2020-09-20 - Teenaged Wasteland I: Making the Grade

"Oh, no."

Alexander stands in front of the blackboard, dressed in a blazer, button down shirt, tie with Humorous Caricatures of Historical Figures, and slacks (one side has been cut and tied around his cast), his hair mildly less disheveled than it usually is, and a piece of chalk in one hand, and lesson notes in the other. He's staring blankly at the class. "Why the fuck am I here?" Is Mr. A having a mid-life crisis in front of the whole class? Aging is hard, yo. He twists around to look at the board. It appears that he was halfway through talking about child labor laws in the late 18th century, and the movements towards the establishment of child welfare standards. There are some pictures of orphanages, with children who look half-feral staring out at the camera, clearly unhappy about being forced to stand still in their ragged, hand-me-down garments.

Maps fill in the blank spaces on the walls; not just world maps - there's a map specifically of the Silk Road, one of Mansa Musa's pilgrimage to Mecca, one tracking Lewis and Clark's expeditions. Where there aren't maps, there are pictures - photos of Cairo, Peruvian temples, Istanbul, South Africa, the Forbidden City - places that students from a town like Gray Harbor are unlikely to ever see with their own eyes, but someone has perhaps thought they should see some part of it, maybe something that sparks a hunger to get the hell out of this town. There are also a lot of potted plants. In every corner, on every shelf there's at least one small, aromatic plant, and they all look ridiculously well taken care of.

One of these kids, the one sitting dead center, is on the basketball team. It's a certainty, because despite being less than half Alexander's age, he's as tall as him already. He's lacking his adult weight, though, which gives him the tell-tale limber lankiness of a teen. His face is long and his chin pointed, and his nose is quite prominent; he's not done growing into this face. He's got an big mop of wavy, black-brown hair, and hazel eyes that Alexander...might recognize. Or maybe not.

This is Gus Roen, and the main reason he's not the captain of the basketball team is he's never met a fight with a bully or a creeper which he didn't want to end, decisively. And since he has two lovely, younger sisters, the creepers come out in force. He spends a fair amount of time in detention, because it turns out ending fights with richer kids doesn't earn you bonus points with the school administration (but getting the team to playoffs does, GO LUMBERJACKS). His family lives in the trailer park, and accordingly his clothes are not the best quality yet as well cared for as they can be: black denim jacket, denim jeans, Led Zeppelin tee on light gray, black Converse.

So, when did this blond kid transfer in? Beginning of the school year? He doesn't fit - not with that lazy drawl and the remnants of a tan it'd be nearly impossible to obtain in the Pacific Northwest. But he's done all right for himself. Joe's an eager and capable student, decently athletic....and unable to keep from geeking the hell out at any given opportunity. Tall, thin, just beginning to fill out in earnest - the blond hair's only really begun to grow out of the severe buzz it had when he first showed up. Something about having come in from one of those military academies the South is so fond of. He's in a pale gray t-shirt, old jeans, worn Docs kept polished to a gloss.

At the moment, he's off to one side of the front, bright blue gaze fixed expectantly on poor Alexander. The one obvious commonality with the Joe Alexander knows, those eyes - this one has no scars, no tattoos, and an air of being mint out of the box. Utterly unlike the middle-aged version's tendency to seem so laid-back he's practically supine. He's paused in taking notes to blink Clayton, as if wondering how serious that question was intended to be.

Itzhak is a rail-thin beanpole who dresses like he thinks he's a greaser from the 50s. Tight jeans, white t shirt, leather jacket, boots. He's tall and gawky and at least sixty percent schnozz by volume. He's late, shoving through the door with a violin case over one shoulder and an irritated scowl on his face. It's weird, seeing his long skinny arms totally bare of ink. But he seems to have no idea he's in a Dream, that he's not really seventeen again; he just stomps to a desk and slumps in. "Why the fuck is any of us here," is his smartaleck reply to Mr. A-Clay.

Then there's the foreign exchange student, Cecil (who pronounces it SESS-ul). He sits at the front of the class with his Trapper Keeper open and note paper at the ready. His hair falls almost to his shoulders, and it's a disheveled mop that constantly falls into his eyes. He's thin, and he's one growth spurt away from catching up with everyone else. He looks younger than he is, a fact he's very self-conscious about. His Coke-bottle glasses are too big for his narrow face, and behind them his green eyes look owlish.

He looks up from printing his name neatly at the top of his notepaper and peers at Alexander. "Sir?" he says tentatively. Itzhak's response causes him to look positively scandalized. He's in new-looking jeans and a sweater over a button-up shirt.

Everyone in school knows Byron Thorne . His father used to be a cop, but he shot himself in the head. Aside from that infamous tidbit from his life, Thorne is one of those drifters who moved between groups. Sure, he had his close circle of friends. In fact, his best friend is the always friendly Tobin Gilford. Unfortunately for Byron, Tobin's not in this class. For the most part, he was always well-liked and was often seen as gregarious and friendly, the defender of the weak-- but he was one who played up to anyone he interacted with, so rubbed elbows with both bullies and the ones they bullied. He always had a mind for business, so was always shmoozing it up with those who had money or influence. At this time in his life, however, he's working part-time at the Addington Sawmill to go with his delivery job one random restaurant or other. He is rarely seen without his bicycle.

Seated near the back of class, right next to the window, Byron is dressed in a dark navy polo shirt and a pair of jeans. His feet are tucked into black boots and he's wearing a black jacket over this ensemble. Nothing fancy. His hair could use a trim though. While he's very often all smiles and jokes, he has this contemplative look in his eyes as he stares out the window. Almost as if he's daydreaming. This is something which he quickly snaps out of, straightening in his seat in the case that Mr. A. notices that he's not paying attention.

Nicole is in her seat, playing with the wire the binds her notebook. There's a bunch of doodles on the cover, simple ones really, she's not an artist, but it also says HISTORY in big block letters. She's dressed pretty normally for her age; wearing some faded jeans that have a flare at the bottom but ride low on her hips, and a white cap-sleeved t-shirt with a black graphic of a slightly punk-looking woman's silhouette on it. Her black Converse All Stars have writing all over the white rubber soles and the black is a bit faded. A lot of what she owns is a bit faded. She lives in the poor part of town and it is fairly well known she can't rely on her parents to buy her anything.

One thing that always looks amazing though, is her hair. Today, her long, wavy, blonde locks are contained in two loose braids that hang down over her shoulders and her bangs (yes, bangs!) sweep off a bit to the left. Her makeup, though probably just wet n' wild, looks almost flawless with thinly arched brows, a natural lip color in a gloss, and eyes lined in black with big, black lashes, the shadow is a low-key smokey look in earth tones.

