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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Sept 2, 2008 10:46:06 GMT -5
[Thank you, Vanja!
May, I apologize for the length of this post. I got caught up in the drama of it all.]
Jerome had never been an aggressive person, but even his girlfriend and their companions took notice of how he forced himself through the crowd.
Among the teachers was Mrs. Pickett, and she turned her accusing eyes on Jerome, Esmé, Beatrice, Dewey, and Bertrand.
“What happened to Geraldine?” Esmé asked. She didn’t exactly care about the girl who had been about to ruin what reputation Esmé had (and evidently wouldn’t be doing so now), but she couldn’t help but be generally curious.
“Someone punched her,” Mrs. Pickett explained.
“Punched her?!” Beatrice exclaimed. She knew that she and her friends had all thought about punching the irritating journalist-in-training at some point, but none of them would have ever actually done it.
“Who would do such a thing?” Bertrand added.
The suspicious eyes of Mrs. Pickett scanned over Jerome and Dewey, but in the end the woman only shook her head. “No one knows,” she said. “That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”
“Can we do anything to help?” Beatrice offered.
“One of you can run and fetch the nurse,” Mrs. Pickett said.
“I’ll go,” Jerome volunteered.
“I’ll go with you,” Esmé said.
To her surprise, Jerome shook his head. “No, Esmé. I want you to go back up to your dorm and get some rest. I’ll be by to visit you later, I promise.”
Esmé pouted, but didn’t complain. She then watched— along with Beatrice, Dewey, and Bertrand —as Jerome dashed off in the direction of the nurse’s office.
On his way, Jerome passed by the playground, and his ears pricked up to the sound of a faint voice as it uttered his name.
Jerome halted in his tracks. He turned, and caught sight of someone hidden underneath the slide. As he drew closer, he saw that it was Jacques Snicket, his face smudged with tears.
“Jacques!” Jerome gasped, crawling underneath the slide and sitting in the dirt alongside his friend. “What are you doing here?”
Jacques then explained— in between heaving sobs that he tried to keep as quiet as possible —how he had confronted Geraldine on the rumors regarding his homosexuality, and how (in a moment of passion) he had punched her in the face. Jacques went on to say that he had never meant to do it, how he had just been so angry that all rational thought had flooded out of him temporarily.
By the time he had finished giving Jerome his confession, Jacques was sobbing like a girl in Jerome’s arms, the other boy gently stroking Jacques’ hair in what was only meant to be a comforting gesture.
Jerome never expected what happened next to occur.
Jacques kissed him.
On the mouth.
Hard and hot.
It had been a decision that had been made purely on the spur of the moment, and when Jacques followed through he was fairly certain that no one had been around to see it.
But it broke his heart when Jerome pushed him away.
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Post by Vanja on Sept 14, 2008 14:47:23 GMT -5
brilliant chapter <3 love it ;D
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lordi
Catastrophic Captain
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Posts: 54
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Post by lordi on Sept 15, 2008 0:26:41 GMT -5
guys I absolutley love your work. I printed off the entire thing. have u guys ever thought about writing a book? cause this thing is one long thread!!! Also, to help my m8 out in a game, do you mind if I out a webllink here? it won't do anything bad I SWEAR but if u click it it gives him money in game... I am really worried about him. he has been really upset lately and I don't know why...
