A/N: Well… it's always good to know that I confused quite a bit of people using probability in the last chapter (sorry about that). Anyways, on a lighter note… somehow I've gotten over 100 reviews and I'm fairly confused as to how, but I'm very thankful to everyone! Speaking of which, I must extend more thanks to Musee.Picasso, NKingy, Sakura-Moonlight, fyrfly23, Jess, reebiegirl, shadowphoenix101, Shawn the Unfunny Joke, silverstar335, sakura's conscience, Thiaf, Kendo Baby, Muffinsweetz, vision-of-light and .w.a.t.e.r.m.i.r.a.l. for the reviews.

Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblade, but that was probably a given.

Chapter Eleven: Caged Boy, Not A Good Sign

Miss Kincaid remembered a phrase she had once read; that when one had a fear, it was best to face it head on. She found herself approaching a part of her nightmares; the odd thing was, she felt more peculiar than scared. Her eyes, which had been cast down to the cement, reluctantly rose to her fear's façade.

"Here we are…."

The building loomed over her in a taunting manner. The doors looked much larger, yet so far away, when really they were mere feet apart from her. Windows, her own even, seemed dull and lifeless as if no lights were on, though, if she looked hard enough, they indeed were.

School had never been so scary before. She was dreading the moment she pulled the door open to walk inside. What would possibly be waiting for her?

"Kincaid, get a grip…," she mumbled to herself. Tilting her head upwards, she continued, "You knew today was coming… Friday always ends the week…."

The sky decided not to ease her troubles either. Clouds were gathering heavily, thick and dark puffs covered most of the space. Breaks between the masses had a troubling deep purple, which explained the lighter magenta lining of the clouds. Actually, the more Miss Kincaid viewed her surroundings, the more she saw a touch of purple to things.

This had bothered her further; it appeared that a bad storm would be coming soon. Miss Kincaid was never one for loud things….

Her hand found comfort on the bag she was carrying, it slung around one shoulder and hung by her hip. She patted the surface twice; she had made sure she was prepared for this day so that nothing would surprise her.

Within the bag lied an extra case of chalk, just to be cautious, what if she didn't have enough of the substance to make the final line on the tally chart? Beside the chalk was her teacher's manual, which was tucked away safely in case she needed a moment for guidance, as well as the handcuffs and a couple spare keys, with repeat offenders and all, you were never too sure.

Miss Kincaid had the original key in a very safe spot though; it was put on a chain that was around her neck, as if it was a necklace. And even if she told herself it was still safe as it hung on the chain, her anxiety disagreed. That was the reason why she would reach for the silver key and hold it within her grasp every few moments.

There was one more item the young teacher was carrying around with her; it remained in a separate compartment on her shoulder bag. It was a gift from her mother, a brochure all about a nice university dedicated to dentistry. Miss Kincaid's mother had pushed it on her when she had last visited.

She had of course declined the idea the idea of quitting her job as a teacher; she insisted to her mother that the children she taught were very kind and insightful. Miss Kincaid could even remember telling her mom about a few of these students; how a brunette who won the class election by a landslide was very considerate and patient, while a navy haired boy who often wore a hat in class was determined to reach his goals. Unfortunately, the last time she saw her mother it had only been three days after she received the job.

Now as Miss Kincaid stared at the eerily purple shaded school, she made a silent promise to her nagging parent. In all honesty, she would consider the change in occupation if things did not go well.

"No time like the present…," was the weak attempt at a confidence boost she gave herself. Taking a few steps forward, her hand found the handle of the school's main entrance. She pulled the door open and was quickly bombarded by bright lights.

Miss Kincaid immediately squinted her eyes and held her arm in front of her face on instinct as she entered the building. She figured that it had been a lot darker outside than what she thought; especially to get this type of reaction out of her. Once her eyes adjusted she noticed another detail of the school.

Lowering her arm back to her sides, she began to walk down the desolate hallway towards the staircase. Not only did the school seem abandoned, but the lighting was quite odd. Everything seemed to be a shade of blue or have subtle tones of the colour.

Making her way to the staircase finally, Miss Kincaid rested her hand on the railing. She took a long glance over her shoulder, gazing at every spot of empty space and just waiting for something to saunter out of a doorway. Licking her lips, her attention switched to the stairs as she pushed paranoid thoughts away from her.

