Rash Unreason & Ashley Kerrington

OOC Date: June 11 - July 1
IC Date: June 11, 2010

Detention Hall

This was designed to be a lecture hall, but after the construction was complete it was instead determined to be much more suitable for in-school detention. Students found to be unruly are sent here for punishment where they are expected to work quietly on their school work. The room is not always manned by a staffer, but on the occasion it is not it is periodically checked in on.

It's been a rather long week, and there is but one left until the students leave the hallways of Seaside High for another Summer of sun, surf and non-school fun. Though there are still some rules, and then there are the rule breakers. Rule breakers are to be punished, and since the year is closing, the price for skipping detention has grown to be more severe than just a slap on the wrist. There are debts and pipers to be paid, so the lecture hall— on this fine Friday after school— is packed almost tighter than a classroom.

Delinquents and slackers and the occasional tardy infringing student are all present for these few hours of staff imposed lock-down. All awaiting their jailer for the afternoon, knowing that it probably isn't going to be very pleasant. Who will it be? Browne? Carter? Or maybe they'll get lucky and get Love.

"Thank you again for accepting the responsibility. If anyone gives you any trouble, don't hesitate to call." Mr. Alexander handed over a folder of papers across the desk, smiling to the young lady standing there.

Ashley. Nichole. Kerrington. The self-proclaimed Princess of Seaside high has just been given a sliver of power. Oh, this can /not/ be good. It can only end in tears, or possibly blood.. only time will tell.

"Thank you, Mr. Alexander. I'm sure everything will be just fine. You can count on me," she gives the devil's own smile, "And I hope Mr. Carter is feeling better tomorrow. I'll send flowers, he'll like that." Pushing her hair back over her ear, holding the folder against her chest, the girl gives a nod of her head to the principal, "Thanks again." she waves and heads out.

It is a long, quiet walk to the detention hall, like a warden stepping through the corridors of the jail. The click of her expensive shoes rhythmically hitting the floor until she reaches the doorway. A moment of hesitation in reaching for it, Ashley ensures that everything is in order before she risks stepping into the lion's den. This isn't going to be a walk in the park. Not for a normal person at least. But his is Ashley Nichole Kerrington. She cannot fail.

It probably should be packed, but unsupervised youth do as they do, and by the rolling around of 3:00 most of the detentions detainee list has dwindled down to the few delinquents that can’t afford to yet another annoyed principal call to their parents.

Of course, it should not go unsaid that even this handful of students are not without their own destructive distractions. A couple practice the very acts of affections that placed them in the after-school lock-down. Sucking face, by definition, is currently being made an Olympic sport in the farthest back corner. To the right near the windows a handful, roughly 5 boys, can be found crowded over something or another, though the distinct scent of formaldehyde presents the idea that the science lab is down one frog. The center of the room is scattered with sleepers and texters, chatters and even one or two that seem to be existing on the edge of a high, merely present in body, and absent in most other senses. Ashley should have no issues with these teens. Of course their presence gives way to one other occupied desk. To the left, diagonal from the teachers desk and up front rests Teague, a foot rested top the desk as he flips lazily though a book.

His eyes trained firmly on the text before him, there is the mildest expression of aggravation playing across his features as the group of teens snicker and chatter amongst themselves, not to mention the occasional gag from the boys as the form of a kidney slips and slides from one side of the desks to the other.

She could be on the beach, soaking in the rays, taking in the surf and sipping on something red and fruity right now… Ooh. That's not a bad idea. We'll make that for tomorrow, how does that sound? Sounds like a winner to her. But duty calls. One must endure such trials if they are to ascend into greatness. Into the fray, Lady Kerrington.

