Story Thread - 8/17

[Aquinas]

A memory (cw: hydrophobia):

You awake with a start to the sound of your alarm. It was only a dream.

You roll over with a groan and force your bleary eyes to make out the numbers on your clock. 8:30. The last Tuesday for a while that you'll get to sleep that late.

You go about your morning routine - shower, breakfast, switch on the TV. You're disturbed by the news - still no sign of Mikayla Li. Her mothers are begging anyone who knows anything to come forward. The details of the dream are already starting to fade in your mind, but you think Mikayla was in it. You decide you've been watching the news too close to bedtime.

You check your email. Vice Principal wants to see you today when you get in. You've seen her a few times at various meetings in the last few weeks, but you haven't had the chance to talk to her one-on-one yet. Good, now you'll get the opportunity.

You hop in your car, or on a bike, or on a bus. The town rolls past you - the bars of Dear Bellam are tossing out the garbage and putting up their breakfast menus for last night's patrons with this morning's hangovers. Someone's working on fixing the skylight on the roof of the art museum - it must have taken a beating in that hailstorm last month. The joggers in Meadows U shirts are out in force in Syme Park, a few of them stopping for a water break around the theater troupe's stage. There's a long drive-thru line at Big Bang Burger, but what else is new.

Finally, you roll up to Barton High School.

The facade hasn't changed much since the 50's - and that gives it a certain charm, you think. Today the charm is accentuated by the flowers out front, pink and white and yellow, which Mr. LeFleur has spent all summer cultivating to bloom in a pattern that spells out

WELCOME BACK CRUSADERS
WE'VE MISSED YA

Robbie's out front now, trimming his masterpiece - he gives you a wave as you pull up. As you wave back, you're still running over your day in your head - you need to finish setting up your room for tomorrow, but first you need to swing by and see Vice Principal Hunt. And that's when you notice the others, heading down the lawn beside you towards the front doors.

It seems the four of you arrived at exactly the same time.

[GM_3826]

Naomi clutched her head. Her mind raced as she realized that could reflect on how she was perceived by the other faculty members. She shuffled her hair and smiled nervously. Why did she have an awful headache? Briefly, she considered the possibilities before deciding it was probably just anxiety surrounding the beginning of the semester. Plus, Mikayla Li's disappearance put everyone on edge.

"Morning." Naomi said this offhandedly as she attempted to conceal the stress she was feeling. Usually, she'd just continue walking, but she felt some strange urge to say something, no matter the reason. Does it have something to do with that dream?

Naomi paused before turning to the others that had arrived."So, er, are you here to see Vice Principal Hunt as well?" She figured that was as good an explanation as any to why they were here at the same time. She reminded herself to focus on the day that lied ahead, although she wasn't quite at ease.

[[VIOLET]]

day 0:

Slipping out of his car right in front of the school, Castillo briefly pat himself down (shoulders, waist, pockets) to make sure he at least didn't look like a complete disaster. The collar of his blue-and-white gingham shirt was fine... buttons all in the right holes... shit, he didn't tuck it in all the way on his left side. Keys and phone in pocket. On the shoulder above his good leg rested a black single-strap backpack, stuffed to its full capacity only for today.

...

He really could leave right now.

Not show up, get scolded, ignore that too, get fired... find a nice, scenic ditch somewhere out of town...

...he shook his head, blinking the fatigue out of his eyes. If he went through all the trouble of getting dressed and skipping the cigarettes this morning, he could stay and see what Hunt had to say about Mikayla. But it'd better be good...

---

"That's what the two of you are here for?" Castillo's unenthused reply was lifted from a low monotone only by what could vaguely be described as disdain. "Mgh. They probably want to talk to us about the 'headline of the month' in smaller groups."

("Unsure why today, given we were all here last week," he mumbled-- "whatever." )

"Well, at least everyone's here--uhp."  

Finally, Castillo angled his chin further enough sideways to see everyone properly: he noticed Shimizu and Redding in the periphery of his vision, but not far behind them...

"...you're here too, Bright." Barely unable to contain his elation, his brow rose as he noted Betty's more-than-familiar head of fiery red hair coming up from four o'clock. He acknowledged her with a subtle swing of his cane. "Sorry. Guess I didn't see you over the new shrubs--good morning."

