Disclaimer- If I owned X-Men: Evolution I'd have Pyro running around naked wielding his fire.

Chapter Ten- Unwanted Attention

Three months had passed since the beach. There had been few phone calls, but all of them didn't have anything new. It had always been the same. They found nothing.

John walked down the empty hallway of his school, his backpack slung over his shoulder. He was a half an hour late so nearly everybody was already in their classes. John sighed. Mr. Jett wasn't going to be happy with him.

Mr. Jett was his third grade teacher. He was tall, middle-aged, and very grumpy. He seemed to have disliked John the moment he set foot into his classroom. John had wondered why at first as Mr. Jett was increasingly unfair to him but he figured it was probably because he had hated Chris when he taught him in sixth grade. The teacher probably thought it would be easier to handle nine-year olds instead of twelve-year olds.

Ha, yeah right.

"St. John!" somebody girly said breathlessly behind him. He turned around just to see Naomi exit the girls' bathroom.

"Wot?" he grumbled, not in the mood to talk to anyone at the moment. Especially her.

"Oy just wanted to say that Oy'm sorry 'bout your sister," she said, for once being pleasant to him. John made a face and turned around again, hitching his thumbs under the straps of his backpack.

"Shove off," he barked with his back facing her. He heard her growl and stomp on the ground in a tantrum. He smirked. John loved getting Naomi Harrison annoyed.

"Jerk!" he heard her call at his back as he continued to walk down the hall and towards his classroom.

Hanging his backpack on his hook outside of the classroom door, John took a deep breath before entering. He tried to as silently as possible, but Mr. Jett was expecting something like that when John had not turned up but was not called in absent in the office.

"Allerdyce!" Jett barked and John jumped a foot in the air.

"You're late!" Jett snarled, grabbing John roughly by the shoulder and steering him towards the chalkboard in the front.

"I want that board filled with 'I must not be late for Mr. Jett's class again.' Got it?" Jett jabbed a finger at John's chest. John nodded vehemently.

Grabbing a piece of chalk on the ledge, John began to write on the board. He threw a disgruntled look at Ian, who sat in the front row. Ian shrugged and shook his head.

Mr. Jett's dull voice filled his ears and he wrote the same sentence over and over and over again. He tried to listen and remember all the details but he couldn't. He wondered if Mr. Jett was doing this on purpose so John would fail the third grade.

Wait...no; Mr. Jett should be practically giving the answers to John. He wouldn't want him for another year. Or maybe he just enjoyed torturing him.

Probably the latter.

He felt the stares that he was receiving on the back of his neck, but he tried to ignore them. Something hit him behind the ear. Something that was suspiciously wet. Reaching to see whatever it was, he discovered it had been a spitball. He made a soft growl in the back of his throat and glanced behind him to try to figure out whom it was.

Marlin Dobson was giggling in the middle row with a bunch of his friends. He was going to really hurt that kid someday.

"Get back to writing, Allerdyce," Jett's harsh voice cut into his thoughts. John sighed again and continued to write for the better part of the day.

. . . . . . . . . . .

John banged the door open and threw his backpack across the living room.

He hated school. And he hated Mr. Jett. He wanted to kill him.

And he hated that jerk Marlin Dobson, also known as Mr. Popular. He wanted to pound his pretty face so hard it would appear in the back of his head.

Was that even possible? John thought. He nodded. Yes, he decided it was if he tried hard enough.

"Wot the hell are you so cheerful about?" Chris snarled. He was sprawled on the couch, smoking a cigarette and drinking one of their parents' beers. John had failed to notice his presence when he entered.

"Oy really, really, really, hate that Jett!" John pounded his fist into his hand, walking over to sit on the couch by Chris's feet. He wasn't looking, since he landed right on top of them. Chris grimaced slightly and yanked them out from under John.

Chris blew smoke at the ceiling. He sighed and looked at his little brother. "Want me to kill him?" he asked seriously. John stared at him for a moment, wondering if he was joking or not. He shook his head no just in case.

Chris shrugged lazily and took a sip of the beer in his hand. John's brow furrowed and he frowned.

"Guess Mum and Dad aren't home?" he asked casually as he stared at the beverage.

Chris rolled his eyes. "Noo," he said sarcastically, "I drink beer all the time when they're home. 'Course they're not here, dumbass."

"Well can I have some then?" John asked reaching out his hand.

Chris kicked it away and snorted. "No, you're too young."

"Well so are you!" John argued, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Not as young as you," Chris said nonchalantly and took another swig.

John punched Chris in the shin. Chris just kicked him right back.

"Go, I don't want your attention right now, brat," Chris said, putting out his cigarette on the ashtray lying on the floor beside the couch.

. . . . . . . .

Wow, the chapters just keep getting shorter and shorter, don't they? And I've written it three months later cause I really need to get this story moving.

Xxpyroxx- We don't know if John has siblings. I just made these ones up. Thanks for reviewing!

Dragon- Nope, Irene isn't Rogue. Thanks for your review!

Also thanks for reviewing- AriKitten, childrenwithblades, xmengirlzrule, Anon(girl), Lieutenant Lindsey, Insanebunneh, starbryte234, crazy4horses, Shadow-Spider, and pyros-gal!

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