Hey, guys! So this is that spy fic I've been dropping hints about. That preview that I gave like a thousand years ago is probably not even going to be in it, TBH. And this chapter may change. Like, a lot. Just so you know. This fic has been sitting in a word doc getting fatter and more complicated (word doc is 109 pages) and I decided to just post something. So, without further ado...

Mission Discovered

Location to be determined, Chicago IL 9/3 08:32 AM

Jack stares up at the building looming above him, stifled dread coiling ominously in his stomach. The painted bricks appear deceptively cheerful, considering the disturbing amount of people who are forced to come here to endure mental, psychological, and at times physical torture on a daily basis. He adjusts the strap slung over his shoulder, the bag filled with basic essentials for survival in this unknown place. All around him are unfamiliar faces, unknown subjects and therefore people to be cautious of. Almost a decade of gun fights, drug lords, recon, and other awesome (and not so awesome) things associated with being a spy, and not one thing he's ever encountered has ever prepared him to face what he's about to go through.

He reigns in a knee-jerk 'stab-first-ask-questions-later' reaction as a football sails past him, missing by an uncomfortably narrow margin and accompanied by a "Go long!"

High school.

Ringing sounds throughout the building, the sound harsh and grating on his heightened senses. He locates one of its sources as a bright red bell located near the top of the building, and contemplates climbing up there and destroying it simply out of annoyance when the sound stops. He notices the people around him, his new peers, start flooding into the building. The bell must be some sort of signal for them.

"Jack!"

Jack turns when he hears his name. Standing there, sans the trademark labcoat that Jack is used to seeing him in, is the teen's doctor/guardian/gadget-provider/"dad" JD. The pale scientist's thumbs drum nervously on the steering wheel of his modest suburban.

"Should I… come in with you?"

Jack refrains from rolling his eyes, knowing that the scientist is only concerned… which is funny, because JD shows very little worry at letting Jack loose in a foreign country with known FBI wanted terrorists in the area, but is reluctant to let him go spend eight hours in a high school with a bunch of teenagers that have probably never seen a dead person in their lives. Meanwhile, Jack is currently living with a prototype tranquilizer eating at his insides courtesy of said scientist.

Okay, he's probably being a little melodramatic. The tranquilizer may or may not be eating at his insides. And if it is, it's not really anything that he'd die without; just his forearm. Well, there is the tiny problem of it possibly destroying a bit of brain tissue as well…

Yeah… that.

So, long story short, Jack's "bosses" are part of an organization called CARDINAL. He's been an agent since he was eight, so one might understand his confusion when CARDINAL suddenly decided that he should start living like a "normal teenager," which entailed moving out of his little apartment at CARDINAL headquarters and into a house, having "parents," attending an actual school, and other "normal teenager" stuff.

Jack, of course, didn't take this too well, and refused to go at first. How could he possibly be a normal teenager with what he does on a daily basis? And he can't possibly be expected to look at JD and Marissa as his parents. That's just… no. They're more like an awesome uncle and a scary aunt.

JD (Jack's never known what the letters stand for) is a combination of a reclusive scientific genius and a CARDINAL doctor. Jack seriously wonders why the guy works at a secret spy agency and not at an actual hospital. He's certainly fits the bill of a typical doctor, what with the white coat he's almost walking around in. Then again, though, he has the social skills of a coffee table.

The teen guesses that the scientist could be seen as his father figure, but JD can't even keep track of his own stock of volatile chemicals all the time, let alone a growing child. That's probably why the task of watching over Jack was left to Marissa.

Though, honestly, Marissa's probably not the best "parent" either. Sure, she's a badass silent-but-deadly-ninja type person that would give the Black Widow a run for her money, but she's not the one to go to for raising a child-now-teenager… which is too bad, because that's what CARDINAL did. She was tasked with taking down a headquarters of some enemy agency, and found Jack there. Some genius at CARDINAL decided to have her bring Jack back, and this same genius (note that this is a term laden heavily with sarcasm) decided that Jack was going to be the newest and youngest addition to the organization.

