Author's Note: Written as part of Circulation Six in the Newsie Pape Competition. My prompt was: Your newsie/newsies take on middle school. I used the prompts; Sassy and Geography. The word count pre-Author's Note is 335. Can't believe I'm about to admit this but it's been years and years and years since I was in middle school so if this seems dated, sorry. Cool mini history lesson - this Italy v. Norway argument actually happened in a group that I was once forced to part of in a Global Studies class. Which is why I still prefer to work alone to this day ;-) Thanks for reading the shortest thing I've ever written :-)

"That's not Italy."

"What do you know?"

"I know that's not Italy."

"'Cause you're Italian?"

"'Cause I'm not an idiot."

"She said Italy looks like a boot. That one looks like a boot to me."

"I think you got kicked in the head by a boot."

"How about I shove my boot up your –"

"Guys, you realize there's a better way to figure this out, right?"

"And what way is that Jack-ass?"

"Hey, Davey! C'mere a sec! Which one of these is Italy?"

David rolled his eyes at Jack's request but still set his pencil down and crossed the room to look over the crumpled map in front of Spot, Race, and Jack. It was hard to tell what the map had originally looked like as it was covered in three different types of handwriting. Each had been crossed out and there were at least a dozen arrows drawn clear from one side of the map to the other.

"Seriously?" David asked with a raised eyebrow.

Jack just shrugged nonchalantly. "We ain't exactly the group work types. Mind helping us out?"

Just as David went to answer a perfectly aimed spitball landed right in his mouth. He sputtered for a moment and coughed the small bit of paper out into his hand.

"Spot!" Jack glared while Race nearly turned purple trying not to laugh.

"What?" Spot asked with a look like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

"Maybe if you focused on your studies more, you'd know where the hell the easiest country in the world to find is," Race mocked.

"Yes, mom," Spot answered and shoved Race's books off his desk onto the ground.

"Speaking of your mom," Race began as he bent to pick up his belongings.

"Guys, give it a rest," Jack sighed. He looked up to where David stood, still bright red from embarrassment. "Sorry, Davey. They were dropped on their heads when they were born."

"That's Italy," David said as he jabbed at a point on the map. He turned on his heel without another word and Jack felt a twinge of regret. It was fine, he'd just have to make it up to David later.