Class Distinctions [Riley Coleson]
Sept 15, 2013 21:48:48 GMT -5
Post by Clement Evans on Sept 15, 2013 21:48:48 GMT -5
Before coming to Vermont, school had been a place to go to get out of being at home and very little else. Well... also a place to get into fights, but since Xavier, Clement had steered clear of confrontations. To do this meant keeping a great deal to himself, but that was alright. The people at Hammel were all confusing, and there was still a lot for Clement to get his head around from back in California.
For most of his classes, Clement had a book and a folder, or at the very least a book with his homework sheets stuck in it. But for English, he had two workbooks, a dictionary with a magnifier bookmark in it, a textbook, a folder, and a notebook big enough that it couldn't be stuffed inside a folder pocket. All in the name of getting his vocabulary and grammar up to grade level (and hopefully beyond, considering that Clement was three grades below where he ought to've been). But, in Clement's opinion, it was a fucking lot of stuff to carry around and it did nothing to improve his view on the subject.
Later, when he thought about it, he wouldn't know if it had been not paying attention or his bad eyesight that had made him crash into the guy. Clement never saw him, but it was like running into a wall. His English stuff tumbled to the floor and his lower arms armored to the elbows in surprise. Shutting his eyes against the pain of transforming, when he opened them, his books and papers were all over the hallway.
For most of his classes, Clement had a book and a folder, or at the very least a book with his homework sheets stuck in it. But for English, he had two workbooks, a dictionary with a magnifier bookmark in it, a textbook, a folder, and a notebook big enough that it couldn't be stuffed inside a folder pocket. All in the name of getting his vocabulary and grammar up to grade level (and hopefully beyond, considering that Clement was three grades below where he ought to've been). But, in Clement's opinion, it was a fucking lot of stuff to carry around and it did nothing to improve his view on the subject.
Later, when he thought about it, he wouldn't know if it had been not paying attention or his bad eyesight that had made him crash into the guy. Clement never saw him, but it was like running into a wall. His English stuff tumbled to the floor and his lower arms armored to the elbows in surprise. Shutting his eyes against the pain of transforming, when he opened them, his books and papers were all over the hallway.