Anyway, so JD was working on a prototype for an extremely potent tranquilizer, and Jack was in the wrong place at the wrong time. They would have just let him sleep it off if it weren't for the fact that the sedative was completely harmless to normal humans but ate through certain types of metal. Add in the fact that Jack has a couple of bionic chips and a robotic forearm, and one starts to understand the problem.

Lucky for him, there was some mysterious inventor/benefactor that knew how to help. Unlucky for him, the man lives in Chicago with his wife, stepson, and three kids. CARDINAL figured this was the perfect opportunity to move Jack, and so during the eight-hour period that he was unconscious, he, Marissa, and JD were relocated to Seaford, a small town on the outskirts of Chicago. Joy.

That was yesterday. Now he's here, starting his first day of high school.

"I'm fine, JD. I'm starting high school, not kindergarten." Not like Jack remembers kindergarten, but he's not going to mention that.

"I know, I know, I just… switch off before you kill someone, alright? Be nice. And making a friend or two wouldn't hurt."

Jack nods in response to the hidden message to relax, but he can't help it. Normally going into a new place he has some idea of an overall objective, like stopping a drug cartel or preventing an assassination, but this? His only instructions were to "fit in and stay out of trouble," given by his mentor Marissa (who's currently on a mission of her own).

This is a whole new ball game.

Cafeteria, Seaford Hughes Creek High School, Chicago IL 9/3 08:30 AM

"…and here's the cafeteria. It's still breakfast right now, and you have about ten minutes left in here before your next period. When you're finished here, there's going to be an assistant teacher at the front office that will lead you to your first class."

"Right, thanks," Jack says politely to the woman that had been leading him around the school. She had brought him to his locker before, so his bookbag is in there. She'd acted nice enough, but a subtle profile of her revealed that she was anxious go smoke a cigarette. Jack turns to the cafeteria, leaving her to go inhale lung cancer. The loud chatter of his new "classmates" hits him in a wall of sound, and he winces. He can already feel the headache coming on.

He surveys the people in the room out of habit, rooting out potential threats. His critical gaze starts at a table filled with athletic-looking girls clad in matching blue, yellow, and white outfits, and ends at a sparsely inhabited table with a scrawny redhead, a chubby dark-skinned kid, and a boisterous Latino. Half of the cafeteria is staring at him, unnervingly aware of the newcomer in their midst. It's kinda creepy.

His mind whirs at a rate vastly contrasting with his seemingly relaxed exterior. He realizes that's he's probably overanalyzing the entire situation, and that there is likely very little chance that someone in this room wants to capture/take revenge on/kill/torture him, but he's learned to never let his guard down after… Taylor…

ANYWAYS, not even the kindly new neighbor to his new house, Mrs. Jones. Considering the fact that he himself has assumed the role of an innocent, oblivious stranger on many occasions, he knows that Mrs. Jones could easily be an enemy agent.

His mind briefly entertains the thought of what would happen if someone actually did manage to track him down. He, Marissa, and JD would probably have to relocate somewhere else. Or he and Marissa could just eliminate the threat entirely…

Meh. Whatever.

Jack walks over to the serving area, apprehensively eyeing the questionable "food." He tries for the friendly approach, and flashes the lunch lady a polite smile. After all, JD did tell him to be nice, despite how rarely Jack sports a genuine smile. (Smirks are cool, though. He tends to smirk a lot.) "I'm new here. What do you suggest?"

The dark-skinned woman raises an eyebrow for a second, before shaking her head and motioning to the food with the tongs in her hand. "Not any of this stuff. I don't even know what half of it is."

Jack blinks. Okay. Note to self: never eat here.

He decides to avoid the confirmed unknown substances that the school system called edible and looks for a place to sit down and wait out the rest of breakfast. Turning and reaching into his pocket, he pulls out his ePod and puts his favorite music playlist on shuffle.

