A/N - I went to boarding school so I'm kind of ridic excited to be writing this prompt. Harry/Marcone, but it's probably going to take forever to get there. D:
I don't give a rat's butt what the Council told you. I ended up going to the Steinway Academy of Arts & Sciences because I got stuck hanging rear-first from a bathroom window at Family Court, and the only person around to pull me out happened to be the judge on my case.
That's my story, and I'm sticking to it unless someone's got video evidence, which I know for a fact they don't.
But we'll get to that later.
Apparently it's easy to get stuck in a sliding window when you're six feet and counting, no matter how many ribs you've got showing.
The sill was cutting into my stomach and my satchel was still hooked to the dial on the steam radiator, half under me; I made a grab for it, missed by an inch. I remember thinking if I'd had a finger or two growing out my navel, the angle would've been just right. I remember immediately taking it back, too, because the way my life had been going, I'd have ended up with that finger, yeah--and a parasite demon fetus attached to it.
All right. Think.
When I locked my legs straight, I could just barely touch pavement. Pushing off the ground and back into the bathroom was out of the question. And with the window's edge a dead weight across my spine, slithering out was equally unlikely.
Any moment now the social worker from CPS was bound to send in the cavalry after me. Heck, she probably wouldn't even bother drafting a guy, just march in herself with my case folder rolled up in one hand like she was going to smack me on the nose with my previous sins. When it came to child development, Ms. Gard was more chalk and ruler than cookies and playtime. Considering how thick that file was, I couldn't say as I blamed her.
All of which meant I was still me: a delinquent, a giant, and stuck.
I tried a few experimental kicks, wincing when my heel struck metal with a boom. Dumpster, probably. They tended to use alleys for that. Among other things.
I shut my eyes tight, thought my way inside. Sometimes I could just manage to grab the end of it, a thin silver cord that was coiled loose in a place I thought of as my chest, my heart, only--sideways.
Sometimes I couldn't find it. Unjam, I thought at the window. Unjam unjam unjam--
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A First-Class Education (1/?)
(Anonymous) 2011-02-25 10:06 pm (UTC)(link)I don't give a rat's butt what the Council told you. I ended up going to the Steinway Academy of Arts & Sciences because I got stuck hanging rear-first from a bathroom window at Family Court, and the only person around to pull me out happened to be the judge on my case.
That's my story, and I'm sticking to it unless someone's got video evidence, which I know for a fact they don't.
But we'll get to that later.
Apparently it's easy to get stuck in a sliding window when you're six feet and counting, no matter how many ribs you've got showing.
The sill was cutting into my stomach and my satchel was still hooked to the dial on the steam radiator, half under me; I made a grab for it, missed by an inch. I remember thinking if I'd had a finger or two growing out my navel, the angle would've been just right. I remember immediately taking it back, too, because the way my life had been going, I'd have ended up with that finger, yeah--and a parasite demon fetus attached to it.
All right. Think.
When I locked my legs straight, I could just barely touch pavement. Pushing off the ground and back into the bathroom was out of the question. And with the window's edge a dead weight across my spine, slithering out was equally unlikely.
Any moment now the social worker from CPS was bound to send in the cavalry after me. Heck, she probably wouldn't even bother drafting a guy, just march in herself with my case folder rolled up in one hand like she was going to smack me on the nose with my previous sins. When it came to child development, Ms. Gard was more chalk and ruler than cookies and playtime. Considering how thick that file was, I couldn't say as I blamed her.
All of which meant I was still me: a delinquent, a giant, and stuck.
I tried a few experimental kicks, wincing when my heel struck metal with a boom. Dumpster, probably. They tended to use alleys for that. Among other things.
I shut my eyes tight, thought my way inside. Sometimes I could just manage to grab the end of it, a thin silver cord that was coiled loose in a place I thought of as my chest, my heart, only--sideways.
Sometimes I couldn't find it. Unjam, I thought at the window. Unjam unjam unjam--
"Going somewhere, hoss?"
I froze.
OP here
(Anonymous) 2011-02-25 11:09 pm (UTC)(link)of course Harry gets stuck in a window
Thank you so much for writing this! can't wait for the next part :D
Re: A First-Class Education (1/?)
(Anonymous) 2011-02-26 03:09 am (UTC)(link)Re: A First-Class Education (1/?)
(Ebbbbbb!)
Re: A First-Class Education (1/?)
(Anonymous) 2011-02-26 03:53 am (UTC)(link)Re: A First-Class Education (1/?)
Fantastic beginning!