never seem to find a reason [open]

[Evan Lear]

Evan scowled down at the page filled with messy handwriting. Fuck. This was not going well. Screwing up the page, he lobbed it across the room into the bin, with unerring aim.That was the third time he'd scrapped his work today. Swearing furiously under his breath, he began to write again, wishing he could find somewhere quieter. At least one of his roommates were in their room, which ruled that out; the music rooms were too loud to concentrate on homework, and it was raining, which meant he wasn't going outside. Still muttering obscenities, Evan continued work on his essay, hoping that he'd be done before many more people came in.

Stopping his furious scrawling, he read over his work, and rolled his eyes. "Fuck this," he murmured, threw the balled-up paper across the room, and sat back in his seat, tapping the pen on the table. After a few moments of being sat like that, he decided he wanted his mp3 player. They hadn't let him keep it, which was a bitch. He stared into the middle distance, frowning faintly, tapping his pen rhythmically on his paper as he gazed at nothing in particular, thinking about his new school. It was better than home, that was for damn sure. There were too many kids, though, and he missed Adrian. He wondered how his brother was getting in, in his loony bin for kids without any particular talent. He'd probably killed someone by now, without Evan there to stop him. The thought made him smile faintly.

But even with all the psychos that came here, it was a pretty good place. The teachers knew their stuff, the musicians all knew what they were doing, and mostly people left him alone. It was the therapy he was apprehensive about. He'd never seen a shrink before, and he wasn't quite sure what it would be like. Hopefully, he wouldn't have to talk about his feelings too much, but then again, that was what therapy was all about. That pissed him off. He didn't want, need, or have to talk about his feelings, and besides, he had about three emotional states anyway: angry, sad, content. He didn't tend to get happy these days, but he could feel reasonably peaceful, at least, like he did now.

[Chanterelle Stone]

Chanterelle was having problems of her own with homework. Hers were that she had to work in a pair for some project - the teacher was very excited about there finally being two actors - and that meant she had to work with Riordan Shonski, bastard of the year 2010. Probably the years before, as well. She was ever-so-carefully trying to avoid him, so far, by ignoring him if he spoke to her during class, and turning her back on him if he came near her, even just to walk past in the corridor. The teacher could yell all she wanted; but there was no way she was going near him, unless it was with something heavy that she could use to smash his thick skull. That'd be nice.

Smiling at the idea, she slipped into the common room. Avoiding Rio meant spending more time in her room, which got pretty boring. She missed people. At home, she didn't have much time to get out and see her friends, with the babies, and as much as she loved them, she was excited about being able to have friends again. And maybe even dating, although she was a little worried about that. God, if she got pregnant again... Maybe she should become a lesbian. Less sperm to deal with.

She looked carefully around the room to check Fuckhead - as Chris called him - wasn't about, and then smiled as she saw a depressed looking boy throw a piece of paper across the room. He looked happy. Sarcasm, sarcasm. Crossing the room towards him, she threw herself in the chair opposite, being sure to make a sound, in case he was one of those psychos that would attack her if she snuck up on him. " Having fun? " She fiddled with her hair as she waited for an answer, running her fingers through the bleached blonde strands and reminding herself to ask her psychiatrist when she could dye it again. There was no way she was staying here if they made her grow her hair out; her roots were already starting to show.

[Evan Lear]

Evan jumped when the girl appeared beside him, and glared at her. Why did the people here insist on talking? Talking to him, specifically. He didn't recognise her: there was a surprise, considering the amount of socialising he'd been doing recently. When she spoke, he raised an eyebrow at her. "Time of my fucking life. Did you want something?" he wondered absently if she was just looking for someone to annoy, or if she was actually trying to be nice. Well, he supposed he'd rather talk to her than carry on with his homework, but the option was only marginally preferable. In fact, he'd much rather just go and listen to some music somewhere, but no. Of course, that would make him fairly content, and they couldn't have that now, could they?

