(D O N E! )Logan Moore || District S i x

I'm bulletproof, nothing to lose
Fire away, fire away
Ricochet, you take your aim
Fire away, fire away

{Appearance}
{Personality}
{History}

He stared at the much older male, at the scrawly letters on the chalkboard.

"Logan please."

The young male leaped just a bit, his heart stuttering in his chest. "Right." he murmured, staring up at the chalkboard, swallowing gingerly, his trembling fingers rising to put the white object against the jade green slate. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. He could do this, it was math. He loved math, his favorite subject- but he could feel their eyes, staring, staring, glaring. He wanted to run and hide. Why didn't Mr. Smith just have him solve the calculus at his desk? He could do that. Numbers began to swim in his mind, the Xes began to turn into ts, and the + symbols closely resembled the letter as well.

"I... I can't." he admitted, turning his back to the board, head hung. A final glance to the board confirmed his suspicions- the dyslexia as the doctors called it struck again. Sometimes, the letters and symbols all mushed together for him, and he found himself double, triple, quadruple guessing the steps he knew as he meandered back to his desk at the back. With ease, he slid into it, hands rising to ruffle through his frizzy, medium-toned brown hair. Logan detested crowds. His knee bounced as he watched Mr. Smith call on another, more adequate girl, who solved it with ease. Of course, he thought.

[/i]She had time to think it out. I was on the spot.[/i] He hated being put on the spot.

Swallowing nervously, he re-adjusted himself, and glanced up at the clock overhead. As he did so, a loud shrieking bell permeated the air, and Logan was out of the room[/color] in a flash. He prided himself on that- he was at least fast, if he wasn't smart.

No, he was smart, he just had an issue reading the problems when letters were involved. Swallowing nervously, he stepped out onto the open field they were given to wander around in, for a half hour every day. The 'Playground' fence extended just far enough he could stare down the street on most days and watch the adults pass by. Oh, how he wished he were an adult. His footsteps echoed alone around him as he walked forward, his long, lanky legs propelling him along, long arms bent only slightly with his hands shoved deep into the hidden recesses of his pockets. His form bent at the waist as he pulled himself into the wrought-iron fence, his puffy cheek pushed to the metal as he stared out to the rows of buildings.

He remained that way, still for a few moments until he heard them- he could always hear them first. Maybe if they were quieter. he thought to himself as the large, sixteen-something stepped forward, glaring down at the male. "Hey, shit for brains." he greeted, with a kick to the male's skinny thigh. "Get up."

Logan's sea green eyes clamped shut as he did as ordered. This was just another daily routine for him, another problem he couldn't seem to solve because everything swam if he stared too hard. A pair of hard hands pushed into his chest, and Logan's back hit the blackened fence. If he didn't fight it, it didn't hurt as much. He'd tried begging, he'd tried pleading, but Skylar and his gang was just too much for him to take on his own. His own father and mother believed he needed to toughen up. They couldn't believe he would ever make anything out of himself. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Again, he was shoved back into the fence, his lanky form bouncing once, twice, before he slid to the ground as a flurry of kicks began pounding themselves into his ribs. He said nothing, made no sound, simply waiting for the brutal beating to be over.

But this time, it seemed to go on longer than normal. Logan began to wonder why they picked on him this way, thinking back to what his mother, father, and older brother all said. They were jealous, in some way, each lacking what he seemed to have. Skylar had oily, pimply skin, and after sneaking a peak after a rather violent kick, he glanced at the other boys. One had extremely messy hair, one seemed to be wearing ratty clothing. Skylar's gang were just a bunch of bullies, of kids like him, praying, hoping they could make it past their 18th birthday. He knew his family detested the capitol, he could feel it bubbling at the surface of their family dinners, in the way his 18-year-old brother scowled at his university homework.

Suddenly, a fist reared up, and socked Skylar right in his pretty face. "Get the hell away from me!" Logan snarled, surprised by the depth of his voice. Usually, it rested at a gentle alto- but this was straight up baritone bass echoing through the yard. "Get away from me, and leave me the fuck alone. I'm sick of your shit, Sky!" He pounced, his hands catching the male's tender neck as they fell together, rolling, with Logan ending up on top. He slammed and shook and shook and slammed Skylar's head into the soft ground, ignoring the sore ache that rose from his foot-damaged muscles.

Sky's gang could only stare in awe as the sheepish boy pounded their leader into the ground. "...I'm telling!" one of the younger ones screamed, sprinting off to find Mr. Smith and break up the fight. The others could only watch, bewildered at the spectacle unfolding before them. Suddenly, teachers, professors frame the pair, as a final punch is executed at Sky's face, blood spurting out of the elder boy's nose, splattering across Logan's white shirt. He recoiled, glaring down as alien arms reach down to pry him away.

He relented, his form growing limp in the arms of those that hold him. He sighed, the ache hitting him harder than a train as he was half carried, half dragged towards Dr. Blackburn's office- the dean of students. His mind swam- would his parents be proud? Disappointed? Angry?

No, he doubted that. He knew what his mother would say- 'I'm proud my little boy is finally sticking up for himself!' His father, even, would admit he was slightly amazed at the boy. His chest swelled as that phone call echoed to his parents, hands attempting to smooth out the [/color]frizzy mane he sported, attempting to push down the swelling in his usually smooth cheeks. Sneaking a glance at his reflection in a picture frame, he sat stunned to see just how much damage Sky's gang did to his face. His usually firm chin seemed swollen, and pink, his normally fair complexion rosy with the effort he'd put into kicking the older boy's ass. "I look awful..." he murmured, as the door swung inside, his parents swooping down upon him, taking him home for the day.



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