SIGNS & WONDERS

— where everything was fiction, future and prediction, now where am i? kevin shah. 18. devil's knot.

[kevshah]

David bit back a frown as he watched Kevin’s face harden. He shouldn’t have joked about that, not right now, maybe not ever. He didn’t know the other male well enough to do something like that and even if he did, Devil’s Knot wasn’t the type of place that enjoyed those jokes. Watching as Kevin took a step back, David mirrored him, also backing away slightly. “Yeah man. Sorry about that.” He replied hastily, throwing his hands up in surrender. He definitely wouldn’t say no to getting high, especially not after the events of the last week. Shoving his hands in his pockets again. “I’d definitely be down for that if you are.”

That’s how Kevin finds himself sitting in his car on a tucked-away edge of the forest with David Goode in his passenger seat. He avoids looking at him, lighting up the joint instead, closing his eyes as he inhales and tips his head back into the headrest. He holds out the joint to David without opening his eyes. If he can’t see a David Goode, is a David Goode really there? The whole situation is pretty surreal, but not any moreso than the events of the past week. Christ. A missing child. That’s why they’re here, in the most fucked up plot twist of their young adult lives.

The thought sends another pang of-- well, pity, through him, and he almost says something, but he’s done everything he can, hasn’t he? Talking isn’t going to do any good for either of them; it would probably be kinder if he just shut up, rather than trying to engage the guy in some painfully dry chitchat. Still, he can’t help himself. The awkwardness creeps up on him (along with, well, the weed) and he’s talking before he realizes he’s opened his mouth. “So, come around here often?” Wow. There he goes once again, saying things before he realizes how they sound. Amazing how that’s never seemed to stop him before, but at least he’ll soon be high enough to not give a shit. “The woods, I mean. Or random dudes’ cars. Whatever.”

[kevshah]

Stan was lost, as writers often are. Lost in ideas, in worlds, in what could be and what indeed isn’t. Sure he was a teacher, and a good one at that, but he wasn’t so far gone that it was the only way he saw life. He still believed he could become a writer, a dim as the idea grew when the years continued to run on by as if taunting him on his slow progress. The desire burnt, deep within him, a furnace running out of fuel. In all honesty, he sometimes hoped he died before the flames ended, and he would be left with nothing but the cold hard reality of his failure.

So there he sat, pen in hand, jotting down on a pad as if sheer will alone would make what was put down good. The sound of the classroom door was an unwelcome distraction and an abrupt reminder that he had forgotten a meeting today. He let out a soft breath and looked up, blinking for a moment at the sight of Kevin but quickly placing his pen down and offering a smile. “Oh, Mister Shah, it’s good to see you.”

“Take a seat” He glanced around a moment before gesturing rather idly at some of the desks. His mind was still swirling with the muse that had swept him up, and his gaze was a little distracted, but he kept his focus on his student as best he could.

“So, the paper. You have the floor first.” Stan murmured the words with mild humour and a small wink to encourage the student. In truth, he was already sold on the paper, partly because of Kevin and furthermore just because it seemed like the sort of thing that may wake this sleepy town. There was nothing to stir up emotions and get the truth out than some gung-ho students with an eye for that sort of thing. And Kevin was a good kid. That said, Stan was in no doubt that part of the kid’s passion for the project was due to how things would look on his college app. He knew because that’s precisely how he’d think about it at that age.

“Well, I wanted to get a gauge of your interest in the whole shindig, since to get anything off the ground we’d need a teacher advisor. With your experience with writing and publishing, well,” he shrugged, trying not to lay anything on too thick, but Stan being the obvious choice is as good as implied. “I think it could be a really great project. As long as you’re cool playing emissary with the school board.”

