Beating the System
Title: Beating the System
Fandom/Verse: Among the Ashes
Characters/Pairings: Ivy, Izzie, some cameos from Ginny and Ashley
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Mine, all mine.
Note: Basically a set up fic for the next chunk which pushes Izzie into the spotlight which I'm excited about. This follows Reading Between the Lines. And if you need a refresher on the characters can find all their info here
I put off doing that essay for as long as I could. I watched tv, I played around on the internet, I made three very pricey phone calls two Ginny in a forty eight hour period, I was even deciding whether or not I actually was going to bake something (and subsequently burn down our house) before I realized one inevitable thing: none of this would help me get it done any faster.
It did give me a chance to observe Michael inhaling a pint of mint chocolate chip, which, let’s face it, is a sight no one should go through life without seeing. I mean, the things that boy does with a spoon are practically illegal. But yeah, continuing on.
School was surprisingly stress free the next day, despite a bio midterm from Mr. Daniels, who Michael and I liked to call The Troll King, decided to spring on me.
Maybe it was those calls to Ginny. Maybe for once she actually gave me meaningful advice. The truth is I’ve never really listened to her. I know it sounds bad but well, Ginny? Ginny is the type of person who gives you her opinion on everything. Whether it’s a pair of shoes you wanna buy, a haircut you wanna try, or a show you desperately want to start watching. For a person as indecisive as me, it can be refreshing at times for someone to demand that we order Chinese over pizza, or that I ditch green highlights in favor of the much more well tolerated cherry red, but after eleven years of friendship?
It’s safe to say that I’ve come to realize by best friend is bossy and that well, that’s okay. I used to wish I could be a little more like Ginny, at least she’s not afraid to go after what she wants.
When I told her about the report (leaving out any hints that I was even thinking about doing it on Michael, because even though I hadn’t breathed a word of my less than Brady like feelings for him to her in all the years that I’d known her, I knew she suspected something) she snorted and said:
“So, what’s the problem? You just bullshit an essay. How is she gonna know that your hero isn’t Martha Stewart?”
She did have a point. How would Miss Summers know? It would be just like writing fiction, and isn’t that what you were supposed to do? It was creative writing after all, and I was definitely being creative.
I scribbled down sloppy notes onto an organizer all morning. I had never really had a conversation with Michael’s grandma Mary Anne, but Maggie was always going on about how she went around collecting scrap metal and stuff during World War 2 and well, that seemed pretty admirable to me.
But when the bell rang and I started the long trek to fourth period, I started to feel little guilt pangs gnawing at my stomach.
I had a surprisingly pleasant conversation with Ashley. Well, if you count me smiling and nodding enthusiastically as she babbled on excitedly about her new job at Erin’s Daycare, which was only a little ways down the road. I even managed not to break my pencil when she said:
“And it’s practically right across the street from Michael’s after school job! Isn’t that awesome!?”
After assuring her that it was, indeed awesome, I handed Miss Summers my outline.
“Look great, guys,” she said as she skimmed over Ashley’s. “Only….Ash?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m all for standing out from the crowd but uh, can we lay off the hot pink pen next time? I think my retinas just melted.”
She smiled a little and went back to her desk, leaving Ashley pleasantly dumbfounded.
Even though she had assigned us a haiku, I couldn’t help but steal glances as she flipped through everyone’s homework. I got a little carried away, because before I knew it, the bell was ringing again and the only words I had on my paper were “I”, “am” and some sort of unintelligible squiggly line in the margin.
“Alright guys,” Miss Summers yelled over the chairs and book bags that were being dragged across the floor. “Finish up your poems and hand them in tomorrow. I’ll hand your organizers back then too.”
I hoisted my backpack onto my shoulder with a swell of pride. I had beaten the system! Not only had I passed of a steaming pile of bullshit as art, I had just managed to get out of flunking an assignment! The world was my oyster, and as Christina Aguilera as it all sounded, nothing could bring me down today.
I was floating, which was probably a good thing considering the practically ancient layer of dust bunnies coating the floor until Miss Summers looked up and called my name.
“Uh, yes, Miss Summers?” I croaked.
“Can we talk?”
