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Laws Of Motion
Topic Started: May 3 2015, 11:02 PM (1,142 Views)
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((Irene Djezari continued from The Weekly Grind))

Sarah Ramsey had one good period of girl's PE, falling in the sweet spot after lunch where one didn't feel heavy, had good energy, and just enough focus because the end of the day was still too far away to distract. Not that Irene ever really needed any help in the way of distraction. Irene's body was more a rectangle than an ellipse primarily due to her distinct lack of focus. Said bod was clad in a maroon-red T-shirt with a howling coyote emblazoned over it in gold, along with shorts a size too poofy that she'd been too stubborn to exchange out and thus always wore with the drawstrings throttling her hips.

She was briefly out of commission, waylaid by an unfortunate case of acute floor-to-the-face brought on by tripping over an untied shoelace while Miss Ramsey had them running laps of the gym. Irene was afforded a cushy rest, thanks to being one of the girls in Cochise who naturally had Miss Ramsey's sympathies. They'd first met before Irene's freshman year, incidentally meeting and a local competition meet back when Irene had still been a gymnast. Even when she'd stopped perusing the sport she still watched a smattering of televised events, enough to talk shop with her new high school PE teacher, who always looked kindly on Irene for the conversation and her amusing antics in the gym. Irene was already full-up on PE credits, she had taken an extra year just because it was an easy and fun class for her with a teacher on her side. Ever the burning torch of youth, a bit of hustle from day to day fanned Irene's flames nicely.

Irene was reclining against a wall, flight of fancy having produced her phone from her pockets and the Principia Mathematica in pdf form. The convoluted language of the English translation actually aligned rather well with the rather obtuse nature of Irene's thought processes. It was almost like her brain translated onto paper, but with far less crude jokes.

Newton's discourse on the nature of parallax prompted Irene to lift her eyes from the text and hold up a thumb between herself and the girls still being shepherded around the court. The left eye closed and the right open, then they switched states, Irene did this at a rapid pace while trying to see how parallax was affected against the repetitive motion of her peers. It was just idle curiosity and soon her eyes returned to the text, her brief inklings of scientific discovery shattered by an inability to make inquiries from what others would perceive as some dork in a ponytail repeatedly winking at them for no discernible reason.

Back to the text she followed along for a brief amount of time, but her mind rapidly continued to degenerate along increasingly irrelevant paths. Before long Irene had long lost any sort of consistent pace with the text. She was still absorbed in thought, still reading, but she wasn't exactly there, instead distracted increasingly by thoughts that went above and beyond the foundations of Newtonian Physics. What was for lunch? Would Sandra be open for some shredding later? Maybe someday modern science could bring Newton back from the grave and she hang with him? Maybe he'd have been a toxic-as-fuck League player if he'd lived today?

Lost in her gratuitous daydreams Irene failed to notice that Ramsey wanted her back to work, the PE teacher barking out her name sharply a few times for the rest of the assembled class to hear.
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Blah blah blah ascendency of the celestial bodies, as the world turned round deferentially on it's epicycles. As The World Turns, the latest episode. Our heroine Irene had all manner of contextually inappropriate and pretentious prose flourishing in her brain. It was only one last shrill broadside from Miss Ramsey that finally liberated Irene from her own scatterbrain self.

"Sorry!!" Irene went zero to sixty in the blink of an eye, nearly hurtled over herself in her eagerness to get her show back on the road. She hadn't even remembered to put her phone somewhere safe, she just ran with it held in a hand. In running she was obstinate, possibly ostentatious, definitely obtuse. Her form was hardly that of a runners, her speed was a matter of brute force as opposed to technique. Only her impressive energy levels prevented her from tiring out quickly with poor her control was, it was only a measly step above the ninja running of Naruto's heyday. Every single wobbly step put her in danger of tripping, her arms made her Don Quixote's windmills taking to flight across the battlefield.

