Pink Poogle Toy Forum

High school.

This is the land where stereotypes are left free to fester. Cheerleaders and jocks are written off as shallow beings, teachers, cafeteria ladies and caretakers are alternately hated or ignored, and a student can pass days without any of their peers really noticing them.

You can be anyone you want: a student, a teacher, another staff member, or even a parent if you wish. The idea is to either choose a side character that was mentioned very briefly in a previous player's post -- e.g. be the janitor from 'Rosie side-stepped the janitor with his pail, and saw David in the distance. Her eyes lit up' -- or a whole new character who comments on a previous player's character -- 'Rob heard Jenny's catty remarks about Helen, but since he wasn't Helen, he didn't care.'

You must make at least one link (preferably more) to a previous player's post, whether through character, event, or observation. Of course, the better you can show how people can have widely inaccurate perceptions of others is ideal. (Thus empathic, understanding characters who see past everyone's masks are not allowed.)

The setting is high school. Your role is to question people's misconceptions, to challenge stereotypes, and to show a different side to the story -- to add more depth, if you will. Character bios are not necessary. Your writing will be sufficient to show your character's personality. All posts must be written in third-person.

You have one post, and one post only. You cannot post on this thread again after you have made your post.

All questions are to be PM'ed to me. No OOC comments, please.

Start whenever you like.

High School.

The land of jocks, cheerleeders, nerds, musicians, teachers, administrators, disciplinarians, and HER.

Doris.

Doris Bolzsh.

She was the Queen of the High School cafeteria, and she knew it all. After all, it was HER cafeteria. SHE cooked the food. SHE cleaned the dishes. SHE washed the tables. And SHE was the person who cashed out the snot nosed kids, uppity teachers and annoying staff of HER school. Yes, that is right. It was HER school. Sure, principal Jefferies (Jeffery? Johnson? Whatever. His name was unimportant to HER.) was technically in charge. Sure, some students didn't always eat cafeteria food. (How dare those ungrateful persons be allowed into HER lunchroom after such an affront to Doris' cooking!)

And today... today was it. A travesty above and beyond all travesties. Doris’ mind was reeling. How could this have happened? Pausing, she played the day through in her head.

It was the third Tuesday of the month, which meant Spaghetti and Meatballs or Hot Ham and Cheese sandwiches, with a side salad and drink. And so, arriving at school her customary 22 minutes late Doris began her routine of rushing the food from the freezer and refrigerator into the not-yet-warmed-up ovens, positive that her excellent cooking skills and mere presence was enough to overcome those silly “laws of thermal exchange” as Mr. Estevez, the cute looking physics teacher had mentioned to her one day. Her exuberence in her food preparedness accidentally led to the spilling of two bags of bouncing meatballs onto the kitchen floor, but she used that shovel Mr. Jones the groundskeeper left in the back corner by the exit to scoop them up. Using a fry basket to hold the errant food, she decided to try cooking them in the hot fryer today to speed up the process. Besides, if the carnival she went to last weekend could cook Oreo cookies in a fryer, of course SHE could use the fryer to cook meatballs.

And she did.

As usual, the food arrived at the lunch line in time for the students to eat. Everything seemed right with the world. Then it all happened. Dirk, (or was it Rick or Billy or something - the muscle-bound football star) started picking on the little geeky boy with the oversized book bag and enormous overbite. As the bully tormented the little guy, Doris saw something snap inside the little guy and then… well, what happened next was something Doris never hoped to ever see again. The little guy was swinging his arms and yelling, perhaps hoping a flailing limb would connect with his tormentor. However, the brute merely sidestepped the charging nerd and sent him flying with a well timed toss into, and then OVER the food counter. The overstressed fabric of the school bag burst as the boy landed face first in the spaghetti, sending books spilling over the Hot Ham and Cheese tray as the boy's momentum caused all the trays to spill onto the ground.

Needless to say, seeing an entire day’s worth of food so carelessly spread across the floor was enough to cause near cardiac arrest in the poor woman. Clutching her chest in pain, she slid off of her stool and onto the floor, darkness clouding her vision.

Doris wept that day for the food. It was the worst day ever.

