#Red comes to school when noones there to interview his new teacher

[hedwigstalons]

High Expectations - Ch18

Short fic?  Really?  How the hell have we reached chapter 18 already?  

@willow-salix has been a huge support all the way through.  She wields the red pen mightily

Earlier parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, Seventeen

AO3 chapter link

Chapter Eighteen

John closed the apartment door and basked in the silence.  The last few weeks had been awful but the last few days had been hellish.  If you had asked him two days ago what had been the hardest part of this summer he would have answered without hesitation his thesis defence interview, not because he had any difficulty with his project but because, even after 4 years at Harvard some of the faculty still struggled with his presence.  

He had bounced onto the quad aged sixteen, looking more like twelve, and instantly made a name for himself by criticising the work of one of the more well respected professors on campus.  It probably hadn’t helped that he had been right.  Since then he had been dogged by whispers of ‘Daddy’s money’ or heckled as an android freak as he eschewed the company of the peers that would never truly be peers due to the gaps in both age and intellect.  University had been a bittersweet mix of unbridled access to learning mixed with a social web to navigate that made high school look like an insignificant warm up.  The culmination of it all had been his thesis defence in front of a panel who didn’t know whether to be intimidated by him or offer him a cookie for being a good boy.  Still, he was walking away from it all, with dual honours and a postgraduate distinction, at an age not dissimilar from those just starting their higher education journey.

The troubles and torments of university, however, had nothing on the hell on Earth that was Boston airport for an extended period of time. He could now categorically say that this had been the worst part of the summer.  The route between east and west coast seemed to be plagued by delays but this, his final time of making the journey, had topped the lot.  Being held up for an unspecified period of time in an airport lounge had brought out the worst in humanity and after a delay that had pushed past 36 hours in the end he would be quite happy to never see another human ever again.  With the apartment door firmly shut on the outside world he fully intended to recharge and bask in the solitude before Alan got home from school.

He padded up the hallway to deposit the travel bag containing a few meagre essentials in his room but never made it that far.

The apartment might have been silent but it wasn’t empty.  His room was next to Alan’s and through the open door he could see that self same teenager sat cross legged on the bed, head set on, controller in hand and eyes glued to the screen that flashed with neon laser cannons and moved at a dizzying pace.  Part of him wanted to tiptoe on past, pretend he hadn’t spotted his younger brother, and collapse onto his own bed.  John could have sworn that he hadn’t done anything that could penetrate the teenager’s electronic cocoon but before he had crossed the doorway Alan’s head whipped round and fixed him with an intense blue stare.

Alan paused the game, dropped the controller next to him and slid off the headset.  He continued to stare in a way that he could see was making his older brother uncomfortable, holding the eye contact that always made John squirm a little, but at this point he didn’t care.

The weeks before Gordon’s departure had been busy.  With a fixed deadline firmly etched on the calendar Jeff had ramped up the pressure on Gordon to gain his pilot’s licence and all the myriad of special endorsements he would need beyond the basics in order to complete a cross-continental journey solo.  Alan wasn’t quite sure why such a high rated licence was necessary but he had appreciated all the extra time at the airfield it necessitated.  Almost every weekend had been spent there so that Gordon could get in the required practice and he had always tagged along, partly to spend more time with Gordon and partly in the hope of getting a lesson himself; it turned out flying was something he had a flair for and he relished those precious moments in the cockpit.  But then Gordon had gained his licence and the lessons had dried up.  Time in the sky went from being a priority to something his father was too busy to provide.  It rankled that he wasn’t worth the effort. 

And then the dreaded day had come.  The day he lost the brother he was closest to to the military might of WASP.  He’d probably come across as petulant and moody, his goodbyes stilted and brief, but the sullen exterior had been his armour protecting him from breaking as something inside him died.  He hadn’t even been able to go with Gordon on the trip up the coast as had been the original plan.  A last minute change had seen their father disappear off on some mysterious overseas errand, leaving Virgil to play taxi service to the WASP to be.  He had begged to go too but unfortunately for him the start date for Gordon had coincided with Scott having some leave and Virgil was staying up north to indulge in some oldest brother bonding time.  So he had been left behind, alone in the apartment, with the promise that John would have arrived by morning. 

Morning had dawned but the promised sibling hadn’t appeared.  The logical side of him knew there would be a perfectly rational explanation for John’s delay but the emotional side of him just added it to the heap of rejection he was feeling.  No one gave a damn about him.  Noone cared what he was doing.  He’d turned right around and headed back into his room to kill zombies.  When the second morning dawned and he was still alone the only difference it made was that the zombies were replaced by asteroids.  

John was pinned uncomfortably by the stare.  Everything about Alan screamed out that he was issuing a challenge, daring John to pass comment.  If he had ignored John’s presence he probably would have been left alone but John was a Tracy too and as with all Tracys he never could resist a challenge. 

“No school today?” he queried, one eyebrow raised in preemptive skepticism.

“Does it look like it?”

“What it looks like is you playing video games on a Tuesday in term time.  The news didn’t mention any schools being flattened by freak hurricanes so why are you here?”

Alan just shrugged and went to pick up his controller again.

“Alan!” 

“What?!  It’s not like there’s any point me being there.”

“There is always a point to school.”

“Yeah?  Well I’m not learning anything there, the stuff they set is just insulting.”

This was one point John could empathise with, boredom in the classroom was a familiar feeling to him.  He felt lucky that he had met forward thinking teachers early on in his school career.  Teachers that had put the effort in to find out his level rather than being happy to have a coasting child in the class that didn’t need their assistance.  The result had seen him progressing through grade school at a pace that, while it still felt slow to him, at least meant he wasn’t inflicted with the full, tortuous twelve years.  Alan on the other hand had been forced to stay firmly in his age grade. 

“What about your friends, surely you’re bored here without them?”

That just earned him an eye roll.

“Can we just skip the questions and head straight to the part where you lecture me.”

“Would it make a difference?  I’m not Dad but you do realise he is going to be majorly pissed when he finds out, don’t you?”

“He’ll only find out if you tell him.”

“You think he won’t find out from school?”

Alan just sighed.

“Seriously Johnny, Gordon and I got all comms from school diverted directly to us years ago.  I’ve already responded to their email.”

“You and Gordon did that?” He was secretly a little impressed that his brothers had found a way to bypass the school systems although he was concerned that their father had seemingly never noticed.

“Well, okay, I did that.  Gordon’s not so hot on the technical stuff but it was his idea.  Dad’s never been that great at dealing with letters and permission slips so I just got in through a school admin account and updated the contact details.  If it’s not a report card he isn’t interested.”

John decided not to pass comment on the low level hacking his baby brother had pulled off.  Instead he picked his way across the minefield that was Alan’s floor to join his little brother on the bed.  The mattress felt deliciously soft compared to the plastic seat upon which he had been forced to spend the night and he felt his bones sigh in relief.  His own bed was still calling out to him but his big brother instincts were screaming at him to fix things, even if he wasn’t entirely sure what he needed to fix.  The screaming won.  He leaned across to grab a second controller off the cluttered bedside unit and synced it into the game.

“So, what’re we playing?  I don’t recognise this one but then there wasn’t much time for gaming at Harvard.”

Alan looked bemused by the turn of events.  Scott held an authority that demanded respect, Virgil would take a softer and more caring approach, Gordon provided a mix of straight talking and fun whereas their father subscribed to the school of parenting that was mostly indifferent until an indiscretion was unearthed.  John was still a bit of an unknown entity, he’d never taken on the role of authority figure for Alan and he couldn’t work out his brother’s strategy.  

  “Uh, it’s something I made myself.”  Alan disconnected his headset and the background music of the pause screen sounded out harshly in the otherwise quiet apartment eliciting an involuntary wince from John.  He guiltily turned the volume down to a more comfortable level before resuming play.

They sat side by side in silence for a few minutes, blasting asteroids and navigating their way through a fast moving debris field.  The game concept appeared simple and John wondered why Alan had done it; it wasn’t like he couldn’t afford to stock up on the commercially available games.

“Games design is a new one for you, this a school project or something?”

John sensed the eye roll even without taking his own eyes off the screen.

“Hardly.  School sucks.”

“So, why make the game?”

“It’s not about the game.  I wanted to see if I could model a debris field.  Thought if I could get it right it could be good training, you know, before astronaut school.”  

“I think you’ll find Tracy College already has their own simulators.  How do you even know this is accurate.”  Alan had made no secret about his desire to head into space and it looked like that was still the life plan.  Part of John hoped the game wasn’t accurate, the objects were flying in thick and fast and he was struggling to react in time to find a clear path for his craft and guide it through.  Alan, on the other hand, was having no such difficulties; his movements were lightening fast and the game seemed to hold no challenge for him.

“Borrowed your books.”  Alan set his own controller down as John’s ship took a direct hit and exploded in a mass of technicolour pixels that ended the game.  He stretched out and plucked a weighty tome off the edge of his desk.

“Borrowed?  I don’t remember you asking.”  John recognised the volume as one of the few undergraduate text books he had investing in the hard copy of.  Slips of coloured paper stuck out at intervals and the pages were rather more worn and well thumbed than he remembered.  

Alan pointedly ignored the question and instead flipped through to the relevant pages.  

“I’m not sure if I got this bit right though.  I struggled to combine the effect of an explosion induced debris field interacting with a meteor shower.”

However John had been expecting his talk to go with Alan, it hadn’t been like this.  He soon found himself drawn into an animated discussion of the core principles of astrophysics and how material behaved in a vacuum.  Alan’s grasp of the subject, considering he was entirely self taught, surprised the elder Tracy.  On his rare visits home Alan had always pestered him to go star gazing or asked him his thoughts on the latest developments in astronaut training but he’d had no idea that Alan’s interest had extended into him seemingly attempting to study most of the first year of his Harvard course from home.  No wonder the kid was bored at school.  

When Jeff returned later that night it was to find the two boys deeply engrossed in some project or other.  Books and piles of scribbled notes lay scattered around them and John’s fingers danced through lines of holographic code as he pointed out some facet or other to the younger boy who seemed to hang on his every word.  He assumed John was helping Alan with his homework and thought no more of it as he settled down to his own evening. 

xoxoxox

“Mr Tracy, a Miss West is on the line for you.”

Jeff frowned at the unexpected intrusion from his personal assistant.  “Miss West?”  He couldn’t place the name.

