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| [fancypost bgcolor=transparent; border: 2px solid #D1D1D1; height:70px; width: 50px;background:url(http://static.tumblr.com/3ccd2…tpnw4ce84gso84owo4gwo.gif) top center; background-size: 100%; margin-top: -3px; margin-left: -12px;][/fancypost] | [fancypost bgcolor=transparent;border: 2px solid #D1D1D1; height: 70px; width: 50px; background:url(http://67.media.tumblr.com/812…nr08365W5q1s9gd3b_500.png) top center; background-size: 100%; margin-top: -3px; margin-left: -1px;][/fancypost] | [fancypost bgcolor=transparent; bordercolor=transparent; font-family: arial; font-style: italics; font-size: 20px; letter-spacing: -1px; text-align: left; width: 230px; height: 10px; margin-top: -2px; margin-left: -4px; text-transform: uppercase;][b]Braylon James Hale[/fancypost] [fancypost bgcolor=transparent; bordercolor=transparent; font-family: arial; font-style: italics; font-size: 18.8px; letter-spacing: -1px; text-align: justify; width: 230px; height: 20px; margin-top: 1px; margin-left: -3px; text-transform: uppercase; line-height: 89%;]I don't care if I sing off key, I sing for love I sing for me![/fancypost] |
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Traditionally, Braylon avoided young troubled men such as these like the plague. Although he managed to make it to his dormitory without so much as a hiccup (aside from his getting temporarily lost), his over imaginative mind plagued him with the possible outcomes tomorrow may bring. How was he expected to learn anything when he was in a school full of class clowns? He had once known a boy by the name of Isaac Rivers. Isaac, who'd been in his class during the latter end of fifth grade, had once stood in front of the class when their usual teacher was absent and said that Braylon was a wannabe. He got sent to the principals office often for incidents similar to the one he just shared, and he had irritated the long haired lad until he moved back to Ireland where he'd come from. That being said, Braylon expected nothing less here. If anything, he was mentally preparing himself to have the busiest, most stressful school year of his life, and if he didn't end up with several gray, or even white, hairs, he would be thoroughly impressed with himself. It wasn't as if Braylon was strictly opposed to socializing with a few of these kids, so long as they were nice to him, but generally speaking, he found them terribly intimidating. Perhaps it was considered lame (at least here), but he'd never gotten stoned before, not even from a 'simple' drug like weed (his friend had offered him some once, but after doing some reading and finding out it affected IQ and might make his muscles twitch uncontrollably, he had graciously declined the offer as politely as possible, commenting that he had no desire to look like a twitchy toad), and he never got properly wasted. He's had a beer here and there, but drinking wasn't something he took to. Braylon liked to be in control of himself, and if there was one good piece of advice his hag of a grandmother had said to him before her passing, it was "never drink, never lose your head." He took that statement seriously. At least he could say that he has had alcohol in his possession before. He could also brag that he's had a few cigarettes before, too. It was the one thing he let his friends talk him into, but Braylon only ever smoked when a cigarette was offered to him. It wasn't a full-fledged addiction. Yet. But his parents were still traumatized to discover him in the background photo of something one of his "public school delinquent friends" shared online, in which he had a cigarette placed between his lips. It was the second reason he'd been sent to this damn school. They didn't care to listen when he explained that he wasn't addicted and would stop immediately if they promised not to send him. Maybe he would come back a smoker, simply in spite of them.