Jeff stretched his legs, already sick of detention. He drummed his hands on the seat in front of him, anxious to get out all of his energy. Mr. Estevez scowled at him and whispered a harsh chastisement. Jeff stopped and leaned back, putting his hands behind his head. As his eyes closed, the events of the day flashed in front of his eyes, bringing him back to why he was in detention in the first place.

Jeff woke up in the morning feeling terrible. He had terrible morning breath and he was starving. After a huge breakfast that his mother, Janine Turner, fixed for him. He had bacon from George Duncan's farm across town. That kid always spoke with such a hick accent at school that Jeff felt like sitting him down one day and giving him a stern lecture on not becoming a hick. This wasn't the South, even. This was up in the North, far from the hicks that Duncan seemed to be. He had some eggs from Lucy Young's farm over West of town. She was a geeky girl, always getting the best test scores in all of Jeff's classes. And she always had. Jeff speculated that she would end up as one of those female lawyer-types that never...

Jeff finished up breakfast and grabbed his Letterman Jacket and his bookbag. He hollered goodbye to his father and stepped out the door. He patted his kitten on the head and jumped off the porch, rolling into a run. He jogged the entire way to school, once passing that Gothic kid Cedric Marshall. Cedric always looked dark and wore black and had the whole makeup thing going on. Jeff thought that he looked ridiculous, but he never mentioned it to Cedric's face. He also passed Harold Kumanji, that Japanese kid who always had his head in a book. The kid never even looked where he was going. It was a small wonder Harold hadn't broken a nose already. Jeff could definitely see that happening.

Once he got to school, he waved to Mr. Jones and went to his class. He didn't listen to anything that Mr. Russell said in his first class. He moved on after the bell rang, trying to strut and look as powerful as possible. He saw his usual group of people to hang out with standing in a massive group in the hallway, mostly blocking it. Jeff ignored this and looked at his best friend Chip Fullman. He and Chip squated down and crossed thier outstretched arms and huffed and hooted and struck their arms against each other as they jumped up in the air. The entire group erupted in laughter and praise. Jeff gave Chip a big hug. He heard people throughout the gathered crowd ask him all sorts of rhetorical questions, like, "How's our big football star?" He finally moved on to his other classes. He didn't remember much from those classes either.

But then it was lunchtime. That was always Jeff's favorite time of the day. He loved to see the lunchlady, whatever her name was, sit up on her giant stool and oversee everyone getting their lunches. He went to the lunchroom, followed by a large group of people. Most of the group branched off, going in different directions of the lunchroom. Jeff understood this. Not everyone could sit with him all the time. He moved toward the lunchline, but found that he was out of money. He stood off to the side of the line, trying to remember some favors that he could call to get money for lunch. He remembered Harold Kumanji, and the giant favor that Harold owed him. Jeff looked around the lunchroom. At first he couldn't see him, but then he suddenly noticed that Harold was standing only a few feet away, also near the lunchline.

Jeff walked over and tapped Harold on the shoulder. Harold never liked that, for someone to touch him. Most of the time, Jeff didn't have a choice, because whenever Harold was stuck in a book, there was no retrieving him from there. Harold looked up with a sudden look of both fear and anger on his face. Jeff smiled. Harold took a backstep, bumping into the lunchline. He skittered forward, standing on the other side of Jeff from the line. He spoke, his voice cracking.

"What do you want, Jeffrey?" Jeff found the way Harold spoke amusing. He had never heard Harold refer to anyone in any form but the full and proper form. He smirked as he heard his full name, intrigued by the brainy guy.

"Do you remember that time that I lent you five dollars so that you could get that Klingon Bible?" Jeff said, leaning in conspriatorily. Harold's eyes opened wide. His face grew angry.

"I thought you agreed never to speak of that again, Jeffrey" His eyes darted from side to side as he looked to see who had heard Jeff's words. "You promised me that you wouldn't..." He said, his voice cracking again.

"I know, Harold, I know. I did promise, but I was just wondering if I could have my five bucks back. I need lunch money, and you owe me money anyway." Jeff said, trying to reason with Harold. Harold's already slanted eyes narrowed.

"You told me that that money was a gift, Jeffrey. Why are you suddenly wanting it back? Are you rescinding your gift?" Harold said, his voice a whisper.