And without waiting another beat, Castillo hiked up his backpack--continuing on a steady hobble towards (and probably through, provided he lived for ten more steps) the front door.

[Sharks]

that morning:

After parking her Subaru and checking herself one last time in the mirror - pale blue dress, yellow cardigan, white-gold colored heels, open-toed, all her nails were still painted yellow from when she was partying a couple days ago, her makeup was acceptable, all her hair but her bangs was pulled back into a tighter-than-usual-bun... yeah, this was fine - she stepped out, pretended the sun didn't make her want to die, waved to Mr. LeFleur, and walked over to wait why are there other people here what the fuck.

Blinking her surprise away, she recovered mostly in time to catch Cas's barb. Fucker. But she grinned and bore it, and if her smile felt like it had a bit of an edge, well. Good luck proving that in court, dipshit.

"It's fine, Cas - I wouldn't expect you to be able to see over these things," she said, gesturing at a shrub which couldn't have concealed a medium-sized dog. Then she walked, faster than he could with his short, short legs - and maybe, more charitably, his limp - to the door and held it open. "Here, let me get that for you."

[GM_3826]

...? Naomi was confused as to what exactly the two of them were saying. Couldn't they see each other just fine? The fact that they couldn't be speaking literally given that they were the same height had hardly crossed her mind.

[[VIOLET]]

"They still letting you earn badges in the Girl Scouts at your age, kid?" Castillo accelerated his pace slightly, if just to get Betty out of his sight a moment sooner--briefly meeting her gaze with a derisive wrinkle of his nose. "Well, better late than never... don't go tripping over your nice shoes racing me for the next door, all right? I hear they just waxed the floors."

From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Naomi's blankly puzzled expression--he hoped she wouldn't take that seriously, or else that'd be pretty difficult for Betty to explain. It'd be funny... if Naomi wasn't so damn gullible. Or, better put, just not... er... "there" quite yet. In the sense that he could never derive any shred of malicious joy from pulling her leg.

(For that reason, yes, and also because she was unbearably adorable; though you'd never hear it out of his mouth. No, that was going right with him to the scenic highway ditch, and that was for the best.)

Oh well. Too late. Odds were that over the next nine months, he'd be able to count the amount of times they crossed paths on one hand, anyway.

"Any of you know what else we're supposed to talk about today?" he called out without turning around, "besides introducing ourselves to Hunt? Not much to see in that email, at least on my end."

[Sock]

Traveling:

John clambered out of his car, flapping the sleeves of his shirt to try and air them out, grabbed his laptop bag from the passenger seat, and began slow-rushing up the lawn to the entrance. Looking up, he noticed that Naomi, Castillo, and Betty were already up ahead of him, and chatting about...something? Odd that all three had apparently gotten there around the same time. "Betty, JP, Naomi." He gave the upwards head nod of acknowledging someone you know. "Wait, Vice Principal wants to talk to you too?" Excellent job of slipping into the conversation there. "Wonder what she's up to?" And with that, he rolled his shoulders, began the process of assuming the "Mr. Redding" identity, and marched up the stairs.

[Sharks]

Damn, Betty wished she'd been in the Girl Scouts, that would've been rad as hell. There had been this sort-of similar church-organized thing, but that had sucked and also she got kicked out for punching another girl in the face. A couple times. In her defense, that bitch had been mean as hell. Joke's on you, Sarah-Anne, your parents got divorced, too, like, three years later. Judgmental prick.

"Worry about yourself, old man," she called, just as John ambled in. As if she would trip. She'd gotten pretty damn good at wearing heels in the past year, if she said so herself - she tended to pick up on things like that fairly quickly, and the absolute certainty in her heart of hearts that the extra inches they gave her over Castillo bothered him, even if he would never admit it, motivated her to wear them to work whenever possible. Hell, she could run in them if she had to. Not as quickly as in normal shoes, but still.

"The VP was pretty vague, yeah. Don't know what she'd need the four of us for that wouldn't call for everyone else, too, though." If it was about Mikayla, that would definitely be the sort of thing you gather all the staff for, right? If the information was important, it would be better to get it to everyone as soon as possible. Maybe this is more team-building exercises? If she wants me to get along with Cas, she'd better push him to get along with me just as hard. Heh, I can imagine the look on his face...

