This post has the following content warnings:
As they have been every year, the rising juniors of Cavelier Highschool are being provided a new printing of the student handbook, accounting for changing staff and new district bylaws and some new very pointed rules about exactly who is permitted in which bathrooms.
This particular book's cover appears to be a misprint, CMYK all disjoint, but apart from the slightly dizzying misalignment it appears entirely ordinary.
It lands on its appointed desk, and the student passing out books moves on.
Because Camillo is bored, and also a compulsive rule-follower, he flips through the booklet.
Because he's bored, and also seventeen, he draws dicks in the margins, and underlines disseminate and assessment and meningococcal, and edits a particular section heading:
Use by of Students During and After School
As the book falls shut, the full weight of early-morning torpor descends on Camillo. The room is warm and quiet, whispered side chatter overlaid with the drone of the homeroom teacher.
A grin, and a thumbs-up.
(There’s a red plastic band on his wrist today, the kind they use at water parks and hospitals.)
He seems confused, and tilts his head, before the teacher passes between them.
The rest of the class period is, tragically, orientation, but Z hangs back by the door at the end as usual.
“…sure, but not, like, extra.”
They’re walking in the same direction for a little while, thankfully.
“But then they’d take me out of the PSP.”
He wiggles the wrist with the red band demonstratively.
He looks unsure how to proceed, for a moment, half-smiling uncertainly like he’s trying to figure out the joke, before something else gets his attention.
“Of course you read the fucking handbook.”
Camillo takes advantage of the crowded hallway to walk close enough to bump shoulders with him.
"Speaking of homework. Did you actually bring yours, today?"
View Flat HTML
View Metadata
Search Post