“She says she is calling from the High School, Sir”

“Put her through then.”  He paused a moment until the slight click indicating a change in caller reached his ears.  

“Mr Tracy?  I’m Sarah West, Alan’s home room teacher.”  The woman on the other end of the call sounded slightly nervous and with good reason, the Tracy reputation was formidable and seeing Alan’s name on her class list when he had joined the school had led to rounds of commiserations in the faculty lounge.

“Miss West, what can I do for you?”  He tried to keep the puzzlement out of his voice.  The last time he had received a call from the school, or any kind of communication now he came to think about it, had been over Gordon’s suspension.  He hoped he was not in for a repeat of that embarrassing incident.

“I just wanted to check on how Alan was doing.  The class are all missing him and hope he is able to return to school soon.”

Jeff understood the words being spoken but the actual sentiments made no sense.  As far as he was concerned Alan was at school at that very moment.  He kept his voice carefully neutral.

“I thank you for your concern Miss West.  I will certainly pass on your regards when I see Alan this evening.”

“Thank you Mr Tracy.  Please accept my best wishes for you and all your family, it can be so hard when these things happen.  Please keep me informed of his progress through the parent portal and once Alan is well enough to come back we will look at putting a catch up and transition programme in place for him.  Alan is a bright boy and I have every confidence that he will be able to catch up with these missed weeks.”

“Thank you Miss West.  I will of course keep you informed.  Now if you will excuse me.”

“Of course Mr Tracy, goodbye.”

“Goodbye Miss West.”

Missed weeks.  The words rang out in his head, causing him to rub his temples.  Trouble at school had always been Gordon’s domain, he’d been gone for months but still his influence was being felt.  Alan had always taken after John until now; good grades, generally studious and with a passion for space. Whatever was going on Jeff knew he needed to nip it in the bud.  Pausing only to inform his PA that he would be heading out for lunch and might not return that day Jeff headed back to the apartment.

Jeff found Alan in his room, engrossed in some project or other.  He rapped smartly on the doorframe, breaking the teen’s concentration and causing him to look round in surprise.  The look Jeff was treated to wasn’t one of fear or remorse though and there was certainly no sign of guilt at being caught where he shouldn’t.

“Alan, my study.  Now!”  He strode off down the hallway without waiting for a response.

Alan sighed and followed, knowing that to ignore a direct command would be foolish.  By the time he reached the study Jeff was already behind the desk in his customary position for dispensing judgement, a situation Alan had rarely been in but had certainly heard about often enough from Gordon.  He was more than a little intimidated at the prospect of what was to come but he tried not to let it show as he stood there, ramrod straight, waiting for his father to make the opening move.

“So Alan, I had an interesting call from Miss West today.  Explain yourself”  

The words caused Alan’s stomach to drop, there was no way he could pass today off as an isolated incident now.  He had been signing off on his absences via the parent portal but if his teacher had actually called up then it was likely his father knew everything.  Not knowing what to do for the best he opted to say nothing.  The silence stretched out uncomfortably as he felt himself being appraised by eyes as hard as flint.

“I see.  Let’s keep this simple.  How long have you been skipping school for?”

“Since the beginning of the semester.”  There was no point lying about it now.  After his few days of indiscretion when Gordon first headed off to WASP John had made sure he went off to school each day.  At the end of the summer holidays though, with John and Virgil departed for Tracy College, there was no one to force the issue.  September had arrived and with it the start of a new school year but among the faces arriving for a fresh round of learning Alan’s had been notably absent.

“Why?  Your teacher seems to be under the impression you are unwell.  Are you unwell?”  The skeptical lilt to the voice and raised eyebrow would have made even John proud.

“No.”

“So why are you risking failing high school?” 

“Failing it?”  Alan snorted  “School’s boring.  I’d be able to get my diploma now if they’d just stick me in the right classes, then I could be done with the place.”

“And what makes you think you could complete your diploma now if you won’t attend class” 

“John did.”  Alan’s chin jutted out in defiance and Jeff was given a sudden and uncomfortable reminder of another son who had found school far too easy.  The arguments may have had a different focus but Alan wouldn't be the first Tracy to have found the system too limiting, the difference being that John had been fast tracked before the boredom got too much.  “I’m not learning anything at school.  It’s not like I’m just flunking out though, John’s been sending me some stuff through that’s far more interesting.”

“That’s as maybe but did John tell you to just ditch classes?  I seem to remember him maintaining an exemplary attendance record”

For the first time Alan felt a wave of guilt, the weight of it causing him to bow his head in shame.  John may have agreed with him that the school work he was being set was far too easy and been coaching him on more challenging topics to feed his thirst for knowledge on all things astronomical, but his brother would never have condoned him skipping class.  He was not going to let John take any of the blame for his choices.

“No, Sir.”  

“I see.”

Alan wasn’t quite sure what it was his father saw as he stood there being appraised like some interesting specimen.  There was another drawn out silence.  He could almost hear his father’s thoughts as he considered his next move.

“Show me.”  Alan’s head jerked up in confusion.  “Persuade me.  A key skill you would learn in school, if you were there, is how to present a well balanced and constructed argument.  Prove your case.  I’ll be here waiting.”

Alan had been expecting some sort of reprimand, either a bawling out or a quietly pronounced punishment.  So far he had received neither and he was feeling a little on the back foot but then his father had a flair for the unexpected, it’s what made him a formidable adversary in the boardroom.  He retreated to his room to think upon the challenge.  He wasn’t sure what he wanted to prove, didn’t have a clue what his argument was or what he wanted to achieve but he knew he had better come up with a plan fast.  It felt like he was being offered a lifeline of some sort but a lifeline that had the potential to cut you down if grasped in the wrong way.

He retreated into his room and sat down at the desk, the detritus of his latest project from John scattered in front of him where he had abandoned it at his father’s command.  What did he want?  He knew he didn’t want to go back into that hell-pit high school, each day of drudgery just sapped the life out of him, but how could he prove to his father that school was only holding him back?  He gazed unseeingly as the scribbled formulae he had been working on, all the time conscious that his father wouldn’t wait forever.

Those same formulae presented him with his answer.  His father had always been focussed on results, getting the most efficient return on his investment and abhorred anything he viewed as a waste of time.  Alan knew that if he could prove beyond doubt that attending school was just wasting precious learning time then he might never have to go back.  He started gathering together the work he had been doing for John as evidence that he really didn’t need to sit through another hour of basic trigonometry when he was already able to apply it to complex problems.  

Jeff sat back and waited.  He couldn’t predict Alan’s next move but then he realised he didn’t really know Alan at all.  All the way through the young boy’s life his care had fallen to others.  Others had formed him and moulded him and evidently turned Alan into someone capable of missing several weeks of school under his nose without him realising.  Those influences had all been evident during their short exchange.  He had witnessed Gordon’s defiance and determination, John’s intellect and Virgil’s sense of justice.  Even traces of Scott were evident in the set of Alan’s jaw and the way he held his shoulders despite Scott only really being present for half of Alan’s short life.  How telling that a brother absent some eight years held more influence than he did as father.  If there was one thing common to all his sons though it was the ability to rise to a challenge; the afternoon had the potential to be surprising.

Jeff never made it back to the office.  He couldn’t remember the last time he had had a meaningful and in depth discussion with his youngest son.  His conversations with Alan were normally limited to a few perfunctory exchanges in the evening and maybe a goodbye if Alan was up before he headed to the office.  Over the course of the afternoon he got more insights into Alan than any mere report card could give.  For a start those bland documents could only show that Alan had met the maximum expected standard for his class, behind the lists of grades his son’s true abilities had been hidden.  

Alan might have been skipping school but he hadn’t been squandering his time.  Jeff was treated to comparisons of the high school math curriculum compared to the problems John had been setting, ostensibly as a way of Alan bolstering a future college application as the middle Tracy had been unaware that the youngest had abandoned his traditional studies completely.  Physics, coding and a raft of other topics handy for the modern astronaut similarly followed and it became clear that Alan was willing to put the effort in on the topics that interested him. 

Once Alan had finished lambasting the Californian education system he turned hopeful eyes on his father.

“So, can I quit?” 

If there was one thing that Jeff agreed on it was that the current curriculum being inflicted on Alan was uninspiring and certainly not challenging for the youngster.  He was also conscious that his lawyers had not managed to secure the removal of their family tragedy from the text books in time for this academic year and therefore Alan would be subjected to the same ordeal as Gordon in just a few short months time if he stayed in the classroom.   However, he also knew that without a high school diploma Alan would be unlikely to be able to access the higher education he needed to turn his dreams of space into a reality; he knew this from his own path to the stars.

“No.”   

“But Dad…” 

“No Alan, I will not have any son of mine walking away from education without a high school diploma.  If you are at all serious about becoming an astronaut then you need to play by the rules, without a diploma you would be ineligible for any of the space programmes out there.”  

Jeff watched the disappointment flood his son’s features and wondered if Alan had really been paying attention to his words and whether he would spot the loophole in his pronouncement.  He waited as Alan put together his next move, he could almost see the thoughts as they played out.  Alan always had been the son to wear his emotions closest to the surface.

“I just have to get my diploma, right?”  There was a hesitancy as a glimmer of hope was seized on.

“That’s right.”

“But there are other ways of getting my diploma, not just in school.  Right?”  

“Potentially.  So what do you want to do?”

“Can I...can I do homeschool?  I’m sure we’ve got everything I need to join an online programme and then just get it done.”

Jeff paused as though contemplating the request.  Really, having Alan homeschooled would be better for both of them; Alan could learn at his own pace and he would find it easier to have oversight of his son’s progress and commitment.  

“You have until the end of the week to find a suitable programme otherwise I will march you straight back to the classroom myself on Monday morning.  I know you don’t see the point of half the subjects you have to take but they are important, your diploma is important, even if it’s only as a paper steppingstone to better things.”  Jeff found himself on the receiving end of one of Alan’s grins and realised sadly that he hadn’t seen one of those since their last flying lesson.  “Now, don’t you have some research to do?”

Alan took the hint and headed out of the study with far more bounce than he’d had when entering it.  Jeff had no concerns about delegating the task to his son, the similarities to John had been clear to see and he had every faith that Alan would find a suitable programme within the allotted time frame.  The fact that the change to homeschooling came with the added bonus of one less loose end to tie up when the time came to relocate was not lost on him.