With his thorough inspection of the bed interrupted (and he noted, much to his humiliation, that he probably looked as if he were on drugs himself, glaring at innocent bedsheets that hadn't done a single thing wrong to him), Braylon simply decided that the bed was probably clean, as he hadn't spotted any bugs, and quietly heaved up some of his luggage onto his chosen bed. He opted for the one nearest to the entrance. If there was ever to be a fire, as selfish as it may sound, he was going to make it out first. Perhaps that was a tad over dramatic. Braylon's mom had mentioned once or twice that he had a dramatic flair that, when paired with his over active imagination, gave him a youthful charm that many took to, when he chose to show it. Although his focus had averted from Alex to his luggage, he glanced back at him as subtly as he could through the corners of his eyes. He was handsome, as he'd stated before, and thankfully, didn't seem as if he were suffering from withdrawal symptoms. Either he'd already had a hit today (he certainly didn't look hyped up on anything peculiar, or like Micheal did after coming down from his high after he'd taken some molly at a party) or he definitely wasn't here for an out of control drug addiction. Ironic as it may be from someone such as himself, who was agnostic, he thanked the lord for blessing him with a seemingly mentally sound roommate. He just hoped that he continued to act as he was, polite and normal, in the best of ways. With those thoughts in mind, he popped open one of his suitcases and glanced at the hair supplies and clothes he'd crammed into the small space. He suddenly wondered why he bothered packing anything but pajamas and underwear when he was going to be forced to wear a uniform almost everyday. However, he had an aunt who lived nearby (she moved here ten years ago with her husband, and they now had five children together), about half an hour away, and he was supposed to go over to her home for holidays, including their summer break, since his parents "couldn't" afford to have him come home. Braylon assumed they meant that they would rather he not come back at all, but he kept that thought to himself and clamped his lips shut as they went over the details with him. He once again toyed with the thought of revenge. He didn't plan to pursue any drastic means of vegence, like actually picking up a smoking habit or dabbling in drugs, but he still liked to imagine the faces of his parents should he choose to do so. Shaking such ridiculous thoughts from his head, Braylon turned back around to his roommate, Alex.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, mate." Braylon hummed in acknowledgement. His mother would have scolded him terribly for his rude behavior. After all, was it not impolite to turn your back on someone to whom you were just talking to? The English lad was being honest when he said that his intent was a far cry from being rude, he would simply like to get his stuff unpacked as quickly as possible so that he could get out of this stuffy room and get acquainted with this…bible school. He shook his head. His parents weren't here. It was probably best not to let them bother him all too much when there was an entire ocean that separated one another. "So what heinous crime did you commit to get locked up in this place? If you don't mind me asking, of course." The seventeen year old tried his hardest to sound casual about it, but there was an awkward edge to his voice, like the newly sharpened edge of a knife, and it sliced his attempt at indifference in two pitiful pieces. Yet Braylon figured it was much better to know why he was here than to simply guess by his appearance, and guess by his appearance he certainly did try to do. Alex looked as normal as could be. He wasn't sweaty with bags under his eyes to suggest withdrawal, he didn't look as if he (TW) suffered from any eating disorders or took to self harm, nor did he look like he was a psychopathic kid with the deranged tendency to kill and torture small animals, as said before. For which he was thankful. Maybe, Braylon thought with delight, he was simply a little too loud in school, a little disrespectful, and his parents decided to put their foot down. He would much rather bunk with someone who was a little rude and had no regard for authority than someone who was going to try and snort cocaine in their dorm together. And if Alex did, Braylon could find a way to switch roommates, couldn't he? Would it be so horrid if he did?
It was then that he glanced around. The room was a good size. It could fit two queen sized beds after all, but there still wasn't much to it. There was a dresser pushed back against the wall in front of their beds, and a closet adjacent to Braylon's (which he mentally claimed as soon as he noted it). There was a single window next to Alex's bed. Going back to the dresser, an old DVD player (which looked horribly abused in its time) was on top of it. Which didn't make sense to him until he looked up further and took note of the flatscreen tv. It was a smaller one, but at least they had some form of promised entertainment. Next to the DVD player was a small case of DVD's. Once again on Alex's side of the room, there was a small seating area, with two chairs pushed underneath a long wooden table. It was probably made for studying, and it was next to window. They were on the third floor, he believed, and they could see a good distance away from here. Unfortunately, the view from St. Peter's School for Troubled Boys wasn't anything to marvel at. Just the school's crummy parking lot and a couple of trees in the distance. Nice. Nothing like his home back in England. Braylon even found himself missing the rain, when back in England all he waited for were the nice sunny days so he could go out with his friends. Now he was in America, with no friends, and no hope for escape. He didn't even have a car, and he definitely didn't know how to try here should he get his hands on one. He shook his head and put a few of his things into the closet, and then shoved his luggage and backpack into the bottom of the closet. Then he straightened back up. In his class schedule he noticed that they had group therapy sessions that were apparently (according to the nun up front) sorted into groups whom they believed had similiar problems and similar ages. Braylon was in 'Group D'. He wondered what that meant. Would he be surrounded by a bunch of homosexual boys around his age? That almost didn't sound too bad. "Have you ever been here before?" He cleared his throat and turned back to Alex. "Because I haven't, and I don't know where anything is."
[thats alright! That bit with the kid kicking his teacher and throwing a hamster made me crack up. Sorry it took me a bit to reply as well, I've had a crappy time the past few days. :/ also I hope that nothing I mentioned/will mention will be a problem. There might be a few TW as it is a school for unstable boys. So if something I mention bothers you, just let me know. x ]
[/fancypost][/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=transparent; border: none;font-family: arial;text-align: center;color: white;width: 390px; text-transform: uppercase;margin-top: -4px; font-size:8px; line-height: 11px;]lightsy loves you[/fancypost]