School wasn't as bad as it could have been. They were finished the Crucible, and it was time to work on their final project. Apparently they'd be reading The Odyssey next, which Zuko supposed was better than over read Shakespeare plays. Not that Shakespeare was bad, just that he'd already read most of them, a fact he was reluctant to admit.

"Zuko," his teacher said as the bell rang. "Can I speak to you for a moment?"

He felt his anxiety bubble to the surface, and tried his best to force it down. What would she have to say anyways? He didn't do anything wrong.

The rest of the class filtered out, Katara giving him a look that he assumed meant he'd be asked about it later. She hadn't been as pushy as Toph had warned him she could be. Zuko guessed it was in part because they weren't close enough yet. Part of him wasn't sure he wanted to be. There was still a fear, deep down, that anybody he let in would leave. Better to build walls, and push people away. Even if they were chipping them down slowly.

"Yes Mrs. Sato?" he asked when the last of the students left the classroom. His hands were sweating.

She smiled at him, her black hair tied back in an elegant combination of swirls. "I just wanted to talk about where you are in the class. We have a test later this week, do you think you're prepared for it? I know you started on this text late."

Of course that's all she wanted, What more would there be? Aang had probably told Korra about his anxiety attack, but Zuko wasn't sure whether Korra would have told her wife.

"I should be okay," he answered with a shrug. It was more apathetic than he'd meant to. He really did enjoy the class, and the literature they deconstructed. "I managed to catch up, and borrowed Katara's notes on the parts I missed."

Asami nodded, she leaned back against her desk, arms helping to support her weight. It was odd for Zuko. No teacher had really taken the time to care before.

"And how are you doing?" she asked him gently.

He shrugged again. "I mean I'm here aren't I?" That seemed to be enough for her, judging by her smile. It was true, school was difficult enough that if he wasn't feeling well, he just wouldn't go. As it was, he'd have to take another year to catch up, or study at home and challenge the courses to get the credits.

The bell rang again and Zuko excused himself, before rushing to his next class.

It was in the hallway that he ran into Jet.

"Hey, Zuko," Jet smiled, and Zuko wasn't sure how to feel about the way he looked at him.

"What's up?" he replied, moving to the side of the hallway to avoid the foot traffic of annoyed students. Jet didn't seem to care, even as people tried to push their way past him.

"Oh, just wondering how you're doing," he said with perfect innocence. Zuko didn't trust it. Was there a rumour going around about him? It seemed odd to have his teacher ask him, followed by Jet just a few minutes later.

"I'm alright, yourself?" He tried to sound as nonchalant as possible as he spoke, eyes scanning the hallway for the quickest exits. It wasn't that he couldn't take Jet in a fight, it'd be easy to take him down, it's that he really didn't want to. He'd already gotten into one fight, better to wait for something good to happen first. Gotta even that shit out.

Jet pulled out a cigarette. "'Bout to head for a smoke. Want one?" he held the box to Zuko.

The bell rang again, signalling the start of the next class. Fuck it, he was already late. Besides, it wasn't the first time he'd skipped with Jet. Not even the second.

"Sure, why not."

It was cold as he stood outside, the gravel beneath his shoes digging in at odd angles.

The cigarette smoke burned in his throat and lungs as he breathed it in, and held it. He could feel his shaking hands relax at the feeling. At this point, Zuko wasn't sure whether it was actually the nicotine, or if just the idea of a cigarette was enough to calm his nerves.

"I was thinking," Jet began, leaning against the chain link fence. "Why are you even here? I know you're living with your uncle, but why?"

"It's not something I really want to talk about," it was weak to say it, Zuko knew it, but he really didn't want to talk about it. He knew Jet was in foster care, so he figured the question wouldn't come up. Most kids in his experience didn't bother asking why somebody wasn't living with their parents. Besides, what would he say? He was abused? He'd deserved it. Tried to kill himself? No, that was fucking stupid. Accidental OD would be a better explanation. People would understand that. It wouldn't make him look as weak.

