Title: teacher teacher

Author: Digimon Empress Yaten (de yaten)

Notes: Written for kh_drabble. Weird.

Disclaimer: I don't own Kingdom Hearts or its characters. I don't claim to own them.

It was clear that the dear Superior was madder than the hatter in a children's book checked out and reserved twice by Jenny Smith, Mrs. Peterson's class, third grade, student #19.

It was uncommon that they were all gathered at once; thirteen black coats for twelve silly boys and one not-so-silly girl, sitting at white desks with white chairs and spilling black ink over the pristine pages of Jenny's most favoritest book in the whole wide world.

"Sooo, why are we here?"

It was nine (gets a Dyme) who was always the one to bring the first words up, up and out of empty chests into the dry stale air like neunundneunzig Luftballoons.

"Maybe you're finally getting turned into a Dusk for so many botched missions?"

Pop.

(Dyme, don't cry, it was only a balloon and they only cost ten cents and Daddy says tomorrow is Free Balloon Day!)

It was eight (stays up late) that was sitting with arm slung over a child's chair and smirking like Little Red that killed, cooked, and digested the Wolf with nothing but a pin and sweet sweet, sharp words.

"It must be something serious," the fourth (goes up north) said, spider-fingers making a church, steeple, see all the people on his black leather lap. "The Superior only calls us together for important issues."

Thirteen (so mean, so green) fingered a glass of cult-flavored Kool-Aid and proclaimed that this was so stupid, to h-e-double-hockey-sticks with this, I'm going out for lunch.

Six (is a witch) threatened to let a hungry Boogeyman out of Thirteen's closet if he didn't calm and sit down, but Thirteen spit his gum in Six's hair and then Five (stays alive) flexed his knuckles because that was just rude, really.

Twelve (goes to hell) and Eleven (just hates Evan) snuck behind a high white desk to play doctor, and the second (the best) ran over to watch with the third ('s a nerd.)

Seven (goes to heaven) said simply, calmly, that teacher was sure to show up soon and honestly, they were acting like children.

The door crrrreaked (a rocking horse, an attic door) open and Thirteen dove under a desk because Nine was hawking spitballs and maybe Six really did let the Boogeyman out.

But it was only teacher, and Nine continued his kamikaze spitball attack because, hey, he wasn't going down without a fight.

And then everyone just-shut-the-hell-up when teacher held up two fingers and clapped one-two, three-four-five. One-two-three-four, five-six.

"Quiet down children, quiet down. " The first (the worst) said, and desks were straightened upright and spitball-cannon straws were hidden behind backs. "There is a serious matter to discuss. I am disappointed that one of you has stooped to a base temptation such as this."

All paused and waited, waited for teacher to either say something or make them all write I Will Not Disrupt Meetings By Acting Like A Child one-hundred and twenty-two times on the blackboard.

"Someone," One said, "stole my cookies from the cookie jar."

Nine fidgeted (he wanted to say it, but no, that was long ago and his chest was full then) and One continued.

"And I demand to know who it was."

All paused (and Nine still fidgeted) until a soft, barely-audible sound came from behind Thirteen's snow-white chair.

C-C-Crunch

Crunchy stale store-bought a dozen for 1.99 chocolate chips were the hardest to chew.

Thirteen's head (so innocent) peeked out and the tell-tale-heart cookie crumbs clung to his lips.

Nine twitched and said it before Eight could stop him.

"It's Roxas! Roxas stole the cookies from the cookie jar!"

Thirteen knew how to play (Nine told him, after it was lights-out and comic books were being read by flashlight) and smiled, cookie crumbs raining to the floor.

"Who, me? Couldn't be!"

Eight kicked Nine where-no-one-was-supposed-to-kick before he could say anything else, lest they all have to stay in for recess.

It was all just a stupid game, anyway.