"I just thought that you could give me the money back. You know, I scratch your back, you scratch mine kind of deal." Jeff said, running out of things to say. "I didn't know that a Klingon Bible was that big of a deal." Harold's face turned bright red, which was hard for someone like him to do. He threw down his bookbag by Jeff's feet and brought up his fists. Jeff was surprised by this sudden act of defiance. He held up his hands, trying to show Harold that he meant no harm. Harold charged at him, swinging his fists. Jeff jumped back out of the way, trying to avoid the flying fists. Harold ran forward, going straight, not compensating for Jeff's relocation. His foot hit his bookbag just as he pushed off with that foot. Jeff saw what was coming and reached out to catch Harold, but it was far too late. Harold flew over the top of the lunchline and onto all of the trays. Food went flying in every direction. Jeff got covered in it, and it made him upset. He went to go to the bathroom to get cleaned up, but Mr. Jones ran over and grabbed him by the arm. He hauled Jeff to the principal's office.

Jeff looked up at the principal and smiled. "It's not what it looked like, Dr. Henry!" He claimed, drawing insulting looks from the principal. The principal worked on the paperwork for quite some time, forcing Jeff to sit in the chair the entire time. This made Jeff miss his favorite teacher, Coach Jerome, for Physical Education. After Dr. Henry finished up the paperwork, he informed Jeff that he was to report to Detention directly after school. Ten seconds after that, the dismissal bell for the school rang. Jeff walked to Mr. Estevez's room, trying to keep from crying at his misfortune.

And so here he was, bored out of his mind. His eyes were only serving as mental projection screens, and he kept going over the days events, trying to figure out how he was going to tell his parents. Chip's parents were always cool about it when Chip came home with bad grades or Disciplinary Slips, but Jeff's parents always came down on him harshly for poor school performance, whatever manifestation that came out as. He would get grounded for this, no matter what he said. He was guilty before considered innocent. It was the worst day ever.

The smell of sweat filled the musty gymnasium. It was a smell that Mark Jerome had come to love. The loving came from the fact that the smell had come from pure dedication. Or lack of deodorant. Whichever. Mark Jerome tried to be an optimist.

The school day had just ended, and it was a Friday. Fridays meant no football practice, meaning Mark didn't have to spend the next two hours of his life yelling at boys just trying to do their best. It was a pretty harsh job. It would be nice to just pat all the boys on the back every once in a while for going above and beyond every expectation that had ever been set in front of them. But he was under constant criticism, and kindness didn't make a good football team. Mark had been a football star himself back in his glory days. Being a young man, his glory days were not too far behind him. He had been a quarterback- a bit cliche, yes. But that was what he was. He slept, ate, and breathed football. It was his life.

How had he lost that? He wasn't quite sure himself. Somehow all it took was a couple bad games to turn around people's opinions of him. They lost confidence in him, and he lost confidence in himself. His grades started slipping, and he was kicked off the football team. It only took maybe a semester for the name Mark Jerome to go from legendary to unrecognizable. That was life, though. You go through crap, and you move on. That was his philosophy. And maybe, if you can't, someone will find you and help you out in that aspect. He sighed, thinking of this. Thinking of her.

Her name was Lydia. She had eyes that looked like an ocean and a mind as vast as one. Her entire being amazed every ounce of him. When she was around, the tough physical education teacher and part time football coach melted into pieces. She hadn't been a cheerleader, or a football groupie when he met her while he was still at college. She was... what was she? Lydia. That was all he could say.

She had died last spring. Car accident.

Mark leaned up against the bleachers, rubbing his head. He was the football coach. He shouted at hundreds of students every day during physical education classes. You can't do those things and be allowed to cry, too. It was against the rules. Shaking his head, he picked up his bag and left the school. His old beat up Chevy was waiting for him in the parking lot. Mark remembered that Lydia was always telling him that someday he would need a better car if he ever wanted to get anywhere in life, but he would shake his head and laugh. He loved that Chevy almost as much as he loved her.

Coming out of the school parking lot, he saw some of his best football players- Jim Danes, Luke Cavallos, Calvin Moore. Seeing them only made him drive faster, instead of reminding them about the next home game or practice as he usually did. He couldn't let them see the tears that had no doubt begun to fall onto his cheeks. His home wasn't his destination. Not tonight. He had been thinking of her too much today to go back to the place they had shared for so long. The car navigated itself towards the cemetery, Mark barely having to control the steering wheel. That was what it felt like, anyway. He hadn't done this in a while. He drove in a daze.