After a few minutes outside, the door opens, and a familiar voice drifts into the room that should likely make Teague cringe, and believe that the world has no justice. Or rather, the justice of the world is a cruel, cruel thing indeed. Meant to make him suffer because it has some personal grudge against him. "Hey Ben, it's Ash. I know you're off saving the world and stuff right now, but I just wanted to let you know that I'm on detention duty for the day. I won't be home until a bit later, so you can call Dean and let him know. I don't feel like dealing with The Crowned Prince at the moment." She enters, her backpack slung over one shoulder, folders in one hand while she leaves her voicemail message. Today she has gone with a white spaghetti strapped girl's camis, embroidered with sequins, leaving her shoulders bare, as well as greater portion of her back, along with a pleated, plaid skirt of various blues. Stepping over to the sign in sheet, she drops her back next to her seat for the next few hours, and she lifts the first paper, noticing that there are quite a few names missing.

"Anyway, we have to get our heads together tonight and plan this party if it's gonna happen. I have the fliers and I've invited a few people already, but we need to solidify some official stuff so I can get the caterers and the DJ and all that so—" She freezes in her tracks, catching a signature that makes her hair stand on end. Seriously? He actually showed? Of all the times for him /not/ to skip detention! Okay Ash, you can deal with him. This is just another test of your responsibility and patience, right? "I'll call you later." she says irritably, hanging up the phone. She finally graces the delinquents with her precious gaze, looking at the group gathered, and more specifically, one in particular. One could almost see his name leave her lips with contempt. The war has begun.


Yet she doesn't say it. Tossing the phone on the desk with a clatter, Ashley steps around in front of it, leaning against the center, planting her hands on either side of her while she addresses the prisoners in that special Ashley Kerrington way. Her bi-colored eyes look from one to the other, while she harbors an almost condescending expression. Just short of a type of sneer, but not quite that obvious. She takes a breath in, and then speaks.

"I've been asked to fill in due to Mr. Carter striking ill. I'm not sure how he normally runs things? Or if all of you are new to this detention thing.." waving her hands about, dismissively as if this 'detention thing' were something so beneath her.. Which it is. She stops there though for a second, and she settles her eyes on Teague, giving a sarcastic smirk, and a nasal 'hmph' as if to say, 'Yeah right'. After which, she cuts her eyes away and pulls from the desk, slowly wandering with an air of dictation about her, no longer make eye contact while she speaks, removing the personal aspect of conversation and exerting a tactic of mass authority. "But we're gonna run a much tighter ship today. How's that.." she wrinkles her nose, grinning. Her hands lift and she waves to gesture for the pair necking in the back to split apart. "Break it up please, you two? Make your own adult movie on your own time. Not mine. No chatting, no texting, no sleeping, and definitely no.. whatever that smell is back there. All of you just sit in your seats.. QUIETLY, and serve your time. Sorta like Mr. Edwards, really, who obviously has this little routine down pat." Her eyes moving to fall upon Teague.

She makes it to the 'throne' for the next few hours and has a seat. "Feet off the desk, Edwards. Sit up right and read." is her final offhanded command.

Its amazing how one simple name can cause someone such mental duress. He doesn’t even have to try and she’s already managed to work herself into a bitchie, mind-clinching fit, if only in her head. He’s not shocked really. Girls like her are a dime a dozen, regardless of what she may think. One day he’ll explain it, but for now Teague listens as she begins to issue her orders, his lips drawing into a deep, lighthearted smirk as he listens to the room…do nothing.

That’s the thing about bad kids. They are there *because* they don’t listen. If a teacher and the principal couldn’t make them follow rules, a fellow student, especially one that carries herself like she’s better than them, doesn’t stand a ghost of a chance at getting their respect. There is a reason that people say it, that prisons are run by the prisoners, not the wardens.

Still, being the sweet, kindhearted and compassionate thing that he is, Teague allows Ashley her small power trip, only to fail at stifling his chuckle moments later. He also levels his gaze on her, cool, calm, and unmotivated, over the edge of the book. “Tell me when the gravity of the situation finally gets to you.” Coupled with the wink he sends her and the slightly teasing tone he offers, Teague almost manages to come off as smug. Almost, but not quiet.