She was catching up on a girl who so far had thankfully avoided Ramsey's strong glare. Irene thought knew all of her fellow girl's names by heart, so she called out:

"Alicia!" While Irene's memory was at least precise it had some want for accuracy. That went for those she actually spoke to regularly, never mind the girls like Alice who Irene only had the briefest of interactions with, usually in the form of the occasional awkward sideways glance while in the changing rooms. Irene couldn't help the wandering eye, that was her honest-to-goodness excuse. "Alicia, Miss Ramsey. Hurry up before she starts looking your way again!" It was a good Samaritan deed that Irene was instinctively trying to pull. Heaven knew poor Alicia- Alice?- would get chewed out by a merciless Miss Ramsey if she was seen not at least pretending to try.
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That was supposed to be a pace? If Irene had actually known Alicia there would have been cause for complaint.

"Kinda slow here, aren't we?" Irene's mouth happily ran, far faster than the two girls were running at any rate. It ran ahead of such important things as prudence and tact. Irene didn't even seem to catch how horrifically rude she'd just been. She was already moving on to the next point. Also far faster than either of the girl's legs were currently moving.

"Alicia's cuter, I think." Weird ass way to recover, but... In context. At least Irene said it with no hesitation, no blush. To the outside world it looked like she actually believed her own bullshit. She legitimately did, no less. "I mean, I totally knew that your name was Alice the whole time. Don't get me wrong. I know every name ever and ever. Got them all in here from first day one." It had to be said, whether it was casual or shit-eating, Irene had quite the nice smile. She grinned over at Alice as they continued to meander around the gymnasium. She even helpfully lagged a bit more on purpose to make it seem like she was the last place girl. Ramsey would probably be far more at ease with one of her favorite girls being in last place.

"But yeah, if you insist! Alice it is." Irene shrugged nonchalantly. With any luck the name would actually be encoded somewhere into the RAM, emphasis on the 'Random', of her brain. "So how are ya? In before 'tired'."
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As far as Irene was aware, she'd committed no great sin. She'd said something, Alicia- Alice- had responded. Simple matter of conversational discourse, right? Newton's Third. Irene was satisfied, that was to say, ignorance was satisfaction. Besides, it was reasonable to assume curt responses would be an issue of mechanics, of lame lung capacity being exceeded. Oblivious as Irene was in some- many- respects she did have functional eyes, and she could see the pain threaded through her every breath Alice pushed. Still didn't excuse the slow pace.

"Eh?" She almost didn't notice Jerry until his voice was suddenly exploding in her ear. Irene kept her footing, thankfully for all involved. Djezari wipe outs were the sort with the potential for collateral damage. Irene wasn't the sort to cleanly fall to the ground, she preferred making more of an ass of herself than that. "Whoa. He came out of nowhere, huh?" Winning observations today.

"Well we are slowish. Taking up space. I mean, neither of us are broad girls. Two of us could hit the broad side of a..." She wasn't really sure how she'd intended to make that cliche contextually relevant. "You know." A brilliant finisher. She glanced after Jerry, contemplative as he continued to outpace them. He glanced back, the sort of brief backwards 'appraise the losers I'm totally beating' look Irene knew well. One she'd worn often back in the day while the coach or teacher or irritated teammate would chaste her, 'stop doing that because you keep falling over onto your face'. "No foul." A sage nod Alice's way. "Don't have to worry." A moment of silence followed, then suddenly:

"Yo Fury!" Irene's voice was a bit of a sleeper, she was the sort of girl who normally sounded saint-like until she raised her voice and suddenly ears were bleeding. Perfect dead ringer for Miss Ramsey. Actually, that might have been another reason she was a favored student. "Betcha you can't out lap me!"
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Irene had expected at least a bit of return banter. Maybe witty, at least wittier than anything she herself could produce on the fly. But no, Jerry was just burning rubber. Wasn't this guy a martial artist or something? Irene vaguely knew that in a strict match-up she was probably outclassed in terms of technique, but alea iacta est. Competitive spirit set the adrenaline in her aflame, her muscles were suddenly burning as she tore after him, bounding from Alice's side in a flash.

