Vᴀɴᴅᴇʀʙɪʟᴛ Aᴄᴀᴅᴇᴍʏ Fᴏʀ Tʜᴇ Eʟɪᴛᴇ © discussion

taught by adam morales. totally the most chill class ever- beanbags nexts to desks, lots of rolling whiteboards, and a communal espresso machine because he was a barista and understands the struggle. (of being tired, not being filthy rich)

Crystal walked in, her long blond hair pulled into a tight bun to keep it out of her way, pinned up with some wildflowers. She threw off her Jacket onto a Beanbag.Under the Jacket, She was also wearing White shorts and a white lace shirt, and pulled on a grey poncho around her chest and her cold body.She smiled at the talking girls and flopped herself down on a chair and opened a her world history book quietly, not wanting to annoy anyone.


100–51 B.C.

Julius Caesar (100–44 B.C.) invades Britain (55 B.C.) and conquers Gaul (France) (c. 50 B.C.). Spartacus leads slave revolt against Rome (71 B.C.)

She quickly read the page on 100-51 BC. Crystal Maxwell noted the facts, humming quietly this tune she had in her head since the morning, as she looked back at the book she was currently studying, before blotting her quill and preparing to written another ridiculously large paragraph on this topic. This was not how any girl envisioned spending her time, but she was new and didn't have anyone to hang out with to waste time.She crossed her legs and pouted her lips bored to death.

Eli's desk was carefully placed - in the back, to avoid getting called on, and close enough to the espresso machine to get coffee but far enough away that the students who hung around the machine getting their caffeine fix didn't talk to him. He liked people, but during class he felt like a zombie. He wasn't sure what it was - having to sit in a desk for what felt like hours, or maybe having to get tested on the most boring topics in the world. Most classes were spent crafting paper airplanes and daydreaming. The teacher was cool though. Cool enough that he didn't press him whenever he didn't know something. However, he still got held back after class to have a conversation with Mr. Morales about his work ethic and his future. It wasn't just Mr. Morales, either - every teacher was set on "inspiring" him to enjoy learning. Never going to happen, he thought to himself, leaning back in his seat.

Mr. Morales walked in, nursing a cup of coffee. He took one look at Crystal- "You can shut that dusty old thing," he joked," I have rather different teaching methods." He chugged his coffee, perching on a stool at the front of the class. "Hello Eli." He noted carefully the boy's nonchalant attitude.

Clearing his throat, Mr. Morales began talking. "So, I figured, instead of going through time periods chronologically, we'd do it by class choice. So- which period do you want to start with first? Neolithic? Paleothic? Post- industrial? Shoot ideas at me, I'm ready. " He whipped out a notepad from his pocket and a chewed Ticonderoga pencil from behind his ear.

Eliana walked into the classroom, eyeing a seat right in the front of the room. She smiled cheerily at Eli, giving him a small wave.

Vanderbilt's afternoon tea time had just ended, so she carried a scone with clotted cream along with all her school things. She pulled out a fresh notebook and some perfectly sharpened pencils to take some extremely detailed notes. She also had a mini recorder- most teachers liked to lecture, but they bored her, so she recored them and played them back after class. Mr. Morales was really interesting though, so she never had to.

Neolithic, Post-industrial? Eli wondered. He'd never even heard of those before. Jesus, he needed to study. In order to be on the soccer team, he needed at least to pass this class. He waved at Eliana before reaching down into his backpack, looking for something to take notes on. Maybe if he did well on the next test, it would raise his grade. He found a soccer ball, his uniform, cleats, a broken pencil, and a crumpled up piece of paper that just said "Elijah Taylor rules" on it. Whatever. Eli resigned, taking the paper out and smoothing it on the desk. Mr. Morales was trying to be cool, as per usual. Maybe, though, he would just leave Eli alone this time.