[reddie-fangirl24]

Eddie, The Patient Chapter 3     (A Reddie Fanfiction)

Link to Chapter 1

Link to Chapter 2

“It’s an improv line ‘cause the first time I ever used ‘I forgot the joke’ well, you see, I actually forgot the joke and to save myself I said that I was kidding and kept going with my routine! Some audience members gave me a hard time, but it turns out that I fooled them and then they actually wrote to me apologizing!”

“That’s a funny story, Mr. Tozier,” the host laughed with him. Then she turned and looked into the camera. “We’re going to take a break now, ladies and gentlemen. We’ll be back with a Day in the Life of Comedians.”

Standing up, and taking a breath, Richie stepped away from the set. No matter what, all those studio lights felt like a thousand degrees! Richie shook hands with his contender, Jack. Tonight they’d be battling off left and right with jokes. And this show interview they were filming would air in a week or so.

“Great job, Rich!” His manager, Steve gave him a pat on the back. “Except, I thought we were talking about not bringing that story up.”

Richie rolled his eyes. “So, what’s it gonna do? I’m just trying to show the real me!”

“Yes, and I agree, but I’m afraid that sharing the ‘I forgot the joke’ story could mean that you stumble your routines. You want big audiences out there don’t you, Rich?”

“Steve, just let me handle things, please? Remember what I said? And writing some of my own material has been working!” Richie walked off in a huff. Grabbing a glass of water that a stagehand offered to him, Richie walked outside for some needed air, and to wipe to the sweat off.

Ever since he told his boss that he was going to start writing his own material for shows, he felt as if his career was going in a better direction than it ever was. Eddie was right. He just needed that extra ounce of confidence that he lost. 

Thinking ahead to tonight, the crowd was still building up. Not only was he doing the comedy show with Jack, but another comedian who has been all around the world with her act. And she even called out Richie once! Oh, time for some good old revenge burn.

Feeling his phone buzzing in his pocket, Richie could only guess that it was Steve calling him back to rehearsal. Couldn’t he get a moment’s peace?

But it wasn’t Steve.

No name. Just numbers. But it was coming from right here in L.A.

Gulping, Richie flashed back to the moment where he got the call from Mike Hanlon. The call that changed his life making him step back into the nightmare from his childhood. Then again, he had to admit, that the battle changed everything for the better. 

Feeling his heart pounding, and his stomach nervously grumbled from his nerves, Richie took a deep breath. This always happened to him when a wrong number called. If it was a wrong number. 

Taking a deep breath, Richie answered the call. “H-Hello?”

“Hello, is this Mr. Richard Tozier?” A woman asked him. 

What was this, a prank call? Nobody ever called him by his full name. “Uh, yeah, Richie ‘Trashmouth’ Tozier at your service!” Richie went with his usual intro to break some of his lingering nerves.

“Yes, hello, this is Ruth Alliston, the principal of Hathaway Middle School,” the woman’s voice said. “I’m calling to inform you that your husband is sick and I was wondering if you could come and take him home. I tried calling a couple of your mutual friends, but I couldn’t get a hold of them.”

His heart throbbing, Richie grasped the railing holding himself up. He accidentally knocked the glass of water off the railing, sending it smashing to the ground. Not once since Eddie started his teaching job did they ever call him for something like this. Did he just hear her right? Eddie. His Eddie? Sick? 

“Wait, wait, hold on! What do you mean you called other mutuals? You’re supposed to call me first, damn it!” Richie snapped at her, clutching at his phone.

The woman sighed, obviously sounding frazzled. “I’m sorry, Mr. Tozier, but Eddie gave my specific instruction not to call you. Once I couldn’t get a hold of um,” she paused, turning pages. “Mr. and Mrs. Denbrough I knew that I had no choice but to call you. Oh, he’s very sick with a fever of over one hundred and needs to be taken home.”

Clawing at his hair, Richie mumbled to himself pacing the fire escape. Why was he always out here when got news like this? Of course. Of course, Eddie had to act like he was fine. You should have said something, man! “Um, yeah, you got it. I’ll be there.”

“Oh, wonderful, thank you, sir.” Mrs. Alliston sounded relieved. “Not to worry, he’s asleep right now. The worst seems to have passed.”

The worst? “Thanks, see you later,” Richie said as smoothly as he could. Hanging up the phone, Richie hurried back inside. Goddamn it, Eddie! Of course, you had to act like you were fine! You should have said something, man!

“Rich, where have you been? We’re going to start up again in five minutes!” Steve chewed him out, placing a hand on his shoulder, as he tried to keep up with Richie’s fast pace.

“Steve, I have to go!” Richie protested, hurriedly walking to the elevator.

“Go? Go where? We’re in the middle of taping an interview!” Steve argued with him, gesturing to the set. Jack overheard the situation and turned and looked at them in worry.

“It’s an emergency!” Richie said, pressing the elevator button furiously. 

“Can you tell me? Are we going to have to reschedule everything?” Steve prodded him.

Richie nodded feverishly, watching the floor numbers change. Why were elevators so slow when you needed them? “Yeah, let’s do that. I need to get over to Hathaway Middle School now! Eddie is sick!”

For a moment, Steve didn’t say anything. He noticed that Steve wasn’t that fond of Eddie whenever he was around. Still, he did his best to make polite conversation. “Right. How are you going to get over there? Barry is not available for the rest of the morning.”

Shit! How else was he supposed to get over to the school? It would take at least an hour on foot. And he had to figure out a way to get Eddie home without making him sicker. 

“Can I call you a taxi?” Steve suggested.

Of course! He felt so out of it that he couldn’t think straight. That was when the elevator door opened. “Yeah, thanks!” Richie smiled, despite himself, as he entered the crowded elevator. Ugh, somebody had stinky pits today.

“Rich, call me with an update! You should be back here by 5:00 tonight!” Steve called out to him just as the elevator doors closed. 

Waiting out by the curb and listening to the busy traffic, Richie took a moment to breathe and get his thoughts together. How could he let something like this happen? Besides the distraction with the car, did he really let the excitement of work get in the way? That was so stupid of him! Eddie was way more important! 

He knew something wasn’t right about Eddie’s behavior, but what did he do? Drive off. How could he ever ignore him like that? How could he... forget to think about Eddie? No wonder Eddie was acting so strangely. The uneaten bowl of cereal, barely saying a word and struggling to do a simple task like walking.

Smiling, Richie couldn’t help but laugh at the irony. Eddie had always been an extreme germaphobe. Back when they were students, Eddie washed down every desk before sitting in them during the flu season.

Richie even reminded him about kids getting sick easily when he was studying to become a teacher. Eddie rubbed it off like it was nothing, saying that he was full of bologna. After the first three weeks of teaching, Eddie was complaining about the number of students who were sick with colds. It was funny. But, not now.

He was just hoping that this wasn’t too serious. Whenever Eddie was sick, or he himself, they’d snuggle together. Eddie was always so doting, dropping everything to take care of him. That was the best. He could only guess how much of a helicopter husband he must have been when Eddie had the slightest cold. It was out of love anyway.

In that instant, Richie felt a sting in his gut, realizing how little time they’d spent together as of recently. When was the last time they took a walk around the neighborhood? Or went out for a drink? Or even just stayed inside watching TV? It felt like the only time they ever spent together was cuddling up when they went to bed at night. Only they were asleep. 

Whenever he had nights off, they went to the movies. Sometimes they were the loudest in the theater because they loved to laugh and argue over their own commentary of the film.

And to think we used to spend a few times a week making love... when was the last time we did that?!

It was tough working around his schedule. He worked at night while Eddie worked during the day. Even weekends didn’t supply them with enough time together. Now, he felt lucky that he wasn’t away on a trip. Then what would have happened? 

Richie slid a hand over his face, looking up towards the peaceful sky. To think it wasn’t even noon. Oh well, there was no used dwelling over it all now. Eddie needed him.

Finally, the taxi pulled up and Richie got into the back seat in a hurry.

“Well, I’ll be damned!” The cab driver roared with a smile. His little mustache creased along his upper lip whenever he smiled. “I never thought I’d be hauling Richie Tozier in the back of my taxi! I have to get a picture and frame it!”

“Yeah, later, man! I need to get over to Hathaway Middle school, now!” Richie ordered, waving him off.

“Sure, do the kids want your autograph?” The driver pulled out into the road. Traffic was bad already. Cars honking. The light turning red at the wrong moment. It was never like this. 

Richie nervously sat forward, thumping his hand on the seat, unable to relax. “I wish! It’s my h-husband, Eddie. He’s sick. And guess whose car decided to that it didn’t wanna work properly today? Did you guess me? Good for you, you won a ride with me!” Richie joked, pointing at himself.

Of course, he had to stumble over that word. He still wasn’t used to being out to the public, having ignored and feared to be gay for decades. His announcement had some negative feedback, but he felt happier than he ever did before. Especially with Eddie.

“Oh man, poor guy. The flu is terrible at this time of year. You’re a good husband, you know that?” The cab driver complimented turning back to look at him. “I remember when I showed up to work sick once, I worked in an auto place, and then my wife showed up telling me, ‘I told you so!’”

Richie laughed along, half embarrassed. He took a deep breath through his nose. “Yeah, I’m the man, what can I say?”

The cab driver laughed heartily. “I’ll have you over to the school as soon as I can.”

While making small conversation and jokes with the cab driver, whose name was Harry, the ride felt long. Too long.  Why were there so many red lights today? And did people forget how to cross the street? Richie wanted to beep the horn to get this guy who was staring at his cell phone to pay attention.

Guilt hammered itself into Richie’s heart. Looking out at the passing city, Richie tried to take his mind off everything, to no avail. Don’t worry, Eds, I’m on my way.

And finally, the cab showed up at the school. Before the car even stopped, Richie threw open the door, running out. “Hey, thanks, sorry for being impatient. I wish I could give you that picture, but I don’t have time!”

“Do you want me to wait for you?” The cab driver asked him.

Richie blinked, turning back in his tracks. “Uh... I could be a while.”

“I’m used to waiting,” he said sincerely. “Don’t you think it’ll be tough trying to get another taxi? It’ll be the lunch run in a bit.”

That’s right! Guess he never turned his brain on this morning. “If that’s alright with you, I’ll be right back!” Richie said as he flung up the staircase to the school like a rabbit.

Entering the school, Richie hadn’t roamed school hallways since he graduated from high school. Richie cringed at the thought of being back in another middle school. If it weren’t for his friends, he would never have gotten through school. He bet his dad that he could get a career out of being a comedian without going to college. Richie was still swimming in that money.

