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brat_inslayageThe slap of the manila folder hitting the table in the east wing drawing room echoed off the walls and ceiling, but you got used to the echoes in a house with a lot of space and nowhere near enough people to fill it up.
"Another fight, Kennedy? What were you thinking? No, before you answer that, here's a simpler question: were you even thinking?"
Kennedy looked down at the folder, emblazoned with the crest of her most recent boarding school, then up at her Watcher and shrugged. Constance Aluko did not look amused at all, but then again, when did she ever? "He started it when he called me a dyke." He started it. Oh, that's mature, Kennedy.
Constance sighed and pinched at the bridge of her nose, and after ten years of seeing that gesture on a regular basis Kennedy didn't have to wonder if her Watcher was annoyed with her. "You started a fight over a childish insult. I would think you ought to be above that sort of thing by now; after all, I've only had to calm your teachers down since the sixth grade every time one of them had vapors over your blithe announcements about liking girls, which only brings me back around to my original question. Were you even thinking?"
"Hey." Kennedy spread her hands and held them up. "He tried to hit me first. You glossed over that part. And besides you, what, wanted me to stand there and take it? Constance, you've been training me to fight since I was six. I'm sixteen, and the odds of me getting called as the Slayer get slimmer by the day." Which was an awfully uncharitable complaint to level against the current Slayer, given her death was the prerequisite to getting the gig, not to mention that Kennedy's odds hadn't been that great to begin with, what with thousands of Potentials all over the world. "What good is all that training going to do if I can't use it for something?"
"This is what defensive techniques are for! Immobilizing holds! Evasive moves! You did not have to throw him face first into a locker and break his nose!" Constance jabbed a finger at the folder (yes, that would be a copy of Kennedy's student records) in an unusually demonstrative gesture, and Kennedy wondered if that vein at her temple was going to pop any second. Wow, that was a new one. "This is the second school that's expelled you, and the term barely started!"
"But under completely different circumstances from the last time," Kennedy felt compelled to point out, still wearing that nonchalant expression that she always calculated to drive Constance nuts.
"Well, yes." It was pretty impressive how cutting the sarcasm in that refined accent could be. "I suppose it's at least much less mortifying than being caught with the vice-principal's daughter in the cafeteria after hours, isn't it?"
"She came on to me." To her (dubious, perhaps) credit, Kennedy managed to look at least partly contrite, but she still picked her next words carefully. "I already promised you I wouldn't get caught doing that again."
Yes. Carefully picked to see if that throbbing vein would kick up the tempo.
"Don't split semantic hairs with me, young lady," Constance warned her, thus proving that the verbal feint-and-jab went both ways, as it had for years; Kennedy hated being called "young lady." The emphatic finger-waving was directed at Kennedy now, too. "This is getting out of hand. You had no business getting into one fight, much less three. This is not what your training was meant to be about!"
There was only so long Kennedy could go, maintaining that nonchalant front, and she'd just reached her limit. "What he did wasn't right. Those other fights? Girls were getting picked on. Girls who couldn't stand up for themselves. If all this training isn't going to be used as the Slayer, then what the hell am I wasting it for? The Slayer's supposed to, to, protect people from the forces of evil. And if I can't do that, then at least let me protect people from the forces of--jerkitude."
Constance sighed, and all of a sudden she looked very tired. "Kennedy, I respect that you want to do the right thing, even though I don't know how you manage to rub everyone the wrong way in the process of trying. But this isn't the way to do it, and I don't know how we're going to explain this to your father."
They didn't bother to address the issue of explaining it to her stepmother. She wasn't particularly concerned about it one way or another.
Kennedy rolled her eyes. "Please. He's in Hong Kong for at least another month anyway. He'll get over it between now and then."
Constance didn't even try to refute that. "I'm afraid this Potential Slayer business is going to your head, Kennedy." That was a generous statement; it had gone to her head a long time ago. "You can't keep doing things like this--which is why I've taken the liberty of getting you admitted to a new school. And I should say, you're lucky I found a place willing to take you on, given the record you're beginning to accumulate."
"You make it sound like I'm some kind of serial expellee," Kennedy muttered, but accepted it with a matter-of-fact nod. "Where is it this time?"
"Maryland."
"Oooh. Crab country."
"Kennedy, be serious," Constance admonished. "I did some very extensive research on Fandom High, and I think it may be uniquely suited to your, ah, situation."
"What, is everybody there gay?" She quickly dropped that line of wisecracking at the Look (patent pending) she got. "Okay, okay. Why's it so special?"
"They're willing to take problem students," Constance said dryly.
"Whoa, hey, back up!" Kennedy exclaimed. "You're sending me to reform school?"
"No," Constance said with entirely due emphasis. "If you would ever let me finish before plowing on ahead... Now, as I've said, I did extensive research. Things you aren't likely to find in the school's standard brochure. Fandom is no stranger to, shall we say, incursions of the supernatural variety. They've even got an informal sort of defense reserve among the students. Your status as a Potential Slayer may not have to be as heavily guarded a secret there especially if, as I'm concerned is the case, you continue with this trend of jeopardizing the secrecy of it."
Kennedy rolled her eyes again; that was an exaggeration. But then again, uptight British Watcher.
"And really," Constance continued, "if we can't curb your tendency toward exuberant expressions of aggression, you may at least be able to put them to good use there."
Kennedy's eyes lit up. "You mean I might actually get to kill things? Sweet! I'll go pack. Right now."
She was halfway out of the drawing room on her way up to her rooms in the next second, but she still heard Constance's exasperated sigh. "I ought to have known you would latch on to that bit."