Miss Kincaid started to climb the staircase, one foot in front of the other in a steady pace. Lonesome stairs like these made her hate echoes; they taunted her with mind games. The sound of shoes against the cold surface would ring in her ears like the aftermath of a bell. It teased her to believe someone was behind her.

Again, anxiety got the best of her. She stopped abruptly, the sound catching in her ears mere seconds after. That was when she spun around, her eyes peering down the accented blue staircase… the colours a lot lighter at the bottom. She was ascending into darkness.

It took her a moment to convince herself she was completely fine, safe and most importantly alone. Her hand found the key on the chain and hugged it within its grasp. Everything would be fine, she took the precautions.

Miss Kincaid gradually began on the stairs again, her pace much slower. One foot would find closure and the other would follow, this occurred cautiously and quietly. She would of course check over her shoulder during the process, but as she got higher she realized the blue lighting was harder to identify.

Yet she knew when she arrived at the floor her classroom was on when the ground levelled off. She took a few steps forward again and was not comforted in the least bit.

Surrounding her was nearly complete darkness. The only touch of light she found was an illuminated sign that read the word 'exit.' Anything could've been lurking within the darkness and she was left hopeless, she wished silently that it was her mind deceiving her with false images and near silent sounds.

Her wish was never granted. A moan drowning with sorrow escaped into the air, and it wasn't her. Miss Kincaid stopped to listen more clearly, but the next sound caused her to tremble. Gurgling soon filled the air; something in the hall was slurping up some type of liquid, sounding quite inhuman.

Miss Kincaid could feel the notion to scream just sitting in her throat, taunting her like the school. Her mouth was hanging open, she pushed herself to do so, just as she was doing so to yell… but no sound came out. She forced the want with all her will; she could almost feel the red of her face as she pressed every hint of air to escape pass her lips, only to suffice with a mere whimper.

She soon tossed that idea out the window as she gasped for air. Choking down oxygen fairly quickly, she planned for a means of escape.

When her brain sent the message to her legs to run, the movements did not come. Miss Kincaid again had to force the command upon herself. She closed her eyes in concentration and mentally screamed at her body to move. Just as tears surfaced within her eyes, the process started to work.

Yet the movements felt so delayed, her actions were going through in slow motion. Her destination was quick steps away, but so far at this pace. She could almost feel the unknown in the hallway, approaching her on its own time.

Suddenly the delay vanished, the force of will made Miss Kincaid crash roughly against the wall. Flinching from the pain, she noticed the sound stop momentarily. Then there was a shuffle heard in the distance, the sound was against metal which clanged further.

She pressed herself against the cold wall. She may not know what this thing was, but it knew where she was. Its breath became uneven and low growls and moans were heard; all sounds courtesy of it sounded hoarse and used… not to mention vengeful.

Miss Kincaid felt the wall with silence, her hand grazing a door knob. Letting out a sigh of relief, she opened the door and felt inside. Her back never left the wall as she found an object to assist her with the want of survival. Never had she been as happy for the Janitor's closet as now as she pulled out a mop for protection.

She gripped the mop's handle with both hands; holding it so hard that her knuckles became white. Her breath escaped her lips heavily as she panted, waiting for the moment this thing struck. But nothing came, and she stood in silence.

The noise that this creature made remained, breaking the chance at silence. It did however tell Miss Kincaid that whatever it was, it wasn't moving. Of course not, it dared her to try to take the upper hand; it wanted her to believe in herself so that when it won it was more devastating.

She needed better chances, and so Miss Kincaid shuffled herself against the wall in the direction back near the stairs. When she made it to the corner, she shakily removed one hand from the handle of the mop. Her fingers lightly brushed the wall's surface and quickly made contact with what she had been searching for.

Again, she had become thankful for such a simple thing. She successfully found the light switch for this floor, now her fingers fumbled over three individual switches. A bright light flashed before her eyes because of the motion, but lasted momentarily. The lighting dulled and flickered, nearly off, as it struggled to hold onto whatever energy it had left. Nonetheless, this was better than pure darkness.

