Fricken, Fracken -Ann-

This entire school was way to freakin’ big! What, had the builders of this stupid place had cars and maps to get everywhere?! It seemed pretty impossible to get anywhere without those things. Perhaps he should have paid a little more attention when he’d gotten here, but still! This was ridiculous!

Classes were supposed to be going on right now, so when Ronnie entered what looked to be like a small lounge area for the students, no one was there. Which was perfectly alright with him, it just gave him a bit more time to himself, which is something he really needed right now.

Settling down into a couch with his feet up against a table, Ronnie leaned his head back and closed his eyes, letting the realization of this whole trip here finally settle. Which, he realized, was a little too much to take right now. “F*CK!” Ronnie yelled as loud as he possibly could, not really caring if anyone heard him.

Okay, so sure, the school was big. Big freaking deal. Brianna had better things to complain about. If she knew that was really what was bothering Ronnie about this place right now, then he was just another idiot that deserved to be here in this hell hole. However, she didn't even notice Ronnie as she walked briskly into the dorm lounge. She'd been walking pretty fast, wondering if anyone would know that she was actually skipping class. It was silly to worry about it, but Brianna still wanted a perfect record here even if this actually wasn't even a real school. It couldn't be a real school. Maybe it was a school for the kids who rode the short bus or the mentally ill, but it wasn't like she could actually learn anything here unless she taught it to herself. She did study alone. That's what she spent most of her time doing, actually. But what was the point if all a college could see on her transcript was that she'd passed "Power Concentration" class or something like that. Like they'd actually know what that was. Brianna was pretty sure she was getting screwed over.

Now, Bri was only skipping art class, at the moment. It was already a class she'd never liked, and they'd stuck her in it, so why start now? They were doing something riduculous with scissors and construcion paper anyway, and she had no desire to work hard on something in class that she could throw together in five minutes. So here she was, in a small kitchenette in the lounge that looked out over all the couches and chairs and coffee tables. She needed some coffee to calm her nerves, and she hoped the last person to make the coffee knew what they were doing. They didn't. She spit it back into her cup, and looked at it, completely disgusted. Frustratedly, she dumped the entire pot down the sink and restarted the entire process, beginning with heating up a new pot of water. Why couldn't anyone else ever do anything right?! If you want it done right, you really do have to do it yourself, she thought. Tapping her foot and waiting impatiently, she almost jumped when she heard someone yell f*ck really loud behind her. It was actually something she'd thought about doing herself, but she automatically assumed he was angry for an entirely different, and very unimportant reason. "What the hell are you yelling about?!" she asked loudly, concentrating on the pot of coffee with a glare. She didn't even bother to turn around to see if he was okay, and was too wrapped up in the stupid coffee maker. Damnit, this thing was slow.

“Screw you,” Ronnie answered back just as loudly. He, just like Bri, didn’t bother turning around and facing the person who had so rudely interrupted hi train of thought. Seriously, everyone in this god forsaken school clearly had an issue. Was asking for a little me time so impossible? He’d already run into some confused little spastic freak, what was next?!

((Short, sorry >.<))

[ooc: It's fine. xD]

Ugh. Okay, so it wasn't going to boil. The stupid light was on, why wouldn't the damned water boil?! Resisting the urge to chuck it at the nearest, most convenient wall, Brianna fumbled around in an above cabinet for a clean looking coffee mug. "Why don't you say that to my face, bitch?" she answered angrily, though it was weaker this time. Her search for a usable coffee cup wasn't going so well, and it was a little distracting. Bending over, she disappeared behind the counter as she looked under the sink. Nothing. Finally in a nearby bottom drawer, she found some plastic coffee mugs that were undoubtedly beneath her, but it would have to do. Standing up to see that the water was still as cold as it had been when she put it in, she glared at it, recklessly dumping most of the water into her mug. It overflowed, and after sloshing some of it into the sink, she stuck it into a microwave. The cup turned round and round as it heated up, but she didn't move her glare from it. Obviously frustrated, she tapped her foot as she waited impatiently.

Ronnie scoffed, hearing her angry reply. Standing up, he sauntered over to the small kitchen area and leaned against the counter. “I said,” Ronnie clarified, his voice and expression oddly calm, “screw you.” Walking around the counter, he hopped onto it, watching her. “Coffee making doesn’t seem to be your forte,” Ronnie told her, acting as though they hadn’t been yelling at each other just a few seconds ago. “You’d be a crappy home-maker,” he added, shrugging slightly.

