Post by Jack Trove on Sept 17, 2008 20:53:29 GMT
“When’s practice starting up again?”
Jack frowned. “Mm. Dunno. Probably after the Welcoming Ball… well, if the weather lets us.”
“It’s playing against us, huh?”
“Aye, those pitches are in no condition to play on. I mean, the idea of playing, rain or shine is just great and all that, but feck, when horse-sized hailstones are falling from the heavens…”
Gary laughed. “Craig’s still up for it.”
“Aye- but that kid’s nuts.”
“Aye?” Gary’s friendly smile sagged into a sneer. “Hell of an accent there, Jack.”
Jack rolled his eyes. “Sod off, Gary.”
“Sodding ‘eck, ay?” Gary’s eyes sparkled with a sudden malice.
Jack’s shoulders tensed. “Try-outs are one hell of an excuse to get rid of unwanted members. Show some respect, or you might just get the boot.”
“Oho, Mr High and Mighty!” Gary carelessly saluted his captain. “You could give that Kira a run for her money.”
Jack pressed his lips together, but kept silent as Gary sauntered off, a smug little smirk stuck to his fat little lips.
Not worth it.
The summer had robbed Jack of many things, but the one thing he really hadn’t been expecting to lose was his respect as captain of the rugby team. Nor indeed had he expected anyone to have lost their respect- as so many, sadly, had- for their Heads. Over the past week, he’d heard all four Heads’ names tossed around carelessly, callously- at one point, contemptuously. And it pissed him off that the summer could do that. All those weeks of not getting your balls bashed in by your Head… well, clearly, when balls spent weeks in tact, heads were allowed to inflate.
Well, Jack thought grimly, Gary and others of his breed would get their comeuppance soon enough.
Jack’s loss of respect, however, wasn’t just down to a newly pumped pair.
Ever since Jack and Olivia had become the much-talked-of ‘Jolivia’ last year, guys had gone from respecting Jack, to worshipping Jack. No, it was more than that- better than that- guys had wanted to be Jack.
She was Olivia Skye, after all.
She was one of the Orchid IT girls.
Olivia, Sophie, Lydia, Adelaide Grey, Vanessa Chambers (an ex, he was proud to note), Aimee Brooke and (as suddenly ruled by virtually every guy in Years 8 - 12) Tameron Dorrian were amongst the top 20 best-looking girls at Orchid Hill.
Tameron was the latest addition to this elite set of girls. It was the summer that’d done it. All the younger guys had left a little girl at Orchid… and come back to find a little woman.
I.e. she’d grown breasts.
Not to mention the fact that the potentially off-putting accent (girls may dig a Texan accent in a guy, but the same couldn’t always be said the other way round) barely registered when she spoke. Fortunately for Tameron, she did not cling quite so fiercely to her Southern roots as her brother. Although the general slang remained, and a tell-tale twang elongated several of her syllables, so many years at Orchid had eased her accent into a much gentler, rounder tone. Everyone seemed to be in agreement that this presumably gradual change (which they’d all only just noticed) was a massive improvement. Tameron herself was blissfully unaware of the commotion her growth spurt had caused, but her elder brother was not quite so lucky. When Jack had jokingly mentioned the situation to him, Jude had promptly buried his head in his hands and bemoaned his enhanced senses:
“Y’all don’t wanna know what I’ve heard, Jack; y’all just don’t wanna know!”
But Tameron Dorrian’s status as the new Year 11 pin-up aside… well, it was no secret that for the longest time, the local IT couple had been teetering on rocks…
So far, six people had had the nerve to say to his face that Olivia was due to dump him any day now, and a seventh had actually had the nerve to suggest that Olivia was seeing someone else.
The responding punch had earned Jack his first detention of the year, and such a bollocking from old Thandie it was pointless to even consider the possibility of ever fathering a family.
His violent reaction seemed- upon reflection- d@mn right hypocritical of him. His summer had been by no means... innocent. After… Miranda… Jack had skipped town and headed up to Manchester to spend the remainder of his holidays with his old rugby captain, Lewis. In Manchester, things were easy, because no-one knew him, and he knew no-one- at least, at first.
But by the end of one short month there, Jack had gained so many acquaintances and so many phone numbers, he was certain he was acquainted with a good half of the population.