She keeps to herself a lot. Quiet, even though she's on the cheerleading squad. She's not mouthing off or talking to those seated near her, just staring ahead, chewing Bubble Yum and snapping it idly while plonking at that wire.

Seventeen year old Lilith Winslow occasionally waltzes late into class like she couldn't care less or just damn well owns the place. Hell, she's from the trailers and her father is Hank Winslow, it's not like she's on a college track or anything. She could have been, she's smart and used to be quite lovely and tried very hard. At some point in the middle of freshman year, however, that stopped and she became highly withdrawn, agitated, and just occasionally downright nasty. She pulled away from the crew of friends and boys she was once close to and had a bare few girl friends she occasionally ate lunch with, but that's... about it.

Mostly, she's friends with black clothing and eyeliner and her headphones, which she's wearing into class with a sucker in her mouth. She closes the door a little harder than is actually necessary, then looks at Mister A with a bit of a 'sorry' she actually might mean because he's the cool teacher. Going to settle down into her seat, though, she merely pops one of the earphones at angle from her ear instead of taking them off entirely while getting out a notepad and slumping in her seat and making a point of looking bored or sullen.

Really, she blossomed from lovely to downright beautiful at some point during the years, but she's one of those girls that is trying desperately to hide that fact behind too much makeup and attitude.

Vyv sits near the windows as well, but a row or so up from Byron; his textbook and notebook are neatly on his desk and he's been taking absent notes, a quarter or more of his attention vaguely elsewhere, at least until Mr. A asks that question. Then the grey-blue eyes are focused much more keenly on their instructor; that is interesting. Like many of the other boys, he has that look of growing upward a bit faster than the rest of him can manage to keep up with, and his fashion choices today are, like his seating, similar to Byron's, but his blue polo and darker blue jeans are decidedly more expensive. Not obvious labels, but obvious quality for any who know how to look. It follows; his family have lived in one of the more expensive beach-adjacent houses on Bayside since moving here from the UK four or so years before.

He's a rather pretty kid, if one likes the somewhat sulky-looking type, currently wearing his hair longer than last year. This has done nothing to alleviate the occasional gossip or bullying attempted based on his name and, well, general mien, really, but he effects not to care and, like many others getting through high school, keeps a fair bit to himself. Itzhak's response to Mr. A's question shifts the interested look toward a smirk, and he murmurs, "'Are'," probably to himself, but also probably just-audible to those nearby.

Speaking of bullies and creepers, the kid who slinks through the door about twelve minutes after the bell rings (despite having been told about eight times to show the fuck up on time) is none other than that new kid who just transferred in from Mexico City. Or was it Tijuana? He's not big, per se, but the way he moves and the space he takes up with that dark eyed stare, and the uneven buzz cut like his momma used a pair of dull scissors on it, and the battered leather jacket and stonewashed jeans. Trouble. He kicks Cecil's chair on his way by, oops, and goes to drop into a seat at the back with his books and notepad slapped on top of his lap with a grunt. A moment later, one of them slides to the floor. Which he patently ignores.

There are some people that Alexander doesn't recognize as kids. It's hard to see the August he knows in the tall, lanky boy at his desk, and Cecil and Joe are even less well-known to him. But Itzhak and the other townies? Well, Itzhak is hard to mistake. And the townies are people who Alexander actually saw as kids, once or twice - more for Byron, and it's to him that Alexander's eyes go for a long moment. He idly answers Itzhak as he hobbles to his desk to find his class roster, "Possibly to suffer and die for the amusement of beings we cannot perceive or comprehend." He finds the class roster, and looks through it. He makes a sound like someone hit him in the solar plexus as he scans some of these names.

His eyes flick up to various teens. "Vydal...yeah, okay. Winslow, right. I remember hearing about that. Stein." There's a brief but warm smile at the young woman; he doesn't know Nicole all that well, but he doesn't expect her to be a troublemaker. No, that, that's for an entirely different name on the list. "De la Vega." He gives Ruiz a long look, then? Bursts out laughing. It's cut off by the chipper sound of the morning announcements. He frowns at the tinny voice. "Principal's Day? What complete asshole thought that up? No one wants to spend time with the principal." He does not use his silent voice for that observation. A flick back to his...students. "Right. So. Child labor in the 1800s. Did you know they used to employ children as young as eight to crawl under machinery in factories while it was running? See, that way they didn't have to shut the machines down to do maintenance on them - the kids were small enough that they could work their hands into the innards and pull out things that got stuck, reconnect things, things like that."

Like a pair of these teens are gonna get picked to represent their District at the umpteenth annual Hunger Games. Joe's tensed, just a bit, when Ruiz makes his appearance. Times like this that he regrets sitting up front. Itz gets a little tip of the head when he appears, but he's at least ostensibly trying to keep paying attention, nevermind the hint of a hunch to his shoulders. But Alexander's reaction to de la Vega has him turning around to see what about the other kid has Alexander guffawing, before he swings back to the teacher. Frowning, like he's offended on Ruiz's behalf....and increasingly puzzled. Is Clayton drunk? "Sir," he says, and his voice has a certain crisp flatness to it. "You did. Principal's Day was your idea." For all that he's couched it politely, there's a certain hint of impatience in his voice. How dare Clayton mess with them.

Itzhak rolls his eyes at Gus. "Ya such a stickler for the rules, Roen." Long legs stuck under the unfortunate desk in front of him (he may be toothpick-thin but he's got hands and feet that would not shame a pro basketball player), he jerks his chin up at Joe as he unslings his violin case and--oh hey look at that, it's the new kid. Itzhak's gaze land on and follow de la Vega. He smirks when Cecil's desk leg gets kicked. Nerd. (Nobody mention that Itzhak's in the chess club and youth orchestra.) But when the PRINCIPAL'S DAY announcement comes on...the tall skinny beanpole finds himself slithering down in his seat, shoulders hunching. "Hey, like I don't spend enough time over there?" he mutters. His eyes flash at Alexander, hard to say what about. Request for clemency? Attitude?

Cecil startles at the kick with a small yelp. The kid's a bundle of nerves. Beings we cannot perceive of comprehend? Those are his least favorite kind! He glances at Ruiz as he passes by and tells him, "You're going to get in trouble." He pushes his glasses up his nose, then turns to face forward, and he starts taking notes about child labor in the 1800s. Principal's Day is just confusing. They do things differently in America. He just treats it like it's got nothing to do with him.