Returning to his book, he flips the page, while in the pack of the room the couple merely offer a hiss of muffled curses toward the teen. The group in the middle…who are technically doing just as she wishes, remain still, while the boys continue to slice, dice, and play in the liquefying toad on the desk. This most defiantly is not a tea party.

*sigh* Figures. She actually didn't believe that would work very well, but she at least had to give it a shot. She was given the job of watching the monkeys in the cage, not organizing them. Maybe if they had fitted them with shock collars and gave her a button, it would have been more effective.. And amusing. She imagines Edwards would be able to power a small football stadium by the time she was done bashing the button on him. The world could only be so perfect..

She rolls her eyes and relieves her lungs of an exasperated puff of air, just reaching down to flip open the flap of her backpack and pulling out the expensive Alienware laptop with a silver casing, and a pink oval shaped, globe eyed alien in the center. Responsibility is hell, sometimes. It isn't always a walk in the park, and sometimes one has to do things they don't always want to do.

She tries her best not to let Teague's words get to her, though something he says registers in her logical mind. While she waits for her computer to load up, Ashley tilts back her head just enough so that she is gazing up at the ceiling, her eyes squinting in a thoughtful narrow, starting to come to a revelation and a conclusion. Oh. My. God. In some twisted little way, Little Miss Perfect has wound herself up in detention. While her academic record will record this as doing a service for the faculty, she is stuck here, with them, with very little control over the situation, other than possibly giving them another day's worth of this prison or so. Damnit.. She'll take what she can get, but it still brings Ashley Kerrington to a height of vexation.

What makes this worse is, she is stuck here, with HIM. And he know it. Look at him! So smug.. so.. so.. WhatEVER..

Ashley reaches down and pulls open a drawer at the desk, snatching up the sign in sheet a little more briskly than she should in her annoyed state, letting it noisily slam on the desk right in front of her. Detention slips. Plucking her favorite pink pen, she begins to fill them out, marking down names of those listed, starting with Edwards.

Wait a second.. A little fabrication.. something a bit more severe other than just insubordination: Possibly some drug trafficking for Teague, because let's face it. He probably has some hidden on his /somewhere/. Indecent exposure for the couple that sees fit continue their little exhibitionist's session, possession of weapon for the off the clock science students.. Her word over theirs. Why, with the proper wording and placement of untrue facts, she could possibly bring them far more severe punishments than just this little wrist slap. Hmm..

Ashley is thinking. It's written all over her face. She sits there, pen tap-tap-tapping on the slip of paper, just at the start of the section that reads Offense. Would she be so wicked as to do something so heinous, spiteful, and petty? Mm. Who knows.. She starts writing, filling in the slips with her decision. Just smirking herself all the while that her pen wiggles and draws the perfect script.

"So.. what'd you do this time, Edwards? And why did you actually decide to show up? Not trying to turn around that life of yours and actually attempt at being a well behaved human being are you?" She divides her attention of addressing him while she writes. "I'd actually be mildly surprised if that were the case."

Curiouser and Curiouser. How do these situations find their way to fruition? Once more, how does karma come to the determination that placing Teague into a small room with Princess Priss-Puss is possibly a productive act?

Teague flips the page of his book, though as he does so, his eyes do turn up from his book, peering over the rim of the cover to watch the girl and her obnoxiously girlie computer. Go figure it’d be pink, though the brand isn’t too shocking. It also brings a smile to his lips before, with a chuckle, he merely shakes his head and lowers his gaze back to his book, some thought clearly going unsaid for the moment.

In the back of the room, the couple has calmed down, and while sucking face and dry humping no longer seem to be of interest, the girl remains fixed in the boys lap as they emerge into deep, whispered conversation.

In the right corner the boys have calmed down, though there is the faint sound of sloshing and muttered gasps as they tinker and play, but at least for the moment they are calm and as Ashley shuts her yap, the room reaches a low hum of lowly spoken conversation, rather than a dull roar of rebellious, angry youth.

