Food for the soul? [open]

[¡El Bandito!]

No lie, Ochi Haruka loved music.

What she didn't like so much was trying to read music.

She knew how to play the bass guitar, and she wanted to learn how to do other things too, maybe some guitar, some drums, maybe some piano and even something interesting like trumpet, just for kicks. But, she was entirely self-taught, playing things by ear, memorization, and repetition rather than looking at a piece of paper and figuring it out.

So, she decided, that since her Senior year was already pretty full of slacker classes, she may as well add another thing to the list, just to infuriate her parents more: music theory. It really wouldn't help her in any of the 'real world' situations that her father demanded she prepare herself for, but, really... fuck that. She had no intention of living in the real world; she was a rock star. Or, a rock star at heart, anyway... and she was fully intent on acting like it, until her death due to an epic bender at the ripe old age of twenty-seven.

So, she made her way to the music room, content to learn how to read some notes and figure out the difference between a b and a b-flat for an hour before going off to lunch to smoke in the girls' (or maybe boys', just to see if she ended up running into either of those guys from the other day again) bathroom and maybe skipping fifth period just for kicks. Though, she couldn't afford to do that too many times if she wanted to keep her grades up high enough to not get pulled out and dragged home... not to mention the whole 'college' thing.

The best part of the music room, she decided as she poked her head in, was the lack of desks. Kids just sat around on the raised step, or fiddled around with instruments while they waited for the class bell to ring and for the period to begin. She chose a spot to sit off to the side, setting her bag down next to her and pulling out a baggie of dried mangoes; rather than eat a big lunch all at once she tended to snack throughout the day. Listening quietly to the chaotic mess of kids warming up, she nibbled on the edge of one of the pieces of yellow fruit, smiling to herself. Yeah, this class was pretty awesome so far.

[SHERBEAR]

Gaara swung the black messenger bag off his shoulder and tried (successfully) to avoid hitting a cellist in the face with it. The room was crowded with instrument cases and most of the other students had already arrived, sitting in loose circles and ranting about bands and albums that he’d never heard of.

The redhead plopped onto the step, next to his sheet music and a girl hunched over a bag of elderly, pale orange matter. He liked the teacher, who drew straight lines without a ruler and made terrible jokes that everyone felt obliged to laugh at anyway (“Touch MDF!”). She was frequently late, with an awful romance novel hidden badly under her arm and a guilty look on her face, but no one seemed to mind.

He was only in the class to make friends. That, and become more confident with the bass clef and ledger lines. It was easier when Gaara was in front of a piano or keyboard—if it sounded wrong, it probably was. So far, he hadn’t really spoken to anyone there, although he had learnt how to pencil wobbly treble clefs on staves.

There was a wide range of ability in the group itself, especially as most of the class were taking it as the soft option. Even though they clearly couldn’t be bothered to work, it was nice that they made some effort.

“Hello,” He recited to the green-eyed girl, because she was pretty and he was making an effort to be more sociable. Kankuro had declared that he was too formal and stoic and it put people off continuing any conversation. Well, not in as many words—the actual phrase had been “Stop being such a weirdo.” Accompanied with a hair ruffle so he knew that his brother wasn’t being fully serious, but still.

[¡El Bandito!]

While it couldn't really be said that she minded her own business, Haruka typically kept mostly to herself in Theory. She didn't really recognize many of the faces in the room; most of the kids seemed to be younger than her and she wasn't exactly the most sociable person to begin with. She rather liked the teacher and her flustered air, and she didn't particularly want to be an obnoxious distraction in this class... not that she was most of the time, anyway. Despite what anyone might believe from her looks, she actually got good grades, something that routinely surprised even her but wasn't something she was really going to complain about. Sure, it could be argued that she was selling out and becoming institutionalized, but on the other hand, it was easier to do damage from within than without. Fucking up the curve for the other assholes in her class and infuriating them when she got better scores gave her a sort of devious joy that was rarely matched.

She was snapped out of her inner musings, however, by a redheaded boy sitting next to her and saying hello. To be honest she wasn't really used to this; she didn't really bother talking to people unless she had to and they seemed to do likewise. She looked over at him with her usual cross of a grin and a smirk, swallowing the mouthful of dried mango. He was cute, with green eyes and messy red hair like her... but his hair was probably natural and not the bizarre abominable red-orange-pink salmony color she had managed to dye her own. "Sup," she replied easily to his greeting, holding back the internal snarker that wanted to point out that he was wearing far too much eyeliner even if he wanted to go for the counterculture indie boy look. But... somehow he managed to make it look good anyway, and honestly that was a rather impressive feat.

