Standing Disclaimer: I don't own.

Author's Note: I'm still not too sure whether I want to follow the movie verse or not. It's just more fun to deal with their social problems but I'm sure I'll fit hockey in there soon. Rated for swearing and issues that they deal/will deal with. I'll up the rating if anyone has a problem with it.

:: Bottle Up and Explode ::

:: Chapter Two ::

Kenny walked out of class feeling disoriented and a little lost. He hated new schools. He hated everything about it, making new friends, finding classrooms, adjusting to new school systems, just everything. He moved to Eden Hall because he thought it would give him a better chance at getting into a nice school and he already had friends there, the Ducks. How bad could it be?

Unfortunately, as he walked out of English class, he seemed to have lost track of Dwayne, Julie, who was oddly irritable, and Adam. He sighed and checked his schedule. They were nearing the end of the first week and Kenny knew from past experience that it would take him at least another week to feel somewhat comfortable in this setting. He doubted that he could ever feel completely comfortable in the uptight, pompous air that he was completely not suited for.

He found his locker and stuffed his English book back in there and pulled out his geometry textbook. His math class would be on the…Kenny checked his schedule. Second floor. And he now officially wasted seven minutes of his ten minute break in between classes deep in thought. Zipping up his backpack, he absently turned around to run smack into a big goon of a Varsity player.

"Hey, what the fuck do you think you're doing?" he said. Kenny raised his hands.

"Sorry," he said. He was a pacifist when it came to most things. Almost nothing could get him to resort to violence.

"Stupid chink," the Varsity player muttered as he walked away. Except that. Kenny was about to launch himself at the asshole when he felt himself getting pulled back.

"Whoa there, junior, what do you think you're doing?" It was Russ, looking at him with amusement and bewilderment.

"Nothing," he said, wrestling out of Russ' hold. "I'll see you at lunch." He left Russ standing there looking kind of confused but at the moment, Kenny was really not in the mood to confide to his friend about what just happened. What was he doing? What was he doing here at Eden Hall, to be more specific.

"Fuck if I know," Kenny muttered.

Averman was trying not to limp to class as he rubbed the bruise on his upper leg. It felt like his old leg had gone dead. It was like when Peter used to give him dead arms when he was ten, except ten times worse and it was his leg. He walked to his American history class thanking whoever was listening to his prayers that he wasn't smart enough to be in the AP history class which meant he wouldn't have to face Banks.

He swore silently when he saw Connie, Guy, and Charlie already sitting there, however.

"Hey Averman," Connie said, waving him over. Averman sat down, not noticing the fact that Charlie was uncharacteristically cross, glaring at the front board. Guy's face was expressionless as he stared out the window, apparently deep in thought.

"What's the matter, Guy?" Connie asked, gently pulling on Guy's arm. Guy quickly pulled his arm from her grip.

"Nothing," he said, with a slight, strained smile. Averman finally noticed Charlie's expression.

"Trying to turn something into stone?" he quipped. "'Cause if you want, all you have to do is look at them. Your face alone is enough to scare anyone." Connie chuckled half-heartedly.

"Shut up, Averman," Charlie snapped. Averman leaned back, eyes slightly wide behind his thick glasses. It was the Averman sign of a peace offering.

"What's your problem, Charlie, it was just a joke," Guy said. Averman looked at his friend in surprise. Guy was usually one of the most easy-going guys but he sounded down right pissed off. Charlie glowered at the other boy and Connie placed a hand on Guy to stop him from snapping again at Charlie.

"You don't have to get so offended," she finally said, to Charlie. There was a little, confused frown on her face as well.

"You guys don't even know half the things I'm going through," their captain growled, and shifted his gaze to the open door where they saw students filing back and forth in the hallways. A slightly worn-out looking Banks passed by, causing Charlie to stiffen so much that you could have ironed a shirt on his back. Averman turned away and tried to reach for his book bag but as he did so, it slid from the desk and corner of the heavy textbook pierced him on the bruised thigh.

"Shit!" he cried. He stood up, rubbing at his leg and several kids in the class looked up to see what the commotion was about.

"Jesus, Averman, it was just a book," Charlie grumbled. He was gripping the edges of his desk so hard that his knuckles were turning white. Even people who hardly knew Charlie were looking at him with confusion. What had set him off edge so bad? That was when Averman decided he just couldn't stand being in that classroom. It was too claustrophobic and he kind of felt dizzy from the pain that was throbbing in his thigh.

"You know what, I'll catch you guys at lunch," he said, and slung his backpack over his shoulder and managed to walk away without catching the concerned looks from Connie and Guy.

"Geez, Charlie, that was real nice," Guy said, sarcastically.

"Fuck off," Charlie snapped, angrily. And everyone else in the class tried to resume whatever they were doing before but they found that it was quite impossible with the tension that was hanging so heavy in the air.

Fulton closed his eyes as he took a hit from his joint. He couldn't deal with this tight-ass school without being under some kind of influence. He'd go to class when he was good and mellow. Fulton chuckled to himself about his cleverness of posting an "out of order" sign on the door of the second floor bathroom, the one that was at the end of the left wing, next to the music room. No one used this bathroom anyway; they wouldn't think twice of it. Fulton propped himself up on the sink and leaned against the mirrors.

He should have bailed the second he found out Portman did. This school wasn't for him. He wasn't even going to play hockey for his whole life. At least, that's what he thought. He never really thought of it, but then again, he never really thinks about anything. Fulton wondered how long this would go on before he got caught; how long it would be before someone realized there was a teenager trying to act badass who was lighting up in the bathrooms every day.

"Morons," he said, laughing to himself. As the last of the joint burned out, he felt in his pocket for more and produced nothing but two rolling papers. Grunting in frustration, he took one last, long hit from the failing joint. Then he heard the door open.

Fulton jumped scrambled to his feet until he realized that it wasn't a faculty member. It was just some snot-nosed kid who didn't look too surprised that Fulton was there.

"What you want?" he said. His voice sounded kind of gravelly so he cleared his throat as he settled back on top of the sink. He felt the ceramic shift slightly under his weight.

"I heard you…deal?" The kid's voice was high-pitched and Fulton chuckled to himself again. Kid probably hasn't even hit puberty.

"Look kid, I don't deal to rich, upper-class assholes okay?" The boy's face seemed to fall but he wasn't going to stick around, even if he was disappointed.

"Tell your friends that too," Fulton called, because undoubtedly the kid had a group of his friends waiting in nervous anticipation right outside.

"Assholes," Fulton muttered, as he tossed his extinguished joint into the garbage. He poked at the bags under his eyes, sprayed some cologne to disguise the smell of smoke, and walked out the bathroom feeling very mellow indeed.

A/N: Okay, so I like messed up Ducks, so sue me.