According to the standards of the Stanford-Binet test, Danyon Jobert was a genius. But because of the nature of his whirlwind mind, he often had a difficult time in school. Teachers just couldn't keep up with him, with his goals often differing wildly from the lesson plan.
In art class, for instance, Danyon depicted a bowl of fruit that included an apple with a bite in it. The teacher thought he was being funny and suggested to Danyon that he draw what had been set before him.
"That Apple represents the sin of Adam, Mr. Grosner." Explained Danyon, "The significance of which you as a Jew would know doubt be aquainted."
Mr. Grosner's mouth fell open.
"Furthermore, the bowl of fruit itself is almost a comically lazy subject for painting. The bite is no more than my Duchampian effort at disumbrationist commentary, the wry puckishness of which I thought you would appreciate. But..." Dannon studied the slackening face of his teacher, "I seem to have misfigured."
"Nevertheless," Dannon was on a roll, "By incorporating the notion of original sin within the prosaic milieu of the symbolic basket of plenty, we approach making a post-modern statement on the world-as-it-is using traditional visual idioms in a way that initially may seem bourgeoisie, but upon further consideration, actually is quite revolutionary."
"Jarvis?" Said Mr. Grosner.
"Yeah?" Said Jarvis Tate, the six-foot stack of muscle who sat in the back row and was watching barely muted porn on his phone.
"Kick his ass." Mr. Grosner pointed to Danyon.
"Last time I tried that, "snorted Jarvis, "I got put in detention for a week."
"I will give you an A, if you kick his ass." Said Mr. Grosner emphatically.
So Jarvis did, earning an A, and two weeks detention. (less)
She sniffled, refusing to lift her head from the seat of the toilet. "Last time I tried," she said, "I couldn't do it."
"You shouldn't," Zen said quickly. "Please, if you get hurt-"
"It's better than-than some other things," she said quietly.
"I know, but-please. You're my lovely princess(more). You shouldn't do it."
"You're what?" Jaehee asked, voice sharp with concern. "I can come over-"
"I'm okay," she whispered, kneeling by the porcelain seat without looking at it. "Last time I tried, Zen stopped me."
"That's good. If you want, I'm here. Talk to me."
"It's gone for now. That feeling."
"Did something happen?" Jumin asked, voice deep and comforting. "You don't sound well."
"I don't know," she mumbled. "I didn't want to be alone."
"Has this happened before?"
"Last time I tried, Jaehee answered her phone."
"Last time you tried what?"
She sniffled. "I don't want to talk about it."
"You're my other half," Seven said. "Well-the others are as well, but-"
She laughed weakly, nodding even as tears blurred her vision.
"I'm serious, though. If you get that bad again, I can...I can help, you know?"
"It's hard to explain," she said, leaning her head against the bathroom cabinet. "Last time I tried, though, Jumin was there."
"Don't you know how bad that is?" Yoosung whispered, voice sad. She felt tears well in her eyes and nodded. "Yeah. Last time I tried, Seven said to tell him when I got worse-"
"But you can't tell yourself, can you?"
She stared into the toilet bowl, quiet. His next words made her stop.
"I couldn't, either."
She sobbed, covering her mouth. "I thought I was alone," she wailed. "I thought-"
"Think about me," Yoosung said. "Last time I tried, I thought of you and the others. It helps. I promise."(less)