Her eyes continued to play tricks on her, along with the sunspots and the strobe light like lighting of the hallway. She waved the mop in front of her wildly as images of shadows tried to grab her, the screams still would not come. A distant moan broke her out of her thoughts, the same inhuman distress.

Miss Kincaid settled down, she stopped whipping around her weapon threateningly. The images disappeared; her eyes once again had adjusted to unusual circumstances. Yet nothing normal, or expected, was in her range of sight.

The teacher approached it cautiously and mop first. Not that the creature before her made her uneasy anymore, on the other hand, it puzzled her a great deal.

There was a title for things such as this. Phrases like, 'Red at night, sailor's delight; red in the morning, sailor's warning' or 'in like a lion, out like a lamb' often foretold events of the future. The title escaped her; yet as she looked at what was before her, she knew this would be added to the list.

Miss Kincaid stared at the scene before her in befuddlement as she approached; she muttered to herself a possible phrase of her own. "See a caged boy in the morning…? That's definitely a warning…."

Adjusting her glasses, she continued to look over what was before her. She didn't know how it was possible, but a massive, metal cage was pushed against a wall right across from her classroom. Amazingly, that wasn't what surprised her. She was in awe at the fact that inside this cage was a boy; his hands gripped two of the bars that confined him within the box as he fell to his knees.

"K-Kenny… what are you doing in there?" Miss Kincaid questioned, her voice drowned with concern as she knelt on the floor as well. She attempted to read his shaken expression; his shoulders began to quiver as he prepared to speak.

The boy broke down further; emotional sobs took him over while he collapsed onto the metal flooring. "I-I… I didn't do it…," he stated, and then he shook his head, "I didn't do it."

"Kenny…," Miss Kincaid reached to grip a bar of the cage. The inhuman moans and growls had indeed been human, they were Kenny's emotional weeping.

At his name, the boy stood up briskly and turned away from his teacher. All of his cries had seized, instead he curled his fingers to make fists down at his sides.

"Revenge," he muttered sickly, "That's all they wanted…."

"They…?" she inquired.

"Tyson and Hilary, those four kids…," Kenny shrugged nonchalantly, before turning back to Miss Kincaid, "You…. Revenge… that's what it's all about, don't lie to yourself."

Miss Kincaid rose to her feet slowly, gripping the mop out of nerves. "What…?"

"Tyson and Hilary wanted revenge on me because I apparently betrayed them. Those four kids wanted revenge on me because…. Well, I don't want to sound redundant," Kenny scowled, "Then again… they wanted to get back at Tyson and Hilary for reasons beyond my knowledge. My assumption is as followed; they want to show that they shouldn't always get their way, which is where you come in…."

Miss Kincaid took a step backward, repeating the simple question, "What…?"

"They walk all over you, you were sick of it. I can totally understand they do it to me everyday…. But I'm sure you could tell that after yesterday's public display of affection," he sneered, "You knew their actual reasons for fighting, so you decided to play that to you're advantage…."

Her eyes darted around nervously, "What…?"

"Can you not form questions besides that?" Kenny snapped, causing Miss Kincaid to flinch. "Sorry…," he quickly added, "Being in a cage doesn't really boost your mood."

"I can imagine…," Miss Kincaid commented softly.

"Their screams and finger pointing, interruptions and objections, not to mention the embarrassment and pressure they bestowed upon you… was it all too much?" Kenny questioned, his voice careful with a trace of curiosity, "Was it so much that you would rely on revenge?"

She stared at the boy until that had been too much, her eyes fell to the floor. "Why are you in this cage?" she inquired after a moment of silence, "Who would do this to you?"

"Does it really matter?" Kenny sighed as he began to pace within the cage.

"Yes," Miss Kincaid stated sternly, her head shot up to look at one of her best students, "It's not right."

Kenny paused dramatically, his head tilting in her direction with an unimpressed expression written all over it. "It doesn't matter who did this," he corrected, "And Miss Kincaid… don't be a hypocrite, how are you any better than them?"

"I would never…," she began to protest.

"Lock up a student…? No of course not," Kenny interrupted; sarcasm was deep in his voice. "Revenge, Miss Kincaid… only you know the truth."

