Title: The International Boys School for Excellence

Rating: T-M

Fandom: Beyblade

Warnings: Slash.

Author's Notes: Lord help me, not another fic. Oh well. Had to indulge in my sudden urge to write humor. Well this is a chaptered fic, so hopefully it will help to diffuse some of my boredom in writing just action all the time. Anyway, feedback is much welcome! Especially on how to expand my humor skills/ideas for future humor!

Anyway, as usual a slash, so watch out for that. Not to sure on pairings yet, only that it will be Kai/Rei. Gotta love em!

On with the action!

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Going to a grammar school is like participating in a Hierarchy. Even more so at a boy's school. At the top, you have the king. Screw the teachers, the principal even, it's the Head Boy at the top the ladder. At the end of Grade 11 (a student goes through 12 grades of schooling, starting at the age of five and going all the way to the age of seventeen) every student must cast a vote for the guy they most want as Head Boy. However, this only accounts for half of the vote.

All the teachers then meet and have a general bitch session about the students. They then also cast a vote, determined by a person's grades, sporting abilities, social skills and generally how much they shitted the teacher off over the years. The person who comes out on top of the polls when the votes are combined becomes Head Boy. The second name on 'the list' then becomes Deputy Head Boy. They are what I like to think of as the Head of the Guards. They're the ones you have to deal with when you do something the king doesn't like. Of course, every Head of the Guard needs some loyal minions. This is where the prefects come in. The next fifteen names on 'the list' are landed with the jobs of 'looking after' the school.

And of course, what would a monarchy be without unsatisfied citizens a.k.a. students.

-Signo Fine, An ex-grammar guys guide to being posh, pg 26-27.

Compliments of the International Boys School for Excellence's school library.

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I'm deathly afraid of planes. That and lightning storms, but planes are right up there with cockroaches and permanent markers on my list of phobias. And don't ask about the marker thing, because I just don't want to talk about it. I don't know why I thought I could make it through a 12 hour flight and not pass out with fright. My uncle is an evil, evil person for making me do it, too! I should really sue for negligence…..wait, sorry, that only works in America. 'Sides, I love my uncle to much for that. Sigh, dang it! Confounded feelings!

Sighing for possibly the fiftieth time since we took off about three hours ago, I cling to the arm rests a little harder as the plane moves a fraction of an angle. Sometimes I really hate this whole Neko-jin thing. I mean it's great if you've got one of those interesting lives where stuff actually happens that involves using some skill, but thus far I have found no use for the 'enhanced ability' thing other than cheating in sports. As it is, every time the plane moves I come closer and closer to peeing myself. I really don't like planes. As the part cat that I am, I prefer to have my feet firmly on the ground thank you very much. Unfortunately traveling across oceans involves planes and/or boats…Have I mentioned how much I hate boats. They're evil, evil things. Kind of like my uncle.

I, Rei Kon, have many fears as you may guess, believe it or not. Being the short guy that I am, I suppose that's reasonable. My uncle took me to a basketball match once and we got to meet all the players afterwards. The shooter almost stepped on me. And this was only about a year ago. I do like basketball though. I just have to be very careful not to get stepped on.

Hey, this whole life story thing is very calming. I almost feel safe enough to move an inch in my seat. I have a fear of over tipping the plane if I shift in one direction to much. It could happen! And has anyone heard of that film 'Snakes on a Plane'? Yeah, it's the in-flight movie. Never again. I don't care if I have to stay in Australia for the rest of my natural life; I am never getting on one of these things again!

Oh yeah, didn't I mention? I'm on flight DJ 947: Hong Kong to Australia. Why am I going to the golden country of kangaroos and koalas you may ask? Well certainly, let me reassure you, it's not by choice. Let me give you some advice: when someone offers you a scholarship to a mysterious school in another country: change your name, address and phone number! Let me tell you, those school governors are persistent buggers! Of course, I said I didn't want to go, but they all ganged up on me until finally they pulled out the secret weapon! Turns out, my uncle used to be best friends with the current principal of the International Boys School for Excellence (IBSE for short). So I got suckered into going after one Mr. Stanley Dickenson sweet talked my uncle into sending me.

