Title: Help Save the Youth of America from Exploding
Rating: T, just to be safe.
Disclaimer: I do not own Sky High or anything or anyone to do with Sky High. So don't sue me. I mean, you could, but all you'd get is a deflated rugby ball and a computer that freezes every five minutes. So it wouldn't really be worth it. I also don't own the title, which the title of a Less Than Jake song.

Volume 03

The first thing I noticed about the cafeteria was that it was nicely divided into sections. I didn't know why I had been expecting otherwise; superheroes or not, this was still a high school. There were all the usually groups: the "Goths", such as they called themselves even though it was highly unlikely they had been around for the sacking or Rome and/or were a type of architecture; the rebels, the group I had a hard time taking seriously after my mother had sat me down and had a serious discussion on politics and anarchy when we were leaning about John Locke last year; the artistic types, far too emotional over everything; the theater types, who were the artistic kids, but with accents; the airheads, pointing and giggling at pretty much everyone…

Yep, this was high school.

Suddenly, my arm was yanked halfway out of its socket. The cause of this force was a certain boy named Trash, and the motive was to drag me over to stare at the various foodstuffs offered by the fine establishment of Sky High School.

"Traaaash, I brought my lunch! I'm not going to buy anything!" I complained at him, attempting to yank my arm out of his grip. He tugged it a couple of times, and then pointed at a specific display. "Trash, I'm not – ooh." My eyes, if I'd been able to see them at this point, had all but doubled in size. "Appa joos." Or, if you spoke English and not three year old, apple juice. I had a long love affair with apple juice, dating back from early childhood.

I quickly bought five juice boxes – I hadn't planned on buying lunch, but I always carried my wallet with me – and concentrated on holding on to all of them as I waited for Trash and Rover to get their lunches. All of parents refused to make our lunches for us after elementary school, and I was the only one who got up early enough to make a few peanut butter and grape jelly sandwiches and throw them in a paper sack for lunch. I was also possibly the only one of us who knew how to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Mickey had a talent for cutting lines without seeming like she was cutting anyone, so she had her tray long before the guys got started. She stood next to me, bouncing from foot to foot and keeping a wary eye out for her brother. Vico stood with us, not wanting to venture into the dark depths known as "eating lunch by yourself, you complete and total loser". Every now and then, when she wasn't looking, he'd steal a fry off of Mickey's tray.

Finally, everyone had something to eat, and we headed off to find a table. And we found one – emphasis on the singular. It was next to a table full of… rather eclectic figures. I frowned and attempted to figure out what tall, dark, and scary was doing sitting with all-American boy and a hippie, and gave up.

Trash starting marching over to the table and I followed him. Vico grabbed him and hissed, "Don't you know who they are!" at us excitedly.

We shared a blank look with each other, and then with him. "…no?"

"That's the group that defeated Royal Pain last year! When they were freshmen, at the Homecoming dance?"

Now something clicked. "Oooh, yeah, that's right," I said, nodding my head. I had forgotten they went to Sky High. Which was kind of really stupid of me, I mean, they had defeated Royal Pain IN Sky High, so wouldn't they go there? I pondered briefly if they had a "Common Effing Sense 101" class I could take.

Trash had an entirely different approach. "So?"

"So?" repeated Vico, incredulous. "So, we can't sit next to them! They're real, bonafide heroes!"

Rover snorted at that, and broke in between Trash and Vico to stride forward and sit down at the table, next to the hippie. He smiled at them, and then began to dig into his food. Trash shrugged at Vico and sat down next to Rover.

Vico pretty much gave up at that point, and took the final seat on the bench the other two were sitting at. Michelle and I took our seats last. It was only after we sat that I realized I had inadvertently sat next to tall, dark and scary. Brill-iant.

I tried to slide a little further along the bench, but this attempt was ruined when a tall, friendly boy with brown hair sat down next to Mickey and immediately started eating a bag of chips, appearing oblivious to our stares.

Mickey banged her head on the table once, then faced us. "Everyone, this is my brother, Mark. Mark, this is everyone."

Ah, so this was the elusive older brother. I had not expected him to be quite so good-looking. And I did not just think what I think I thought, did I? I carefully monitored my facial muscles to make sure my face wasn't doing anything embarrassing. I had watched more than enough tween television shows to know what to watch for. I had possibly watched too much tween television programs, but that was neither here nor there.

There was a sudden crash next to me, and I turned to see Tall, Dark, and Scary slam his hands on the table, stand up, and glower at something behind him as the table started to melt a little. He then whirled around and starting tossing fireballs, against the cries of his friends and innocent bystanders.

I looked for what he was aiming at and saw a blur that slowed into a chubby boy who my now high-functioning mind had labeled as Speed, another of Royal Pain's lackeys. He was grinning at Tall, Dark, and Scary and had obviously sped by and screwed with him. I sucked absent-mindedly on a juice box as I watched the scene unfolding.

It was just getting to be good when all of a sudden, Speed slowed down to average human speed and Tall, Dark, and Scary's hands threw nothing. I immediately glowered at Trash, who had his eyes crossed in concentration. "Dang it Trash, I was watching that!" I whined, ignoring the fact that I sounded like a third grader whose mother had just switched off the television.

"Yeah, well, I was trying to eat before they interrupted," he managed to breathe out through his concentration.

I opened my mouth to respond, and ducked instead as a chunk of metal flew past where my head had been.

"Sorry!" Mark said with a sheepish grin. The metal flew on to encircle both Speed and Tall, Dark, and Scary and then dragged them back to where they'd been sitting. After that was done, Mark nodded at Trash. "You can let them go now."

In the far corner, Lash was laughing at Speed so hard he couldn't seem to stay seated. Tall, Dark, and Scary, for his part, glowered at all of us. Me, mostly, since I was closest.

I had had quite enough. "What're you staring at, Tall, Dark, and Scary? I didn't have nothin' to do with it, so just turn around!" I snapped at him before mentally bitch-slapping myself. Had I really just called him Tall, Dark, and Scary? Wow. I had some sort of death wish over here.

Everyone at my table and the table next to ours appeared to agree, as they all stared at me. Well, except Rover, but that was because Mickey had gotten a hold of his tennis ball and was bouncing it on the table in front of her, and his eyes were locked onto his precious tennis ball.

"What?" I demanded of everyone looking at me in a wounded tone. "I just want to drink my appa joos, okay?"

If anything, the stares increased. I pointedly turned my back to all of them and started on my third juice box and prayed for lunch to end before I did any more irreparable social damage.