Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or anything affiliated sp? wit said series.

Warnings: Eventual SasoDei, yaoi. Not in this chapter, though.

Sasori

Sasori. That's me. It said so on the card. I sat down at the corresponding desk and sighed. Yet another advanced placement test. I just wanted to get out of a stupid classroom and now they couldn't find my IQ. "It's off my charts," said Rhiannon Frances, Psy. D. when my scores were beyond the normal for a sixteen-year-old. I didn't know what Psy. D. meant; it was probably some type of degree. She said she specialized in "troubled adolescents".

She said it like I was one. What had I done to be labeled as one? All I did was blow some shit up! Wait, wait. Give me a second to calm down. I can't let myself get too agitated; otherwise I'll do something I'll regret. Like actually trying on that stupid test. Look where it got me. More psychiatrists or whatever you call them, and more tests.

I hate tests. Doesn't every teenager? And I hadn't had time to do anything this morning. My makeup was smeared yes, I'm a guy and I wear makeup. If you don't like it, you can—wait, wait. I'm not getting agitated, remember? Go die in a motherfucking hole, cocksucking dickass bitch. There, I'm not mad. It was almost as bad as my grandmother's.

I was going to fail this test. However, the last test that I had tried to fail, they had told me I got "high marks" on. They had to be lying. I would ask for the results and scoring scale to do it myself. However, now was not the time to be worrying about that. If I tried to fail the last test and got "high marks", maybe if, this time, I tried my best, I would fail. It was my last chance, or so it would seem.

After the test, my grandmother took me home. The test was at an elementary school, Heatherwood, home of the Orcas. I watched from the back window as it receded into the distance on the flat country road. She wasn't one for talk. That was a good thing, since neither was I. Our silence was a comfortable one, as silences rarely were anymore. With all of the fancy therapists the district was paying to send me too, when I didn't talk, they got uncomfortable. They would start to tell me about their families, their personal lives. In the end, I would learn more about them than they would of me.

There. We were finally home. I dragged myself up to my room, and slumped onto my bed. I had put all of my effort into that test, which had lasted four hours. I had been at my intellectual best for four hours. I could feel the right answers coming out of the much I have the right to call a mind, and there they were, right next to the letter to fill in the corresponding bubble of the multiple-choice problems. They were all multiple-choice problems.

I picked up the CD player sitting on the dresser and put on the headphones. Why all of these tests had to be on an early Sunday morning I didn't know. Laying back on the bed, I blasted the volume. Blasting my skull with Eminem, I sighed heavily. Why Eminem? He was the best white rapper there was. Period. Why rap? Well, it fit together so snugly it was like the words were meant to be together. It just flowed, like nobody was actually thinking about it, just letting the words do what they wanted to.

I saw the phone ring. Saw, not heard. I was blasting music, remember? I couldn't hear the phone if I wanted to. It was my cell phone, sitting on the bedside table. Vibrating and playing some song that Deidara had programmed it to. Deidara was the only one who bothered with my phone. I talked on it, and that was it. Deidara, however, had the It-phone. The phone that did everything, and he used it to its' full capacity.

I paused the music, pulled out one of the headphones, and opened the phone. I started talking before I brought it up to my ear. "Hello?"

"Sasori-danna, un!" I didn't know why Deidara always called me that. It was just his thing, I guess.

"Brat."

"How was the test, un?" He was still bubbly, and didn't seem to be put off in the least by my single-word response.

"Boring."

"Can you come over, un?"

"No."

He was whining now. "Why not, unnn? You always let me see you before they started talking to you, un. Are they your best friend now? Am I really not worth it, un?" Now I could hear him sniffling in to the phone, almost see the puppy-dog eyes he was giving it.

"Fine." He knew that always worked. I had a weakness for Deidara, meaning he was always in danger. One of these days, I would kill him while trying to make myself invincible by eliminating weakness. Whenever I tell him that, he gets this stubborn glint in his pretty blue eyes and pouts, pledging his eternal allegiance to me.

"Yay, un!" He actually talked like that, with the little colloquialisms that are stereotypical of a two-year-old.

"When?"

"Now, un!"

"Really, Deidara. These little parties of yours actually need planning." He was always organizing things at the last minute. To add to the long list of virtues he had yet to acquire was patience.

"But Danna, it's not 'one of my parties', un. I just wanna have my bestest friend over, is that such a problem, un?"

"No," I sighed. "I'm coming." I hung up. He hated it when I hung up on him without saying goodbye, but I saw no point in it. We both knew what was gong to be said, and it was a waste of breath.

I knew he would be pouting at the phone, maybe even letting it see him cry. He cried too much, in my opinion, but still, he was my best friend. I loved him, in a way. In a friend way. I try to help him, I really do. The only problem with that is that, ever time I try to help, every time I know I am helping him, I can never see the difference later. Maybe in a year or two he'll get better; maybe he'll always be like this. It's just his curse, I guess.