"I think we both know why you're in here," says Roger.

Matt thinks about it. HE thought it was some sort of mandatory meeting that all the kids had to go to—why else would he AND Mello get called in?

"A Very Wammy Meeting?" Matt giggles at his own joke. Roger glares at him and waits for the laughing to stop.

"No, Mathew, we are here to talk about a certain foul habit you've seemed to develop."

"But, sir, 'Matt' isn't sort for anyth-"

"That's quite enough, Mathew. Now, if you will kindly remain silent while I speak."

Mathew. Where the hell had Roger gotten that?

"I was sifting through the files yesterday and happened upon your download history. You have been frequenting many sites, I have deduced, that involve human females and the nakedness thereof. Kindly tell me what you have to say for yourself."

"I…I was…searching for reference photos."

Roger raises his eyebrows.

"Yes, it's true. You see, I want to be a forensic artist. You know…look at skulls and stuff and then, er, recreate what the faces might have looked like to help solve crime."

Matt had no idea he was so damn creative. He'd better role with it.

"But, Mathew, you have shown not the slightest bit of aptitude for art. You made Linda cry with your rendition of her."

She only cried a little, Matt thinks, and that was because he accidentally gave Stick Figure Linda a penis. But he erased it, didn't he?

"That was an inside joke, sir. I'm really quite talented."

Roger is unfazed by the lie. "Good. Then you will take weekly art lessons with Bernice."

Bernice? The logic teacher?

"Yes. We are trying out a new course called the Logic of Art. You will serve as the Guinea Pig, and it will serve as your punishment. It's a win-win deal, which you have lost."

Matt furrows his brow.

"Don't furrow your brow at me. Furthermore, we will be installing a filter on your computer, and you will only be able to visit an online dictionary, thesaurus, and encyclopedia henceforth."

Whatever. Matt could just hack it.

"And I will be performing weekly checks to make sure you haven't hacked it."

"Damn," says Matt.

"Don't fucking curse," says Roger. "By the way," he adds, as an afterthought "you are ranked third in the institution."

"WHAT?"

"Precisely what I said. Don't know what that says about the institution. But yes, Mathew. Near is first, Mello is second, and you are third. A distant, dim third."

Matt actually sneezes out of surprise, which had never happened before. Roger wipes his glasses disdainfully.

"Very well, off you go. Your Art Logic lessons will begin this Tuesday and will last from seven to ten pm. Good day."

Matt wipes his nose and leaves.

When Matt comes back to his room, he finds Mello on his bed, staring at the wall and looking livid.

"What's wrong, Mello?"

"Two and three tenths of a point, that's what's fucking bloody wrong mutherfuckingfuckinghell. FUCK!"

"What?"

"That's how much Near beat me by. That small of an amount. But I can't fucking reach him however small it is." Mello pauses, looking thoughtful. "He must die by falling into the toilet and drowning. It's the only solution." Mello gets up and looks around wildly. "Have you got a wrench?"

"What for?"

"To rig Near's toilet, motherfucker!"

"Mello, you can't do that."

"Why not, bitch-ass?"

"Because—Hey, I am NOT a bitch-ass! Because I don't own a wrench. And because you know nothing about toilets. And because that's a stupid way to murder a marshmallow."

Mello flops back down on the bed. "You're right. He would probably just get his bottom wet and nothing else."

Matt resents the mental image. Mello slowly seems to become a normal human again. "So, what did Roger need to talk to you for?"

"He wanted to tell me that I was a bad child who looked at porn. And that I'm third at Wammy's."

"WHAT?"

WHY was everybody having this reaction?

"Yes."

"No you aren't."

"YES I AM. I'm not stupid, Mello. You know I do well on all those tests. And I have good technical skills and hand-eye coordination and depth perception and crap."

"Hm. I guess you're not lying."

Matt would've fumed if he hadn't just been shamed by Roger. He was getting used to it.

"Fine. So Near is first, you're second, and I'm third. That's how it is. Now, what are you actually gonna DO about it? Besides complain at me?"

"I'm gonna beat him."

"At what?"

"I don't know. I just will."

"And does this plan involve a certain toilet?"

"No, I'm serious. I need to be the best."

"Okay, sure, be the best you can be. Hey, if I get my Game Boy to work again can I show you my pokémon?"

Mello thought for a while.

"Sure."

Matt accidentally lets out a genuine, high pitched "Yay!"

"Damn pokétard. Oh, and Matt, where in God's name did you get that you had good depth perception? Because my nose begs to differ."

Matt blinks.

"Better luck next time?"

Mello looks thoughtful.

"Sure. Why not."

Fin.