[Aquinas]

The interior of the school was still. The sound of Mrs. Rathnam's heels clicking in some hallway further somehow accentuated the quiet - there was something surreal about hearing only a few sounds bouncing around a space typically full of noise. A few enterprising Student Council and Yearbook members had been here early - there was a huge banner running above the auditorium doors directly ahead which read, "WE LOVE YOU MIKAYLA", signed by as many students as Connie Hill could track down.

The floors were actually pretty newly waxed. Mr. LeFleur ran a tight ship.

Jasper Huffington peeked out from behind his cameras and grinned at the quartet as they entered. "Well well well. They still letting you troublemakers teach here?" It was a pretty standard start-of-school greeting for Mr. Huffington, but it's possible a hint of honesty crept into it when he saw Castillo. It was always hard to get a read on Huffington behind those coke-bottle lenses.

Betty and Naomi's classrooms were up ahead, on the left and right respectively. Every room had a poster on the door with a picture of the school's icon - a knight's helmet - and the teacher's name on it. The tape holding Naomi's poster up had lost its stickiness and fallen flat on the ground at some point last night.

Mrs. Rathnam rounded the corner as they approached, carrying a stack of books from the library. She was dressed more casually than she would be tomorrow, but she still managed to look chic in her red cardigan, her dark hair tossed in a loose updo. Her face lit up in a moment when she saw the group.

"Oh heeeey! Good morning," she chirped, going in to side-hug Naomi and then Betty while balancing the books at the same time. "How are you all this morning? I am SO behind with setting up my room, I'm going to be here so late today, I don't even want to think about it."

[GM_3826]

Naomi was a little uncomfortable being hugged by anyone, even someone she was fairly close to. Mrs. Rathnam had been her mentor since her very first year at this school after taking her under her wing, so one would think she would know these things by now. "Mrs. Rathnam, remember how I feel about being touched..." She was a little distracted, admittedly, since she felt a need to put the poster back up. And now that Naomi thought about that, she was reminded of the conversation she was a part of. "Er, good morning. I'm also falling a bit behind, although I don't have as much to work on as the other teachers." Naomi decided to leave the discussion about the art department's funding problem on the table for now. "I don't think we've really had the chance to talk. Things have been so busy." Naomi still felt a little bit guilty about that. She wanted to say something else, but had a difficult time phrasing the last part. "Is there anything new in your life you'd like to tell us?" Naomi felt that was stiff and awkward, but she wanted to say something regardless. People are supposed to talk after getting the chance to see their friends again, right?

[[VIOLET]]

Just as much as anyone else, Castillo's eyes were drawn to the colorful banner hanging above the auditorium doors. He could only guess who put that together... a thought he had with something between a mental eyeroll and a pensive sigh. Never mind the kids being sentimental; the fact that they were still coming here at all with the possibility of an unidentified serial intruder hanging over their heads--god forbid he think of what else they might be--twisted his tired expression back into a scowl. School really stopped for nothing in this country... not even dead kids.

Well, knock on wood. Part of him had an uncharacteristically optimistic feeling that Mikayla wasn't far, but where or why... he couldn't make a faithful assertion without facts. Though he... really would prefer if she came back unharmed and undisturbed--if there was a way. The cheap plastic rosary hanging from his rearview mirror might have gotten a reverent rub in hopes of such a thing while he was forced to wait at the stoplight three intersections down, but nothing more. No point.

Of course, Colonel Sanders piped in right on time to break Castillo away from his somber thoughts.

"I ask myself that every day, sheriff."

Affording little more than a sinister sideways smile in response, Castillo continued at his uneven pace down the hall without slowing for further pleasantries. He could pick out Rathnam's assertive gait from the other end of the school--and they sure as hell had about as many things of value to say to each other as he did the five other people he ran into today.

He kept going.

[Sharks]

Betty's smile, freshly jovial from sassing Castillo, faltered slightly when she saw the banner. Obviously it was a nice sentiment, but... it reminded her of her nightmare.

