Post by Whites!!! on Dec 2, 2010 22:36:56 GMT -5
Footsteps sounded down the dark hallway leading to the Prefect's bath. They were hesitant, as if what they were doing wasn't quite what they were supposed to be doing, or at least something they weren't used to. A hidden cricket chirped, invisible in the blue-shadowed hallway, and the footsteps paused for a moment. One, two, three, they seemed to count, before finally moving again. "Scepter," a boy's voiced breathed, and the entrance to the bath opened.
Enter Eric's Boots and Shoes Whites, new Gryffindor prefect.
Green eyes slid left to right, checking the coast was claer before he walked in, door sliding shut and locking once more behind him. He breathed a sigh of relief, finally at ease after his long, rather stressful trip. Whites dropped his gym bag on the ground next to the massive pool-of-a-tub. It seemed like a waste for all this space to be filled with only one person. His family, when he had been growing up, rarely used a tub. Most of his childhood, in fact, he hadn't had a tub. Just a shower, which was fine by him and fine by his mother. The only time they'd ever had something more than a shower was when his mom had splurged, buying a rather large inflatable pool. It was, as boys were often heard saying, awesome. Whites remembered fondly of the times he had just hung out in the pool with his mom. He'd always loved the water. Sure, he'd never been a bath person, but bath/shower times were more for hygeine than enjoying yourself. No, he often went to the public pool all through his childhood. He loved the pool, and he loved the beach. The beach was an even rarer treat than a pool, of course.
He'd only ever been to a real beach twice in his life. The first time, he'd been too young to really enjoy it, gotten burnt, and spent most of the time sitting in the shade next to his mother as she read her romance novels. The second time, however, had been a different story altogether.
He'd been thirteen. His mother had given him a ride to the rather far bus-station, and then given him enough money for a ride there and back, along with enough money for lunch and snacks and stuff. He'd been... less than excited, really. He was supposed to go to an amusement park with his mom, their annual 'let's do something fun' date. Instead, something had come up, as had been happening more and more often lately, and he'd gotten, in his eyes, screwed over.
"Now, you be safe. You better be on that nine o'clock bus home, okay, Boots?"
"Yes, mom."
He must have betrayed his disappointment in his voice somehow, because his mother had chosen that moment to hug him.
"I'm sorry we couldn't go, hun. We'll go for sure, next year, okay? I know you'll have fun today."
"Okay, mom."
It wasn't okay, really. He'd been looking forward to that trip since last year, when something had also come up. Last year, they were supposed to go camping.
So, disappointed as he was, he still smiled and waved at her as the bus pulled away, laughed at her silly, joking half-run after the bus. He stared out of his window for a long time, at least thirty minutes, looking back at what he was leaving. It wasn't permanent, of course. It wasn't even a big deal. He'd be gone for half a day, if that. He kept his smile on, just in case. He knew his mom couldn't see him, but he'd always been the happy one for them. He'd smiled, the year before when she'd promised that next year they'd go to an amusement park, one even better than camping. He'd still smiled when they had to move away, to somewhere with cheaper housing and cheaper schools and less friends. He'd smiled when dad had left and she'd filled her days with sleep and her nights with work.
But now, here, for the first time in a while, his mother... no, his life, was nowhere near him to catch him off guard.
He turned away from the glass, looking forward at the cheap vinyl backing of the seat in front of him. The vacant seat in front of him. No one went to the beach in late august except for surfers, and this wasn't going to be a 'sweet spot for dude awesome waves', as they liked to say.
He looked to his left, empty seats. He looked forward, empty seats. He was alone with the bus driver. He'd be sitting through the stops upcoming, of course, and people would get on, but for now, Whites was the first and only customer of the day.
He felt his smile finally leave his face.
-
It was a long trip, that bus ride, but he was finally there. The beach.