Lily pops the sucker from her mouth to line up and pitch at the trash can from a bit of a distance as the speaker system drones and Mister A talks, but when the signal ending beep goes up, it makes her frown a little with bother and distraction. She misses. Sighing like this is a huge deal, she eyes to see if anyone actually noticed her missing the trash can and whether or not she has to go pick it up. Also, she'd have to walk by Byron to do that and... sigh.

She's grumpy now, something about that noise bothers her, she missed the trash can, her headphone player is running out of battery, and she wants to take it out on someone. She's not exactly a bully though. Therefore, she picks the bully to be nasty to because that's her logic train-- give your nasty to someone that deserves it (most of the time).

Writing in capital letters, she makes a note and folds it over twice to go drop on Ruiz's desk on the way to pick up her trash-sucker to throw it away properly.

DO YOU EVEN SPEAK ENGLISH?

A few seconds after Byron had broke out of his day dream, Lilith magically appears. He wasn't sure if she was coming to class today. She tends to skip a lot of them now. Nevermind the various outbursts going on around the room, especially the one coming from Mister A., himself. Thorne's attention is caught on Lilith's arrival for a time, watching as she saunters in like she owns the place before taking her seat. If there's a chance that she might look his way, he'll hold his gaze for a few acknowledging moments, before turning away. Whatever light-heartedness that can usually be found on his features, they've slowly begun to fade.

That is until the jock sitting near by distracts him with some actual physical ribbing, this brings out Byron's smile because though it's kinda annoying and sort of hurts, he's somewhat of a kiss ass when it comes to making acquaintances that he might profit off of. THAT SAID, the Addington's don't like their employees gossiping about workplace hazards, so he can't let the guy know about the full details, "I wasn't there at the time, but word's going around that someone had his wrist sliced right off." Okay, he didn't give the guy's name, alright?

There's subtle teenage bullying going around and that Mexican kid just stormed into the room like /HE/ owned the place. Did Byron want to say something in defense of Cecil? Right now, he's weighing his options on who the aggressors are and what their standing is like in the town. Financially.

If anything, there's a roll of his eyes and this look of exasperation in his sigh once the Principal's Day is mentioned, "Let the unluckiest student in school win." He murmurs, flipping a page over to where in their studies Alexander is talking about. There's then a raise of his hand, but rather than wait for the teacher to call on him, he states, "Didn't this benefit the children's families anyway? The brought the bacon home for the family. Sometimes the experience is just as good as any education." Nevermind the dangers!

From out of the corner of his dark eyes, he sees a note being passed along. This was from Lilith to... God damn it. That Mexican kid.

Unlike some of the slackers and delinquents in this room, Byron was a pretty good student.

When the loudspeaker comes to life with that usual, awful quality all school speakers have, Nicole looks up towards it, as if she could actually see the speaker and not just hear her (she can't). Her brows perk up at the mention of prom, though she isn't even sure she is going at this point. She's been making a dress though, just in case. Hell, maybe she'll go stag! Nothing wrong with that, right? 'Principal's Day' gets her lip curling up on one side in a sneer as she makes a noise in the back of her throat that sounds a bit like "uychchch". Her attention returns to her notebook flipping it open to a blank page. She writes a date on it, whatever date she thinks it is, then lets her head fall back, eyes going to the ceiling. Making that noise again, "uychchch" she says, "I feel sorry for whoever 'wins' that prize. " Biting her lip, dark eyes shift up towards Alexander. "Sorry, Mr. A.," she says, looking positively remorseful for her comment. She tries to soften the blow, but unable to think of anything she can say with a straight face, she just shrugs and writes some notes. Notes she probably won't study. The chaos in the room does distract her enough to make her look around briefly, sure not to set her eyes on any of the cute boys for too long. She quickly looks back down at her paper and writes something about kids crawling under machines.

Vyv gives a near-silent breath of a laugh at the idea that they're here to suffer for the pleasure of incomprehensible beings; it's a sardonic little thing and quite similar to one that might be repeated in another decade and some years. Maybe that is why they're here. Maybe that's all of high school. He watches Ruiz skulk into the classroom from the corner of his eye, writing or maybe just doodling something in his notebook and trying not to startle (with decent success) at the noise of the kick to the chair. The noise of the loudspeaker's only a little better. Nothing there sounds terribly interesting, at least until it gets to 'Principal's Day', which has him rolling his eyes. "Oh, lucky, lucky us," he mutters, and writes something else down a bit more firmly, maybe against that slight twinge in his mind. His name being called has him looking to their teacher again, though when it goes back to the lesson, well, for the moment so does he.

De la Vega's response to the whole threat of getting in trouble is to flick a pencil eraser at Cecil from the back of the room. Except he misses, and manages to bean Joe in the back of the head instead. A moment later, some hot, grumpy looking chick wanders by his desk and drops a note atop it. He watches after her for a moment or two, then reaches for said note while Mr. A prattles on and on up at the front- and is he laughing at him? Is that allowed, laughing at students? The note's opened, read through with furrowed brows, and then he scrawls on the back of the note,

Lo digo bien, por qué me gritas, perra loca?

Before making an airplane out of it, and sending it sailing back. Then his fingers are rifled through his nearly nonexistent hair, and his book cracked open. Upside-down. "Principal's Day," he mouths to himself.

Alexander blinks back at Joseph. "What." A shake of his head. "I. Did I? I'd say that doesn't sound like me, but I'm not sure I know what me is, when you get down to it. But this is apparently US History, and not Intro to Philosophy, so I guess we'll table that discussion until you're all old enough to drink again. Fuck. You'd better all remember this." His voice has a hint of dry humor to it, but it's also firm. A beat. "Also, Javier, don't kick Cecil's desk. He's not bad." Another pause. "And don't throw airplanes in the room. Or erasers And Lilith, don't drop notes on other students' desks." He doesn't ask what's in the note, or try to read it, and he sounds terribly perfunctory about the whole 'discipline' thing. Instead, his attention has rotated to that clicking sound. Something about it holds whatever he was going to say next. He looks around, finds one of those heavy, metal edged school rulers, and picks it up, resting it lightly on his shoulder.

Maybe Alexander is about to get old school about discipline? But his eyes are on the door, not the kids, and he moves to that side of the classroom, putting himself between the door and the nearest desk even as he says, "Okay. Who remembers what the hell our last test was on?"

Joe just gets that put-upon look - an echo of his adult expression - once he's hit with the eraser. There's that curl to his lip, like he's winding up with a really bitchy retort. Another turn back to give Javier a warning glare, but then Alexander's replying again.

