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Post by Vanja on Oct 21, 2008 9:41:22 GMT -5
eugh i hate ernest, can you do like he's punches a kid and is fired from the school ?
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Post by melon head. on Oct 21, 2008 22:04:38 GMT -5
[Hehheh... we'll see...]
"For Christ's sake, Ernest," Dewey roared, grabbing his brother by the arm and pulling him away from the slightly hysterical Jerome. He shoved Ernest a few feet away from the table and swore loudly at him.
"Ooh, touchy, touchy," Ernest giggled. Esme and Kit exchanged glances- they could here his voice break a little as he tormented his brother.
The cafeteria was quiet again. Beatrice's eyes shot over to the corner, where Frank was sitting behind a pile of books. Geraldine's microphone was finally working and Beatrice saw the tape rolling. Geraldine would hand this recording over to the teacher in a second flat if Beatrice didn't stop her...
Jerome rolled up his sleeves and stepped forward. He glanced at Esme, who looked shocked, and slunk back a few feet.
"It's okay, I've got him," Dewey assured. He turned to Ernest. "Look, Ernie," he said angrily. "You have some serious issues accepting this fact, so I'm going to put it right out in the open: No one likes you. Not anyone in this school and none of the teachers. Heck, your own parents didn't like you. And your brothers- well, as for me, I loathe you more than anything else in the world."
There was silence, broken by Frank saying, "I don't like you either, brother."
Dewey rolled his eyes and nodded. "So there you have it." He folded his arms, pleased with himself.
Beatrice, meanwhile, was desperately trying to catch his eye. She clattered her fork loudly. Jerome's head turned to face her, but Dewey continued to stare at Ernest with contempt.
Beatrice mouthed something to Jerome. Jerome nodded numbly, and whispered in Dewey's ear what Beatrice had said. Dewey looked over at Geraldine's microphone, which was pointed directly at them.
"So, anyway..." he looked at Kit with wide eyes, but she shrugged nervously. "Umm... we're cool, right? You know I was just messing with you."
Ernest scowled. "Yeah... no. You might think we're cool, but I beg to differ. In fact, we're so not cool it's not funny. You," he said, rounding on Kit. "What doctor do you see? What doctor is so stupid that they thought that your little nervous breakdowns were because of stress? It seems to me that they would most likely be caused by the vitamins you've been taking for the last month."
"What are you talking about?" Kit asked. "Those vitamins are side-effect free. I- how do you even know about them?"
"Because I'm the one whose been emptying the bottle and filling it with anti-depressants manufactured for 60-80 year olds." He grinned wickedly. "No wonder you stayed so optimistic while you're bran was dying."
Esme threw up under the table. Jerome ran over to her. Beatrice fainted into Bertrand's arms, and Lemony and Jacques both grabbed Ernest from behind.
"What're you gonna do to me?" Ernest cried, bordering on maniacal. "Tattle?"
"Nope," Jacques said. "Just ask my girlfriend for a favor."
"What is it, Jacky?" Geraldine asked, standing up.
"Give that tape to the principal, would you?"
Geraldine nodded brightly. "Wait til the readers of the Prufrock Prep Paper hear that!"
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Oct 22, 2008 13:37:06 GMT -5
Once Geraldine had vanished through the doors of the cafeteria, Ernest turned an accusing eye on Jacques. “That was pretty stupid of you, Snicket,” Ernest sneered. “You just wait. I’ll get you for this, so you had better watch your back.” He took another moment to gaze heatedly at the faces staring back at him. Holding up a finger, he said, “And that goes for the rest of you, too.”
He skulked off after that, disappearing through the doors.
While Lemony and Jacques ran over to Beatrice and Bertrand, Kit and Dewey dashed over to Jerome and Esmé.
Lemony helped Bertrand slide Beatrice back into her chair. Reaching into his pocket, Lemony produced a small glass bottle of smelling salts. Twisting off the lid, he held the bottle underneath Beatrice nose. She coughed, and her eyes opened slowly.
“What happened?” she asked, looking around at the three boys surrounding her.
“You fainted,” Bertrand explained. “No thanks to Ernest.”