Finding the office, the instant the secretary noticed him, she almost fell out of her seat, adjusting her eyeglasses. “Richie Tozier! I was not expecting you today! My son is a big fan!” she chirped as her cheeks grew red. 

Richie smirked, winking at her, obviously enjoying the attention. Still, he had to stay focused. “Wish I could be here for better circumstances. I need to take Eddie home.”

The secretary’s face immediately softened, cracking into a heartbreaking sad frown. “Oh, the poor guy. He looked as pale as a ghost when Mrs. Alliston brought him back here. I sure hope he is going to be okay. He is a sweetheart.”

Although his heart cracked at the awful thought of Eddie’s condition, Richie leaned against the counter trying to make the secretary smiled. “You got that right! Except when he’s cranky. Some mornings he is a real joy to wake up to because he tells me that I snore!”

Laughing, the secretary paged the principal. “Okay, I’ll send him back. Go on, Ruth is waiting for you,” she said getting up from her seat and opening the door to the main office.

Richie went on his way, winking at her again. “Thanks. Oh, and I own you an autograph!”

Walking into the back office, Richie met the principal, who stepped out from her office with a wide grin happily shaking his hand. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Tozier. Eddie has talked a lot about you.”

“Oh yeah, I hope it’s all good things!” Richie teased.

“Don’t worry. He loves talking about you. Don’t tell him I said this but sometimes the way he talks about you makes me think of him like a school girl! It’s quite amusing!”

Crossing his fingers, Richie was just seconds away from bursting into laughter. Definitely worth a save for teasing which was basically all they did. “So, where is he anyway?”

Her face turned back to worry, leading Richie down a small corridor of the office. “He’s asleep in the nurse’s office. The poor thing, when I went to put his belongings on a chair next to the bed he didn’t even stir.”

Guilt-ridden, Richie almost stumbled into a wall. “Jeez...”

“He’s in here,” she said indicating to a room with the lights out. “His belongings are on a chair next to the bed. If I’m right, the poor dear is still asleep. You’re going to have to wake him up.”

Richie waved it off like it was nothing. “Even if I tiptoe it wakes him up and he lectures me!” He snickered.

Mrs. Alliston laughed as she walked away. “Eddie is right. You are a card!”

“A real comedian, I am!” Richie joked as his hand fell on the door. He gingerly turned the knob and slowly opened the door. The room was dark, with the only source of light protruding from the covered windows. Once his eyes adjusted, it took a moment to find the bed. Once he did, Richie came across the small, thin form of his husband sleeping soundly on the nurse’s bed in the corner of the room, with a trash can pulled up near the bed. 

Feeling his heart drop into his stomach, his legs shaking, Richie exhaled and came into the room, closing the door just a smidge. Sure enough, Eddie was fast asleep, hardly making a noise. If it weren’t for the minute rise and fall from his chest, Eddie would have looked...

No... he couldn’t think that.

Richie quietly walked into the room, and slowly sat down on the bad. Eddie hardly stirred, sleeping peacefully. For a little bit, Richie sat there, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, letting him sleep a few more minutes. That gave him the time to study how sick he was. Even in this dim lighting, he could tell how sickly pale Eddie was.

For a moment he thought that he was back in the hospital, holding Eddie’s frail hand when the doctors notified them how they weren’t sure if Eddie would make it through the night. But, Eddie showed who was stronger.

Thinking back to the call, the realization that Eddie was sick and the fact that he didn’t even want to call him first Richie’s grip tightened. Richie couldn’t blame him. Eddie felt himself like he was a burden due to the years of being berated about every little thing he did. 

Oh, course he wouldn’t tell me. He thinks that vain in my head would pop!

Leaning down, Richie kissed his forehead, tasting the sweat rolling down his warm pale face. The worry and guilt set in even further, causing his grip to tighten. He had to get Eddie home now.

“And you thought I wouldn’t come help you, huh? Man, you’re crazy!” he whispered in a loud voice to his sleeping husband as he prepared to wake him up.

[lethesomething]

A note on fictional jobs

There's a joke that all fanfic characters are either baristas, teachers, lawyers or some denizen of the tattoo/florist au set. This isn't really fully true (there's also witches and vampire hunters!) but for anyone going for a realistic setting, let me at least, as someone who has worked a number of jobs in media, software development and catering, give some pointers on how that stuff works, because dear lord does Hollywood get it wrong.

This post is 2k words, so under the cut it goes.

Journalism/Photography/Media

General tips

This sector seems to be pretty popular in old school comics, and for good reason. Clark Kent gets to go out into the city and be near events. It's a job women are historically allowed to do (and be sassy in) and even Peter Parker gets to just traipse around the city getting into adventures.

It must also be noted that all these characters were developed in the first half of the 20th century, and media has changed a lot since then.

If your character is a journalist, they will work long hours and not be paid *that* much. Carrie Bradshaw is the most unrealistic journalist character in the history of everything. Especially after, oh, 2010 or so, when the traditional press sales really started declining. No journalist is that well paid for that little. And none will have that much free time.

Journalists generally have a beat, and what they do and know heavily depends on that. Your character can get into the gritty streets of downtown chasing drug dealers, or they can go to theatre premieres. They won't do both. The Vast Majority of modern media have beats. A person can be a sports caster and then he will go to sports events to report them. They can be a jetset reporter or restaurant reviewer and go to swanky places. They can be a cultural reporter and be invited to premieres and shows. They can be a dedicated business journalist, reporting on IT, or cardboard logistics, or whatever, and go to conferences around the world. But they will rarely be all these things at once.

How wide this beat is, depends heavily on the 'range' of the medium. Big news rooms, like NYTimes, have a lot of journalists, and some very, Very specialised ones. This is deep dive, spend weeks trailing every leak out of the White House stuff. In contrast, a small regional tv station can have their reporter (with or without a camera man and sound tech) drive around the countryside reporting on pumpkin carving festivals one day, and grisly murder the next.

A lot also depends on the medium. If the character works for a newspaper, they will have a noon to eight shift as a writer, and a two to ten shift, most likely, as an editor, because papers need to get printed overnight. If it's a weekly or a monthly print mag, there will be a few days with relative freedom to do interviews and such, and then a few days of crunch time. If they work for a news website they will have a desk job and most likely work in shifts. TV and radio news people are the ones doing most of the running around to get quotes, but they are also on the tightest of schedules.

Speaking of schedules. Unless the character is a blogger, they won't finish an article and immediately rush it to the printer/publish it. Reputable news sources have, at the very least, a copy editor to check for mistakes and typos. Bigger newspapers and magazines and sites have a dedicated fact checker.

Very VERY few papers in the world have full time photographers on the payroll. If your character is a photographer, they will most likely be a freelancer and do corporate events or weddings on the side (sorry Peter Parker). What happens is, a medium will decide in advance which article or interview will require a picture, and book a photographer for that piece.

Any other pictures tend to come from news agencies. Think Reuters or Associated Press. These sort of agencies do use full time photographers, as well as freelancers who happen to visit an event. They'll take like two hundred picture and sell them to the agency, who distributes them to media all over the world.

Few media have the money for correspondents, so they'll pick only a handful. This means a foreign correspondent has a large area to cover. European news media tend to have one correspondent in the US, covering the Entire US, for instance. American media tend to have more moneys, but if your character is a respondent in, say India, expect them to trek along India a lot, because they're prob the only one in that vast country.

Having said that, coverage, especially war coverage, is super expensive. If they're sending a journo to a war zone, it will absolutely not be a rookie. They will have proven themselves capable, preferably speak the language and they'll be Very Prepared. Think local guides, vast networks of informants etc. A startling amount of war reporters and investigative journalists are also freelance. If they are trekking through a jungle and come across anything exciting, you bet they'll try to sell that story in several angles/versions to different media.

Have you considered:

Bread and Butter Freelancers: It's a gig economy my friends. Freelance writey people don't have a boss and usually work from home or from some coffee shop. If they are to be successful (enough to make a living), they'll still have a beat, and will actually have to be fairly good at this subject. Since these characters make their own shifts, they do have the ability to go out in the middle of the day to do superheroing or witchery or to investigate the disappearance of their best friend. Upsides: Freedom. Downsides: Usually very little money. Unstable hours, like one day nothing and then a week of 14 hour days. The crushing stress of looming deadlines ànd job insecurity.

Copywriters: The people that write the text on corporate websites, that fill mail order catalogues with entries for every picture, compose newsletters for various organisations, turn technical instructions into actually mildly readable user manuals. Upside: money. If they're good at it, they will have a fairly stable income. They have the same freedom as freelancers to go flirt with flower shop assistants. Downside: the crushing knowledge that with every piece you write, your soul sinks deeper into the void. Anyone who's ever read clientsfromhell will know what to expect of their clientele.

Lay-outers: The creative side of making media. The bros making the graphs, putting the text to paper,  photoshoping the head of Putin onto the body of a baby, whatever. Upside: artist character. This is a slightly more realistic character than the 'painter'. They're creative, but they have yet to sell their soul to the corporate machine (depending on the medium you put them in, of course). Downside: this is basically a desk job with stable hours.

Cameraman, sound technician: the people that hang out with the news reporter and trot all over the region with him/her. Upside: see the world! Without being instantly recognizable. Downside: they're probably stuck in their mission and they rarely have the power to go 'hey, let's investigate over there'.

 Software development

General tips

There's actually a few different environments for software engineers to work.

Start-ups: the hip one. Think Silicon Valley, the upstarts in sneakers and Star Wars t-shirts living on pizza and red bull and basically coding 20 hours a day. Depending on where they are in the growth of their start-up, these people will be nearly alone, or have a team of coworkers. Traditionally, start-ups start with like a founder (or four) and an idea, and some coding. As the company grows they'll hire a sales person to sell this stuff, a marketing manager to brand it, a support person to troubleshoot it, an HR person, etc.

A very Very VERY large part of start-up business is pitching, aka selling your premise to a bunch of venture capitalists and investors. It's Dragon's Den. Literally. Your super shy, autism spectrum character who hates public speaking and who can't even look at another person without blushing would make a super crappy start-up founder by themselves. They will definitely need their bubbly, motivational speaker best friend. On the other hand: this is an amazing environment for that suave, smooth talking character who could sell sand in the desert.

