Seizing the Day

Chapter Three: 'Angering Your Writer, 101'

JACK KELLY

"...And congratulations to the Chess Club for their invigorating win over last year's reigning champions, the Staten Island Squires!"

Jack groaned loudly as he rubbed his temples, trying his best to pay attention to the podium, and failing miserably. He knew the teachers found the assemblies important; he'd received countless lectures on the necessity of understanding what was going on in the school community, and supporting their fellow classmates and their achievements, but this was becoming brutal.

The Institute generally tried for one gathering per month, which, had Jack reflected on it, wasn't really all that bad. There were, in fact, other schools in Manhattan that required an assembly per week, or for the students to recite the national anthem every morning and afternoon. In comparison, their school's mandate seemed pretty relaxed; but that didn't make the experience any more enjoyable.

One glance to the left proved that even the chess team didn't appear to be all that excited about their 'thrilling' victory and that Mrs. Bulcan was probably wasting her breath; a sad thing too, seeing as she appeared to be about as old as the dinosaurs, and surely couldn't have much breath left to give out willy-nilly.

Jack wondered, fleetingly, if the elderly teacher had ever met Ms. Cardinal, and whether or not the two would have gotten along. After a moment, he deduced that yes, they likely would have. Both women were strict, though Mrs. Bulcan was sweeter, although she'd once called him 'Mack' for an entire semester without ever realizing her mistake. How it was that she'd never noticed, he didn't understand; his name had been written clear as day on the attendance list from his first time in her class, and it wasn't as if his classmates never called him out by name. It had been a shock to receive his report card with the correct spelling until Davey later confided in him that Mr. Denton had fixed Mrs. Bulcan's error when he noticed Jack's papers sitting on the staff photocopier.

It had been like this for the past twenty minutes. As usual, there was the constant appraisal of various individuals and groups, only to receive quarter-hearted applause. The incessant chatter in that one part of the room that never seemed to let up, despite the shushing of multiple teachers, continued to buzz. Then there was another matter entirely- how uncomfortable it was to sit in the same place, bored out of your mind, surrounded by stuffy, dead air, and the rest of your school. It was blatant torture, and Jack wanted nothing more than to run from the over-crowded room, but he settled for restlessly bouncing his knee, though this meant he was also consequently jolting his leg up and down against Kid Blink's back.

The one-eyed teen turned to glare at him, after putting up with a minimal amount of jiggling, but the effort seemed almost pointless as he merely shrugged, and turned around again, too bored to care. Beside him, Crutchie was tugging hopelessly at a loose string on his sweater, probably only making the situation worse, and Mush had yawned three times in the last minute, at least that Jack had seen, and was resting his head back on a grimacing Racetrack's scrawny knees.

"This is just gettin' ridiculous." The dark-haired teen grumbled, pretending he couldn't see the teacher that instantly whipped around at the sound of another voice speaking out of turn and gave him a clear look that read 'quiet down!'.

"Seems like they're handin' out awards for every branch of mediocrity they can, these days." Mush commented dully, lacking his normal cheerful spunk, "What d'ya' think I could get a shiny medal for, fellas?"

"Most wasted potential?" Blink offered dryly, smirking as Mush immediately let out a drawling 'Heeeyyy!' of protest. A petty war soon ensued, with Mush kicking Kid's shoulder repeatedly, leaving dusty shoe prints all over the back of the other teen's blue NYI volleyball hoodie, while Blink continuously let out muffled noises of protest, occasionally smacking a hand at Mush's battered Converses. The two boys got more than their fair share of glares from the teachers, but nobody stepped in to intervene, as there was a transition at the podium.