Post by Deleted on Jan 22, 2014 22:30:58 GMT -5
We were born, born to be wild
Whoever said the school field trip to Chicago for a couple days would be cool lied. Maybe if they were at the Baseball Museum it would’ve been, but no. They were stuck looking at some stupid artifact that made no sense whatsoever, not even if he tilted his head all the way over to its side. The tour guide babbled on at the front of the group, but she might as well have been saying “blah blah blah” for all Ben knew. All the teacher’s pets were at the front of the group, listening with such rapt attention and answering lousy questions that could be found just by reading the plaque next to the object. Yeah, it was a History museum. Still. A lot of what they were going over didn’t seem to be exactly new or interesting. The only bright side he could see was that his mom would be happy he got the extra credit points to bolster his grades, but if he had stayed back in Battle Creek things would probably not have been much better with his mom gone. She went away to a Yoga Conference for a week, leaving him to school and staying with a friend whose parents weren’t as open as his mom.
Hanging out at the far back of the crowd, time seemed to crawl. They could be at an exhibit for only a couple minutes and it felt more like a couple hours. More than once Ben found himself turning around and looking in different directions, especially when there was the loud giggling of girls as they walked throughout the room. That temporarily perked the teenager up, glancing back towards the group of students he was supposed to be a part of. Already he had been yelled at by one of the chaperones for lagging behind and not paying attention. At least he hadn’t taken his mp3 player and earphones out of his pocket, spending his wasted time doing something he’d actually enjoy. But instead he had rolled his dark eyes, muttering that he was coming, and moving along as he was expected to. Did he get extra points for not “sassing” those in supposed authority? If he needed to find his class, all he had to do was follow the flow of people or stop by the information desk or wait by the entrance. He was a big boy and sometimes these adults put his mother’s sometimes neurotic, cautious, and protective nature to shame which was saying something. It wasn’t like Ben was one of the troubled or seriously misbehaving guys on the trip.
That title belonged to the douches on the football team who thought they were the Kings of Everything, messing around every chance they got.
Unfortunately all the friends of Ben’s in Chicago as well were put into different groups than the one he was in. Maybe if he was lucky he would get to meet up with them either at lunch time or inside the gift shop. For the moment, the best he could was make sure he was at least two “stops” behind everyone else. Otherwise he would not get through the day without punching someone. Violence was generally frowned upon, whether it was used in defense or not. He couldn’t risk losing the points or his spot on the high school baseball team. Not just because those things were pretty important, but because he didn’t want his mother to feel like she couldn’t ever go away for a bit unless she wanted him to do something stupid. Here was an opportunity for him to prove just how mature he could be. After all, a man was supposed to face his doom head-on… or something like that. But was killing him inside the farther they went into the museum. It was a sunny September day outside and he would’ve much rather been out there doing something active than being stuck in a musty building, trying to force his brain to soak up the information provided.
In one of the glass cases was a stand-alone tree/log thing that looked like something a bird would perch on or a cat would climb up on. Wow. Just when he thought things couldn’t get any worse in the middle of the tour… the challenge was clearly accepted. Walking up beside a blonde girl that seemed to be both the sanest person in the room and around his age, he folded his arms across his chest. “This is beyond lame,” Ben commented, shaking his head and glaring at the scene before him. “I think they’re missing a stuffed bird though, but maybe it got bored enough that it ran away. What do you think?” A sideways glance, half-smile, and raised eyebrow were aimed at the person beside him. “My name’s Ben, by the way. What’s yours?”
Hanging out at the far back of the crowd, time seemed to crawl. They could be at an exhibit for only a couple minutes and it felt more like a couple hours. More than once Ben found himself turning around and looking in different directions, especially when there was the loud giggling of girls as they walked throughout the room. That temporarily perked the teenager up, glancing back towards the group of students he was supposed to be a part of. Already he had been yelled at by one of the chaperones for lagging behind and not paying attention. At least he hadn’t taken his mp3 player and earphones out of his pocket, spending his wasted time doing something he’d actually enjoy. But instead he had rolled his dark eyes, muttering that he was coming, and moving along as he was expected to. Did he get extra points for not “sassing” those in supposed authority? If he needed to find his class, all he had to do was follow the flow of people or stop by the information desk or wait by the entrance. He was a big boy and sometimes these adults put his mother’s sometimes neurotic, cautious, and protective nature to shame which was saying something. It wasn’t like Ben was one of the troubled or seriously misbehaving guys on the trip.
That title belonged to the douches on the football team who thought they were the Kings of Everything, messing around every chance they got.
Unfortunately all the friends of Ben’s in Chicago as well were put into different groups than the one he was in. Maybe if he was lucky he would get to meet up with them either at lunch time or inside the gift shop. For the moment, the best he could was make sure he was at least two “stops” behind everyone else. Otherwise he would not get through the day without punching someone. Violence was generally frowned upon, whether it was used in defense or not. He couldn’t risk losing the points or his spot on the high school baseball team. Not just because those things were pretty important, but because he didn’t want his mother to feel like she couldn’t ever go away for a bit unless she wanted him to do something stupid. Here was an opportunity for him to prove just how mature he could be. After all, a man was supposed to face his doom head-on… or something like that. But was killing him inside the farther they went into the museum. It was a sunny September day outside and he would’ve much rather been out there doing something active than being stuck in a musty building, trying to force his brain to soak up the information provided.
In one of the glass cases was a stand-alone tree/log thing that looked like something a bird would perch on or a cat would climb up on. Wow. Just when he thought things couldn’t get any worse in the middle of the tour… the challenge was clearly accepted. Walking up beside a blonde girl that seemed to be both the sanest person in the room and around his age, he folded his arms across his chest. “This is beyond lame,” Ben commented, shaking his head and glaring at the scene before him. “I think they’re missing a stuffed bird though, but maybe it got bored enough that it ran away. What do you think?” A sideways glance, half-smile, and raised eyebrow were aimed at the person beside him. “My name’s Ben, by the way. What’s yours?”
Tag: Claire || Note: Museum time, poor kids
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