“I remember now!” Beatrice cried. “He sabotaged Kit’s—” Beatrice went to stand, only to be seized by another feeling of dizziness. She collapsed back into her chair, holding her head in her hands. “How could he?!”
Lemony explained about what Jacques had done, and Beatrice threw her arms around him. Lemony looked a little hurt, but didn’t say anything. He could tell by both the look on Beatrice’s face and her reaction that the only thing being expressed was her everlasting gratitude.
“You don’t think he’ll try anything?” Beatrice asked.
“He’ll be expelled before he has the chance,” Bertrand said. “What he did to Kit is grounds for permanent departure from Prufrock Prep.”
Beatrice grinned. “I dare you to say that three times fast.”
Esmé, meanwhile, was too busy sobbing underneath the table to hear the good news.
“It’s alright,” Jerome said, rubbing his girlfriend’s back soothingly. “I threw up once in the fourth grade during a test. The next day, nobody even remembered it.” That last part wasn’t true at all, but he saw no point in adding the part about how the kids had all called him ‘Upchuck Squalor’ for the rest of the year.
“It isn’t that,” Esmé replied tearfully. “I mean I… I always knew Ernest was a creep, but I never imagined that he could be so outright cruel.”
Kit squatted down beside Esmé, and Jerome moved aside so that she could receive a hug from her friend. Kit explained that since Ernest had admitted to having been the cause of all her trouble, then there was no way he would be staying at Prufrock Prep now.
“But he could’ve really hurt you,” Esmé bawled. “What if something dreadful had happened? What then?”
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Post by melon head. on Oct 25, 2008 22:17:42 GMT -5
"Esme," Kit soothed. "The point is, nothing did happen. I'm fine. I stopped taking them about a week ago anyway."
"Why?" Lemony asked, taken aback. Beatrice, Jerome and Bertrand all leaned forward to hear her.
"I ran out," Kit answered. She carefully avoided eye contact with her friend or her brother.
"What?" The surprised shrieks were so numerous that Kit couldn't tell whose mouths they were coming from. However, Dewey reacted first.
"You downed a whole bottle of anti-depressants? I will kill that bastard, and then scrape off all his skin and leave it out in the sun and then sell it as dry mango and laugh at whoever ends up eating it!"
Kit giggled.
"This is serious!" Lemony said. "You could've died!"
"I didn't!" Kit yelled, standing up. "I didn't die, and I'm fine! Why are we all freaking out about it? Let's focus on the positive- Ernest'll probably be expelled! That's good, right?"
"Yeah," Jacques said, pulling Kit out of the middle of everything. He gave the group a sincere look. "Yes, it is. We're glad you're okay. We didn't mean to be so patronizing."
Kit smiled coyly. "That's okay," she muttered. She felt suddenly content, and looked up at her friends, who all cared about her so much. No one said anything- they were just happy she was okay.
"I can't believe this!"
"They knew for three days and they didn't say anything?"
"The timing's terrible, that's for sure."
"Hell yeah. I'm starting to feel a bit on the remorseful side now."
"I can't believe they're making us do all the dirty work."
Ernest and Geraldine entered the hall. They waved at everyone distractedly and turned to Kit.
"See?" Dewey whispered. "They'd make a great couple."
"You tell her," Ernest hissed.
"No way," Geraldine shot back.
"I got expelled," Ernest said, and Dewey detected a hint of pride in his voice. Pride, he realized, mingled with relief.
"And when we were leaving we heard the principal discussing something on the phone," Geraldine said. "Kit, you know how your mum hates you and you're constantly trying to get her approval?"
Kit stared at Geraldine in shock. "How much does your microphone pick up?"
"Well, you'll never have to worry again. Lemony, Jacques- she's dead."
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Oct 26, 2008 13:19:34 GMT -5
A terrible silence followed, broken only by Bertrand’s footsteps as he came forward. “You’ve done some very nasty things in the past, Ernest,” he said, pointing an accusing finger at the triplet. “And if it turns out that either of you are lying—”
“I can vouch,” Geraldine said, and set her tape recorder down on the table. Pressing the ‘play’ button, the voice of the principal sounded through the speakers.
“’Dead? The Snickets? But how could this have— a fire. I see. Yes, their three children are students at this school. Well, their tuition is fully paid for until the end of the year, so they can stay until then. But after that, it is essential for them to be placed in the care of a suitable guardian.’”