He’d forgotten how easy it was; how naturally it came to him. It was instinct once he got started- like breathing. He wasn’t like Mal would be. He was never crude, just a tad cheeky. He never boasted about the size of his bank account, though buying a couple of rounds of drinks certainly never hurt. He’d never shoved himself into the limelight- just… made himself available.
After all, he was Jack Trove- he’d been born for this.
And they came. Hordes of ‘em. Some couldn’t have been more than 14- others were at least 25. Some were using him like he was using them, so there was no pretence, thank God. It was simpler that way- neither put any pressure on the other- it was more fun. And those sentimental enough to think it actually meant something were the providers of the many phone numbers now in his address book.
It never went very far- God knows, even Jack Trove has his limits. Even Jack Trove has his guilt. His only real excuse when he thought of Olivia- and of Sophie, though technically, he wasn’t cheating on her- was that really, truly… it meant… nothing.
Nothing.
It just helped him forget... for a while.
Nothing.
No girl could compare to his girls.
No girl’s hair was as soft as Olivia’s. No girl’s neck smelt as good as Sophie’s. No girl’s eyes were as bright as Olivia’s. No girl’s voice gave him goosebumps like Sophie’s French purr. No girl was so elegant- so confident- so effortlessly… well… beautiful!
Yet somehow he’d been back a week and still hadn’t managed to meet with either. Well. That was half true. He’d spoken to Olivia, however briefly, and exchanged a quick kiss, but she’d soon been called away by Madeleine, so Jack didn’t really count that for anything.
Sophie had remained entirely aloof. For a few sick days, Jack had searched the school in vain, struck dumb by the fear that perhaps… just perhaps… she’d left him altogether, and returned to some distant French palace. However, his fears had proved unfounded when an angry Kira- fresh from Ireland with a thickened accent and a stronger tendency than usual to swear- had exploded into the Common room giving off about how all the male Spies had been “making eyes” at “that French tart” and “not doing their goddam duty”.
Spy Training. Of course. It was so aggravatingly obvious! Jack was ashamed not to have thought of it himself. Watching now the many Spies filing past him and out of the Assembly Hall, he spotted several more sneering rugby hopefuls.
Fat chance, kids.
Mentally, Jack began to label the many Spies (Christ, no wonder Kira complained- actually, she was entitled to complain a heck of a lot more than she did, looking at this lot) as they passed…
Prick.
Prick.
Slag.
Prick.
Hot girl.
Slacker.
Gossip.
“Ellie! Brian! Hey!”
Arrogant so-and-so.
Mega hot girl.
Prick.
Cowboy- oh-
“Hey, Jude!”
His friend jumped out of the crowd lightly, followed by Tameron (where the hell had she come from?), who in turn was followed by quite a few roving eyes.
“Howdy, Jack. What’re y’all doing out here?”
“Waiting.”
“Hmm, gee, Jude, reckon we worked that one out all on our own, didn’t we?”
Jude- after years of practice- easily ignored her. “Ellie and Brian an' all are ahead of us.”
“No. Not them.”
“Kira?”
“No… Where’s Ailith?”
Jude glanced at Tameron in surprise. Apparently, he wasn’t aware he was missing a girlfriend. “Um. Must’ve lost her.”
“Well,” Jack grinned, “she is pretty short. It’d be hard to see her in a crowd-”
“I suppose he thinks he’s funny,” Tameron cut in sarcastically.
If she was really all that fit, Jack couldn‘t see it. “Bugger off, Tameron.”
“Jude!” her eyes snapped to her brother. “Y’all gonna let him speak to me like that?”
Jude sighed, looking meaningfully at Jack. “Yeah; reckon I am. C’mon, Tameron, we’ve gotta go find Ailith.”
“Oh, for Chrissake, what kind of a brother are y’all supposed to be- ?!”
“See y’all later, Jack!” Jude called cheerfully over his shoulder as he followed a sulky Tameron back into the thinning crowds.
And not a moment too soon.
The last few stragglers were leaving and Jack could now hear Kira’s voice (much sharper than usual) calling from within the hall-
“No Training next Wednesday, guys, the choir’s kicked us out! Don’t forget-”
Prick.
What’s-his-face.
Possible lesbian.
Fat.
Prick.
Prick-
Sophie.
And Jack- as all great mean do when faced with great beauty- blushed betroot red, and forgot what he was about to say.
Jesus, Jack Trove was blushing.