He looked over the sand, where it met the water. There were a couple empty beer bottles laying here and there, and more cigarette butts than he could count, but it was still one of the cleaner beaches of the area. He set his bag down on the sand, chucked his shirt on it. He wasn't fit, wasn't fat. Largely unremarkable. His swimming suit flapped in the wind, oversized and underpriced as he made his way to the water. It was cold, of course, but not as cold as it would be in the next few weeks. For that, he was grateful. After all, he had come all this way. He might as well swim.
Slowly, letting his body adjust, Whites trudged further and further into the water, until he was chin deep. If he bent his knees, he was floating. That was probably his favorite part of swimming: you weren't holding yourself up anymore. You didn't have to. You could just float, as much as you wanted, until your skin turned prune-like and your hair was bleached from the chlorine, and the fat gym teacher was yelling at you to stop floating, get back to laps, and
He sighed, head bobbing in the water. He felt a stinging, almost electrical feeling wrap around his ankle.
Jellyfish.
-
It was late afternoon, at this point, and Whites was just sitting on the beach, watching the sun sink lower and lower. He needed to be getting home soon... so he did. Nothing dramatic, nothing out of the ordinary. He rode the bus home, smiling as he got off, ensuring his mom that yes, he had had a great time at the beach, he had bought a totally rad sandwich and hadn't saved the money for later, a time when they really needed it, and oh man the sunset sure was pretty on the water.
What did all that have to do with taking a bath? Well, nothing, really. He sighed, and just like that time years ago, he chucked his shirt off and onto his bag, his over-sized, under-priced swimming suit cinched around his waist, and stepped into the pool. It wasn't a biting cold, or anything; in fact, it lived up to its name by being refreshingly warm.
He stepped forward, sinking deeper and deeper, until he was chest deep in water, and found a bench built into the side of the pool underwater to rest on.
Prefect.
Of all people, Eric's Boots and Shoes Whites was made prefect. Not totally awesome Gryffindor hot shot Leon Foster. Not even cool, calm, collected, cunning Micha Volkov, though that was probably because Slytherin already had a prefect.
Why?
Why was he made prefect?
He wasn't sure. He felt the responsibility, a tangible weight on his shoulders doubting him already. Could he handle something like that? Whatever it was, he hadn't been given much choice.
He'd have to.
He smiled at nothing in particular, as if in defiance.
Enter Eric's Boots and Shoes Whites, new Gryffindor prefect.
Green eyes slid left to right, checking the coast was claer before he walked in, door sliding shut and locking once more behind him. He breathed a sigh of relief, finally at ease after his long, rather stressful trip. Whites dropped his gym bag on the ground next to the massive pool-of-a-tub. It seemed like a waste for all this space to be filled with only one person. His family, when he had been growing up, rarely used a tub. Most of his childhood, in fact, he hadn't had a tub. Just a shower, which was fine by him and fine by his mother. The only time they'd ever had something more than a shower was when his mom had splurged, buying a rather large inflatable pool. It was, as boys were often heard saying, awesome. Whites remembered fondly of the times he had just hung out in the pool with his mom. He'd always loved the water. Sure, he'd never been a bath person, but bath/shower times were more for hygeine than enjoying yourself. No, he often went to the public pool all through his childhood. He loved the pool, and he loved the beach. The beach was an even rarer treat than a pool, of course.
He'd only ever been to a real beach twice in his life. The first time, he'd been too young to really enjoy it, gotten burnt, and spent most of the time sitting in the shade next to his mother as she read her romance novels. The second time, however, had been a different story altogether.
He'd been thirteen. His mother had given him a ride to the rather far bus-station, and then given him enough money for a ride there and back, along with enough money for lunch and snacks and stuff. He'd been... less than excited, really. He was supposed to go to an amusement park with his mom, their annual 'let's do something fun' date. Instead, something had come up, as had been happening more and more often lately, and he'd gotten, in his eyes, screwed over.
"Now, you be safe. You better be on that nine o'clock bus home, okay, Boots?"
"Yes, mom."