Suppressing an involuntary shudder, she turned a practiced grin Mr. Huffington's way as he spoke. Fuckin' cop. Fuckin' southern cop, Christ. For a moment, seeing his expression, she was torn between agreeing that Castillo should definitely have been fired by now and disagreeing with him on principle because ACAB. Cas might be a prick, but at least he's not that breed of prick. Wait, some people think he was a soldier, though, and I'm pretty sure that's supposed to be worse. Is Cas a war criminal...? Betty narrowed her eyes suspiciously at Castillo's fleeing back, then shook her head. If Cas was a vet, fuckin' copper over here would probably be trying to kiss his goddamned feet. ...Alright, that wasn't a mental image I needed, moving on.

Still, it's better if the pigs don't know you despise them, at least if you work in the same building as them, so she threw out a quick "Me, make trouble? I would never," winking and pointing like the charming-ass woman she was. Really, she hadn't even set anything on fire her first year, which was more than she could say about college, so frankly she's doing better than any reasonable person would expect of her.

That was when she noticed the rapidly-approaching Kiron Rantham. Fuck. If there was one thing that could convince Betty that Hell was real, it was the fact that the married co-worker she had a crush on had to be so goddamned touchy-feely. She'd rather die than object to it, of course, but still. God. Thank fucking Nessie that Betty was a pretty decent actress when she had to be. Still, the side-hug stunned her long enough that Naomi took the conversation's initiative. Prooobably for the best, if she was honest, even if the art teacher could be... a little awkward, sometimes. That urge Betty felt to make Kiron laugh was not coming from a healthy place.

Naomi asked a question, so answering Kiron right now would feel off; maybe make Naomi feel bad for trying to move the conversation along without giving Betty a chance to respond, even, and nobody wanted that. She would get another chance to say something. Kiron wouldn't just... forget she existed, no matter how often Betty half-heartedly wished she would. So for now, she just smiled from the sidelines, a little bit more genuinely than usual.

[Aquinas]

"Oh I'm sorry Naomi, I'm running on instinct today," Mrs. Rathnam apologized as she stepped back a bit.

She followed Castillo with her eyes as he passed her and shot Betty a brief "what can you do" look.

"And thank you for asking! What is new..." She tapped her foot. "Well, Declan and I have been remodeling, that's been a headache. I'm too picky, but at least I admit it - he pretends he doesn't care but he's just as choosy as I am. What about you three, what have you been up to this summer? I know John and Naomi are practically town natives now, but what about you, Betty - are you settling in?"

As Castillo rounded the corner to the left he could see Coach Bibbs chatting with Mr. Good in the hall. They were certainly a contrast, with Coach in his athletic shorts and tee and Mr. Good in his immaculately pressed slacks and lint-free sweater vest. When Coach saw Castillo he gave a nod and a thin smile but didn't seem eager to engage. No such luck with Mr. Good, who broke out into a sparkling grin upon catching sight of his fellow math teacher. "Hey there Jean-Paul! I feel like I've barely seen you this summer. Still gotta get that coffee I owe you, huh?" He stretched out his hand for a handshake.

[Sharks]

God, fuckin' Declan. Of course he wouldn't admit it, that hypocrite. Really, Kiron deserved so much better... okay, maybe Betty had barely talked to the guy, like, once, and maybe he wasn't as obviously terrible as she was pretending he was, but Kiron was great enough that she deserved better by default, anyway. Which means she deserves better than me, too - hey, who doesn't - so don't you go getting any ideas.

"Oh, you know, I'd like to think I am. I'm doing my best, anyway. It's been a little over a year, now... it still feels a little strange, not living in a city, but the area is actually pretty lively." It was definitely a lot more gay-friendly than most of the small towns she'd been to, at least. Even in a northern state, things tended to be determined more by how rural or urban an area was than anything... but Bridgeport wasn't too far from here, she supposed. And this place had a history.

Still, it was hard to feel "settled" when all she had was an apartment. This wasn't a poor neighborhood, housing wasn't cheap; mortgages were generally cheaper than rent, and more importantly they *ended*, so she'd buy one if she could, but... well. "If" had a tendency to be an important word, in her life.

"I've been spending some time getting to know the community," she said, wording "going clubbing" in as diplomatic a way as possible. Although... "Always good to support the local music scene, and I check out any events going on at the library when I can." Being fair to herself, she'd also done both of those things.

[[VIOLET]]

If Ellis Good's winning smile was the sun, the look on Castillo's tired face upon receiving it was the sum total essence of all the smoldering, gurgling, tar-spewing pits in hell. He felt that way, at least--maybe it was a little bit of an exaggeration, given he wasn't feeling a migraine from how deeply he could be scowling yet.