Jet let out what sounded like a laugh at that, before breathing in more smoke. "You know," he said after a moment. "You've always fascinated me."

"I'm sorry?" Zuko asked, seeking clarification.

Jet smirked at him, a way that Zuko wasn't all too fond of, but it's not like he'd never seen it before. "I don't know. You're so unique. Secretive, and mysterious." He took another puff of his cigarette, and his face grew dark. "I wonder," he took a step towards Zuko, entering his space. "What would you do if those secrets came out?"

His breath caught, but he managed to push the panic down before stepping back. "I don't know what you're talking about." He didn't know. He couldn't. But Jet was watching him with that look. The one that said he knew everything, saw through all the lies.

The air was thick with tension, it was practically palatable.

Jet opened his mouth to speak again, but was cut off by the high pitched ring of Zuko's phone.

Suddenly the tension was broken. Jet stepped back, allowing more space to grow between the two. He dropped his cigarette and ground it into the dirt with the toe of his shoe.

"Should probably get that," he said, before walking back towards the school, leaving Zuko in a stunned silence.

Fuck.

The phone call was from Aang, of course. It was preceded by several text messages, none of which he bothered responding to. Instead, he put out his smoke against the fence, shoving the rest into his bag. Was it safe? No. Did he care? Also no.

The study hall supervisor barely glanced his way when he walked into class, but that didn't matter. As long as she spotted him, his absence would be changed to a late, which was much easier to excuse.

Aang was at their usual table, rolling a pencil away from him, only to watch it roll back. He must have been nervous.

"Sorry I'm late," Zuko said as he put his bag on an empty chair. The rest of the students thankfully ignored them.

The smile on Aang's face made Zuko relax a little. "I was worried something was wrong. Katara said Asami wanted to talk to you after class, and then you weren't here."

He shrugged. "I got distracted. So, what are you working on?"

The period continued as if nothing had happened, even though Zuko had missed a substantial amount of it. If Aang smelled the smoke on his clothes, he didn't mention it. Maybe Iroh would, or maybe he'd decide to cut his losses and let Zuko do whatever until he turned eighteen. Oh what a time that would be. Nobody to fuss over him or tell him what to do. No school or priorities. Just drinking and partying. Maybe he could travel north of the border, for the lower legal drinking age. The drive wasn't that far.

Eventually, he did manage to focus on his work. He reviewed the notes he copied from Katara about The Crucible, and made notes for their upcoming essay.

When the bell rang, Zuko hardly noticed. He may have missed that class too if Aang hadn't gotten his attention.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

No, Zuko thought. Diving into work was easier than trying to figure out what was going on with Jet, and if he had to be concerned.

AP History wasn't as easy as AP English, but it was something. He didn't see why the college credits would be so important, considering he wasn't planning on going to college,. The teacher was talking about the Natives that resided in Mexico before the Spanish came and fucked them all.

The class felt like it was dragging on forever as he listened to the thing's he already knew, and he father pretended didn't happen. Because of course he did.

A phone chimed, and the class turned to look. It wasn't Zuko's, thankfully. The teacher walked to confiscate the phone when two more chimed.

"Is everything alright?" the teacher asked, glancing at a student who checked her phone.

"Nothing important," the girl said as she looked at her phone. "Apparently Azula Sozin, the Senator's daughter, is now the brand face for an exclusive fashion designer."

Of course she did. And just his luck, this happens when Jet is baring his fucking teeth. Zuko would feel the nausea rolling in his stomach.

The teacher sighed, and reminded the students that phones are banned unless an exception is made by the teacher, which he is most definitely not doing.

The phones are put on silent, and the teacher tries his best to drag the buzzing classroom's attention back to an important part of history.

It was futile.

When the bell rang for lunch, it was such a relief that Zuko would hardly believe it. History was the only class he had no friends in, which made the news about Azula feel a little bit worse.

Zuko pushed away the thought. He didn't care whether his perfect sister got the perfect job. He wasn't even really her brother anymore, not since his father practically disowned him.

