Aftermath...Afterlatin

                Back at the table, Renée and Donald, or as they called each other Soulflight and Riverhaze, had joined David. Les and Dick reclaimed their seats next to them as they were in mid-conversation with David.

                “What did that turkey ever do to the antelope?” Renée inquired of David.

                “What could it do?” David annoyingly responded, “Absolutely nothing. Thus why it-“

                “Flies away before this gets any weirder.” Donald piped in.

                Les waves her hands between her face and the others, “Once again, I don’t want to know what you freaks are talking about.”

                They all continue their lunch. When Dick had finished, he stood up to return his tray. “Hey babes, would you take this up for me? Please?” Les batted her eyelashes as she asked him.

                “Sure,” was all he could say.

                “Thanks Dick!”

                After he had walked far enough away, Les gathered her books and stood up. “Hey,” she said to Renée, “Tell him I went to Latin already.”

                “Why? Is something wrong?”

                “Nothing is wrong. I just have to go before you freaks stuff tofu in my face.” Les stood up, slung her backpack over her shoulder, and left though the doors to head to Latin.

                Dick returned to two empty seats.  Renée chimes in, “Leslie’s headed to Latin.”

                “Why? We still have fifteen minutes left.”

                “She just left, rather suddenly, and a little rudely.”

                Donald adds, “What Soulflight is trying to say is that she seemed to have a lot on her mind.”

                “What could she possibly have on her mind?” Dick inquires.

                “Well, have you ever noticed her taste in partners? You know; their generally not very masculine.”

                “The emo gays you mean?” David interjects.

                Donald, being the lover of mankind that he is, protests, “We shouldn’t call them that. They’re people, just like us. Although, he does have a point, they aren’t exactly perfect for her.”

                “Riverhaze, she probably just wants to be by herself. You know she’s not the most sociable of creatures.”

                “Okay, you guys are talking about her like she’s from another planet. She just went to Latin. Maybe I should join her. You guys just don’t know her at all.”

                “What a bitch,” David remarks as he follows Leslie’s path to the language hall.

*In Latin class*

                Les is sitting in her usual place, a desk near the window in the back corner. Her textbook is opened to the vocabulary list for the chapter, and an open notebook is overlapping the page. However, instead of diligently translating, she is facing the window. Her eyes are closed and her chin is resting on a fist, as the sunlight is just beginning to stream in over her fingertips stretched over the edge of the desk.

                “Don’t leave me with those freaks again,” Dick says as he slides into the seat next to her.

                “They had fake bacon,” was all Les said through lazy lips. She acted as though she were asleep and too exhausted to be angry that she was being woken too early.

                Dick sighs in exasperation at her excuses. It was always like this. She always had some crazed reason for doing anything, and they often made sense less than her actions did. “I see you’re working diligently as always.”

                “Four syllables, wooh. That’s a new record.”

                “You know that insulting me isn’t a good idea.”

                “And you know that I’ve already translated this chapter and I know how Sextus gets out of the ditch.”

                “And how does that explain your sleeping in class?”

                “Little hint: Sextus does absolutely nothing. He just sits there and watches the carriage transform into Optimus Primus.”

                “You’re insane.”

                “YOU’RE insane.”

                “Are you going to wake up any time soon?”

                Les doesn’t respond, but she overdramatizes her response with fake snores and letting her head fall off of her fist. She ‘startles’ awake.

                “Why do I talk to you?”

                “Because you love me.”

                Luckily for Dick, Mr. Bowserman entered the classroom at that time, following the students who had wandered in while Dick was talking to the sleeping Les. “Salvete class!” He was answered by some incomprehensible gibber that the students hoped could pass for Latin. “Miss Birch, is there a reason you’re resting? Are you deeply thinking about your opening remark?”

                Les sits up to look at Mr. Bowserman and says matter-of-factly, “Noli illegitimi carborundum, Magister,” before returning to her preferred sleeping position of resting her face on the desk with her forehead resting on the backs of her hands.