"Walk into the club from my taxi cab
Everybody's lookin' at me now
Like who's that chick that's rockin' kicks?
She's gotta be from out of town,"

Jack swears that his playlist is self-aware to some degree. It occasionally plays certain lyrics that fit whatever situation he's in in an eerie way, and at times they're not even songs on his playlist. This is a perfect example; he wouldn't be caught dead with what sounds like Miley Cyrus on his playlist, but her verse about the feeling of alienation in a new environment accurately summarizes his feelings right now.

Or like the time when he was waiting out a target in an air vent and he started the playlist to pass the time, only for the opening lines of Michael Jackson's Thriller to cause him to instinctively want to look over his shoulder, in time leap out of the vent and out of the range of a pistol aimed at his back.

Yeah. Weird.

He heads to a conveniently empty table, considering leaving the room to escape the growing number of curious stares. In his peripheral vision, he spots a blonde girl tossing an apple up and down. As she passes in front of him, she fumbles it and gravity works its magic on the red fruit as it falls. Without thinking, Jack stops its fall with his foot and launches it back up into the air. He deftly catches it in his hand then then tosses it back to her without missing a beat.

She almost drops it again in surprise, but by the time she's really reacted he's already getting comfortable at the empty table. He draws another chair up to himself to put his feet on, feeling a tap on his shoulder seconds later. Mildly annoyed (because it turns out that Party in the USA is actually kinda catchy), he looks up and sees the girl from before. True, he'd sensed her approach, but he was hoping that she's just walk by and forget the apple thing. No such luck, because she smiles in what is probably meant to be a disarmingly friendly way. He's immediately suspicious.

Another reason Jack doesn't like smiles; you can never trust them. A smirk has a small range of definitions: cockiness, triumph, confidence, 'I-know-something-you-don't. It's always sincere. You can't fake a smirk. A smile, on the other hand, can be horribly misleading. Along with the aforementioned things that define a smirk, a smile can be demeaning, friendly, arrogant, deceptive, deadly, condescending… the list goes on and on. It can be used to lull you into a false sense of security, which really never sits well with the young agent.

Smirks are much safer.

"I already caught your apple," he says in a bored tone, lowering the volume of his music so he could hear her voice better. "You want me to catch a pear, too? Maybe a kiwi, as well, while we're at it." Gotta love sarcasm.

She frowns (much better). "Chill, Logan, I just wanted to say thanks for catching my apple."

Jack blinks in a rare moment of unguarded surprise/confusion. Did she just call him Logan? The name triggers something, a memory perhaps, but he's having trouble latching onto it. He tries to focus on it, because it could be a memory from the childhood that he can't remember. What the heck?

(Angsty-spy-backstory time!) The farthest back that Jack can remember is waking up in a car with Marissa when he was eight. As far as he knows, he was apparently in a car accident when he was seven. This accident killed his parents and sibling and is the reason he has a robotic hand and leg. Then, as the story goes, he was kidnapped by a bunch of enemy spies posing as paramedics. This, of course, makes absolutely no sense because what the heck do a bunch of spies want with a seven-year-old? Sadly, neither JD nor Marissa have ever told him the answer to this question. Anyway, the genius guys that run CARDINAL decide to have Marissa raise their new eight-year-old charge as one of their agents, and so here he is.

He gets flashes of memories occasionally, but never really anything concrete. And the only tangible thing that he has from his "childhood" is a dark brown leather strap about a half an inch wide, with a pale orange hemisphere on top of it. It used to be a necklace, but Jack decided to convert it to a more easily manageable bracelet. Despite the fact that it has no obvious or visible purpose, he has never had the heart to throw it away.

"My name isn't Logan…?"

Confusion floods the blonde's features. "Huh. It isn't? I'm normally really good with names…" She shrugs, brushing it off. "Sorry." The smile appears, a bit cocky this time (see what he meant?!). "I'm Kim."

"…Jack." After all, JD did tell him to be nice. Jack supposes an introduction accompanies that. According to Marissa and JD, their family name is 'Anderson,' but Kim did not supply her last name so Jack guesses it's appropriate to do (or not do) the same. Plus, his built-in lie detector has not gone off, so at least she's being sincere.

