I feel stupid for triple-posting in this thread, but here, moar story. TA-DAAA!
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Jacket haphazardly zippered, scarf thrown about the neck, and gloves upon the fingers – not to mention actual clothes on – Clay found himself trudging down the sidewalk, Liz right at his side, skipping about. Joel was on her other side, hands in his pocket, the leash to the dog looped around his wrist. The three walked in silence, the plodding of their shoes (or in Liz’s case, her boots) the only noises in the neighborhood. There was the occasional dog bark or the revving of an engine, but otherwise, it was a crisp silence; serene in the morning sun.
Finally, Joel spoke, though his voice was distant. “So…what’s up with you Forrester?”
Clay pushed his slipping glasses up his nosebridge. “Why the question, Robinson?”
“Been irking my brain, that’s what. Man…it’s…” He sighed, the wisps of steam rising from his mouth. “My mom. Just…”
“I won’t deny this is incredibly out of my element,” Clay said, peeling the gloves off his fingers as his hands realized it was warmer than originally thought. “Although…”
“Although…?”
“…Robinson, how…how good of friends are you with Nelson and Frank?”
Joel shrugged. “Not very. Frank is just Frank…I’ve had a few classes with Nelson before, worked together in groups and stuff, but it’s not like I hang out with him. …Care to tell me why you wanna know?”
The scientist shrugged. “Dunno. Just feels like…I’m out of the loop.”
Joel snorted. “Me and Frank and Nelson get along because we’re people of normal social abilities.”
“…Uh-huh.”
“That’s really all it is. You’re just an idiot.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said what I said…”
Clay huffed, shoving his hands in his coat pockets. “Whatever you say, Robinson…”
The inventor rolled his eyes. “You don’t make it easy, y’know. People behave the way they do for a reason. We respond to how you act ‘cause the way you act deserves our responses.”
“The
fack did you just say?”
“Waxing poetic.” Joel paused before stealing a glance at his little sister. “Though…Liz seems to like you…Poor child, she’s been a bit messed up ever since Dad dropped her from the washing machine.”
Liz, hearing her name, perked to attention and jogged in front of the two, skipping backwards to keep pace. “What what what? What about me?”
As blunt as blunt could be, Joel replied, “You and your little crush on Dr. F here.”
Liz, most likely holding no knowledge of the word other than ‘to smash something’, just sorta shrugged. “I like Clay! He’s nice!”
“Proof that she’s not my sister,” Joel murmured (though that was his typical speech pattern by this point). “C’mon sis, really? He’s a big meanie.”
“Is nooooot!” Liz opposed, jumping up and down while continuing to keep pace. “He was never mean to me!”
“Yeah see, I
am a nice person,” Clay said with a smirk, patting Liz on the shoulder and looking at Joel. “Joel’s the mean one, isn’t that right?”
“That’s right!”
“Oh come on, don’t turn my own sister against me,” Joel protested, though he didn’t put too much effort into it. “
That’s mean.”
“We respond to how you act ‘cause the way you act deserves our responses.”
“…You like stealing my lines, don’t you?”
“It works and gives me dialogue.”
Liz suddenly stopped moving, directly placing herself in front of Clay’s path. He jerked to a halt and looked down at her curiously. “Something up, smallest-of-the-Robinsons?”
She threw her arms into the air. “Can I ride on your shoulders?”
“Liz!” Joel scolded, as if it was an automatic response. “Don’t – it’s –”
“But he’s really tall!”
“Not a lot more than
me…”
“I’m six-one, I’d say that’s pretty tall…”
“I’m five-ten. The difference is just three inches, which could just as well be your hair.” The inventor had a good point, as Clay’s hair (the parts not confined in a ponytail) flew every which way, sticking straight out from his skull.
“Except not, since you obviously have to look
up to be eye-to-eye,” Clay said with an involuntary smirk. He proceeded to stoop down onto his knees, jerking a thumb to his shoulders. “All aboard.”
“Yay!” Liz kicked the excess snow from her boots before hopping onto his back and scrambling up to his shoulders, the scientist helping her along. When he stood up, she gasped before giggling. “This is way higher up than Joel ever got me!”
“Hey…”
“No denying truth, Robinson.”
“…Shut up Forrester.”
Gypsy barked suddenly and, much to the surprise of the trio, she was barking at them. Joel tugged on the leash before starting up again, leaving Clay to jog to catch up (and balance Liz on his shoulders, who was grinning ear to ear in delight).
“Faster faster faster!” she urged, hands clamping tight on his flyaway hair. He winced as she pulled on his hair upon being thrown back a few inches. “It really is white!” she squeaked, lifting up the segment of strands that held the permanently dyed hair.
