Author's note:

Hey, guess what? Warning for references to homosexual activity! Oh noes! FLEE WHILE YOU STILL CAN!

Unlike some of his colleagues, there were times when Lionel Galloway really, genuinely loved his job. Teaching was hard work, yes, but it could also be extremely satisfying. Watching students gaining an enthusiasm for learning, reading the occasional fantastic essay, being able to observe unruly pupils grow up to be functioning members of society with real promise... All those things were very rewarding.

Chaperoning field trips, however, was not. Particularly when the aforementioned trip was going to take up his entire weekend. It was moments like this that made him remember why he'd started drinking.

Camping. He didn't even like camping! Come on - he was hardly the most outdoorsy faculty member in Bullworth Academy, for heaven's sake. The only reason he'd been nominated to be the chaperone for the camping trip was that he'd been the only member of staff stupid enough to admit that he had experience of it. Once. When he was five years old. And now here he was, standing at the edge of a field and in charge of two crammed bus-loads of pupils.

He'd be dead by Monday.

"Come along, everyone. Off the bus, please. Quickly, now..." Mr. Galloway ticked the students' names off his register as they filed off the vehicle. "Careful with that bag, Miss Wiles... Yes, just line up over there. Hey! Hey! Troy Miller, let go of Sheldon this instant! Thank you. This way... Pick up the pace, please."

As he ticked the last name off his list, Mr. Galloway glanced over towards the other bus where Ms. Peabody was busy checking names off her own register. Well, at least he wasn't going to be the only faculty member here this weekend - that was something. Ms. Peabody terrified him, sure, but having her here was still preferable to doing this all by himself.

He still had to force himself not to just leap back onto one of the buses and drive away to freedom, though.

"Er, can I have everyone's attention, please?" Mr. Galloway clapped his hands together loudly. "Thanks. Well, uh, here we are. The campsite. It looks great, huh?" He laughed hesitantly, hoping he didn't sound as nervous as he felt. Bullworth students could smell fear. "I hope you're all happy with it, anyway, seeing as this is where we'll all be spending the next couple of nights."

A mocking voice called out from the crowd. "Dibs on not sharing a tent with Hopkins. He might try and hump my leg or something."

"Shut the hell up, Gary!"

"Hit a little close to home there, Jimmy-boy?"

"C'mere, you jerk!"

"Just settle down, please..." Mr. Galloway sighed. They'd not been here five minutes and already he was losing control of the situation. Fantastic. Luckily, Jimmy ceased his pursuit of Gary and calmed down quickly. "Uh, thanks. Much better. Now, er, you'll all find instructions and materials for setting up your tents over there. It'd be best to get started on that as soon as possible so we can make sure everyone is finished by nightfall. I advise you all not to make camp near the lake. Oh, and only two people per tent, please."

Ms. Peabody took the opportunity to glower beadily at the assembled students. "And that's single-sex tents only, children! There will be no hanky-panky on this trip!"

The mass eye-rolling that followed this statement was not lost on Mr. Galloway, though his colleague seemed to be blissfully oblivious. He coughed to clear his throat. "Erm, well, quite. Come along, then! Let's get on with it. And if anyone has any trouble erecting their tent, feel free to ask for assistance."

"Heh heh. he said 'erect'."

Oh, God. Mr. Galloway closed his eyes in helpless frustration. "Just... Just run along, Mr. Northwick."

It was going to be a long weekend.

"Come, now. This is ridiculous. We can't honestly be expected to do this ourselves, can we?" Chad Morris prodded a disassembled tent with the tip of his shoe. "This has to be some kind of joke."

"Well, it isn't a very good one," Tad fumed, waving a hand at their teacher. "I say! Excuse me - Mr. Galloway?"

"Having trouble?" Mr. Galloway smiled at them warmly. "I, uh, suggest you find someone who's finished their tent and ask them for help if you need it." He scanned the field, squinting. "Ah - there! I believe young Mr. Vincent is almost done. Perhaps ask him?"