That said.

Hey, are you going to do anything cool this year?:

Castillo cleared his throat while he turned away to relax his features a little. What exactly were the possible consequences of not shaking Good's spotless hands again... the general 'vibe' of burning malice behind his overbearing radiance made it a little hard to tell. Maybe it was a power move and he wasn't supposed to take it. Honestly, that idea made him feel a little better.

He brought his unoccupied right hand in from the side to meet Good's with a dull clap, not quite turning his face fully towards him, but not quite turning away either. A single bounce was all he felt comfortable with, and provided that Good let go of him easily, he would draw his hand back just a hair slower than "eagerly." He would also notice how crisp the folds on Good's Indochinos were compared to his own aired-out-after-the-dryer-and-it-looked-fine gray business slacks, and subsequently expend a mighty effort not to sneer at the man he was trying to begin making peace with.

"Forget about it," he replied: voice low, but distinctly lacking in coarseness. "The only person you should be picking up coffee for is your wife, Ellis Good. Glad you're as awfully cheerful as ever. The kids will need it."

Hm, maybe a darker comment than he intended. He meant it (albeit reluctantly), for what it was worth; if Good had a problem with that, he and his pressed khakis could deal with it.

Noting Bibbs' more-than-apparent hesitation to make eye contact, Castillo directed him a respectful half-bow of his head in return--mostly because Good had socially roped Castillo into standing still, and if he didn't acknowledge Bibbs in some way now, it'd stick out of the metaphorical olive branch like a severed thumb.

"Just setting up today?" He figured he'd probe around a little while he had the chance. "Hunt's asked for a handful of us to come up to the front office in about..." (his gray eyes flicked towards his watch,) "eight minutes. Wondering if it means we're finally getting a briefing on how the hell we're going to approach this year with last month's news still decorating the hallway..."

Near the end of his sentence, he finally turned towards Good a little more with an inquisitive tilt of his head--a signature expression of genuine interest.

[GM_3826]

Naomi shot a side glance at Castillo before continuing shortly after Betty was finished. "I've been working on a new project." That was true: In addition to the kind of work she kept in a drawer in her bedroom and her teaching plans, she was working on the fundraiser she wanted to present to Principal Wilson. "That said, I'd like to keep it a surprise. Beyond that, life hasn't been very exciting."

Last Saturday:

"There is a bit of a story as to why, exactly. Perhaps we could talk about it later, but it might not be the right time. The four of us have a meeting to get to fairly soon, and I don't want us to get sidetracked."

[Aquinas]

"Oh there's some great music around here. Couple great clubs too, Declan and I loved the nightlife - before we got so old, hahaha!" When Mrs. Rathnam started laughing it was always hard enough that she teared up a bit, so she paused for a moment to wipe them away. "Oh, we go to bed so early now. I'm so glad you're getting settled Betty, that's wonderful.

"And color me intrigued, Naomi! I can't wait to hear all about it. Let's get back to having those lunch meetings, okay? I've missed you, girl. And yes, don't let me keep you, I know VP Hunt was waiting for you, but I just had to say hello! I still get those new year jitters. Keep John out of trouble, hmm?" She gave John a teasing look and waved goodbye as she clicked past them into her classroom.

"Oh sure, just putting the finishing touches on the room, you know how that is," Mr. Good replied, laughing good-naturedly at Castillo's coffee comment. A shadow passed over both men's faces when Castillo mentioned the news. Coach Bibbs muttered "Awful," softly, shuffling his feet. Mr. Good looked like he wanted to say something but couldn't word it in a way that satisfied him. He settled on, "Just such a tragic..." and trailed off. The three men sat for a second in the awkward silence before Mr. Good rallied. "Hunt talked to us about it yesterday, actually. I think she's meeting with small groups. And you know Jean-Paul, I think you're right that we need to keep these kids' spirits up. The most important thing is to give them stability right now, make school into a sanctuary where they can process it, you know? It's times like these I just, I thank God that Darla's around honestly." Coach Bibbs nodded. Mr. Good nodded back, and gave Castillo a smile - there was a bit of gratitude in it. Castillo got the feeling that he may have been expecting a different response to his greeting.

Past him, around the corner, they could hear Hunt talking with Mrs. Smith in the teacher's lounge.

