Paul Tarwater
November 05, 2009 4:32 PM
Help! I'm alive! by Paul Tarwater
It wasn’t very long into the feast when Paul had successfully stuffed his face with as much food as his stomach could handle. The boy, not one to socialize with his peers… ever, a boy who actually disliked his peers enough to avoid them as much as possible, hurried out of the Cascade hall as soon as he could. He barely gave himself time to digest, running a hand through his dark hair, rubbing his eyes as he went on, briskly walking, his steps clipping the floor. He slowed down once he felt he was a safe distance away from the babble of his classmates.It was his last year here. Oh thank Merlin and anyone else valid to thank, he’d survived so far, with therapy and paranoia and insomnia and scars (some recent and new, the reasons he held the sleeves of his robes so tight in his hands, so they didn’t roll up and show any of that) granted, but he was alive. He was sane, not that anyone who spoke about Paul Tarwater would agree. But, they didn’t matter anymore, he thought he was sane, he thought he was more sane than all of them. And come the end of this year, he would never see any of them ever again ever. He would go back to Oregon, and live out his life, and he would… he would get a job.
His thoughts started to correspond with his surroundings when he hit the library. The reason he was more sane, he spent as much time as humanly possible in this library. His fingers brushing the spines as he realized what he was going to do. He could open a bookstore, the idea grew in his mind over the summer, after Lussni died, and he ended up spending more time away from home. More time in whatever musty old place he could find that was quiet.
Bookstores were quiet, it was ideal for him, he wouldn’t have to deal with anyone. At least, he wouldn’t have to deal with the loud and obnoxious and all around annoying. His plan all written out on many pages of many notebooks, he was sure he knew exactly how to go about it. Directly after leaving Sonora and never looking back, maybe even a few weeks before. The first would be a loan, he could be polite if he needed, polite for short periods of time.
And he could get money. Enough money to get by at first, and then enough money to help his parents get by, and then he could live comfortably enough. Alone, solitude, it was all he needed really.
He could get another cat if he needed one.
Paul looked around, viewing the library as if he was scrutinizing another business. Looking for what they did that he would want to do, or something that was wrong with Sonora’s establishment. It was a while before he actually sat down, leaning back in the chair, listening to it creak. The dark haired boy then dropped to his knees, crawling under the table and inspecting it. The legs, the way the woodwork went. I can’t even afford this yet, he thought bitterly, running his thumb up the indented wood. He was deep into this odd sort of meditation, reaching a level of calm so well that he forgot to be paranoid of someone sneaking up on him.
So when someone did, he jumped so violently he smacked his head on the table. “OW!” and then a swear, “Wh-what was th-that come, on,” hissed under his breath. Yes, Paul Tarwater could be a polite boy. But not when he was in pain. Just ask his sister.
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Paul Tarwater
Help! I'm alive!
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Paul Tarwater
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Gabrielle DiCarlo
November 08, 2009 7:25 PM
To the rescue! by Gabrielle DiCarlo
From ‘Should I go to college or get a job?’ to ‘Will I be able to pay for school?’ to ‘Will I be able to find a job?’ to even the more basic ‘Will we stay together?’ were the questions Gabrielle feared, because they were the ones that would begin building tension within the seventh year class. She didn’t like stress, as it was quite unnecessary. She had full confidence that the Fates would take care of everything. All one had to do was know what they liked and to follow that path. For example, she loved art and knew that if she trusted the Fates, they would leave her on an artist’s path.But, of course, not everyone thought the way she did, which is how she found herself in the library. She wanted to avoid any beginning tension. Some might realize with the sorting of the first years that they were really seventh years, that this would be their last sorting, that they were going to be entering the world and thus leading to all the questions. No, she found it much better to be in a calm environment where she could concentrate on her sketchbook. This is what made the library the perfect place for the moment as nearly no one, if anyone, would be here. Though, this would change when school got in full swing and then she would need a new place.
For now, however, she was rather content with her legs curled under her on one of the wooden chairs. Her fingers danced with charcoal across the blank page – a line here, a line there as it became alight with life. Her concentration was only interrupted when she felt the presence of someone else in the library. Looking up, she noticed Paul Tarwater and smiled a bit. The times that she had talked to him, he had seemed rather nice, if not a bit jumpy. She wondered if he was avoiding the tension as much as she was before going back to her picture.
When she heard the chair creak, she glanced up once more from her work. Hmm. There really was no sense in sitting alone when there was another person in the library. They could enjoy each other’s company and still do her work. Besides, he seemed to be as odd as her as she watched him climb under the table. Prancing over to the area, she crouched down so they would be at eye level, however, his back was to her defeating the entire purpose. Gently, or at least she thought it was, she touched him on the shoulder, which seemed to only have the conclusion of him jumping out of his skin.
“Oh, I’m sorry!” She cried, her blue eyes wide, at the same time he was having his own utterances. She hadn’t meant to scare him half to death. “Sorry! Sorry! Are you okay?” Without thinking about it, she touched his head – as if that would actually do any good. “I saw that you were over here and thought you might like some company.” Most people at this point might have included the question as to why he was even under the table, because they would have thought it odd, but it didn’t strike her as being something that out of the ordinary, which said a lot about her.
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Gabrielle DiCarlo
To the rescue!