He must have betrayed his disappointment in his voice somehow, because his mother had chosen that moment to hug him.
"I'm sorry we couldn't go, hun. We'll go for sure, next year, okay? I know you'll have fun today."
"Okay, mom."
It wasn't okay, really. He'd been looking forward to that trip since last year, when something had also come up. Last year, they were supposed to go camping.
So, disappointed as he was, he still smiled and waved at her as the bus pulled away, laughed at her silly, joking half-run after the bus. He stared out of his window for a long time, at least thirty minutes, looking back at what he was leaving. It wasn't permanent, of course. It wasn't even a big deal. He'd be gone for half a day, if that. He kept his smile on, just in case. He knew his mom couldn't see him, but he'd always been the happy one for them. He'd smiled, the year before when she'd promised that next year they'd go to an amusement park, one even better than camping. He'd still smiled when they had to move away, to somewhere with cheaper housing and cheaper schools and less friends. He'd smiled when dad had left and she'd filled her days with sleep and her nights with work.
But now, here, for the first time in a while, his mother... no, his life, was nowhere near him to catch him off guard.
He turned away from the glass, looking forward at the cheap vinyl backing of the seat in front of him. The vacant seat in front of him. No one went to the beach in late august except for surfers, and this wasn't going to be a 'sweet spot for dude awesome waves', as they liked to say.
He looked to his left, empty seats. He looked forward, empty seats. He was alone with the bus driver. He'd be sitting through the stops upcoming, of course, and people would get on, but for now, Whites was the first and only customer of the day.
He felt his smile finally leave his face.
-
It was a long trip, that bus ride, but he was finally there. The beach.
He looked over the sand, where it met the water. There were a couple empty beer bottles laying here and there, and more cigarette butts than he could count, but it was still one of the cleaner beaches of the area. He set his bag down on the sand, chucked his shirt on it. He wasn't fit, wasn't fat. Largely unremarkable. His swimming suit flapped in the wind, oversized and underpriced as he made his way to the water. It was cold, of course, but not as cold as it would be in the next few weeks. For that, he was grateful. After all, he had come all this way. He might as well swim.
Slowly, letting his body adjust, Whites trudged further and further into the water, until he was chin deep. If he bent his knees, he was floating. That was probably his favorite part of swimming: you weren't holding yourself up anymore. You didn't have to. You could just float, as much as you wanted, until your skin turned prune-like and your hair was bleached from the chlorine, and the fat gym teacher was yelling at you to stop floating, get back to laps, and
He sighed, head bobbing in the water. He felt a stinging, almost electrical feeling wrap around his ankle.
Jellyfish.
-
It was late afternoon, at this point, and Whites was just sitting on the beach, watching the sun sink lower and lower. He needed to be getting home soon... so he did. Nothing dramatic, nothing out of the ordinary. He rode the bus home, smiling as he got off, ensuring his mom that yes, he had had a great time at the beach, he had bought a totally rad sandwich and hadn't saved the money for later, a time when they really needed it, and oh man the sunset sure was pretty on the water.
What did all that have to do with taking a bath? Well, nothing, really. He sighed, and just like that time years ago, he chucked his shirt off and onto his bag, his over-sized, under-priced swimming suit cinched around his waist, and stepped into the pool. It wasn't a biting cold, or anything; in fact, it lived up to its name by being refreshingly warm.
He stepped forward, sinking deeper and deeper, until he was chest deep in water, and found a bench built into the side of the pool underwater to rest on.
Prefect.
Of all people, Eric's Boots and Shoes Whites was made prefect. Not totally awesome Gryffindor hot shot Leon Foster. Not even cool, calm, collected, cunning Micha Volkov, though that was probably because Slytherin already had a prefect.
Why?
Why was he made prefect?
He wasn't sure. He felt the responsibility, a tangible weight on his shoulders doubting him already. Could he handle something like that? Whatever it was, he hadn't been given much choice.
He'd have to.
He smiled at nothing in particular, as if in defiance.