Geraldine pressed the ‘stop’ button, and then looked around at all of the shocked faces. “You hear that?” she asked.
“Of course we heard it, Geraldine!” Beatrice snapped. “And, thanks to you, so did everyone else in the cafeteria, probably.”
“How can we be so sure this isn’t some kind of sick joke?” Bertrand asked. “How do we know what we heard is nothing more than a demented fabrication concocted by the two of you?”
“That sounded like the voice of the principal to you, didn’t it?” Geraldine asked, and even Bertrand had to admit that it had.
“What are you going to do next year, Eggs?” Ernest asked, turning his cruel eyes on Esmé. “You won’t have Kit around to protect you anymore.”
“Shut up!” Esmé screamed, and lunged at the triplet. She made an attempt to strike him, but he caught her wrist and shoved her back. She would have fallen had Jerome not caught her. Glaring hatefully at Ernest, Jerome wrapped his arms around her as she buried her face in his chest and began to cry.
“You’re a monster, Ernest,” Beatrice said, and stepped forward. She turned her attention to Geraldine. “And you, Geraldine, are no better.”
All three Snicket siblings could already feel themselves on the verge of tears. But they were doing their best to keep it together, just in case the fates of their parents turned out to be (as Bertrand had pointed out) “nothing more than a demented fabrication”.
Lemony suggested that the three of them go to the principal’s office immediately to find out the details, to which his siblings readily agreed.
“Good luck,” Beatrice said. She hugged all three of them tightly (particularly Lemony), and then walked them to the door. Esmé was still sobbing in Jerome’s arms, and hadn’t realized that Kit and her brothers had left.
“Well, our work here is done,” Ernest said. “Wouldn’t you say so, Geraldine?”
Geraldine nodded, and together she and Ernest headed off in the direction of another table.
Beatrice returned a minute later to find Jerome still holding Esmé, while Dewey and Bertrand sat at the table with their heads down.
“We just have to hope for the best,” Beatrice said, not sure if she believed her own words as she slid into a seat beside Bertrand.
Dewey said that if it turned out that Ernest and Geraldine had lied, then there would be Hell to pay.
Esmé soon recovered enough to sit down. “Where are Kit and the others?” she asked.
“They went to the principal’s office,” Beatrice said.
“Do you think it’s really true? Are their parents—”
“I don’t know. Right now, all we can do is wait until they come back.”
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Post by Vanja on Oct 26, 2008 14:39:41 GMT -5
love love love on the story <3
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Post by melon head. on Nov 1, 2008 2:16:21 GMT -5
"I.. er..." Kit found her voice was surprisingly hoarse. She cleared her throat and tried again. "I find it kind of... unlikely that... they wouldn't lie about something like this... would they?"
She looked up at Lemony pleadingly.
"Don't you worry," her brother comforted, taking her in his arms and kissing her head. "This is going to be okay."
But Kits hook her head. "They've been with V.F.D. for so long now, how do we know? I mean, a fire? Isn't it al little strange that Geraldine and Ernest just happened to pick a fire as the cause of death?"
"But this is Geraldine and Ernest we're talking about!" Jacques pointed out. "They play some sick pranks. Besides, fires are pretty common these days."
They'd arrived at the principal's office. Jacques took a deep breath and knocked on the door.
"Enter."
The Snicket siblings gingerly stepped through the doorway. Inside was the principal of Prufrock Prep, sitting at a tiny, wooden, rectangular desk. He was hunched over a series of documents, each stamped with a little V.F.D. symbol at the bottom.
"Ah! Jacques Snicket! And Kit! And Citrus!"
In the fifth grade, Bertrand had told the principal that Lemony's name was Citrus. Even after all these years, the principal had failed to recognize the fabrication of his words.
"You're just the children I wanted to see. I have some... rather... unfortunate news for you, I'm afraid."
Lemony felt Kit's nails dig into his hands. He looked at his sister, and saw not worry, or grief, but anxiety.
"I'm not sure how to say this..."
Jacques hung his head.
"Your parents have perished in a fire that destroyed your entire home."
Jacques nodded numbly. "May be we dismissed?" he croaked. "I mean..."