Second environment: corporate. The vast majority of software engineers out there just work for some big company. These are the people building and deploying management system software for banks, installing security in factories, that sort of thing. A lot of the time they're consultants. They wear a suit. They use something called the Waterfall method, which sucks out your soul, or the Agile method, which also sucks out your soul. There's a lot of managing and meeting and progress reports. If they're good enough, they're allowed to leave the tie at home.

Software needs to be tested. You don't just write the code last minute and put it live.

The coders are absolutely not the only people in a software development team. There's the project managers, the designers, the copywriters, the testers, the lawyers, oh god, the lawyers, etc.

Software Needs to be tested. It takes ages. I cannot stress this enough. It usually happens in India or some other Asian country where the wages are lower.

Will a lot of environments, even corporate, allow their creatives to come to work in like… jeans and a t-shirt, the only people realistically allowed to actually act like teenagers, in any environment (corporate, start-up, small business), are the ones with skills that are very hard to find. In essence: security experts and specifically white hat hackers. Yes, you're allowed to have a hacker character that acts dumb and comes to work in his pyjamas and it will be realistic that he does not get fired. Your clerk character that's super rude and deals in hurtful quips? Not so much.

SOFTWARE NEEDS TO BE TESTED

 Have you considered:

Researchers: you know those people that made a song that can give Alexa commands without the owner knowing? Those are university researchers. A lot of really cool stuff is being developed not by office workers, but at universities. This includes software. Upside: probably a looser environment, with a lot of young people. Downside: you're basically writing a college AU.

Venture capitalists: in a Silicon Valley environment, this is basically the 'wealthy businessman' stereotype of old. The dragons in the dragon's den, the people that traipse around the city talking to people and assessing the potential of their pitch, before throwing money at them (or not). There's a bunch of paperwork, but they probably have a small army of accountants to handle this.

Evangelists: the cool people that hold TED talks. They usually work for a big tech company, as a specialist, and part of their job is to be a spokesperson.  A good example of this is the tech researcher, who has a day job finding nasty hackers or viruses, and who also blogs about that and holds talks and presentations about securing your business. A character like this has the advantage of being a deep tech nerd hacker type. They're rarely the CEO, so they can go deep into the coding, while also travelling places and meeting crowds of press or business people.

Project managers: these don't tend to do the actual coding, but they do, well, the managing. Characters like this will be more social and creative, they're the ones making the reports and presenting their progress to the CEO, and they're the ones troubleshooting when stuff goes wrong. In general, there's a lot of planning involved.

 Bakeries/Catering

General tips

Mass production of food is gruelling. You think you're writing about your sexy pastry chef and how they're carefully, tip of their tongue peeking through their lips, putting a cherry on top of that little moeilleux, but in reality, there's two hundred more to finish on this rack alone and they need to be done in under an hour.

Say it with me, people: baking is a night job. Industrial baking, mom-and-pop rural French bakery, bagel shop, donuts. Someone is going to be making all that stuff before the first customer arrives and that someone is slaving in front of a hot oven at four in the morning.

Any type of catering is a time management business. You know this. You've all watched Great British Bake-off (or, like, Chopped or whatever). If your professional cake maker is only working on one project/wedding at a time, they're not going to be in business for long. Your line chef will be plating up several dishes per minute. Your short order cook is baking six pancakes and scrambling eggs at the exact same time.

Unless it's a very large kitchen, the people that cook are the same ones that clean. And since it's food prep, there is a lot of cleaning.

Have you considered:

Recipe writer: ok so we're kinda back to media but big tv chefs don't make all those recipes themselves. Someone, usually a freelancer, writes them and tests them. Imagine someone getting the request to develop a seasonal cronut recipe that involves peaches and charcoal, because it's hip, and then baking several batches until they find something edible. This is a somewhat realistic environment for your super creative baker to live in a small house and make some money while also working on a book on the side, and falling in love with the quirky … goat… herd… brewer, florist, whatever.

[silverfootstepswrites]

Butterfly [1]

summary The end/the beginning

“Okay, okay, everyone quiet, please,” Tsunade called, clapping her hands together once. People settled into their chairs. Some placing their folders on their desks. Others tucking their phones into their pockets.

“I know everyone is anxious to prep for the day, so I’ll keep this meeting short.”

“Thank God,” muttered Asuma, leaning back in his seat. A few people chuckled, including the principal.

“First of all, I want to welcome everyone back. I hope that you had a chance to relax and recharge over spring vacation. It’s a brand new school year, so I hope you’ll go into it with open minds and high expectations,” Tsunade said, like she did every year. A few people nodded.

“On a sad note, Chiyo-sensei has injured her hip and will not be able to join us this semester. She’s on bed rest to recover from her surgery,” Tsunade then added. A murmur rippled around the room. Chiyo had been at the school for longer than anybody.  Although stern-faced, she always had words of wisdom to offer. Sort of like a terrifying grandmother to all the faculty.

“We’ve hired a replacement, though. I’m sure some of you will be familiar with her already.”

As if on cue, a head popped in through the door.

“Konchiwa!” she chirruped. flashing a grin.

Asuma jumped to his feet, nearly knocking his chair over.

“Ah! You!” he exclaimed, pointing. She danced into the room, reaching across the desk to bump her fist against his. They slapped their palms together. Gripping them tight for a moment.

“Sarutobi-sensei!” she said, releasing his hand.

“Haruno-kun! Wait, no. You got married, right? What’s your name now?” he asked.

Still smiling, she held up her left hand to reveal a bare ring finger.

“Just Haruno again. I got divorced last month!” she announced in the same cheerful tone.

Absolute silence answered her. Anxious eyes darting around as people tried to think of what to say. But she solved the problem by laughing.

“Anyway, I’ll be the new school librarian starting today,” Sakura declared. Teeth gleaming bright as she flashed another smile.

After Tsunade wrapped up the meeting, normally, the teachers gathered up their things. Some went to make copies before classes started. Others went to make coffee or put their lunches away in the fridge in the small kitchen tucked into the back of the staff room.

But today, everyone crowded around the new hire. Although, it was hard to call her “new” when most of them knew her quite well.

“Can’t believe you’re the replacement!” laughed Kurenai, clapping Sakura on the shoulder.

“That’s right, I was watching your interview on the television the other day. Is it true that you’re retiring?” Shizune asked.

“Alright, you’re smothering her. Give her some space,” grumbled Asuma, swatting his clipboard around. Fist on his hip, he glared around at his coworkers.

“We’ll go out for drinks tonight and you can pester her then,” he added.

“Bleh. You’re no fun, Sarutobi-sensei,” one of the teachers complained.

“Don’t make me blow my whistle at you,” Asuma threatened. It dangled around his neck from a red lanyard. And it didn’t take long for the rest of the teachers to disperse, finally getting started with their prep for the day.

Kurenai lingered, leaning against the desk. “We’ll do all the catching up tonight. For now, focus on getting settled in. Do you need help getting to the library?” she said.

Sakura shook her head. “I still remember.” Sakura tapped her temple.

“Alright. Let me know if you have any questions,” Kurenai told her. Patting the top of the desk twice.

The library was on the second floor of the school. It was at the far end of the hallway, right next to the home economics room. She remembered spending her free periods studying there, the smell of fresh cookies spilling over from the class next door.

She slid the white door open. It was empty, just as she had expected. It was too early for most students to even think about being in here. Sakura stood in the doorway, admiring the lines of shelves. There were rectangular wooden tables in the middle of the room. Matching chairs pushed in underneath them.

There was a counter by the entrance. She remembered passing her books to Chiyo-sensei over it, waiting for her to stamp the white card inside. The smell of ink clinging to the cover as she shut the book. She also recalled the Chiyo-sensei had kept an orchid on the corner of the desk. A little pop of purple in the room otherwise filled with different shades of brown.

Sakura set her bag down on the desk, flicking on all the lights. She moved to the windows. She opened up all the blinds, let the sunlight stream in. And she stood, admiring the view. Her hands on her hips, she watched the schoolyard. Students were beginning to trickle in. Some walking their bikes, others strolling through the gates with their friends.

She inhaled deep through her nose. Exhaled just as slowly.

It felt strange to be home after so long.

The gold medal was a nice weight around her neck. Sakura wore it for all the interviews and press conferences. It gleamed in all the photos, catching all the light. She smiled until her cheeks hurt. Fielding all the questions from the reporters waving their hands around. The nonstop click of the cameras almost sounded like applause everywhere she went.

“Sakura, you broke your personal best today. How does that make you feel?”

“Grateful. I feel like all the support and love I’ve received helped me get to this point,” she responded.

“Is there anyone specific you’d like to thank?”

“My coach, of course, who’s taught me everything. And my fans for always supporting me,” Sakura said. As if she hadn’t answered that one hundreds of times before.

“Sakura, what’re your plans for next year? There are rumors that you’ll be participating in the World Figure Skating Championships coming up next month.”

And Sakura paused at that. The cameras flashing made colors dance in front of her eyes. She blinked the strange shapes away.

“I won’t. This is my last competition. I’m officially retiring,” she stated.

A gasp rippled through the crowd. More flashes exploding in her vision. Hands flailing around harder to get her attention. And she could feel her coach gaping at her. Sakura stood.

“Thank you all for your questions,” she said, effectively ending the press conference. Offering one last smile and wave, she stepped off the stage. ignoring the way her coach shouted her name as she walked away.

Konoha was a city built defying common sense. Or at least, that was what Sakura had always thought biking up the side of a hill of a mountain to school each day. The ride down was much smoother. And while a lot of her classmates walked their bikes up, taking their time, Sakura was too stubborn to admit defeat. She huffed and puffed her way up each day. Sweat dripping down the back of her neck first thing in the morning. Legs growing stronger with the effort.

She remembered dashing from school as soon as the afternoon clean-up ended. Wheels of her bike spinning in mad circles as she rolled down the side of the hill. Rushing to get to the rink at the bottom of the mountain, or the studio the next town over. Her duffle bag banging against her spine as she ran up and down winding steps.

With the cherry blossoms tumbling off the trees with each gust of wind, Sakura couldn’t help but remember those days. Her ponytail whipping out behind her as she dashed madly towards a goal she couldn’t yet see.

Tsunade introduced Sakura as the new librarian during the opening ceremony. For students in the small town, the arrival of a new teacher sent a ripple of excitement through the students. But it was amplified when the students recognized her name and her pink hair. She could see them murmuring, whispering behind their hands. Eyes darting to her, bright with excitement.

After the assembly ended, Sakura found herself back in the library. In that quiet. And after years of being surrounded by noise on all sides, it was actually kind of nice.