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lordi
Catastrophic Captain
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Posts: 54
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Post by lordi on Sept 15, 2008 0:26:50 GMT -5
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Post by melon head. on Oct 6, 2008 0:15:04 GMT -5
[Emma, I'm so sorry that I didn't reply for so long. As you'll see on HIEOAHSB (Whoa, long abbreviation) I was really busy and just couldn't get online. Hopefully this post will make it up to you. It's nice and long ] "You love him." "Shut up." "You punched Geraldine." "Shut up." "You love Jerome and you punched Geraldine in the face!" Kit cried, staring at her brother in shock. "I don't love him." "I can't believe you had a go at me for questioning your sexuality and then snogged him," Kit said angrily, folding her arms. Jacques went to touch her shoulder, but she stepped away. "Don't touch me, girl basher!" They were standing outside the dining hall. The doors were ajar, and Kit could see Esme, Beatrice, Lemony and Jerome eating together. They all seemed happy, except for Jerome, who looked numb from shock. A few tables down, Dewey and Bertrand were in deep conversation at a single table. Both their plates were full, despite dinner having started half an hour ago. "You've scarred him for life," Kit observed. "Kit!" Jacques yelped. "I trusted you with this information! Stop teasing me like this." "No teasing, dearest brother." Kit scowled, her hands on her hips. "Just confirming the facts." Jacques looked on the brink of tears. "I'll never make a mistake like that again," he said. "It just- it felt so right. I had no idea things would come out this badly. I mean, I don't know what I was thinking, I just- did it. And I regret it. I'm sorry." "Don't apologize to me, apologize too poor Jerome! He'd never want to share a room with you now. You just blew it with another friend." "I never blew it with Dimitri," Jacques pointed out. "He died." "Did you ever... you know.." Kit bit her lip. Jacques squinted at her, then lept back, disgusted. "God no! I never- no! Seriously, up until this afternoon, I'd never had a single homosexual encounter. All the talk of it, though, made me wonder if I was. Geraldine can often have the facts right, however incorrectly they're typed." He began pacing, his eyes moving around the interior of the dining hall. Kit noticed Lemony feeding Beatrice a piece of pasta, Beatrice's eyes shining as she ate the ravioli of Lemony's fork. Esme eating a caesar salad- it may have been a salad, but at least it was a filling one. Jerome had not touched his crepes with salmon. He was watching Esme, his brow furrowed. "I have to redeem myself," Jacques said suddenly, causing Kit to jump. "Prove that I'm sorry, that it was a one-off thing, you know? So that Jerome won't be afraid to come near me." "That's simple," Kit said. "Geraldine doesn't know that you punched her, right? She blacked out and forgot what happened. So go in and kiss her in plain view of everyone. Then Jerome will know you were just... experimenting." Jacques nodded. "You thought of that ages ago, didn't you?" "Of course," Kit replied. "Now, I want to go eat." She ventured into the hall without another word, and sat down with Bertrand and Dewey. Jacques, aware of his initiative, marched into the hall after her, and to where Geraldine was sitting- alone. "Are we still on for tomorrow?" Jacques asked tenderly. "Whatever you say, Jack-Jack!" Geraldine exclaimed. "I thought you might find me unattractive now, what with my nose." Her nose had inflamed to at least four times its regular size, and was a deep shade of purple. Jacques wondered if this would obstruct their kiss. "See you then," he said, leaning forward. He shut his eyes and hoped Jerome was watching.
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Post by Vanja on Oct 6, 2008 11:01:09 GMT -5
aww ;D i like this chapter !
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Oct 6, 2008 11:54:02 GMT -5
It’s okay, May! We’re back on the ball now. And I loved your post. And thank you, Vanja and lordi. *** “Well, would you look at that,” Beatrice commented from the table. “Those two certainly seem to make up quickly, don’t they?” Turning his attention away from Esmé’s face, Jerome rested his eyes on Jacques and Geraldine. Jerome had to admit that seeing the display helped set his restless mind at ease. He only hoped it was for real, and not for his benefit. “What the—” Esmé started, and then remembered that Jerome was sitting right beside her. She knew he didn’t approve of swearing, and she patted his hand apologetically before continuing. “I thought you said that Jacques was the one who punched her.” “He was,” Jerome said, and bit his lip in confusion. “Maybe Jacques apologized,” Beatrice suggested. “Either