Welcome to Sydney

[Jean Tilloy]

A roar of laughter and excitement bellowed from the large auditorium-like gym. The constant dribbling of a basketball rung in the ears of Jean. It wasn't really in his interest to play, but it was physical education. What is physical education anyway? Wouldn't it be the study of your physical surroundings? Is it really necessary to perform such meaningless activities? I think not. Physical education, P.E. for short, was the most unnecessary course required for high school completion... In Jean's eyes, that is. I mean, really. Sure, they want children to keep active, but the sweat, blood, and pain just isn't worth it.

Jean was sitting on the sidelines examining the sweat ridden students running up and down the court. A small frown was flattering his face in disgust. He really disliked this part of the day. Adorning his pale body was that of a gym uniform. It was plain. All it consisted of was a loose white shirt and gym shorts. Jean really wasn't into it. In fact, he really wasn't into the whole P.E. experience. At the moment, he was happier than usual. Even though he sported a frown, he was actually quite relieved. I mean, he wasn't playing. All he was doing at that moment was sitting on the bleachers. The seats next to him were occupied by students who claimed sickness or other complaints. Jean was no exception. What was his story? Well, you see... he had just 'tripped' while 'playing'. I say the term lightly, because... well, you should see Jean 'play'... Anyway, while he was 'playing', he 'tripped' and claimed of intense pain to the ankle. It always works. Who would suspect such a good student to make up such an excuse? No on with any par intelligence. So, that's where Jean was, gripping his 'hurt' ankle ever so lightly while watching the students run back and forth. To make him look ever the more in pain, he cursed under his breath in his thick french accent.

[Parker Davide]

It was funny how in high school every student had either a freaky obsession with gym or an unnatural loathing of the class period. There were those who simply adored the exercise and the violence that was involved in it, while others preferred the tactile alternative, which was to not play at all. No one was ever in the middle, well no one except for miss Parker. She could give or take the class, as far as she was concerned. Yes she absolutely adored running, but that was really the only exercise she enjoyed, every other task was... well nothing spectacular. There was really no clear point to gym other than a school board's half assed attempt to 'ride the generations obesity'. What a load of crap that was. Because while kids embarrassed themselves tripping over sports equipment other kids were pumping their veins with fats and sugars that adored the caf's. So in all honestly, Parker really couldn't give two shits whether she was in gym or not.

As usual, Miss Parker Davide wandered into class a good ten minutes late. And you know what else? She had the audacity to cut up her school-given gym clothes and make it to her liking. Suppose it really didn't surprise anyone when Parker pranced in with bright pink hems to her shorts and the shirt cut just so so that her cleavage was visible, but not enough to get her sent home. Oh and to hell with tying her hair back into a horrendous pony-tail. She had spent too much time this morning getting her hair to lay flat to bother with a lump in it later. So as Parker wandered out towards the gym floor, her nose started to wrinkle.

"Basketball?" she found herself spitting out in disgust. Turning her eyes towards her gym teacher she started to twist her lip ring around with her tongue. "Do I really have to play basketball?" It wasn't like she didn't want to break a nail, or that she was afraid of getting sweaty. In fact that was her favorite part of gym. It was just, basketball and Parker never went well together. Ever since she broke some kids nose last year because she tripped over the ball, Parker swore off the sport entirely.

Backing away from the floor she shook her head. "There's no way I'm playing basketball..." she mumbled, making her way over towards the stands. Taking a seat, she tugged her shorts down as she noticed they were crawling dangerously high up. Parker looked around at the rest of the kids on the bleachers, hiding a slight smirk. Go figure there'd be only a handful of kids that actually wanted to play. Letting out a bell-like laugh she shook her blonde locks about her shoulders. "Guess I'm not the only one with a phobia of big orange balls..." she joked, turning to the boy that was sitting next to her. Truth be told, she really didn't know anyone in her grade, mostly because she was fairly new to the school, in fact she was new to Sydney all together. But then, Parker was always the friendly sort.

[Jean Tilloy]

<sub>After a short while, Jean gave up on holding his ankle all together. There was no need to pretend any longer. He was sitting off on the bleachers while the coach was involved with other sorts of things happening on the court. To think... people actually involved in such a meaningless activity. Jean hated all sports. Why is it that there was even a class devoted to this mindless... dare I say, shit? In France there was no getting around it as well. It's like the whole world put sports on some kind of pedestal, or something.. He couldn't do this for the rest of his life though, skip gym I mean. Being new to a school make you ever the more vulnerable to 'names'. Oh those wretched things. If Jean keeps this up, the first thing he'll be known for is, "Boy with endless sickness's"... It translates better in French, I swear.

Just because he doesn't want to play, doesn't mean he wants to watch. Actually, if he had a choice, he wouldn't be there at all.. Jean would probably be on his merry way, roaming the halls for something interesting to do. I do suppose that request wouldn't go over well with the coach. I mean, ...with his hurt ankle and all. What I'm trying to say, is that he wasn't really paying all that much attention towards the game. Every little distraction he took with relief. (He wasn't really much of the sports fan, if you didn't already guess...) One of those relieving distractions was Ms. Parker Davide. Ah, what the beauty. Jean's stormy blue eyes followed the petite girl as she pranced around the court in her eccentrically styled uniform. What she did with the linens that she was given was quite nice.

Jean's frown slowly morphed into what seemed to be some kind of a smirk. Her beauty not only pleased him, but amused him as well. The way she walked, the way she talked, everything about her seemed to have this very entertaining edge to it. She seemed American, but you could never tell. The way she presented herself was very... shall I say, laid back? Americans are known for that... no? Jean slowly leaned his arms back on the bleachers, resting his neck in the make-shift pillow that his hands had created. Ah, the pleasures of beautiful women.

As she approached him, he smiled. Jean had heard her rambling on to the coach about how she definitely did not want to play this type of sport. Jean didn't really know anything about basketball, nor did he care. He doesn't have an issue with just this sport, but the whole family of outdoor activities. It just.. it just didn't sit well for him. Jean continued to follow the young lady as she grew closer. It was nice having her presence closer than it had been. "Ah, no no. I am not afraid of... eh.. inanimate objects?" His accent was rather thick, and it was obvious he didn't take sarcasm... well. His words were also hesitant. Jean had a pretty large English dictionary, but... just.. trying to find the right word for what he is trying to say... That's the tough part.</sub>

This post has been edited by Jean Tilloy on Mar 25 2008, 02:28 PM