"Vincent? Johnny Vincent?!" squealed Tad, his eyebrows shooting up towards his hairline dramatically. "Asking any of those greaseballs for help would be..." He wrung his hands in horror. "It'd be social suicide!"

"Suit yourselves. Hey! Robinson, step away from the lake right now!" Mr. Galloway ran off to apprehend Ethan, leaving the preps by themselves once more.

"Masterfully handled, Tad." Derby applauded his subordinate unenthusiastically, somehow managing to inject a veritable truckload of sarcasm into each and every clap. "Really well done."

Tad folded his arms sulkily while Parker proceeded to empty out one of the tent bags. He studied the instructions thoughtfully. "You know, this doesn't look that difficult. And if those greasers can do this, surely we can too..."

"Of course we can do it," Gord sniffed. He patted Parker on the head condescendingly. "But we won't. It's the principle of the thing, you know. This... This is manual labour." He smiled suddenly, looking off into the distance with a dreamy expression. "Hmm. Perhaps Hopkins would care to share a tent with me..."

"There. Gord has the right idea," Derby said, watching Gord with barely-concealed distaste as he practically skipped away. "This is simply beneath men of our standing. Therefore, we'll just have to make someone else do it for us."

"I am not sharing a tent with Hopkins," Justin choked out. "No. No. I'm sorry, Derby, but there are some things that I just can't bring myself to -"

"Justin? Kindly shut up." Derby rolled his eyes. "I wasn't suggesting we all suck up to Hopkins. We wait for some of the lower classes to finish their tents, then we... comandeer them."

"Excellent idea," Bif grinned. "The nerds seem to be making some progress. Want me to go serve them with an eviction notice?"

Derby smiled graciously. "And leave all the fun to you? I think not, my friend." he motioned to his fellow preps. "Come along, chaps. Shall we go for a walk?"

"Oh, this is awfully decent of you, Hopkins. I do so appreciate you... taking me in."

"I bet you do. Pass me the hammer."

Ugh. Gary made gagging noises as he turned away from Jimmy and Gord's nauseating display. If there was anything more sickening than Jimmy Hopkins himself, it had to be Jimmy Hopkins flirting with someone. Seriously. Gary had a pretty strong stomach (cultivated through a steady diet of Edna's cooking at school), but merely entertaining the thought of Jimmy and Gord making goo-goo eyes at each other was making his stomach churn in an incredibly alarming way.

Gord made a rather disturbing-sounding noise of approval as Jimmy began hammering tent pegs into the ground. "My my, Hopkins... Have you been working out?"

Oh God! Gary turned to Petey, who was looking from the tent pieces to the assembly manual and back again with a look of utmost concentration. "C'mon, Petey. Get up, we're moving."

"Why?" Petey didn't even look up, his gaze resolutely fixed on the tent instructions. "I want to stay here."

"Yeah, well, I don't." Gary nudged Petey with his shoe and picked up a bag of tent pegs. "Seriously. We need to set up our tent as far away from those two as humanly possible." He nudged harder, receiving no response. "Pete. Come on. This is not the best time to start standing up for yourself, Femme-boy."

Petey seemed to disagree. He was avoiding eye-contact with Gary and tensing his shoulders - both telltale signs that he was gearing himself up for a bout of stubborn-ness. God damn it. He sure picked his moments. "I don't want to move. You really think I'm going to let you drag me away somewhere secluded?"

"Yes." Gary was seriously considering lifting Petey over his shoulder and carrying him to a more suitable spot whether the little squirt liked it or not. "Yes, I do."

"No way!" Petey inched away, as if he'd read Gary's mind. "Look, I was really looking forward to this. I used to love camping when I was a little kid. Please don't ruin it, Gary." Petey began fumbling with the tent poles. "If we camp somewhere away from Jimmy, you'll just pick on me constantly. At least if he's around, you can't do anything too bad."

"I can, Petey. I really, really can." Gary scowled deeply. "Look, moron - I just want to camp somewhere else so that we don't have to listen to those two at it all fucking night. Got it? Now move."

