passing notes -- open to biology students!

[Luke Peters]

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giselle montgomery renard !
//everyone in this room, they've got troubles too//
//secret stories and lies that we never knew//

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I don’t think that I’d ever been early to a class.
Never had I been late, but looking back, there didn’t seem to be a single instance in which I was one of the first five to arrive. I guess you could classify me as more of a “middle” person.
I suppose you’re looking for me to tell you that today was different, that today I was early, but unfortunately, I guess I’m going to disappoint you. Today, like most days, I arrived just before the warning bell rang. Maybe the reason I’m never early is because I take my time. I’ve seen freshman darting to their classes, book-bags thrown haphazardly over their shoulders as they race to be the first in line to learn. That’s just not me. I like to savor the walk, since I know it’s my little bit of freedom before class starts. The only periods I would ever rush to are ones involving my darling Romeo, but even then I’m never early. Ever heard of ‘the early bird catches the worm? Yeah, but I guess I’m just not one for worms.

It’s second period, and I’m less than enthused. I’m only a morning person when I want to be, which is usually on weekends. The other days, I feel woozy when I rise too early, and as I prepare to start the day, I crave nothing more than to be back in bed, warm and comfortable. I used to skip all the time in middle school, mostly because my dad really didn’t care less about what I was doing or where I was. Now though, I realize that I have no choice but to go to school. Hey, I’d rather wake up early and suffer a bit than fail again and have to repeat my sophomore year. I’m a little tired of having to explain why I’m seventeen and only in tenth grade, can you imagine having to clarify for people eighteen? No thanks.

As I walk from class to class, I watch people. I look at their clothes, mostly, what they’re wearing. It’s usually run of the mill stuff that I can’t stand, but occasionally I’ll run into someone with a real sense of fashion. Sometimes I’ll drop a compliment, but mostly I just observe. I try to pick out this same person for a few days in a row to see if they really have taste, or if they were just lucky to choose such an ensemble that particular day. It’s usually the latter.
But it’s not only clothes that I study; I’m also quite fond of the social relationships. Sometimes I’ll get a greeting from a friend, but really I’d rather listen to the conversations that take place.
“That party was awesome…”
“…parents don’t even care…”
“I’ll try and sneak into your dorm…”
And so forth. It’s quite interesting to get such insight into the lives of fellow students. Little do they know that their secrets are constantly drifting into random passer-by’s ears. This is exactly why I never share my confidential knowledge in the hallways – too much eavesdropping taking place.

The warning bell rings just as I waltz into Biology. I don’t really pay much attention to the others who are already there as I take my seat in the back of the room. I was lucky to snag one of the chairs in the back row, a known gold-mine for slackers and texters. I’m not really either, although I do get both distracted and bored easily. But for now, I try my best to pay attention, knowing full well that by the end of the period I’ll be glancing around frantically, looking for something to do. Might as well prepare my cure now.
Drawing from my bag a pen and a piece of lined paper, I quickly scribble: hey (: and fold it over. I’m a note-passer, let it be known! Hey, it’s always nice to make new friends, why not in class? Alright, so I should be concentrating on the lesson, but I can multi-task. For now, I keep the folded note on the edge of my desk, waiting until I find myself thoroughly eager for entertainment later on.
Ready, set, learn!

[Jacob C. Quinto]

Quin sighed. Late again.

Jacob Quinto had rarely ever been late for classes in his life, but for his first day in Firefly Fields, he had been late to nearly every lesson.

He had woken up half an hour late, and that didn't do him any good. Stumbling out of bed, he had groggily taken a shower that lasted way too long. And if that didn't make him late, he forgot what class was his first and traveled all the way to the other side of the building before he remembered he needed to do math.

And after math class came history. Fascinating. Civil war, conflict, betrayal. War. It was just a boring circulation. Quin, unsurprisingly, had falled asleep in this class and stayed fifteen minutes extra for a lecture. Like he didn't know already just what he was getting himself into. First impressions were never his thing.

English was fine, but he was late because of the lecture. Then came French. Verbs and grammar was another antidote for sleep. Yes, he had slept through that class too. And after French Quin had drawing. That was a change of climate, but he yet again had to stay back in class to finish off what he couldn't during th class.