As Ashley speaks, however, Teague’s concentration is once more cast to the wind. His brows furrow, his eyes narrow, and he bites back the clear desire to snap back at her. He bites it back successfully, which seems rather shocking to even himself for the moment. “I got in a fight.” He admits a few seconds later, his tone low and hushed, as if he didn’t so much care if she heard him. Really, just speaking was an act of charitable politeness, used to inflict aggravation and intolerance from the venomous teen at the teachers desk. “And I always show up. Check my record.” Should she check his record, there is a remarkable, impeccable listing of appearances from the boy. Most for fighting or tardiness. A few for back-talking teachers. Mostly however, fighting seems to be Teague’s habitual sin.

“Anyway, who are you to tell me I need to fix anything about myself?” and as if to prove his point, his book is lowered before he smirks deeply, “Verse 262. Not by mere eloquence nor by beauty of form does a man become accomplished, if he is jealous, selfish and deceitful.” Glancing upward Teague’s blue eyes catch an almost teasing light before he lowers them again, his lips licked lazily before he sinks back into his chair again.

Right. Just when she had given up trying to assert some form of order and authority do they actually settle into more of a normal, structured ideal of detention. Nevermind the hushed conversation, but at least they're not a loud as they were. Somewhere, within little chest of hers, beats a heart that isn't completely made of ice. She has a conscience, and she can feel guilty about things, regardless of her rather stuffy nature and materialistic, rich girl ways. Perhaps Ashley's problem is that she tries to be too many things at once. Or just part of the problem. Either way, she abandons her current action, sighing through her teeth while scooping the detention slips off of the desk, and into the trash. Act of kindness done for the day. Spare them the slight wrath of Ashley Kerrington.

She drops her pen on the desk, while the tense, hissy demeanor refuses to leave her. She is out of her element, and among people that more than likely hate her on principle alone, not to mention her judgmental ways. Teague could probably take some small joy in the fact that the girl is just a wee bit uncomfortable in the position that she has been placed in, but from the looks of it, she is doing her best not to let it show.

Control. She doesn't have it, and that is driving her insane at the present time. How does Dean do it so well? She can't really bring herself to understand it. Whatever. Just.. occupy yourself, Ash. Load up your chess program, and battle with the AI for a while until all of this is over.

Teague's chuckle causes the girl to lift her eyes and glare at him, ruefully. "What?" she asks him, wanting to know just what it is that he finds so funny. "Ugh.. whatever.." she abandons the notion, and rolls her eyes, turning her attention back to her laptop. It's almost ready to go. Awaiting her personalized imprint to unlock Windows 7. Ashley takes her finger and rubs it down the little scanner in the corner, a little ding of affirmation a few seconds later indicating that it was accepted.

A fight. Hmm. Ashley has never been in one of those. She always had brothers to take care of her physical battles. Her bright eyes lift to stare at him from over the rim of her computer screen, while her fingers roll and work to open the appropriate applications. "With who? Why?" She can ask! If they're gonna be stuck there for a few hours, maybe they could at least talk somewhat civilly rather than shoot glares and insults back and forth, resulting in him raising her ire enough for her to hurl a pencil at him like a throwing knife across the room.

"Hm.." she intones, hearing him read from the book that he holds within his hands. It sounds familiar, she doesn't immediately pull the title from her head, but she knows she heard it somewhere. With a few key strokes, she discovers where. Pursing her lips and nodding her head. "Mm. Kay. I'd go back a verse and highlight that, since we're pointing fingers." she tells him.