And then, what seemed like seconds later, he was staring at the ground. At the stone. The sky was a perfect sort of grey for an occasion like this. Mark knelt on the ground and traced her engraved name with his fingers. He grazed the ground with his hand, touching it just slightly, like he had done to her curly blond hair when she was still with him. She liked that. He remembered he hadn't brought her any flowers or a card or anything, which made him feel guilty.

"Sorry," he spoke to the ground, "I'm sure you remember how forgetful I am. It made you laugh sometimes." There was no answer. There never was. Mark pulled his hand across his head again. He wondered where she was. Was she watching him right now? Or was she... was she anywhere at all? Or was she just... gone?

He punched the ground as hard as he could and fell forward onto the grave. He felt himself begin to bawl, and he didn't fight the feeling. In all the hard times since she had left, Mark had never allowed himself to do this. He had never truly cried.

Crying would make it real.

After what felt like both a few seconds and forever, he sat up. He stared right at the stone, not bothering to wipe off his face or collect himself.

"To everyone at the high school, I'm a monster. I scream when they're lazy. I scream when they're working as hard as their bodies can make them work. To them, I am Coach Jerome. Toughest man alive, can't be penetrated. To you... I was Mark. The sensitive man who would cry when he went to the animal shelter. Who wrote poetry and who would play acoustic guitar because he thought it sounded pretty. Who loved you more than he ever thought he would be able to love someone.

Who died forever with you."

Coach Jerome got into his car and drove away.

"Hey -- isn't that the Coach?"
"Yeah, that's him alright. Just look at that old beater -- when is he going to come to his senses and get a new car?"

Calvin looked over at Jim and Luke, shaking his head slightly. "I dunno, you guys. I think it's cool that Coach Jerome has kept his car for that long. Whenever something is wrong with my parents car, they trade it in for a newer one if it's cheaper to do that than get it fixed. The Coach wants us to be dedicated in what we do... and perhaps one of the reasons he keeps that old car is to show us he is dedicated, too," he said as he watched the old Chevy drive away, surprised when the Coach didn't stop to tell them about the next practice as he usually did.

"Whatever, Cal. Hey -- are you going to come with us to the movies today? The movie you've been wanting to see has finally come out. I thought it'd be fun to go see it while it's on the big screen," Jim said, changing the subject. Calvin smiled at the "lack of dedication" his friend had.

"Nah. Maybe tomorrow -- I promised Anna I'd be home early today," Calvin replied. Looking back at Jim, he sarcastically added, "Besides. You called me Cal. You know I hate that."

Luke shoved Calvin on the shoulder lightly. "Calvin, I don't know why you even bother. You know she won't re--"

Calvin turned away quickly, clearing his throat so it wouldn't crack. "I've got to go, Luke, Jim. I'll... see you later." He walked away as fast as possible without letting his teammates know he had been deeply offended, ignoring their pleas for him to come back.

They didn't know how much it hurt, having a sister who couldn't even remember who you were half of the time.

When he was nine, little Anna had gotten sick. Her illness had affected her short-term memory somehow, he didn't know the exact reason why. It didn't matter, all he knew was that Anna couldn't remember him anymore. She had only been five, so she hadn't really made any lasting memories of him and the rest of the family.

He sighed as he turned down the walkway to his house, briefly glancing over at the driveway to see if his father was home yet. The blue car wasn't there, so his father was probably working overtime. He had to do that a lot, so his mother could stay home and take care of Anna.

The screen door squeaked open, and he looked over to see who it was. He smiled as his best friend, Kiley Henderson, stepped out. He had known Kiley ever since Kindergarten. She was almost as much of a sister to him as Anna was. In fact, she was the only one who he had remained close friends with since he had started High School. Likely she would remain the only one he would remain in contact with afterwards, as well.

"Good evening, Cal! I stopped by after school to see if your mother needed any help with anything. She didn't, but I decided to stay and play with Anna until you came home," she greeted. She twisted her head slightly as she studied him. "Is anything wrong, Calvin?"

"No, I'm fine. Thanks for staying with Anna, it means a lot to us. Would you mind staying a bit longer? I was planning on playing a game with her, and it would be a lot more fun if you played with us as well. And then we'll watch a movie afterwards or something," Calvin said brightly. Kiley was the only person outside of the family that was allowed to call him Cal. In fact, it made him feel nice when she did so.