Oh boy, first impressions were really not his thing.

"Biology." Quin sighed, running through the now-empty corridors. "Great."

He reached the biology classroom soon enough, panting. He grasped the doorknob and turned it, leaning his weight against it.

CRASH!

He had somehow fallen asleep while leaning on the doorknob, crashing into the classroom, the door banging the wall and his body stumbling around then knocking onto the teacher's desk.

Flailing around and forcing himself up, Quin smiled sheepishly at the teacher, who was by then glaring at him in shock and anger.

[Luke Peters]

It was kind of sad that only a few minutes had passed since class started, and I was already bored. My leg jiggled under my desk as it normally did when my entertainment level was low, and I found myself often sighing and looking around for something to do. The note lay un-passed on my desk, for I figured I might as well tough it out for a little while and actually pay attention.
But then I was reminded how unbelievably lackluster biology was, and I had to resist from groaning out loud. When would I ever need to know this stuff in the real world?! I think I could get a pretty good career without having to know where the ovaries are located on a sunflower, thanks very much.

I did have the image of a perfect student though, notebook out, pen poised above the paper, ready to jot down some notes. The teacher didn’t know, however, that the only thing I would be doing with my writing utensil was doodling. I wasn’t very good at drawing, so I mainly just sketched little designs on the margins of my page. It wasn’t very interesting, but at least it passed the time. That was the main thing, passing time, since nothing exciting ever happened in biology.
Well, except for today.

Illustrating a swirly pattern I’d mimicked off a poster hanging on the wall, I’d almost missed the whole ordeal. Good thing I’d looked up just in time to catch the boy flying into the door, and stumbling. I tried not to burst into laughter, so instead I just chortled quietly and looked around the room as not to give the impression that I was very engrossed, even though I was. Hey, it wasn’t every day that someone flew into the room at top speed like a flailing rocket-ship. Silently I wished that he’d come sit next to me, for he seemed like my type. Well, I tried not to bumble around on a daily basis, but I figured that by making such a fool of himself we had something in common. Plus, it wouldn’t hurt to be entertained; perhaps he had more out of the ordinary making-an-entrance stories. From the back of the room, I tried to catch his eye. Hopefully the teacher wouldn’t send him out, because that would suck. There goes my entertainment. Clearing my throat a little, I raised my eyebrows, as if that would make me more noticeable. If he did see me, I’d gesture to the desk next to mine, which was empty. Well, the teacher would probably move him closer to the front, but I’d find a way to communicate.
Suddenly, I knew just who the note would go to.

[Jacob C. Quinto]

Quin pretended to listen as he received some small talk about being punctual and dedicated. The only thing the junior could do was nod along, being too tired to argue. He picked up the biology books he had scattered around. After the lacture, he was asked to sit.

He looked for an empty seat. There were two. One was near the front, right in front of the teacher, while the other was way at the back. Trudging along, Quin headed for the back seat. Isn't that the decent choice? He sat down and placed his books on the table, plopping down onto the chair grudgingly. Why was school always so boring?

Filing away those thoughts for later, Quin leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs as far as they could go. It was a troublesome thing, school, because there were just so many unbearable rules. Why couldn't students be allowed to do things freely? Quin shook his head and stared ahead. Biology time...

[Luke Peters]

hey (: welcome to hell biology! I’m giselle, and i really loved your entrance.

Well, might as well state the facts right off the bat. I wasn’t ever one for not making the first move, in fact, I quite enjoyed it. I liked being the spontaneous type, because it boosted my self-confidence when I became so likeable. If you haven’t noticed, by the way, I modified my note. Well, I might as well give him something a little more interesting to reply to than just: hey and a poorly constructed smiley face. Oh yeah, did I mention he took the seat near mine? I felt accomplished somehow, even though I realized that he probably didn’t choose it because of my subtle hints. Oh well, I could pretend, right?

