And just as she'd requested, the taser immediately went away, disappearing from his outstretched paw. A small, silent sigh of relief escaped her lips at this, but her immediate relief was then reduced by what she saw in Gauge.
She could remember, when she was younger, having once owned a little inflatable puppet theater. You blew air into it, and a half hour of breathing in and out and one case of lightheadedness later, the whole thing expanded to be a trio of walls with a hole cut out for the puppets and various printed decorations on the sides. She actually wondered if her parents had kept it?
She could also remember when you'd deflated the thing, it would let air out slowly (or a bit more swiftly if you jumped on it), whistling, slowly reducing itself in size until it was little more than a pile of plastic that you rolled into a bag. And this analogy, she realized, wasn't actually the best for Gauge. She'd thought it was at first. But not entirely.
He did deflate, for the record. Immediately his face fell, eyes looking off through the walls at some thing that existed kilometers away. Voice incredibly quiet - and gentle, Good God, it was gentler than she'd ever heard it - he stammered out "I-I didnt know if he was gonna get back up..m-my bad..". He looked like he could barely stand. She'd never seen him like this.
Instantly, she began searching. She wanted to see as much of him like this as possible. She looked into his eyes and mined them for information. What his eyes looked at in the distance, it was a flower, and the petals spread around a singular consciousness that the universe could not otherwise replicate. The petals spread around Gauge.
She saw pain, she saw loss, she saw regret. Somewhat surprisingly, she saw very little fear. She saw hatred, but for what, she did not know. She suspected, however, that it was reserved in large part for himself. She saw all of these things, and she knew what they were because they had existed in herself only years prior. Because they still lurked, down in the deep dark of her soul, reminding her that the past existed and there was absolutely nothing that would ever change that. Ever.
Then, a new look. Recognition. This one spread across his entire face, replacing the previous face - one of weak exhaustion. And just like that, his entire face then changed to the old Gauge. The one she knew from class. The one that picked on others to show he could pick on others and wasn't weak. The one that had something to prove and a lot to loose. Yeah, that one.
His eyes frosted over with an icy indignation, his face contorted back into a grimace. He was back. "Not that the weird freak didnt deserve it," he said, huffing out as he did. He looked at her darkly. "Pulling a knife on someone means like expulsion or something right? He gives me the f@$king creeps." She didn't even bother correcting him for language or responding. What was the point when he'd already shut her out?
Yet he hadn't entirely, couldn't entirely, and she noticed this after a moment. Although Gauge wanted everything about him to speak to the same old bullying bigot he always was - and his face, eyes, and voice surely agreed - his body was not entirely on board. As he spoke, he still looked weak, shoulders slumped, head down, arms at his sides - and after a moment, he even stumbled backwards before hitting the lockers behind him and sliding to the floor. She watched him, face sad, seeing that his day, a day of bullying that would have been a triumph for many other canines in this school, was not nearly so for the wolf before her. This shit had taken a lot out of him.
Noticing her looking at him, his eyes narrowed, exasperated. "What?" he asked tiredly. He stared at her, and even though he was trying to hide himself, that stare was more telling than anything else he'd done already. It was a stare that said he knew this, he experienced this every day, he was used to it. It was a crock of shit, but he was used to it, and used to dealing with it.
He started to get up, but just . . . couldn't. Then, embarrassed, without meeting her eyes or even looking up, "W..would you help me up. My knees gave out."
She looked over at the kid he'd attacked. He was still out, or at least, he appeared to be. How in the hell was she gonna deal with this? The truth would get them both expelled, no problem. Of this she had no doubt. And as much sympathy as she had for Gauge, she was very willing to bet this kid had a decent reason for becoming angry like he had. Gauge had a tendency to create such emotions in others. 'Course, she was willing to bet that whatever it was that had inspired him to violence wasn't a decent reason for pulling a knife and seriously threatening another. Very few things would ever be, in her book. But either way, the truth being told was off the table, for both their sakes.
Then lie. But how? Send Gauge back to class, say that this student had collapsed . . . yes, maybe that could work, but she needed a way to keep him quiet when he woke up, or else he'd destroy the whole thing.
And what the hell was she doing? She was getting in deep, so deep. She didn't want this. She didn't want to have to deal with any of this. Yet it appeared it was going to be her problem no matter what, unless she just walked away. It was an option she could take, she knew. And it tempted her, calling . . .
Feeling weak herself, she did not help Gauge up. Instead, she crossed over to his left, not making eye contact with him, as she sat down next to him on the tile floor. She sighed out as she did so, knees in front of her chest, resting her hands on them. "Never thought you'd be asking for my help," she said with a small chuckle. Then her face turned serious again as she sighed out again and pulled herself back into the present. "Dammit, Gauge" was all else she had to say in a quiet tone. It was no small miracle in of itself that no other students had come into the hallway yet. She knew that should only have spurred her more eagerly into action, into dealing with this before it could get out of hand, but for right now, she wanted a moment to rest. To rest, and to think.
Topic: Pellicius High School, 4200 Hanso Lane (Read 14691 times)