Only the best of the best could make Jack Trove blush.
Jack frowned. “Mm. Dunno. Probably after the Welcoming Ball… well, if the weather lets us.”
“It’s playing against us, huh?”
“Aye, those pitches are in no condition to play on. I mean, the idea of playing, rain or shine is just great and all that, but feck, when horse-sized hailstones are falling from the heavens…”
Gary laughed. “Craig’s still up for it.”
“Aye- but that kid’s nuts.”
“Aye?” Gary’s friendly smile sagged into a sneer. “Hell of an accent there, Jack.”
Jack rolled his eyes. “Sod off, Gary.”
“Sodding ‘eck, ay?” Gary’s eyes sparkled with a sudden malice.
Jack’s shoulders tensed. “Try-outs are one hell of an excuse to get rid of unwanted members. Show some respect, or you might just get the boot.”
“Oho, Mr High and Mighty!” Gary carelessly saluted his captain. “You could give that Kira a run for her money.”
Jack pressed his lips together, but kept silent as Gary sauntered off, a smug little smirk stuck to his fat little lips.
Not worth it.
The summer had robbed Jack of many things, but the one thing he really hadn’t been expecting to lose was his respect as captain of the rugby team. Nor indeed had he expected anyone to have lost their respect- as so many, sadly, had- for their Heads. Over the past week, he’d heard all four Heads’ names tossed around carelessly, callously- at one point, contemptuously. And it pissed him off that the summer could do that. All those weeks of not getting your balls bashed in by your Head… well, clearly, when balls spent weeks in tact, heads were allowed to inflate.
Well, Jack thought grimly, Gary and others of his breed would get their comeuppance soon enough.
Jack’s loss of respect, however, wasn’t just down to a newly pumped pair.
Ever since Jack and Olivia had become the much-talked-of ‘Jolivia’ last year, guys had gone from respecting Jack, to worshipping Jack. No, it was more than that- better than that- guys had wanted to be Jack.
She was Olivia Skye, after all.
She was one of the Orchid IT girls.
Olivia, Sophie, Lydia, Adelaide Grey, Vanessa Chambers (an ex, he was proud to note), Aimee Brooke and (as suddenly ruled by virtually every guy in Years 8 - 12) Tameron Dorrian were amongst the top 20 best-looking girls at Orchid Hill.
Tameron was the latest addition to this elite set of girls. It was the summer that’d done it. All the younger guys had left a little girl at Orchid… and come back to find a little woman.
I.e. she’d grown breasts.
Not to mention the fact that the potentially off-putting accent (girls may dig a Texan accent in a guy, but the same couldn’t always be said the other way round) barely registered when she spoke. Fortunately for Tameron, she did not cling quite so fiercely to her Southern roots as her brother. Although the general slang remained, and a tell-tale twang elongated several of her syllables, so many years at Orchid had eased her accent into a much gentler, rounder tone. Everyone seemed to be in agreement that this presumably gradual change (which they’d all only just noticed) was a massive improvement. Tameron herself was blissfully unaware of the commotion her growth spurt had caused, but her elder brother was not quite so lucky. When Jack had jokingly mentioned the situation to him, Jude had promptly buried his head in his hands and bemoaned his enhanced senses:
“Y’all don’t wanna know what I’ve heard, Jack; y’all just don’t wanna know!”
But Tameron Dorrian’s status as the new Year 11 pin-up aside… well, it was no secret that for the longest time, the local IT couple had been teetering on rocks…
So far, six people had had the nerve to say to his face that Olivia was due to dump him any day now, and a seventh had actually had the nerve to suggest that Olivia was seeing someone else.
The responding punch had earned Jack his first detention of the year, and such a bollocking from old Thandie it was pointless to even consider the possibility of ever fathering a family.
His violent reaction seemed- upon reflection- d@mn right hypocritical of him. His summer had been by no means... innocent. After… Miranda… Jack had skipped town and headed up to Manchester to spend the remainder of his holidays with his old rugby captain, Lewis. In Manchester, things were easy, because no-one knew him, and he knew no-one- at least, at first.
But by the end of one short month there, Jack had gained so many acquaintances and so many phone numbers, he was certain he was acquainted with a good half of the population.