She perused the catalogue and double-checked that the shelves in the library were properly labeled. She even ventured into the dusty back room. Opening up boxes, she found some novels that hadn’t yet been labelled and sorted. She browsed through them, crunching through a handful of cashews with her free hand as she skimmed.

The silence didn’t last for long, though. Students began to trickle in, often in giggling clusters. They whispered as they watched her from behind shelves.

Sakura pretended not to notice them as she thumbed through an old reference book. It had some good information, but it was a little outdated. Which was to be expected in a rural school like this, she supposed. She scribbled this down onto her notepad before she moved on through the inventory.

After a while, one of the students come forward with a book. Hugging it to her chest. Sakura held her hand out for it without looking up. Sakura wrote down the title and number of the book in her log. Pencil scratching across the page. She stamped the card in the inside cover.

“Make sure you return this in two weeks,” Sakura said, handing the book back over the counter.

“Um... Haruno-sensei, could I get a photo with you, please?” the girl requested. And it was only then that Sakura lifted her head.

She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Why? I’m just a librarian,” Sakura asked.

The girl squeaked out an apology. She hurried off to join her friends. And they left the library, whispering angrily to each other.

When Sakura wandered into the faculty room around noon, she found Asuma waving his arms around as he told a story.

“And so I say, ‘Akimichi, why are you eating chips on the track?’ and he goes, ‘Because I haven’t had lunch yet, Sensei’,” Asuma concluded. A few of the other teachers chuckled. When Sakura slid the door shut, they looked up at her.

“Ah. Come over here, Haruno-kun. Say hello,” Asuma said, gesturing for her. Sakura’s face lit up as she walked over.

“Hatake-sensei,” she greeted him. Kakashi shook her hand, eyes crinkling as he smiled.

“Haruno-kun. Glad to see you haven’t forgotten your old homeroom teacher,” he replied.

"I'm guessing I didn't see you in the morning because you overslept? Or you were on the roof smoking?" she conjectured. Kakashi rubbed the back of his head, eyes crinkling again.

"Both. Fell asleep on the roof. The weather's so nice, lately," he confessed. And then his eyes popped open. He pointed his thumb in the direction of the man sitting beside him.

"Ah, Haruno-kun, this is Rock Lee-sensei. He's a brand new hire this year, so you wouldn't know him," Kakashi said.

And Lee couldn't even speak at first. His eyes practically sparkling as he stared up at her. Clasping his hands together, he fidgeted, looking a little like he might burst.

"It's a pleasure to meet you!" he finally blurted out, turning a few heads with the declaration. Sakura nodded, shaking his hand.

"What do you teach?" she asked.

"English!" Lee exclaimed. He still seemed to be having trouble adjusting the volume of his voice. Sakura smiled.

"I lived in America for a couple years. Maybe you can help me brush up on my skills so I don't get too rusty," she suggested. When she laughed, Lee did too. His nervous giggles too high-pitched to be natural. Asuma shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

The door slid open again and a few people walked in. The man at the front sighed, rolling his shoulders.

"Man, I'm beat. I hate the first few weeks with the 1st years. You have to treat them like they're babies," griped Shikamaru. He tossed his clipboard on his desk. But then he spotted Sakura, and his expression shifted. He walked over, hand held out. Instead of shaking it, Sakura slapped her open palm against his twice before they hit the backs of their hands together.

"Hey. Good to see you, Haruno," he said, grinning.

"Yeah. Good to see you too, Nara. Still can't believe you of all people became a teacher here. You were always griping about how you couldn't wait to leave," Sakura remarked, hand on her hip. Sighing, Shikamaru looked up at the ceiling.

"I can't believe it either," he griped.

They chatted for the rest of lunch break. Kurenai and some of the others joined them. Laughter filling the room as they revisited the old days. Asuma discovering Shikamaru taking a nap in the gym. The time Sakura scaled the side of the building on a dare.

"Remember that time you lifted someone over your head? That was scary," Shikamaru recalled.

"Ah, come on. He was sooo annoying," Sakura added. Kakashi shook his head.

"You guys were such a rowdy homeroom. You gave me so many grey hairs," he complained.

"Hatake-sensei, your hair has always been that color," pointed out Kurenai. They all burst into laughter at that.

After lunch, they all went their separate ways again. Sakura discovered a stack of biology textbooks hidden in the back of the book closet. She rubbed the dust off one of the covers and flipped through. They only looked to be a few years old. Gathering them up in her arms, she headed out of the library, down to the lab. Thankfully, there was no class inside when she peered through the window.

Sakura wedged her elbow into the crack in the door. Shoving it open. She stepped sideways into the lab to avoid smashing the books against the doorframe.

"Excuse me. Sensei?" she called out.

There was a light on in the tiny adjoined office. It flickered off. And then an older man in a white coat stepped through the door. His eyes widened. He rushed forward to take the books from her. Easing them onto the counter.

"Orochimaru-sensei, sorry to barge in like this," Sakura said. Orochimaru removed his reading glasses. He hadn't needed those the last time she had seen him. His expression warmed as he took her in.

"It's not a problem. How can I help you, Haruno-kun? Or, sorry. Haruno-sensei," Orochimaru corrected himself.

"I found these in storage in the library. I was thinking maybe you could use them," Sakura explained, placing her hand on the stack.

Orochimaru peered down at the pile, blinking.

"Well, I'm very thankful for this, but you should have sent some students. You carried these heavy things down the hall all by yourself?" he queried. Sakura smiled.

"I also wanted an excuse to come visit. Sarutobi-sensei wants to drag everyone to a drinking party after work. You're coming, right?"

When he pursed his lips, she already knew his answer. That didn't mean she was going to accept it.

"Please, Orochimaru-sensei. Don't you want to hear about all the cool stuff I've been doing?" she wheedled. Orochimaru's lips twisted.

"I don't know. I'm not a big fan of social gatherings," he hedged. He rubbed his hands together.

"I'll show you my training videos. Even the ones from when I was in Saint Petersburg," Sakura offered. Orochimaru's gaze sharpened. He stared her directly in the eyes.

"Even ones you haven’t posted to your Instagram?" he demanded. And Sakura laughed. She had won.

"You really are obsessed. Yeah, Sensei. Those too," she answered.

When the last bell rang and students filed out of the building, most of the teachers stayed put. There were clubs and activities to advise and paperwork to complete. Some holed up in the faculty room to grade as the sky began to darken.

Sakura lingered in the library, hands on her hips. Shikamaru tilted his head to one side. A book held against his hip.

"I mean, I don't think it's against school rules. I'd double check with the principal, though," he mused. Sakura tilted her head too. Crossing her arms across her chest. She nodded.

The door burst open. Asuma poked his head in, grinning.

"Come on, you two. Time to go!" he called.

"That old man's as annoying as ever," grumbled Shikamaru as they followed him into the hall.

In a town as small as Konoha, there weren't many places to choose from in terms of post-work drinks. There was a bar by the one and only train station, or another bar near the doctor's office. The one near the train station was a little nicer, however, and it seemed that the principal was in a generous mood.

The owner ushered them into the private room in the back. They settled around the low wooden tables. Purses and jackets went in neat piles against the walls.

Sakura made sure to sit next to Orochimaru, who still looked wary about the whole affair. On her other side sat Shikamaru.

Tsunade kept her speech short as she welcomed Sakura to the staff. Making a few jokes here and there that the older teachers laughed at. There were some new faces that Sakura wasn't familiar with. They introduced themselves, and Sakura forgot their names almost immediately. And there wasn't enough time to feel bad about this as food and snacks arrived.

Sakura unlocked her phone and scrolled through her old videos. She opened up the folder that read 'St. Petersburg Training'. Orochimaru leaned closer to get a better look. He pulled out his glasses, perching them on the end of his nose.

Tsunade laughed. “I still can’t get used to those. Orochimaru-sensei, you look like an old man.”

Orochimaru stared at her over his glasses before he replied, “Allow me to gently remind you that you’re a year older than me, Kouchou.” But Tsunade continued to laugh, raising a glass to herself in a toast.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not a day over 40,” she proclaimed. Laughter exploded from her end of the table at that.

Sighing, Orochimaru looked back down at Sakura’s phone. He fixed his glasses again. When Sakura hit play, Shikamaru heard the music and leaned in to watch too.

Sakura’s long ponytail whipped out behind her as she glided around the rink. She gathered momentum and speed, eyes narrowed as she concentrated.

Her left foot slid back. She pushed off, launching into the air. She spun around three times. But when she landed on her left foot, it buckled. She tumbled, hitting the ice hard. Shikamaru and Orochimaru winced in unison. In the video, a man skated over from the opposite end of the rink, chuckling as he helped her to her feet.

In the video, Sakura was laughing too as she stood. Brushing ice off the back of her leggings.

“Stop laughing and show me how to do it again,” she complained.

“You really suck at this. Maybe we should take a break?” he suggested, his back blocking out the camera for a moment. The clip ended there.

Sakura went on, playing through more footage from her training days. They could tell the passage of time from her hair. Long to short. Short to long. She went through phases, braiding it during her junior days, letting it grow long before cutting it short for her senior debut. And then it grew out again as she continued to compete. Her simple t-shirts started to bear famous logos and sponsorships began to pour in.

A few more people crowded around one end of the table to watch. They ‘ooh’ed and cringed in the same spots. Some gasping when she stuck the hard landings. Murmuring remarks when she spiraled in almost a blur, her arms held above her head. When the videos ended, Sakura looked up in time to see Orochimaru dabbing a tear from his eye.

“Oh, Sensei, you big softie!” she laughed, putting her arm around him for a second. He sniffed, expression quite composed.

“Your take-offs are so clean. But you’ve always been good at those,” he sighed, patting her knee. And then he shuffled back to his original position. Taking a sip of his beer.

“I had no idea Orochimaru-sensei was such a figure skating maniac,” Lee whispered. Kakashi chuckled as he poured him another drink.

“Orochimaru-sensei skated when he was younger. He’s the one that taught Haruno how to skate,” Kakashi replied. And Orochimaru smiled sheepishly.

“If only I was more careful and didn’t tear my meniscus in college,” lamented Orochimaru. Sakura patted his hand on top of the table for a moment.

“Then I wouldn’t have met you. I’m sure it’s still a tragedy in your mind, but I consider if one of my biggest blessings, Sensei,” Sakura assured him. Orochimaru went very quiet as he stared at her. Tears welled up in his eyes. Putting his arm around her, he yelled out for the waitress.