"Jack," she repeats, as if getting a feel for his name. "Well, if you're not Logan, then you're new. I guess I should have figured, since you still have that weird new-guy smell. I'm just gonna be nice and tell you that it's not a good idea to sit here. Me doing that is better than you having to find out for yourself."

Out of everything she just said, one thing stuck out at him.

"…'new-guy smell?'"

What does that mean?! Should he be concerned? Is she implying that he will be put through some kind of torture that will cause him to smell a certain way?

"That's not the important thing."

"I have a smell?" Should he tell JD and Marissa? Is everyone at this school in danger without even realizing it? What—

"You shouldn't sit here!" she says, getting a little frustrated. Jack blinks, once again surprised. Who knows? Maybe it'll drive her away and hopefully she'll avoid him in the future. Then he can worry about this supposed 'new guy smell' (or lack thereof?) instead of having to deal with some clingy girl he happened to catch an apple for… Oh, wait. JD said to make friends. Jack hasn't spent time with people around his age in a while, but something tells him that this isn't the way to go.

Ugh. Being social is so tedious.

He decides to drop the smell thing. No one seems to be too concerned about it, and if it was really something to watch out for then JD's thorough background check of the school probably would have brought it up. Right?

"Why is that?" Jack asks, responding after the split second it took for that entire train of thought to cease in his mind.

"Because it's our table," a new voice says. Noting the hostility in the tone, Jack looks up and sees four guys in similar uniforms with red, white, and black on them. The one who spoke is taller than the other three and has a mess of curly brown hair.

"You sure about that?" Jack says with a raised eyebrow as he looks over at the table from earlier with the uniformed girls. "Because it looks like you guys would fit in better over there." It's half insult half serious, because people in uniform tend to stay together so shouldn't they be over there? And there's probably a term for those girls… hmm. Maybe he should have taken up Marissa's invitation to watch a marathon of stereotypical high school movies.

"We're not cheerleaders!" the same guy says indignantly. Jack files the word away for future use. The guy glares at one of his buddies and punches him in the arm. "Well, Brian used to be."

'Brian' frowns and looks away. Jack is surprised again, but manages to mask it this time with a bored expression, the ease of doing so coming from years of practice. Revealing an ally's flaw? Is that a normal method of intimidation here? That's incredibly dumb… but okay.

"So," the guys steps forward, cracking his knuckles before doing a series of karate hand motions that are probably meant to add to his intimidation routine (the routine that has already been diminished in Jack's eyes because of the whole 'revealing an ally's weakness' thing). "The name's Frank, new kid. We're the Black Dragons. You got a problem or something?"

Jack rolls his eyes, standing up. This guy isn't even a blip on his 'formidable enemies' radar, and isn't worth engaging. He could take the other teen down (and his buddies) with very little effort. His brain has deduced all of the other's likely weak spots (which are numerous) and surprise attacks to look out for (next to nothing), but he's really not looking forward to getting into a fight on his first day of school.

As he's walking away, Frank for some unfathomable reason decides that it would be a good idea to try punch Jack from behind. Jack deftly catches the fist from over his shoulder and raises a bemused eyebrow. How unfriendly of Frank. And here Jack was willing to walk away… but he can't just let this go, now can he?

"You probably shouldn't have done that."

Twenty seconds later, the four beaten and bruised "Black Dragons" are left to try to gather the remains of their dignity as Jack casually strolls out of the cafeteria. (Dramatic exits are his guilty pleasure. There's nothing he loves more than walking away as something is exploding and being so cool that he doesn't even have to turn around to look at it. This wasn't an explosion, but he still feels the satisfaction).

Before 1st period, Hallway, Seaford Hughes Creek High School, Chicago IL 9/3 08:32 AM

Rocky Blue doesn't think she has ever been more worried about a guy in her life.

She hasn't been able to focus all morning. Her mind has been on the incident from the day before. She's grateful when the bell rings, giving her an excuse to loiter by CeCe's locker for a few minutes as she waits for her best friend. Unfortunately, that only gives her even more of an opportunity to freak. The volume of her peers around her does nothing to provide a distraction.