Kevin leans back in his chair. He can’t help the feeling of being in a job interview, though he doesn’t know who’d be the interviewer or interviewee in this situation. Formality isn’t really his thing, and he’s always felt somewhat awkward talking to teachers, but he’s aware that the project he’s proposing could turn out to be... a lot of work. He thinks he’s made the right bet with asking Stan, who he’d clocked pretty quickly as one of those teachers into “inspiring young voices” or whatever. Still, he wants to make sure they’re on the same page, before they waste anyone's time. “It could be... pretty challenging,” he admits. “Obviously I’ve never been on the other side of an admin meeting, but I doubt the school’s going to be super into free speech and open dialogue right about now. And it’s not like Michigan public schools are known for having tons of money lying around for additional arts programming. There’s a chance this whole thing just turns out to be a big pain in the ass.” Once again, formality failed. Oops. Well, if they’re going to be potentially spending a lot of time together, he might as well lower those expectations sooner rather than later. “Like, a crash-and-burn failure. But it could also be really cool, if we can make it work.”

[brooke-youngblood]

Devil in Dr Martens ~ Kevin & Brooke

@kevshah

The growling sound of the engine of her Chevy Impala sounded as Brooke pulled into the school parking lot. Few of the other students looked up as the engine idled for a second before she cut it off. Most people recognised the noise so clearly that they knew Brooke had arrived before she could get out of the car. The matte black colour of it, mainly due to the age of the vehicle and levels of dirt, was like a shark swimming around in a tank with coloured fish. Brooke grabbed her bag and pushed the car door open.

Today she was sporting black denim jeans, the bottoms were cut off, and she wore a purple and navy plaid flannel shirt along with her signature black Doc Martens. Shrugging into her puffer coat, her dark eyes scanned the crowd. She couldn’t see anyone of her usual group, though that were only two people out of the whole school.  Slinging her backpack over her shoulder, she walked towards the school. Just as she was about to enter the building, someone caught her eye. He was walking towards the entrance of the school as well. His hair caught her attention, more so the fact that it could give hers a run for its money with its length and shampoo ad worthy volume, the hidden depths of chocolate brown catching the morning light. Brooke’s eyelids shimmered purple under the sunlight as she watched him. Looking down at her boots, she pushed all thoughts away in her mind. She was just going to focus on her school work and work so she could the get the hell out of here. As Brooke looked up, she realised too late that she was getting in very close proximity to the guy she’d just been watching. 

“Hey! Watch out where you’re going!” Her long bob swished around as she met his eyes. Her tone was rough and unforgiving, mostly to cover up her embarrassment. 

“There’s enough space for everyone on this sidewalk, no need to take mine.”

[kevshah]

Kevin is aware of Brooke Youngblood in the same way he's aware of all the other students on the social outskirts of the school, though Brooke has always seemed like her own intense brand of pariah. In all their years of school together he’s never really known what to make of her, choppy hair and a perpetually unsmiling expression that inspires some of the darkest rumors around school. Still, something about her always seems to him like she's trying a little too hard to not fit in, to signal that she's different from the rest of them. It's better than the alternative-- sucking up to the cheerleaders, doing everything it took to fade into the background of their school, whatever. But it still feels like some sort of pose, and he can't be completely sure what kind of person Brooke really is underneath it.

He’s seen her around with Pete, at least, which bodes well for her. He probably wouldn’t be friends with someone who was a complete asshole, right? Still, as Brooke scowls at him from the sidewalk in front of the school, Kevin wonders what he did to make her look at him like this, as if he’d personally ruined her day. Damn, she must have a short fuse-- or maybe it's another pose? The angry girl, who doesn’t let others push her around, even if she’s the one to push them first? Whatever her deal is, it’s not his responsibility to figure it out this early in the morning, so he steps aside and gestures for her to go ahead like some chauffeur in an old-timey movie. Better to bow out gracefully than get riled up over a stupid piece of sidewalk, and learn the hard way whether the girl’s as tough as she looks.

“No problem, riot girl. Be my guest.” He shrugs his backpack on higher on his shoulders, and knows he should probably stop there, but he can’t help himself. “In a hurry to get to Calculus today? Or do you know something I don’t?”