“Another round of beers on me, please,” he called.

A cheer rose up around the table.

Sakura spent the rest of the night getting to know the other teachers. The people like Asuma, Kurenai, and Kakashi had been her own teachers in high school. It felt strange to call them her colleagues now. And it felt even stranger for them to turn around and call her ‘sensei’ too. She saw new sides of them that she hadn’t had a chance to see. Like how Kakashi giggled with each new drink he tossed back. And how Tsunade told some bawdy stories that made Sakura’s cheeks burn as she listened in.

It had been nearly 10 years since she had set foot in her hometown. And while some of the faces were more lined, there was something comforting about sitting there. Listening to the inconsequential gossip. No stares or whispers as people tried to secretly take her photo.

She let Kurenai pour her another drink. Asuma lifted his glass and everyone else copied him.

“Welcome home, Haruno Sakura,” he crowed.

“Kampai!” everyone else cheered, clinking their glasses together. Beer foaming and sloshing down the sides.

Sakura threw her head back and laughed from deep inside her belly.

[mirageofthedesert]

Looking out for Trouble

[stephaniefchase]

Bajan Newscap 9/30/2017

Good Morning #realdreamchasers. Here is your daily news cap for Saturday, September 30th, 2017. There is a lot to read and digest so take your time. Remember you can read full articles via Barbados Today (BT), or by purchasing Saturday Sun Nation Newspaper (SS).

NO IGNORING S&P: ACTING PM RESPONDS TO LATEST ECONOMIC DOWNGRADE –Acting Prime Minister and Minister of Tourism Richard Sealy says the recent downgrade by international ratings agency Standard & Poor’s (S&P) should not be ignored. At the same time, Sealy does not expect any tourism fallout as a result of  S&P’s lowering of the long-term local currency sovereign credit rating on the country to ‘CCC’ from ‘CCC+, while affirming its long-term foreign currency sovereign rating at ‘CCC+’. However, even though S&P has said that the outlook on both long-term ratings is negative, Sealy does not expect the latest downgrade to have a direct impact on the vital tourism sector. In fact, delivering the weekly Astor B Watts lunchtime lecture at the Democratic Labour Party’s George Street headquarters on Friday, he pointed to a number of current and pending investments in the sector, arguing that while it was expected that investors would look at the country’s overall investment grade, he did not see it causing them to hold back. The Acting Prime Minister said he was satisfied that Government had been creating the enabling environment for investment in the sector, though he was not prepared to dismiss the downgrade out of hand. (BT)

CARNIVAL CANCELS CRUISES – Tourism industry players dependent on the cruise industry have had the wind knocked out of their sales. Carnival Cruise Lines announced the cancellation of the Carnival Fascination’s cruises to Barbados for September 24, October 4 and 11, due to the damage Hurricane Maria caused to San Juan in Puerto Rico, home port for Carnival and other major cruise lines. The fact that something was amiss showed up as early as Wednesday when the familiar sight of the ship’s red, white and blue funnel standing out against the skyline was missing at the Bridgetown Port. Chief executive officer of Foster and Ince Cruises, Martin Ince, whose company is responsible for handling many cruise lines coming into Barbados, confirmed they had been advised about the cancellations by Carnival.  (SS)

NOT BUDGING: HEIGHTENED PROTEST NOW SEEMS INEVITABLE – It now seems inevitable that workers at two statutory corporations will be off the job in the not too distant future. This as a bitter pay dispute between management of the Caribbean Broadcasting Corporation(CBC) and the Barbados Workers’ Union remains deadlocked. Amid feverish last ditch efforts by the Minister of Labour Dr Esther Byer -Suckoo to broker an agreement this morning, both sides appeared to be digging in their heels, with the BWU today threatening to call out its members at the neighbouring Barbados Water Authority (BWA) headquarters over the vexed issue of payment of outstanding increments. As the CBC workers picketed the compound of the state broadcaster this morning, there were loud shouts of “speak the truth” after the corporation’s management issued a statement in its evening newscast on Tuesday night to the effect that while workers may be legally entitled to receive increments, such payments must fall within the existing salary scales. Management is however contending that any payments outside of the existing scales would be “tantamount to salary increases”, which, according to Section 20 (c) of the CBC Act, can only be granted by the minister responsible, which in this case is Prime Minister Freundel Stuart. At a press conference this afternoon, CBC Chairman Peter Earle also reported that the strike, which is now into its third day, has had limited effect on the operations of the state broadcaster with only 25 per cent of workers currently off the job and the radio, television and cable station’s programming largely unaffected. However, when pressed by Barbados TODAY, the CBC chairman admitted that the threat of escalated industrial action was cause for concern. (BT)

CLASSES DISRUPTED AT ST LEONARD’S BOYS’ – Classes ended abruptly today at the St Leonard’s Boys’ School, after more than 30 of the 70 teachers at the Government-run institution called in sick, in apparent protest over the dismissal of a clerk typist. It was just yesterday that President of the Barbados Secondary Teachers’ Union (BSTU) Mary Redman served notice during a news conference at the union’s Belleville, St Michael headquarters of possible protest action in support of the terminated worker, and today the union seemingly delivered on its threat. After more than a third of the teaching staff failed to show up for work, school was dismissed today at noon – just after lunch – instead of the customary 2 p.m. However, up to 1:30 p.m. several students were still milling around the school compound, waiting to be picked up, as parents were seemingly caught off guard by the early closure. When approached by Barbados TODY,  Principal Joseph Maynard refused to comment on the situation. And in the absence of an official comment from Redman, another union official warned that today’s action was just the “first stand” against the school’s board of management, the principal and the Ministry of Education. The source explained that the clerk typist at the centre of the dispute had been employed at the Richmond Gap institution for three years before she was “unfairly dismissed” on August 31, 2017. The official also said that over 40 members of staff had written on her behalf calling for her reinstatement. However, the school board has had at least two meetings without addressing the dismissal. The source, who did not want to be identified, also suggested that under Maynard’s leadership, the school was in disarray. “The leadership skills are very poor and it is chaos. That entire school is chaos,” the source said, while disclosing that the timetable for the new term had only been finalized this week. “This is week three and the timetables should have been done at the end of last term and because of all the nonsense going on, as a manager and as a leader, the timetables were only fully constructed by the end of this week,” the teacher complained. (BT)

SCHOOL SYSTEM FALLING SHORT, QC PRINCIPAL WARNS - Amid rising crime and violence, a leading educator is suggesting that the school system is failing way too many of this region’s young people and that teachers must take their fair share of the blame for society’s problems. “With all the troubles we have in teaching and the teaching profession I look forward to the day of the teacher’s service commission . . . you need a system of which you can regulate and put terms and conditions on those who enter the system, conditions for entry and exit, if you don’t do your job, leave,” suggested Principal of Queen’s College Dr David Browne, as he zeroed in on the issue of education and its role in development as he delivered a guest lecture at the Rotary Club of Barbados West’s Tuesday night meeting. The principal also advocated for more soft skills to be taught at secondary schools, while lamenting the high number of students leaving school every year without certification. “As practitioners you fail if 70 per cent of the people you are teaching fail in getting certification,” Browne said, while suggesting that educators should be constantly thinking about their craft and presenting solutions to problems. The principal further suggested that on the whole more needed to be done to ensure that Barbados gets more value for the money spent on public education. Browne argued that the recent surge of violence was not surprising. In fact, he suggested that crime and violence had been on an upward spiral since the 1980s. However, he said it was the responsibility of citizens to bring the situation back under control. (BT)

OPEN ARMS – Barbados has embraced almost 20 schoolchildren from those Caribbean islands ravaged during the passage of hurricanes Irma and Maria and given them a chance to attend school here. Deputy Chief Education Officer with responsibility for schools Joy Adamson told the SATURDAY SUN the ministry was trying to accommodate the schoolchildren as best they could. “Anybody who comes into the island and wants to get children into school goes through a process,” Adamson said in a telephone interview yesterday. “There is a registration process that we have here especially for those persons and we obviously talk with them and try to see what is the best location for them, then we contact the schools to see if there is space to accommodate them,” she added.  (SS)

DOCS TO THE RESCUE – As Dominica continues to pick up the pieces after being hit by Hurricane Maria almost two weeks ago, healthcare providers are bracing for more health issues. While some healthcare facilities across the island are operating, the Princess Margaret Hospital remains the only place to handle some critical patients.

When a Saturday Sun team visited the Accident & Emergency Department, Dr Chaynie Williams, head of Barbados’ Queen Elizabeth Hospital’s Accident & Emergency, was halfway through her 12-hour shift. “The pools of stagnant water are cause for concern. We have not had anyone come in with dengue or anything of the sort yet, but I anticipate we will soon. Same as the rodent-borne illnesses. The piles of garbage building around the country . . . . Something has to be done about them otherwise there will be lots of sick people around,” she said. (SS)

SKERRIT’S FURY: PM RATTLED BY CRITICS IN THE AFTERMATH OF HURRICANE MARIA – With Dominica still struggling to pick up the pieces after it was battered by Hurricane Maria on September 18, a rattled prime minister Roosevelt Skerrit on Friday turned his wrath on certain unnamed elements in the country who, in his estimation, were seeking to undermine the recovery effort. Instead of his usual update on the relief efforts, the prime minister used much of this morning’s daily media briefing to lambaste those persons who he said were using social media and other methods to spread false information about Dominica in light of the storm. “This talk about food supplies and partisanship with food supplies and politicians are the ones dealing with the delivery of food supplies, this is total nonsense,” a visibly upset Skerrit said at the briefing, which was carried live on social media. “As the prime minister of this country, I sleep on the floor. As the prime minister of this country, I bathed this morning from a bucket of water. I don’t eat corned beef, I don’t eat sardines, so where the hell am I going to put corned beef or stock up sardines at my home or anywhere else?” he demanded to know. Skerrit explained that while relief supplies were coming in, there were limitations in terms of places to store the supplies in communities because every single home in the country was damaged during the passage of Maria, which also claimed 27 lives. He also made it clear that the distribution of supplies was being managed by the international aid agencies. “People who are seeking to undermine the government’s effort of bringing relief and bringing aid and bringing restoration of services to our country, need to stop it,” he said. “We can’t be going out there on social media, on the radio and elsewhere and making these unfounded, baseless, malicious allegations. It’s not going to hurt me and this thing must stop. Because it’s really p*****g me off that there are people out there talking a bunch of nonsense about food supplies. (BT)

