Post by gil on Nov 28, 2008 19:23:35 GMT -5
The other teachers thought he was immature, but he could care less right now. Joss Grayson, English teacher at the esteemed Eddingborough School, had papers to grade and calls to return and a chapter to finish.
What was he doing?
Why, he was hanging out of a tree, a perfectly contented smile on that young face. Kiwi, his ever-so spoiled dog, was chilling at the bottom of the tree, pink tongue wiggling up and down and eyes squinting with glee, scruffy, slightly-wiry hair catching the sun's rays ever so nicely. His bag, filled with English essays from the summer and lesson plans, lay haphazardly at the bottom of the tree, his glasses folded atop them.
It was chilly out, but both seemed rather contented. Joss had started out on one of the lower, thicker branches of the large tree, but had scuttled up father, so he was perched in one of the forks. Carefully maneuvering himself, he hooked his legs around one of the limbs and hung upside down, dark hair reaching towards the ground comically. His arms dangled, fingers outstretched as Joss heaved a sigh.
"Hi, Kiwi," He greeted cheerfully, making the dog's ears perk at hearing her own name, and then curiously pondering why exactly her human was upside down, face reddening as blood rushed into it.
He was so happy like this, acting like a five-year-old in the middle of a fancy private school, gulping deep breaths of air, which seemed to be more difficult in this precarious situation.
He was clad in simple, dark pants and a grey turtleneck, doing very little to protect him from the cold. His 'nice' shoes, bought specifically for teaching here, pointed down in an effort to keep him from concussing himself. Mismatched socks (one rainbow, one black with neon smiley faces) were no longer hidden by the convenient fit of his pants, hitting at his lack of seriousness.
Now, all he needed was a student to tree-climb with him.
What was he doing?
Why, he was hanging out of a tree, a perfectly contented smile on that young face. Kiwi, his ever-so spoiled dog, was chilling at the bottom of the tree, pink tongue wiggling up and down and eyes squinting with glee, scruffy, slightly-wiry hair catching the sun's rays ever so nicely. His bag, filled with English essays from the summer and lesson plans, lay haphazardly at the bottom of the tree, his glasses folded atop them.
It was chilly out, but both seemed rather contented. Joss had started out on one of the lower, thicker branches of the large tree, but had scuttled up father, so he was perched in one of the forks. Carefully maneuvering himself, he hooked his legs around one of the limbs and hung upside down, dark hair reaching towards the ground comically. His arms dangled, fingers outstretched as Joss heaved a sigh.
"Hi, Kiwi," He greeted cheerfully, making the dog's ears perk at hearing her own name, and then curiously pondering why exactly her human was upside down, face reddening as blood rushed into it.
He was so happy like this, acting like a five-year-old in the middle of a fancy private school, gulping deep breaths of air, which seemed to be more difficult in this precarious situation.
He was clad in simple, dark pants and a grey turtleneck, doing very little to protect him from the cold. His 'nice' shoes, bought specifically for teaching here, pointed down in an effort to keep him from concussing himself. Mismatched socks (one rainbow, one black with neon smiley faces) were no longer hidden by the convenient fit of his pants, hitting at his lack of seriousness.
Now, all he needed was a student to tree-climb with him.