“Told ya I wasn’t lying,” Clay replied, staring up. “Don’t see why you didn’t believe me.”
“
I did, it’s
Joel that didn’t.”
“Hey, c’mon, what the heck Liz…” Joel paused before a thought came crashing straight into his brain. “Oh, Forrester, that reminds me…”
Clay sighed, grumbling as his glasses’ lens fogged up. “What is it now, Robin-sinion?”
Joel looked at him oddly before continuing. “Has to do with our punishment for causing blood and mayhem. Uh, well, Madam Principal has decided that, as payment, me, you, Frank, and Nelson have to help out the theater department because the tech crew is small this year. Not a big deal for
me, you see, but…”
“…Oh come
on, I am
not a techie. Mother has another thing coming if –”
“She says if we refuse, we won’t graduate.”
“…Eff.”
“Yeaaah…Uh, trust me, I’m pretty sure we’ve got more threats such as that coming our way. Gotta say…the ‘you won’t graduate’ threat is a very effective tool when you’re a senior…”
A thought suddenly barreled into Clay’s mind. “…Hey…do you know what they’re doing with Nelson?”
“Whattya mean…?”
“He’s a jock, isn’t he? Basketball star? He’s the center for the varsity team, being a big and tall lumbering dope and all.”
“Huh…didn’t think about it. But…I can’t think the outlook is good for him. Y’know that jocks tend to be people with not the best records…What we did was worthy of suspension.”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure our clean records was what made it so that Mother didn’t can our sorry asses –”
“Oi, language; eight-year-old on your shoulders.”
“…Oh. Right.” But Liz was so off and enamored in her own world that she seemed to pay little attention to what was going on beneath her.
“But yeah…I don’t think the same can apply to the sports teams. They have to keep up regulation and all…so I’m pretty sure Nelson is screwed.”
“What was that about language?”
Joel ignored him. “Though really, think about it…he got the injuries the worst of all of us. He’s in no fit to play anyway. I’m thinking the only reason he can do piano is ‘cause it doesn’t involve the risk of getting thrown to the ground and stuff.”
“Mmm…Guess so.”
The trio soon came upon the Robinson household, causing Gypsy to began tugging at the end of her extended leash. Joel sighed and looked up at Liz. “Well, we’re back. Get off Clay’s shoulders, would ya?”
“You are a meanie!” Liz swung her head down, staring upside-down at Clay. “Clay, can you be my new big brother? You won’t be mean to me, will you?”
“Nah…but…I don’t think I’m fit to be a big brother.” Clay grabbed her waist and pulled her off, swinging her around a bit before placing her on the ground. “So as mean as he is, Robi – Joel is your brother…sorry.”
“Aww…”
Clay gave her a smile (an emotion he didn’t make that often) before looking up at Joel. “See you on Monday, I suppose.”
“Yeap…backstage hallway, in the Dungeon if you don’t mind.”
“Who the what now?”
“Oh, right, you never took any theater stuff…the Dungeon is Struyk’s – you know, the tech director as well as the band one? – well, it’s his nickname for that random classroom behind the stage. Full of power tools as well as ceiling pipes with a garage door for an entrance, so it’s appropriate.”
“Right…”
“And you know what’ll happen if you don’t show up.”
“Yeah, I’ll be stuck with the juniors.”
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Monday afternoon came, and, although against his free will, Clay found himself standing outside the band room doors again. Once the wave of students had passed, he maneuvered his way inside, finding Nelson talking to the short-haired girl again, but who this time was accompanied by a tall and lanky boy with somewhat long brown hair. He stood a good two inches above the blonde and seemed to be trying to coax him into something.
“Come
on, just give me a ride to pep band and…I’ll…”
“You won’t
buy me anything, I know that.”
“Yeah, he’s a hobo…”
“Shut up Iris.” (The look on her face meant that the girl’s name was, in fact, not Iris.) “Anyway, just – give me a ride, c’mon! It’s not like I’m far out from you.”
“But it’s a pain…”
“How?!”
“’cause it’s
you…”
“I said shut
up, Iris.”
“If I may intrude,” Clay said in a bit louder tone, catching the trio’s attention. “Nelson, we have to get going.”
“Forrester? What –”
“Dr. F’s here again,” the short-haired girl piped in. “What’s up, man-about science? You getting jealous of the band?”
“Not quite. Though I have a question…uh, what’s with the Christmas lights?”
“They add festivity. And hey, it’s January, not too far off from the season.”
“Right…okay, well, let’s go.”
“Eh…I guess…Uh, Aaron – pep band, get back to me on that and try and come up with a better offer than your Kenny G. collection, okay?”
“I don’t HAVE a Kenny G. collection, what the hell!”