Dropping his pen, he folded his arms and lifted his head, watching her properly now, dragging himself out of his reverie. She was about his age, blonde hair that was far too pale to be natural, and pale skin. She wasn't a musician, or a dancer: he recognised all the musicians, and she didn't have the same posture the dancers here did. That left acting or writing, then. Swinging his legs up onto the desk, slightly to the side so he could still see her face, he continued his analysis of her. There was nothing visible that she could be here for. Well, visible wasn't the right word; apparent. Obvious. Something like that. She definitely wasn't a mute, and apparently not socially anxious or whatever the disorder was called.

He mentally slapped himself. Great, make a list of the things she isn't. Why do you care, anyway? It's none of your business. You're not a fucking shrink, you can't diagnose her from a few words. So he simply sat in silence, watching the blonde girl as he waited for her to say something else to him, hopefully goodbye.

[Chanterelle Stone]

Oh, this guy was fun, wasn't he? Chanterelle rolled her eyes and stretched her legs out, putting them on the small table in front of her so they were almost nudging Evan's. She could feel the boys gaze on her and smiled flirtatiously, raising her eyebrows in a 'can I help you?' expression. "Just to destroy your carefree spirit, apparently." Blatantly, she stared back, studying the boys body with some pleasure. Well, if all the boys here looked like him... She'd be happy. As long as some were better-mannered than this kid, or at least a little more talkative. "So, you're chatty. What's your name? I'm Ely, if I like you, Chanterelle if you're a teacher, and bitch if you get on my bad side." It was always embarrassing admitting her actual name; she might as well say 'hi, I'm Mushroom, you?'

She continued playing with her hair, twirling it round and round her fingers absently. He looked cute enough for her, although not very friendly. Chanterelle almost snorted. Since when did friendly matter to her? As long as a guy would be nice to her, she'd fuck them. No, she wouldn't, because she wasn't doing that at a new school. "Why are you here? Let me guess...anti-social personality disorder?" She didn't really know what the condition was, aside from the obvious part - being anti-social, which seemed to fit Evan. "I'm here for IED. Intermittent Explosive Disorder. Basically, I get pissed-off if you say something bad about my kids." She smiled, almost challengingly, daring him to say something. "And I've been misdiagnosed with Munchausens by Proxy Syndrome. Apparently, I abused James and Jamilla."

Unless he had the IQ of a retarded ant, he'd probably work out that James and Jamilla were her twins, but it seemed likely that he had that IQ, seeing as he'd used about five words so far. As she thought about the two, she tightened her jaw slightly, her smile disappearing. They were both left, helpless, with Megan, who was probably cutting their arms and rushing them to hospital as she talked to this boy. Her fist clenched, and she took a deep breath, trying to relax and not punch things (like the boy, who looked like he could punch her back).

[Evan Lear]

Evan glanced at her reaction. Yep, it was usual when people first met him. Often went on long after, as well, not that he cared. but it would be nice if, someday, he could meet someone who didn't roll their eyes at him and sigh long-sufferingly. His shrink had never done that, it was true, but he didn't really consider the shrinks to be real people, so they didn't exactly count. Besides, they'd been trained to hide their reactions, which meant that they probably inwardly rolled their eyes at him all the time, he just couldn't tell. Sighing, he shook himself from that train of thought to concentrate on the girl with the dyed blonde hair sitting in front of him.

She asked the dreaded question. Of course she had, there was no other topic of fucking conversation around here, was there? He shrugged. "Conduct disorder, actually. Anti-social's for over eighteens. And depression. And a mild case of sadism," no reason to hold back on her. She'd asked, after all. Maybe she'd freak out; give him a spectacle for entertainment. Not likely, but he could dream.

She had kids? Well, that was new. He looked at her, suddenly interested, unsure whether or not to believe her. Maybe she had abused the kids and was lying to him; on the other hand, maybe, just maybe, she was telling the truth. people did that sometimes, for reasons that Evan couldn't think of. He stared at her, much as she was doing to him, sizing her up and wondering whether or not to believe her. in the end, he decided to; after all, you never got anywhere by mistrusting everyone. "That's a bitch," he replied finally, leaning further back in his seat as he noticed her checking him out. He really wasn't interested in sex, but it was nice to know people still paid attention.