[kevshah]

CHAPTER ONE, TASK TWO: sympathy for the devil (or, Kevin's official alibi)

“Never for one minute have I taken you for reality,” Ivan cried with a sort of fury. “You are a lie, you are my illness, you are a phantom. It's only that I don't know how to destroy you and I see I must suffer for a time. You are my hallucination. You are the incarnation of myself, but only of one side of me ... of my thoughts and feelings, but only the nastiest and stupidest of them. From that point of view you might be of interest to me, if only I had time to waste on you—”

Kevin had promised himself he’d finish The Brothers Karamazov before the winter, or at least before the first snow settled in Devil’s Knot. It was both a romantic notion and a pragmatic one: there’s no point reading about freezing to death in the middle of a Midwestern summer heatwave, when the idea of a winter storm's about as foreign as an alien planet. On the flipside, reading Russian lit in the throes of a Michigan winter, when just getting his ass to school on time is a misery in itself-- it's just not practical. Life’s too fucking depressing as it is; no need to get the Russians involved.

On the afternoon of the younger Goode's disappearance, Kevin's plodding his way through another chapter about Ivan, the middle son (and resident atheist), who at the moment is mid-conversation with the Devil (possibly related to his current affliction with "brain fever".) As it turns out, the devil is an atheist. He’s also come down with a bad case of rheumatism. “I put on fleshly form, and I take the consequences.” Kevin can sympathize.

A few hours in and his attention is waning; he knows because he catches himself eyeing the spine to check how much book is left. He rolls on his back and stares up at the ceiling instead. Nothing else in the house moves, not to breathe or stretch. Kelly and his parents have left, giving him an entire uninterrupted afternoon of peace and quiet, which is probably what he wants. He's always trying to get some space, right? Well, here it is. In the unfamiliar quiet he can almost believe he’s the last thing left alive in the world. All it would take to break the illusion would be turning his head to look out the window, see the houses beyond and their stirring curtains. Instead he falls asleep there, not awake to witness the sun setting, or the town coming to frenzied life. He doesn’t stir again until his parents come home and call him down to deliver the news.

“Above all things I want to behave like a gentleman, and be viewed as such,” said the Devil. “I wander about here dreaming. I like dreaming.”

[kevshah]

(@juliiewest)

When he arrives for their meeting, the first thing Kevin is struck by is how quiet it is in the darkroom, just the muffled sound of running water and the low machine hum of the lights. It’s cramped, too, between the two tables pushed at opposite walls and the utilitarian sink at the far end, just enough space for two people to shuffle around. To be honest, this is because their darkroom is just a glorified janitor’s closet on the emptier end of the basement hallway. Still, he counts it as a big win, a sign of good tidings to come. He hadn’t expected the school to give them anything, let alone a space for themselves-- or rather, their one-person photography department.

Kevin had spent the better part of a Saturday afternoon setting up the room, much of it in complete darkness. One of the steps had been standing in the pitch-black closet for five long minutes alone, waiting for his eyes to adjust until he could perceive even the smallest leaks of light through where he’d gone around the door frame with scotch tape.

However, nothing about that process had unnerved him like he is now, standing next to Julie in the half-dark. The red lights illuminate her pale hair and skin like some Victorian ghost, and he has to keep reminding himself that she’s nice, like famously nice around town, more the babysitter type than a storybook wraith. Maybe it’s just the smell of the chemicals finally getting to his head, citrus and vinegar and something sickly sweet underneath, like metal dipped in sugar.

Still, he’s careful to keep from touching her as he points out the different tools in the small space. He summarizes the process as best and quickly he can, some of the words coming out halting, awkward. There’s no way of getting around being stuck in a closet with someone you barely know, and Julie is far from just a random stranger. To be honest, he’d been equally curious and cautious about her for a while, but however he thought their first interaction might go, there was no way to have expected this.

Trying to focus on the task at hand rather than their bizarre circumstances, Kevin points to the table behind them. He explains: three trays, three steps, three chemicals. Developer, stop bath, fixer. Then a long soak in the sink, with the tap left running. And then behind them the enlarger, with it’s giant glass eye to control the layers of light and dark, exposure and concealment. Everything it takes to coax an image out of a piece of paper.