He actually flinches when Alexander picks up the ruler - Catholic school PTSD, clearly. "War of 1812 and Andrew Jackson, sir," he says, still braced like he's just waiting for Clayton to snap and come at him, like this is a scene from The Wall.

Itzhak is starting to fidget, one huge boot bouncing against the back chair leg of whoever's sitting in front of him. Tik-tak, the heels outside come closer, tak-tik-tik-tak. His arms are tightly crossed, and his head is down. What he's thinking is practically written across his narrow face: not me, not me this time, but if it's me then I'll make 'em regret it. "Triangle Shirtwaist Fire, unions versus sweatshops," is what he provides for what the test was last time. He'd know, presumably, as he sells crib sheets.

Cecil flinches when the eraser is thrown, even though it misses him by a mile. He winces as he whispers to Joe, "Sorry." He knows that eraser was meant for him. Then Alexander's defending him, and Cecil's expression can't seem to decide between pleased and mortified. Teacher called him not bad! But it's probably just going to provoke Ruiz further. "Um." He sorts through his notes. "Our last test was on the history of the American Labor Movement."

Don't look at Byron, don't look at Byron, don't look at Byron...

Fail. Turning around from the trash can sets the teen brunette's eyeliner-heavy gaze right on Byron at his desk, especially since he's speaking up like a good student. It actually pauses her for an awkward moment to make that eye contact, even with nothing but a non-plussed expression. After blinking, she pulls in a little breath and goes to sit and... behave or brood. One of those things, at least.

Sitting back in her seat, Lily watches the plane sail, then leans to pick it up with flip to the back so she can unfold and read the retort, side-eyeing Ruiz all the while. Then Mister A is asking her not to DROP notes on people's desks, and he's cool, so she complies. But look, exchange students aren't getting the last words on her, especially when two of the words that she understands are less than flattering (but probably true).

She balls up the note in a fist and writes like she's taking notes. But suddenly it's clear she's not-- instead of passing a note, she just flips it right up with retort in all caps from where she sits in the back near the Mexican exchange student like a glaring sign of 'fuck you too'.

YOUR MOM
PS: YOUR DAD TOO

She's real quick about disposing of both notes into her bag, though, once the click of heels are in the hallway. In fact, she puts up her earphones too. She gets out a book. And she tries REAL hard to just... blend now because... those heels mean...

So it wasn't just Byron's imagination. Lilith was passing notes with the new transfer kid. Is that jealousy in Thorne's eyes? Once he and Lilith went their separate ways, some of the other kids would ask him about it and he'd make light of break up, even if they weren't officially together. Not like that! The school, his peers, himself. They all just assumed. Is he taking this lightly now? Not with that murderous look in his too dark eyes. There's also this restlessness about him as if he's about to stand up and...

What was Nicole doing? That was kind of annoying, but he's looking right at her now. So she's got his attention. "Yeah, really." He'll murmur out to her statement which kinda-sorta mirrors his. He then flashes a quick smile over at Stein, "Let's just hope it's neither of u--" His words are cut off the tap-tap-tap sound of a pair of heels approaching.

His mind is all over the place now, distracted and he keeps looking to see whether Lilith was writing down another note. Distracted, yet attentive. Mostly. Byron had a keen mind to multi-task on his good days, so when the question is asked, he'll toss out without raising his hand this time, "1886. Chicago, Illinois. What started as a peaceful rally for workers wanting an eight-hour work day, turned into a full blown," He wants to say clusterfuck, but he switches gears, "massacre due to a randomly thrown dynamite bomb. Haymarket Riot."He did his homework.

Vyv almost-entirely-stifles another tiny laugh when the eraser clonks Joe instead of Cecil, and watches with bright interest to see how that's all about to develop. Almost certainly he knows what the last test was on -- he tends to do quite well on them -- but he does not actually need to draw more attention from the sort of people who don't care for that kind of thing, thank you, so the several others he knows are going to speak up can have the honour. And if only the ones who'd lie say anything... well, that might be amusing.

He glances toward the door at the sound of the clicking heels, but it's Mr. A's claiming of that ruler that has him looking faintly unsettled. Maybe Joe's not the only one with a touch of that particular PTSD. But it's the door he seems to be focused on, and Vyv looks that way too, then flicks a glance around at his fellow students to see if they look like they feel something's off, too. Or maybe to steal a look at the cute ones. Or the former with a bonus! Regardless, the tip of his pen taps distractedly against the paper as his attention drifts back toward the door.

Nicole might think Mr. A is rather hot for a teacher, but the look she is giving him at the moment reads more "oh my god... has Mr. A. lost his mind?" than "oh my god, I would totally be a naughty school girl for him." She looks over to Lilith at the mention of dropping notes, seeing a bit of the exchange between her and the Mexican kid. Poor kid. I mean, yeah, he's pretty scary but... Letting out a soft sigh and a frown she shakes her head. When Alexander's attention goes to the door and the clicking of those heels, hers does too, briefly. She does not arm herself though. Instead, she is looking at her fellow classmates as they offer answers in regards to their last test as if they have all gone cray too. "Um... like, I think it was on the Suffragette movement?"

"Crossing fingers," she says then to Byron, offering him a kind smile. However, when he gives his take on the last test, she shakes her head. "No... I don't think so. I would have probably remembered something like that..."

The last test. What was the last test on? The one Javier skipped out on, said he had to take a leak, and never came back to class. Wound up getting dragged off to the girls' bathroom to smoke pot . With girls. And guess how much of a shit he gave about some stupid American History test by that point?

Some keeners up at the front are throwing out answers, anyway, so he keeps quiet and hopes Mr. A ignores him, all slumped in his seat and.. not drawing attention to himself like he is.

Then scritch-scratch as Lilith hastily composes a reply to him, and his dark eyes tick over her way. He tosses his pen atop his books, and flips her his middle finger. Ain't no way Mr. A will miss that. Then a slow look to the door at the sound of clicking heels.

"You two, knock it off." That's to Lilith and Ruiz, without Alexander even looking around. It's almost like he's psychic or something. He takes in the varying answers with a snort of amusement. "Right. Well. What would you like to--" and then the door opens. He watches the woman walk in with a flat, intense expression. He doesn't miss the dread coming off of the students, and more, something gnaws at him. He stares at Olerud for a long, awkward moment, then says, "No. I haven't picked anyone. Come back later." It's flat. He doesn't really expect it to work, but he doesn't need a teaching certificate to tell him that these kids are his, and none of them leave his sight in a Dream like this.