that,” Esmé said, “or Geraldine is just really desperate.”Everyone except Jerome laughed, which prompted Esmé to turn to him in concern. “What’s wrong, Jerome?” she asked, massaging his large hand a little with her slender fingers. “You’ve barely said a word since we sat down.” “Not to mention taken a single bite of your food,” Bertrand added. “Isn’t eating one of your favorite pastimes?” “Are you upset about the fight, Jerome?” Beatrice asked. “Sometimes the sight of blood freaks me out, too. It’s perfectly understandable if you—” To everyone’s surprise, Jerome shook his head. There was no way he could tell them about what had happened between him and Jacques underneath the slide. The others would laugh at Jerome like the kids at Blue Melody Academy had done, and call him queer just because he was quiet and preferred books to socializing. Worse yet, Esmé would dump him and probably go after Bertrand or some other young man who was more fit and willing to prove his masculinity. Jerome didn’t realize it at the time, but a tear had begun to roll down his cheek. Esmé, who was sitting closest to him, was the first to notice. “Jerome, you’re crying,” Esmé said sadly. Tenderly, she reached out to brush away his tear, surprised when he flinched. “No, I’m not,” Jerome denied, and sniffled loudly in spite of himself. “Yes, you are. What’s wrong?” Embarrassed that he had begun crying like a baby in front of his girlfriend and her friends, Jerome stood up. In his moment of upset, he nearly knocked over his chair, but caught it before it could topple to the floor or possibly knock into Esmé. “I just remembered,” Jerome said through his tears, “I have a test I need to study for. Here.” He picked the plate of salmon crepes up from his tray and placed it on Esmé’s. “You need these more than I do.” Esmé ignored Jerome’s offer, and instead reached for his hand once more. “Jerome, something’s wrong. Why don’t you just tell me what it is?” “I have to go,” he said, taking back his hand, despite how much it hurt them both to do so. “I’ll see you later.” Jerome raced out of the cafeteria, leaving behind a very hurt Esmé Salinger and a table full of confused spectators. “What the hell was that?” Bertrand asked, and Kit kicked him on account of his outright stupidity.
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Post by Vanja on Oct 6, 2008 12:35:54 GMT -5
wow whats wrong with him ? dont turn jerome into a gay too please !
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Oct 6, 2008 12:38:49 GMT -5
Don't worry, that isn't going to happen- I don't think! Jerome is just paranoid that people will find out that Jacques kissed him, and what they'll think.
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Post by melon head. on Oct 18, 2008 0:19:51 GMT -5
Jacques was washing his lips for the umpteenth time when he heard the bathroom door open. He looked up into time to see Jerome, looking petrified.
"I was just leaving!" Jacques cried, bolting out of the room before Jerome could get a word in.
Later that night, Jerome shrugged his way into his favorite one-piece cashmere pajama suit. He decided he'd buy Esme one, they were so comfy, He was just settling down in his bed, A Catcher in The Rye propped open at page twenty-four, where he'd last read up to, when Jacques walked into the room. They both jumped.
"Hello!" Jacques screeched. "I- you- we share a room now, that's- uh- should I sleep out there?"
Jerome responded, equally loudly, that he needn't worry about it.
"Shut up!" Dewey cried from next door. "Seriously, you two, be a bit louder, thanks."
Jacques looked down at himself awkwardly, and tucked himself into his bed fully clothed. He felt Jerome's eyes on the back of his head, and said, "Want to hear something hilarious? I was heavily intoxicated when I punched Geraldine."
Jerome rolled his eyes, telling him not to be silly.
"No, I was. It's those damn alchopops that get me, I'll tell you what-"
Jerome sat up, and found that he couldn't stop the words from spilling out. He apologized for being so rude, and for avoiding him all day, and he actually wanted nothing more than to be good friends with Jacques, and had been ecstatic when Jacques had offered to share dorms. He was worried that Jacques publicly kissing Geraldine had been for his benefit only, because of what happened.
"Jerome, I'm sorry." Jacques sighed. "I'm sorry about how terrible I made you feel, and how cruel it was to do something like that to you. I shouldn't have."
Jerome croaked something barely audible.
"What?"
He said it again, marginally louder. Jacques laughed.
"Yes, we can be friends again."
And the friends talked till one in the morning, when Dewey suddenly burst in and threatened to stab them both to death with a blunt garden fork. Then they silently went to bed, knowing that for once, everything would be okay.