“So, for your first pictures-- step one is transferring the film to a canister for processing. You basically roll the film on this giant spindle. It has to be done in complete darkness though.” He leans over to switch off the red darkroom lights, plunging them into the dark, before he can feel weird about it. Somehow, the sound of running water seems louder now, along with his own heartbeat, and he realizes his misstep. He can still feel metal and plastic in his hands, the canister and practice film that Julie is supposed to be setting up herself. As is the whole point of this educational endeavor. “Sorry, I should have passed these over before shutting down the lights. Uh-- where are your hands?”

[kevshah]

Perhaps one of the weirdest things about all of this (not including the fact that his fucking brother was missing) was that everyone was being nice all of a sudden. Before this, before Brian had disappeared, he’d been popular in the high school sense. He hung out with the right kids, played the right sports, and mocked the right people. People knew who he was because of what he did, not what happened to him. Now though, people knew him and felt pity and shame and David hated it. He hated walking through town knowing that, as soon as he was spotted, he would be what people were talking about.

He had always just wanted to be ordinary. To keep his head down until college and then get as far away as possible.

He still wants to do this, especially as he watches fucking Kevin Shah walk up to the table he’s at and accept coffee from him. Kevin, who he wouldn’t even give the time of day, let alone a cup of coffee, before all of this. Unable to think of words to say to someone he’d probably pushed into (or at least threatened to push into) a locker, David just nodded back. He’d asked so many people if they’d found anything that the answers all started to blend together until it no longer mattered. The answer was always the same after all.

Lost in thought, David almost missed Kevin’s words. Almost. Unable to stop himself though, David latched onto the words and grinned. “’Round the corner huh? And what kind of distraction are we talking about here?” He teased.

In Devil’s Knot, guys like David have lots of reasons to mess with guys like Kevin. Finding the semblance of peace he has— at least, not being openly fucked with on the daily— is not something that came naturally, or easy. Not that he’s ever cared all that much what people think about him, but getting by unbothered has its own price. He’s learned over time (and consequences) what parts of himself he can show and what should be kept to only a trusted few. Keeping his guard up is second-nature at this point, but with everything going on he’d taken a chance on being half-decent to David Goode… and now he regrets it.

It’s possible David means nothing by the teasing, but the possible implications still make him tense, hit a bit too close to home. God, he shouldn’t have even bothered, of course no attempt at a civil conversation with the guy could go well. He almost says something salacious, just to see the expression on David’s face, but self-preservation wins out in the end— Kevin doesn’t need to give the guy any ammo to use against him down the line, when life and high school inevitably return to normal and David resumes his status as cliché asshole quarterback.

“Dude, I’m just offering to smoke you out. One-time deal. Take it or don’t!” He throws his arms up in a shrug and backs away, glad to be leaving the heavy atmosphere of the forest and the disappointed faces milling around it.

[kevshah]

(@heatherwheeler​)

When Kevin sees Heather smoking out by the bike rack during free period, he stops short as if he’s got a rope tied around his waist and someone’s yanked the other end. Of course some of the cheerleaders smoke, and other people use this spot during the day, but those two facts colliding to have him, here, smoking at the same time as one of Kelly’s miniskirt-clad underlings never occurred to him as a possibility. As far as he knows Heather isn’t one of the truly horrible ones, or even that close to Kelly, but it still feels, ridiculously, like an intrusion.

It’s too late to turn back now. He tries to regain his cool, leaning into an open spot next to a neon yellow bike. He’s caught between not looking at her and not looking like he’s trying to not look at her, so he busies his hands instead, rotating the pack in his hands like a deck of cards. Which is when he realizes-- he forgot his lighter.

Shit. It would look really bad if he turned and left right after seeing her here. He knows she probably already thinks he’s a weirdo but that’s straight-up rude, not his style. The alternative, just standing at staring at nothing until one of them gets uncomfortable enough to leave, is somehow worse.

There’s no other way but forward. Kevin turns to Heather, running a stressed hand through his hair. “Hey. Got a light?”