Joe's tension hasn't eased any by the Vice Principal actually entering the room. Like Alexander resting that ruler on his shoulder like it's a rifle in drill team doesn't reassure him a bit. He's half-braced still, hands splayed over the surface of his desk, like a cat readying itself to spring....and those near him might realize that notebook, pen, textbook, are all hovering a little bit off the desk. Just a hair.

But for all the dread coiling in his gut, there's something else there, too. That look in the blue eyes that's more than a little tinged with a certain kind of madness. Then he says, deliberately, "Me. Mr. Clayton picked me," even as he looks her dead in the eye.

The things on his desk start to slither away to either side, like even the inanimate objects are desperate to get the hell away from the basilisk eye of the Veep....and Joe's clothes stir and snap like he's in the center of a high wind, a hurricane with an eye about six inches in diameter.

Itzhak looks sideways at Gus, not replying. He's pale. Doesn't seem like he believes him all that much. Then when Joe speaks up, Itzhak hisses, "Shut the fuck up, Cavanaugh!" no longer pale but going red in fury. "He's lying!" That's at the Veep. "Mr. A didn't pick nobody!"

Cecil sits up a little taller when the Vice Principal walks into the room. "Are you crazy?" he whispers at Joe. He's got a few shades paler, and he's worrying the pencil in his hand to the point of snapping it. He quickly puts it down and folds his hands on top of his Trapper Keeper and tries to look unobtrusive. Maybe the VP is like a pit viper, and if he doesn't move, she won't see him.

Lilith looks a little smug as her own desk and distractions are cleared away and Ruiz is caught with the middle finger up when the Vice Principle walks in. But that satisfaction and 'haha' moment doesn't really last long because she's not really wishing the attention on the exchange student or... anyone else. There's no detailed thoughts as to exactly why, but she knows it's bad and she doesn't like being looked at and complimented in whatever sense by the lady. It makes her stomach twist to have the direct eye contact it takes for assessment and she sits up a bit straighter unwittingly.

She's tempted to look at Byron when she gets confused about what they're talking about 'picking' for, not only because he generally knows answers to most everything by habit, but also because... she's kind of scared. Damned if she's fessing up to that, though. Mostly, she briefly side-eyes Byron's desk and his hands before watching Joe uh. What? Oh shit. He's going to have detention until he turns to bones! She seems a little fascinated with the sheer ballsy of it.

Yeah, knock it off, Lilith. Byron is thinking clearly in his mind, turning this annoyed gaze her way. She has him frustrated and if they weren't in class right now, he'd march right over there and...

The door opens and in comes the VP. The sound of her her heels was always an unnerving thing, which often times led to an even more unnerving event. He tries not to look at the woman directly, though something draws his attention when she mentions these bright students, wary eyes turning towards Lilith. Lilith was like a beacon. Helen of Troy leading men to their deat--- That's corny as shit. But something about what Olerud said has him on edge, bringing out his protective side.

Then the question is asked: Have you chosen one already?

While Byron doesn't know what goes in in the principal's office, he does know one thing, something he whispers beneath his breath, "...whoever is chosen never comes back..." pause. "..ever..." He's not really saying that for Cavanaugh's sake, but it helps the narrative and most everyone's probably thinking the same thing.

Vyv's earlier sarcasm about the 'luck' involved in being chosen for such a signal honour as Principal's Day was just the standard sort of snarkiness; now, though, that's curdled into a dread that sinks deeper into his stomach as the woman enters the room and starts looking them over. He watches, quite still and slightly tensed, more like a rabbit ready to flee than a cat ready to pounce, waiting to see whether one of them's to be singled out and aiming for it not to be him. Joe's 'volunteering' has him blinking and sitting slightly forward, particularly when things start to move around like that. Still on alert, but-- this is almost certainly the most exciting thing that's going to happen in school today. Probably this entire week. And maybe especially if Byron's right, though that might be a shame. There's definitely other people in this school he'd sacrifice to a hungry principal before Joe.

Vice Principal Olerud walks in and when the woman's gaze falls on Nicole, it is all she can do to not shrink down in her chair. No, that would be bad. Very bad. _Click clack _ go her heels as she walks to the front of the room and Nicole is now trying very hard not to draw attention to herself and staring mostly at those noisy shoes. She feels this tingling going up her neck, making the fine baby hairs there stand on end. Reaching back she tries to quickly rub away the tension. She mumbles to herself, "I shoulda stayed home sick today..."

Then Joseph contradicts Alexander, declaring himself the one chosen. Nicole looks at him incredulously, eyes wide, lips parted just a touch, before she composes herself once more, casting her aghast gaze to her notebook. Byron's foreboding comment earns a side-eyed glance towards him, worry setting in on her features.

It doesn't last long though, Hurricane Joe begins to stir and she reflexively scoots her entire desk away from him, even if only a couple inches, with a loud SQUEEEEK of metal on awful tile (probably asbestos-filled) floors.

Javier's silent as the Vice Principal walks in, and still as a cat watching a bigger, nastier predator pass by. Figures he'd do nothing to draw attention to himself, little punk ass kid like him. Let the keener at the front take the heat for whatever's about to happen. Isn't it the smart ones that get called away to the office, and don't come back?

Except that's not the way the story's gonna go today. Not if he has his way. "He's fucking lying," pipes up de la Vega, with that rough, sloping accent. And maybe she won't notice that his fingers are trembling slightly as he meets her gaze squarely. "Mr. A didn't pick him. Cavanaugh's way too smart. He picked me. Because I'm stupid, and he won't miss another stupid Mexican." His voice wavers a little there, though not from lack of conviction; there's a tinge of emotion, there and gone again, like a shadow crept across the sun.

"Cavanaugh, if your ass moves up out of that chair, I will put it back down with prejudice," Alexander says, his voice flat and hard, and entirely unapologetic about it, despite the spinning vortex of air that's gathering around the younger man. Alexander knows that none of these 'children' are really teens. They may not even be REAL, but just figments the dream has created in order to torment him. It doesn't matter, and if it's all just a horrible trick, it works. His jaw tightens when Ruiz speaks up to also try and volunteer. "We can discuss the class's ludicrously self-destructive tendencies at a later point in time." He looks at the Vice Principal with a sort of resignation. "Fiat justitia, ruat caelum."

It's the only warning he gives her. Alexander doesn't posture, generally. His body language goes from apprehensive to full out murder in a heartbeat, and he pivots on his cast leg to bring the straight edge around like a sword, swinging at her throat with the full strength of his body. Even blunt metal can cut, if you try hard enough.