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Oct 18, 2008 11:39:34 GMT -5
Esmé spent most of the night tossing and turning in her bed, haunted by reasons as to why Jerome had rushed out of the cafeteria that afternoon. He hadn’t shown up for dinner (though Jacques had), and so it had been up to Kit and Beatrice to make sure that Esmé didn’t disappear. She had managed to both eat and keep down the crepes that Jerome had given her, as well as the steak she ate for dinner. She would have told him had he bothered to show up. The next morning, both Kit and Beatrice were amazed when Esmé made no effort to be the first one in the bathroom. They immediately jumped on her, demanding an explanation. “I didn’t sleep at all last night,” Esmé explained tiredly. “I kept thinking about Jerome, and the way he seemed to avoid me yesterday.” “He avoided all of us,” Beatrice pointed out, though she knew that it wouldn’t make a difference. Jerome was Esmé’s boyfriend, and so she was obviously going to be more effected than everyone else. “I’m sure it’s all just a misunderstanding, Esmé. You’ll talk to Jerome at breakfast, and get it all straightened out before first period. I’m certain of it.” Esmé looked doubtful. “If he even shows up,” she said. Kit reminded her two friends that they only had an hour to prepare for their first class. Esmé usually took the longest to get ready in the mornings, and so she advised Kit to go shower first. When she disappeared, Esmé turned to Beatrice. “Do you think Jerome’s still mad at me for what happened the other day?” Esmé asked. Beatrice shook her head. “Oh, Esmé,” she said, “of course not! He was never mad at you. He’s just concerned. We all are.” Esmé yawned. She really wasn’t up for attending any of her classes today, but what else could she do? She already struggled in every class aside from home economics, and she was beginning to think that was only because the teacher liked her. It was going to be a long day. *** The three girls were coming out of their dorms just as Dewey, Jacques, and Jerome were coming out of theirs. Dewey greeted Kit with a kiss on the mouth (of which Jacques looked away embarrassedly, while Beatrice giggled). Jerome smiled at Esmé, his cheeks bright pink. When he saw that she was frowning, not to mention the dark circles underneath her eyes, his smile faltered. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “You look as though you didn’t sleep a wink at all last night.” He knew he wasn’t exactly one who should be talking, bearing in mind that he had been up half the night himself. Though judging by Esmé’s pronounced pout, she had a completely different reason altogether. Kit suggested to Dewey and the others that they head over to the cafeteria. Jerome assured them that he and Esmé would be along in a little while. After everyone else had left, he turned back to his girlfriend. “You were behaving strangely yesterday,” Esmé said, her eyes focused on the floor. “I thought maybe you were mad at me.” Jerome looked shocked. If anything, he had been angry with himself— as well as a little with Jacques, but not really. The fact that Esmé would think he would feel anything but love for her made him feel as though someone had stabbed him in the heart. It wasn’t until she began to cry that he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. “You’re so silly,” Jerome said, unable to ignore just how cute Esmé looked when she cried. “Why on Earth would I be mad?” Esmé shrugged, and took a step closer to Jerome. She was only a couple of inches shorter than him, but she was so slight that she was practically hidden from the view of others every time he held her. “I was worried you might not like me anymore,” she said softly. “You left the cafeteria so abruptly yesterday I thought something might be wrong.” “There was,” said Jerome, who hated lying. Esmé looked up. “But it didn’t concern you, and I got it straightened out. So don’t worry, O.K.?” Esmé sniffled, and Jerome offered her his silk handkerchief. “My aunt sends me about ten of these a year for Christmas,” he explained. “I have far too many, so why don’t you keep this one?” Esmé nodded, and looked closely at the handkerchief. As she did, she saw that it was inscribed with Jerome’s initials at the lower right-hand corner. Holding the handkerchief close to her face, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It smelled just like him. Jerome put his arm around Esmé, and turned her in the direction of the stairs. “Come on,” he said, “let’s go get some breakfast. I’m not myself until I’ve had my pancakes.”
