grow up & be kids [elliot]

Yeager grinned as he looked up from the table, a grape in the spoon that he aimed toward his buddy sitting at the table across from him. He flicked it and the fruit catapulted and hit the back of the poor guy’s head. The Earth student turned and narrowed his eyes at Yeager. ”The fuck?” he said, and Yeager just returned to talking to the Water next to him. Unfortunately, this made him oblivious to the container of yogurt hurtling his way until it hit his face. ”Yo, yo,” he said warningly, kicking the container away when it landed on the floor. ”You are so lucky that that was not open.” Heads would roll if his clothes were messed up. He was wearing Versace, and these fools had better recognize. Unfortunately, everyone around him got the hint. His table was filled with Water students, which was clearly bad news. It only took a few more thrown food items for it to be all out war.

He enjoyed his fun, he really did, but he would enjoy it more if he was not wearing designer at this moment in time. His scarf cost more than his buddy’s shirt—they had discussed it, and figured it out—and he’d be damned if he let a pork chop hit it. ”Peace,” he said to the group of students, standing and bringing the plastic bag that held his lunch with him. Lunch had only just begun and it was already out of control. The devil in him was proud that he caused such rowdiness, the fashion icon in him detested the idea of his shirt being smeared in god knows what. He headed down the halls, wondering whether or not he should eat in the bathrooms like a loser when he got a better idea. Now, he didn’t like school because he didn’t like working, but that didn’t mean he hated his teachers. He just liked to cause a bit of trouble for them.

Yeager found the classroom and adjusted his scarf, smirking a bit to himself. Ah, he knew he looked fly any given moment in time. He knocked on the door and greeted the woman with a cheery smile when he entered her classroom. "To hang out with my favorite teacher, of course." He rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. Then he opted for the truth. He did like her, after all, even if he enjoyed messing with her more. "Started a food fight in the mess hall. Had to haul ass out of there." Yeager held a finger up to his lips. "Don't snitch, thanks." He held up the bag in his hand, the lunch he didn’t really have a desire to eat, even though he was capable of consuming iron. ”Mind if I eat in here? Or are ya busy?” As much as he enjoyed messing with her, he also wasn’t rude. His parents taught him better than that, and even though he was sure he let the two down a lot, he was capable of upholding their values.

Yeager tilted his head back. "Ah, built in breaks," he said. "If only I had the liberty." Right, as if he didn't already take as many breaks as possible with his mixture of procrastination and pro 'the fucks I don't give' ideology. He was at least pretty good at work. Only got into a few arguments with his boss, which was amazing. The Water boy didn't have as intense as a temper, but he could still get pissed. He laughed, rocking back in a chair the way that his teachers used to freak out about in grade school. He got a taste of why whenever the legs slipped and it felt like he was doing a back flip into the grand canyon. "It was the grape that was heard around the world, Thomas," he said. "Wasn't my intention to to start a war, honest. And then a container of yogurt was thrown, and shit just got real." If a few people were doing it, that meant everyone else felt they could join in, as well. "Not even a fire student, ma'am. No siree. I'm on my best behavior." He gave his best charming facade as he stabbed at a lettuce leaf with his fork. Nala, of course, knew him better. Knew all the Water students better. The Fires were like their prey, they enjoyed messing around with the other element. It was their specialty.

He rolled his eyes when she told him that keeping her company was not extra credit. His plans, foiled again! She saw through him, clearly. His eyes danced with amusement. "But don't you know, I just want to bask in the glory of your beauty," he said, touching a hand to his chest. He shook his head. "Like Shakespeare said, 'Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate, rough winds do shake the darling buds of May...and so on.'" He would rather not say how he knew at least part of that poem, it was a part of his past that did not to be dug up by a teacher. Quite embarrassing, that would end up being. Not that he was a modest person, to boot. "I think he's saying you're beautiful now, but you're gonna get ugly. So give me some time to come up with a better sonnet..." As if he knew many more. He couldn't say he was the most intelligent person. All the adult figures in his life said he had potential--which he never understood, considering he never made effort to show any. "Hey, can I get extra credit for knowing Shakespeare? Because he was a dude in history..." He took his hand off the fork to gesture with it, holding his arm wide as if accepting her praise that she had yet to give.

