And, thus, as Victoria had predicted, it was indeed her Art class, of Studio Drawing and Painting, for the official name, and she was a few minutes early, as despite the tight requirements placed on the titular ‘Poop Days’ to contain every class for that week, the passing periods between each education session was unreasonably long, though for most students, it was quite an acceptable term. I wonder if Ariannah is coming . . . then again, did they take Anterior, too? I mean she had a weapon on her, and she did kind of use it on James . . . Eh, I don’t think we should dwell on this for too long. They’ll either be here, or they won’t. Wonder who else will come, aside from Kenneth and Erick, of course. But, there were already people within the room, aside from her, and the other two, who had followed her. Well, I actually kinda followed Erick . . . There also happened to be Malaya, who Victoria was still rather unsure about the status of within her network, Andrew, who had bumped into their small group, as they strolled quickly past hordes of people, making headway to their next class, and finally, there was Ren, scrawling away on a sheet of printer paper, likely borrowed from one of the wooden containers next to Mr. Acidiski’s desk, who seemed to be still conspicuously gone. However, his collaged laptop was on, and its screen had been reflected upon a silvery cloth, using the power of a shiny, new projector that appeared to have been installed recently, and what it showed was simply the activity to be completed, today, though its name was rather ominous to the imaginative mindscape. Today’s work . . . bring in a signed syllabus . . . yeah, I forged that . . . complete the quiz . . . done that, too . . . and, uh, a-a . . . corpse? What is the meaning of that? I bet he found out about what happened yesterday . . . ugh, still weird to think about, especially with Malaya still being here . . . I am going too soft on her, did she know that Lucas was cheating on me with her? I mean, class hasn’t started, yet, might as well ask now . . .
“Hey, Malaya!” shouted Victoria, as she turned her entire body, to face Malaya, whose hair was stringed up into various braids that filled out her rounded head. As Malaya noticed Victoria’s presence, there happened to be quite a distinct change from what her previous expression was, to what it was now, that she has noticed Victoria’s existence; souring rapidly.
“Oh, hey, what was it?”
“Victoria.”
“Oh, yeah, right. Victoria. Y’know, Lucas talked lots about you, if you didn’t know,” explained Malaya, a statement that deeply infuriated Victoria. So . . . she did know. Despite the bitter gift of knowledge being given to her by Malaya, she continued onwards with a fair amount of grace, though for its longevity, it was quite an unsure topic, even to Victoria.
“So, uh, Malaya?”
“What.”
“When he told you that he was having an affair with you, didn’t you, uh, feel bad for the person getting cheated on?”
“Nope. Why should I care; I don’t even know you,” responded Malaya, fueling a further respite amongst the middle table of the congenial room, though the degrees of anger that she would soon go through would quickly outnumber the optimistic thoughts within her head that lended any sort of doubt to Malaya’s vileness.
“Oh . . . okay, then, so how did it go?”
“How did it go? Can’t answer that, girl, cause it’s still going, and also, if you were interested, no, he ain’t dead.”
“How, did you get that information?” And why don’t I have it?
“Well, you see, I got his phone number on my phone . . . right here,” she said, as she raised her phone up to the eye level of Victoria, where she peered that she, in fact, did have his phone number saved. “And, well, you see, he’s been talking to me about his procedures, n’ such. We’ve been going through a little chat about what happened yesterday, and how’s he been healing. And man, it’s so refreshing to hear a dude other than me, finally realize that Ariannah is no good. Well, he didn’t have much time to think, but it’s my thought that counts. So, yeah, that’s how he’s been doing, if you were interested.”
“I was . . . did he talk about-”
“Nope. He didn’t mention you. Not one bit.”
“Oh, okay, then.”
“Yeah. Anyways, nice talking to you.”
“You, too, I guess . . .” I wonder if she’ll actually believe that . . . she seemed fairly gullible, after all, especially after that Lucas incident, which he started . . . oh, right, I know someone I can talk to. “Hey, Andrew. How’s your day been going?”
It took awhile for him to speak, though he did eventually respond with a simple “Good.”
“Nice to hear that. Uh, aren’t you shocke-” As Victoria kept discussing events in rhetorics, Andrew simply held one of his finger to his mouth, and when Victoria noticed the gesture, she became still, before watching his hand trail to his phone, clueing to what Victoria needed to do, in order to gain any trace of speech from his personal voice, though an disturbance was to be had, with Ren placing herself within their small conversation.
