Le Cancre

Splish. Splash. The water resonated mockingly as he swished away at it in his bathtub. Another loss. His team was never going to reach the playoff with this abysmal performance. No worries, at least now he’d have time to finish his model Iron Throne. He never cared much for volleyball anyway. Joining the inter-house team was just an easy way to gain extra action hours for his CAS requirements. He already had well over forty and no fucks left to give. To hell with playoffs, to hell with it all!

He chuckled. He did have quite a flair for the melodramatic. Not a month had passed since stood on the cafeteria tables, face painted blue screaming in protest over the school administration’s latest attack on the student body.

“THEY MAY TAKE AWAY OUR EXEATS BUT THEY WILL NEVER. TAKE. OUR FREEEEDOOOM!”

The room erupted with cheers as let himself fall into a welcoming sea of  undulating hands and ululations. It took five school guards, three teachers and thirty minutes to reign in the budding anarchists. Two week suspension and prep isolation. Not the ideal result, granted, but the exeats remained. A job half well done.

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