He’d forgotten how easy it was; how naturally it came to him. It was instinct once he got started- like breathing. He wasn’t like Mal would be. He was never crude, just a tad cheeky. He never boasted about the size of his bank account, though buying a couple of rounds of drinks certainly never hurt. He’d never shoved himself into the limelight- just… made himself available.
After all, he was Jack Trove- he’d been born for this.
And they came. Hordes of ‘em. Some couldn’t have been more than 14- others were at least 25. Some were using him like he was using them, so there was no pretence, thank God. It was simpler that way- neither put any pressure on the other- it was more fun. And those sentimental enough to think it actually meant something were the providers of the many phone numbers now in his address book.
It never went very far- God knows, even Jack Trove has his limits. Even Jack Trove has his guilt. His only real excuse when he thought of Olivia- and of Sophie, though technically, he wasn’t cheating on her- was that really, truly… it meant… nothing.
Nothing.
It just helped him forget... for a while.
Nothing.
No girl could compare to his girls.
No girl’s hair was as soft as Olivia’s. No girl’s neck smelt as good as Sophie’s. No girl’s eyes were as bright as Olivia’s. No girl’s voice gave him goosebumps like Sophie’s French purr. No girl was so elegant- so confident- so effortlessly… well… beautiful!
Yet somehow he’d been back a week and still hadn’t managed to meet with either. Well. That was half true. He’d spoken to Olivia, however briefly, and exchanged a quick kiss, but she’d soon been called away by Madeleine, so Jack didn’t really count that for anything.
Sophie had remained entirely aloof. For a few sick days, Jack had searched the school in vain, struck dumb by the fear that perhaps… just perhaps… she’d left him altogether, and returned to some distant French palace. However, his fears had proved unfounded when an angry Kira- fresh from Ireland with a thickened accent and a stronger tendency than usual to swear- had exploded into the Common room giving off about how all the male Spies had been “making eyes” at “that French tart” and “not doing their goddam duty”.
Spy Training. Of course. It was so aggravatingly obvious! Jack was ashamed not to have thought of it himself. Watching now the many Spies filing past him and out of the Assembly Hall, he spotted several more sneering rugby hopefuls.
Fat chance, kids.
Mentally, Jack began to label the many Spies (Christ, no wonder Kira complained- actually, she was entitled to complain a heck of a lot more than she did, looking at this lot) as they passed…
Prick.
Prick.
Slag.
Prick.
Hot girl.
Slacker.
Gossip.
“Ellie! Brian! Hey!”
Arrogant so-and-so.
Mega hot girl.
Prick.
Cowboy- oh-
“Hey, Jude!”
His friend jumped out of the crowd lightly, followed by Tameron (where the hell had she come from?), who in turn was followed by quite a few roving eyes.
“Howdy, Jack. What’re y’all doing out here?”
“Waiting.”
“Hmm, gee, Jude, reckon we worked that one out all on our own, didn’t we?”
Jude- after years of practice- easily ignored her. “Ellie and Brian an' all are ahead of us.”
“No. Not them.”
“Kira?”
“No… Where’s Ailith?”
Jude glanced at Tameron in surprise. Apparently, he wasn’t aware he was missing a girlfriend. “Um. Must’ve lost her.”
“Well,” Jack grinned, “she is pretty short. It’d be hard to see her in a crowd-”
“I suppose he thinks he’s funny,” Tameron cut in sarcastically.
If she was really all that fit, Jack couldn‘t see it. “Bugger off, Tameron.”
“Jude!” her eyes snapped to her brother. “Y’all gonna let him speak to me like that?”
Jude sighed, looking meaningfully at Jack. “Yeah; reckon I am. C’mon, Tameron, we’ve gotta go find Ailith.”
“Oh, for Chrissake, what kind of a brother are y’all supposed to be- ?!”
“See y’all later, Jack!” Jude called cheerfully over his shoulder as he followed a sulky Tameron back into the thinning crowds.
And not a moment too soon.
The last few stragglers were leaving and Jack could now hear Kira’s voice (much sharper than usual) calling from within the hall-
“No Training next Wednesday, guys, the choir’s kicked us out! Don’t forget-”
Prick.
What’s-his-face.
Possible lesbian.
Fat.
Prick.
Prick-
Sophie.
And Jack- as all great mean do when faced with great beauty- blushed betroot red, and forgot what he was about to say.
Jesus, Jack Trove was blushing.
Only the best of the best could make Jack Trove blush.