“Oh, hey guys!” exclaimed Ren with an equal parts jubilant and mania.
“Um, hey, Ren?”
“Oh, hi, Victoria! Are you talking with Andrew?”
“Uh, I guess? I wouldn’t really call it talkin-”
“But weren’t you just talking with him?”
“Oh, no, we’re typing to each other now.”
“That’s still talking in my books, and, I must ask, why? You guys are next to each other, after all.”
“Well, um, it’s because I, uh, well, he doesn’t really like talking too much.”
“Oh, is he mute, or is he just shy being around you? I learned sign language for a reason!”
“Well, according to Erick, he doesn’t talk much to anyone.”
“Who’s Erick?”
“The guy sitting behind you?”
“There’s two of them, however! How must I choose?”
“Uh, I think it’s very obvious which one it is. They look alike?”
“Oh,” exhaled Ren, as she stared into Erick’s eyes, of which were the same color as Andrew’s. In fact, they seemed to share most components, except for their hairstyle, and for Erick, it was bowlcut, rather than the flowing, natural hair of Andrew that never seemed to require any attention of grooming. “It’s that one! Are they twins?”
“Nope. At least, I don’t think so. They’re just brothers.”
“Hey, Erick?” asked Ren, who was now at an uncomfortable distance towards Erick, as she leaned forward a rather generous amount, and as she did, Giulia came in, gasping for air, as though she had just been in her Physical Education class. As it turned out, she did have it, though, unlike Victoria and the other two, she actually did have to exercise; a sit-up and push-up test, according to her, as well as a test of flexibility, though as a learning rock climber, it wasn’t as hard as she first presumed. Along with her, came the smiling young man, once more, also accompanied by his usual partner; the middle-aged lady.
“Greetings, may I avail you of any troubles?”
“Yes, you may,” courteously responded Ren, using Erick’s odd manner of speech in strides, though the replica was still quite aways from mimicking, it was likely far better than Victoria’s impression could ever be. “Are you and your presumed shared sibling authentically related in both blood relations and temporal, as well?”
“No, no, I must decline the latter, I am afraid.” Turning around, to answer Victoria’s question, as more people poured in, of which included notable folks such as Sebastian, and others who she did not know the name of, including the kinky haired boy, who she knew from her Computer Science class, Ren repeated his words, though back to her normal tone, fortunately. I like Erick. He could be a cool friend, but his voice is . . . a bit grating. And the choice of words is a bit, inappropriate, sometimes. Oh, well. Guess I can’t change how he talks. Hopefully this doesn’t spread, but then again, it is just Ren being herself . . . haven’t seen any bizarre shenanigans emitted from her mouth, at least of now. Hopefully it stays-
“Oh. My. Godness,” gasped Ren, as her mouth audibly gaped open like an automaton's.
“What is it?”
“Look behind you.”
“Huh?” Victoria turned around, but only saw the presence of Sebastian, sitting alone amongst two other, emptied seats, due to his fault, though it couldn’t be fully given to him. Man . . . I wonder how he’s feeling about this . . . His whole life just probably fell apart . . . and it’s my fault. Damn it, why can’t I, ugh, and anyways, where’s this thing behind me? Is this just a dumb gag that a second graders wouldn’t even fall for? Turning around, it was clear that Ren was still petrified by a mixture of wonder and trepidation, though for what, Victoria clearly was unable to perceive. “Okay, um, Ren?”
“Yes?” prompted Ren, still noticeably fixated on the invisible diversion.
“There’s . . . uh, I don’t know how to break this to you, but there’s nothing there.”
“What? There clearly is something! There’s an orange vine, warping around your throa-” but before she could finish, Ren took a deep breath, and began to speak once more.”Ugh, don’t you understand, Victoria?”
“Uh . . . no?”
“It’s growing all sorts of autumn crops, like watermelons and grapes? There’s a big, pink flower growing on it? It kinda looks like a leafy, dried corn snake? Do you not see any of this?”
