Room 318, Thursday Morning
Peter had not been moping over his birthday the past few days: that would be stupid, and useless to boot. No, he'd written Sunday's essay, gone over it thrice, contacted Val to get her take on it and coach her through the Demosthenes one she was working on... you know, useful stuff.
No, he hadn't been moping over his birthday at all. When he wasn't working, he'd been keeping up with the radio and moping about that.
So he was just in bed because he was still tired, that was all. It had nothing to do with the fact that there were monsters outside. How useless would being eaten by a monster be, anyway? He hadn't built up that much fame yet, hadn't accomplished anything worth noting in the history books.
Besides, who'd believe he got killed by monsters anyway? And if he did, he'd just be a statistic - the best he could hope for would be that Ender would win the war, and then who'd he be? He'd be a single line in a history book: Ender Wiggin had an older brother, Peter, who died tragically at boarding school. This tragedy surely fueled Wiggin's philanthropy in later years... Or maybe not even that much. Ender Wiggin had an older brother, Peter, who died stupidly at boarding school. His other sibling...
He should try to get out of here, but how was he going to get past the monsters? God, he needed more powerful friends - Topher and Kenzi and Emma and Kate sometimes had their uses, but they were worth absolutely squat in the face of a monster attack.
He'd have to make more friends.
If he even lived through this.
He groaned and yanked the pillow over his face. "Who's willing to bet that stupid cow sent me here on purpose just to get killed," he muttered.
...but mom wouldn't do that. Would she? Or was he really awful enough to be worth assassinating? He hadn't physically hurt anyone in years because he realised how much pain it caused. He was trying to save the world, not just power-monger over it. Surely he wasn't that bad?
...yeah, Peter wasn't getting out of bed any time soon today.
[[ the post is open, however, and the door is half-so. ]]
No, he hadn't been moping over his birthday at all. When he wasn't working, he'd been keeping up with the radio and moping about that.
So he was just in bed because he was still tired, that was all. It had nothing to do with the fact that there were monsters outside. How useless would being eaten by a monster be, anyway? He hadn't built up that much fame yet, hadn't accomplished anything worth noting in the history books.
Besides, who'd believe he got killed by monsters anyway? And if he did, he'd just be a statistic - the best he could hope for would be that Ender would win the war, and then who'd he be? He'd be a single line in a history book: Ender Wiggin had an older brother, Peter, who died tragically at boarding school. This tragedy surely fueled Wiggin's philanthropy in later years... Or maybe not even that much. Ender Wiggin had an older brother, Peter, who died stupidly at boarding school. His other sibling...
He should try to get out of here, but how was he going to get past the monsters? God, he needed more powerful friends - Topher and Kenzi and Emma and Kate sometimes had their uses, but they were worth absolutely squat in the face of a monster attack.
He'd have to make more friends.
If he even lived through this.
He groaned and yanked the pillow over his face. "Who's willing to bet that stupid cow sent me here on purpose just to get killed," he muttered.
...but mom wouldn't do that. Would she? Or was he really awful enough to be worth assassinating? He hadn't physically hurt anyone in years because he realised how much pain it caused. He was trying to save the world, not just power-monger over it. Surely he wasn't that bad?
...yeah, Peter wasn't getting out of bed any time soon today.
[[ the post is open, however, and the door is half-so. ]]