Joe does look like he's only belatedly realized that he's stepped out in front of the firing squad. He's gone the color of paste under the remnant of his tan, and there are beads of sweat standing out on his forehead. His breath is coming in rasps that are almost asthmatic, and the knuckles of the hands holding on to the edge of the desk are white.

He does shut up, though he gives Javier a glare that's positively venomous. Itz and Gus get something a little more wild-eyed...but then Alexander has apparently decided to go full Clockwork Orange on the Vice Principal and Joe piles in by the expedient of simply doing his best to pour lightning into her. Talk about stupidly blatant displays of power - feel the hate flow through you, indeed.

Before he knows exactly why, Itzhak's lunging free from his desk. It's not Olerud he's going for. It's Javier, who's stood himself up like a complete brazen heroic moron. His Song wakes with an inaudible roar--you been THUNDERSTRUCK--and he flings himself between Javier, Gus, Lil, and the other kids nearby. Why? Everybody realizes it when the ceiling starts coming down and Itzhak is cussing it out in Yiddish and the chunks of debris are listening to him, falling not on him or the kids he's guarding.

Rest of the place though? Fair game.

Cecil glances at Ruiz like he's gone crazy, too. Then he sighs quietly, removes his glasses, and starts to clean them with a kerchief from his pocket. He looks about twelve, and that isn't really helping him with his high school experience. Putting his glasses back on, he sees Alexander and Joe attack the Vice Principal. His eyes widen. Is this what they're doing now? Oh oh oh! He can do this! He flings lightning alongside Joe, except that the energy races right back down to electrify himself, and he yelps. It is never Cecil Harveys fate, in any situation, to be smooth. But darn it, he tries. He sits there, smoldering, his hair full of static and experiencing a lot of lift just now.

Lilith has no real clue what's going on, but it's not confusion that's working her nerves or brain at this moment. It's just dread and fear that something bad is about to happen and she doesn't have to try and figure it out to react, right? Impulsive teens, man. She just knows Byron is right when he says people don't come back. Gradually, she sits up straighter and straighter, looking at Ruiz when he's called out as 'it'. Maybe she should have been a little nicer. But she behaves still and doesn't intervene, especially given the VP's eyes were taking a meander onto her again.

Wolves can't eat when they're full of other sheep. Lilith takes care of herself and has since she was three.

... but then the VP's eyes snap hard onto Byron for speaking out and that hand raises as if to snap him straight into death detention or whatever the hell anyone can imagine 'bad' is. And that boy took care of her when she didn't know how or wasn't able to take care of herself... so many times. It doesn't matter that they haven't been talking and barely looking at each other for a while now. She panics and gets furiously defensive, the rage in her chest tightening, then exploding out of her with lash of destructive power she has piss-poor control of, all fury, no real aim or tactic about it.

The ceiling titles shudder, then start to break and cave with angry drop of chunked up rain all over the class.

Look, if Joe wanted to get himself into trouble with the principal, Byron wasn't going to stop him. Better Cavanaugh than him, right? And it's not like Lilith was stupid enough to volunteer, so it's nothing he has to get out of his seat for. In fact, there's so much chaos in the room right now with Mister A. actually talking back to the VP that you could just feel how thick the tension was in the room. So thick in fact, you just had a sense that something was gonna blow like that dynamite bomb used in the Haymarket Massacre.

Shit. The VP heard him. The woman's appearance would make anyone looking at her feel a repulsive discomfort in their pit of their stomachs. He's not quite sure what the actual reason Why they don't discuss the Bargain in plain terms, but he doesn't need to know the details to realize that he was in more trouble than just a little detention. But Thorne was outwardly a good student who rarely was on any teacher's radar unless he was trying to sell them something. But he was no delinquent and many in the school knew his parents. His mind was trailing off, it seems. But being that good a student, it's against this public image of his to just act out, so rather than do anything against this punishment, he simply braces himself and just watches the chaos flying about all around him.

Mr. A is attacking the vice-principal with a ruler. Yes. This is definitely the most exciting thing to happen in at least a week. The lightning thing is just a bonus. Vyv probably wasn't seriously considering doing more than watching, just yet, but suddenly the ceiling is breaking apart and falling, on him, and he yelps, arms lifting and crossing over his head as if to protect it -- which it does, quite a notable portion of the tiles and other debris simply hovering for the fraction of a second before they uncross and shove it all away through the air, hard. It might be intentional that it's all getting thrown toward the Vice Principal. It is not intentional that Mr. A's desk ominously lifts from the ground and takes flight too, but, uh... oopsiedoodle?

All she knew was that Joseph... something was happening. She didn't even know what. And then, EVERYTHING was happening! After scooting her desk away, Nicole froze, feeling like she was watching one of the basketball games, looking form person to person to person as things started happening around her. She saw the VP's fingers raise as if she was going to punish Byron with a snap and Nicole's brain went - 'nuh-uh! Not today, Olerud!' Sliding out of her seat, she stands and glares at the VP, trying to figure out just what she is going to do. Alexander lunges at her and, well, she has to protect him too! Rage and fear begin to build inside of her, making her heartbeat drum loudly in her ears. She closes her eyes and the last thing she sees are some of the plants in the classroom that are so very well taken care of. A desk goes flying, Nicole opens her eyes and screams just as the ceiling tiles start smashing down. A couple of the long vined plants start to entangle Olerud, but Nicole is hit over the head with tiles and her focus is lost, even if she didn't know she even had it to begin with. Two other plants start entangling Alexander and Byron as well. No! Not what she meant!

And she falls to the ground.

Rather than add fuel to the fire that's raining down on the Vice Principal, or whatever the hell she is, Javier simply bares his teeth at her briefly in a little show of come get some. Like he's fully intending on following through with his.. sacrifice? Threat? Who's to say he'd be such an easy morsel for Them? Joe's dark look has him deflating just a hair, but then there's that surge of power from Rosencrantz, of all people, and the suddenly-falling ceiling tiles are deflected away as if by an invisible barrier. He locks eyes with the skinny violin nerd for a moment, like he's making a little re-assessment.

It's Byron, though, of all people, that he turns to watch. Then eventually gets up, kicking his chair over in the process, and starts walking over slowly. He's not taller than the guy, but he's certainly bigger. And a good deal meaner. And he looks like he's got a score to settle, right in the midst of all this fucking chaos.

