Someday [Darryl]

[Emiko Nakajima]

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Emiko was one of those strange healthy people who did not believe in three set meals a day.

In general, Emiko was not one to sit down and eat dinner or lunch unless she was with someone. She brought food to work of course, but most of the time it went into her desk drawer for her to snack on throughout the day. Some people believed that it was unhealthy and scolded her for it (her mother was one of these people) but Emiko maintained her habit, pointing out her dress size was still in the lower single digits to anyone who tried to contradict her. When she first came to America she was in awe and at the same time disgusted by the local’s eating habits. They ate so much, and they ate such disgusting looking food. She watched a student devour a triangular slice of ‘pizza’ in a restaurant in town, and she almost gagged when she saw grease dripping off of the offending specimen of foodstuffs onto a paper plate, soaking into it almost on contact like acid.

However, despite Emiko’s disdain for formal eating times, she still had an hour long lunch break. As of late, she had been moving away from the staff lounge and had even started eating in the Security Office instead, opting out of social interaction in order to get down to work. She needed to find out more about MSAD. Besides, she had been having a strange time around the school- the students, while keeping a distance, kept staring at her and she had heard murmurs of the word ‘Ninja’. She was not a ninja. In fact, she was far from it. True, she had qualities that would qualify, but she was not a full-fledged shinobi by any standards. The very idea that she might have been mistaken for one would have shocked and offended her, had it not been for her uncaring attitude toward the subject. If her acting like a ninja kept students at a distance, then wrap her in black and give her a kunai, it was time for a career change.

If there was one thing the Japanese woman did not like more than being called a sneaking, black-clad assassin, it was getting back cramps because she had been sitting too long. She decided she would take her lunch break and walk around, than get back to work. She was not going to take the full hour, maybe just fifteen minutes or so, she told herself. Work first, play later. She stood and stretched, grabbing her purse from its place as she left the office. She bought some vitamin water from a vending machine in the hall and headed to the staff lounge to see who else was eating at this hour. However, on her way over she passed Mr. Bond’s classroom and couldn’t help but knock at the open door. “Mr. Bond?” She called, looking in to see if he was inside. She had never seen him eat in the staff lounge, but maybe he went out to eat. She knew some teachers preferred that course of action rather than eating the school lunch.

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[Darryl Bond]

Darryl, often times, had himself a large breakfast, a small lunch, and if he got home early, cooked himself some dinner that he would then keep the leftovers for lunch the next day; rinse, repeat. Today's lunch involved a sub sandwich, an apple, and a soda from the vending machine. His lunch break came with his students, and usually he had traipsed into the staff lounge to eat his lunch with his peers and idly chat.

However, things weren't exactly peaceful. He'd gotten a very nice lady on the staff pregnant, messed up a perfectly good relationship with another lady on the staff, and well...he was scared of what he was going to do next. He tried to steer clear of the staff lounge nowadays unless his meal called for the microwave, then he had to venture into the dangerous territory. He was content to eat his lunch in his room, on most days--like today--because he couldn't mess anything up when he was by himself. He did suppose, he could go eat in the cafeteria with the rest of the student body, but Darryl had hated to eat that food even when he attended Hammel as a student.

He was seated contentedly behind his desk with his lunch folded out before him, he was halfway through his apple, his eyes wandered around the room while he bit away the apple. Their progress for Sweeney Todd was agonizingly slow. The students either had a hard time getting along long enough to work through a scene, or just didn't care enough to put forth the effort to memorize their lines, or remember the stage directions. He had just taken another bite from his apple when there was a knock on his door, he turned and looked, half expecting another student, when he saw that it was Emiko.

He stood up respectively, figuring she was here to talk business about something. "Ms. Emiko," he was aware at that moment he wasn't positive about what her last name was, and felt a bit bad about that. "What can I do for you?" He remembered their conversation the other night, and had greatly appreciated her help. He wasn't exactly sure what his visit was for, but he was happy to see her.