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This scene might end up with one more edit, but it’s just going to be grammar and maybe a few word choices. There’s no plot holes though, so that’s good.
I need to write down the townsfolk of Clearly on a piece of paper, it’s starting to get a bit stressful keeping track of them all in my head.
The Scene from Mr. Williams point of view.
When the lunch bell rang, the students of grade 11 swarmed out of their desks and for the door in their attempt to leave the cluttered white walls, carved and marked desks, scuffed linoleum floors and flickering florescent lights of the classroom to their teacher, Mr.Williams.
Williams watched closely as they pushed and shoved, tapping his fountain pen on his plane wooden desk. His rhythm attempting to match the complex tempo of the children’s footsteps. With the rhythm, the way they dressed, and the way they spoke, each of those children was showing their true selves to Mr. Williams. Unknowingly, and completely.
The first kids to the door were some of the more energetic of the youth, the local computer geniuses, Al Hawk and Chris Babbage. Surrounded by their small circle of nerd worshippers; Ed Schriber, Edd Schriber, Lila Killinger, and Sorrel Jobs. Despite sitting at the back of the class they always found a way to beat everyone to the door. Williams remembered once overhearing them talk about ‘mapping the school for optimum efficiency’. He assumed that had something to do with their winning the race to the door.
Now they were flinging the door open, and literally leaping between its frame and out the classroom.
After them was Lulu De Pizan, the ‘brown noser’ as her pears liked to call her. She really wasn’t, Williams found her hard to deal with. She was always came up with the most ingenious conclusions on tests, which usually left Williams himself studying to make sure she was correct. Then she would hand in essays when Williams made sure there wasn’t any other homework, in an attempt to give himself a break.
Now she was dodging the flailing feet of the computer geeks and making her way, confidently, out of the classroom.
Following in her wake were the jocks, and Joseph Maxwell talking with each other in whispers juxtaposed by hardy laughs. The jocks didn’t do much more than play football in the summer and hockey in the winter. Their walk was uniform and slow, yet few of the others would move ahead of them. The fear the jocks had mastered over the other children was unfounded, but it provided Williams with moments like this. Moments to see his students in greater detail.
Maxwell appeared to be striking up a deal with the jocks, probably regarding another one of his experiments. Often Maxwell would use his charismatic personality to obtain test subjects for his various science projects, often disguising them as something his “preferred subject” would enjoy taking part in. More often than not they would be harmless, unless he involved the jocks. Williams would be sure to contact Josephs father, Minister Clerk, to ensure whatever this new plan was no one would be harmed.
But for now he was content in watching them sift out the door. All nine of the jocks and Joseph moving in co-operation, like sand in an hour glass with the doorway as their funnel.
Following closely was Penny Beadle, the class cheerleader, looking happy and bright as usual. Williams had a hard time believing it, though. Penny was at the bottom of the pecking order when it came to the cheer leading squad, since all the others in the squad were grade 12. And the only sports minded people in grade 11 were the jocks and Stewart, but penny wouldn’t be caught talking to a ‘bottom-feeder’ like Stew.
Now she was keeping just behind the jocks, doing her best to find a way out.
Coming up next was Basel. Williams was still getting to know her, but from what he’d observed she was depressed. When she’d moved in just over a week ago she was an orphan, coming through on the caravan. She wouldn’t say much about her home, but what she did say was more horrifying than anything Williams had heard of before. He would have offered to take her in, but Minister Clerk assigned her a good place to stay, with the Miller family.
Now she spotted Mr. Williams looking her way and quickly flowed into the mass of jocks, disappearing like a phantom.
Behind where Basel had been, were the art nerds, Anderson Hollis, Jackson Paul, and Sally Dolly, mingling with the journalism kids Dale Coop, and Angela Burton. Although two separate social groups, the five could not be understood without knowing them as one cohesive entity.
They were like a society unto themselves. The artists used the journalists to promote their artwork, the journalists often found their best stories in the artists as well as some good cover art for the paper. More then that, they shared a power over the school that few could claim. Even the jocks, when push came to shove, were at the mercy of the school paper.
Now they were slowly making their way to the door, content to wait behind their much larger and stronger classmates.
An anxious, one eyed, Richard was shifting and weaving trying to make his way through the artists and journalist to, presumably, reach Basel. It seamed like all his movement had disoriented him a little, and he grabbed on to his friends behind him.
Williams was guessing something was up between Richard and Basel. Often they would walk together, to lunch. Whatever choices had led Richard to Sheriff’s house, and lost him his eye, must have lost him his friend as well. Actually, It was better that the two children weren’t speaking. Richards parents had asked Williams to make sure the two kept any interaction to a minimum. Williams wasn’t one to stifle friendships, but when the Talheims ask for something it’s generally expected of you to do it.
Now Richard was regaining his composure and resigning himself to the speed of the classroom exodus.
Lastly there was Liam and Stewart, the slackers of the class. Williams knew they could do anything they put their minds to, and they did when they were outside of the classroom. Still, once their asses met the hard surface of their wooden desk chairs they were like walls instead of students. Even now he could tell by the way they were talking they were doing everything in their power to not do anything. To be honest, Williams felt responsible for their behaviour. He had taught this class when they were in grade 10, and felt as if he could have done more for them back then.
Suddenly, they slipped through the doorway and slammed it shut. The room fell quiet except for a few pieces of paper blown off the shelf next to the door. Williams didn’t bother getting up to sort them out, he’d do that in a few minutes. Right now he simply laid back in his chair, stretched his arms tall and let out a heavy sigh. Then, he leaned forward in his chair, feeling his stomach lurch. Covering his face, he quietly cried.