If Yeager was being honest, he would have admitted that maybe a food fight had been in the back of his mind. He was Elliot Yeager, what did one expect from him? Best behavior all the time? He could have scoffed. That was definitely not his deal. As Nala smiled and explained the truth behind the sonnet, he gave a crooked little smile. He didn't have an opinion on Shakespeare, because he kind of didn't really care about literature and anything that had to do with school. "Then he was superficial! That's it, we should not learn about him in school anymore, he teaches poor values." He pointed his fork at Nala, his face very serious n that Yeager way which meant that he was not serious at all. Any way to get something out of the school system, Yeager was for it. "Haha, you mean he batted for both teams? But I heard that he didn't even exist. He was just a bunch of people who collaborated together." He didn't know what to make of that because he wasn't good at history either, but he figured it was because no one else had really written about him, spoke about him. Or he didn't know. Whatever. It was interesting enough to know that the man was bi.

She questioned how he knew Shakespeare, and he mocked offense, holding a hand against his chest. It was quite the feminine gesture. "Thomas, are you doubting my intelligence? Do you not think I'd read in my spare time? Honestly, you must think I'm some kind of degenerate who sits on the porch spitting tobacco and drinking moonshine." Any way to deter the teacher from the truth of where his knowledge came from, but at least he didn't think he'd blush in telling it. He wasn't the blushing sort of person. Modesty had been lost far too long ago for it to affect him now. He tilted his head at her words, asking when she finished, "...Who?" As if that didn't make it quite obvious that he never read on his own and he was a straight up liar. "Do you mean like, the Oscar guy? He wrote about some Earnest shit." He'd been forced to read an excerpt of it last year, and he didn't quite understand what had been going on there. And his teacher was not fond of explaining, so he'd been in the dark.

He did not show how amused he was by the teacher's false wonderment at his grasp of the academic world. Instead, he gave her an incredulous look. "As a matter of fact, I just finished my magnum opus in oil paint. I call it 'What I Have To Prove To My History Teacher'. It'll be in a gallery soon." If he cared more, he could totally master something like that, be an artist. Or a writer. Or an overall productive member of society. Right now he was just delivering Chinese, that was it. He was still in high school, after all. "Overrated, I say. If we want to learn more about modern English, we use Tweets for example. That's what the language has come to, after all." Or periodicals. Who read books anymore? Even if people did, it was usually in the form of a Nook or a Kindle. Lucas had one, one that his children were not allowed to touch. They weren't allowed to touch many things, and with good reason. It would end up disappearing, or more likely breaking.

Yeager acquired a pensive expression, as if considering the merits of a man who wrote these books. It was obvious that they did not mean anything to him. He wasn't a big reader. He was more of a doer. At least, that's what he told his English teachers whenever he didn't read the assign books. "Wait, wait. I think I saw that Dorian Grey movie. He had the picture that aged while he stayed young forever, right?" The only thing was he couldn't remember if he had even liked that movie. And he wasn't about to go check out a book. What was he...a book person? He blinked at the mention of Fifty Shades of Grey, a book he couldn't get away from and was actually tempted to read. "My grandmother is reading that," he muttered. "She reads a lot more than me, maybe you should talk to her about Oscar Wilde. But I must warn you, she might try to shank you." Well, the old bat did get along better with other people than her own family. She was just a bitter and insane old woman. Just in his own opinion, but he was sure Lucas would agree.