“One in whom there is truthfulness, virtue, inoffensiveness, restraint and self-mastery, who is free from defilements and is wise — he is truly called an Elder?” Color Teague unsure as to just how that particular verse is relevant. Even his expression carries the tone in his voice, his eyes curiously watching Ashley before he flips a page forward, eyeing it before a small nod sounds into his voice. “I think you need to read your goggle document closer. What you’re probably looking for is 270. He is not noble who injures living beings. He is called noble because he is harmless towards all living beings.” Again, his tone lowers before he returns to reading, though there is the distinct hesitation to each shift of his eyes that says without a doubt that he is having a hard time ignoring the introduction of conversation.

He’s Teague Edwards. He loves the sound of his own voice as much as any other 17 year old. “Football player. We had a difference of opinion about something. I dealt with it…just not exactly in the most productive manner, I admit, but I have a medical issue that makes it very hard to ignore some things. I’m allergic to stupid.”

He glances up again at that, watching her poke at her computer before he allows a faint yawn to break his silence. “And anyway, the Dhammapada isn’t about pointing fingers. It’s a teaching aid. It betters the reader’s soul. It’s like poetry for people that need to learn how to be human.” Whatever that means, regardless he doesn’t seem to be pointing fingers at all. “It’s impossible to read it and not see glimpse of other people. Just as hard to not see yourself.” A shrug of his shoulder sounds the end of his commentary, as does the turning f a page before he leans back in his chair. His feet return to the desk, and for the moment he seems content to read. But only for a moment. “What did you expect? To hear I beat on a girl? Or that I had drugs on campus?” his eyes arch up over the edge of his pages for the moment, blue eyes resting firmly on her face from his position a stones toss away.

Her opinion and interpretation of the verse she was speaking about would make it relevant to the situation at hand. Eye of the beholder and all. It's like that way with some songs, Ashley hears the lyrics, and they are meant a specific way, yet she reads into it, viewing things from another perspective, hearing things differently than their intended implication. Reading that verse she had made her own assumptions about him.. what little she actually knows of him that is.

What separates Teague from Ashley the most is the social barrier that has been set in place by her family line. In terms of intelligence, skill and other notable virtues, Teague might very well be acceptable, and a decent person to actually get to know. But his lifestyle was one that was forbidden for her kind. But as she got older, Ashley was starting to question as to why that was. Secretly.. VERY secretly, Ashley loves things that contain imperfections. Imperfections induce her curiosity to seek answers. The quest to find causes of these imperfections is a journey full of excitement. This was also why she couldn't leave Teague alone.

But she lives in a world of 'don't ask, just do as you're asked.' And that could very well be the why she clings so hard to the way she is. To try with all of her might not to step outside of the box of what is expected of her.

"That one applies too, if you're talking about the fighting thing. That's not what I meant though. But it's not important." Still, behind the privacy of her upper screen, Ashley logs on to Amazon, and places a tome into her shopping cart for later.

"That's not a medical condition. That's a behavioral issue. 'Restraint. Self-mastery'. The opposite of 'virtue' is vice." The girl points out, letting her eyes meet his as she revisits her point in directing him to the verse she had indicated. "What's the definition of vice?" her smirk isn't exactly smug, but it is an accomplished look.

She pulls up her chess game in the other window, starting up a match, though she finds it hard pressed to keep her focus upon it, rather than joining in the conversation with the insufferable boy. "I dunno, Teague." Hm. A first name. Did she even realize she called him that? Probably not. But the look on her face would show just smidgen of sarcastic undertones garnished atop of it. "Maybe. You're unpredictable, and a criminal, so.. Who knows what you'll do. I sure as heck don't know you any more than you know me. I only see what you wanna show the world. Things that earn you a place in here everyday." Though her eyes do sever the link to his gaze, returning to her screen for the moment. Her finger coming to rest at the spaghetti strap to her outfit, busying the idle portion of her mind with playing against the fabric, twirling it around the digit this way and that.