CeCe had been bugging Logan yesterday morning by ordering from Bob's Kebabs and then figuring out a way to point out something wrong with whatever he brought, forcing him to go back, fix it, and return with the modified order. She'd been just about to tell CeCe to stop after her best friend had ordered for the fourth time, when Logan arrived again. Flynn had opened the door, and then CeCe came up and started teasing Logan again, then…

He'd just collapsed.

She'd rushed over to him, scared out of her wits. Rocky remembers taking control of the situation, somehow managing to think clearly through her panic, ordering CeCe to go get his father, calling Logan's name, telling him to stay awake… she thinks he responded to her voice, because he'd turned his head towards her, but then passed out right after. He'd been so… so… still. She had to force herself to keep a cool head and think. She managed to temporarily shut off her emotions and remember what to do and what not to do when someone passes out.

Logan's dad arrived and sat with them. When Logan hadn't awaken after two minutes, they'd called 911. They'd all piled into Mr. Hunter's car and followed the ambulance.

Logan had been unconscious for eight hours.

Eight excruciating hours that Mr. Hunter stayed by the teen's bedside for every minute of. Rocky would have done the same, but CeCe had gently forced her to get up and get something to eat by the fourth hour at around two.

When the teen did wake up, the first word out of his mouth was "cardinal," followed by something about not wanting to move states. When asked about it later on, he had no recollection of ever mentioning anything about a bird. Mr. Hunter was near tears when Logan woke up. Rocky had seen for the first time just how deep the bond between father and son was as they exchanged words, the elder's relieved and the younger's confused.

The doctors could find nothing wrong with Logan medically. They even did a CT scan to see what was going on with his head, but told the Hunters that they wouldn't be able to see the results until the next morning (a.k.a. today). Until the results came in, the doctors blamed Logan's blackout on exhaustion and stress. With no other reason to keep him at the hospital they released him later that night, though he's supposed to go back with his dad this morning to get the results.

Because of this fact, Rocky is completely and utterly surprised when she sees him walking down the hallway before first period.

'What is she doing here?' she thinks. 'I thought he was at the doctor's?' He's also changed his hair style, which is weird because he's very particular about his hair; it now cascades down in waves and seems more voluminous than it was before.

That, and he's also lacking his signature beanie. Definitely a red flag. That thing rarely leaves his head outside of work. She calls out his name. He doesn't turn around, but slows down slightly. At first she thinks he heard her, but then she sees him take an ePod out of his pocket and realizes he couldn't have heard her due to the presence of the bright orange earbuds snaking up to his ears. (She thought his earbuds were green, what the heck?)

Rocky frowns, abandoning the decision to wait for CeCe. "Logan!" she calls again, crossing the hall and standing in front of him. This time he looks up, raising an eyebrow and taking out an earbud as she approaches.

"Logan, what are you doing here? Aren't you going to the doctor's?" Rocky supposes that his dad could have just gone without Logan, but she knows her boyfriend well enough to know that he would have wanted to go along with his father. Though there is something… off about him. She's not quite sure what it is, but it's a bit unnerving and she doesn't like it.

"Excuse me?" Even the way he speaks is different.

"Come on, Logan," she says gently, stepping closer to him. She frowns, hurt, when he moves away. Is he mad at her? "I'm worried about you. Maybe you should take a couple days off from school or—"

"Look, I'm sorry, you've got me mistaken for someone else," he interrupts, sounding a little confused.

"Hey, Rocky, what's going on?" CeCe's voice says as she suddenly materializes next to her friend. She notices the male and frowns. "Logan?"

"What is it with you people?" apparently-not-Logan asks, confusion morphing into annoyance. "That's the third person today. My name isn't Logan, it's Jack. I've never seen you guys before in my life."