"From what I know, that one was by Anonymous, and I am not willing to divulge." And if there was any doubt, he wanted to assure her that the one drawing dicks in his notebook were his friends, and not him. Not something he had a particular fixation on, no, even though he was guilty of doing the same thing to others' notebooks. Boys will be boys, and all that. He snorted when she sipped from her coffee. "I'm sure that's how every teacher feels. Meanwhile, my generation can't remember how to spell out 'your'." Thanks to the advent of the iPhone and touchscreens with querty keyboards, there was little of that anymore. Unfortunately, people still felt the need to abbreviate everything. "And it's actually not just teenagers. My parents can't text to save their lives. Well, my mom can. My dads...no." He called her 'mom' to other people out of habit, but he always referred to her by her name. But it was the opposite with his parents, who he spoke to calling them 'dad' but talked to them with other people. Just so they knew that he had two dads.

Nala's reaction to his granny reading that book was pretty funny to him. He poked at a piece of lettuce with his fork. "Her interests span far and wide, you see. And she has a bigger social life than me. And more pot." He looked up at Nala. "I should not be telling you about that. It's medicinal. For arthritis." That's what she claimed she had, but it was obvious that she used it for recreational purposes. She was still young, as far as old people go, and he didn't believe that she actually needed to smoke. Especially not when she crashed his car, and that he was still bitter about. "That is a good proposal in theory, but you see...that requires effort. Now I like to spend my time outdoors, absorbing the sun, frolicking in the water." Yeager frolicking was an amusing image, and unfortunately not very hard to picture whatsoever. He looked masculine, oftentimes behaved the same way, however he did have his spazz moments which left room for doubt of his orientation. Yeager threw up his hand. "It's a lost art, I tell you. But Ms. Thomas, you should go back to school. They force you to read. And you'll blend in just fine, as youthful as you are." He waggled his eyebrows, leaving no room at all for suggestion.

Yeager clucked his tongue at his teacher, shaking his head. Mister anonymous would rather his secrets be kept safe, wouldn't he? ”I don't know if the artist would appreciate that. You see, art is not about the creator it is about the observer and how the observer interprets said art.” He nodded steadily, the cat-like smile curling at his lips suggesting he had more to do with it than he let on. Of course, Nala already knew that. It was just a matter of keeping himself from getting into any possible trouble. And besides, what he said was true, and for once he wasn't just pulling words out of his ass.

The boy honestly believed that autcorrect was in fact the downfall of the twenty-first century. Espeically when he got a text from a friend, and a string of three texts afterward, apologizing because autocorrect predicted they wanted to write 'gay' instead of 'hey'. ”I don't know, I think parents should just not have phones. My dad doesn't believe in punctuation instead he let's sentences just...happen.” And it took quite a while for Yeager to interpret that his father wanted him to check the stove and make sure the doors were locked before leaving did Gloria get to school okay? He'd prefer his parents just call him.

With a laugh, Yeager took his time before setting his teacher straight. She needed to know what was on the up and up. ”In fact, I can frolic, you have never seen me out in the lake have you?” He frolicked quite gaily, as a matter of fact, something he should not say out loud for risk of people taking it in the modern way and not the Jane Austin way. His eyebrows shot up when the woman claimed that she was going to go back to school. ”What? You know I was kidding about you going back, school sucks. I mean, you're an awesome teacher and all, but holy crap. No. Save yourself.” She got out of the system, why would she want to get back in? She was free. Well, not completely because she was teaching, but she was pretty much off the hook with homework. Now she had to grade homework. He didn't realize that she might actually like being educated, because he didn't.

He leaned back in his seat and grinned. ”Ohohoho, confident too! The whole package.” Of course she was just playing along with him instead of doing what some teachers might and give him a disapproving look. That look never stopped him anyway. Yeager looked at the clock, too, and groaned, dropping his head to the desk. Lifting it back up, he said, ”Algebra. I have to retake it because I failed last year.” He held his thumb upside down and blew a raspberry. It definitely wasn't something he was proud of, especially because his parents didn't even punish him, just gave him those looks.