"Yes, you may. I'm so sorry."
Jacques continued to nod until they were outside.
"I don't believe it," he whispered. "They're- how-"
Lemony shook his head, the tears seeping out of his eyes. He collapsed to the ground, moaning.
"There, there," Kit murmured, coming down next to him. "It'll be okay. I've got you."
Comforting though she was, Lemony could not understand as to how Kit was remaining so collected.
Jacques sat down on Kit's other side. "This is..."
Kit held both of her brothers- Jacques, still staring at the ground in shock, and Lemony, crying out every last tear he had- on the ash-felt. The three siblings- now orphans- were together, but they'd never felt more alone.
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Post by Vanja on Nov 1, 2008 11:43:11 GMT -5
citrus haha ;D
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Nov 2, 2008 15:44:51 GMT -5
[The "Citrus" line made me laugh, too. ;D]
Dewey and Beatrice were standing at the front doors of the cafeteria, waiting for their friends to return.
“They’ve been gone an awfully long time,” Beatrice commented. “The bell is set to ring in” —she pulled back the sleeve of his blazer to check her watch —“ten minutes from now.”
Dewey craned his neck in the direction that Kit, Lemony, and Jacques had been heading in when they left the cafeteria nearly half an hour ago. Judging by the length of their absence, Dewey knew in his heart that the news that his girlfriend and her siblings had received could not have been good. He turned worriedly to Beatrice just as Esmé raced up behind them.
“Any sign of them yet?”
Beatrice shook her head. “Not yet,” she said.
Esmé nodded. “I hope everything’s alright,” she said.
Beatrice and Dewey shared a doubtful look.
“Hey, look there! Is that them?”
Esmé pointed over Dewey’s shoulder, and he and Beatrice turned their heads. Sure enough, there were the three Snicket siblings walking slowly towards them. The heads of Lemony and Jacques were hung low, while Kit walked between the two, her head held as high as it was when they had left.
“What happened?” Beatrice asked as soon as the siblings were close enough to hear her.
Lemony sobbed loudly, and she ran forward to embrace him. Jacques stood completely still and said nothing, but it didn’t stop Esmé from walking over and putting a comforting arm around him.
“Kit?” Beatrice said.
Kit explained in a surprisingly calm tone what the principal had told her and her brothers. Although it was without a doubt a sad occasion, it wasn’t surprising that Kit’s eyes were free of tears. As long as Dewey, Beatrice, and Esmé had known her, Kit had always shown great strength when faced with a particularly difficult situation.
“That’s terrible,” Beatrice gasped as she let her boyfriend sob into her shoulder. “Lemony, Kit, Jacques— we’re so sorry.”
“What’s happening?”
Everyone— excluding Lemony and Jacques, who were too busy crying and staring down at the floor —looked up to see that Jerome and Bertrand had wandered over.
“Something tells me,” Jerome said, “that the news was bad.”
Esmé nodded to him from where she was squatting on the floor beside Jacques, her hand gently rubbing his back.
“What are you all going to do now?” Bertrand asked. “Who are you going to live with?”
Kit shrugged, and explained that they would see about such things after the funeral. Esmé patted Jacques on the shoulder and then stood up. She walked over to Kit and gave her a hug. Esmé’s gesture was followed shortly by Beatrice and Lemony. Jerome and Bertrand went over to Jacques and knelt down on either side of him, rubbing his shoulders. They were unsuccessful in getting him to say a word.
“He must be in shock,” Bertrand said, and Jerome nodded in agreement.