"You might not want-" Brianna began suddenly, after he had jumped on the counter. She decided against saying anything because he rudely interrupted her and he didn't deserve the warning. Shrugging it off, she opened the microwave as soon as it beeped. Instead of making coffee, she ended up just grabbing a packet of tea. It'd be better for her anyway. "Because being able to do this is just that important. Are you kidding? I'm hiring someone to do this for me when I'm older," she scoffed, as if she would have to do demeaning jobs for the rest of her life. Yeah, right. Holding the bag she dipped it in by the string, swirling it around watching the water start to change color. She eyed Ronnie carefully, containing her smile even though she really wanted to laugh at what Ronnie didn't see.

“Someone’s a spoiled little kid,” Ronnie commented, banging his feet against the cabinet beneath him. Then again, he was one to talk; his family had people to do all the manual labor around his house. In fact, he couldn’t really remember the last time he’d had to make his bed. The realization that he was going to have to start doing these things like any other middle class kid made him grip the counter angrily, his knuckles turning white.

"If you make enough money, it doesn't matter," she replied. Her tea was much too bitter. After sipping it she made a face and set it on the second counter behind her. "I'd be providing the dimwitted drop outs with jobs cleaning my house." Bri almost seemed to be staring past him now, unable to control the smile pushing it's way out on to her face. "Everybody wins," Brianna almost laughed, but it was stifled.

“What the hell is your issue?” Ronnie asked her, annoyed with her happy attitude that greatly contrasted his own irritated mood. He rolled his eyes. Girls were weird, mood swinging, overbearing people. The only purpose they really served was to cater to their husbands needs, which, clearly, this girl wasn’t going to do. What a waste of a human life, Ronnie thought, shaking his head disapprovingly.

"I'm sorry, it's just-" Bri smiled, chewing on her finger nail. How could she explain this? It sounded crazy, yes, but that's why she was here. Brianna was crazy, or she'd developed some unexplained illness that made her hallucinate. Other people in her family had it too, it was hereditary. Normally it was terribly gruesome or just annoying, but there were occasions like these that made it all worth it. "That's Benny's counter, but she doesn't mind. She thinks you have nice hair," she shrugged, still grinning at what Ronnie couldn't see. "And eyes."

“What the—” Ronnie looked around himself for a second, searching for whoever this girl was talking about. Focusing his gaze back on Bri, he eyed her curiously. He ignored the compliments and tried to understand who she was referring to. “Who’s Benny?” he finally asked her, looking over his shoulder one more time.

"Oh, she killed herself back in '97. Hung herself, actually." Bri grabbed his hand before he could object. Binding it between hers and Benny's, a few seconds later there appeared to be a third figure in the room. Benny, a tiny, 16 year old, blond sat limply on the counter with a loosened noose around her neck. With one hand extended, the pale girl had been occupied playing with Ronnie's hair. Up until a few seconds ago, she was completely unnoticed and couldn't be felt by any normal human head. She gasped, jerking backwards. Completely exposed and feeling very vulnerable, Benny got as far away from Ronnie as she could, although it was fairly difficult to move around with a rope attached to her neck like a leash. Brianna let go quickly; she wasn't really supposed to torment people who had already had to die, and though she'd mostly aimed to freak out Ronnie, it still counted as being mean to the ghosts. "You should ask her out," she laughed.

Ronnie attempted to sort what was going on around him, but came up with nothing that made any real sense. So…this “Benny” girl killed herself a few years back. Which meant she was a ghost, which happened to be something he had never really believed in…up until now, of course. And so, after a few minutes of mulling over the subject, Ronnie had come up with this: The girl was a ghost. The girl was…attracted to him? That other girl with the coffee making issues could see ghosts. OR, the coffe making impaired girl was messing with his mind, creating illusions, or the ghost girl was in on the whole thing. “Ha, funny,” Ronnie said casually, unsure of which idea to stick with, “You know, this is a ‘gifted’ school, not an institute for the mentally ill,” he told her, tapping his temple, “you might want to get this checked out.” He shrugged as though they were talking about the weather, and not about her being crazy.

"I'm not insane," Bri replied flatly. She didn't necessarily believe that herself, but she'd never admit it. Besides being able to see ghosts, she was a completely sane, structured, organized, person. Maybe it wasn't really a gift, but it didn't make her mental or retarded or anything like that. She was smarter than pretty much everyone here, why did she just let him call her mentally ill?! Surprised at herself, in order to recover she questioned Ronnie defensively. "Well, what can you do?"

“Me?” Ronnie asked, gesturing to himself. Frowning, he shrugged and crossed his arms, “I don’t see why I should show you,” he said plainly, looking around in a seemingly bored fashion. “I’m not insane though,” he added, as though it was some important fact that she needed to know. Some people might actually disagree with that fact, but compared to her, he considered himself quite the sane, normal human.