Mr. Morales caught Eli's eye. "Any opinions?" He asked, then gestured at the class as a whole. "The world, quite literally, is at your fingertips! Come on class!" Mr. Morales was honestly the slightest bit annoyed- he was, most of the time, extremely lenient. These kids didn't care, not one bit about their educations (excluding scholarship kids who worked their butts off), but with all the inherited fortunes, they wouldn't have to ever work for a single cent, so why would they care? Frustrated at the no caring attitude of his rich students, he clenched his coffee cup a little bit tighter.

Eliana raised her hand tentatively, unsure if Mr. Morales wanted to hear her answer. "Um- could we start at the most modern time period? Post- industrial preferably? And since they say history is written by the winner, could we view from the side of the 'loser'?"

Crysta looked up from her book,she was engrossed in this book. She had learnt more than she wanted waiting for the teacher. She looked up and whispered a sorry before stating"Yeah umm Post Industrial would be good, have you studied anything else, Im new so im trying to catch up"She said blushing slightly. Crystal was sometimes very eager to learn, she is something of a genius, with high GPA range than most adults. However,she got bored really quickly and liked to learn more in depth at home. Studying could sometime become her hobby. Se looked around the classroom,taking in the pupils just entered. Crystal gave them a massive grin and a slight wave. Winning the scholarship was no big deal for her, it was just too easy she thought.

Eli wrote Post-Industrial at the top of his paper, but got distracted doodling stars all over the paper. He ignored Mr. Morales, leaving the answers to people like Eliana or Crystal who probably wanted to participate. It was probably a scholarship kid's dream to choose the class topic. Good for them. Scholarship kids had an air about them anyway, a "I'm smarter than you because I worked to get here" kind of attitude. Everyone had a sense of superiority at Vanderbilt. The rich kids got it from their wealth, the scholarship kids got it from their smarts...although nobody wanted to be friends with scholarship kids. He had to be honest there.

Mr. Morales nodded at Crystal. "Post- industrial it is." He decided with an air of nonchalance, wondering what they would do next. "I guess we'll start with the Industrial Revolution in Britain. For homework, you should read pages 579-682 making notes of the key terms. It's pretty light, and after Christmas, I want to ease you back in. Next week, however, I expect a riveting powerpoint on how the Industrial Revolution affects us today." Mr. Morales was pleased with his assignment- reading a couple pages and a powerpoint? Easy! "And next class, we'll play Jeopardy based off of your reading." Satisfied, he walked back to his desk to take attendance, shaking his head at the three or so students who never joined.

Eliana looked over her shoulder at Eli, who was doodling something. "Taking doodles has been shown to be a sign of creativity and may improve attention." She told him with a smile, turned around in her seat. She wasn't a scholarship student, but she valued education, even if she was at Vanderbilt based off of her art talent and her ability to pay the outrageous sums of money for tuition. She just could not understand people who threw away some of the best educations in the world.

She turned back around, making a careful note of the assignment in her planner. She looked at the other girl- what was her name? Christy? Krista?

Eliana shrugged her shoulders, she pulled out her textbook and began reading. She had figured Eli would've been a good student, but she guessed it was a miracle he even came to class, much less than actually learn.

Eli's eyes narrowed to focus on Eliana. Doodling helps improve attention? he echoed in his mind. Huh. He drew a crude stick figure girl high-fiving a stick figure boy and passed it to Eliana silently. Ah, another scrap of paper was drifting on the floor. He picked it up and wrote "579-682," "powerpoint," and "Industrial Revolution" down. This was the most he had ever done for a class in his entire high school career. It truly wasn't fair. Some of the other teachers just tossed him a passing grade because they wanted to keep up the school's sports reputation. But not Mr. Morales. Even after Eli told him he was on the soccer team, the teacher didn't even care! He had started talking about how that would be "unfair" to the other students, et cetera, et cetera. Whatever. Eli took a sip of his coffee.

Eliana grabbed the little scrap of paper Eli had tossed her way, grinning. She viewed the stick figures, very rudimentary, but the sentiment was there. She drew a small, encouraging happy emoji face on the back, next to the words study and handed it back. She knew Eli had potential, no matter how cheesy that sounded. She felt like Eli could be a potential friend- nothing like spending free time in an abandoned room to make a friendship blossom, hm? She pulled out her laptop to begin working on her powerpoint, finding a couple of sites to begin with.

