Delaney Kermit Erskine Hammond (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
edgeofyourseat) wrote2012-07-10 09:09 pm
edgeofyourseat) wrote2012-07-10 09:09 pm
no way to breathe easy, no time to be young
It's something like the second week of school, and something like the second month that the Hammond family (father, mother, son, assorted house staff) has lived in Sunnydale.
He expected Dad would hear about it, and he expected he'd catch hell, and both of those things happened. What he didn't expect was the part where they packed up and moved to a tiny California town (with a really surprising number of unoccupied mansions for its population). Delaney Hammond Sr didn't even explain his reasoning, not that his wayward son was dumb enough to ask. Somehow, though, moving to the opposite corner of the country is supposed to make all of Delaney Jr's problems disappear.
Yeah, it's not working that way.
Right now, for example, he is meant to be in class. He doesn't even know what class. Where he is is outside in the schoolyard, leaning against a tree, watching the afternoon sun through the leaves and playing with a lighter in his lap. Flick, flick. It's relaxing.
He expected Dad would hear about it, and he expected he'd catch hell, and both of those things happened. What he didn't expect was the part where they packed up and moved to a tiny California town (with a really surprising number of unoccupied mansions for its population). Delaney Hammond Sr didn't even explain his reasoning, not that his wayward son was dumb enough to ask. Somehow, though, moving to the opposite corner of the country is supposed to make all of Delaney Jr's problems disappear.
Yeah, it's not working that way.
Right now, for example, he is meant to be in class. He doesn't even know what class. Where he is is outside in the schoolyard, leaning against a tree, watching the afternoon sun through the leaves and playing with a lighter in his lap. Flick, flick. It's relaxing.
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Not really.
She has a sick note from Bill, though. A phone-ahead-and-say-she's-sick sort of note, that gave her time to accompany him on bringing a little daylight to a nest. Now she's back in school, but she doesn't feel like going to class.
There's a kid hanging outside a school building. She drops her book bag unceremoniously at the base of a wall a few yards away, and sticks herself on top of the wall, with a book on Constable.
What? she's not missing art
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Any more than she's been doing so, anyway. There's that way she sits and looks at a book but with eyes that flick up and wander everywhere. This doesn't change.
She doesn't look up from her book. But she does raise two of her right fingers in a return wave.
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Flick, flick.
"Whatcha readin'?" he asks. Soft voice, Brooklyn accent. Distant tone, like he is thinking about something else.
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"It's not for class or anythin'."
Her voice is course, her accent Liverpudlian and thick, exaggerated tonality. It's possible she deliberately keeps it thick because she hates California.
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"Well, good."
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Whatever on that. It's not something she cares about.
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Reflectively: "Hamlet wasn't bad, though."
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Senior would probably shit himself with joy at the thought of his son getting a little culture. Makes it easy to arrange.
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Nope. Definitely gonna see the play. Why not, after all? He can.
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She hasn't made up her mind about this school yet. And she's definitely not sure about boys.
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Yes, it's probably showing somewhere, but also - that could be a long way to go for a play.
And seriously? Just ask Daddy and he'll take you? Kids at this fucking school.
Leah is still getting used to having an actual parent she can actually ask things from. The book is one of Bill's.
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"Hope it's a good one."
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She gives him space as she does. But well, she does that to everyone.
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