Bully: Reunion Threading

Those few steps up the walk were the longest steps Derby had ever ascended. It took him a full thirty seconds to mull over what had just happened, reassuring himself that everything he had done was perfect and it would end perfectly as well, because he knew Bif wasn't that stubborn. He always gave in eventually. But he could not shake the feeling that that weird sensation... that tingling sour... was that... uncertainty?

Couldn't be. It was probably just the bourbon. Damned cheap bourbon. No one could ever be relied upon to do even the simplest thing right.

Mrs. Danvers-Crabblesnitch was waiting, of course, standing at the top of the stairs and waving her hand around in front of her face as if she was trying to make it ever so clear she had nearly fainted.

"There you are!" she squawked, now waving both hands at Derby in indication that he needed to go inside. Now. "I was worried that--"

"Everything is fine." Derby said dismissively. He lifted his chin and walked past her without looking at her, as if she were as insignificant as the lady who washed his socks. Danvers squinted her eyes a little at that, but not wanting to distress the evening any further, let it go. She hurried forth as well, crossing the commons to the stairs where a podium had been erected for Derby and the other speakers to stand upon. Seth Kolbe was there now, rambling on something about the army and responsibility and discipline and who-the-hell cared. Nobody looked amused, anyway. Was anyone even listening.

Danvers practically kicked him off the stage. He wasn't going to pay a small fortune to build new classrooms. Kolbe looked surprised, and growled something to Danvers, who hardly paid attention.

"Thank you, Mr. Kolbe!" she said, clapping her hands together a couple of hurried times. "You are truly an inspiration to those of us who see ourselves with a future in the military. Our next speaker is our very own of the graduating class of 2000, Mr. Derby Harrington!"

Everyone was expected to applaud, Danvers said silently as she stared at the crowd, stepping off to the side. Derby glanced shortly at Tad, setting his jaw. Well, here went nothing. Really. Nothing.

He stepped up to the podium with grace, giving the edges of his suit jacket a jaunty tug as he went, and putting on a platinum "publicity" smile. From somewhere he thought he felt the burn of a flashbulb rake over his retinas. Whoever had the camera was a moron for blinding him, but that'd be dealt with later.

"Thank you, Mrs. Danvers-Crabblesnitch." he said formally into the microphone, his voice well-composed. He could do this in his sleep. "And thank you, my peers, for coming to this fine gathering."

"We have all, no doubt, encountered the myriad responses given to those who graduate from this institution: the rigorous curriculum--"

Because now we all know that the primary vocabulary word in the letter jumble "THFSGI" is "shit", courtesy of Mr. Galloway.

"The competitive and talented extra-curricular activities--"

Like panty sniffing, a la Mr. Burton.

"And the powerful sense of community our beautiful village provides."

In between the vandalism, molestations, and burglaries.

"But the one thing that I have most often cited when answering the question of what an education at Bullworth Academy as afforded me--"