[davidgoode]

“Hey. Um. Thanks for helping out today…” David stated awkwardly as he handed the person in front of him a cup of coffee. It was sun down and all the search parties that had been sent out were slowly returning to the community center; tired and seemingly less hopeful than before. At first, after what happened, David had been one of the people out there, searching the town, the woods, the creek beds. Now though, he couldn’t do it. It frustrated him too much, searching the same places over and over again; calling out Brian’s name until his throat was raw. Mom still went out there every day, desperately leading the search, but David stayed behind, content to be the face that welcomed everyone back at the end of the day. 

“Do you… did you guys find anything?” He asked, already knowing the answer. He didn’t know what else to say though. What was he supposed to say to someone who had just spent hours out in the woods looking for his brother’s dead body?

[kevshah]

Kevin’s not proud of his first reaction to seeing David Goode, which is to flinch. He’s tried not to think of the guy over the past few days, avoided imagining what he could possibly be going through, but it’s not just because it’s a horrible position to be in. The thing is-- he doesn’t want to like David, but he also realizes that, by some strange rule of the universe, the easy dislike he’d previously reserved for him has disappeared. It doesn’t make sense, and it’s not comfortable, that the sheer coincidence of tragedy could transfigure him into someone less unlikeable, but it’s the truth. Looking at David Goode now, with his sad plastic cups of coffee, is like looking at a stranger. Kevin isn’t annoyed by his very presence in his air space; he just feels bad for him.

“Hey, thanks,” he says, accepting the cup he has no intention of actually drinking. He only shakes his head at David’s other question, unsure how to kindly say no, nothing, sorry. Or what to say after that. Honestly, there’s probably no such thing as the right thing to say in this situation, but out of the dozens of acceptable things to possibly say— and Kevin’s brain does flash through them, in the split second after realizing David Goode is, indeed, talking to him— none of them feel quite right. So instead he does what comes most natural, the most sincere gesture he can manage, and skips the platitudes for an offer. It’s at best wildly inappropriate, and at worst maybe going to get him arrested, but his immediate reaction is to flash David the joint he’s hiding in his pocket, betraying nothing on his face past one raised eyebrow. “I don’t know what you’re doing after this, but.” He shrugs. “If you need a distraction, I’m parked around the corner.” Whatever happens now, at least he can rest assured knowing he did his best for the sad bastard, comforting words or not.

[petesilverman]

open to: anyone with a connection to Pete

His mom wasn’t home when Pete got back from school, but to be honest, he didn’t expect her to be. She was working later and later. The paranoid part of him wondered if she was deliberately avoiding him anyway, avoiding talking to him or asking him how he’s feeling after what happened (or might have happened) to Brian. Then the cynic in him realized she probably didn’t really care enough to avoid him. She was just busy working. It had been a couple of years since Pete had really bothered trying to get her attention.

“Hey boy,” he greeted in a soft tone as Billie padded over to him. He bent down, pulling back the padded headphones that played one of his Smashing Pumpkins cassettes to scratch the dog behind the ears. He left his backpack and jacket hanging on the back of the dining chair, and made sure the water and food bowl were full. A chewed up tennis ball was lying on the floor, and he gave a little whistle before picking it up and bouncing it down the hallway so Billie could chase it and bring it back to him, and then he let him out in the back yard.

God, he was so freaking glad it was a Friday. But he was equally apprehensive about it. Tomorrow would mark one week since Brian had disappeared. He recognized the looks in people’s eyes when they spoke to David or Beth. He’d been on the receiving end way too many times. How weird was it to feel like he was the one giving those looks out? He’d also seen that look creep back into people’s eyes when they looked at him over the course of the week. He knew what they were thinking, because he was thinking the same thing.

It’s happening again.

Pete told himself it had to be something else, something completely unrelated to his father or to Max Acosta or to him. It sucked, but sometimes kids disappeared. That didn’t mean they were all linked… right? He didn’t wanna think about this stuff, and he especially didn’t wanna have the nightmares again. They’d been back all week long. He kept insisting everything was fine, but damn, he must have looked even more pale and skinny and exhausted than usual.

