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Jul. 22nd, 2022 02:24 pmGoing to summer school definitely sucks. The way Jules sees it, though, it's better than the alternative. She was more than halfway through her junior year before she got here, missing those last few months and suddenly winding up in the middle of summer vacation. She has to finish getting those credits somehow, and she really wouldn't want to have to start the whole school year over, even if, in all fairness, she spent most of it back home pretty distracted anyway. So summer classes are her best bet, and anyway, at least it's a good distraction — from the mess she left behind, from the new one created when she arrived here. The last thing she needs is to spend day in and day out pining over someone who's moved on and has a whole life here.
What Jules does need is a life of her own. And, yeah, that's a lot easier said than done when her life had been uprooted maybe six months before she got here and now, just after she rebuilt it, it has been again, but that, too, isn't something she wants to spend her time focusing on. Not all that long ago — weeks, really, though it feels much longer — she felt like she couldn't breathe, like the walls were closing in around her, and she got on a train, willing to leave behind everything, even the person she loves, to get away. Now she has, with no one to come drag her home this time. It should be freeing. She tries to focus on the ways that it is, and to spend as little time in that stupid fucking Children's Home as possible. She hasn't felt like a child in a long time.
Being in school doesn't really help in that particular regard, but at least it's a bit more laid back than the normal school year would be, all people in positions similar to hers — repeating classes they didn't do well in or finishing ones they didn't have a chance to for whatever reason, making up for time lost.
At lunch, she sits out on the quad, a plate of food that she's idly picking at beside her, most of her attention on her sketchbook in her lap. She keeps to herself mostly, but when a guy she's recently started noticing around walks past, she lifts her chin and says, "I like your tattoo."
What Jules does need is a life of her own. And, yeah, that's a lot easier said than done when her life had been uprooted maybe six months before she got here and now, just after she rebuilt it, it has been again, but that, too, isn't something she wants to spend her time focusing on. Not all that long ago — weeks, really, though it feels much longer — she felt like she couldn't breathe, like the walls were closing in around her, and she got on a train, willing to leave behind everything, even the person she loves, to get away. Now she has, with no one to come drag her home this time. It should be freeing. She tries to focus on the ways that it is, and to spend as little time in that stupid fucking Children's Home as possible. She hasn't felt like a child in a long time.
Being in school doesn't really help in that particular regard, but at least it's a bit more laid back than the normal school year would be, all people in positions similar to hers — repeating classes they didn't do well in or finishing ones they didn't have a chance to for whatever reason, making up for time lost.
At lunch, she sits out on the quad, a plate of food that she's idly picking at beside her, most of her attention on her sketchbook in her lap. She keeps to herself mostly, but when a guy she's recently started noticing around walks past, she lifts her chin and says, "I like your tattoo."