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Gabrielle DiCarlo
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Paul Tarwater
November 13, 2009 1:05 PM
And how will you solve this problem? by Paul Tarwater
Slamming his head on the table wasn’t the worst part, even worse was that the girl had bent down, petting him on the head or something. He shook her hand off at first, stumbling backwards in order to do this, looking up and finding himself getting a better look at the girl who had startled him. Good luck was that this wasn’t anyone he disliked (ahem, anyone from Pecari). He didn’t know Gabrielle DiCarlo that well. He knew he’d talked to her before, but he was sure it had only been the most casual of speaking. He couldn’t even remember… and now…Paul’s look was cold when he looked up, only to soften when he did see her, “I hit my head,” obvious, Paul Tarwater, very obvious. He shook his head, pushing his dark hair back with a small sigh, “No, no I mean I’m fine now,” as if the bump on his head wasn’t still hurting (which, ahem, it kind of still was). He blinked, supposing now he had made a fool of himself, why not move on with something else? But, his ears were ringing lightly, and he didn’t know Gabby that well.
Glancing over his shoulder, to see if she’d brought more people, to stand there and laugh at him while Paul Tarwater made a fool of himself once again. The one thing he found he could say was, “Would you… like to join me?” Forgetting completely that he was under a table. Ah, this was starting out to be a good year.
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Paul Tarwater
And how will you solve this problem?
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Paul Tarwater
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Gabrielle
November 29, 2009 7:56 PM
Paulie want a cracker? by Gabrielle
“Oh, good,” Gabrielle stated in relief. She had been worried that she would have to take him to the Hospital Wing to get checked out. She wasn’t really a fan of hospitals or anything like them, which was kind of funny given how much time had been spent in them and she was sure to continue spending in. There was no way around that though. She couldn’t avoid the checkups, questions, and the like, not when she had diabetes. At least now, she had a good handle on her disease and could work towards treating it and it sure beat being as sick as she had been before she had been diagnosed. Maybe that was why she hated hospitals. That association.Her head tilted in interest when Paul asked if she would like to join him. She had never thought him to be much of a people person, which was perfectly fine. Everyone was different. It was nice though that he had asked and she decided to take him up on his offer. “Yes, that would be lovely. Hold on though. Be right back.” With that, she pushed herself up off the floor and went to get her bag. After she retrieved it, Gabrielle went back to where Paul was and crawled under the table to join him. “Back.” Though, it seemed unnecessary to say since it seemed fairly obvious that she was now sitting beside him, her knee touching his.
She began rummaging around in her bag until she found what she was looking for and pulled out a lunch bag. She usually packed one for the trips coming and going to Sonora so that if she needed to eat, she had the opportunity to do so. And since she had already been planning to skip the feast, she had packed a meal since she couldn’t skip that. She would get sick if she did. Opening the lunch bag, there was a small chicken salad and some brown rice. She also had some unsalted wheat crackers. “Do you want one?” She asked offering the crackers. “Sorry, I skipped the Feast and need to eat.” She apologized as she took a bite of lettuce.
“So, what classes are you taking this year?” She asked, trying to initiate a conversation in case he wanted to talk. If not, then he would simply answer the question without really elaborating. If that were the case, then she would just continue on her meal and then possibly a bit more sketching. “I’m taking COMC, Charms, and Transfiguration, just like last year. I wonder if the new COMC professor will continue taking people to the horse ranch or not.” Gabrielle speculated. She knew of Professor Kijewski’s leaving since she had said so last term, but hadn’t heard of the other new professors yet.
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Gabrielle
Paulie want a cracker?
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Gabrielle
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Paul
December 20, 2009 12:59 AM
Paulie would like a full meal, please by Paul
Oh, dear Gabrielle. You probably would have to take Paul to the Hospital Wing after what he just said. Right now he’s looking down at the floor, a look of complete confusion on his face, wondering what the hell he’s just said. Well, Paul, let us enlighten you, you just asked a girl to join you under a table, which you were inspecting for sturdiness. A table you hit your head on. That’s what happened.He looked up. She said she would be right back, but for a moment he hoped she would realize what a freak he was and run away, never to return. Really, he would understand completely and hate you no more than he hated everyone else. (Which was a lot, by the way, but as it was mostly everyone, it shouldn’t really count so much). But no, she did come back, with her bag, which meant that she planned on staying for a while (maybe?), or at least as long as he would. Making a face, a sort of what the… face, Paul cleared his throat.
“Uh… sorry. I didn’t think you would actually…” sit under a table with the crazy kid? Well who expected that? But how would you say that. He looked over at her, rummaging through her bag, and with a shrug, he took a cracker. “I… I stayed for the… uh the food.” Because where else would he get such a good meal. Paul adjusted himself, trying to put some distance between them, a bit hard under the table. But could he just tell her to get out now? Or should he wait it out? Gabrielle wasn’t that bad… not compared to most their peers.
Ah… awkward. Paul was silent for a second, clearing his throat. “I don’t… know if it matters. Would we be going back?” he asked, tracing his finger on the rug. “Uh, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Charm, Potions,” it was a lot on his plate, but Paul rarely did anything but study, play Quidditch, and
So he did. And he shrugged. Not everyone has a stomach like you, Paul. His nervous laugh sounded more like a cough. “Nevermind, guess not everyone has a stomach like me…” Oh, you fail at sounding like you have a sense of humor. Maybe you really are okay.
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Paul
Paulie would like a full meal, please
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Paul
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