She sat in silence for a few seconds, not really sure what else to say. Most of the things that came to mind were nitpicky and antagonizing, and she didn't really want to nitpick and antagonize one of the first people to bother talking to her in this class. So, she extended her hand over to him, holding out the baggie of dried fruit. "Want one?" she asked, cracking her neck in the process. Food was a good means of 'bonding', right?

[Zaiachi Kiomi]

“I swear, School is just a fancy word for BDSM.”

Because apparently, there were only two kinds of people in school—The Dominant ones and the Submissive. Frankly speaking, Kiomi hated to belong to the latter especially when she had to go through hell under her math professor. GOD, she swore that Satan puked that stupid subject onto man in order to make them suffer. They said that math was good and that everything around them was math, well screw that! If math was so good, then why did it give majority of the students that she knew brain damage. After every class, most of her peers were mind fucked (including her) because of those scribbled excuses for equations that wasn’t even going to be used in real life. Then again, she’d be damned if she saw someone from Café Paridiso or from Fresh Mart using algebra to compute the bill. Not only will she be damned, Kiomi would probably ‘lag’ from all the incomprehensible data that she would be forced to deal with.

A little rebellious at heart(-cough-understatement-cough-), the young Zaiachi was still pretty top notch when it came to class. She was no genius that much was evident, but a little hard work plus memorization skills as well as listening skills usually did the trick for her. She hated jotting down notes when listening since it deterred her concentration. That was the reason why her memorization skills really paid off. Her disposition was always this: ‘Listen, don’t jot down notes and then pass on the next pop quiz.’ Or ‘Jot down note, listen, get distracted and then fail the next exam.’ It was pretty clear which was the lesser evil. But alas, there was just one subject, ONE GOD FORSAKEN subject, that kept on dragging her to the fiery pits of the underworld(well, her grades to be exact), and that was Math. Nothing worked. She listened, she jot down notes but nothing. Sure the principle was easy but the application, oh for the love of all the gods, demi-gods, saints, demons, princes of Hell, dukes and cherry tarts, was a freaking mind rapist.

So that’s why, the lilac haired girl would merrily skip across the corridor and into…

Ah yes, this was her kind of crowd. Noisy folks chattering about the latest singles that hit the charts, the noobs that were trying to bust their windpipes by playing the windpipes, the seasoned musicians playing a tune for practice while waiting for the bell to scream in their ears, and of course the…

“GRAWR!”

the music teacher that never failed to get a mini heart attack whenever Kiomi did her little rabid kitty impression. It was kind of nice that the teacher did arrive just a little earlier than she did. It gave her the opportunity to scare her a little. The reaction was priceless. Although upon entering the room, Silvery gray eyes covered with expensive looking sunglasses spotted one familiar figure among the other runts. “Ruka!” She called out as she made her way towards the friend and the strawberry top that the senior was conversing with.

There was some time to spare right? After all Music class didn’t seem like it was going to start just yet. Oho, ho yes~ talk about a way of getting out of an unwanted dilemma. Screw math since music makes the world go round.

[Amaya]

For once the blond was taking a class that was out of the normal for her, Music Theory. Yeah she knew something about music, she had been talking piano lessons, not that she was very good at it. The whole playing part was easy but the whole reading and writing music. Well she sucked at it to put it nicely, like she totally sucked. That was not something that she enjoyed, it was a bit of an obsession of her to be good at what she does. So taking a step out of her normal class plans she opted for Music Theory, a class which she didn't think she would know anyone in, well at least not know them well. There were few people in this school, the juniors and seniors to be precise (she didn't know many underclassmen). That she didn't know at least by name.

Entering the loud class room she was glad for the relaxed feeling in the room. Shifting the unusual weight of her backpack she glanced around. She had brought some of her piano music, and since it was running lost in a folder she decided not to risk spilling all the pages to the floor and looking like a fool in favor of dragging her backpack with her. Not that is was her preferred thing, it had been surprisingly useful though she pondered as she wandered into the class room.

Looking around at the little group the class seemed to be full of mostly underclassmen, which was disappointing. Glancing over she was caught by a loud voice and sever people with unique hair. Now she was blond and was therefore use to standing out in the sea of dark haired students at school. She was rather certain she could count the people with hair that was not a shade of brown or black on one hand. Looking around she actually saw a rather large number of the people on that list, and none of who she knew on any basis other than their name and a possibility of some class they had had together.

