A/N: The sections go out of chronological order in this section, but you should be able to see why when you read it. They should flow together if you don't let it confuse you.

Chapter Ten: Crime and Punishment

1:18 P.M.

Bender strolled into his sixth period study hall just as the warning bell sounded, signaling that the students had one minute to get to class. Bender took a seat on the last row and leaned his chair back against the wall. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his denim jacket and stared at the chalkboard across the room.

A few seconds later, Billy walked in and started down the aisle to where Bender was sitting. Bender wasn't sure how Billy was doing in his other classes, though he could probably guess, but he was pretty sure that he was making an A in Study Hall. As far as Bender knew, it was the only class that Billy attended with any regularity, probably because it was the only class he had where he was actually expected to sit there and do nothing.

Billy collapsed into the seat beside Bender and took off his ski cap, the static cling causing his short brown hair to stand at attention. He placed the cap on the desk in front of him and glanced over at his friend. "Hey."

Bender nodded in reply, and Billy sighed. "They kicked me off the ramp again."

Bender's eyebrow went up. "No kidding."

Billy sighed angrily. "It's a fucking ramp, for Christ's sake! Why the hell did they put it there in the first place if we're not supposed to use it?"

Bender shrugged, already bored with the conversation.

Billy shook his head. "At least he didn't give me a detention this time."

"Who didn't?"

"Vernon." Billy furrowed his brow in confusion. "It was weird. He gave me detention, but then he changed his mind or something. He said he was in a good mood."

"Maybe he got laid," Bender said lazily.

Billy wrinkled his nose in disgust. "That's…gross."

Bender rolled his eyes and leaned back so that his head was resting against the wall behind him. A few seconds later, the bell rang, and a couple of guys wearing letter jackets walked in, taking their seats at the desks directly in front of Bender and Billy. Billy didn't pay any attention to them, just slumped over the top of his desk and buried his face in his arms so that he could get a nap.

"Hey, man, have you done your History homework yet?"

The jock's friend, a short blonde guy, looked over at him. "I copied Harding's during lunch."

His friend raised an eyebrow. "Can I see it?"

The blonde rolled his eyes, but opened his backpack and dug around until he found what he was looking for. His friend accepted the paper and smiled. "Thanks, man."

"Whatever. I didn't do it."

The other guy shrugged and pulled out a clean sheet of paper. He had only been working for a couple of minutes when he looked over at the blonde jock and frowned. "Are you sure this is right?"

The blonde glanced over at him. "I don't know. Why?"

His friend pointed at the paper. "Napoleon," he said slowly, mispronouncing the name.

"So?"

"So, isn't that a kind of ice cream?"

The blonde just shrugged and went back to his own work. His friend looked at the paper again, deep in thought, then continued writing. Bender could do nothing but stare at the back of the guy's head and wonder how he'd survived so long with a brain that small.

Dumb jock.

1:31 P.M.

Andy stared at the calendar on the wall in Vernon's office, wondering how the Vice Principal got away with having a pictures of half-naked women displayed where students and parents could see them. Not that Andy minded; Miss March was pretty hot.

Andy looked away from the calendar and glanced out into the hallway. Vernon had been gone for about fifteen minutes, but Andy wasn't sure where he'd gone or when he'd be back. He'd left Andy in his office with instructions to stay put until he returned, but hadn't told him how long that would be. Andy figured he was probably in the principal's office getting Geller to sign off on his suspension or expulsion or whatever punishment they'd decided on.

Andy sighed and shoved his hands into the pockets of his letter jacket. He could only imagine the choice words his mother would have for him when she found out about what he'd done. His father, on the other hand, was a little harder to figure out. Andy couldn't decide whether his father was going to yell at his son for getting in trouble or tell his wife to stop overreacting. At least Andy was the clear-cut winner of the fight; he couldn't imagine what his father would say if the roles had been reversed and he was the one who'd been beaten up.

Andy looked down at his lap as a wave of shame rolled over him. He wasn't the one who'd been beaten up, but he'd forced someone else into that position. What were that kid's parents going to say when they found out what had happened to their son? Would they be angry at Andy for being a bully or disappointed that their son was too weak to fight back? If the other boy's father was anything like Andy's, he was pretty sure that he knew the answer.