Why, you may ask, am I: ordinary, normal, regular, basic, plain old Rei Kon being asked to a boy's school for excellence. I don't know myself. We'll have to ask when we arrive. You know, it may be because I'm just such a stud. But that's not true. There's nothing stud-ly about me. Really, I'm quite girly. I once spent a whole day with my Aunt Ella clothes shopping. It was quite embarrassing when I'd realized what I'd done at the end of the day. I spent the rest of the week getting extra dirty, playing sports and all that jazz. Just too reassure myself. And when I was in school, all the boys used to pick on me because I was all slim and stuff. Needless to say, I broke a kids jaw in my second week of school and then went back to being home-schooled. It's just easier that way. I've been home-schooled all my life; ever since before my parents died and I was moved from my village to Hong Kong to live with my uncle and aunt.

So, as you can quite understand, I am very nervous about going to an all boy's boarding school. There are a lot of new things to handle. I've never shared a room with anyone before. Screw that, I've never shared much period. I'm not averse to it or anything, but I'm such a stickler for tidiness. My uncle thinks I'm obsessive-compulsive, cause I get a tick when something's not clean/tidy/boarder on sterilized. I think he's just a pig. A cool pig, but a pig just the same.

Oh look, it's the air hostess. I personally don't like air hostesses. You have to be somewhat less than sane to get on a plane as many times a week as they do. I shudder at the thought. Oh no, she's looking at me with one of those patronizing smiles. You know the one that the assistants in those high price department stores give you when you're wearing anything less than fur, Chanel and about 5 grams of animal tested foundation. Yeah, that one.

'Would you like to go into the cockpit with the pilot? You're uncle made sure we were to pay special attention to you as a minor, little fella,' I stared at her with incomprehension for a moment. Did she just ask me to go into the cockpit? Do I look retarded? I'm not that short am I! How dare she!

'Excuse me miss, but I'm sixteen,' I'd like to tell you where you can shove your cockpit, lady! She blushes a horrible red shade and turns to the little girl across the isle from me, asking the same question.

The little girl nods, her little pigtails bouncing, thumb in mouth. Awwww, how cute is she? The little girl jumps down from her seat, fringe flopping in her eyes and for a moment she looks up and locks eyes with me. Okay, did that little girl just smirk at me? Suddenly, her going into the cockpit doesn't seem like such a good idea! Hey miss, get back here with that evil child! But the two of them are already gone, and my fear of moving kicks in once again.

I glare at the back of the chair in front of me and I can vaguely hear the pilot talking with the little girl. We're right at the front of the plane in the first class section. I think my uncle figured that if I was going to be forced to travel on my own, then I would do it in style. The funniest thing about my fear of flying is that I've probably done more traveling than most kids my age combined. My uncle owns a restaurant chain that has branches all over the world and he would take me and my aunt with him whenever he went to visit any of them. Which was quite a lot.

I was abruptly shaken, quite literally, from my thoughts. The plane just took the hugest jerk in the history of all plane-jerks. If I wasn't scared shitless before, I am now. Oh god, please say that isn't the pilot that just got locked out of the cockpit! Somebody shoot me! The pilot and the air hostess are now banging on the cabin door, begging the little girl from earlier to open the door even as the plane jerked in the opposite direction again.

I cry out, grabbing onto the nearest thing to stabilize myself and to feel a little more comfortable with being way to far above ground in a hunk of metal with a 6 year old flying it. The thing turns out to be someone and I was thankful as an arm made its way around my waist to support me further.

A crash filtered through the plane and I could feel tears slipping past my eyelids. I now have another phobia to add to my list: children. Sniveling little brats. If I die, I'm petitioning to have her sent to hell!

'It's okay now, they got the little monster out,' a smooth British accent washed over me and I looked up at the person who had become my clawing post. He was gazing down at me with a smug smirk and I suddenly had the rather unpleasant feeling associated with meeting someone who rather got a little too into your personal space.

I shift trying to pull away, inwardly groaning as he held fast. 8 hours 36 minutes and 43 seconds to go and now I'm stuck with a British womanizer, minus the woman part. Yay! Australia: here I come.

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Just to expand on the whole Australian idea. I'm an Aussie, so think of this as a debriefing on how things work out here . Oh and sorry about the rulers. They weren't working when I tried to post! Review!