Seeing the student's pass notes, Mr. Morales rolled his eyes, muttering," Que lástima." under his breath as he sent attendance to the office. "Further powerpoint information may be found on my website, and, seeing as this is a project grade, 30% of your grade, I would certainly step it up Elijah." He gave Eli a sharp look. He fell onto a plush beanbag at the front of the room, putting a short video on about the Industrial Revolution as he ate a ghorriba- delicous Morrocan biscuits flavored with anise and sesame seeds. "Crystal," Mr. Morales said," I know how interesting the textbook is, but please watch the video. There will plenty of time at the end of class to do independent work." His tone was quite sarcastic- who liked to read textbooks when you could watch a video? He shook his head.

"Thanks, sir." Eli said as a generic, monotone response. He unfolded the paper Eliana had given him and smiled slightly. Then he noticed the word "study" and his smile vanished. Her, too? Everyone seemed to want him to work harder in school. Eli didn't have his history textbook, or his computer, so he decided he couldn't do anything. He took off his regular shoes and slipped on his cleats, tying them tightly. He zipped up his backpack and walked over to Mr. Morales. "Can I go to the bathroom?" he asked, intending to skip the bathroom and head straight to the field to practice.

"Diós mio Eli, you think I have bricks for a brain?" Mr. Morales responded. Standing up he said," I know you have every intention of skipping this class, and right now, we're learning." Adam's leniency wore off, he was sick of these rich kids just cruising through school on teacher's good graces. Adam was usually calm- very calm, and understanding of his students. He was fed up with Elijah Taylor and his antics, and he wouldn't get away this time. Sure, Eli could walk out the door, and never return, but Adam would make sure he didn't slip out of a punishment- fail World History, and no more soccer. Mr. Morales kept the ultimatum in the back of his head as he prepared for a reaction.

Eliana, pulled away from watching the screen by the mini commotion, watched as Eli gathered his things to leave. She saw her crumpled up note on the ground, the writing smudged. Glancing at Mr. Morales' and Eli's conversation, she went back to watching the video, and it seemed like the other person in the class hadn't even noticed, enraptured with the video. She felt a sense of duty to get Elijah back on track, but it wasn't her place, and she hated conflicts.

Eli decided it best not to answer that question, but he still had to explain himself. "I don't have my books n' stuff." he said, shifting his weight. "Plus, I don't even know what a Post-Industrial is, so I thought I'd at least do something productive with my time, Mr. Omugọ Obinrin." There. If Mr. Morales could speak Spanish, then he could certainly speak Yoruba. He knew what Mr. Morales thought of him - a boneheaded jock who only cared about sports. "If you want the honest answer, olukọ, it's that it is a whole lot easier to pretend I don't know the answer than to try and get it wrong. And a whole lot less embarassing. Nobody expects me to get any questions correct, anyway. None of the teachers think I'm an Albert Einstein or anything. And I'm fine with that. I'd prefer if you thought me an idiot, anyway. It'd make the class experience go much faster. E dupe

Mr. Morales held his fiery tongue as Eli spoke, and even insulted him. "Eli," he replied rationally," Perhaps you'd know what post-industrial is if you sat down and observed the video, or watched some of the links I post on my page. I know you hate lectures, so I don't do those." Mr. Morales knew Eli was better than some slacking soccer player who didn't care, if only there was a way to relate sports to soccer! "Eli, you'll fail this class if you don't do this project. You're barely passing- and a less than perfect powerpoint would push you into failing, not to mention the fact that you don't even bother to try. Elijah, I know you can be a good student." Mr. Morales had faith in all his students. "Eli, I was never a good student until my sophomore year of high school, when I finally got my act together and actually got accepted to a good college. All it takes is hard work, I know you have it in you. And you have all the resources before you: teachers, classmates, copious amounts of money."