“And, starting from right now, I am going to take a pause from this conversation,” and thus, she simply tuned Ren and her ramblings out, with the task made easier with the large gathering of voices, now present in the room, the hollow, reverberating footsteps of Mr. Acidiski approaching, as well as the convenient timing of the bell ringing, signaling the beginning of learning. Mr. Acidiski walked in, with no theatrics, which Victoria expected, considering that he was an art teacher, but he was far more strict with his time, than the other teachers she had met, thus far.
“Alright, alright, since this a ‘Poop Day’, we have less time today to get things done, so let’s jump in right away!” announced Mr. Acidiski, now having everyone’s attention, but Ren, who was still looking forth, in the vague direction of Victoria. “Okay, starting off, if you have a syllabus signed, turn it in now. If you don’t have it signed, turn it in by Friday, and if you don’t have it, grab one from my little tray over here,” he stated, splaying out his hands towards a metal tray, containing the essential art supplies, but also a few unconventional, yet handy items, such as a few first aid supplies, period items, and even snacks, though he did warn us to not take too many of the snacks, as they were for people who happened to be extremely hungry. Of course, however, everyone appeared to have forgotten such a rule’s existence, and its contents have been emptied, long ago in the times of yesterday. “And also, if you didn’t fill out my little digital quiz, you can do so, later. But don’t do that, right now, since we’re going over what we are doing today; corpses!” happily declared Mr. Acidiski, though with no surprise, wasn't given much fanfare.
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“Uh,” began Sebastian, “What exactly is a corpse? And how do we exactly ‘do one’?”
“Great question, uh, what’s your name?”
“Sebastian.”
“Oh, alright. Anyways, Sebastian asked a great question. ‘What is a corpse?’ Well, it’s a bit misleading, because that’s not the full name. We are making exquisite corpses, not actual corpses. This is how they work: they are tri-sectioned pieces of art, where one artist contributes to one portion of the corpse without seeing the other's art! Then, at the end, everyone gets to see the final results of all three portions combined, into, say, an exquisite corpse.”
“Oh, I see, now,” contented Sebastian.
“Yes, okay, then . . . let me get attendance for everyone. Just say ‘here’ or ‘present’ or, honestly, whatever you want, if you are present. And, please, correct me if I got your name wrong, or if you have another name you prefer to go by. Alright, so, starting off with: Victoria?”
“Here,” muttered Victoria, too tired to trifle with basic classroom matters, considering the numerous tribulations having occurred. I can’t wait to go home . . . Maybe, I’ll draw some cats. Then, a good rest . . . Yes, that sounds nice . . .
“Alright . . . Lucas isn’t here . . . uh, Andrew Alvarez?”
“Mmm,” mumbled Andrew, before articulating a simple “Here.”
“Okay, Sebastian Amora?”
“Present.”
“Mmkay. Dia Maniscalco?”
“Here.”
“Ariannah Sable?” Victoria, due to an unknown force, had been grabbed by an unknown force of which compelled her to speak for her acquaintance, even if dishonest methods would be performed, though, it seemed that, someone else, wanted to speak on behalf of Ariannah, though whether their relationship was as amicable, or even neutral, was an entirely opposite concern.
“Oh, sir,” voice Malaya, with her intentions clear to those who were at their lunch table, yesterday, though it seemed that most, including Victoria, had shifted sides, after the fiasco of previous hours, and the duel of present’s past.
“Yes, uh, what’s your name, again. Sorry, I am bad with names,” chuckled Mr. Acidiski.
“My name’s Malaya, and Ariannah’s gone cause she gone skipped this class.”
“Really? How so?”
“Oh, well, she told me that she thinks this class’s pretty dumb and she’s only doing it for the art credits.”
“Well, I don’t know if that’s exactly true, but I’ll check in with her,” demurred Mr. Acidiski, where Victoria easily saw through her thinly-veiled lies, though, whether Victoria could tell if he could, was, rather, on a different tier, that Victoria could not achieve without more socializing, though it seems that with his sudden aversion to negativity, it seemed like Mr. Acidiski was in the know of the actual truth, too. “Thanks for telling me this information, uh . . . Amalya?”
“No, that’s a different kid. I am Malaya, alright? And you’re welcome.”
“Alright . . . so, uh . . . Kenneth Su?”
“I’m right, here, yo.”
“Malaya Droflaw?”
“Present,” said Malaya, with a distinct tone of sassy indulgence.