The little light flashed red on the answering machine, and he pulled a bottle of Diet Coke out of the fridge as he hit play. A message from Karen Shah’s receptionist telling him they could fit him in tomorrow if he wanted, could he call them before 10 tomorrow morning to confirm? Pete sighed. The next message was for his mom.

He shook his head, almost pulling his headphones back up. Mostly out of habit, out of defence. He held off for a few minutes though, wandering into the garden to call Billie back over. The dog was always grateful for the attention, and Pete was always grateful for the distraction. After a few minutes playing with tennis balls and sticks, he took Billie back inside to grab his leash. He hovered by the phone again, just for a few moments, and then he dialled.

The phone rang a few times before the voice at the other end answered. “Hey,” he said, keeping his voice as upbeat and casual as possible. “It’s Pete. I’m about to take the dog out for like an hour, but are you doing anything tonight? We can catch a movie or hit the diner or something.”

[kevshah]

Kevin’s not an idiot, or completely devoid of a heart, so he knows there’s probably something he should be doing as Pete’s friend in the wake of Brian’s disappearance. Or Pete’s kind-of friend, whatever. He knows this probably all sucks for him and his family, probably hit like a ton of bricks, and Kevin doesn’t want to seem like he’s avoiding him.

However, equally as strong as the need to be supportive is Kevin’s worry over coming off as just another one of the countless gossip mongers, reaching out just to feel involved (Oh, sweetheart, how are you holding up, you poor thing?) As with most things involving Pete, he just doesn’t know quite where he stands, or what he’s supposed to be doing. He’s just-- Uncharacteristically unmoored, waiting in this awkward limbo and hoping something will just happen so he doesn’t have to decide when the right time to act is, or even what that’s supposed to look like.

So when the call comes through, it’s a kind of relief. Kevin tries for normal. “Hey, man.” He leans against the kitchen island, as if the blasé pose could somehow translate through his voice to Pete on the phone. It’s not an entirely unfamiliar game, pretending to be more settled than he actually is. If he’s being honest, it’s not even a posture specific to the Brian thing-- talking to Pete has always felt a little bit like circling a wild animal, a creature who he desperately wants to keep around but whose experience he can’t even begin to fathom. Like it’s only a matter of time before he steps on the wrong twig and frightens him away.

The thought makes him cringe at himself, alone in the half-dark kitchen. God, don’t be such a dick. He focuses on another memory instead, the familiar image of Pete rifling through a stack of cassettes instead, or the pages of a textbook in the library. Not a myth, or a character in a story, but just another teenager. Bad shit happens to everybody, so what-- that doesn’t mean they don’t deserve just enough chance to live their boring lives as everyone else, unbothered. Whatever the guy’s deal is, however their tentative friendship ends up playing out, Kevin’s not going to be another shitty thing that happened to Pete Silverman.

“Yeah, I’m bored out of my mind over here. ” While he talks, he fiddles with the pencil and notepad his mom’s left on the countertop, doodling a row of pine trees under a forgotten grocery list. Keeping his hands busy while he tries to keep his voice level and empty, dry. “Want me to pick you up later?”

Kevin wants to ask, or now?-- Because he definitely doesn’t want to think about Pete outside alone, and the encroaching dark of October evenings, with the sun going down so early already. But he knows that’s probably not the normal thing to say, so he stays on the line, thankful Pete can’t see him shifting awkwardly as he waits for his response.

[kevshah]

(closed for @stan-meyer)

Kevin doesn’t like talking about college. Maybe because there’s something embarrassing about admitting to wanting it, the cliché of it all (university as the escape route from small-town life, starting over somewhere where no one knows your name or your business, etc etc, cue the saccharine gaze into the horizon.) Or maybe it’s because talking about it would make it too real. Real, and fragile, and susceptible to the rules of everything else in Devil’s Knot, including bad luck.