Wringing her hands under the table, Eliana listened to the conversation. She wrinkled her forehead, but hearing Eli just degrade the teacher was the straw that broke the camel's back. "Sit back down- please," she pleaded," There's only a short bit of class left anyway!"

"Huh." Eli said, shifting his weight. He looked at Mr. Morales up and down for a full minute. Then he walked away, grabbed a desk in the front row, and pulled it right up to Mr. Morales's beanbag. He turned back around, took a textbook from one of the smaller students, and handed it to Mr. Morales before taking a seat in the desk. He leaned over and tapped the book. "So where's the part about the industry?" he asked, pulling the crumpled up piece of paper out of his pocket. "I...uh. I want to not fail, 'cause I'm a starter this year and we got a big game coming up. Also, Baba would kick my ass. Also, if I repeat this school year, that would suck." He didn't apologize, because he didn't want to at all, but he gave Mr. Morales this, at least. An olive branch.

Mr. Morales returned the stolen textbook, taking the one from under Eli's desk. He turned the lights back on, and walked to one of the rolling whiteboards. He rapped his knuckles on the board, showcasing the homework. "Why don't you start by checking pages 579-562 and taking notes of key terms? Then maybe I can help you with what you can't grasp." He put the textbook on Eli's desk, grabbing a fresh shot of espresso for the both of them. Mr. Morales saw that Eli was making an effort, and thus softened his attitude back to his chill demeanor. He plopped back onto his beanbag, seeing the class hard at work, for once. "Fácil, correcto?" He called out.

Eliana was slightly pleased Elijah had finally decided to learn, and she leaned over. "If you ever need help, I'm sure we can study together." It was a bit of a stretch- Eli probably had soccer and Eliana already a firm grasp of the subject. Eliana settled back into her cushy seat, and resumed dragging pictures into her powerpoint so she wouldn't have homework. "Sí!" She replied to Mr. Morales.

Eli flipped through the pages with the full intention of buckling down and paying attention...until he got distracted by some pictures. First he saw a picture of a paper mill, which made him wonder how many pages of paper were in this history textbook (1455 pages, plus an appendix), which made him wonder how many trees had had to be cut down in order to make one book. He started taking furious notes, which would have been a good thing if they were actually about the Post-Industrial period. But they were about trees. And from trees his mind moved on to lumberjacks, and how long it took to grow a beard. He heard Eliana's voice, which only half-registered in his brain. "Yeah...study..." he mumbled, staring at Mr. Morales's face. Did he shave? Was shaving an everyday activity? His brow furrowed in concentration.

"Ti o ba ti a irungbọn dagba a centimeter gbogbo ọjọ, bi o gun yoo o ya lati dagba marun inches gun??" he wondered aloud in a low voice, making sure to speak in Yoruba so nobody could say he wasn't studying. If a beard grows a centimeter every day, how long would it take to grow five inches?

Eliana turned away from Eli, rolling her eyes. Let him fail the class, she thought, I won't help him. She looked over when he started muttering again- the start of a mental breakdown? She shook her head, returning to her work.

Mr. Morales stared at Eli quizzically when he started speaking Yoruba. "Focus." He replied calmly, gesturing at the textbook.

"Sorry." Eli replied. He wanted to do well in this class, and he was truly trying, but focusing in class always evaded him. He could focus in a game, or with his friends, or watching a movie. He looked up. "Mr. Morales, do you have a movie about the Post-Industrial era? Because, um, the visuals would help. And the sound."

Mr. Morales spoke with the deepest of sarcasm. "Wow Eli, if only I had thought about that at the beginning of class- wait, I did!" He gave a great big sigh, walking over to his computer to re-play the video. These kids, always acting like he would bend over backwards, which he usually did. He pulled out his phone to play Super Mario Run, absentmindedly listening to the video.

"Oh, cool." Eli said, and started doodling a castle on a piece of paper, which he passed to Eliana. He dutifully watched the video, which helped in a way. The narrator had weird glasses and spoke like he had a stuffy nose, which captured his attention. The information half-stuck in his mind, but it was better than nothing. After the video ended, Eli looked at Mr. Morales. "Did you see the guy's glasses?"