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Post by melon head. on Oct 19, 2008 4:08:01 GMT -5
Kit grinned at the substitute who was taking her Advanced Algebra class. He was a stout man with a permanent crease in his forehead,, and he surveyed the note Kit had handed him with what seemed to be frustration.
"You have permission to leave my class to see a therapist?" he asked.
"Correctness," Kit confirmed. She beamed brighter still, and the teacher sighed.
"Fine. You know it's school policy to be accompanied by a peer, don't you?"
Kit indicated to Dewey and nodded. "He can take me," she said.
Dewey sprang from his chair and up to where Kit and the teacher stood. "Yes, sir," he yelped, and grabbed Kit's waist. They marched out of the room, giggling furiously, before the substitute could say another word.
"How'd you sleep?" Kit asked once they were outside.
"Terribly," Dewey snarled. "Jacques and Jerome were up all night talking in the next room."
Kit's eyebrows shot up. "They were?" She smiled. "Good for them."
Dewey shook his head. "I don't know how Bertrand and Lemony sleep through stuff like that. Bertrand, I understand a bit- he spends all day working out. But Lemony just sits and writes."
"Who knows? Writing could be exhausting."
The couple left the grounds and wandered up the street. they finally found themselves at a petite coffee house. It was deserted aside from a large man inside.
"Simon!" Dewey cried, hugging his uncle. Kit shuffled awkwardly on the spot.
"You remember my girlfriend, Kit? Kit, this is Simon."
Simon took Kit's hand in his own and shook it. His hands were clammy, and Kit found herself wiping away the sweat when he let go.
"Hello," he said gruffly, indicating for Dewey and Kit to seat themselves. He ordered them each a root beer float.
"Now, Kit," he wheezed. "Tell me... what's the problem?"
Kit spoke for a quarter of an hour about the stress of extra curricular activities, boys and school. She spoke about her worry for her friends, and her brothers. When she was done, she found tears in her eyes.
"Since you fainted, I bet a bunch of adults have been telling you that you're too stressed, right?"
"Yeah," Kit choked.
"Mmm... a load of crap."
Kit and Dewey both started laughing.
"No, I'm being dead serious. You're not stressed- Jesus, you could take on more volunteer work if you wanted. You're just afraid. You're brothers, no offense to them, are doing terribly, and you- well, you're at the top of your game. You're so worried that you'll become the favorite, even though it's obvious your parents forget you exist from time to time. You're scared that you'll become the one people think of when they think of the name Snicket- because in your opinion, it shouldn't be you, but your brothers. You've got to understand that they'll find their own way in time, okay? You can be the best Snicket every once in a while. It'll vary, though, so don't get worked up about it."
Kit smiled, and felt a great weight being lifted off her shoulders. All the stress was gone, and she felt light and relieved.
"Thank you," she said.
Simon smiled. "I'll notify your doctor," he replied.
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Oct 19, 2008 14:50:12 GMT -5
Okay, here's a long one from me. I hope you don't mind. *** It was second period, and Jerome was sitting in algebra with Esmé and Beatrice. “Isn’t today the day of Kit’s session with Dewey’s uncle?” Jerome asked. “The therapist?” Beatrice nodded. “They left class together,” she said. “When did Kit say they would be returning?” Esmé asked. “Sometime before lunch.” Esmé nodded thoughtfully, and picked up her pencil. “Then I probably won’t see her until last period.” “Esmé, what are you talking about?” Beatrice asked. “We all have the same lunch.” “I know,” Esmé said. “But I’ve decided to skip it.” Jerome looked positively horrified, but Beatrice remained calm. “Esmé, don’t be foolish,” she said. “It’ll be boring without you.” Esmé’s face suddenly twisted into an expression of anger. “But I already ate breakfast,” she hissed. “And I’m going to eat dinner tonight. What else do you want from me?” Beatrice glanced over at Ms. Marshall, who was sitting at her desk, marking off papers from her first period class. Turning back to Esmé, Beatrice whispered: “What we want is for you to start being sensible.” Esmé’s eyes widened. “You’re calling me stupid?” she asked. “No,” Beatrice answered firmly. “I’m just saying that you wouldn’t be passing out as often as you do if you