[OOC: NFI and NFB, of course, OOC perfectly acceptable and happily dipped in chocolate fondue.]
"Another fight, Kennedy? What were you thinking? No, before you answer that, here's a simpler question: were you even thinking?"
Kennedy looked down at the folder, emblazoned with the crest of her most recent boarding school, then up at her Watcher and shrugged. Constance Aluko did not look amused at all, but then again, when did she ever? "He started it when he called me a dyke." He started it. Oh, that's mature, Kennedy.
Constance sighed and pinched at the bridge of her nose, and after ten years of seeing that gesture on a regular basis Kennedy didn't have to wonder if her Watcher was annoyed with her. "You started a fight over a childish insult. I would think you ought to be above that sort of thing by now; after all, I've only had to calm your teachers down since the sixth grade every time one of them had vapors over your blithe announcements about liking girls, which only brings me back around to my original question. Were you even thinking?"
"Hey." Kennedy spread her hands and held them up. "He tried to hit me first. You glossed over that part. And besides you, what, wanted me to stand there and take it? Constance, you've been training me to fight since I was six. I'm sixteen, and the odds of me getting called as the Slayer get slimmer by the day." Which was an awfully uncharitable complaint to level against the current Slayer, given her death was the prerequisite to getting the gig, not to mention that Kennedy's odds hadn't been that great to begin with, what with thousands of Potentials all over the world. "What good is all that training going to do if I can't use it for something?"
"This is what defensive techniques are for! Immobilizing holds! Evasive moves! You did not have to throw him face first into a locker and break his nose!" Constance jabbed a finger at the folder (yes, that would be a copy of Kennedy's student records) in an unusually demonstrative gesture, and Kennedy wondered if that vein at her temple was going to pop any second. Wow, that was a new one. "This is the second school that's expelled you, and the term barely started!"
"But under completely different circumstances from the last time," Kennedy felt compelled to point out, still wearing that nonchalant expression that she always calculated to drive Constance nuts.
"Well, yes." It was pretty impressive how cutting the sarcasm in that refined accent could be. "I suppose it's at least much less mortifying than being caught with the vice-principal's daughter in the cafeteria after hours, isn't it?"
"She came on to me." To her (dubious, perhaps) credit, Kennedy managed to look at least partly contrite, but she still picked her next words carefully. "I already promised you I wouldn't get caught doing that again."
Yes. Carefully picked to see if that throbbing vein would kick up the tempo.
"Don't split semantic hairs with me, young lady," Constance warned her, thus proving that the verbal feint-and-jab went both ways, as it had for years; Kennedy hated being called "young lady." The emphatic finger-waving was directed at Kennedy now, too. "This is getting out of hand. You had no business getting into one fight, much less three. This is not what your training was meant to be about!"
There was only so long Kennedy could go, maintaining that nonchalant front, and she'd just reached her limit. "What he did wasn't right. Those other fights? Girls were getting picked on. Girls who couldn't stand up for themselves. If all this training isn't going to be used as the Slayer, then what the hell am I wasting it for? The Slayer's supposed to, to, protect people from the forces of evil. And if I can't do that, then at least let me protect people from the forces of--jerkitude."
Constance sighed, and all of a sudden she looked very tired. "Kennedy, I respect that you want to do the right thing, even though I don't know how you manage to rub everyone the wrong way in the process of trying. But this isn't the way to do it, and I don't know how we're going to explain this to your father."
They didn't bother to address the issue of explaining it to her stepmother. She wasn't particularly concerned about it one way or another.
Kennedy rolled her eyes. "Please. He's in Hong Kong for at least another month anyway. He'll get over it between now and then."
Constance didn't even try to refute that. "I'm afraid this Potential Slayer business is going to your head, Kennedy." That was a generous statement; it had gone to her head a long time ago. "You can't keep doing things like this--which is why I've taken the liberty of getting you admitted to a new school. And I should say, you're lucky I found a place willing to take you on, given the record you're beginning to accumulate."
"You make it sound like I'm some kind of serial expellee," Kennedy muttered, but accepted it with a matter-of-fact nod. "Where is it this time?"
"Maryland."
"Oooh. Crab country."
"Kennedy, be serious," Constance admonished. "I did some very extensive research on Fandom High, and I think it may be uniquely suited to your, ah, situation."
"What, is everybody there gay?" She quickly dropped that line of wisecracking at the Look (patent pending) she got. "Okay, okay. Why's it so special?"
"They're willing to take problem students," Constance said dryly.
"Whoa, hey, back up!" Kennedy exclaimed. "You're sending me to reform school?"
"No," Constance said with entirely due emphasis. "If you would ever let me finish before plowing on ahead... Now, as I've said, I did extensive research. Things you aren't likely to find in the school's standard brochure. Fandom is no stranger to, shall we say, incursions of the supernatural variety. They've even got an informal sort of defense reserve among the students. Your status as a Potential Slayer may not have to be as heavily guarded a secret there especially if, as I'm concerned is the case, you continue with this trend of jeopardizing the secrecy of it."
Kennedy rolled her eyes again; that was an exaggeration. But then again, uptight British Watcher.
"And really," Constance continued, "if we can't curb your tendency toward exuberant expressions of aggression, you may at least be able to put them to good use there."
Kennedy's eyes lit up. "You mean I might actually get to kill things? Sweet! I'll go pack. Right now."
She was halfway out of the drawing room on her way up to her rooms in the next second, but she still heard Constance's exasperated sigh. "I ought to have known you would latch on to that bit."
[OOC: NFI and NFB, of course, OOC perfectly acceptable and happily dipped in chocolate fondue.]
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Date: 2009-08-28 08:00 am (UTC)*offers chocolate everything*