Ramone should probably have set his alarm. It might have prevented him walking in as late as he did. Hair still wet from his rushed shower, he tentatively opened the door. While people would see the fresh face of a pretty young girl, they'd really be staring down an out of breath Giagos as he glanced up at the clock.

[ don't know if this is still going but i'm just going to post! ]

It wasn't really that hard to get up in the morning and get ready for class. But still, it was somehow impossible for Willa to get ready. Her hair was already falling out of the bun she had tied her hair into, and she was practically wearing pajamas. She apologized to the teacher for being late and grabbed a cup of espresso, which she should have done before she ever left her dorm. As she pulled her notebook and textbook out she drank her espresso, the warm, bitter taste warming her. Looking to the board she found the classwork to be done, and she opened her textbook and began reading.

"Willa. Ramone. Tsk tsk." Mr. Morales reprimanded, crossing his arms. "Even Eli showed up on time." He said, giving Willa a disappointed look. "I can see you both are already hard at work, so I'll let it slide, but not next time." Mr. Morales walked over to the espresso machine, and made himself a latte.

Eli's head shot up. "'Even Eli?'" he paused for a moment, then shrugged. "Eh. It is true." He glanced at the two new arrivals and almost choked on his coffee. Why was everyone at this school so...good-looking? He definitely couldn't focus now - this was much more important than dead historical figures and old events about the...Industrial...something. He waved at both of them, perhaps too enthusiastically.

"Eli!" Mr. Morales scolded," Back to work! Vamos!" A bit of his latte flew from his cup, splattering a nearby desk. He gave a dejected sigh, sopping the spill up with tissues. "Ramone, Willa, we're covering the Industrial Revolution. We also have a project due next week."

Eli's eyes went back to his book. Ramone and Willa. he thought, trying to distinguish which was which without looking up. He'd only caught a quick glance, but he supposed Ramone was the first person who'd walked in, since Mr. Morales had said "Ramone" first. And Willa had looked somewhat familiar - he'd seen Willa around before, probably.

"Perdon," Ramone breathed, expression sheepish. He raked his hands through his damp hair, taking a clip from is pocket to hold a section of it back. It'd get in the way of him paying attention if he could toy with it. Great; a project to be done in a week. He could probably work that somehow. He'd probably procrastinate again, though, he'd have to fight that urge.

Eli put his head in his hands and watched Ramone. He had a passing thought of what it would be like to have long hair himself, but it left his mind as quickly as it came. He was mostly distracted by...well...Ramone. Eli was completely awful at flirting of any kind, and he didn't have the guts to actually go over and talk to anyone, so he just sat at his desk and attempted to re-read the chapter about Industrialization.

Ramone could feel eyes on him. It was something he was used to, but his reaction never changed. He looked up from his textbook, lips pressed together. His gaze was heavy-lidded as he locked onto Eli looking back at his textbook. So he'd been the one. Well, then, Ramone supposed he'd just stare until he looked up again. The textbook wasn't going anywhere.

Willa didn't care about her grades. She already knew she was smart enough to live as an adult, she didn't need a 4.0 gpa to prove it. Whenever she returned to her home in upstate New York, mainly, if not always, on holidays, her mother badgered her about her grades. That's what she liked about boarding school. There was nobody standing over her shoulder, telling her what she should do and what not to do. She didn't even have to do her work if she didn't want to. Even with barely caring, Willa got by with a solid B+ in whatever class she took. Instead of reading the chapter, Willa flipped to the last page of The Industrial Period and found the little summary on the main terms. She understood most of it-she was taking history, not math or english where the rules varied. Was the new project going to cover this chapter or the previous one? Projects were surprisingly her favorite part of class, besides the beanbags and espresso. She got to express a little bit of herself every time, whether it was through art or writing. Sipping her coffee as she raised her hand, Willa asked, "Mr. Morales, what's the project going to cover?"