make the effort to eat more.” Jerome could sense an argument brewing between the two girls, and he was starting to feel anxious. He always did when people argued. “You and Kit used to be the same size,” Beatrice went on. “Remember? She would lend you garments when you complained of not having anything nice to wear.” Although Beatrice wasn’t trying to, Esmé could feel herself being backed up into a corner. She knew she was being foolish by not eating as much as she should, but the memories of being teased and tormented by Ernest Denouement weren’t that far in the past. She could almost hear him taunting her about her weight, and in a moment of frustration she slammed her fist down against the desk loudly. Esmé immediately became aware of the eyes of everyone in the classroom staring at her, feeling her face grow red from embarrassment. “Is there a problem, Miss Salinger?” Ms. Marshall asked. “No, ma’am,” Esmé replied, her eyes focused sharply on her textbook. “Then would you mind restraining yourself from interrupting the class any further? Some people here actually want to learn.” Esmé couldn’t help but wonder if what her teacher had just said was meant to be a knock at her intelligence, but what did it matter now? The words had been spoken, and after her near argument with Beatrice, that was all it took for Esmé to follow through with what she did next. “Ms. Marshall,” she said, “I’m going to the bathroom.” Esmé rushed out before her teacher could remind her to take along a hall pass. *** Esmé slammed the door of the stall shut and climbed up onto the toilet. She seated herself on the top and positioned her feet around the rim. No matter what her so-called “friends” believed, she hadn’t come here to do anything more than cry. Why was it that no one seemed to understand what she had been forced to go through three years ago, when she had looked in the mirror and hated what she saw? Being teased by Ernest hadn’t helped, and even though he still did it occasionally, at least she was comforted by the fact that his words were no longer true. Esmé was just beginning to think she was up to returning to class when there came a knock at the door. Annoyed that no one trusted her to be alone in the bathroom by herself, Esmé snapped: “Go away, Beatrice! I’m not doing anything in here!” Surprisingly, the voice that answered was not Beatrice’s, but someone else completely. “It isn’t Beatrice.” Esmé unlocked the door and pulled it back. There, standing outside the stall, was the last person she would ever have expected to see standing inside the girls’ bathroom at Prufrock Preparatory School. “Jerome?” Esmé exclaimed. “What are you doing in the—” Jerome could not have appeared more uncomfortable about having entered the girls’ bathroom. His was bright red, and he was shaking all over. “I was worried about you,” he said, and offered Esmé his hand. “I wasn’t doing anything,” she explained as she took it, and climbed down off the toilet. “I just needed to be alone.” “I know,” Jerome said, and looked around uncomfortably. “I hate to seem demanding, but could we please get out of here? I feel as though I’ve committed a terrible crime.” Brushing the tears from her eyes with one finger, Esmé leaned into Jerome’s shoulder. She wanted to ask what he had been thinking before entering the girls’ bathroom, and hugged his arm as they exited through the door. Thankfully, classes were still in session and so no one had seen Jerome emerge from the girls’ bathroom. As they walked back towards the classroom, Esmé couldn’t help but giggle at how pink his cheeks still were.
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Post by melon head. on Oct 20, 2008 0:40:48 GMT -5
[Lovely long entry. Here's one from me!]
Esme picked at her salad distastefully. She grimaced as she popped a cherry tomato in her mouth, and then refrained from spitting it out. Bertrand nearly made a remark, but Beatrice shot him a warning look.
"It's the comfortable silences," Jacques sighed. Jerome laughed, patting Esme's hand.
Dewey and Kit slid into the vacant seats at the end of the table wordlessly. Both looked anxious.
"How did it go?" Lemony asked, and Beatrice sensed the urgency in his voice.
Kit took a deep breath in, and all at once, the cafeteria went silent. Every head turned towards Kit, waiting to see if the beloved Snicket sister would remain with them at Prufrock Prep.
"We don't know yet," she said loudly. "Expecting a call from the doctor."
Everyone went back to eating.