With a small smile, I re-folded the note and casually directed my eyes towards the front of the room. I was always sneaky when passing notes, even to the person directly opposite or in front of me. When I was younger, I used to pretend I was a secret agent, so I guess that still kind of rolls around in my head. Yeah, I wanted to marry James Bond, so what? Sean Connery was hot.
Pushing the newly folded piece of paper into my lap, I gathered it into my fingers, and “accidentally” dropped it near the boy’s desk. I tried to avert my eyes away from his reaction, but if I noticed that it was still not found minutes later, I’d have to revert to some more… blatant, actions. The clearing of the throat always worked nicely, but so did the “I’ve dropped that, can you get. It. For. Me?” accompanied by a wink and a subtle head nod. For now though, I didn’t need to bring out the big guns. I’d wait until desperate times called for desperate measures.

Rolling my neck around, I watched the teacher, jiggling my foot impatiently. If there was something I hated more than biology, then it had to be waiting. Waiting for the bell to ring, waiting for the day to be over…
Waiting for a note to be passed back.
If you haven’t guessed by now, I’m terribly impatient.

[Jacob C. Quinto]

Quin's eyes weren't actually on the teacher. They were having their own little adventure, darting up and down to inspect the classroom. It didn't seem so bad. The usual skeleton at the corner, a bunch of books on a shelf... the normal stuff.

He drummed the table with his fingers, looking at the floor now. Phwip. Was that a paper? Blinking, Quin bent down to scoop the paper up, confused. He averted his eyes to the person next to him, and saw that she was fidgeting. Problem One: Who was the sender? Answered.

Unfolding the paper, Quin read the note and smirked. Hell, huh? Great minds think alike. he read what this 'Giselle' said about his entrance. He thought about it and chortled. Maybe he could use that entrance to catch a girl's attention next time too. Shaking his flirty personality out, he picked up his pencil and scribbled down:

'Jacob, but the world calls me Quin.'

He folded the paper again but then he thought about it. As an afterthought, he added:

'Currently cursing the person who invented school.'

Problem Two: What to reply? Solved. Quin folded the paper once again, an dropped it under his table. He gave it a light kick, and it swerved, stopping as it hit the leg of her chair. He watched to see if she noticed it.

[Luke Peters]

Out of the corner of my eye I noticed him finding the paper. I smirked, and crossed my arms, awaiting its arrival. Since I’d been into riding for so long, my peripheral vision had improved much over the years, allowing me to glance straight ahead but still focus on what was going on next to me. I never realized how handy it could be until now, awaiting that tiny slip of paper to get shoved back to me one way or another. After a good few moments of “paying attention,” I figured I had earned enough brownie points by now to let myself look around. I did so nonchalantly, only pausing momentarily to catch the boy scribbling something on the note. Patiently I turned back to face the teacher, ready to sneakily receive the paper.

As soon as I saw him kick it, I pounced upon it like a cat to a mouse. Well, maybe not that fast, I waited a few seconds after he returned it as to not seem a. too over eager and b. to obvious. I really didn’t think the teacher was going to bust me for a note, but you never knew. Plus I just liked being stealthy. Bending down, I used the ‘just itching my leg’ charade to casually grab the note and tuck it into my palm. Returning to my desk, I opened and read.
So, he had a sense of humor, that was always nice. I had to resist looking at him and throwing him a secret smile. Clicking my pen, I bent over the paper to reply. But what to say? Casually I lifted up my head so my eyes could exercise around the room, that always helped me to think. Idea clicking, I made a little sound of recognition and turned back to the paper.

isn’t it just horrible though? i can think of a million other things that i could be wasting my time doing (; are you new here?

I re-folded the note, and stretched, casually flinging the note towards him when my hand reached the lowest point to the ground. Afterwards, I continued to wait.
After all, there wasn’t anything else to do.

[Jacob C. Quinto]

Quin yawned. Boy, biology was boring. He glanced quickly at the girl on his left, which he now knew as Giselle. He heard a short scribble onto the paper, and then a soft 'plip'. The paper had came back to him.

Bending down to pick it up, Quin dropped his pencil on purpose as if to pick that up. He stuffed the paper into his palm as he picked the black and yellow pencil up.

He gave a smile as he read its contents, readying hid pencil to write down what he intended too.

'Yeah, first days really suck, no matter where you seem to be.'

He sighed. There wasn't much to write about, especially with the mood he was in. Usually Quin would have been writing paragraphs and paragraphs of information, being his cocky and flirty self, as he is. But the day seemed dull and just wrong for flirting.