WATSON TO ISSUE APOLOGY TO GOVT MINISTER MICHAEL LASHLEY - Omar Shawn Watson, of Maxwell, Christ Church, has agreed to issue a public apology to Minister of Transport Michael Lashley. Watson, who first appeared in court back in November 2014 charged with the offence of malicious communication, told Magistrate Elwood Watts in the Oistins Magistrates’ Court today he would issue the apology via social media. The charge stemmed from a message, which appeared on social media three years ago, which was said to be menacing in character and caused Lashley annoyance, distress and anxiety. (BT)

SERIAL BURGLAR – A 23-year-old man, who is known for breaking into houses, has been sentenced to 12 months in prison. Kemar Dorian Clarke of Ashby Alley, Nelson Street, St Michael appeared before Magistrate Douglas Frederick today where he pleaded guilty to a charge of entering the home of I-zion Clarke as a trespasser on September 4 and stealing a $350 bicycle, a $45 bicycle pump, a $75 belt and a $150 bottle of perfume. The homeowner reportedly returned home on the day in question to discover that the kitchen window, which he had closed, was open and the items missing. Police later executed a search warrant at Clarke’s home where the items were found. Today, even before Clarke’s lawyer could mitigate on his behalf, the magistrate revealed that the accused had spent time in prison for breaking into homes. However, attorney Mohia Ma’at sought to explain that his client was a “heavy user of marijuana, ecstasy and cocaine” and that “he got into all of this because of grief”. The attorney further explained that his client was “devastated” after his grandmother, who he was close to, passed away back in April at the age of 98. However, Frederick was not willing to entertain this excuse. He suggested that ��fellas come and use any excuse [but] grandmothers are sticklers to rules” . “I think he [Clarke] is a danger to society as it is and he is a danger to himself because he may break into the wrong person’s house and he won’t be here. In fact he is a danger to anyone who has a house. He is not learning and he came back here charged with three offences,” Frederick added. Clarke is also accused of entering the home of Jean Ori as a trespasser on August 28 and stealing a pair of bangles worth $300, a bracelet worth $260, a slave band worth $300, two watches worth $400, a necklace and earring set worth $640, a necklace worth $200, a $100 chain, ten pairs of earrings worth $350 and four rings worth $250. He also alleged to have entered the home of Joshua Hall on the same day and stealing a laptop valued $1,485 and a tablet valued at $299. However, he denied committing those offences. In his own plea for leniency, Clarke told the magistrate that he needed help “before it gets any worse. Psychiatric help with a nurse or something so”. However, the magistrate informed him that he could get the help if he so desired while at Dodds prison in St Philip. “I still will come back out and do the same thing,” Clarke then declared, adding “well, well, well, God don’t sleep”, to which the magistrate replied: “Why you think you are here?” He returns to court on October 27 to answer to the outstanding offences. (BT)

PLEASE RELEASE ME, BEGS GRIMES – After suggesting that he was not worried about the consequences of refusing to perform 140 hours of community service, a 20-year-old man returned to court today begging for a second chance after spending time on remand at Dodds prison. “I can’t handle it Sir, please, I am very sorry for displaying my awful behaviour. I really can’t handle it in prison, that time killing me,” Schifo Romario Grimes of Pilgrim Road, Christ Church told Magistrate Douglas Frederick in the District ‘A’ Court today. Grimes had pleaded guilty back in February to possession of cannabis and was given “a golden opportunity” which he did not grab with both hands. In August an official from the Probation Department, which oversees community service, told the court that Grimes had no desire to complete the hours allotted to him and also had no regard for the consequences. In fact, Grimes had completed only five hours of the service despite being issued with several warning letters over his failure to report to perform his duty. When he appeared in court via an arrest warrant, Grimes told the magistrate he was not interested in the community service. However, today he had an obvious change of heart. “There [jail] ain’t no place for me. I honestly can’t stay in jail. People just coming round me . . . taking my things. I am not a bad boy, Sir. I just asking if I can get another chance to prove myself. I begging you. I can’t handle it please,” Grimes pleaded. His mother, who was present in court, also told the magistrate that her son “did not give no trouble” but just would not do the service. “All the good boys end up here,” the magistrate stated, as he gave Grimes his second chance at community service. “Thank you your honour,” a grateful Grimes said as he left the court to return on December 8 for a progress report on his community service. (BT)

SMITH TO GET HELP WITH DRUG HABIT – A 20-year-old man was today transferred from HMP Dodds to the Psychiatric Hospital for an assessment. On Wednesday, Antonio Daren Smith of Spruce Street, The City, St Michael pleaded guilty to possession of apparatus for the misuse of cocaine and was remanded to prison by Magistrate Douglas Frederick to reappear today for sentencing. However, Smith, who was arrested by police on patrol on September 27 after a cracked bottle with white residue suspected to cocaine was found in his possession, made a formal plea for help to fight his drug addiction. “I want to know if I can do something that could help me like Verdun House. I get addicted by a fella . . . I started by smoking marijuana,” Smith revealed. However the magistrate informed him that he would have to spend three weeks at the Black Rock Hospital for an assessment to be made of his suitability for drug rehabilitation. “That’s no problem Sir. Today Sir?” an anxious Smith asked. He returns to court on October 20. (BT)

JAMAICAN HAIRDRESSER SENT OFF TO DODDS – A 21-year-old Jamaican hairdresser, who is accused of importing two kilos of cannabis into Barbados, has been remanded to Dodds prison. Patricia Stephanie Rose of No.2 Springfield Road, Morant Bay, St Thomas appeared before Magistrate Douglas Frederick in the District ‘A’ Magistrates’ Court today charged with possession, possession with intent to supply and trafficking of the illicit substance after she was nabbed at the Grantley Adams International Airport on September 27 with three packages of the drug in her handbag. She was remanded to prison until October 5 after the prosecutor, Sergeant Martin Rock, objected to her bail on the basis that she may abscond, given that she is a non-national with no concrete ties to Bridgetown. (BT)

BLANKED – West Indies failed in their bid to end their English summer on a high when they suffered a heavy nine-wicket drubbing in the final One-Day International of the five-match series today. Defending 288 at the Ageas Bowl, West Indies were put to the sword by Jonny Bairstow who belted an unbeaten 141 and fellow opener Jason Roy, who hammered 96, as the hosts marched to their target off 38 overs to complete a 4-0 series win. The pair put on 156 for the first wicket before Test captain Joe Root, who ended unbeaten on 46, added a further 138 in an unbroken second-wicket stand with Bairstow to see England to their 16th win over the Windies in their last 22 ODI meetings. (BT)

DERRICK GARRETT’S FINAL PLAY – A caring man, a loving father, devoted husband and a no-nonsense individual, were among the many qualities attributed to late Barbados Amateur Basketball Association (BABA) president Derrick Alphonzo Garrett, during his funeral service at the Christ Church Parish Church this evening. Garrett passed away on September 14 after a two-year battle with cancer. And this afternoon, scores of persons, including members of his family, the basketball and other sporting fraternities, members of the Guardian Group where he worked, friends and acquaintances, packed inside and outside the church. Sports administrators such as outgoing Barbados Olympic Association president Steve Stoute, assistant director of sport at the National Sports Council, Mona Alleyne, former Barbados cricket manager, Hartley Reid, former teacher and entertainer Mac Fingall, all joined Garrett’s wife Ingrid, mother Valda Pinder, sons Darren and Derrick Jr., sister Denise Holder, mother of West Indies captain, Jason Holder, to pay their final goodbyes. (BT)

BIGGER RUN BARBADOS – The Cave Shepherd Run Barbados Marathon Weekend is expecting to see an increase in competitors at this year’s event. This was revealed by event director Zary Evelyn during yesterday’s press launch at the South Beach Hotel. “We are expecting growth this year to be around 20 to 25 per cent and that is despite the fact that the Caribbean has gotten a bad press with the hurricanes. "A lot of people out there that were interested in coming to Barbados for the marathon have been calling and emailing and want to know how you guys [Barbados] are recovering so it took a lot of getting the message out there that Barbados is ready for everyone to come in and enjoy the marathon weekend,” Evelyn said. (SS)

CHANGES MADE TO THIS YEAR’S NIFCA – Changes have been made to this year’s National Independence Festival of Creative Arts (NIFCA), with the announcement today of the creation of a new “semi-professional category” of competitors. Chief Cultural Officer at the National Cultural Foundation (NCF) Alison Sealy Smith made the revelation during a NIFCA press briefing at the Haggatt Hall offices of the Ministry of Culture Sports and Youth, at which she reported that planning for this year’s festival began back in early June. The NCF official also said that  following “an in-depth critical analysis of the last ten years of its Performing Arts component” it was decided that an additional category would be added. Winners in this category will be eligible for a yearlong BIMAP course to study for a certificate in management studies at a value of $2,500. Sealy-Smith also announced that this year’s Performing Arts finals will take place at the Major Noot Hall at the Combermere School instead of the Frank Collymore Hall, which is under renovation. And while the NIFCA Gala is set to return to its original home at the Garfield Sobers Gymnasium, the Visual Arts Exhibition will be held at the Lloyd Erskine Sandiford Centre where its opening will be twinned with the Literary Arts Gala as part of an Evening of the Arts celebration. This year’s NIFCA semifinalists will be announced next week, ahead of the first semi-final on October 7-8 at the Lester Vaughn School. (BT)

NAIL BITING FINALE – There’s no better way to describe Sunday’s finale to the inaugural Richard Stoute Talent Contest for differently abled persons than thrilling. It was a nail-biter. Plain and simple. One of the most keenly contested competitions Barbados has seen in a very long time. So much so, that even after all 16 performances on the night, I’m sure many who packed the house at the Divi Southwinds Resort in St Lawrence Gap were scratching their heads in wonderment about who would be named the eventual winner. The competition saw eight contestants, who suffer from physical and visual challenges, blow everyone away with their fantastic talent and skills. At the end though, it was calypsonian Granville Carter that emerged as the best of the best and he walked away with bragging rights, a huge trophy and $2 000 cash for his efforts. (SS)

That’s all for today folks there are 92 days left in the year Shalom! #thechasefiles #dailynewscaps Follow us on Twitter, Facebook & Instagram for your daily news. #bajannewscaps #newscapsbystephaniefchase