Teague rolls his eyes lazily before returning his gaze to the book, flipping a page only to pause a few moments later. His gaze shifts, turning upward toward the top of the doorway, though his gaze reaches well beyond. He’s thinking, but only for a moment before his grin slowly works its way back into place, showing off his dimples and an expression that reads ‘I am a cocky asshole’ with near perfection. “Vice, a serious moral failing. An evil, degrading, or immoral practice or habit. Or,” he then begins before turning his gaze over her. “in some cultures the term can also mean sexual immorality.” He winks once, before sending a gaze over his shoulder toward the couple who have since returned to their devout tongue twisting, and then toward the frog mutilating delinquents. “I’m actually pretty sure that for once, the definition of vice is better not wasted on myself.” He’s just sayin.

But back to the girl, his gaze merely flickers over her as his text draws him back in, “Calling virtue and vice into a conversation is fairly hypocritical. You hardly define virtue. Then again, neither do I. I suppose one would be hard pressed to find a suited soul in this godforsaken hellhole.” And judging by his tone, he seems to mean Seaside, not detention or the school. He also lets his tone weigh heavy with the tone of dismissal related to the idea. “Everyone’s sleeping with someone’s wife or selling grandma’s china for something to take the edge off the silver lining.” Regardless, his phone sounds a few seconds later, snapping him from his philosophical moment and back to the real world. Tugging the device from his pocket he sets his eyes on the screen before, with a sigh, he tucks it onto his desk, dismissively.

"No." Ashley agrees, "Not /now/. You're behaving. But that doesn't change your behavior… Overall." She had really forgotten that the other people were even present. She tends to do that quite a bit. She lifts her eyes up from her computer screen, and trains them on him, just as he did her. "Besides, I'm quite sure you have stock in the sexual immorality department." She sniffs ones, and scratches the bridge of her nose, "Trust me when I tell you this, Edwards. There is very little you could do that would surprise me." She comments dryly. And the look on her face would be a severe indication that she probably means it.

Ashley was the youngest of the Kerrington Clan, and of the trio. She isn't nearly as ruthless as Dean, and not close to being as sappy and compassionate as Benton. She is mostly split right down the middle, with stronger Dean influence packed away in the perfect little pretty parcel that is Ashley. Though she has to admit one thing. While Teague is a criminal, he has intelligence. She can internally respect that, so long as her inner thoughts do not become her outer.

"Anyways.." she flutters her hand about like she is dismissing the day. And then she gets quiet. The girl softly chews on her bottom lip, "Why?" comes her question, it's simple enough. "What changed or happened to make you like.. like the way you are? What is it that made you go from nice guy, to jerk in just a course of few years?" She returns her general attention back on the computer screen. "Don't have to answer if you don't want. Just a general curiosity, that is all." And she places her next move upon the computer chess game, causing the AI to have to rethink it's strategy and adapt. She was intrigued, to say the least. This could be some big insight to the socially damaged boy.

Teague snots lightly as Ashley speaks, his gaze narrowing back toward his book as he tilts his chair back softly on the back legs. “What do you know about my overall behavior, Kerrington? You don’t know me. All you know are rumors, and believe me when I say, rumors are a very very poor choice of evidence into the real world. Everyone has something to say about someone, and everyone has something to add to the last scandal they heard about. By the time it gets around it’s been magnified by ten.”

His eyes cut up toward her, but only for a moment before he gives his lips a small lick and turns a page. “I’m not saying I’m innocent. I’m not. I fair on the weakness of my fellow students. But at the same time, can you /really/ say you’re morally better than I am? And let’s be honest princess. You’re reputation isn’t much better than mine.”

Being popular and rich is not the path to actual popularity. In fact it’s a social path to destruction, its just longer and has more turns.

He falls silent at that, returning to his book, ignoring the repetitive buzz of his phone against his desk. That is, until he’s had time to mull over her newest question. The question itself brings a small hesitation to his expression, seen clearly in his eyes and along his jaw, which tightens in the blink of a second before he sounds off. “What changed to make me like I am?” First comes the question, chuckled against a strained voice. “Who is to say anything changed? When you’re little things are different even in the same situations. We get older, and things fall into place. Every life is unique in the aspect that life in itself sucks. We make of it what we will. Nothing more, nothing less. I am what my life made me.” He offers a shrug, “And according to you, life made me scum. I suppose that I have to live with that.”