Wait, what? Quin thought, sitting up straight. Since when was a day not right to flirt? It was a constant thing he did, even with a few teachers every now and then. Quin was playful, and being 'unflirty' was just wrong of him. But it sounds bad to flirt through a piece of paper too, doesn't it? He added:

'So... what's up? PS: Don't say the sky, or the ceiling. I'm sure we all know that. And don't say the opposite of down either. I tried that once.'

Quin sighed. Maybe when class was over, he'd give her a real Casimire introduction. He smirked at the thought, and slowly tossed the paper onto her table, since the teacher was writing on the board.

//OOC: Sorry for the bad quality and late reply, I'm having this major exam and won't be too active for the next two months or so. :( //

[Luke Peters]

Ah, so he’s playing pick-up games now too, huh? Sick. I noticed him fake a dropped pencil to receive the note. That was cute, but I’d personally stopped using it after my pencil kept disobeying where I wanted it to go. It’s a little hard to explain how your pencil managed to flip out of your hand and fly across the room, and can you imagine explaining, “oh, it’s because I needed to pick up a note without you noticing!” Yeah, haha, right.
From the corner of my eye, I watched him scribble something down. At least he hadn’t left me hanging. That happened to me before, didn’t it to everybody? I had been passing notes with this kid, -- who just happened to be not too bad on the eyes – when all of a sudden, he’d stopped replying. Now, its one thing when you pass a note that is totally inadequate for a response, but I was pretty sure that from all my boredom spells over the years, I’d learned how to formulate a reply that needed an answer back. But nope, not from this boy. Sometimes, people could be weird.
But I was glad that this particular fellow seemed to be actively engaging in note-passing. But hell, if he was half as bored as I was, then it was a wonder he hadn’t stole it off my desk. (I’d never been known to go that far; I knew my note-passing etiquette.)

I was surprised at the boldness of his next pass, but pleased with his aim. I almost never attempted the actual above the hip pass – don’t you love all the cutesy names? – but his idea told me I should probably start. Tilting my head to the side, I smiled at him before turning back to the paper, which I unfolded quickly. Scanning over what he had written, I grinned silently. First days did suck; this was true no matter where you were. I read the entire note, and then paused. What to reply? ‘What’s up’ is not really a question for discussion, but I do believe I had a response up my sleeve.

hmm, well, I mean there’s always outer space… just kidding. what’s up with me is probably about the same that’s up with you: bored, sitting in class, wishing to be anywhere else.

I drummed my fingers on the paper. Anything else I should add? Hm. I had an idea, but it was risky, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to involve the boy, since I’d just met him. Oh, who was I kidding, sure I did! What a great way to make friends.

hey, do you wanna try to get out of class? (;

It was gross of me to assume that he was that desperate, but you never knew.
Desperate times, as a rule, called for desperate measures.

ooc // it's alright, nothing you can do about that. and your quality isn't bad, don't be silly(:

[Jacob C. Quinto]

Yawwwnnnnnnn. Quin's eyes were drooping, despite the note passing, which kept him alive. "Homeostasis is the ability of an open system to regulate its internal environment to maintain a stable condition by means of multiple dynamic equilibrium adjustments controlled by interrelated regulation mechanisms. All living organisms, whether unicellular or multicellular, exhibit homeostasis. Homeostasis exists at the cellular level, for example, cells mainta-"

What. The. Heck. Quin was bad at science, but this, this was much worse. He shook his head as to keep his heavy eyelids open, giving Giselle a quick glance then turned back to the teacher.

As soon as he retrieved the note safely into his hands, he unfolded it quietly and read what the blond had said. He nodded in silent agreement, anywhere else was better than sitting in such a dull class. Especially if it had anything to do with homostas or whatever the heck that was just now.

Quin glanced at Giselle and smirked, raising his right eyebrow -a trick he had spent a couple of hours on to make perfect. Some people could do it naturally, lucky things. He wrote down on the note, and tossed it back to her. Maybe this day wasn't so bad afterall.

Sure, what d'you suggest?