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Post by melon head. on Nov 2, 2008 18:13:38 GMT -5
At the funeral, Kit told her brothers that "Everything would work out alright." Two weeks later, catastrophe had completely taken over, and everything was working out terribly. For one thing, Jacques hadn't been able to speak for ten days after the news of his parents' death. When he finally did manage to choke out a few words ("Could you please pass the salt, Bertrand?") he was whisked away by the principal. "Why?" Kit asked. "Where's he going?" "To try out a few orphanages," the principal replied. "He's the oldest, he gets to pick." "I don't get it. Why can't we just live at the school?" "For the most part, you can. But when Summer vacation comes around, you'll need a proper home. It's okay, though, he'll only be gone for a month or so." To everyone's vast annoyance, Jacques's absence made Lemony even more upset. His child-like cries of despair resulted in a fight between himself and Beatrice. "Give him a break," Kit said. "His parents just died." Beatrice snapped back that he was behaving like a three-year-old, and it was pathetic. "She's got a point," Kit told Lemony later on. "You haven't bathed once. You smell greasy." She crinkled her nose. Lemony rolled his eyes and sighed. "Look, I get that you're over it, but I'm not. This is hard for me. I'm not as strong as you are." While Lemony wallowed in self-pity, his temper was constantly threatening to explode, for the simple reason that wherever Kit went, Beatrice and Esme followed. Beatrice had told Esme about the fight she'd had with her boyfriend, and both of them were doing everything in the power to infuriate Lemony. They giggled at whatever Kit said, teased Lemony about how unkempt he looked, and dragged Kit away from Lemony so that they could go see films or get massages. Worst of all, Kit never objected. "They're my friends," she told Lemony angrily. "They can hang around me if they want!" "I miss my parents," Lemony grumbled, folding his arms. *** While Dewey would have been comforting Kit, Bertrand would have been looking after Lemony, and Jerome would have found a way to reassure Jacques, none of these people seemed to be around. Truth be told, they'd all been selected as a part of the school's debating team, and had flown to Canada three days after the Baudelaire parents' funeral. "We made the team!" Dewey had screamed excitedly to a bewildered Bertrand. He'd pranced away from the notice board happily to tell Kit. Bertrand was perplexed, having not even applied. Nor had Jerome, but the three packed their bags together, contemplating the days ahead. They had over twenty debates to get through in five days, and two other boys with them- Josh, a lanky boy who rarely spoke, and Toby, who spent most of his time reading. "This is going to be fantastic," Dewey exclaimed, bidding goodbye to Kit and Lemony. Bertrand waved to everyone happily. Jerome kissed Esme goodbye, still utterly confused about how he'd made the team, and the trio set off, leaving behind the new orphans.
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Nov 3, 2008 17:56:15 GMT -5
“I’m telling you,” Esmé said, staring down the ramp after her boyfriend and his two compatriots. Turning to Beatrice and the others, she continued: “Don’t you think it’s strange how Jerome and Bertrand were chosen for the debate team? Debating is the closest thing to arguing, and we all know how much Jerome hates that. And Bertrand is the laziest student in the school! What does he care about extra-curricular activities?”
Kit asked where that left Dewey.
“No where,” Esmé said. “Since he’s already an active member of the team, it’s not surprising that he was chosen.”
Beatrice suddenly leapt up from her chair, which startled both Lemony and Jacques to the point where they stumbled out of theirs. “I just thought of something!” Beatrice exclaimed loudly, so that a few heads turned in their direction. “Something dreadful!”
Kit asked what it was, and Beatrice waited until Esmé had run over to the group before answering.
“Ernest and Geraldine,” Beatrice whispered.
“But Ernest has been expelled,” Esmé pointed out.
“But it doesn’t mean that the two of them aren’t still working together. Remember what Ernest said to us that day in the cafeteria? When Jacques told Geraldine to give the tape with Ernest’s confession about replacing Kit’s vitamins to the principal?”
Esmé nodded her head firmly. “Yes! He told us all to watch our backs.”
Lemony indicated how strange it was for Geraldine to be working with Ernest when it had been she who had helped get him expelled.
“It probably doesn’t even have anything to do with the tape,” Esmé said. “Besides, Ernest probably wasn’t even expelled. Remember? It was the same day that Kit, Lemony, and Jacques found out that…” She trailed off, seeing no point in bringing up the painful memory to her friends.
“This isn’t making any sense,” Beatrice said, flustered. “Why would Ernest bother getting revenge for something that never even happened?”
“Because he’s a creep,” Esmé emphasized. “That’s why.”
Kit said the more important question was what Ernest and Geraldine were planning, if anything. Kit then explained (calmly) to her siblings and friends that it was pointless to worry over something when you didn’t even know if it was going to happen.
“We should inform the principal,” Beatrice said.
Lemony shrieked that that was the worst thing they could do. Kit shushed him, while Beatrice and Esmé simply rolled their eyes in annoyance. Jacques, as usual, chose to stare at the floor.