Eli flipped a page and glanced up at the clock. This class was taking forever. His gaze fell down to his book when it was suddenly caught by Ramone's stare. He jumped involuntarily. Eli looked away immediately, then came back, giving Ramone an apologetic half-smile. At least he had good intentions, right? It wasn't like he was trying to be rude or anything. Say something, you idiot. Eli thought, but his mouth turned dry. Now was the time he was going to betray himself?

It probably would have been wise to ask the same question as Willa, but Ramone was just a little busy staring down a now flustered Eli down. One brow raised, he continued to look over at the boy. He looked like he wanted to say something, but wouldn't. Or maybe he just didn't know. "Let's make one thing clear," he stated, voice a few octaves higher than normal before dropping back to his usual octave--a fairly deep tenor tone that was decidedly suited for a boy, "I'm a dude."

Eli's brow furrowed. Was that what Ramone thought Eli was wondering? What he was wondering now, though, was how many people asked Ramone that on a daily basis. It probably got annoying after a while. People were stupid sometimes. But Eli wasn't worrying about whether Ramone was a dude at all. He got up, picked up his desk, and dragged it next to Ramone's. "Hi." he said.

So that cleared up something. "Hi." He glanced away for a moment before looking back. "Something you need help with?" He'd never been good at picking up on when someone wanted to flirt. Unless this wasn't one of those situations. It was hard to tell with the way he looked and the way most people reacted to it. Like he was some sort of oddity.

Pick-up lines didn't work when Eli was saying them. They came out all cheesy and gross-sounding, so he decided to be honest. "You're cute." he said, then scooted his desk back like he'd just thrown off a grenade and wanted to get some distance before the explosion hit. He made sure he was out of hitting distance, too. Some people just didn't like compliments. "So I guess I don't have anything I need help with, 'cause I'm going to be distracted for the rest of class."

"You need a Powerpoint on how the Industrial Revolution affects us today, that will make the class actually engaged in learning." Mr. Morales told Willa. He threw the wet tissues into the class, wondering how all the students cared so little-- was the tuition just pocket change to them? The million dollar fee it cost to attend, was it about the same as a latte to them? He sat down at his desk, watching Eli and Ramone chat. "Focus!" He called out to the class.

"Thanks?" Ramone had heard plenty of compliments, though not delivered so directly. "Sorry?" He noticed the way Eli had scooted back, but didn't say anything. Ramone hadn't ever thought himself to be that distracting. His tapping the rings on his fingers against his desk as he looked back at his textbook. The Industrial Revolution wasn't his forte, but he could at least get through the presentation. He didn't do well in class settings. is gaze flitted back up to Eli, then the expresso machine. Despite how long he'd been here at Vanderbilt, there were still things he wasn't used to. Most of his peers were wealthy and famous and he was fortunate enough to even have pocket money. Pocket money that definitely wasn't the same as some of his classmates. They probably had black cards or whatever they were called at their disposal. He looked away from the machine and back to his textbook, tucking one leg under him as he leaned forward to try to focus.

"Um. Oh." Eli couldn't think of what to say. Ramone's posture had changed, seemed more...closed off. All he'd said was that he was cute - was there something wrong with that? Oh, what if he absolutely hates people calling him cute, or he was already seeing someone? Either way, Eli didn't want to seem like a creep in class. He waved a hand to Mr. Morales. "I don't know if you thought I was being weird. Probably, yes. I'm not good at...talking. Well, I'm good at talking, just not when I'm nervous. But. Uh. You seem cool, and I would like to get to know you. You know, like take you out. But not kill you! Not like that, no. Like...food." This was a disaster.

The blond-haired boy would easily admit that his English comprehension wasn't on the same level as his speaking just yet, but he was pretty sure Eli had just spoken English. He blinked, letting his words sink in as he looked up once more. All he got out of that was food. "Are you asking me out on a date or something," he asked, brows furrowed. He's wasn't too sure he'd interpreted that right.