[Luke Peters]

Hmmm, what did I suggest? After skimming over the note, looking for his latest reply, I tapped my pencil to my lips. Don’t get me wrong, I’d managed to extricate myself from the classroom more than once, but for some reason, I was having a mental block thinking of a way to make our escape. Possibly because there was another being I had to advise? Teacher’s barely let two kids out alone together, especially not a boy and a girl. Who knows of the havoc they could cause?! I smiled inwardly, and allowed my mind to roam for a second or two. We could always… no, too predictable. Or, there’s… nah, too complicated! I clicked my tongue, mostly out of habit. Isn’t that funny? Usually, when trying to get Romeo to get a move on – although that was hardly necessary, since he always seemed to be in the fast lane – I clicked in a similar manner. Now, when my thought process was slow, I clicked to try and speed it up. Funny, Giselle, real funny.

Ah, thought of one. It would be quite tricky to pull off, but I think that we could do it. Smiling, I scribbled frantically on the paper, and threw it back to him, quite boldly. Upon reading the note, he’d find:

just go along with me, k?(:

I know, a pretty shoddy explanation, but I was good at those. I looked over at him casually; waiting until I was sure he read it, before getting up to sharpen my pencil. It was all a charade of course, part of the plan, and I made sure to look back and throw him a wink before bouncing off to complete my mission. For a few moments, I stood at the sharpener, nonchalantly drawing out my pencil to check how progress was going. I didn’t actually need to sharpen it, since I was writing with pen, but no one needed to know that. With a little sigh, I looked back again, raising my eyebrows at him just a little. Hopefully he wasn’t going to be dumbfounded at my plan, and hopefully he was smart enough to go along with it like it had actually happened. What had actually happened? Oh, you’ll see. Testing the point gingerly with my finger, I sashayed back over to my seat; slowly, casually. And then, uh-oh! Part two of my plan, executed with perfection. I Tripped. Well, fake tripped, really, but it looked real enough. I allowed my ankle to twist, and I fell – quite stylishly arranged on the floor, if I do say so m’self – to the ground with a small cry of ‘pain.’ Since I was right by my desk, I tried to slip Quin a look that said, “hey, you’re supposed to be helping me, go along with it,” but it was hard to do that and achieve a genuine look of distress. Still, I tried with all my might to do so, and I think I accomplished it pretty well.
“Miss? I called sweetly from the floor, trying to look as pained as possible, “May I – owch – please, go to the nurse?”
Mission accomplished, now all I needed was Quin to come to my ‘rescue.’
Cough cough. (;

[Jacob C. Quinto]

(Lol, I got it when you tripped. XD)

Gazing at the pencil on his table, Quin let out a breath. The teacher wasn't so boring, it was just the subject that was being taught which seemed so horrifying to him. Biology. Even the word made the world seem dull.

He saw the note land right under his eyes, and he opened it hesitantly. Reading what the girl wrote, Quin raised his eyebrow at her. 'This plan had better be convincing enough', the look said. Quin waited patiently for Giselle, and watched as she went over to the front and sharpen her pencil. She sent him a wink, and he could only shake his head and smirk.

Returning to her seat, Giselle tripped. Quin looked at her, confused. Then it hit him. I see... he thought. “Miss, may I – owch – please, go to the nurse?” the blonde said.

Quin got up and spoke at the teacher. "I'll take her to the nurse, if that's ok miss." he told the teacher, flashing her his trademark Casimire half-smile. The teacher nodded, worried for Giselle. 'Poor thing', Quin thought. 'I hope she doesn't worry too much.'

He offered Giselle his hand and pulled her up, leading her out the door. Once they were out, Quin couldn't help but laugh a bit. "That was a rather convincing act." he stated, leaning against the wall. "Well, now what?" Giving her his teasing look, Quin challenged her to see if she had planned this far.

[Luke Peters]

Yes, perfect, he had caught on. I could not help but smirk a little bit as he came over to help me out, but I disguised it well as a small, sorry smile to the teacher. Out of the classroom I limped, wincing each time I landed on my ‘hurt’ foot. ‘I’m okay,’ I mouthed to a few worried-looking classmates. Good, if they believed it, then it was authentic. Once we were out of the door, I didn’t look back. When Quin stopped and started laughing, I clapped a hand over his mouth, and giggled, “Shhh! We don’t want to give it away yet.” I continued to limp down the hall, faster though, and out into the courtyard. Then I exhaled. You could never be too careful.

