Volleyball had never been her specialty. Here in the town of Lockport, Illinios things were no different. She dove about trying to get good contact on the ball but never earned her team any points, just bitter laughter from whoever they were versing. Most of her team was a set of gossiping girls, the loudest of the group clearly the leader and most drama insuing. The rest was one boy who already labled her a burden, a tall boy who looked built for foot ball. His skills backed up this theory but like most jocks in high school his mistakes in this game were ignored. Besides him there was another boy who stood three rotations from her never doing much. He hadn't dressed still in his baggy jeans and zip up sweater. This boy's eyes seeed glazed over and uncaring, like glass. She couldn't see a color difference from the pupil and rest of the eye. Everything thing in them was a inky black.
Another echo erupted through the gym, a low hollow sound. Something smacked into the floor then Issabelle's stomach. The world tilted. The ground leaped. Suddenly her knees were against the hard wood floor and her palms were down, finger splayed. Her lungs seemed to implode. A cough escaped her lips. Around her some people laughed while others sighed, letting their dislike for her being known. But she was new? What could she have possibly done to piss them off so bad? Giving up on that and other thoughts she pushed the ball away and got up slowly. Still the world tilted a bit. A gray coat of dust covered her hands from the fall. Instinctivly wiping them on the back of her shorts, she didn't hear the start of an argument between the jock on her team and another guy. Still the boy with black eyes leaned against the wall uninvolved. His voice filled the air. She was taken off guard by the enourmous charisma it held, "Can you two please shut up for the sake of us all." Issabelle stared thoughtfully at him.
"Shut up emo-boy go play the violin on your wrist," he imitated dragging a razor across his forearm.
Ignoring all the other comments the boy snarled "Dufort," in correction.
The other jock rolled his eyes while bouncing the ball clumsily between his legs and to the server. "Jessica Rocla" read her shirt. A couple of the people in school had been talking about her, realized Issabelle. Jessica raised the ball up smashing into Issabelle's abdomin again. Again ballance left her and coughing took its place. Issabelle wanted for the life of her to scream "Do you have a problem with me or something?!" but knew it wasn't a smart move to disrespect the popular kids. So she stayed quiet. Dufort walked over, looking like he'd give her a hand. Suddenly she wasn't conscious of her want to strangle Jessica or go home and lay down screaming to her pillow just how terrible this school was. Now all she was concentrated on was Dufort.
His hair was the ever-growing-popular "emo cut", fanning over his left eye completely. Somehow it harmanized his face shape and made the one visable eye even more mysterious. His jaw was elegant, as was his face. The sweater zipped all the way to the top of his neck giving off a sort of snow boarer look. His pants were unrealistically baggy, more hooked on by protruding hip bones and a black studded belt than anything else. At his thighs thin trails of bleached color, as if fingers had seared off the blue tint, stood out among the uniform blue and white threading. Further down his figure the pants seemed to engulf him in an ocean of ruffled blue denim. When they finally reached Dufort's feet a foot or two of the pant legs were rolled up, nearly covering the tongue of his skate shoes. For some reason Dufort seemed predatary to her. No matter what she thought about he couldn't be contained by what she imagined.
Now his hand reached down towars her. But...passed her. Instead his fingers gripped around the ball that had just been driven into her. Retrieving it from between her thighs he let out a self confident scoff. In a moment the roar of the gym and people's laughter burst back filling her ears. "What are they laughing at?" she wondered before realizing it was her. Without realizing it she had reached her hand out for salvation, to be rescued off the dirty gymnasium floor. Suddenly all the embarrassment stabbed her like a sharp blade drilling into her now sputtering heart and carving out tears as if they were precious crystals. Keep it together! she urged herself. Swallowing her pride, heart, and tears she pushed herself up. Half way Dufort's voice caught her attention again, "Jonathon. Heads up. Set it up to them, I want revenage," the words came from deep within him like a snarl. Jonathon nodded hesitantly. It now was obvious Dufort didn't talk to people directly very often. While the ball made its way back to the sporty server Dufort pulled out an I-Pod, swinging the D.J. like head phones around his neck. With a click the I-Pod began blaring heavy metal she herself listened to. Soon the girl raised her arm like a toast to the Gods before sending it over the net with a snap of cordinated motion. Jonathon launched his large frame into the air, barely getting the ball back over with an awkward set. A lanky boy with long powerful looking muscles ran up to the net smacking the ball over. In that moment Dufort sprung, his arm flashed from his pockets. Suddenly the ball flew over the net. Without missing a beat Dufort dove his hands back into his pockets. The large boy from the other team bounced up smacking the ball towards the defencless Issabelle. In that one second she missed something. All she saw was Dufort move, a blur of shadows. Then heard the jock hit the floor gasping. Laying on the floor he cursed, gasped, and gagged struggling to get up. Clutched to his chest was the ball. A crowd of students began flocking, asking what had happened or mocking the boy. Mrs Garvil, the hypocritical and startlingly wide gym teacher approuched the throng of cackling students screaming for them to quiet down. After number a screams most the students backed off and let her speak to the still wheezing jock. When asked what happened he straightened up, saying it was done by Dufort and was unneccisary and unsports-man-like; which Issabelle couldn't help agreeing with, though the fact this boy was tattling annoyed her.