She shook her head, "It wasn't for revenge…."

Kenny didn't seem to believe her, his expression didn't even register a change. He then pointed towards the classroom door. "Tyson and Hilary are in there if you want to talk to them," he offered plainly.

"Oh… uh yes," Miss Kincaid nodded, "Thank you."

Kenny returned the gesture rigidly, his attention wandered to the mop within her grasp. "Um… no problem," he replied somewhat confused, "Could you do me a favour?"

"Sure," she told him, acting casual as she hid the cleaning utensil behind her back.

"Could you ask one of them to refill my water bowl?" he smiled weakly, he received the dish and handed it to Miss Kincaid through the bars.

She let out a sigh, "That explains the gurgling…."

Kenny kicked the metal flooring, embarrassed; he tried to explain, "Kind of a messy task…."

"Well, at least they put your name on it," Miss Kincaid pointed out, "That's… kind of nice of them."

"I thought so too, until I realized they had devised their plan to such a point it made me uncomfortable," he shrugged, "When you go that insane over revenge, how can you be sure you were ever sane?"

Miss Kincaid shifted her way towards the door, "I'll… keep the door open when class starts so you can listen in."

Kenny didn't seem to take an interest in her anymore, his gaze wandered upwards towards the flickering lights in the distance. He mumbled a near incoherent, "Thank you."

The young teacher silently hoped that this wasn't just a vision of what the day would hold. She opened the door to her classroom reluctantly, poking her head in first. Thankfully, it appeared to be pretty normal within the room, no strange lights or caged boys. And with that thought, she entered the room and closed the door quietly; after all, class had not started yet.

Inside, just like Kenny had told her, Tyson and Hilary were the only students. Both seemed to be in their own worlds, and for once, it being a somewhat unusual scene this week, they were not beside one another. The brunette was sitting in what was Kenny's desk in the back, a school binder in front of her as she wrote vividly. Tyson on the other hand sat on top of a desk a few seats up, his attention directed on the eerie outside world that revealed itself through the window.

"Good morning Miss Kincaid," Hilary greeted her with a polite nod in acknowledgement.

Somewhat startled, she smiled weakly, "Oh… uh, good morning Hilary. How are you today?"

"Fine," she answered, adorning a small smile. She then turned to the capped boy, "Tyson, don't you want to say something to Miss Kincaid?"

"Huh…?" he replied dumbly, his head reluctantly faced the girl. Obviously being caught within a daydream, he stumbled to recover; he again switched his attention, "Morning…."

"Good morning to you too, Tyson," Miss Kincaid forced another smile as she made her way to her desk. She decided to drop the conversation with him there; she knew he wasn't much of a morning person.

Their interest seemed to have died when concerning their teacher, which made Miss Kincaid relieved, because they went back to what they had been doing. She took the opportunity to become settled; she removed the bag from her shoulder once she put down the bowl and leaned the mop against the wall.

"Hey Miss Kincaid, why are you carrying around a mop…?" Tyson questioned, his tone was laced with curiosity even if his gaze was looking through the glass of the window.

"Oh… um," Miss Kincaid stalled for time to think of a conveying lie, she didn't want to sound like the wimp she knew she semi was. "Well… you can never be too cautious when a mess may be on your hands, or should I say flooring… ha ha ha…."

Tyson and Hilary glanced to their teacher incredulously, the capped boy even quirked an eyebrow at the joke. Miss Kincaid continued to nervously laugh in a soft tone until it disappeared into silence.

"Good one Miss Kincaid," Tyson smiled, offering up a laugh out of sympathy, "You put the 'Ha' in Ha-larious!"

"Too bad it's not spelt that way…," Hilary sighed.

Tyson's expression crumbled to form a frown. "Uh… hate to break it to you Hil, but yeah it is."

"No Tyson, it's not. It's H-I-L… not H-A-L," Hilary spelt the beginning of the word for him.

The boy sighed, "So I guess you put the 'Hil' in Hil-arious, am I right?"

She seemed to think about that for a moment, her features became thoughtful. "I guess so…," she giggled somewhat at the detail, "You can't spell 'Hilarity' without Hilary."

Miss Kincaid noticed Tyson had turned perplexed.