[Chanterelle Stone]

Chanterelle casually moved her foot, so it was resting against Evan's. Not on top of it or anything; just gently touching. She wondered how he'd respond. Most guys realized that she wanted sex, and didn't usually decline, although she thought that had more to do with the male sex drive then her looks. Some stuttered and looked all embarrassed, and they were the ones that she didn't waste her time with. Somehow, she knew that Evan didn't fall into the second category, seeing as he wasn't a complete retard. There were always the guys that smirked and said 'no thanks', which was vaguely likely. Hopefully not, because she hated wasting time. "So, gonna answer my question? What's your name?"

"Nice. Sadism, huh? Sexual or...whatever the other one is?" General, that was the word. General sadists were just a waste of time. Sexual ones were...okay. She wasn't personally into all that spanking or whatever, but it wasn't a complete turn-off. Anyway, he'd said that he only had a mild case. "Sexual is the good one, I think... Depression sucks." Conduct disorder? An excuse for doing what you liked, she thought. "Yeah, I was gonna get diagnosed with that, I think... They went for IED instead. There was a slight incident with my stepmothers head and a baseball bat." She smirked. "Good times."

"Bitch just about sums it up. Well...sums her up." She paused, tipping her head to the side. "So, what group thing are you in? I'm an actress, so naturally, they assume I'm a liar." It was totally unfair. "I presume you don't act, seeing as you aren't in my classes?" 'State the obvious, much...' Ely paused for a second, weighing up the pros and cons of asking about Mr. Dickhead Shonski. It was tempting...but no. He might be a friend of Rio's, and that'd be embarrassing. She opted for a more casual, broader question instead. "What are the other kids like here? Haven't met anyone yet, really..." Realizing how sorry for herself she sounded, she hurried on. "Not that I want to meet any of the retards from around here, really." She flashed a smile. "Present company not included..."

[Evan Lear]

Yep, she was interested. He gave the foot a blank look, his eyes doing a quick sweep up her leg and back to her face, and decided he wasn't very interested. While she was pretty, sex wasn't his main concern, and he also thought she seemed like the clingy type, who would hang around him afterwards, expecting him to pay her more attention, and frankly, he couldn't be bothered with that. He shifted his foot ever so slightly to the side, no longer touching, blank-faced. Not interested. Hopefully, she'd take the hint. If not, well. He could shag her and leave her, since that was more or less what she was asking for.

"Depression sucks? You think so?" he drawled, raising an eyebrow at her, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "And it's just... sadism, not sexual. Sorry." He found her boasting tiresome. What did he care of she'd gone after her stepmother with a baseball bat? It wasn't exactly a turn-on, knowing the girl in front of you was a) a mother and b) an attempted murderer. But then, so was pretty much everyone here, so when you put it in perspective, she probably wasn't all that bad. "Musician," he told her, predicting her next questions: "I play bass... and sing, a little. Rock, mostly. As for the other kids... I don't talk to people much. The other musicians are fairly cool. They're all a bit nuts, but what can you expect in a place like this?" he leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. Finally, he answered her original question. "And my name's Evan." He turned his head slightly so he could still see her face, moving his legs to give himself a clearer view. She was better than a lot of the kids here. The musicians, well... nuts didn't begin to describe them. There was a girl who attempted to shag anything that was even remotely attractive, a girl who accused everyone of talking about her and didn't hear anything anyone said, a quiet girl who seemed far too normal to be here, and then there was Maddy and Chris, and Chris' sister Kitty. He didn't want to think about them; he got enough of them as it was, didn't need to have them in his mind all the time.

[Chanterelle Stone]

Chanterelle registered the lack of physical contact; she ignored it, stretching out her legs casually, brushing her foot against his leg again, but moving back into their old position; not quite touching. She rolled her eyes at his sarcastic tone. God, some kids here so touchy. She could be one of them, under the right circumstances, but that wasn't the point.