"Where's he?!" she bellowed. Following her natural reaction to authority she pointed to his rotation spot, upper right corner. Only it was blank. Now it seemed barren without the beautiful boy centered within it, with his forboding eyes and wild but well hidden power. Now she noticed the lack of raging guitar chords. "Go get dressed I'll take care of this," announced Mrs. Garvil as if it weren't her job. Issabelle stood taking in this gym teacher disbelievingly, her wide figure hardly held in check by the all too tight addidas track pants and matching outfit. "Get dressed!" the woman barked impatiantly. Issabelle looked at her confused and lost. Then slowly took in her suroundings realizing she was now alone in the gymnassium staring at the gargantuan woman.
"Dress! Right! Got it!" she yelped jogging down the hall, turning a corner through the trophy hall. Not many students walked through here, she remembered, making it a haven for students wishing to make out during school hours.
A light hum of sound filled the hall as she jogged. Down a corridor to her right she could tell it got louder. Curiosity got the better of her, cautiously she jogged down the hall imagining all sorts of farfetched ideas of why this was a bad idea. Instead of a mass murderer or some confined demon recently let loose she found Dufort holding a girl who was beyond beauty itself. A glint off his eyes halted her, about tweleve yards away. Slowly he leaned down planting a kiss against the girls cheek before whispering something. Issabelle figured it was some sort of sweet nothing of love. Envy slithered its way around her heart. She'd never really been a center of attention for boys, scratch that, a boy. Most the time it was a scornful snicker if she even asked them to a date.
Behind the couple stood a large burgendy stair case, coated in slip proof plastic. Soundlessly Dufort led the girl up these steps, caressing her fingers as he went. Hypnotized the girl followed. Issabelle got the same impression of downing power from this girl.
"Dufort," whispered the girl a grin spreading her red lips, "aren't we supposed to be meeting Zetsu and the others?"
Dufort's eyes rolled back to the whites, a radical change in color.
"Fine," he huffed, hopping off the stairs and stepping down the hallway Issabelle stood in. The two traveled with long, gracfull strides, though Dufort's were disturbingly silent. Or it may have been the fact the heavy bellowing lyrics had been nearly echoing, drowning most other sounds.
The girl looked back at Issabelle with an angry glare, though there was a sort of wondering shine to her onyx eyes. Dufort didn't break stride and swept off towing the girl along. "Come on Vaira," he snapped.
Issabelle sprinted past them and over a set of stairs, across the largest of three gyms and into a changing room. Unfortunatly switching the maroon clothes out for her own more comfortable ones only kept her hands busy. Against her will her thoughts got dragged back to the girl she assumed was one of Dufort's many girlfriends. The girl had all the desired charaturistics of someone sexy. Long legs, that widened out into outset hips, in turn slimming down to her flat stomach, her chest was enough to make the "bullet for my valentine" tee tight. Issabelle guessed it was Dufort's, taken by the right of a girlfriend. By the time her thoughts were managable she noticed she'd been standing in the room pointlessly staring into her orange and aqua green locker. Finally noticing the gang of girls gawking at her, probably getting ready to tell the story so everyone knew exactly how weird she was, Issabelle grabbed her Biology text-book and notes before jogging around the corner, past the girls and catapaulting herself over the steps. Masses of students had flooded the gym and she traveled through turning to fit between tightly packed crowds, struggling to keep a light trotting pace up.
Jessica shoulderer her forcfully, popping seemingly out of no where. Issabelle's Bio book flew over the floor and her spiral's rings dug into her skin.
"Oops," Jessica mocked letting Issabelle know it was far from an accident, "watch your step hun." Blood rushed to Issabelle's face and she could feel its hot kiss under her skin. Despite her want to tell this girl to do something rather profane to herself Issabelle subdued her strife with a gulp and stepped around the popular hag after fishing back her text book.
Streams of students stepped through the main halls littering them with useless chadder and rumor. Issabelle tried best not to shove or be stepped on as she made her way towards another stair case identical to the one in the trophy hall. Issabelle shuffled down letting the gossip fall into a light whisper behind her. Someone collided with her. His black hair flew back as he spun into a defencive stance, like she'd purposly tackled him and was going to again.
"Watch it," he sighed relaxing his posture, letting a dark sorrow fall into his voice. The sadness groped at her heart, tightening with every beat like a gluttonous serpent. She couldn't help but feel like she'd tried launching him down the stairs, though she knew better. Underneath his sheep dog like bangs rested a pair of deep black eyes staring back with nostalgia. "Exscuse me," he moved around her pausing briefly, "please," he added before bounding up the steps several at a time. Issabelle stared off watching him long after he'd left her sight.