"You just remove the 'it' and you get my name…," she continued, practically telling him why her joke was funny to no avail. "Oh… never mind…."

"Good, because that was awful," Tyson smirked.

"Yeah… well you… you put the 'Ty' in…," Hilary scowled to herself, unable to think of anything good, "In… typical…. You know if you… pronounce it totally wrong."

"Ow, Hilary," Tyson rolled his eyes, "You know, after today I'm really going to miss you jibes and lectures. Oh but wait… that happened before we were handcuffed to one another, guess I can't mourn that loss."

"Tyson," Miss Kincaid called upon him suddenly, not wanting the fight she managed to spring to go any further. He now looked at her expectantly; she continued, "Could you please open the window?"

Their somewhat irked dispositions vanished as Tyson and Hilary glanced to one another. "Are you sure that's a good idea Miss Kincaid?" the brunette voiced inquisitively.

"Yeah…," Tyson nodded, seemingly alarmed over the matter, "The purple may get inside."

"The… purple?" Miss Kincaid repeated skeptically.

The boy gestured for her to look out the window, which she did. He pointed towards the sky, "Worst purple I've ever seen… see it swirling up there? That can't be good."

"Tyson… I can understand your concern for rain or the wind to blow indoors, but a colour can't get inside through an open space," Miss Kincaid sighed.

She thought she had gotten through to him when he started to laugh. "Good one Miss Kincaid," he grinned, this time being sincere, "But purple clouds don't bring rain. They're just menacing… especially to buildings that contain motive deniers."

"Motive deniers…?" Miss Kincaid questioned.

"Relax Miss Kincaid, it's not like you've ever done something to get back at someone and told yourself a whole other story," Tyson shrugged, "Probably after Kenny… if he only told us the truth."

Hilary frowned sadly, "I wish it didn't turn out like this…."

Tyson approached the brunette and wrapped his arm around her. "Don't you worry Hil," he told her, "Everything will be alright… if there's anything you ever want to talk about…."

"I know Tyson," Hilary smiled, giving him a peck on the cheek, "I know."

A screaming pain jolted through Miss Kincaid's head at the moment, like massive alarms had went off. She consoled it with her hand, rubbing her temple with the use of her fingers.

"Miss Kincaid, are you okay?" Tyson asked with concern, his arm drifting off from its place around Hilary so he could take a few steps towards their teacher. "You don't look so good…."

"I'm fine… it's just I… remembered something," she answered softly; his expression was unbelieving, "Happens to me all the time."

Tyson contemplated this over before shrugging, "Well then… I'd hate to be you when that happens… does it hurt?"

"Hmm? Oh… oh, no," Miss Kincaid shook her head, obviously lying, "Not one bit, I'm quite used to it."

"So… what did you remember?" Hilary asked.

"Right… um, Kenny wanted to know something," Miss Kincaid stated, picking up the bowl off her desk for visual aid, "He wanted to know if one of you would mind refilling his water dish."

"Uh… okay, sure," Tyson shrugged nonchalantly, he reached for the item when Miss Kincaid pulled back abruptly. He looked at her confused, "Is there a problem?"

Their teacher frowned as she hid the object behind her back. "I'm very disappointed in you two," she told them straight out, "How could you put poor Kenny in a cage, regardless of yesterday's events?"

"Wait, wait, wait," Tyson repeated in a shocked chant, he gave her another puzzled look, "He said what now…? We did not put him in a cage; he was like that when we came."

Miss Kincaid stood sternly, "Do you expect me to believe that?"

"Did he really tell you that Hil and I did that to him?" Tyson frowned as he glanced back at his saddened partner. "I don't get it… he told you we did it?"

"Well…," Miss Kincaid paused, "Not exactly… he said they did it, they wanted revenge, etc."

"See, that proves it," Tyson smirked, "He calls his allies by the same name. They're the ones who did this to him… now, if you'll give me that bowl."

Miss Kincaid shook her head in refusal, "And what if he considers you they and them when he's with… the other them? I don't know for sure, but he did list you and Hilary, that other group of children and… and… someone else I can't recall…."

"Why was he listing us in the first place?" Hilary questioned as she stood up from her seat.