"I'm sure it does," her tone equally sarcastic. She figured that depression was just something that you could snap out of; just attention seeking, really. Of course, her IED could be taken in the same way - something that she could just snap out of, if she was so inclined. Ely looked curiously at Evan, who seemed...normal, so far. Slightly sarcastic, and quiet, but within the bounds of normal behaviour. Not depressive, or sadistic, really. "So, shouldn't you be trying to break my arm or something? Or...well, you tell me what sadists do." Her experience with them was limited to Riordan, and he was incredibly different to Evan. She couldn't really believe that the two had the same disorder; Rio loved playing with peoples emotions, that much was obvious. He liked seeing people rise to his bait, which she unfortunetly did, every time. Evan was just...quiet was her first impression.

"Sounds great." There wasn't really much more to say; Wow, that's so amazing, wonderful, fantastic sounded a little like she was gushing. Which was something Chanterelle tended not to do. "Yeah, most of the kids seem...fucked up. Great to meet you, Evan." She watched him, continuing to fiddle with her hair, wondering if she was going to get a shag out of him. Maybe. He didn't seem interested, but that wasn't something that usually deterred her. Exactly the opposite, in fact; it was more of a challenge when the boys weren't eager. A lot more entertaining.

Technically, she supposed, she had too much sex. Not daily, and she wasn't addicted to it, or anything. It wasn't really the sex she liked, either. It was more the bits after, when a guy was holding her. That was what she liked about it; someone having their arms round her, and knowing that she'd made them happy, for a little while at least. Maybe it did make her a slut. Well, what else did she expect? I am my fathers daughter, she thought bitterly, stretching her arms out in front of her.

[Evan Lear]

Well, sarcasm. That was good; at least some of the kids here understood it. He glanced at her, one eyebrow raised, smirking slightly. "Would you rather I did try to break your arm? And I dunno. It depends on the person. Some of them just like to go round beating people up, others do... What? Why are you asking, anyway?" he snapped suddenly, but there was no venom in his voice. This girl was bearable, at least, and far more interesting than homework; not that that was saying much.

"Yeah, it's great," he replied, laughing bitterly. Being locked up in a studio all day with a bunch of nutters, most of whom were ridiculously violent. There were two IED kids, he knew that much, and a bipolar. You didn't have to be amazing at psychology to work that out; one day, he'd be high as a kite, dancing around like a monkey on crack, the next he'd be yelling and swearing at everyone and glaring around, looking like he wanted to die. And of course, he was Evan's roommate, which meant that they were together half the time. Evan sighed to himself and turn his attention back to Chanterelle, giving her a wry smile. "Nice to meet you too, Chanterelle," he drawled, deliberately not calling her by her nickname, hoping she'd take the hint. Your friends call you Ely; I'm not a friend. Keep it in mind.

Her legs had moved to brush against his again. Well, she was persistent. He lifted an eyebrow at her, but didn't move his legs again. No point, she'd just follow them. Well, maybe, if she was that desperate for sex... as long as she didn't have any contagious diseases. Or any diseases at all, really. Evan wasn't willing to take risks. Still, asking would completely put her off...

[Chanterelle Stone]

Chanterelle laughed quietly. "You could try breaking my arm...or any part of me. Not sure you'd manage..." She was fairly confident that she could handle Evan; most guys, really. Besides, it didn't seem likely that he'd try, so she could be as cocky as she liked about it. If he actually tried? Hmm... She watched him carefully, assessing what she'd do if he came at her from different angles. Her best plan of attack - defence; she'd never attack someone - was probably to kick him in the balls, she decided. "And just curious. All I know about sadists is...pretty much what I saw in Silence of the Lambs." Or was Dr. Lecter a sociopath? It was all the same to her; breaking arms and eating people was in much the same category.

"It's hell in the acting studio. Some freak, 'Riordan Shonski'... He's sadistic. God, is that the diagnosis to have or something?" Everyone seemed to have it. Everyone being two guys that she'd met, but still. That was a lot of kids in this small school of what, sixteen students? And she hadn't met half of them; most looked a little...well, dull to her. "So, I'm not your friend...wanna know what my lovers call me?" Chanterelle laughed, looking up at the ceiling. It wasn't like she could get much more blatant, unless she gave him a lap-dance or something. Which was always something to consider. The question was clearly hypothetical, but she had a few answers worked out. Just in case he was a complete retard and had suddenly lost the ability to use sarcasm.

