fandomhigh | Practical Philosophy, Monday

It was downright balmy out today, which frankly was a first for Ender's class - he was more used to having to watch the skies for sudden attacks of rainstorms or the like. Not that that ever stopped him, but still: it was nice not to have to worry about.

He walked in and sat down when everyone had settled, putting the bag of sandwiches down in the middle of the group. "So," he said. "Last Friday, most of us encountered an old Fandom classic - bursting into song whether we like it or not. Usually not."

He stretched out his legs. "Now there's a lot of discussion about art, expression, of which music is a part. Many have argued that a well-developed civilization needs art, to get people to better themselves - the paternalistic approach - or because expression is a fundamental part of human nature. It is, I suppose: we all express ourselves in our own ways, whether it be through song or painting or macaroni sculptures."

Ender paused, looking wry. "Of course," he said, "You could argue that what happened last Friday was more a 'spewing forth', an unpleasant regurgitation of your or someone else's expression that you didn't intend and didn't ask for. Is it still self-expression when it's done at metaphorical gunpoint? And something that I wondered about - is there a point to doing it, voluntarily or not, in front of someone you've already shared yourself with? Or is it freeing to just... sing out what's on your mind, without social filters, but with an easy excuse to blame it on?"

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"Around you?" Kathy looked at Sparkle like he was crazy. Or maybe just stupid. "What is it about everyone feeling like a normal sense of disbelief is somehow a slur on their honesty?"

Vic had done the same during the picnic.

"My two options are that either a human being turned into a lion cub with, like, magic or something, or that you're allowed to have an endangered and really expensive animal kept in your dorm room. Neither of these options make a ton of sense!"

Sparkle waved a dismissive hand.

"I wasn't taking it was a slur," he replied. "You said yourself you didn't know if I was messing with you, that's kinda personal, sweetheart. What I was saying is that I do fuck with people. All the time. For shits and giggles. You'll get used to that. Or you won't."

See? Wasn't it good to have it clarified?

"So, for all you know, I could totally be fucking with your head right now. Or this place is completely fucked up. There are your options."

"I would have said that to anyone telling me their pet lion cub is actually a person," Kathy pointed out. "It wasn't personal."

Now, though, with him freely admitting he liked to mess with people's heads, it was a little more personal.

"Normally, I'd be saying that you had to be fucking with me, but then, I spent Friday singing against my will. So I don't even know anymore."

"And there's where I go, welcome to the island," Sparkle replied with a shrug. "Again. I hate this place, you know. I mean, that weekend that I spent with tits wasn't too bad, whatever, but then there was the one where I was a box of soap. And a little kid. And, sure, I make an adorable little kid, but running around this place alone? People are lucky I didn't spend the weekend kicking strange adults in the crotch and running away."

He'd totally filched things from the common rooms, though.

"There are days when this place is even mostly normal. And then there are days where your roommate turns into a fucking lion cub, or the phones get all screwed up and everyone's voicemails go the wrong way, or whatever. I'll be happy to go back to the home if it means I don't have to be here, even if some of the weird shit apparently follows you wherever you go."

Kathy tried to keep track of all the things he'd mentioned, from tits to children to being a box of soap. Surely some of these things were just him seeing what he could get away with...right?

"So, why don't you go home?" she asked. "What's keeping you here?"

"This is my penance for being a lying, thieving sack of shit back in Toronto," Sparkle replied with an easy shrug of his shoulders. "Lewis, the guy that runs the group home I'm currently under the care of, was at wit's end. Decided, hey, if I'm at some boarding school in America, they probably have... I dunno, a better way to keep their eye on problem students like me."

He reached out and hauled Ulrik back as the little guy made another bid for freedom.

"He was half right. It's hard as hell to get in trouble around here, I should know, I've tried. But people hand out employment around here like bubblegum cards. I don't get it."

Kathy didn't quite follow the transition from trouble to employment, but she nodded anyway. "Okay, sooo...what's stopping you from mending your ways and going back? Like, you're Mr. Wiggin's TA. That should probably impress your, umm, group home runner?"

She had no idea what Lewis's title would be.

"I've kept my nose clean, so far as everything's legally concerned, for like a year," Sparkle replied, wrinkling his nose. "The worst I got for trying to steal anything is a detention. I had to run around in the mud for most of a Saturday. Lewis is pleased with how much progress I'm making. Figures this stupid island is better for me. Plus..."

He shrugged his shoulders.

"It's one less mouth to feed, one less kid to keep an eye on, and things get complicated when I'm around." In ways he wasn't going to discuss here, with anyone. "I'm stuck for it."

"At least you're not crazy," Kathy said. "Glad to see that there's at least one other person here who thinks that this island is just as messed up as it seems."

"Oh, trust me," Sparkle intoned, hauling Ulrik back into his lap again, "I've seen how messed up it can be, first-hand. I would like nothing more than to get the hell out of here before it kills me or breaks me in, but getting outta here isn't as simple as calling home to cry to Lew."

Practical Philosophy, Monday

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