"I believe it was about whom wanted…," Miss Kincaid gulped, "Revenge…."

Tyson exchanged another glance with Hilary as she walked beside him. "So what do you think… friends' revenge or peers' revenge?"

"It could always be someone else's revenge," Hilary pointed out, crossing her arms in thought.

"Who else would stick Kenny in a cage?" Tyson sighed, "We do have a motive, as do the four kids he had helping him, but why would anyone else go through this much trouble?"

"Maybe this wasn't the case of revenge he was referring to…?" Hilary guessed with a slight shrug of the shoulders.

"Is that possible Miss Kincaid; is there another case of revenge going on within our classroom?" Tyson asked curiously, "Maybe that involves us…?"

The true answer to that was multiple, but she was not going to tell them that. "No," Miss Kincaid refused, "There are no other situations a brew because of revenge, this classroom is not used for revenge."

Their curious and expectant expressions vanished into ones of seriousness that held a trace of incredulity. "Well Miss Kincaid," Hilary spoke up, her tone had lost any interest it may have held, "We should get on with the favour we've been asked of."

Tyson nodded in agreement, "Now if you'll give us the bowl…?" He held out his hand like a parent would when getting ready to confiscate one of their child's belongings. The persona he put on was the same, thus having the power over Miss Kincaid as she handed him the object.

As the plastic touched the capped boy's fingertips it seemed he had too became bored with their teacher. He sighed dully, taking hold of the item, "Come on, Hilary let's go."

The brunette simply nodded and the pair walked towards the classroom door. Miss Kincaid watched them, Hilary opening the door and stepping outside, the brief glance of Kenny within the flickering lights looking listlessly into nothing, and Tyson walking out into the hallway, only he turned back.

Before shutting the door, he smiled. A somewhat haunting smile that brought the same dread she felt right before she knew the key had gone missing. "Beware of purple…," he reminded before the click of the door had made him vanish from her sight.

Miss Kincaid let out a deep sigh, breaking the stillness of the room, as she retreated to her desk. Pulling out the swivel chair, she collapsed into it. The day had not even begun and she was already exhausted.

Her hand found the key on the chain unconsciously; grasping the metal eased her nerves. It was amazing how things that made no sense at all were what scared her most. Her grip on the silver item was so tight that she could almost feel the object beginning to crumble; she forced herself to stop.

She found herself watching the sky uncomfortably; the words Tyson said were stuck in her mind. She could not even begin to comprehend how clouds, that just so happen to be purple, were known for searching and haunting those who denied their motives. Yet she could not turn around from the various shades and possibilities, Miss Kincaid was entranced.

"Why so interested…?"

The young teacher jumped. She began to look around frantically for the person who held this voice, a much muffled voice… one she thought she knew well but couldn't place a name to it. The attempt was failed; no one was in the room… just her and the mop. Surely she wasn't that far gone….

"I'm sorry…?" Miss Kincaid frowned, eyeing the mop suspiciously.

"It's because you know the truth," the muffled voice continued. The statement was followed by movements near the back of the room; it sounded like someone was struggling within the cupboards that aligned against the back wall.

Miss Kincaid watched the scene before her blankly. After a few hard pounds against one of the cupboard's doors, it swung open as a boy crashed onto the floor. He yelped slightly on contact before standing up briskly, his hands dusting and smoothing off his clothing. He then resided his hands on his hips.

"You know the truth, don't you?" he repeated, acting as if his entrance had been flawless.

"What truth…?" Miss Kincaid questioned.

"The true reason why the purple clouds are here," another voice stated, bringing her attention to the right. With one quick movement, the curtains were whipped away revealing yet another boy. "It's not because of Kenny."

She stared at him weirdly, "What were you doing hiding in my curtains?"

The curtain boy pouted as he pointed to his friend. "You didn't mention him popping out of cupboards, I'm sure that doesn't happen everyday…."

"That's true," Miss Kincaid nodded thoughtfully, "But I didn't want to hurt his feelings… he fumbled his entrance and all."

"Aww, thanks Miss Kincaid," the cupboard boy smiled, "I'm going to bring you an apple on Monday."

She smiled back, "Oh you shouldn't, thank you though."