Kit advised that they should probably head back to school, and that they would discuss a (possible) plan of action on the way.
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Post by melon head. on Nov 5, 2008 0:56:37 GMT -5
"I can't believe we came all the way out here," Lemony moaned. "I think I'm too frail to walk back." "For Gods' sake,' Kit replied, "you're not eighty." "But I'm emotionally scarred. Try seeing it from my perspective. It was basically my fault- remember how mom always asked me if I wanted to help her with dinner? I said no every single time. Maybe if I'd said yes, she would have been more enthusiastic and wouldn't have set the oven on- OW!" Beatrice and Esme had both started poking Lemony with two long, very large sticks. The giggled furiously into their hands. "Stop being so immature!" Beatrice laughed louder, telling him to stop thinking he was so important. Esme pointed out that his parents would certainly have died, regardless of him. Lemony ran ahead, sobbing. "Aw," Kit laughed, "you made him cry." "It wouldn't be the first time," Jacques said quietly, rolling his eyes. Jacques's speaking habit had become so rare, that whenever he made any kind of sound, everyone stopped dead to hear him. "I," Jacques stopped, startled to see the three girls staring intently at him. "Er... I'm going to break up with Geraldine." Esme and Beatrice scolded him for not already doing it, but Kit interrupted them. "Hold on," she said slyly. "What if you were to wait a bit? Say.. have a few conversations with her? Just be a good boyfriend and let her talk to you." "Why would I- oh! You want me to find out what she's up to!" Kit snickered. "Don't break up with her just yet." *** Toby was already at the hotel- he and Josh had taken an earlier flight, which meant that they'd already filled the wardrobes with their own clothes, much to Bertrand's distaste. He complained that he'd have to iron all his shirts if her left them in his suitcase for too long. Dewey went downstairs to see Josh, who was playing on his skateboard in the courtyard. "Could you be more of a stereotype?" he asked doubtfully. Josh shrugged. "I still dunno why I'm here," he said. "I like, don't talk, let alone debate. This is stupid. But Canada's awesome, so whatever." Dewey made a mental note to put Josh as a reserve. Jerome had already requested a position on the bench, for his fear of public speaking, and his great dislike for arguing. Bertrand had eagerly agreed to be second speaker- he claimed that a third cousin would be debating in the same venue as second speaker, and apparently, the two had a rivalry. Dewey had ventured no further into the situation, not wanting to get involved. Toby was a keen debater- Dewey recognized him from meetings. "It's so weird, though," Toby said. "I have heaps of friends who put their names down, I don't get why none of them get to come. Just these guys- none of whom wanted to come." He sighed and went back to his book. Dewey raised an eyebrow, wondering what on Earth was going on.
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Nov 5, 2008 13:04:46 GMT -5
Since Bertrand, Josh, and Toby would be sharing a large room, Jerome and Dewey had been placed together in one of the smaller ones. Jerome was busy ironing one of his thirty-something ties on a miniature ironing board he had brought along. He finished and was just about to start on another tie when Bertrand burst into the room. Jerome almost didn’t recognize him, due to the fact that Bertrand’s face was completely hidden by the armful of clothing he was carrying. “Jerome, I hate to bother you,” Bertrand said, his voice muffled. “But do you think you could do me a favor?” “Sure,” Jerome said. “What is it?” Bertrand dropped the clothing onto Dewey’s bed before answering. “Do you think I could use some of the space in yours and Dewey’s closet for my clothes? It seems that Josh and Toby saw fit to each take along their seasonal wardrobes, so now I have no place to keep my things.” Frowning, Jerome glanced over at the pile of ties he still had to iron, as well as the fourteen pairs of Dockers that needed pressing. He supposed it wouldn’t be asking too much, even though the closet was close to being full already. Having wrinkles in his clothing always tended to bother him in a way he had never been able to explain to others. But if it was to help out a friend, then he supposed he could overlook it. Besides, it was always better not to argue. “Jerome,” Bertrand asked when it appeared as though Jerome had completely forgotten about him. “Is it O.K.?” The voice pulled Jerome away from his obsessive thoughts and back to the question at hand. “Well, of course it is,” he said. “There’s plenty of room.” Bertrand