Everything goes to hell VERY quickly. Alexander makes no expression of triumph when the ruler slices open the VP's throat, he just moves to follow up with another strike - only to have to fall back as lightning and half the classroom's objects lunge forward to murder her for him. "Hey! Knock it--AUGH!" And that's when he realizes the ivy is climbing his leg. He flails about for a moment, whacking at it with his bloody ruler, only to have to dive out the way when the entire steel desk hurls itself through the air. "For god's sake, stop!" he shouts at the kids...but it's too late.

The VP is paste, and absolute horror is slithering down from the sky. "I didn't," he says, and his voice cracks. Alexander Clayton has officially Had Enough. "I DIDN'T!" It's a scream, and he raises the ruler to point at the descending spider. There's the crackle and hot scent of ozone in the area, and he tries to channel his own lightning through the edges of the ruler and arc it right to that thing, all the while screaming, "I DIDN'T I DIDN'T I DIDN'T!"

It's like Hogwarts as envisioned by H.P. Lovecraft. Joe gets clipped by the legs of the desk, but only across the back of his shoulder. He's not quite in full berserker fury out of sheer terror, but his teeth are bared in a rictus grin. Not even a flinch for that thing revealing itself.

He's apparently seized on lightning as a viable strategy, too - with the VP dealt with, now there's the arc of blue-white light between him and that thing.

Lily Rose Winslow is a relatively confused powerhouse that knows she's too much and has no real control when her emotions catch her, which is a PROBLEM as a teenager full of FEELINGS. There's also a LOT going on, but she doesn't really have the wits to try and make sense of it and take it all in to figure out what to do. She brings down the ceiling with a lash of panic fury in defense of Byron (which is a weird defense given the collateral damage, that's a lot of no chill, people are getting hurt despite Itzhak's good will!) But after that she just kind of sits in her desk and stares around with wide eyes.

Then she has the nerve to ask a pointed question when the terrible tar spider thing drops from the depths of the ceiling, "... who the hell broke the ceiling and did that!?"

She says it while finally getting scramble motion out of her desk, because no, no, no, nope, not touching that thing of Darkness and Horrible and she's DAMN sure not going to fess up to releasing it like the spider-kraken, circumstances be damned. Immediately, she starts to haul ass toward the door because it's what you DO (maybe) when scary big things show up. She trips over some debris in the chaotic room, though, stumbles to catch herself on a desk, then notices what's going on with Byron being trapped. Fuck.

Teenage Lily has no clue how to precision pinpoint her destruction, she just reacts and stresses and lets it out, generally to detriment. Looking around, she suddenly snaps all four legs off of the desk in the wall (and maybe more) to weapon up and provide jagged weapons for others, because wtf and powers aren't a thing she thinks she can control.

Cecil yelps again as he's hit by a ceiling tile, and he bats it away. That's going to leave a bruise. He looks more irked than scared until the sees the oozy-drippy tendrils from the ceiling. Nope. NOPE! Cecil climbs under his desk, hugs his knees to his chest, and trembles. Nope, nope, nope.

If Byron was prepared to accept his fate, that doesn't mean that he doesn't wince when it looks as if the Vice Principal's fingers are about to snap. But look, Mister A. was outright murdering her just in the nick of time. As horrible as that might be. Being a member of the GHPD family for as long as he have, this didn't look good. Not at all. Then things start flying and somewhere above them the room begins to collapse. Before Byron can even get out of his seat, he feels the tug of these vines at his long, lanky legs, which start to climb him like ivy, keeping him trapped in his chair.

This was getting really annoying. With the ceiling collapsing and desks flying everywhere, Byron did not want to be trapped in his... "Oh shit." No, he's not panicked by the incoming Ruiz, even though he may have caught a glimpse of the stocky kid coming over. No, it's the Principal Spider lowering it's grotesque self from out of the ceiling that has him in full panic mode. The sound of his chair scrapes against the floor as he thrashes around in sheer panic. "Get this fucking thing off me!" He calls out, before he spies the spider again. It was after Mister A. right now, but he was a sitting duck here after the Principal is done with the teach.

He's never used this power before, not in his teenage years, but with the stress and fear of getting eaten by a spider crystal clear in his mind, he arcs out a web of high voltage electricity. He's gonna have to kill that thing before it kills him.

Itzhak stares up into the abyss, which stares back and suggests he's delicious. The room is flying apart around him and oily filth is dripping towards him, forming limbs as it goes. "Ikh iz gekhaft," he whispers, "in di mitn fun a ban shpur..." There's nothing here except him, and except that thing in the ceiling. The screaming calamity in the background fades to white noise. He reaches out and a jagged length of torn metal pipe is somehow just there for him to grab. Itzhak scrambles atop a desk (which improbably holds still for him) and smashes the jagged end of the pipe into the black mass. ...only to cry out as something inside the mass grabs him in turn and feeds. Gashes in its form begin to seal up.

That-- was-- That was not what Vyv meant to do. That was definitely not-- well, part of it was--

Vyv stands still for a moment, staring at the remains of the VP, even paler than usual, and then there's this Principal-Thing and his mind tries to grab that desk again, only to be preempted by it more or less exploding apart. He's fairly certain he really didn't do that, but while he's there he grabs those pointy legs instead and hurls them at the definitely-not-spider.

For a moment, it looks like he's got it, like those impalings really have to hurt -- and then it seems as though the oozing blackness is just sucking them up, devouring them instead, and Vyv takes a step back and away, as 'away' as one can get when the thing is... in the ceiling. Maybe even the walls.

Sitting on the ground, Nicole reaches up to put her hand to her head. "Oh shit.. that hurts.." She winces and pulls her hand away, revealing a lump already starting and a small gash just along her hairline. There is lightning flying around, and plants hugging people, and blood spewing from the VP, and furniture being thrown and it all is a bit of a blur. She blinks as a desk crashes into the wall... no, THROUGH it, revealing the scared freshmen on the other side who should have all worn their brown pants that day.

But, it's when she hears the voice from above that Nicole truly panics. The fear she feels when the.... thing... calls her teacher's name makes her want to vomit and run all at the same time. "Fuck.. fuck... fuck..." She is scrambling to her feet, trying to calm her breathing a bit when it descends! The thing, spider, human, thing, descends! She puts the back of her hand to her mouth, trying to ease back the wave of fear nausea, her mind going a bit dizzy, surely from being hit by ceiling tiles and not the build up of adrenaline-fueled glimmer sparking inside of her. She feels it, like electricity arching, itching over her skin on her back, her neck, her arms until it makes her body shudder and she flails out her arms. When she does this, a ball of flame shoots from her hand towards the thing, smashing into it and hopefully catching it ablaze!

The look on her face is pure 'did I do that?'