"Courtesy for courtesy," the cupboard boy waved his hand freely, he then paused to think, "Wait… what were we talking about?"

Curtain boy spoke up, "The truth of the clouds."

"And why you're the reason they're here Miss Kincaid," yet another voice entered the conversation. A head popped out from around a filing cabinet that was against the far left wall near the back.

The cupboard and curtain boys looked at each other unimpressed. "That's where you hid…?"

File cabinet boy scowled at his partners, "You guys took all the good hiding places! What was I supposed to do, put a lamp shade on my head and pretend I'm a… well a lamp?"

"Classic…," curtain boy laughed.

Cupboard boy merely rolled his eyes, his attention now back on Miss Kincaid. "Do you get what we're trying to say?" he wondered, "You know… through the interruptions?"

"I think so…," Miss Kincaid shrugged.

"Then we'll just have a recap to be safe…," he decided, coughing loudly into his closed fist.

The weird thing was, nobody made a move to actually restate anything. That is until someone tapped lightly on Miss Kincaid's knee, causing her to jump yet again. She pushed her chair back to see a girl crouched under her desk, which waved wearing an awkward smile.

"Hey there… can you believe I didn't even stop to think you'd sit down…?" the girl laughed faintly. Miss Kincaid offered a weak smile as she got out of her chair and proceeded to pull it out of the way. From this action the girl was able to scramble her way out of her hiding place and stand at the head of the class. "Thanks…."

"Anytime," Miss Kincaid shrugged.

Cupboard boy exhaled a deep sigh of frustration. "Recap please…," he reminded, holding the bridge of his nose with his hand out of annoyance.

"Oh… right. Miss Kincaid, only you know the truth as to why these purple clouds are surrounding our fair school. They seek motive deniers and you've… well obviously, denied your motives. Motives based on… uh… based on…? Okay, okay… I know this, it's sitting on the tip of my tongue…," the girl scowled as she suddenly looked at the palm of her hand. Squinting, she beckoned closer to her palm, "Based on… beverage? That doesn't sound right to me…."

"That's because it's not," curtain boy sighed, "Based on revenge… motives based on revenge. How awful is your handwriting?"

"Oh yeah, well how awful is your shut-up?" the girl stuck out her tongue childishly.

"Silence!" cupboard boy screamed, and then he took a deep breath. "I'll take over from there…. You see Miss Kincaid, you caused those menacing clouds… you've caused a lot of pain, think of poor Kenny."

"I didn't do anything to Kenny," Miss Kincaid told them, "He could possibly be locked up out there because of you."

"Why, because he mentioned us?" file cabinet boy smirked, coming fully out of his hiding place. "The four kids strike again… yeah, we're pure evil. How do we know you didn't do it…? He said your name too, but of course you didn't mention that to Tyson and Hilary."

"Why was that Miss Kincaid?" curtain boy frowned, "Was it that you didn't want their opinion of you to change or… you didn't want them to find out you actually did it?"

"I didn't do it," Miss Kincaid stated.

The girl shook her head sadly, "Another motive denied…."

"Miss Kincaid, everything that's happened this week can trace back to one single moment where you decided you've had enough," cupboard boy sighed sympathetically, "So you calculated and imagined and went into every little detail and explored them until depths became simple."

She shook her head, "No… I didn't…."

"You knew they fought so heatedly not because they hated one another, no on the contrary… you could see their emotions, the ones they tried so hard to hide," cupboard boy continued, "When you play with people's emotions, a very strong and powerful weapon, they're easier to control. So you chose to play that to your advantage."

"W-what are you talking about…?" Miss Kincaid asked.

"Tyson and Hilary are both very emotional people. Get them riled up, expect them to snap back. Make them upset, they can sure hold a grudge. Put them in a position where they have to get along, they'll go through the lengths," cupboard boy shrugged, "You knew if you pushed them, they'd push back… right into each other's arms."

"But you didn't know something," curtain boy added with a shrug, "Love's definition changes for each couple, you figured that when they discovered their feelings all arguments would seize. Then you saw the horror… when they were genuine, lover's quarrels were a norm."

"That may be true…," Miss Kincaid said softly, "But how is that revenge…? I didn't do it for revenge… I was trying to help."