hurried over to the closet and put away his clothes. Thankfully, he had brought his own hangers, and so Jerome didn’t feel pressured to offer Bertrand any of his. “What are you doing?” Bertrand asked, taking a seat on Jerome’s bed across from where he had set up the ironing board on the desk. “I’m ironing,” Jerome said. “Why?” “Because I don’t like wrinkles in my clothing.” “But you’re ironing ties.”Jerome blushed. “So?” “So,” Bertrand continued, “no one’s going to notice when you’ll be wearing it underneath your jacket.” “The top half will be showing, though,” Jerome said. “Then why not just iron the top half?” “Because then it won’t be—“ Jerome suddenly felt very embarrassed, and he propped the iron upright so that he could rub nervously at his face. He hated being questioned— it was too much like arguing —and when it concerned his obsessive-compulsive behavior, he became even more uncomfortable. If the next question Bertrand asked concerned Jerome ironing his boxer shorts (which was something he did do), then the stock-broker’s son was going to burst into tears. Thankfully, the following question Bertrand asked had nothing to do with boxer shorts. “Would you like any help?” he asked. Jerome felt his embarrassment disperse, and he drew his hand away from his face. “That’s very kind of you,” he said. “But I’m very particular when it comes to my garments. But if you’d like to help, then I have a few handkerchiefs that could use a good iron.” Bertrand laughed. “You iron your handkerchiefs?” he exclaimed, not meaning for the question to come out sounding as rude as it did. And perhaps it wouldn’t have, if only he had stopped there. But he didn’t stop to think, and instead kept at it. “What do you have? Some kind of OCD thing?” Apparently, Bertrand had hit the nail on the head. He watched in surprise as Jerome yanked the iron’s cord out from the wall, threw his hands over his face, and raced out of the room. “Hey,” Bertrand called after Jerome. “What’d I do?!” *** Kit, Jacques, Beatrice, and Esmé had all returned from the airport just in time for lunch. As they entered the cafeteria, Kit nodded in the direction of Geraldine, who was, as usual, sitting at a table by herself. Jacques groaned inwardly. After taking a quick look around to make sure that Ernest wasn’t around (Jacques knew that the triplet had been expelled, but he still couldn’t seem to shake that paranoid feeling), he headed over to Geraldine’s table. “It’s too bad that there’s no way we’ll be able to hear them,” Esmé said. Kit told Esmé and Beatrice not to worry, and that Jacques would return with an in-depth report of his conversation with Geraldine. “Come on, girls,” Beatrice said. “Let’s go get our spots in line before it gets too long.” Kit agreed, and together she and Beatrice dragged Esmé across the cafeteria to the lunch line.
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Post by melon head. on Nov 6, 2008 2:18:24 GMT -5
"Geraldine," Jacques grunted, sliding his empty tray on to the table and sitting across from his girlfriend. "Jacky!" Geraldine beamed up at him, but her smile faltered when she noticed his empty plate. "You haven't any lunch," she observed. Jacques glanced over at Kit, Beatrice and Esme, urgency in his eyes. Kit waved at him. He turned back to Geraldine, teeth gritted. "As long as I have you, I need not eat, for you are my sunshine and my sandwich." Esme scoffed. Of course, there was no chance that she could hear him, but she could probably sense the sappiness in the atmosphere. "Oh, Jacky!" Geraldine's nose was still enormous, even though her beating had taken place more than two weeks ago. It was a sickly shade of yellowy green. "I'm so glad you're talking again," she said quickly, "because I thought you were mad at me because I told you your parents died. But it was probably just the fact that your parents died that stopped you talking, right? When my parents died-" Jacques wrenched his eyes away from the sloppy joes being served and did a double take. "Say what?" Geraldine didn't acknowledge him. "-I was so crushed because Mummy was the one who bought me all my equipment and stuff, and Daddy was a journalist too so he was my inspiration! But he wasn't very good, really; he always insisted on waiting until facts were proven true and silly things like that. But, you know, they were my parents and stuff but what's weird is that they died in a fire like your parents, right, but what's weirder is that my mom, like, never cooked, so I'm wondering what happened because the fireman said a gas leakage but ovens can't use gas if they're never used, can they? So I tried to investigate but everything was burnt so I came here and remember I lived in the orphan shack? Well