Assuming Quin had followed me; I began to laugh, and bent down to massage my ankle. Faking a twist had been no small task, and my ankle did actually hurt a little, but nothing major, I would live. “So,” I said turning to him, my eyes wild with adrenaline, “what’cha think about that?”
I wasn’t trying to impress him – okay, that was a little lie, but whatever. As I waited for him to reply though, I took from my person a pink slip of paper and a pen. Since I didn’t have pockets in this outfit, I just slipped the two between the skirt’s elastic and my skin. Wheeling around to face the wall, I changed the paper’s dates a little bit. Sure, It could get me into some trouble, but I had done this a million times, what would stop me from getting away with it now?

The paper was one of those you get from the office, a little pink square allowing you school-approved permission to leave the campus. The problem was, occasionally the administrators would forget to write in pen, leaving all these pencil marks to be erased, and the right information to be inked in.
“Got the time?” I asked, blinking at him. He just happened to have caught me in my good day, a day where I had a full plan. Usually I just had to wing it, but today… today was good. With a little half smile, I shifted my body weight onto my afflicted angle. Oh, oops!
I could tell that this was going to be a fun rest of day.

[Jacob C. Quinto]

This girl seemed amusing. Quin could only smirk and hold his breath as to not laugh.

"Not bad," he said as a reply to her question, not trying to sound impressed -though he was, ever so slightly- ,"quite good, in fact." This, of course, was something Quin rarely said, since he had never met anyone so very daring. Well, all the better.

As Giselle withdrew a slip of pink paper from her, Quin couldn't help but sneak a quick peak as she fiddled with her skirt. Quin or course, was an adolescent, so what could stop him from being a little more hormonal that he should be? He sighed at himself. Maybe he could be more serious one day, when the puberty stuff settles.

The blonde asked for the time, and Quin glanced at his watch. "11:48," he informed her, curious of how exactly they were going to seriously get away with this. It hadn't occurred to him that the teachers in the school could actually write things down with a pencil. "Heh", he thought, satisfied, "my old teachers didn't even have 'pencil' in their vocab."

He bent down to see what Giselle was doing, his figure casting a shadow over her and the paper. This looked like it was going to be fun.

(OOC: Sorry this post was seriously late. My O-levels are in September, so until then I'm busy, and that really sucks.)

[Luke Peters]

I giggled and curtsied at Quin’s praise. It was not often that anyone complimented my ideas, for I was usually known as being ‘the dumb one.’ I wasn’t dumb, just a little slow sometimes. I guess that I was what you would consider ‘blonde.’ Still, I had my share of good ideas, and I knew for a fact that Quin wasn’t just applauding me for no reason – this was a damn good plan, if I did say so myself.
Smugly grinning, I took the time from his lips and jotted it down on the pink slip. It looked pretty authentic, especially now that it was written in pen. I softly blew on it to dry the ink, the last thing I needed was it to smudge all over the place. When he spoke about his teacher, I threw back my head and laughed. It was true, about the pencils, most teachers were extremely iffy. It just happened though, that the particular administrator who had administered this pass had been too busy tending to her phone to realize she had grabbed a pencil. I wasn’t about to object, the more penciled in passes I had, the better.

Once the pass was dry, I turned towards Quin and smiled. Alright, phase three of my plan. To avoid any confusion, I ran it through verbally first. He did wonderfully at improvising in the classroom, but compared to teachers, administrators were a whole ‘nother animal.
“Now, I said, speaking in low, hushed tones, “this is how it’s going down. We’re going to the office, and you’re going to act as my escort. I’ll flash them the pass, and we’ll walk out. If they give you ANY difficulty, just say that I’ve hurt my ankle, and you’re helping me to my dorm or something. If they persist, I’ll make it a dramatic show. Just… follow my lead.” I smiled at him, and bent down to massage my ankle. I’d actually forgotten which one I’d fallen on, and that could prove problematic, but I’d try not to worry about it. I took a limping step away from the wall, and turned my attention to Quin, giving him a raised eyebrow.
“Well? Are you going to take my arm, or what?”
Bossy, yes, but also quite flirtatious. This was a fun little game we’d gotten ourselves into, that was for sure. Let’s just hope we could get out.