Instead, Kevin circles the topic from a distance, says just enough to placate his parents without getting into the details, and pretends to have it under control. Hmm, I’m applying to a few places. No, I haven’t chosen a major yet. In reality, it’s a topic he thinks about almost constantly, tallying up the odds in his head of ending up in the same community college as most of the recent grads he knows. Trying to decode the mystifying path from Point A (Devil’s Knot) to Point B (anywhere else, and hopefully out of state) that so few manage to find.

What he’s figured out so far is that he’s not doing enough, at least not enough to get the attention of an admissions board. Sure, he gets good grades, turns in what’s due, and keeps out of trouble, but he doesn’t go out of his way to do more than is expected of him. He’s never been big on clubs, extracurriculars, or volunteering, and school spirit is definitely not his thing. But if he wants to get into a half-decent college, things are going to have to change. He’s going to have to— God forbid— put himself out there.

Hence, the meeting with Mr. Meyer about setting up a paper for Devil’s Knot High. Realistically, he knows that it’s going to be no walk in the park, petitioning the administration to allow them the funding and space they’re going to need. These days, the whole town is spooked in a way that trickles into everything, has everyone on their tip-toes, hesitant to take a chance on anything new or different. He also doesn’t have the highest hopes about the quality of whatever they do manage to produce— school papers aren’t exactly known for their high-quality journalism and artistry. Honestly though, all that matters less to him than he’s willing to admit. If there’s a chance of him being able to claim editor of the school paper on his college apps-- editor of the paper he helped start-- he has to take it, potential for wasted time be damned.

Of course, nothing is going to happen if Mr. Meyer isn’t fully on board. As their teacher advisor, much of the work (and, worst job of all, communication with the administration) would have to go through him. From what he’s seen, Kevin thinks that they’re on the same page, but he’s hoping this meeting will get the ball rolling.

“Hey,” he says, sliding in the classroom door on the dot of 4:30. It’s always eery being in an empty classroom after hours, even when the sun’s still up. School hasn’t been out that long but already the building is near-silent around them. He ignores it, smiling at the teacher across from him. “Thanks for agreeing to meet with me on short notice.”

[devilsknotrp]

THE UPSTART

Age: Eighteen Occupation: High School Senior Personality: Guarded, profound, sensual; pretentious, nosy, peaceable. Faceclaim: Avan Jogia

Kevin was never going to be like his perfect twin sister, Kelly. From the outset he was resistant to the scripts waiting to be played out between people. He appreciates novelty, the strangeness of life, and no one in this stupid small town seems to see that they’re all trapped in a bubble. Kevin could never fit in with the outdated hierarchy of Devil’s Knot.  That being said, Kevin doesn’t believe in performing. That’s why he doesn’t wear scary black clothing or lets his hair drip into his eyes. On first glance he’s entirely ordinary, a middle-of-the-road teenager. Despite his path-breaking attitude and casual disdain for normality, he doesn’t like rocking the boat. An unrebellious rebel. Or something like that. Articulate and insightful, Kevin has a voracious appetite for knowledge and devours anything he comes across. His nose is often stuck in a huge book that would make many think he’s simply showing off, Tolstoy and the like. When at home, Kevin usually listens to loud music and only appears for food. His parents are at their wit’s end, but he gets good grades, so they can’t complain too much. Kevin’s bedroom is a shrine to the weird and wonderful. Crystals and talismans, black metal posters and incense sticks. He finds the whole Satanic Panic thing totally interesting, if a little funny. For all of his connection to the mystical, he is a privately pragmatic and logical person.

KAREN SHAH, VERNON “VERN” SHAH → Parents, a fractious relationship, tries not to care what they think. KELLY SHAH → Twin sister, drifted apart, so different. JULIE WEST → Classmate, intrigued by, never spoken before. PETE SILVERMAN → Classmate and new friend, started hanging out together, thinks he’s cool, likes introducing him to new music, slightly attracted to. BROOKE YOUNGBLOOD → Classmate, barely knows, end up drifting together, the resident oddballs. ELIAS DEERE → Childhood friend, goes way back, ride or die.

Kevin is TAKEN