"Were you Miss Kincaid?" the cupboard boy scoffed, "You just couldn't wait to see them happy and together? Or did you want to see their fear, their displeasure at constantly being around the one person who makes them uncomfortable regardless of the fact that they've known each other forever? The latter is most likely…."

She gulped nervously, "No…."

"Revenge Miss Kincaid," cupboard boy smirked knowingly, he shook his head slowly, "Teacher's revenge."

"You know what love can do to people…," the girl sighed dreamily.

"Can't eat," pointed out file cabinet boy.

"Can't sleep," added curtain boy.

Cupboard boy frowned, "Killing off Tyson practically…."

"Which gets rid of Hilary's greatest pet peeve," the girl said, "All problems fixed: Tyson's normal, Hilary's calm, Miss Kincaid can teach without interruptions. Sounds like a good plan to me."

"But did you ever think about the other students?" cupboard boy questioned as he snapped his fingers.

Moments later the classroom door opened, the children she taught began to enter. They swayed left and right as they walked into the room, dull expressions worn on their faces. These children did not approach their desks; they instead made a semi circle around Miss Kincaid. None of them made a sound; they just stared at her with little interest.

The boy who had tumbled his way out of the cupboard now pushed himself to the head of the crowd. A near sneer was expressed on his face, "You ruined the game."

"You ruined the game…," was repeated in a unified chant, one that sounded bored stiff.

"Over revenge," the boy continued, making a fist.

The chant obeyed, "Over revenge…."

He then pumped his fist into the air, "And now you shall pay!"

Suddenly the crowd became lively, their eyes gleamed with anger. "And now you shall pay…."

Miss Kincaid pressed herself against the wall as the crowd of students began to enclose on her, breathing the words the boy had proclaimed. These kids were now ridden with reasons to hate, scowls embraced their features.

The teacher fell to her knees, watching the lead four kids become absorbed into the mass of students. She recoiled, curling herself into a ball, protecting herself with her arms as they crept closer and closer.

"Please don't let them get me, please don't let them get me, please don't let them get me…!"

Her wishes died in their own chants; their vocals being much louder and their uncaring grudge continued on, just as they paced closer and closer.

Closer and closer….

"NO!"

A shrill scream finally broke into the air since she had arrived at the school. And yet… it just made her feel stranger. Terror was running through her veins, throbbing harder with every beat of the heart, as she opened her once closed eyes. The sight confused her; it made no sense.

"And good morning folks on this Friday, let's all have a good one. The weather is agreeing with us yet again, isn't that right Phil?"

Miss Kincaid jumped at the voice as she whipped around to stare brazenly at what was before her. A small, simple alarm clock set on a station which was now telling her the weather outside. She wasn't sure if she should laugh or cry, even if she was too stunned to do either.

"It was a dream…."

The comforting words never seemed to work, she was still surprised she attempted them still. Everything was all too similar… the cold sweat that weighed in her palms, the unsettled breathing that accompanied uncertain glances around the room and of course the realization. Fear had already been set in, yet Friday had not even begun.

Swinging her feet over the edge of her bed, her skin met the carpet. She sat a moment, letting things sink in. Through the familiarities there was one difference, the dream. It was new and unknown and most of all, it scared her. Here she was, hating monotony in reality and wanting consistency in dreams.

She listened to Phil, the weather guy, banter on about bright skies and a cloudless day as she found herself untrusting. So like the anxious young woman she was, she stealthily approached the window of her bedroom. Pulling on the draw string, the curtains pulled apart revealing the outside world.

Miss Kincaid went to reach for the key on the chain, to grasp the metal for ease. But when her fingers merely felt air, she ridiculed herself. There was no key because it was all a dream, and this window proved it.

Not a single purple cloud was in sight, decorating the sky in its menacing ways of torment. Though she told herself it was okay to be a little cautious right before uttering words she had believed were lies.

"It was for revenge…."

A/N: And it was all a dream… amazing what fear and the conscience can do when they work together. Anyways, I'm sure a lot of you caught on to the fact that this wasn't reality… you know with the whole Kenny in a cage thing, the inability to move at a normal pace, the weird lighting everywhere she went, etc. Nonetheless, it was fun to write. Don't forget to review!