Thorne looked up from his textbook, boredly glancing over at Henrietta. Instead, he met the puzzled gaze of Kenny. His eye twitched, and he glanced away hurriedly. He hadn't been the same since Kenny had told him to grow up and stop wishing for something he knew nothing about–before getting hit by a semi head-on. He even had the blood on his poetry diary to prove it happened.

Kenny pointed at the empty seat between them. "Where's Bat Girl?"

Thorne sneered. "She's not Bat Girl. Her name is Henrietta, and she's way more amazing than that superhero bitch."

"Yeah, yeah. Where is she?"

Thorne shrugged. "I don't know…"

Kenny wiggled his eyebrows, making Thorne's insides squirm uncomfortably. He hated when Kenny tried to implicate sexual encounters. "Well, Batman wasn't in Geometry this morning…"

Thorne glared. "Nicholas isn't Batman."

"Oh, and I suppose little 'Baby Bat' isn't Robin?"

Thorne looked at him humorlessly, replying in a very tongue-in-cheek manner. "Oh? And what would that make me? Alfred?"

"No. You're Catwoman, of course." He pawed at him, purring like a cat. "Oh my, you're a pretty little pussy, aren't you? You and those pretty red streaks and purple suede shoes…"

Thorne glared. "They aren't suede, ass-monger."

"Oh, I'm hurt. Hurt by the pussy little Catwoman." He yowled like a cat, hissing lightly and pawing at him again.

Thorne stood up. "I dare you to say that again–"

"Lady of the night. Scarlet woman. That's what you are, with those scarlet streaks in your hair."

Thorne practically fell over the empty desk, punching Kenny square in the jaw. "I'll kill you, you fucker!" One uppercut was all it took to kill the poor kid off. Thorne seethed, returning to his seat. The teacher looked up, glaring.

"Mr. Cummings, I will not have fighting in my class! Go to the principal!" Craig took this opportunity as a way to get out of class, too, and flipped the teacher off. "And you, Mr. Donovan, you're going straight to the principal, too!"

Clyde raised his hand. "I'm over here, Mr. Flemming."

"Oh. Sorry. I get you two mixed up… Mr. Harris, you go to the principal right now. Anyway, class, here's an example of a parenthetical statement–"

As Thorne and Craig packed up their bags and walked out of the room, Thorne glanced back at Kenny's desk. It always amazed him how everyone seemed to ignore Kenny's deaths… He wasn't even sure if they'd remember to attend to his corpse until the Janitor swept it out into the hall at the end of the day. After all, Bebe just moved his corpse to another desk one day when she found it in her seat. Was he the only one other than Pip that ever took notice?

"Hey, James, did you notice that Henrietta and Nicholas were skipping school today?"

He snapped out of his thoughts and turned to Craig, glaring. "My name is Thorne."

"No, it's not, James."

"I prefer Thorne. James Cummings sounds atrocious."

"Yeah, and I prefer James. Your point? Are you going to take any notice of the implications Kenny actually implied? Or are you going to ignore them as if you don't care that the hottest girl to you Goths is getting it on with your little group leader and best friend?"

"For your information, we don't all think Henrietta is the hottest girl in school."

Craig grinned lightly, interested. "Oh? And who would be the hottest girl in school?"

"Oh, she doesn't go to this school. She's still in middle school."

Craig stopped, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. "You wouldn't happen to think this girl is hot, would you?"

Throne laughed wryly, feeling like being an asshole today. He didn't stop walking, but continued towards the flight of steps down the hall. "Oh, doesn't everyone think your little sister is a hot piece of ass? I'd get up that skirt of hers any day. She'd be easy, you know. She probably wouldn't even realize what happened…"

Craig clenched his teeth and slugged the Goth in his pale face, causing what would surely be a black-eye. "You're such a douche, James. Don't you fucking talk about my sister like that. She's only eleven, dude. If I hear another word about her from you, I'll do more than just bruise." Thorne just doubled back and continued walking, not really caring at this point anymore. He had a feeling he knew where Henrietta was, anyway.

"Hey, Thorne!"

At this, he turned around, meeting Craig glaring at him again. "Just because you're pissed off at Nicholas, you don't have to be a total dick and talk about my sister. Fucking get over yourself. You have problems, James Cummings."

Thorne snorted a chuckle. "You have no idea."

-------------------------------

Henrietta took a drag from her cigarette and looked over at her curly-haired companion. "So, Thorne would be in second period by now. When does your mother leave for work? I'm getting cold."

"Another hour or so. Hang on. Hold this." Nicholas handed her his cigarette and took his coat off. He grabbed his cigarette from her and took a drag, putting the coat over her. She smiled gratefully and got warm, exhaling out smoke in a ring and dropping her arm to put her hand over his.

"I think Thorne'll be worried if I'm not in class."

"So?"

"You know how he gets these days. Ever since that incident with Kenny he's looked at death in a whole new light. He'll probably think I killed myself or some shit like that."

"No, I won't."