Eli nodded vigorously. "Yes. Yes." he leaned so far forward he was almost tipping the desk over. "Unless you don't want to." His book fell to the ground with a thump but he let it sit there. Some students glanced over at the source of the noise so Eli just glared at them until they looked away. He looked back at Ramone, his eyes intent on that face.

Mr. Morales wasn't exactly listening in on Eli and Ramone's conversation per say, it was just loud enough to where he could hear it. He let out a little snort when Eli stumbled when he flirted-- for someone who was such a bigshot on the field, he was pretty clumsy with words in the classroom. He turned to the rest of the class, and seeing that they were all working hard, he tossed out some lollipops. "Continue working!" He smiled, returning to writing up a new lesson plan.

Class wasn't Adelaide's favorite thing about school at all, but she was certain she liked it more than any student at Vanderbilt. She at least made it a goal to get higher than a eighty five on any work she did in any class, but most students barely learned anything and just let their parents pay to raise their grades. Her parents had actually offered to do that on the one single occasion she had made below an eighty five on an assignment, but she had convinced them it was fine. Looking around the classroom, it was obvious nobody cared about learning. She counted three people painting their nails, five on their phones, and one person flirting. His name's Eli, right? Adelaide thought. It wasn't that she couldn't remember names, she had just never cared to remember them. She couldn't see who he was flirting to, because of a tall person sitting in front of her. Well, relatively tall, compared to her. Adelaide attempted to discreetly move her desk to see who it was, but her open pencil bag, notebook, and the Introduction to Industrialization came toppling down onto the person in front of her. Oh well, so much for being discreet. "I'm so sorry!" Adelaide exclaimed.

Class was bland. It always was, and each class was a boring repetitive cycle she was forced into because of stupid educational rules. Of course, she never actually did anything in class. Elisabeth was a princess, and sure, her education mattered, though she, quite frankly, didn't care. She listened maybe ten percent of the time, usually less, and just random words from the lesson sticking out and making a jumbled lesson in her mind. She didn't really care since her parents honestly could pay millions to get her grades raised for the sake of looking good, though her teachers were cheap so they didn't even have to pay all that much. Teachers at Vanderbilt truly earned a lot from all the parent donations. Most students were spending the class painting their nails, on their phones, or listening to gossip, and Elisabeth was just on her phone, casually listening to some gossip. She listened to a boy flirt, smirking, though her attention was disrupted with books toppling down in front of her. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "It's fine, I guess." She looked at the girl for a few seconds, quirking her brow, "Who are you?"

Ramone had been narrowly missed by a lollipop thrown into the desk area. It distracted him long enough to sort of interrupt his train of thought. A date wasn't totally possible at the moment, but not completely off the table. But telling Eli this might get his hopes up. Plus, Ramone wasn't one to date, per say. Hanging out, he could do, but an actual date? He'd likely throw up from nerves. It'd be worse than that time he'd eaten too much chocolate and sang shortly thereafter. The front row wasn't exactly pleased with his performance. He'd picked up the projectile lollipop as he began his answer, stopping as yet another person dropped their books. Seriously?

"Not a date, but something else, maybe?" Was that wrong to suggest? He hoped it wasn't.

Chloé strut into the room, her glossy lips reflevting every light source like a disco ball. She paused for dramatic effect in the doorway, before heading to the back of the class where she pulled out a pack of bubblegum and began to send some rapid fire texts. She didn't even take off her sunglasses or steady her swinging earrings-- talk about about oblivious. Her chai latte almost spilled too; before she caught it with cat like precision.

Eli watched him, keeping his face guarded. If it took this long for Ramone to make a decision...it wasn't looking too good. Rejection was an old friend of his, and he felt an itch to go outside, go to the gym, and exercise mindlessly for an hour or three. Perhaps it was for the best. If he went on an actual date, he'd probably throw up from nerves. He used to throw up before soccer games when he was a little kid before his father told him to just suck it up. Eli was shaken from his thoughts at the sound of books clattering to the ground. He looked at Ramone. "Like what?" he asked.