[GM_3826]

Naomi sighed. She knew exactly how Mrs. Rathnam felt, and felt the same way. She was always so kind to her, so she wanted to have a more in-depth chat, but she was always working on her lessons or having meetings with other staff members. Naomi shot a suspicious glance at John, but it was less aggressive and more confused. She wasn't quite sure what Mrs. Rathnam was on about. Was John really such a troublemaker?

[Sharks]

Betty felt like her heart was being pulled through a woodwind instrument of unusual length. God, there it was, that perfect, beautiful laugh. If she could just have that laugh, nestled in her chest, humming in her bones, if she could only be the one brushing away Kiron's tears... she didn't think she could possibly need anything else. "Aw, don't give me that, you're still young!" Your age hasn't stopped me from being a complete idiot over you, at the very least. Not that the, uh, cougar type - that other word feels too rude, even in my head - has exactly been a huge deterrent in the past... "You'll have to give me some recommendations sometime - I'll be sure to catch you later!" There, she hadn't embarrassed herself too badly, probably.

Determined to make it to Mrs. Hunt before Castillo regardless of his head start, she set a brisk pace, stopping only briefly to pin Naomi's poster back up, shooting the woman a quick grin and a wink as she did. She'd been told that particular expression made her seem mischievous, catlike. Then, it was off to the races - thankfully her rival had been caught up in a conversation with Mr. Good, so she still had a shot.

"Ellis, good -" again, a wink "- to see you! Bibbs," because as much as she usually liked to call people by their first names, that name was just too fun not to say, "good luck this year! Up top!" She meant it, too - Bibbs wasn't someone she knew super well, but she did her best to root for everyone in her class, and that generally included at least a few people on his team. She didn't mind watching the sport, either, if she was honest. Last year had been her first year, and it had gotten pretty goddamned hype - she hoped that she wasn't spoiled, now.  She completed her high-five without slowing down (assuming Bibbs reciprocated), then continued on past the corner. When Betty got competitive, she was damned near unstoppable... as long as nobody she had feelings for entered the picture.

[[VIOLET]]

"Sanctuary, huh."

He repeated it with delicate softness--as rare as a dry feather rocking atop rough winter waves. Momentarily, Castillo's gray eyes were drawn towards the shadow cast by the corner opposite to him. A sanctuary. It felt a little bit like that right now, honestly. Rathnam's sunny disposition, Good's fatherly warmth, Bibbs' stern but well-meaning spirit. Even Bright and Naomi, both their juniors by more years than can be counted on two hands, had their own warm spark. Redding was a bit difficult to get a read on, but he was liked well enough: a testament to something done right, he was sure. It was safe here, now that they were back.

Then his gaze reached the three tiles he stood upon.

Darla Novak. The things she's probably heard.

Right as a glazed look began to creep across his face, Betty strode by with the wind at her heels. Not even slowing down for Rathnam this time, was she? Seemed like today was a special day. May as well have come in wearing sweatbands and wires. Or, airpods, whatever they called them these days.

"Business as usual, then," he quickly finished. Flashing a gentle quarter-smile towards the space between Coach Bibbs and Mr. Good, Castillo dipped his head once more to signal his exit and peeled away. "Looks like we're gonna be late."

They really weren't late at all, but when was a delinquent like Bright ever in a hurry to visit the front office? Easy ticket, right there. Even if he just said they had eight minutes. Late for being early, maybe? Whatever.

By the time Castillo caught up to Betty again, he was about back to normal. Thank God. If he had to express any more humility in the next minute, he may as well have just added himself to Barton High's body count on the spot.

"Congratulations, Bright. You're officially faster than a cripple," he muttered, casting a glance over his shoulder in brief search for Naomi and John. "You know we're early, right?"

[Aquinas]

"Actually, I'd say you're right on time."

Vice Principal Hunt's voice was immediately welcoming. It was a little distracting, actually - its smooth, mellow tone made her sound more like a radio DJ than a principal. A very specific type of DJ - the kind that would slip in between dusky jazz tracks, seamlessly introducing the listener to the next song while keeping the calm vibes going. Her dress sense was professional and a bit cold - a black turtleneck with a white jacket over black slacks and heels. Her straight brown hair was pulled into a perfect tight ponytail, not a strand out of place. It was like an optical illusion.