Clay and Mike left, backpacks swung over shoulder, before heading down a hallway and preceeding down the staircase next to the gym. After a moment’s silence, Mike turned to Clay and looked at him oddly.
“Okay, the hell’s going on? Why’d you find me?”
“I have a question that I wanted to ask you before meeting up with the two idiots.”
“Uh…well, that’s a bit out of the ordinary, gotta say. What is it?”
“You and the basketball team.” Mike’s face immediately faltered. “Yeah…what’s the deal with that? I mean – you’re injured, yeah, but…”
The blonde averted his gaze. “I avoided school suspension, yeah, but…as per regulation, I was kicked off the team…”
“Permanently?”
“Pretty…pretty much.” He sighed. “I can’t believe I actually did it…doing so well and then I screw up. Dad was…Dad was – he wasn’t mad, he was disappointed. That’s it. And Mom was just kinda…upset at me for ruining everything.”
“Gotta admit Nelson, I didn’t know you had it in you to kill people.”
“I do, I just don’t exact it on people. Y’know, it’s a good thing I live on a farm. Plenty of things to exact violence on out there.”
“Yeah…you’ve…got quite the tackle blow.”
“Hey, c’mon, you? Scrawny scientist? What the hell was the punch about, huh? That was way too epic for somebody like you.”
“I call him Mr. Fisty, and be careful Nelson. Looks can be deceiving.”
“Uh…huh.” Through a set of double-doors they went, finding Joel and Frank hanging by the entrance to the backstage hallway, apparently having an argument over what type of fish was better to eat with Coke.
“Um, if I’m not interrupting –”
“You are, but yeah, I know. Frank, salmon is the best, and get any other silly notion out of your head. Okay noobs of tech, you are about to enter a strange and magical world of table saws, light grids, and sound boards. You are to touch neither of the last two.” He led them into the hallway, pointing at a room at the end and to the right. “That is the Dungeon, where all the tools are.” With a shift to the right, he added, “That’s the garage door entrance to the stage. It’s usually open…but yeah, its main purpose is to get the big stuff on there. And now…the auditorium itself.”
Joel snickered as he led the trio into the backstage area of the auditorium. Frank was shooting his gaze about wildly, Mike seemed rather nonchalant, and Clay was simply clenching his jaw and holding firm.
“This is the domain of tech,” the inventor said with an ineffectual flourish of his hand. “But they should –”
Light suddenly flooded the stage upon which they stood, blinding Clay momentarily and sending him stumbling backwards a few steps. There came a pair of laughs, one with a ‘caw’ quality to it, the other more of jovial type.
“Guys, stop being dumbasses,” Joel called out flatly. He turned to the trio. “Crow and Tom…”
Mike blinked. “…Crow? Someone seriously named their kid
Crow?”
“No, it’s a nickname. His name is like…uh…it’s really long. Named after his regular and great grandfathers, has the middle name of his father, and then an unfortunate last name that could be a name.”
“...Which
is?” Clay asked impatiently.
“Carl-Ryan-Oliver-William Theodore Roberts,” came a distinctly female, yet somewhat low-pitched, voice. “Anagrammed to C-R-O-W – Crow T. Roberts.”
“Gyps!” a male voice, a touch nasally, whined. The female giggled.
“Where the hell are they?” Clay grumbled, looking up at the ceiling. The lights, blinding his vision, made it difficult to see past the front of the stage.
“Catwalk, most likely,” Mike replied. He paused before another question popped out. “Wait, did he say Gyps? Who names –”
“Tech crew is a treasure trove of nicknames. That’s Rose…Rose Meyer, aka, Gypsy.” After a pause, Joel added, “We got our dog from her family and my sister named it after her for…uh…I’m not really sure but –”
“I came
before the dog!” Gypsy shouted. “I want to make that clear!”
“I’d hope so, she’s only like, four. It’d be like that one movie…uh…”
“Be some serious ‘Benjamin Button’ kinda stuff,” Frank said. “…Uh, kinda.” He paused. “I’m just…not going to talk now.”
“Okay…Okay, well, you guys know the drill.” Joel cupped his hands around his mouth. “ROLL CALL!”
“Cambot!”
“Gypsy!”
“Tom Servo!”
“CrooooOOOw!”
Mike just stared. “Cambot? Servo? Robinson, what the hell is with all these –”
“Cambot, aka, Cameron Botsley,” Joel replied flatly, using his fingers as a checklist. “Runs the soundboard and does whatever video work is needed. Tom’s last name is Serko. He does a lot of building and is good with machinery. Servo kinda just came from that.” He paused. “I’m…I’m just Joel, by the way.”
“Good to know.”
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And if you care to know, the story can be found
over at FF.net.
;