The two looked up to see Thorne standing there, holding his lighter and rummaging around in his backpack for a cigarette. He reached into a side pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, finding it empty. He looked over at them, noticed their linked hands and overlooked it, choosing to walk over and sit down on the other side of Henrietta instead.

"Can I bum a cigarette?"

Nicholas glanced at Henrietta and Henrietta rolled her eyes. "No, I gave him one the last time he needed one. It's your turn now."

Nicholas grumbled and reached into the pocket of his coat, right over Henrietta's left breast. He pulled out his stash and handed one to Thorne. "Why aren't you in school?"

Thorne grinned wryly. "I killed Kenny, and the teacher kicked me out for fighting in class."

Henrietta gasped. "That bastard! What the fuck is his problem? Kicking an innocent kid out for killing another student…" The two exchanged chuckles and Nicholas took another drag.

Thorne swept the bangs from his eyes and shook his head to get them behind his ear, which failed like it always did. He flipped the switch on his lighter, getting nothing but a spark. He bit down on the cigarette between his lips and grunted, flipping it again and again with naught but a spark to show for his efforts.

Henrietta grabbed the lighter and looked at it. "There's no oil left. Here." She pulled out her own lighter and tossed the useless one out into the snow. Thorne reached for hers, but Henrietta gripped the lighter tighter. "No. You're not touching it."

Thorne sighed and bent his head down to the flame that sparked from it, lighting his cigarette and pulling back, taking a deep breath and sighing, letting the smoke exit through his nostrils. He got comfy and glanced over at Nicholas, who was looking away from both of them.

"Nicholas, why weren't you at school today? Feeling gloomy again?"

Nicholas looked over, unamused, and took a drag. "No. I didn't feel like going. Plus, Henrietta's mom got pissed off at her when she took Kenny's most recent suicide lightly. We can't go over to her house after school this week."

Thorne gaped. "Well? Why didn't you let me and Peter know?"

Nicholas glanced over at Henrietta, who was looking at him and hiding a grin. He gave her a dirty look and glanced back at Thorne, looking off to the side and mumbling an excuse. "I didn't get around to it."

Thorne made a gesture towards Henrietta wrapped up in his coat and raised his eyebrows sarcastically. "Yeah, I'll bet." He nudged Henrietta and whispered in an attempt to keep Nicholas from overhearing. "So, did you find out what was up his ass?"

Henrietta burst out laughing, startling Nicholas again and confusing Thorne. She held her hand up in a fist and winked at the one on her right as he swept the bangs from his eyes again. "Yeah. Me, of course."

Thorne stifled a laugh and the curly-haired Goth glared at both of them, turning slightly pink. Thorne reached his arm over Henrietta and nudged the taller one. "Hey, don't be ashamed. Some guys would pay good money for that." He and Henrietta held back another laugh and Nicholas stood up, mopey.

"Leave me the hell alone."

Thorne put a hand over his mouth dramatically. "Sorry for caring about you, man. Me and Peter just asked Henrietta to get to the bottom of everything. It's not like we asked your problem to be about her. Besides, I can see you asking her to shove her fist up your ass."

Henrietta bit back another laugh and glanced up at Nicholas. "Nicky? You okay? You know Thorne's just teasing…" Nicholas didn't answer her question and instead threw his cigarette on the ground and crushed it under his heel.

"I'll see you bubbleheads later. I need to go do something."

Henrietta pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. "What about your coat?"

Nicholas waved his hand and walked off. Thorne took a drag and called out after him. "Nicholas, if you're pissed off at me, don't take it out on her. We were just trying to help."

As he turned the corner, Thorne stood up, glaring. Henrietta placed a hand on his knee. "Let him go off. He needs some time to himself. Fighting with him isn't going to help things."

"That's not good enough. He needs someone to talk to right now, and it obviously can't be you, since he doesn't seem any better after that talk you had yesterday."

Henrietta rolled her eyes and took a final drag, flicking the remaining butt on the ground. Thorne frowned and dashed after him, turning the corner.


The Harris-Donovan Theorem
In the show, Clyde has been given the last name of Donovan. A few times in the initial airings they messed up and made his last name Harris.
Now, this theorem draws on the other fic I'm writing which is mainly Craig/Tweek. I don't know about you, but me and a few of my other friends have written Clyde instead of Craig and vice versa. Because Clyde has been mistaken for a "Harris" in the show before, and Craig is always mixed up with Clyde, then obviously Harris is going to be Craig's last name. This puts in an inside joke with myself that Clyde and Craig get mixed up all the time, simply because their names both start with C and have the same number of letters.
(Warning: This theorem has no logical basis and is therefore unable to be understood. Thank you.)

Speaking of, that reminds me of a funny story regarding me and some boy I went to class with in the fourth grade. His name was Collin and my name is Caitlin. One of the other students got our names mixed up and handed back the opposite one. Pretty normal, right? My last name is probably the most common last name in the Ozarks and is only six letters long. His surname was foreign, started with a V and was about nine letters long. How the hell do you mix that up!?