Andy withdrew his right hand from his pocket and stared at it for a moment. His knuckles were bright pink and slightly swollen from repeated contact with the nerd's face and stomach, and he'd gotten a small cut on his right hand when it he'd connected with the boy's glasses. He was having a hard time remembering everything that had happened, but little pieces of the fight were very clear. He remembered the look of surprise and fear on the nerd's face when Andy pressed the tape against his skin. He remembered his teammates laughing and egging him on as he tackled the boy onto the hard floor, punching him in the face and kicking him in the stomach. He remembered that the boy tried at first to push him away and fight back, then gave up and curled into a fetal position to protect himself from Andy's blows. He remembered Coach Dickinson and Coach Kilgore running into the room and pulling Andy away, yelling at the others to step back and shut up. Mostly, Andy remembered how the room went deadly silent when Coach Kilgore removed the athletic tape from the smaller boy's butt cheeks. Blood and tape and skin and hair…

Suddenly, Andy felt himself getting sick. His stomach hitched violently as a wave of vomit hit the back of his throat, but he swallowed deeply, forcing it back down into his stomach. His hands curled themselves around the chair's thin wooden armrests, and he took a couple of deep breaths through his nose to calm himself down. After a few seconds, the nausea passed, and Andy slumped forward a bit, burying his head in his hands.

1:20 P.M.

Allison hated English. Not the language, just the subject. It had to be the most boring, pointless class on the planet. For one, her teachers never assigned real books that students actually wanted to read. Instead, they were forced to slog through long, brilliant period pieces like Great Expectations and The Scarlet Letter and Huckleberry Finn. Allison didn't see what was so brilliant about them anyway. They were old and boring, and she didn't understand how reading about two dumb kids floating down the Mississippi River on a raft was going to change her life for the better.

For this reason only, Allison was relieved when her teacher announced that they were going to the library to start researching for their term paper, which was due at the end of April. When the class arrived at the library, Allison grabbed the first couple of books the librarian suggested and made a beeline for science section, where she knew she wouldn't be bothered. She tucked herself into a corner between two tall bookcases and pulled out her drawing folder.

After a few minutes, Allison realized that she had to pee. She stood up from her spot on the floor and shoved her folder back into her knapsack, leaving the borrowed library books on the floor. She didn't bother finding her teacher to tell her where she was going, just snuck past the check-out desk and walked out into the hallway.

When she'd finished using the restroom, Allison stopped for a drink from the water fountain, then continued down the hall. She was about to open the door to the library when she noticed something moving in the vice principal's office.

It was one of the jocks. He was sitting in one of those uncomfortable wooden chairs, slumped over and staring at his lap. Allison took a step forward so that she could see deeper into the room, but there was no one else with him. Allison looked back at the boy, who was staring at his hand with a mixture of sadness and anger. Suddenly, the boy's face contorted gruesomely, and he doubled over in his seat, grabbing onto the arms of the chair. Allison sucked in a shallow breath, but didn't move or make a sound. After a moment, he took a couple of breaths and leaned forward, letting his head fall into his hands.

Allison didn't know why she was watching him, only that she couldn't tear her eyes away. She stood there in the hallway, rooted in place, until Vice Principal Vernon rushed past her, stopping in the doorway to his office. "Clark!"

The boy looked up, startled. "Yes, sir?"

"Detention. Tomorrow." The older man handed him a small piece of blue paper, but the jock just frowned.

"Detention?"

Vernon nodded curtly. "I'll call your parents and let them know about your new plans." He paused, then glared at the younger boy, who was frowning. "Is there a problem, Mr. Clark?"

The boy clenched his jaw. "No, sir."

"Good. I'll see you tomorrow at 7 A.M. Be on time or I'll put you to work cleaning chalkboards." Vernon stepped aside and motioned out into the hallway, indicating that the boy could leave.

Allison looked away and pulled open the door to the library, slipping inside before either of them noticed she was there.

2:04 P.M.

Claire pulled into the student parking lot exactly two minutes before the end of sixth period. She parked the car in its original space and looked around for her things. Her purse was easy to find, but her books weren't there. After a moment, she realized that she'd left them in the classroom during the fire drill, thinking that she would get them when she returned. "Shit," she muttered. Her Calculus homework, which was due next period, was inside of her textbook. She wondered if there was time to go back and get it before seventh period started.

Claire checked her lipstick in the rearview mirror and got out of the car. After locking the door behind her, she glanced through the car window for a glimpse of her shopping bags, which were sitting in the backseat. Heather would be mad when she realized that Claire had taken her car off campus for a trip to the mall, but it was better to have her best friend mad at her than to get a detention. Claire sighed and started walking towards the building.

She was caught before she could even make it out of the parking lot.

Disclaimer: Allison's opinions about American literature do not necessarily reflect those of the author. Especially the stuff about Mark Twain, 'cause he's bloody brilliant. ;)

A/N: I apologize that I have done an abominable job of responding to the reviews from the last chapter (of all of my fics, but this one specifically), but I've finished the school semester, so I'll have time to respond to them now. Thanks so much for the feedback. If you have anything to say, good or bad, please review. I love hearing from you all. Thanks!