Hunt thanked Mrs. Smith - who only looked up long enough to nod with disinterest at the gaggle of teachers - and offered each teacher a handshake (she had surprisingly calloused hands) before she beckoned for the teachers to follow her across the lounge and into the conference room.

Barton's teachers lounge wasn't the jewel of the school. It hadn't received any serious renovations in a long time, longer than any of the teachers in the room had been there - only Mrs. Smith remembered the green shag carpets, now replaced by unobtrusive tile. The room was blandly functional - enough tables and chairs that there was always plenty of space, and a fridge and pantry well-stocked with snacks and coffee fixings courtesy of Mrs. Smith, but little else for creature comforts. It could never be accused of being cozy, but it was reliably quiet during school hours - a good place to do some grading during a free period.

The conference room wasn't too different - it looked more or less like two classrooms stapled together with all the desks Voltron'd into one big table in the middle - but it had one claim to (faculty) fame. The floor-to-ceiling windows along one side offered a tantalizing peek at Syme Park's waterfalls. The tourist attractions which earned the town both its name and a modest flow of revenue were close enough to the school that their tops could be glimpsed above the tree line out the windows, a fact which had gone unrealized until someone graffiti'd "HUFFINGTON HUFFS DICKS" on the wall outside, prompting the installation of the windows.

The vice principal took a seat on a chair on the left, her back to the window - she gestured for them to make themselves comfortable on the other side. Mr. Good was right - it seemed she'd been meeting with several groups before her, as she already had an assortment of papers lined out around her - a stack on her left bore the signatures of other teachers.

"It looks like we're still waiting on one person," Hunt began once everyone had been situated. "We'll wait for a few more minutes." She smiled. "I'm Reagan. Feel free to call me that, I've been answering to that longer than I've been answering to Vice Principal." She smiled again, serenely. "While we're waiting, can I ask you all to do something for me? Can you all tell me a little about why you're here at Barton? I never really feel like I get anything out of reading this paperwork." She leaned back in her chair, honey-colored eyes rolling back and forth between them. "This isn't an interview or anything, if you don't want to answer that's okay too, I'm just new here and I don't really know anyone yet. This has been good for me."

[[VIOLET]]

"I really don't want to talk about this."

Castillo's disinterest--no, his avoidance--was palpable. Maybe if he had a clear path from his car to the front office and didn't run into the resident saints of Barton High before getting here, he wouldn't be so disconcerted; though it was a little useless now to start thinking about that. Why are you here? Who let you in? Damn it. Damn it. You didn't have to come, so why did you? Damn it. Nobody needs you, so why are you here anyway? Good question. Good fucking fuck fuck fucking fuck question. "Maybe I'll go push some daisies out of a ditch and spare you the details." Why did you bother getting out of bed? "I heard a young lady disappeared on our campus and never heard any thoughts from our faculty about it, and hoped I'd hear it before I died of old age." Fucker. Get to the point.

a game of catch:

Of course, that was a stupid thing to say. "Yeah, I'm really just here for my nephew that I haven't had a meaningful conversation with in five years. The other struggling children can flail in the foamy brine like blind, finless dolphins, for all I care. By the way, fire me! With the gun in the security room, preferably. You can even dump my still-bleeding corpse in the construction site and chant a dark incantation to exchange it for Mikayla Li. Hell, maybe that new Nicus guy can help. He seems nice enough."

His spirits suddenly a little too dampened to muster a scowl, Castillo cast an impatient glance out the window from his seat on the corner of the desk-matrix, fingers idly rocking his cane back and forth. Damn it. This fifth person couldn't come any sooner.

Not like it mattered what he came here for.  All summer, he'd been getting the dreadful feeling in the pit of his stomach that it was all about to come crashing down any minute. Then what..?

Then... he...

He squeezed his eyes shut.

Frowning deeply, he shot a narrow glance down the table to see if anyone else was going to open their mouth. God forbid he need to be the one to speak first. Something like, "eh, my knee and femur got crushed between some fucking pipes in my last job and this was the only other meaningful career I could pursue with my math degree." Yeah, he'd be better off keeping his mouth shut. Maybe the conversation would move on gracefully. Betty probably had some good Samaritan narrative up her sleeve, right? Possibly even a genuine one--but he wasn't going to hold his breath (if she wasn't some desperate college graduate who was leaning on teaching until she paid off her debts and spontaneously lept into prestige, he'd eat his shoe). If she or any of the other three caught his gaze, he'd arch an eyebrow.