Okay, so maybe something could.
Fandom/Verse: Among the Ashes
Characters/Pairings: Ivy, Izzie, some cameos from Ginny and Ashley
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Mine, all mine.
Note: Basically a set up fic for the next chunk which pushes Izzie into the spotlight which I'm excited about. This follows Reading Between the Lines. And if you need a refresher on the characters can find all their info here
I put off doing that essay for as long as I could. I watched tv, I played around on the internet, I made three very pricey phone calls two Ginny in a forty eight hour period, I was even deciding whether or not I actually was going to bake something (and subsequently burn down our house) before I realized one inevitable thing: none of this would help me get it done any faster.
It did give me a chance to observe Michael inhaling a pint of mint chocolate chip, which, let’s face it, is a sight no one should go through life without seeing. I mean, the things that boy does with a spoon are practically illegal. But yeah, continuing on.
School was surprisingly stress free the next day, despite a bio midterm from Mr. Daniels, who Michael and I liked to call The Troll King, decided to spring on me.
Maybe it was those calls to Ginny. Maybe for once she actually gave me meaningful advice. The truth is I’ve never really listened to her. I know it sounds bad but well, Ginny? Ginny is the type of person who gives you her opinion on everything. Whether it’s a pair of shoes you wanna buy, a haircut you wanna try, or a show you desperately want to start watching. For a person as indecisive as me, it can be refreshing at times for someone to demand that we order Chinese over pizza, or that I ditch green highlights in favor of the much more well tolerated cherry red, but after eleven years of friendship?
It’s safe to say that I’ve come to realize by best friend is bossy and that well, that’s okay. I used to wish I could be a little more like Ginny, at least she’s not afraid to go after what she wants.
When I told her about the report (leaving out any hints that I was even thinking about doing it on Michael, because even though I hadn’t breathed a word of my less than Brady like feelings for him to her in all the years that I’d known her, I knew she suspected something) she snorted and said:
“So, what’s the problem? You just bullshit an essay. How is she gonna know that your hero isn’t Martha Stewart?”
She did have a point. How would Miss Summers know? It would be just like writing fiction, and isn’t that what you were supposed to do? It was creative writing after all, and I was definitely being creative.
I scribbled down sloppy notes onto an organizer all morning. I had never really had a conversation with Michael’s grandma Mary Anne, but Maggie was always going on about how she went around collecting scrap metal and stuff during World War 2 and well, that seemed pretty admirable to me.
But when the bell rang and I started the long trek to fourth period, I started to feel little guilt pangs gnawing at my stomach.
I had a surprisingly pleasant conversation with Ashley. Well, if you count me smiling and nodding enthusiastically as she babbled on excitedly about her new job at Erin’s Daycare, which was only a little ways down the road. I even managed not to break my pencil when she said:
“And it’s practically right across the street from Michael’s after school job! Isn’t that awesome!?”
After assuring her that it was, indeed awesome, I handed Miss Summers my outline.
“Look great, guys,” she said as she skimmed over Ashley’s. “Only….Ash?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m all for standing out from the crowd but uh, can we lay off the hot pink pen next time? I think my retinas just melted.”
She smiled a little and went back to her desk, leaving Ashley pleasantly dumbfounded.
Even though she had assigned us a haiku, I couldn’t help but steal glances as she flipped through everyone’s homework. I got a little carried away, because before I knew it, the bell was ringing again and the only words I had on my paper were “I”, “am” and some sort of unintelligible squiggly line in the margin.
“Alright guys,” Miss Summers yelled over the chairs and book bags that were being dragged across the floor. “Finish up your poems and hand them in tomorrow. I’ll hand your organizers back then too.”
I hoisted my backpack onto my shoulder with a swell of pride. I had beaten the system! Not only had I passed of a steaming pile of bullshit as art, I had just managed to get out of flunking an assignment! The world was my oyster, and as Christina Aguilera as it all sounded, nothing could bring me down today.
I was floating, which was probably a good thing considering the practically ancient layer of dust bunnies coating the floor until Miss Summers looked up and called my name.
“Uh, yes, Miss Summers?” I croaked.
“Can we talk?”
Okay, so maybe something could.