"You know who should go out?" Dewey asked, not wanting to draw attention to Kit.
"Who?" Lemony asked, feeding Beatrice a spoonful of Macaroni.
"Ernest and Geraldine. They'd be a perfect couple."
Jerome's eyebrows shot up.
"Oi! Back off! That's my girlfriend you're matchmaking there." Jacques tried to control his voice, hoping he didn't sound too desperate that Geraldine would dump him for Ernest. Only Kit and Lemony picked this up, and they smiled at each other.
"Kit Snicket?" Came a voice. Kit whirled around in her seat and saw Charles, an older student, at the head of the cafeteria.
"That's me," Kit called back.
"Phone for you," Charles said, indicating to outside. The cafeteria went quiet again.
Kit clambered through tables and went outside without even glancing back at her friends. It would be too heartbreaking if she wasn't allowed to stay to look at their hopeful faces.
No one spoke. No one ate. Everyone simply sat sat amongst the eerie silence, with the exception of Geraldine, who was setting up her new microphone. Lemony fidgeted in his seat in anxiety. Beatrice was frozen, staring at the doorway. Esme looked as though she might be sick. Jerome's fingers were crossed under the table. Bertrand was biting his lip to the point where blood was trickling down his chin. Jacques's frown was so deep that his head began to ache. And Dewey, his eyes on his plate, began to hyperventilate. He clutched his throat, determined to not make a big deal of it.
Kit re-entered. His her eyes were filled with tears, but no one could be certain as to whether they were tears of grief or joy. She breathed in deeply, and exhaled.
"I..." She shut her eyes, barely able to continue.
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Oct 20, 2008 11:27:09 GMT -5
[Thanks, May. I'm happy that you enjoyed it.]
“What?” Beatrice asked.
Kit slid into her seat beside Dewey, and began to recap her conversation with Simon. The others all hung on her every word, and no one said anything until she had finished speaking.
“So,” Esmé said, “what does this mean?”
Kit explained that the person she had conversed with on the phone before was her family doctor. He had spoken to Simon, and assured Kit that neither her physical nor mental health were in jeopardy.
“Well?” Esmé asked. “Are you staying, or what?”
Kit nodded. As she looked up, everyone could see very clearly that she was smiling.
Beatrice and Esmé threw their arms around their friend, while Lemony and Jerome patted Kit on the back. Lemony and Bertrand each let out a loud “Woo-hoo!” and high-fived each other. Dewey seemed to be little jealous that his girlfriend was receiving attention from everyone except for him.
“We should all go out tonight,” Beatrice suggested once the excitement had died down a bit. “You know— to celebrate.”
Esmé was about to suggest a new hang out for teens that she had seen an ad for in the school newspaper, when Ernest Denouement marched over to the table. Immediately, Esmé forgot all about what she had planned to say. Instead, she slid down in her seat between Jerome and Kit, silently praying that Ernest wouldn’t notice her.
“What’s all this about?” he asked. “Did Eggs manage to make it halfway through lunch without running to the bathroom?”
Esmé silently cursed Ernest, while Jerome clenched his fist tightly.
“And yes,” Ernest went on. “I can see you hiding behind your gorilla of a boyfriend, Esmé.”
Beatrice was the first to actually say what she was feeling. “What do you want, Ernest?” she asked. “Surely you must have a reason to come over here that has nothing to do with making a total ass of yourself.”
The others snickered.
“I just thought you’d be interested to know,” Ernest replied, and looked directly at Jacques as he spoke, “that I saw what you did to Geraldine.”
Jerome suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of protection for Jacques come over him, and he stood up. Jerome was about three inches shorter than Ernest, but was about fifty or so pounds heavier, and Jerome wondered if this would help him to appear more threatening.
“Why d— don’t you just go b— back over to your t— table,” Jerome said, disgusted with himself for stuttering, which tended to happen when he was especially anxious. “And stop causing t— trouble?”
Ernest just laughed, right before giving Jerome a harsh shove. “Well, well,” Ernest said. “How does it feel to be on the other end of the revolver, Jerry?”
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