"Eh? Jimmy and Gord? Don't be weird."

Gary dropped the bag of tent pegs with a little growl of exasperation. Okay, he knew Petey was naive, but this was ridiculous. "You can not be serious. I'm not kidding, idiot. Have you heard them? Why else would they be sharing a tent?!"

"We're sharing a tent," Petey said reasonably. "And we're not... uh."

"Oh, like you wouldn't if you had the chance." Gary clasped his hands together girlishly. "Ooh, Gary! Isn't it romantic here beneath the stars? Kiss me, you masculine hunk of manliness!"

"Shut up."

"Not denying it, little Petey?"

"Yes I am! Just stop it!" Petey covered his face with his hands and let out an anguished groan. "See, this is what I mean!"

"You're no fun." Gary sat down on the grass, sulking. Fine - let Petey have his way. It'd almost be worth it just to see his face when he found out that Jimmy and Gord really were having their own special kind of fun in the neighbouring tent. Gary glanced over at the two of them sourly.

"James. I'm very impressed," Gord purred. "I never realised you knew so much about pitching a tent."

Oh, gross. Gary was never going to sleep again at this rate.

Johnny Vincent's tent was a fucking work of art.

Sure, to the untrained eye it looked just like everyone else's. But in reality, it was the king of all tents: the poles perfectly balanced, the canvas taut, everything put together with the precision that only an expert mechanic could provide...

"Nice work, Johnny," Peanut said admiringly.

"I know," he replied. There was something really satsifying about a job well done, even if it was just a tent. "Mother Nature ain't gonna know what hit her by the time we're done here."

"Awww." A contemptuous upper-class voice from behind them caused both greasers to turn around, their hands automatically balling into fists. Derby Harrington apparently found their handiwork very amusing. "Isn't that sweet, Bif? People having to take pride in something as primitive and inconsequential as that."

"It's not inconsequential for them," Bif laughed. "It's best to know how to put up shelters like this when you're the type of person who will inevitably end up homeless one day..."

Johnny pounded a fist into his palm threateningly. "You think you can talk to me like that, you spoiled little shits?"

"I think they's tryin' to start a rumble," Peanut said as threateningly as he could.

"I think you're right."

"So uncouth," Derby sniffed. "I have no intention of fighting right now, Vincent. Best not to strain things, seeing as we'll be living in close quarters this weekend. Oh, it's going to be dreadful."

"I dunno," smirked Johnny, glancing across at Peanut. "Should be fun watching you pampered little pricks tryin' to cope without your rich kid stuff."

Derby laughed mirthlessly. "Rich kid stuff, you say? How eloquent. Are you suggesting that we can't stick this out?"

"You won't last five minutes," Johnny declared. "In fact, I'll bet you losers ten bucks that you can't hold out through the whole weekend."

"Ten bucks?" mocked Bif. "Vincent, my shoelaces cost more than ten dollars."

"Although..." Derby's eyes narrowed. "You know, the idea of a bet does hold some merit. One second." He and Bif turned away momentarily and exchanged a few hushed words before facing the greasers again. "Very well. I propose this - if we successfully last here throughout the whole weekend, you paupers have to clean Harrington House from top to bottom. We were going to hire a maid to do it, but this should prove far more entertaining."

"And if - I mean, uh, when you lose?"

Derby glanced at Bif. "What's a lot of money in poor people terms?"

The redhead shrugged. "Not a clue. A hundred dollars each?"

"Done," Johnny said instantly, extending his hand towards the preps.

Derby shook it gingerly, his lip curling in disgust. "Tell me, Vincent, have you ever washed this hand?"

"Can it." A triumphant smirk slowly crept across Johnny's face. "Hey... Go wash your hands if it bothers you that much, Harrington."

"Don't worry, I shall." Derby walked a couple of steps before coming to a sudden stop. "Wait... no bathrooms. Damn."

"That's right. No bathrooms. No soap. No toilets."

As he watched the colour completely drain from the preps' horrified faces, Johnny decided that this was shaping up to be a pretty awesome weekend.