"Well? What's your story, kid?"

[GM_3826]

"Um." Naomi sweated a little. "Give me a moment to think." She really did need one. Speaking to strangers was difficult enough, answering questions you don't have a good answer to to them is another entirely. She wasn't passionate about the job so much as the idea of having a job, but that was like the worst thing you could say. Where would she even start with that response?

"Well, art is something I've always been passionate about. I got my degree in college, and teaching is something I always felt I'd enjoy doing." Alright, but then how do you bring up the part about wanting to get away from your family? They are rich, after all, so that's a bit difficult to communicate. "I felt that it would be a very enriching experience." That's probably enough for now. Naomi wasn't quite aware of the signals she was giving off, so she didn't know how Vice Principal Hunt would respond. Hopefully she wouldn't poke the sleeping bear. She doesn't need to explain that she's mentally disabled and part of a rich family, right? If someone asks, she generally just deflects it, but she can't do that with her new supervisor.

[Sharks]

Oh, fuck, words. She'd really like to have a better read on this woman - it seemed like she was pretty casual, but was she "swearing around coworkers is acceptable" levels of casual? Probably better not to risk it. And who are we waiting on, anyway...?

Luckily, Naomi went first - thanks for breaking the ice, girl - so she didn't have to. Her story was... normal. Felt like there were things left unsaid, but hell, not like Betty was planning on telling the whole truth and nothing but the truth. In any case, when she'd glanced around before Naomi spoke, Castillo's raised eyebrow had instilled in her a deeply set need to show him up. I'll show you, motherfucker, I am totally respectable, they should turn my life into a goddamned hallmark movie for how fucking inspirational I am. I'll just... leave out the messy parts.

But how to start things out? I was kind of a shit student, maybe? People who aren't legally allowed to leave me for four years, give or take, are great at filling the void in my heart without freaking me out too badly? No, no, of course - Well, you see, what the fuck else are you supposed to do with an English degree? Also there are some nice clubs in this town. Have I mentioned the alcoholism?

...Alright, this was unproductive. "...I really wasn't a great student in high school." There - now that she had the ball rolling, she could probably figure this out on the fly - that's what she specialized in, really. "Kind of, uh, a latchkey kid, y'know, didn't care about a whole lot - you know the type, probably." She had cared, of course - cared too much, maybe. Just not about the things high school students are supposed to. But she didn't want to get into that, not really.  Her hands began to idly fiddle with her bun, and the look on her face, now, was one of vague introspection - as if gazing into some distant past...

delinquents (cw drugs, alcohol, violence):

"It was one of my teachers who pulled me out of that funk... so I thought, y'know, you're supposed to... pass that sort of thing on, right? I decided I wanted to be that kind of person, someone in a position to reach out to kids who could maybe use a little help... learning to be their best selves, someone who wouldn't ignore anyone who's struggling." If that last bit was a little pointed, a little I'm-not-talking-about-Castillo-except-I-totally-am, well, fucking deal with it, boat-boy.

But honestly, even if she was sugarcoating things significantly, all this was still a little too personal for comfort. Time to change tracks. "As for why here, specifically, I visited a few times while I was in college; had a couple friends from down here, but they live in New Mexico now, I think. It's a really nice town, honestly." And if she had complicated feelings about that, having come from a city that was considerably less wealthy on average than Twin Falls... well, who wouldn't.

Good enough. Beat that, Cas, you grumpy old bitch.

[Sock]

“Why am I here? That’s a helluva question, Mrs. Hunt.” Sure sounds like an interview question, too…

John scratched the back of his head in thought, trying to come up with some reasonable, professional-sounding BS. “Well, as you know, I just got out of Meadows back in…a few years ago now, huh? Uhhh, anyway, I’ve signed on here because I want to pass on my science and engineering knowledge to the kiddos. Since they’re the future, and all.”

He snuck a glance at the door, full of hope that the fifth person would rescue them from this awkward situation, then transitioned looking back at the Vice Principal into a gesture at the window. “And I stayed here cuz this is such a beautiful town, ya know?”

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