Some part of Zuko, instinctual and eager to please, wonders how long he'd going to be kept from home. Iroh' s house was worse and small, and sale. No staff, or enough hallways to confuse him, and he's grown up there. Instead he could hide in his room, sit under the spot where Lu Ten hanged himself. Or he could sit in the living room, surrounded by old photos and knick knacks, statues made of glass or crystal, lined with gold.

He didn't care. He couldn't.

Finding his friends was easy. Sokka already had a spoon balanced on his nose, desperately trying to impress Suki. From the look on her face, it wasn't working.

Katara smiled in greeting. Apparently whatever concerns she had over him staying later to talk to Asami were diminished. "How you are doing?" she asked, friendly. They never talked much in class.

Lunch continued with the exchange on conversation and the trading of food. He ended up laughing. The feeling was so liberating.

Everything felt fine.

Until it didn't.

Jet approached the table, his crew of siblings and delinquents behind him, he had something in his hands.

"Katara," he said, using the same smirk he often tried to use on Zuko. "Good to see you."

"What are you doing here Jet?" Sokka snapped, adjusting himself so he could easily leave his seat if the need arises. He would probably fight Jet if needed.

"I'm just saying hello to my friend," he nodded to Zuko, something akin to boastful pride in his eyes.

"Fuck off Jet," Toph piped up, and Suki settled into a similar positions as Sokka. That would be a fight to see.

"Well, I just wanted to set the record straight," Jet answered. He tossed the paper on the table. But it wasn't a paper at all. It was a magazine. One that was pretty involved in slandering minors, despite several lawsuits. Some of which were by his own father

The magazines issue wasn't new, if the date was anything to go by. It was dated a month ago, when he would have been in the front page had a photo of his face, large letters written about and below, read: Where is Zuko Sozin? and Senator Ozai's Son Missing From Press Conference.

There's a stunned silence for a moment, before Toph spoke. "What's going on?" she asked, her voice edged.

Katara snatched the magazine, opening it to read whatever slanderous story was written about he and his family.

Why was he even surprised?

"What the fuck?" she asked, looking up to meet his eyes. Zuko wasn't sure he'd ever seen such rage in somebody before. "Is this true?" her voice was flat.

"It's a lot to explain-" he tried.

"Is this fucking true?" she snapped. "I don't want excuses. I want facts."

"Is what true?" Toph added, only to be ignored.

"Katara, calm-" Sokka began.

"No!" she shouted at him. "I am not going to fucking calm down!" her attention turned back to Zuko. "Is it true? Are you that bastard's son?"

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck!

"Katara-"

"Is it fucking true?!"

The entire cafeteria was watching them now. He felt his heart speeding impossibly quick. Tears pricked at the edges of his eyes. Jet stood, smirking.

"Yes," he whispered. Years of self hate crashing down at once, He had just been getting comfortable, of course it would fuck up. He was worthless, only caused pain and problems. There was so much he could say, but the weight of the world was crushing him. There was no point.

The group, to their credit, seemed stunned into silence.

All except Toph. "You're who's son?" she was confused. Zuko wondered who would explain it to her. Probably Aang.

"I trusted you," Katara said, her word shook with rage. "I fucking trusted you, and you turned out to be a lying bastard." She stood up, collecting her things. "Don't you dare ever speak to me again." With that, she left.

Sokka at least gave him a sad glance, before he silently followed his sister. Which seemed to be enough for Suki, as she started packing up her things more slowly, but eventually followed them out.

"I'm sorry," Aang told him as he stood. "I need to talk to them. Come on Toph."

"What the fuck is happening?" she snapped, clearly annoyed at being left out.

"I'll explain, lets go," he sounded sad.

"But Zuko-" she tried to protest.

"Toph."

That seemed to be enough. With a sigh, she stood. "I'll message you, sparky," she told him, as Aang led her from the room.

Jet gave a small laugh, before leaning too close for comfort. "Don't ever fuck with me," he said, before he strode confidently from the room.

And just like that, Zuko was alone.