John had never liked school, and Math was no exception. He was sure that him being surprisingly good at it was a fluke. The teenager was slouched over his desk, and would've fallen asleep had there not been an incessant buzzing in his ear. The summer heat made the room stifling, even for a pyrokinetic like himself, and he reached for a comfort of his Zippo lighter. The very presence of the lighter made the buzzing augment to an almost unbearable volume, and he felt the offending object being ripped from his grasp.

"John, I asked you a question," Ororo Munroe said sharply, a look of deep exasperation on her face.

"Huh?" he mumbled, barely awake. He decided to pay attention to her, if only to get his lighter back. He felt, and was completely powerless without it, so he didn't think it was quite fair of Ms. Munroe to take it. She didn't need anything in order to manipulate the weather, and he knew some of the cloudier days were the result of her feeling particularly sad that day. "Uh, yes."

"It was not a yes or no question. The correct answer is 24, Mr. Allerdyce."

"Right, 24…" John dropped his gaze to the floor, and winced when he felt an elbow in his side. "What the—" He turned sharply to glare at his best friend, Bobby Drake. Despite the wrathful look John was throwing him, the ice mutant seemed as bright as the sun filtering through the windows. He was used to an irritated John. Anger he could deal with.

"Do you wanna do something tonight? We can go into town."

"Since when does Robert Drake break the rules?" John whispered snidely.

"Since when doesn't St. John Allerdyce—"

"Don't call me that," John cut him off. What had his parents been thinking? He wasn't a saint. He cringed at the thought of his classmates knowing he was St. John Allerdyce. He wasn't even sure how Bobby knew. He definitely hadn't told him. Must be the professor, Pyro thought. That man knows everything. He was jolted from his thoughts by the ring of the bell, signaling the end of Math class. More than relieved, John practically jumped out of his chair before remembering that he still had to get his lighter back. He'd have to approach Miss Munroe with caution.

He left the room ten minutes later, Bobby waiting for him patiently, holding his lighter tightly. The shark's smile grinned up at him, sunlight reflecting off of the silver metal. He clicked it open and was instantly calmer, drawing the flame out to form a bird in flight. Bobby watched it flutter around for a second before freezing the winged creature. It thudded clumsily on the red carpeted floor, and John melted it into a puddle. It was a game the two often played, as if to prove who was stronger, more in control. Bobby could make beautiful ice sculptures that glistened, but they couldn't run or fly like John's did. The two friends picked up the pace so that no one would suspect them of ruining the school's carpets.

"Popsicle," John mocked suddenly, as he so often did. Bobby sometimes wondered why John was the way he was, but for now could only think of a comeback.

"…Flame Boy," Bobby threw back lamely. He was already kicking himself for that one.

"Flame Boy's not nearly as funny as Popsicle. I win," the fire mutant said simply, a small smile on his face. They walked back to their room in silence, because John liked it that way and Bobby had nothing else to say.