As hard as Irene could have tried to actually catch up, it was futile, and after a few seconds of brute force she was already spent. Not from any actual loss of energy, she was still redeemable for at least a whole marathon. It was strictly a loss of verve, her fiery spirit quickly petering out as her interest in actually trying waned. 'Eh' was the statement of the hour here. What was the point of pushing herself? As her split-second hype subsided she realized she didn't actually have much stake in the matter. Yes, she had started it, but it had just been a passing fancy! It totally didn't count, never mind that Jerry didn't know that.

For a second Irene swore Miss Ramsey was yelling something at her. Nice and slow now she was able to safely appraise the situation.

Oh shit, she'd abandoned her (wo)men! Alice was under fire in the trenches. Her chances of making another lap- let alone surviving the rest of the period's worth of sustained lung damage- were dubious as far as Irene could tell. Good thing Irene hadn't gone completely off-the-wall running after Jerry like a ravening dog.

"Sarah, I'll run with Alicia! Alice! Fuck!" Irene was Ramsey-approved to the point where even unrestrained language and casual first-naming earned her no ire. She was greeted with a curt nod.

"Keep her on her toes, Djezari!"

"Will do!" Irene shook her head and mouthed an exaggerated 'hell no' Alice's way as she executed a beautiful one eighty and jogged back to her comrade's side. "We can just walk. Long as I'm here Miss Ramsey'll stay off your back."
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More sneakers screeched past. Irene hadn't really counted on her precious PE period being willed away in virtual stasis like this. She already felt pent up and restless despite the fact that she was moving; she was impatiently snapping the toes of her feet against the ground a few times with each step just to make the lazy motions count for a little something more. She was committed to Alice for the duration, however. It was only right, and it wasn't like Alice was bad company. She was cute. Maybe a bit quiet, but that was half of Irene's friends anyways. Either they were quiet and secretly annoying or openly annoying yet still somehow redeemable.

Best she could hope for was that Alice would eventually recover and they could go at a decent clip for at least a while. Fight the good fight. Worst case scenario she supposed she could try to set the record for fastest cross-campus transposition to burn off her spare energy before her next class. AP Econ, where she'd have to hunker down and ignore the teacher to study the musings of the yung Maynard Keynes himself.

Come to think of it. She wondered if she actually shared any sort of class with Alice and just didn't realize it. Irene typically wasn't too cognizant of things that weren't her own idle amusements while in the classroom.

"What sort of subjects- teachers- have you got this year, Alice? Alice. I said it right, hah!" She knew for a fact that she didn't share any classes with Jerry, at least as far as she was concerned given her somewhat lacking opinion of his academic capacity. She'd admit, at the very least, that he was faster than her. At this rate it was inevitable that he'd catch up to them again, whatever sort of confrontation that entailed.
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Irene had been dumb enough to do was challenge someone who was physically her equal to a contest where he held the clear upper hand. Jerry was on a hard and fast approach vector. Soon the moment of reckoning would come. It was the Final Countdown. Du du du duuu. Du du du du du. Du du du du. Du du du du du du-

Oh.

Fury was the only Jerry in this period, right?

That ended anticlimactically.

"Disappointing..." Irene mumbled to herself, almost failing to catch that Alice had said something. "Wait, good job? What'd I do?" What had she done? Most of the period was already a blur to her, the sands of time having eaten away at the integrity of her short-term memories. Something about besmirching the memory of Issac Newton and the broad side of barns. She'd shouted something at Fury. Made an ass of herself before Alice. All in all a typical school period for Miss Djezari.

So much time lost achieving nothing. She'd been eager to take the time off to let her mind wander when she'd been injured earlier, but when she had been ready to start doing something for real distractions had been abound. Had she even looped the gym one full time yet? Irene composed a prayer for all of the gods she wasn't sure of believing in, that she would find a good use for all the energy she hadn't burned in this class. Nearly lost Alice's thread of the conversation,. Again.

"AP Calc, APUSH, AP English- must be different teachers?- AD Stats..." That last bit had been an in-joke. Hint hint, League of Legends, hint hint. Ramsey called out the end of the run, and Irene was already resolved to sprint the entire way to the locker room, blitzing ahead of most of the other guys and girls ambling out of the gym. "Cya Alicia!"

((Irene Djezari continued in The Theatrics Formula))
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