"Sure. I'll call my mom, I'm sure she won't mind if I stay for dinner. I wouldn't be surprised if she was planning for it," Kiley teased. Calvin laughed, knowing it was very likely Mrs. Henderson had -- it wasn't often that Kiley came over and left before then. Kiley was a dear, she loved Anna as much as Calvin did.

Anna was on the couch, watching TV as Calvin entered. She looked over as the door closed, and her face brightened. "Calvin! You're late! What kept you?" she yelled, running over to hug her older brother.

She remembered! Today, she remembered who he was. He hugged her tightly, glad that he had refused the invitation to watch the movie with Jim and Luke. "I'm sorry, my dear. Luke and Jim wanted me to come with them, but I had to refuse them. They just aren't as fun as my sister, are they?"

Kiley laughed at them, and Calvin realized that she had known all along that today was a day Anna remembered things. He turned and glared at her for a second, then laughed as she put on a face of mock horror.

Tonight wouldn't be so bad after all.

'What's the matter, Luke? You look pretty mad.' Connie, a bright, vivacious girl sat down in front of him. 'Didn't you have a good time last night? I heard Jim saying what a great movie you guys were watching.'

Luke groaned involuntarily and regretted it almost immediately. He plastered a goofy smile on his face to make the best of the situation and laughed. 'Ha, of course he said it was a great movie. He hardly even watched it; he was so busy with Sue - ' He stopped himself and shook his head, smiling all the time. He was beginning to let the bitterness show.

'So you didn't like it, then?' Connie quizzed, a slightly puzzled look on her face.

'No, it was just stupid. If I knew what was going to happen, I wouldn't have gone. It was such a waste of time - ' Luke checked himself in time before summarising, 'I hate going to the movies.' Connie gave a start.

'Oh,' was all she said. She looked a little disapppointed about something. There was a short silence. Luke remembered just in time to ask her something about herself. 'So, are you planning anything for this weekend?'

She started slightly, hesitated, then smiled vaguely and shook her head. 'Just homework, you know... Nothing special.' She flushed slightly. 'Oh, I'd better get going. I'm going to be late for class. See ya.' Almost before he knew what was happening, Connie had vanished.

Luke let out the deep breath he just realized he had been holding and relaxed. That had gone pretty well, he thought. He was surprised that Connie would come and talk to him, annoyed at himself for letting his poor mood show, but strangely glad that it had been an excuse to talk to her. Still, he really needed to keep his cool. He could never really tell what Connie was thinking, but even Luke was pretty sure that no one would want to hear him complain about Jim's girlfriend.

Really, he could kill Jim for bringing Susan along. Jim had said absolutely nothing about there being any girls present at the movies - Luke had thought it was just the guys. Susan was one of the most uncomfortable people to be around, especially when she was with Jim. She was possibly the most clingy and mushy person Luke had ever met. He didn't really know what Jim saw in her, but it was possible, you know, that Jim just wanted a girlfriend to show off. Then again, he might really like Susan. He'd definitely forgotten about Luke's existence last night.

If only Susan wouldn't say 'Daaarling!' so often. Where was she from, the freak? Who said 'Daaarling!' anymore?

Watching movies with Sue and Jim wouldn't be so tough if Luke had someone too. He might actually be able to have a conversation about movies with her, someone like Connie, for example. Connie wouldn't miss anything. She'd have plenty of intelligent remarks, but -

'Dude, what were you talking about with that nerdy girl?' Someone punched Luke on the arm. He looked up to see Thomas, another member of the team. For a moment, Luke had no idea who Thomas was talking about.

'Oh, er, nothing important,' Luke said. Thomas narrowed his eyes. Luke sighed dramatically. 'Fine, I was just saying what a bad movie we watched last night. She asked and I didn't really know how to get out of it.'

Thomas laughed as though it was the best joke he'd ever heard. 'Haha! Would ya believe that for a minute there, I thought you liked her? Haha! That was so ridiculous, I know! She's such a nerd and she's way too smart for you!'

Yeah... Too smart for me, but...

'Are you saying that she's out of my reach or I'm out of hers?' Luke mocked in a loud voice. He punched Thomas in return.

Outside, someone shouted Connie's name.