There was Sabaku No Gaara, who's hair was a most lovely shade of red and who she had only shared a few classes with and she didn't really know any better than that. Zaiachi Kiomi, was another girl in her grade with hair the color of lilac's and Ino didn't know her at all. Also in the group they seemed to have formed was Occhi Haruka, who's hair was some shade of red, at least for now. All Ino knew of her was that she was a Senior who had connections of some kind with Suzume and Kankuro. (the only others of an off hair color missing were Naruto the other blonde and Sakura with her pink hair) Well if that didn't give her a strange feeling of not exactly fitting in then she didn't know what would. Still there was a chance that she might make friends in this class, so that is what she would hope for.

Shaking any odd feelings off she glanced around spotting a piano in the corner she made a mental note to remember that and stop by here when the classroom was empty and practice. While it was tempting to look at the piano, for the moment she decided against it and found a seat on the steps, the only safe open spot being near where the group of upperclassmen were at. It seemed there was time still before the start of class so Ino relaxed into her chosen spot and leaned back on her arms, just taking in the noise from the class.

~~~~~
(ooc: i wasn't sure how well to have Ino know anyone so i just took a stab at it. If anyone wants something changed just let me know)

[SHERBEAR]

It was suddenly too loud.

“Yes, please.” Gaara did not want to reject the salmon red-haired girl’s food offering (even though it looked as if an old age pensioner who enjoyed fake tan a little too much had died in her clear plastic bag) because Kankuro hadn’t brought him up to be (unnecessarily) rude. So the green-eyed teenager gave her a vague lip quirk smile and took out a little leathery orange rectangle with his fingers.

And held it, somewhat awkwardly, between his index and thumb.
And then added, “Thank you. My name is Gaara.”

That seemed like too much detail, but he was utilising the single social skill that he owned. Sharing personal information was a good thing – it led to a mutual understanding and possible personality compatibility. Which meant friendship.

But ‘Ruka’ apparently already had a friend.

The redhead had yet to decide if this was a negative or a positive. If ‘Ruka’ had a friend, this would mean that she was experienced in being friends with someone – it would be natural to extrapolate this idea whilst adding the unprompted snack offer and conjecture that she was a ‘good friend’. However, it was wrong to be presumptuous. Although she seemed nice.

He decided to eat the piece of …whatever she had given him. This would mean that he wouldn’t have to engage in conversation with the intruder new person who was Ruka’s friend. Acquaintance. The new person could be an acquaintance.

Unfortunately, the old person skin cancer did not look any more appetising after he glared at it. Gaara thrust the ochre strip in his mouth as the other girl approached (bounced was a more appropriate verb). Chewy texture. Slight fruit origin. Not altogether unpleasant. A long way from strawberry pocky. Not terrible. No possibility of food poisoning.

…yet.

The teenager balanced his elbow on his knee and rested his chin on his palm, catching the blue eyes of a long-haired blonde.

*
she posts! finally

[¡El Bandito!]

It seemed that almost as soon as she offered her food invitation, someone else was shouting her name and getting all up in her grill.

... No, but really. Upon hearing the lilac-haired girl call out her name, Haruka looked from the redheaded boy to the door, where she saw an over-energetic junior practically knock the poor teacher down before running over. How the hell she could have that much energy, Haruka would never understand, but it didn't really matter at this point. "Kio~" she said in a sing-song voice, patting the empty space on the other side of her from the boy she was currently talking to.

Speaking of which, she managed to snap back to said redheaded boy just in time to catch a name: Gaara. Haruka smiled, watching as he took a piece of mango and chewed it gingerly before in turn moving his attention from her and her new companion to a blonde-haired girl who had just come into the classroom as well.

Suddenly, as she found herself in the middle of this circle of activity, Haruka couldn't help but feel rather popular. As popular as someone could ever be while in the music room, anyway, she thought after a moment, wondering how long it would take for someone to break out the 'this one time, at band camp...?' jokes.

Seeing that she had lost the interest of the redhead-- Gaara, she bit her bottom lip slightly before turning slightly to look at Kiomi. "So what class are you skipping today?" she asked, hiding her slight disappointment with her usual smirk. After all, the boy was kinda cute. But that was okay; even if she had only briefly talked to him this time, there was always the chance that there wouldn't be any overly bouncy juniors barreling through the next class and their next opportunity to talk. She popped a piece of mango into her mouth, before offering the baggy to her lilac-haired best friend.