Since the field trip had started, Melvin had been very busy. He'd hiked through the forest, fended off hostile wildlife, scaled treacherous cliffs and mountains and discovered the lost relics of an ancient civilisation. And all in the space of an hour!

Doom Raider 3 was the best game ever. He hoped he'd brought enough batteries for his GameDude handheld to last all weekend.

"Melvin! Put down that contraption and help us!" Earnest snapped, struggling to hold up a tent pole whilst glaring at Melvin through his thick spectacles. Melvin sighed and stashed the game back into his bag. He'd have to continue his adventures later, he supposed. It was understandable that Earnest would be a little stressed by the day's events, after all - the nerds were now all building their tents for the third time. The preppy kids had forcibly evicted them from their first campsite, then the bullies had latched onto the idea and kicked them out of the second one.

Bunch of jerks. Many of the nerds were still walking slightly bow-legged due to the mass wedgie-ing that had ensued.

"Hold this," Earnest instructed, motioning towards the tent pole. Melvin took it and held it still while his friends worked around him. They were getting very good at this, now. Still, 'expert tent constructor' wasn't exactly the kind of thing he could put on his resumé in the future, was it? Gosh. Making camp in a game of G&G was never this frustrating.

They soon finished, thankfully - it seemed like they'd been stuck in a cycle of setting up tents forever. "Success!" Earnest whooped, raising his arms into the air in victory and almost smacking Bucky in the face as he did so. "Oh, my apologies, amigo. But we're done! Finished!"

"And I don't think anyone's going to evict us this time," piped up Cornelius. "Mainly, um... due to the fact that everyone else finished ten minutes ago."

"Oh." Earnest seemed crestfallen. He didn't have time to say anything further, though, as Mr. Galloway was blowing a whistle for attention once more.

"Alright, everyone!" Mr Galloway offered the students a weary little smile. "Excellent job. It's good to see everyone's finally finished. I'll be coming around and helping groups of you to start your campfires shortly." He looked extremely nervous - Melvin couldn't blame him, all things considered. "Do not attempt to start a fire without adult supervision, please. There is a detailed fire safety section in your camping handbooks, so how's about you all peruse that until I get to you? Thanks. Uh... Carry on."

The nerds remained silent for a moment while they digested the latest development. Earnest spoke first. "Trusting those intolerably foolish jocks with fire?!" he squeaked, his voice strangled with terror. "And the bullies?! What does he think he's doing? He'll doom us all!"

"That'th if they manage to thtart a fire in the firtht place," Thad lisped, spraying everyone in the immediate vicinity with spit. "Which I theriouthly doubt."

Privately agreeing with Thad's assessment, Melvin glanced over at the little section of tents that was reserved for the girls. With the way Beatrice was glaring, it looked like she was in danger of starting a fire with the force of her will alone. He wandered towards her. "Greetings, Beatrice. What's ailing you?"

"Oh, nothing," Beatrice sighed.

"Oh. Alright, then—"

"Though I had been hoping to spend this weekend with Jimmy," she blurted out as Melvin turned to leave. He turned back and sat down beside her as she continued. "But you heard what Ms. Peabody said - the girls all have to stick together. I'm... I'm being forced to cohabit with Eunice."

"Eunice?"

"Yes, obviously, because Christy and Angie are sharing and Pinky is with Mandy and I'd rather throw myself in the lake than share with Zoe or Lola. But Eunice snores and I'm not going to get a moment of sleep, especially not now that I know Jimmy will be staying with that preppy boy..."

Melvin didn't know why that was so upsetting, but apparently it was. He took the opportunity to ask while Beatrice took a breath. "Which one?"

"Gord Vendome."

"Ah." Even for someone not well-versed on the Bullworth dating scene, it was obvious why Beatrice would be unhappy. Gord had a certain notoriety associated with his name, after all. "I see. My commiserations."