"I'm going by what I /used/ to know about you, Edwards. You know.. before high school? Or do you not remember that far back?" For a few seconds, she glares at him over top of her computer screen. There is a struggle behind the eyes of Ashley Kerrington as she watches him, and then a final decision. Those eyes of hers roll upwards, and she gives an audible 'tch' "Whatever.. I'm over it.." the girl purses her lips and shakes her head. Why she even tries, she'll never know. Sometimes it doesn't pay to be nice to people. Or what Ashley considers to be nice. Actually, she had really just been trying to fill in the time that seems to be ticking rather slowly. She thought she was doing a 'civil service' but thanks to Teague, it's become a sentence.

"You judge me just as harshly as I judge you, so there isn't any room for /you/ to talk either. But hey.." she bats her eyes sarcastically at him, "You hate me, I guess I hate you… I guess that's how it's gonna be, right?" and then she mutters something very low under her breath. Though her face would indicate that Ashley has a different feeling than what she had just said.

Teague’s eyes roll as he listens. “Actually, no Ashley. You’re the one that came in slinging insults today. I haven’t picked a single fight with you. You’re the one treating people like parasites, not me. You’re the one being shamelessly judgmental. I’m responding, but if you MUST know I don’t hate you, but I am growing increasingly indifferent toward you by the second. You asked a question and I gave you an answer. Being haughty and self-important doesn’t make you any better than me. If anything it proves an unspoken point.” And to think for a moment he’d thought they were getting somewhere. Just for a moment.

One moment to much, it would seem passes before Teague finds his teeth gritting. She’d gone and blown his zen like a freshman whore on prom night. “And that’s plenty of this for me.” Standing, he moves to grab his bag, dropping the book into it before he turns to glance back toward the tongue tango in the corner and the scientists to the right. “Write what you want on my slip. I don’t care” With school so close to an end it will likely be lost in paperwork anyway, but he doesn’t seem to have that on mind. If anything he sounds…tired. “Have a nice day.” Ashley has effectively ran the hood away. Course, the hood isn’t moving all so fast himself.

Ashley, however is moving fast. For the moment, there are not words expressed by the girl, yet her actions don't need any words to fly right now. Her jaw is set firmly, and her face becomes a deep, long scowl. Those glossed lips of hers come to purse together and then the slam of her laptop going closed. She spins on her heels and practically rips the power cord out of the wall, not bothering to wrap it up as she stuff it into her backpack, along with the remainder of her things. Her actions are rather hasty, far past a small vexation that she is aught to do. Ashley is pissed.

After stuffing her things into her bag and zipping it up, the girl simply turns toward the door. "You can all go home. Count one day off of you sentence." she speaks, her tone possessing a certain distaste on her tongue, and still she refuses to look at and acknowledge any of them. Teague especially. One thing is for certain.

Ashley is done.

No.. you know what? Forget that! Teague is stupid! She blames him for a lot of things. She doesn't know exactly why but he frustrates her to absolutely no end. He walks around like he's king in his own right, and he has the nerve to call HER out like that? Where the heck does he get off? She hasn't come this far, gotten such good grades, been on her best behavior and upheld a certain reputation for someone like his to make /her/ feel inferior! Frickin Edwards! Argh!

Her hand picks up the first thing that is reasonably heavy enough to fly across the room off of the desk and on an impulse, she hurls it at him. That's right.. she THROWS things. Not the most mature of responses, but Teague just makes her SO mad..

Teague would have given Ashley credit for many things. Being snobby, sure. Making good grades, yeah. Residing in a state of assumed specialness that the rest of the world isn’t aware of? Absolutely. But would Teague have ever given Ashley credit for being irrationally violent? Never.