I don't now because this old guy adopted me and-" "Why don't we continue this discussion upstairs?" Jacques found his head throbbing as he tried to remember every word of Geraldine's. "Okay!" Geraldine sprang up, put her arm around Jacques's waist and continued to talk. "So this guy adopted me and he was really old and I thought he was a pedophile but then it turned out he was my grandfather's brother's ex-wife's new husband or something lame so it was okay because we were related, but I couldn't shake the feeling that he was a bit pervy. So one night I bought these nice undies-" "Help," Jacques hissed as he passed Kit, Beatrice and Esme. *** "What did you do?" Dewey's roaring voice was not nearly as bad as Jerome's hunched, crying figure had been, but it was still bad. Bertrand explained that he'd had no idea that Jerome actually had a form of OCD. "Seriously!" Dewey exclaimed. "If someone's ironing their unmentionables, d'you think they might have a little problem?Jerome's really nice, he's just not... you know... completely stable. Don't draw attention to things like that. His father's a bastard, I can tell you that now. Beats him and stuff." Bertrand nodded. "It's sick. Who beats their own son?" Dewey stormed out, leaving Bertrand to rub at the place where Dewey had thwacked him with his belt. The irony.
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Nov 6, 2008 18:34:36 GMT -5
Following his tearful exit from his bedroom, Jerome had hidden himself away in the game room downstairs. He figured that everyone was either busy preparing for the debate or still unpacking to think to come down for a game of pool, and so he didn’t have to worry about being walked in on. He was still so embarrassed over the fact that someone had discovered his “problem”, and without him even having to say a word about it.
Jerome picked up a pool stick, but instead of using it to hit any of the balls, he simply chose to lean against it. Only after he had entered the game room, then did Jerome remember that he had left his underwear lying out in plain sight of everyone. He supposed that it wouldn’t have been so bad if only the patterns hadn’t consisted of things like hearts, smiley faces, and— of all things —dollar signs. He imagined that Dewey (who he had passed on his way down the stairs) and Bertrand were having a good laugh behind Jerome’s back right about now. The very thought that his friends were having fun at his expense caused fresh tears to weld up in his eyes.
He could almost hear the accusing voice of his father belittling him.
All of his life, Jerome had been made to feel like an outcast: both at home and at school. He was quiet and slightly overweight, with few friends and a mental problem that was difficult to explain. He had never had a girlfriend until he’d met Esmé, who was so sweet and kind and beautiful that he often wondered why she had even chosen him. He had no idea how he had managed to keep his unusual behavior a secret from her all this time. Or maybe he only thought she had, and in reality she was giggling about him behind his back like Beatrice was now doing to Lemony. Once more, the thought brought about more tears, and Jerome wiped them away with the back of his hand.
“Hey. Want some company?”
Jerome sniffed, then turned to see Bertrand and Dewey standing in the doorway. Dewey was clutching a can of root beer, while Bertrand held two in each hand. “Here,” Bertrand said, and tossed a root beer to Jerome. He caught it, but just barely, and ended up sacrificing the pool stick loudly to the floor in the process. “I’m really sorry about before. I was just joking around— I had no idea that you actually have OCD. If I did know, then I would never have brought it up in the first place.”
Jerome set his soda down on the table, and bent down to pick up his stick from the floor. “Forget about it,” he said.
“You wanna play a little three on three?” Bertrand asked.
“Pardon?”
He chuckled. “Boy,” he said. “You must not be much of a sportsman, huh? I was asking if you’d like to play a game of pool with Dewey and me.”
Jerome’s pudgy face lit up. “Oh, I didn’t realize that you— I mean, sure.”
He waited while Bertrand and Dewey each went to grab themselves a stick. Jerome paid close attention to the way they held theirs, so that when it was his turn he would know what to do. But when the time came, he was unable to meet their moves. For one thing, Jerome’s thick fingers kept slipping off the edge of the stick, causing the ball to move undesirably. Frustrated, he went to stand by himself against the wall.
“You two keep playing,” Jerome said, and flicked open his can of root beer. “I’ll just stand here and watch.”
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