the art of being troubled || clouis

3 || victory violet

09 APRIL 2003

   Yesterday's events were surely enough to send anyone packing from this wretched boarding school. But as if that wasn't enough, all the little frustrations Clementine came to experience broke her spirit a lot easier than usual. First, it was the squeaky, hard bunk beds. Five minutes into trying to fall asleep and out of sporadic anger, she assaulted her pillow for her life being screwed up. Second, it was the muffled dripping of the taps in the bathroom next door. Did no one know how to close a damn faucet around here? And lastly, the hyperactive dorm mates that decide to stay out until two in the morning with their girlfriends, Violet. Clementine laid wide awake, staring at the bottom of the top bunk and resentfully listening to the sounds of high-pitched giggles and whispering by the door.

   "Wait, just one more," what sounded like Minerva whispered. Violet giggled.

   "You're gonna get in trouble, you saw Ms Caul walking through the halls," she told her.

   "One more won't hurt, will it? Come on," Minerva pleaded, before the inescapable smacks of kissing ensued. Clementine grabbed her pillow and tried to suffocate herself with it – anything to not hear what she was currently hearing. But by no means was it working. It was impossible.

   Now that it was bright and early in the morning, Clementine had to enjoy her only time of peace and quiet getting ready for class. As eight o'clock rolled around and she opened the door to leave, she spotted Marlon standing across the hall with a pile of clothes in his hands.

   "Morning, newbie. You sleep well?" he greeted her.

   "Try not at all."

   "Ah, don't worry," he nodded his head knowingly. "You'll get used to this place in no time. Then, you'll be able sleep through all the fights and riots like a baby."

   Clementine glanced down at the pile in his hands, ignoring his morning pep.

   "That for me?" she asked, observing the red shorts and grey shirt he held with a tilt of her head.

   "Your first class is gym," he handed over the uniform. "I'll take you to the gymnasium and then I've got to head off to my own class. Physics," he then huffed. "Fuckin' hate it."

   Of course, her first class had to be the most gruelling. Why couldn't she have Physics? All she would have to do is just sit there and get used to being around all these odd kids, not have them watch her do jumping jacks and climb some stupid rope that'll probably fall out of the ceiling.

   Once Clementine went back into her dorm and changed, she and Marlon set off to the gymnasium through the waves of students.

   "Now, newbies do have to be a little more careful when it comes to their first gym class. The kids here," he huffed, "they're competitive. They're not exactly gentle when it comes to fresh meat," he informed her, leading her into the courtyard.

    Clementine scoffed.

   "Great. I always wanted to know what it was like to lose my teeth," she quipped.

   "You want my advice?" he shifted his gaze to her.

   "Not necessarily."

   "Don't just stand there like your mom forced you to go to the store with her. Put some muscle into it, show 'em what you've got," he insisted, tightening his fist at her encouragingly. "A lot of these kids are all bark and no bite. But if you back down, they'll assume power over you. And that's when they start to dig in. The more you fight back, the more you'll scare 'em off," he told her. "You play much sport?" he then questioned.