You're next," she says in reply, looking down at her list. "You are here, in front of Takahashi Hoshiko-kun."
She is pointing to the seat previously assigned to you, but you say nothing, keeping your mouth small and tight. Clearly she wishes to keep an eye on Tanaka, and if seating her one row further forward than planned is how she thinks she will do it, you will not argue.
"Well, here we are again," she says brightly after the teacher has turned her attention away from the both of you to the next student. Orders will be obeyed without supervision. "Seems it wasn't goodbye after all."
---
Just over 1000 words again this time.
---
ii. running out
With none of the time in the world at all you pause at the steps before walking into the building. Your hands are still linked, and you shrug them off without a thought, smoothing down your blazer, straightening the pleats of your skirt, kneeling down to tie your shoe (you would never have cycled without tying them first but this one seems to have come undone). You take a glance to the side; she seems unconcerned. In these brief moments of rearrangement and a loose attempt at semi-perfection she has spent the seconds daydreaming, obviously. Staring up at the doors, you wonder for a moment if they're locked, closed a minute or two before the bell just to punish those who dare enough to come so close to being late that they inevitably are.
Some people might call it a working of fate.
You take a breath, pick up your feet and make for the door; your fingers outstretching, splaying and moving in slow-motion to touch the handle, wondering if this is the end, the moment when nothing will happen, game over. The handle bows beneath your fingers and the door pushes open almost too fast - eagerly.
"Well," you say, looking back. She still hasn't moved from the bottom step upwards. Your voice is understandbly breathless, but your heartbeat has slowed to almost a normal rate so it doesn't exactly explain. "I'm going in, so I guess this is goodbye."
You don't really expect a thank you for the ride - not that you believe she is rude, just strange. Her hair is catching in the wind, long and wavy, rippling across her shoulder and whisking down her back, and her eyes aren't quite in focus on you at all. Perhaps her mind is elsewhere, perhaps she is scared. You, however, are so close to being late it is unsettling, and you just this once have decided where her mind, or anyone's mind for that matter, is isn't your problem.
You pick up your pace once inside, feet tapping quickly across the tiles of the floor, trying to shuffle quickly without being caught for running - the tiles are always so slippery anyway what with the insistence of the cleaners to wash down but not dry up, that it'd be dangerous to run even if it wasn't breaking the rules. Your mind quickly runs through everything you can remember placing into your bag the night before (you do come prepared, usually, the battery on the clock failing or the alarm switching itself off or whatever reason it has for not waking you this morning can be discovered later on so that the fluke may never be repeated). Books, pens, homework from over the school vacation. You have the same form teacher as previously according to the letter you received along with your timetable, so it is at least reassuring to be able to go straight to the classroom and slip in just in time for the bell to sound. You aren't even the last to enter, two students dart in behind you and slip past to claim the best seats they can before you think to move.
"Ah, Hoshiko-kun," the teacher says, smiling something a little like relief. You can understand - looking around you can see a few troublemakers have been separated out into varying classes and your teacher seems uneasy with the ones lumped into hers. At least you are someone she recognises and has faith in not to be a problem. So you aren't the smartest person in the class, but you try hard enough.
You nod, bow your head a little and smile in recognition, scan the room and see two empty seats left; at the front, of course (of course). You take a single step-
"Ah," your teacher begins, clearing her throat, "there are a few changes being made this year, you may already have noticed. I would like for you all to stand up from your seats. As I take attendance I will be seating you according to alphabetical order."
The chorus of moans settle into varying symphony. You stand, bag clutched between your fingers, not at all concerned. There is no-one in this class you consider a friend well enough to care about sitting next to, or not, as the case may be.
The role-call begins, as expected, at the A's. You realise after a moment of thought that you will be seated in one of the coveted seats, near the back. Takahashi. Your eyes follow without really seeing as names are called, voices reply, and your teacher taps a desk with her finger, a silent order. The protests are minimal but existent.
"Takahashi Hoshiko," she says, and looks your way. Her hand lays invitingly on your desk, second row from the back. Not bad at all, and not a spot you ever would have been able to claim for yourself had it worked out that way.
"Here," you reply, and make to move your feet in her direction. As the first step falls, you hear it echo for what seems like forever. It echoes again, but your feet aren't moving anymore.
"Ah!" A voice gasps from behind you, and you turn to a stream of hair flying overhead as the girl at your back ducks her head. You expect an apology to be forthcoming, but she just sucks in air, a deep breath once and once more.
"Yes?" Your teacher asks briskly. She looks more annoyed at being interrupted than anything. Perhaps she doesn't begin to comprehend that one of her students could be late. Perhaps she doesn't want to believe it.
"Sorry!" She says, finally, belatedly. She doesn't look as though she means a syllable of it. Your mouth twists as you realise-
"Tanaka, Tanaka Katsumi," she says over your head to the teacher.
"You're next," she says in reply, looking down at her list. "You are here, in front of Takahashi Hoshiko-kun."
She is pointing to the seat previously assigned to you, but you say nothing, keeping your mouth small and tight. Clearly she wishes to keep an eye on Tanaka, and if seating her one row further forward than planned is how she thinks she will do it, you will not argue.
"Well, here we are again," she says brightly after the teacher has turned her attention away from the both of you to the next student. Orders will be obeyed without supervision. "Seems it wasn't goodbye after all."
---
no subject
no subject
I'll admit I got a bit confused near the end, especially with the seating stuff, but rereading it helped. Your descriptions of seemingly random things - the echoes, the hair fluttering in the wind - are gorgeous and really seem to suit it very nicely.