The scary looking Mexican kid continues on his slow roll as ceiling tiles fall and shatter to pieces, and that oily, sleek monster out of some sort of nightmare's revealed one wriggling tentacle at a time. He's given momentary pause, and scrambles back a couple of steps as one spindly arm whips out a little too close for comfort. Then reaches under his jacket to tug out what reveals itself to be a battered looking pocket knife. Flick as the blade's snapped open, and he continues toward Byron with a look in his eye like he's going to gut the other kid.

Except all he's got in mind is for him to, "Hold still while I get this off you, yeah?" He means the plant that's holding his leg fast. Javier drops into a crouch so he can take a few sharp slashes at it, working fast while keeping half an eye on the ceiling. "Though I fucking swear, if you know what's going on here and you're not talking, I'm gonna knock your teeth out." He doesn't remember the guy's name, though he knows his shoes are probably worth more than Javier's house. He sets his jaw, and he works, grimy fingers knowing that knife's hilt a little too well.

"Fuck fuck fuck," Alexander screams at the horror as the power pours out of him in a torrent. "Fuck you, I didn't promise anything! STOP MAKING SHIT UP! I'm tired of it! I KNOW THE TRUTH!" There's something needy and desperate in that, even accompanied as it is by a spirited attempt to blow the horror apart. For a moment, it seems to be working, and he hobbles forward a bit. Then there's that reversal, and that sound, and he knows this is just feeding them. He's crying a little, but it's as much from fury as anything else.

The other teacher catches his attention, just briefly. He stares at her. But, at the same time, she has a point. "Run, kids," he barks at the class. "Follow her out, get away from this fucking building and you do not stop and you don't look back!" And with that, he jumps forward, trying to beat the thing to death with his ruler. Or maybe just distract it long enough for the students to flee - because his expression is tired and grim and furious and sad all at the same time.

As if he's just gonna leave Alexander to fight that thing alone and get eaten. The beam of lightning stops, but then Joe's reaching to snag the 'teacher's' arm and try to drag Clayton towards the hole the desk made. They've got to get out, this isn't a fight they can win.

Cecil scrambles out from under the desk. Ruh? He can do that! Barely. Seeing this poor kid in gym is just... well, it's sad. He weighs 98lbs soaking wet. His aura draws dodge balls naturally. After a lap around the gym, he's ready to collapse. Look, he was a sick little kid, all right? They say, like, he almost died. All this to say he tries to run for his life, but it's more like a dork lope he can't maintain for long.

Byron's wearing scuffed up boots which he had to purchase himself with the money he makes from working two part-time jobs. Not that his mother ever tends to his well-being now that her husband was dead. But who knows, maybe Javier's family is just really dirt poor. Either way, the Byron Thorne that he encounters isn't the one that the school knows who is quick to laugh nor the one to offer inspiring words to his friends. No, this was wild and wide-eyed Byron who is very certain that the spider wants to consume him.

Even after the light show leaves him panting for breath and rocking in his seat, he's ready to dish out more where that came from. He's surprised to see the new kid, Javier, brandishing a blade to help cut him out of the vines.

Thank god, he speaks English! Byron's not as rude as Lilith to just come out and say that. Normally, this is the side of himself that Byron Thorne tries to hide. But this is a different fear than what he's used to. His eyes are not wet with tears and he doesn't freeze in place. In fact, he just wants to get the fuck out of here like everyone else. "I don't know what you're talking about!" He calls out to Ruiz, "But let's get the hell out of here before we find out what's actually going on."

FREEDOM! His arms and legs are freed from the hugging vines and he's up. "Thanks." He says before he plans his escape. But where was Lilith this whole time? He was so panicked and fear stricken that he didn't notice. "Lilith!" He tries to steer far away from the spider. "Lilith, let's get out /NOW/." When he spots her, he makes a dash to grab her arm and drag her out if she plans on dilly dallying.

First thing Lily notices once she has a metal jagged desk leg in hand is that dude from Tiajuana approaching Byron with a switchblade and she almost does the thing scrappy bitches do in that situation. Lunging over a desk to shortcut to the pair and avoid the creeptastic things happening around, she makes as if to swing on his back and stops short when she realizes Byron is being freed from a plant and not shanked.

Oh, that makes more sense. Yes. The pipe marginally lowers and she looks at Byron with wild eyes once he's freed and grabs a hold of her to bid hurried motion out of the room. But the room right now is kind of a problem in and of itself with the dark amassing from the ceiling fanning out and dropping as a terrible threat. And there's pieces of ceiling and desks and whatever else, getting to the hall and door is a choke path...

Initially, she starts to fight Byron with tugging in the opposite direction, she can't use her words for what she thinks is about to happen. Why is she pulling them straight at a wall, there's no way OUT on that side of the...

The wall to the supposed outside that the windows are on cracks, then blows to make them a rather direct path 'out' to safety.

Yes, safety. Right?

A voice cracks through the noise and chaos, shattering it like glass, rendering all else a dull roar - at least where Alexander's concerned. <<Mr. A, you need to get out of here. Please. Who else is gonna give me shit about Teddy Roosevelt and the Square Deal? Come on. Save the heroics for another day.>> Javier's looking right at Alexander as those thoughts echo through the link, and then it's broken, and he goes to make sure that nerdy blond kid who volunteered at first isn't still being fucking stupid somewhere and refusing to leave, too. If he is? He's getting bodily shoved out the door.

Nope. Nope, nope, noooooooope. Vyv is absolutely not on board with this particular being cherished forever, and it really doesn't require two teachers insisting they run to persuade him that seems like a really good idea. Though it doesn't hurt, either. There's a flicker of a glance back at Mr. A as the man continues hacking with the ruler despite his own advice, but there's no point in everyone dying, right? So he runs. Behind him, the desks begin to quiver, though not immediately to move...

You don't have to tell her twice. Hell, the other teacher lady didn't really need to tell her at all! When Nicole sees the thing consume the fire, the electricity, she knows there is nothing to be done. When she sees that it seems to be multiplying, well, the switch to 'Fuck this shit, I'm out' is turned on. She's not wanting to leave anyone behind though, but everyone else seems to be getting aid, those who need it. Even Alexander seems to be having no say in the matter. She is looking for the nearest exit and taking off for it as fast as her Converse'd feet will take her!

That appears to be a giant hole in the wall that cracks under the hateful gaze and fury of Lilith.

Dodging desks and whatever else she needs to, Nicole runs for it. She spots Itzhak there and rushes towards him, trying to grab his hand, "Come on!" No person left behind for that... thing.