CeCe puts a hand on her hip, a telltale sign of a barbed retaliation. "Okay, I don't know what kind of sick joke you're pulling, but I already said I was sorry for yesterday, so you can go—"

"CeCe," Rocky says softly, cutting her friend off. She'd watched the exchange and thinks that maybe, maybe, this is just someone who happens to look strikingly similar to her boyfriend. This Jack guy, his mannerisms are off. Different from Logan's. It's in the way he speaks, the way he holds himself, the way he's addressing them, and the way he seems to be oozing a casual confidence (and danger?). She can just tell.

Huh. Funny how much you learn about the people you care about.

"I'm sorry we bothered you," Rocky apologizes, backing away. She grabs a protesting CeCe's arm and drags her away. As she's walking, her text tone goes off. She pulls out her phone and stares at the message from Logan.

'On my way back from the hospital. :)'

Outside hospital parking lot, Chicago, IL 9/3 08:32 AM

"Well, I guess you're good, Little Scooter," Jeremy Hunter says, clapping his son happily on the back before climbing into the driver's seat of his pickup.

"Yeah," Logan responds, relief evident in his voice. "Don't call me that," he adds in a halfhearted grumble, though both males know that he secretly doesn't mean it. The stupid nickname's kinda grown on him. The teen rests his head on the pleasantly cool window, watching as the hospital parking lot falls behind them.

'You're fine, Logan. Nothing came up in the scan, so you're good to go,' the doctor had said. Thank god. Both father and son alike had been freaking (though Logan had internalized his panic more than his father) at the prospect of something seriously wrong with the younger Hunter.

After all, the last medical scare either of them had experienced was a case of serious smoke inhalation on the elder Hunter's part. Though that kinda comes with the job description, since the man's a fire fighter and all.

Logan texts his girlfriend, telling her he's on his way to the school. Then his mind wanders as buildings and people that make up Seaford fly by the window in a blur. It's always been just the two of them, him and his father. Or at least, as far back as Logan can remember. He was in some kind of accident when he was younger. He was around seven years old at the time, and whatever accident it was killed his birth parents and sibling and caused a severe case of amnesia.

He doesn't remember anything about his life before the accident or the accident itself. He gets small flashes of memory now and then, like the screams of a woman he assumes is his mother and a small, shaking hand covered in blood, but nothing else definite. He was dropped off in an adoption center by an unknown person, unconscious and unloved, and he lived there for almost a year before Jeremy found him.

He really appreciates his adoptive father. Jeremy is an amazing man, and sometimes they act more like siblings than they do father and son. Mr. Hunter spends a lot of time at home because he doesn't have a second job besides being a firefighter, and that means plenty of time for the two males to bond; they're incredibly close. But as much as Logan loves his father, he can't help but wonder about his past every now and then.

The only things he has left from that previous life are a long scar that runs diagonally on his abdomen (from the accident) and a simple necklace made up of a black string and a light green hemisphere about the size of a marble. Footsteps approach the door as he muses about the necklace. He doesn't know what the trinket represents, but he's never wanted to get rid of it.

He doesn't think that he ever will learn anything about his past, either. Logan and his dad moved up to Chicago from Arizona about a couple years after he was adopted. Not long after that, they learned that the adoption center burned down in a freak fire. All the records were hard copies, so what little they had on Logan was destroyed. All the children inside died as well. The Hunters went back to Arizona for the funerals. Logan remembers crying, mourning for fellow children that were taken before their time even though he never really was that close to any of them.

A sudden wave of annoyance interrupts his train of thought, and he's wondering how many people are going to mistake him for Logan. As suddenly as it came, it's gone, leaving the teen confused. What the heck was that? He is Logan, why would he think about someone mistaking him for himself…?

1st Period, Mr. Squires' room (Advanced Math), Seaford Hughes Creek High School, Chicago IL 9/3 08:40 AM

Rocky is staring. She can't help it. This person, this Jack, who looks so much like her boyfriend it's scary… he just freaking

WALKED IN

and

SAT.

NEXT TO HER.

HE'S IN HER CLASS.