She ignored his raised eyebrow, smiling to herself. "I'm pretty thick-skinned...you might have noticed." He would have unless...no. Not unless. Nobody could have missed how little she cared about what they said to her. "So, interested or not?" She raised one eyebrow. "And by interested, I mean in sex. If not... It's pointless talking to you." There. He could do what he wanted with that; either tell her he wanted a shag or tell her to fuck off. She'd prefer the first, honestly. Her ego could be bruised, with the right wording, and she wasn't fond of that idea. Besides, it was a fun challenge. See how many of the guys she could sleep with. Absently, Chanterelle wondered what had happened to her earlier pact of not having sex.

[Evan Lear]

Well, she was cocky. Evan glanced her up and down skeptically. As far as he was concerned, that was just asking for someone to come along and do it, but it wouldn't be him. For one thing, he wouldn't get a shag out of her if he did, and for another, she was too far away. Of course, he couldn't shag her while staying in the exact same position, but sex was much more fun than trying to break someone's arm. Sighing, he leaned back, stretching his arms out languidly in front of him. Might as well show her what she was getting, since getting it she was.

"Never seen it," he shrugged calmly. "I wouldn't know," tell the truth, he didn't much fancy sitting here talking about his mental issues to this girl. It wasn't a gripping topic of conversation, since he'd been through it about a million times before with hundreds of different people; his brother, his father - Evan's eyes narrowed at the thought of that particular conversation - his shrink, his other shrink, his friends, and just about everyone who he'd ever spoken to in his life. Then she spoke again, and he sneered. "Not really, seeing as I don't plan on remembering you beyond today. I'm assuming that doesn't present a problem," he told her, his voice cold. There. She knew what she was getting, she could either take it or leave it.

Well, she was as blunt as he was. Her next words had him grinning over at her, a very rare sight. After a moment, he drawled, "Yeah, I'm interested." He swung his legs off the table, glanced over the camera, and jerked his head to indicate that she should follow. There were no cameras in the dorm rooms, he knew that much, so that was where he headed, not bothering to look back and see if Chanterelle was following. If so, he was in for a shag; if not, he was going to head back to his room anyway, so no great loss.

[Chanterelle Stone]

Chanterelle was vaguely disappointed that he didn't try; it would have been amusing if he had. Something to get her out of classes, anyway, depending if it was her right hand or not... She reminded herself that having her arm broken was not just painful, it meant she couldn't have sex, and shrugged. If he was gonna try, her arm was going to stay intact. Of course, it would anyway -she'd bet that he wouldn't be able to touch her, without permission- but it was worth the chance. Her eyes flickered slowly across his body, taking her time and ignoring how obvious she was being.

"Aww, too scary for you?" Smirking, she rolled her eyes. What guy -over fourteen, which she was sure Evan was- hadn't seen it? Ely debated asking his actual age, but left it, mainly due to her lack of not caring. His reply to her question made her laugh out loud, ignoring the stab of hurt. "I assume we won't be...meeting again, then? Pity. Well..." With another quick glance up and down him, she snorted. "Maybe not." Implying that he wasn't attractive; it was surprising how easy it was to bruise a guys ego. "No, not really a problem. I'm sure I can find...someone else." There were a few other males that intrigued her, and she made a mental note to find out their names. Some of them might actually be nice, shock horror!

She stood when Evan did, following close beside him, one hand crossed over her stomach defensively and the other dangling at her side. Where were they heading? Oh, the boys dorms; only a minute away. Chanterelle resigned herself to sex, hoping that Evan had a condom on him or in his room. The best way to learn about safe sex was getting pregnant; well, getting AIDs probably being better. But more deadly. And you didn't get the cute babies... Sighing, she realized that getting pregnant hadn't deterred her from sex at all; having more children would be great. No sarcasm, surprisingly.