"Mmm. It's not as though I object to him, u-um... exploring his sexuality or anything, but Gord just isn't right for Jimmy! He needs someone more... more intelligent and—"

"Jimmy?" Eunice herself walked over to join them and plopped herself down next to Beatrice, a huge smile on her face. "Oh, he's so dreamy!"

"I... think I hear Earnest calling," Melvin said, getting up hurriedly. "Farewell!" He hurried off back to the nerds' camp, Beatrice's despair-ridden sigh following after him. Much as he liked Beatrice, he wasn't about to sit and talk with her and Eunice about Jimmy Hopkins' sexuality. Besides - he had a videogame to get back to!

"God damn it!"

Kirby scowled at the little pile of sticks in front of him. This was such crap. Like he was ever going to need to use a couple of twigs to light a fire in the real world, seriously. That was what matches were for.

"Hey there, baby. Need a hand?"

And... Great. Trent. Just the kind of distraction that Kirby needed right now. "Not now, asshole."

Trent leaned forward and waved something very small and shiny in Kirby's face. "No, really. Look what I got."

"A lighter?" Of course! Trent never went anywhere without his smokes. Kirby reached out for it, only for it to be quickly withdrawn.

"Whatcha gonna give me for it?"

Damn it. This was so typical. Kirby scowled apprehensively - Trent was grinning in a way that both enthralled and irritated the fuck out of him. "What d'you want?" he asked cautiously.

Trent tossed the lighter into the air and caught it again, still wearing that same damn smile. "Oh, you know what I want..."

"SHHH!" The diminutive jock glanced around furtively. "Fuck!"

"What? I was just gonna ask you to share a tent with me, Kirb." He pouted in such an exaggerated way that Kirby was almost tempted to laugh. Almost. "What d'you say?"

Kirby made another grab for the lighter, but Trent dangled it just out of his reach. "I say don't be such a fuckin' homo. Now gimme that!"

"Hey - nothing funny about two guys sharing a tent," Trent said innocently. "Everybody's doing it."

Well, that was true. Kirby nodded slowly. "I guess..."

"And it's real cozy inside those things. Y'know... Nice and private," Trent added.

Sold!

"Fine. Now give me the damn lighter. It's getting dark."

Wrapped snugly in his sleeping bag, Gary glared into the darkness of the tent. He was going to kill Petey. Seriously. He was going to choke the little pipsqueak with his bare hands.

It was horrible. Exactly as Gary had predicted, Jimmy and Gord were engaging in some incredibly unsavoury acts in their tent. Loudly. Enthusiastically. Gord kept giggling, for fuck's sake. Giggling. Gary had done some pretty horrible things in his life, but nobody deserved this kind of torture.

A very tiny, very traumatised voice piped up from the other side of the tent. "Gary? Are you awake?"

"No, I've been lulled to sleep by all those soothing noises out there. Fuck off."

"Um..." Gary could hear Petey shifting around slightly in his sleeping bag. "Do you, uh... think they'll stop any time soon?"

"Gee, Petey, I just don't know." Gary forced a note of false cheerfulness into his tone. "Maybe. Or maybe not. Hey, we might get really lucky and they'll be at it all night! Won't that be fun?"

Petey was silent for a moment. "Man. This is the worst."

"I know. It's such a pity nobody warned you that this was going to happen, isn't it? If only there'd been someone to say 'hey, Pete, let's not camp out next to Jimmy and Gord's House of Buttfuckery'. If only—"

"I get it," Petey mumbled. "Sorry, Gary."

"Whatever."

"Maybe one of us should go and, uh... Ask them to stop?" Petey sounded hopeful. "I mean, they probably don't realise how, um... How loud they're being. Right?"

"Pete, you're a genius," Gary snarled. "Yeah. I'll get up and go out there - closer to the noise, close enough to maybe even get a glimpse of the horrors within that tent - and ask them nicely to stop. Yeah. I'll get right on that."

A tiny gulp indicated that Petey didn't think it was such a good idea after all. He let out a despondent little sigh. "This sucks."

Gary fought back the urge to puke. "Sounds like Gord's the one doing the sucking, actually."