“Giulia Casus?”
“Oh, um, here.”
“Ren Kiel?”
Distractedly fidgeting, Ren didn’t appear to respond to her prompt, though it was well anticipated by Victoria, and similarly so, the professor’s leniency was, also, to be rather expected.
“Ahem. Ren Kiel?” asked Mr. Acidiski, and on this, Ren replied:
“Oh, hi, Mr. Acidiski.”
“Uh, hi to you, too, Ren! Um,” replied Mr. Acidiski, disoriented to the unwary retort, though considering her strangeness, at least, from Victoria’s perspective, it shouldn’t have been wildly off-putting to him. “Okay. Up next, Magnolia Chang?”
“Present and ready!”
“Alrighty . . . who’s left . . . okay, uh, Anterior Cerebral Artery?”
“I’m here.”
“Erick Alvarez?”
“I am currently residing within this spatial and temporal location, as of current.”
“Uhh, okay? So . . . Grey Stamper?”
“I am present, and, uh . . . I prefer to be called Silver.”
“Okay, then,” remarked Mr. Acidiski, as he paused from calling out names temporarily, to scribe his name down, upon his stiff, cork-like cardboard that has seemed to slowly weather over the years that he may have been here. “Alright, so . . .”
“Oh, I have a question,” asked Malaya.
“Yes?”
“Can I go to the bathroom?”
“Yes . . . and, also, people! I think I should make this clear; you can get out of the room, for whatever reason. Whether it’s to go grab a drink of water, or use the restroom, which, might I add, I don’t personally recommend. It feels like they get cleaned at the start of the year, and then, they just slowly degrade throughout the rest. Anyways, students, if there’s an emergency, or whatever, just go. Don’t, uh, ask when I am teaching, and just go. If it’s studio time, which is when we are just drawing, or painting, or doing whatever, you may ask, but I’ll probably just say you can go. But, please come back in, say, ten minutes or less. This isn’t because I don’t trust you guys, but more because I might get in trouble if I let you guys out for too long. So please, let me reiterate; don’t ask, just go, and come back in ten minutes, or less. Got it?”
Only one person made an audible squeak, that being of Malaya, “Okay, well, then, can I-”
“Yes,” sighed Mr. Acidiski in a fit of frustration, “You may go.”
“Great!” and thus, she fled the classroom in a sturdy fashion.
“Okay, let’s get back on track . . . Sol DeMar? Oh right,” said the teacher, as he looked towards the smirking teen in the corner, with his older companion, and it was at this moment, Victoria finally connected the dots together, and in hindsight, from her perspective, it was quite evident, all along, as he signaled to him via hand gestures that she couldn’t quite read, but he easily could.interpret and translate them into a language of intentionally soundless design, though it was short-lived, made transparent, when Mr. Acidiski then said:
“James Semper? Oh, right . . . absent, then. Uh, Amalya Nelon?”
“Oh, uh,” explained Victoria, quick to explain her friend’s mysterious disappearance, though honesty was certainly not a priority for her, and for her own sake, it was understandable. “She isn’t here, due to, uh, well, she said she was sick today.”
“Oh, okay. Be sure to tell her to excuse the absence via the attendance office, when she comes back tomorrow.”
“Uh, yes. Coming back tomorrow," hastily agreed Victoria, fidgeting wildly with her dried fingers underneath the sculpted surface of the painted table. “Yep.”
“Okay, anyways, Raina Kosher?”
“Oh, um, may I explain?” interjected Giulia, and rather uncharacteristically, quite confidently, as well, possibly from the supportive people who were amongst her midst, grinning and watching her, due to the eccentricity of her behavior, though not too surprising, considering the time spent together between them, as she explained the reason why one was absent, of current.
“Uh,” paused Mr. Acidiski, who was still decently surprised at the severe change in atmosphere to the search of Raina’s whereabouts, from Giulia’s part. “Sure.”
“Here’s why: Raina dared to care, searing fearsome James, where she endured a severe severing to her oxygen reserve. However, I persevering, due Raina’s endearment to me, neared towards the austere endeavor of veering to the searing pier, of whatsoever care, like steering a lever. Clearing the way with mere, clever techniques, and steering clearly with ears, peering at my peers being everly grievers to James below, never besmearing nor jeering, I should add, with several forevers appearing, as I peer the appearing Raina with sincere fever. I cleared blurily, due to the stirred atmosphere, and adhered to the bottom, with zero fear.”