It should come as no surprise to onlookers then, when a hurled stapler sales towards the back of his head, its path ready set by the girls temper tantrum. Teague never saw it coming.


The stapler connects with the back of his head, drawing a loud yell from the boy before he lurches forward into the hallway. Not to say he loses his balance. He doesn’t but he does do the next best thing. He begins a barrage of screaming and cursing that no doubt has the nuns three miles down the street blushing and begging penitence for his soul. Luckily, the only teacher in the building at the moment is Ms. Fry, and she’s been stricken selectively deaf over her years of teaching. She doesn’t even make an appearance until Teague turns to slam his back against the lockers, causing a loud pop of metal to bring the aging teacher skittering from the teacher’s lounge, her eyes wide and her claws drawn. (Apparently she might be willing to protect her band of delinquent students if need be). Luckily, there is no disturbance to be seen, just Teague Edwards (cue the mental sigh from Fry) slumping against a locker as he rubs at the back of his head. And of course, there’s the small crowd of other delinquents slowly slipping closer to the boy as they turn surprised and baneful looks toward the classroom door, no doubt expecting a second explosion from one of the two (be it Ashley or Teague) at any second.

It doesn’t come. What does come is the frail, red-haired lady prepared to face down a fight. Instead she gets a bleeding Teague who looks more dazed than pained. Maybe Ashley knocked the mean out of him? Maybe she disconnected his hair-trigger temper.

“Mr. Edwards!” Spotting the blood, the teachers eyes widen and she quickly turns to cast her gaze over the small group of students who appear stricken mute with the appearance of the teacher. “Oh…oh my! Oh my! How did this happen?” Clearly teachers are not trained to deal with bullied bullies.

Teague only shrugs as a reply to the teachers words, though he does narrow his eyes toward Ashley within the class room. If looks could kill… Still he says nothing about the stapler, which rests at his feet. The cold, blue and white metal body of proof to the assault. “I lost my balance.” He admits finally, and while he doesn’t pour much in the way of believability into his words, he at least sends the others a stern glance, demanding silence (and hoping they give it to him.) He isn’t so ignorant to think he can control other teens. Especially after the display a few seconds ago. “I hit my head..I’m ok.” He reaches back again to touch at the cut, cringing slowly before finally allowing a laugh. “You wanna call my mom or should I?”

As dumb of a comment as it is, and as out of the blue as it probably sounds, Ms. Fry appears to pale considerably at the mention of the phone call, though after a few small mutters she turns on her heels to head for the lounge again, no doubt to make a call that she dreads. It leaves Teague alone again, as he would prefer it, as the other students slowly file away lost in mutters and whispers.

Teague merely waits where he stands as Fry makes her call. Ashley has officially ruined his day, and she doesn’t even know it.

Ashley is probably more surprised that she did it more than Teague is. The girl stands there, looking shocked at the result of her attack on the frustrating boy. The beer was one thing, but the stapler was a step beyond. With her hand covering her mouth and her eyes wide and unblinking, Ashley watches the boy stumble about, wounded and dazed.

She catches his glare, and for just an instant, she is taken aback. And then the Kerrington nerves of steel take over, and she is frowning. He.. he had it coming! He's had it coming for a while now! Dean would be proud of her! Benton might say it was a little wrong, but he'd be on board because Ashley can do no wrong! And now he's looking at her like she did something terrible!? And what's up with him covering for her? He's not gonna tell, this is the perfect opportunity for him to try and get her in a spot of trouble. The moment he's been waiting for. And he isn't taking it? Unbelievable! How DARE he think this makes him a better person!

She isn't sticking around to let him gloat or say something that might make her feel like she was anyway at fault for what happened. Picking up her bag and clutching it close to her chest, Ashley steps out of the room and quickly makes her way down the hallway. She doesn't dare look back.

How dare Edwards rile her to resort to such methods! It was ALL his fault!

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