After walking in and giving the room a cursory scan (probably for an empty seat) he starts walking towards her group, which consists of herself, a redhead named Milton, and two stepbrothers named Leo and Chase. The only available seats are side by side, next to her. Just her luck. He nods in greeting to the four of them and then sits down.

She tries to subtly study his facial expressions when he's not looking at her, searching for anything that would reveal "Jack" as Logan. (She'd like to note that subtly is not her strong suit). After all, Logan's a normal teenage boy. Pulling pranks is a given. It's just that he's never done something so… pointless? No, that's not the right word, but every little trick he's ever pulled has always had an immediate effect. This doesn't seem like something he would do. And despite the fact that she's decided Jack isn't him, she still has her doubts.

After all, he had texted her this morning telling her where he was going and to wish him luck. It's the perfect alibi for his lack of an appearance… though it's not something he would lie about. And just a few minutes ago he'd texted her saying he's on his way back from the hospital…?

Look at him, sitting up there with his feet up on the chair next to him like he owns the place. Did she do something to annoy him? Because Logan knows how much she hates feet on desks. And of course he had to sit next to her. (Then again, the desk next to hers is the only one available in the classroom, but she'd like to pretend that he had a choice so she's just going to ignore that little fact.) If he's trying to screw with her, he's doing a great job of it.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer."

Rocky utters a mental pseudo-curse realizing she'd been caught (even though he wasn't looking at her, what the heck?). She opens her mouth to defend her actions and possibly apologize for the confrontation from minutes ago when—

"Mr. Hunter, Ms. Blue, is there something you two would like to share with the class?" Mr. Squires asks, raising an eyebrow. "After all—" The man seems to do a double take. "Mr. Hunter? Why are you in here? I don't have you until next period."

"I'm not sure who 'Mr. Hunter' is," Jack says, looking bored. "I can only assume it's this Logan guy that everyone's mistaking me for. My name is Jack. I just moved here."

Mr. Squires raises a dubious eyebrow "Riiiight. Enough with the fun and games, Mr. Hunter. What class are you supposed to be in right now? And you know you should address me as 'sir.'"

"Yours, and if you looked at your mailbox this morning instead of complaining about the lack of coffee in the coffee pot, then you would have seen the notice about you having a new student in your first period." And then, as if in afterthought, "Sir."

Rocky stares, along with every other person in the class. True, earlier this morning, everyone within a thirty foot radius of the teachers' lounge heard Mr. Squires making a fuss about how empty the coffee pot was, and that there were no more coffee grounds in the bag. Fed up, Coach Trent (who had a short temper to begin with) finally yelled that there was "another bag in cupboard if you opened your beady little eyes for once."

Still, no student had ever dared to call out Mr. Squires whenever he had one his little "coffee tantrums" (as the students liked to call them)… until now. After getting over the initial shock, some people start snickering. Across from her, Leo disguises a snort of laughter with a cough into his fist, while Chase and Milton try to cover up 'okay-I-know-I-shouldn't-laugh-but-that-was-pretty-funny' expressions. Rocky effectively hides her giggle with rest of her hand.

Mr. Squires, on the other hand, is rapidly approaching the color of a tomato. He opens his mouth, and then closes it. It's as if his fury has completely impeded his ability to speak. "Fine," the balding man hisses. "I'll play along with your stupid little game, for now. I'm not sure where you came from, Jack, but here at Seaford Hughes Creek, you do not speak to teachers that way."

"Please," Jack scoffs. "You're just mad that I called you out on your little tantrum. What are you, five? You're a teacher. You're supposed do stuff like finding your own stupid coffee and catching yourself before making a mistake in an equation that's going to be presented to a classroom-full of advanced students."

Rocky blinks, wondering what he's talking about at first. Then she realizes he's addressing the math equation the man had written out and solved on the board. She quickly scans the problem, searching for the fault. Oh. There it is. Two times three isn't five. Rookie mistake.

She turns her head slightly to look at Jack. This class just got a whole lot more interesting.

Chapters are going to be kinda weird structurally... but more on that later. Imma go post this now. Mmkay, bye.

Until next time,

~BH