“I see,” stated Mr. Acidiski. “Anyways . . . um, yeah. That should be everyone. Anyone who was marked absent but is here?” With no response, he handily replied with, “Well, okay then, let’s get started. So, let’s go by table order. Table one, aka, the table closest to me, may stand up and get their materials. I also need a volunteer to hand out the papers-”
“Oh, oh,” beckoned Anterior, who was rather antsy and shifty, shivering despite the warmth of the sunlights glistening from the thin panes embedded into the glossy walls. “Can I pass out the papers?”
“Yes, uh . . . Anterior, right, you may pass out the sheets.”
“Yay!” cheered Anterior, as she rose, along with the others from the first group, to obtain and grant the other teams of paper, as the rest simply went to the materials table, littered with nearly everything, except for the acrylics and watercolors. Then, as though a sudden shift came, throughout the whole world, as dark nimbostratus blanketed the sky, depriving it of sunlight, and just as instantaneously, the speakers began to speak, once more.
“Hey, students and faculty members! We are loving how our first ‘Poop Day’ has gone, but we have some unfortunate news.” Is this about the rainstorm, or is it . . . “As some of you know, we had our first bomb drill today. It went great for most, and we are thankful for the cooperation of safety from all of our staff and students, alike. Unfortunately,” continued the intercom, and as most of Victoria’s classmates stopped what they were doing, to listen in, they also knew exactly what was going to soon be stated by the announcer. “Unfortunately, one bomb bunker appeared to have a catastrophic error, as reported by our dear teachers of Mr. Villegas, Ms. Oni, Mr. Acidiski, and most importantly of all, Ms. Cwena, where they initially stated that a large fire likely broke out, caused by a random spark to some of the vegetable oil, which grievously injured one of our students, James Semper.”
“Oh, yeah, students,” calmly, yet nervously, told the teacher, “That’s why James is missing. If you didn’t understand what Giulia said.”
“However, with further investigation, it appears that this is not the case, as found by investigators, just now.” Oh, did they find the stash of . . . bodies . . . that . . . I put there? “Firstly, yet another student was harmed in the incident: Raina Kosher. She was found to have been poisoned with dangerous levels of CO2, causing her unconsciousness. She was fortunately found to be alive, unlike James, though doctors are currently operating to save his life. Unfortunately, however, it was found that Raina was in possession of a firearm. We are extremely sorry for this oversight in our school’s safety, but the firearm was made with a highly dangerous element known as Ghiorsium, a superheavy element that is used in the military and highly expensive, but has found its way into illegal markets. We are currently investigating any pieces of evidence as to how she has a hold of this illegal item.” Victoria looked around her, and saw Giulia biting her lips, as though attempting to not speak, which was highly unusual, though in this highly unusual situation, it was rather not abnormal. Well, I mean, at least it’s not what- “But, we have made another disturbing discovery.” Oh . . . no. “We have found two bodies with open gunshot wounds in the facility that had caught on fire. Firstly, let's give condolences to the families of our two, dear students. Their names were Kennedy Latiker and Amalya Nelon. Our gross negligence has led to their unfortunate demise, and for that, we are truly sorry. However, this leads us to believe the student in possession of the firearm, Raina, had shot two of the students and caused the fire to start.” Welp, that just happened.
“What?” asked Mr. Acidiski, as he faced Victoria with a furious look in his eyes. “Remind me of your name, but why did you lie about where Amalya went?”
“Uh, um, huh.” Come on, think, you idiot!”
“However,” the intercom continued, with no care for petty matters between students and teachers, “There is another suspect in this case. The suspect’s name is another student: Ariannah Sable.”
“Okay, okay, I did not know this,” evidently said Mr. Acidiski, “Malaya? Why would you lie to me, too?”
“Oh, well, um, maybe she meant skipping this class as in hoping for more bloodshed?” suspected Malaya.
“Yeah, sure . . .” as Andrew stared at Victoria, with an equal look of hurt and disappointment.
And finally, the intercom said “Due to this troubling news, we must announce that school is suspended for the remainder of the week, and for everyone to not step foot in this building until next week begins, due to the corpses found.”