PLOTTED STARTER for : @phantasmagcrical
⛧˖ ‒‒‒‒‒ IT WAS ONLY THE BEGINNING OF SECOND PERIOD and Eddie Munson had already landed himself in the doghouse; the end result of multiple disregarded warnings that had ultimately culminated into a trip to a familiar post in the hallway and, eventually, a seat in the school’s library. What was it that he’d caused now? A ruckus? A disruption? A commotion? He couldn’t even remember what the choice of words had been this time, which was most likely the product of years of blurred-together transgressions. Ah, well, that was just how the piece of shit cookie crumbled sometimes.
The metalhead had half a mind to ditch the period all together, but with the very real threat of failure looming over his head like a burgeoning shadow, he’d managed to talk himself into taking another crack at the essay that had been stumping him for the past week. Ms. Calding had been nice enough to extend the deadline for him, after all. It had been in the spirit of sparing him from completely flunking her class, but he was beginning to wonder if there was a deadline in existence that could save him from his soon-to-be doomed fate at this point. Give him weeks or give him months, he couldn’t see how dragging out his suffering would make achieving the impossible any less IMPOSSIBLE.
Eddie’s last-ditch effort came in the form of crumpled papers and doodles, strewn across the table amongst thin stacks of former attempts that had been aggressively scribbled out; a cover-up for the wreckage of botched sentences that lay beneath them. His last failed endeavor had been folded into the shape of a paper plane, and like it was guided by MISADVENTURE INCARNATE, it flew on a beeline path that led straight to the back of ADAM PARK’S head like it was a damn target. Of course, it had to be a jock. Albeit, he didn’t have any personal beef with this one. He counted himself lucky that it wasn’t someone worse, like Jason Carver or one of his mindless cronies.
For a moment, Eddie was still and silent, his lips folding inward as he tried to extinguish the fruition of a giant grin. ❝ Shit, ❞ he muttered, unable to stifle the hint of a chuckle that rolled out with the single word. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to make it through an entire sentence. Pushing himself to his feet, he crossed the library to perch himself against the table that the baseball star sat at. ❝ Sorry about that. My bad. ❞ His apology was genuine enough, although the rising grin that was still causing the corners of his mouth to twitch may have said otherwise. ❝ You jocks and your big heads, y'know? Hard to miss em’, ❞ he quipped. It was genuine ENOUGH.
His hand was extended, palm open as he requested the return of his paper airplane. It had been unfolded now, and he could only hope that Park hadn’t made any attempts to read it. ❝ Think I could … have that back? ❞