"And, so General Rodcock slammed his dirty-" "ENOUGH, James. . .", Ms. Hilsley confined, rubbing her temples and shooing James elsewhere, preferably his desk unless that ungodly talk and counterfeit act caused him to fluctuate and receive his dirty and earthly. . .

James chortled his nose and tittered everyone around, undulating and sauntering his hips to and from his classmates, boys chuckling and girls covering their mouth and nose, holding in the giggles and fits. Ms. Hilsley hushed the class and scanned through the entitlement of names, marked ones skipping, and unmarked deciding on which poor soul to call upon next. "Hmm. . . How about you, Tweek?"

Few heads silently eyed, and spun, and landed on the, younger-than-the-majority, boy. Tweek cocked his head to peak at her, eyes wilted, still, despite being the third-fourth of the day. He remembered that sleepless and dazing night, not even remembering what the hell he was supposed to write about. "U- Uh, Ma'am?"

A few kids sneered.

"Your essay? Page long fiction reflecting on earlier life?" He stared at her lifelessly and bug eyed, realizing what she said but just so fucking tired.

BAM.

"C'mon dude, we don't got all day!", an unfamiliar hand slammed on his desk. The young boy jumped and the whole block just was perked with laughter. "Yes, yes."

He fudged through rumpled and wrinkled papers and stumbled to find what exactly he was dulling for. Eventually it hit him. The paper. First dresser by the door. He left it there saying he'd put it in his book bag right after breakfast. God damn it.

Tweek gaped at his surroundings. His mouth was simply left dry and he cringed a fake smile. "Well, the title of my essay is. . .", he coughed. "One Night"

The teacher bobbed her head in approval. The whole class fronted him.

"Okay, um. . . Sorry if it sounds more like a sonnet or poem or. . . "

The class just stared.

"Okay," he muttered to himself. "One- One night, there was a storm. One night, it caused caused havoc on a town. One night, a town was unsteady. One . . . Night, a girl sat in her room, afraid. One day, the storm got to her. One day, the girl cowered in a corner, afraid of her shadow."

He looked around and saw many engaged already, and some almost looked. . . nauseous. Tweek's throat bubbled with anticipation.

"One night, her family wasn't there. One day, her family was taken by the storm. One day, the girl didn't know what to do. One night, it was all the same. One night, everything was normal. One night, she never even knew her family. One night, she wasn't her. One night, the girl wasn't even alive. One night, the storm wasn't there."

"One night, she was the storm."

Many looked confused, pickled few looked like they were about to cry? And the rest were just awed in the 'fun little story'. The class clapped, one or two hollered, the back kids scorned, and the teacher majestically beamed.

Tweek leaned back in his chair, satisfied with himself and the random bull that shot out, and before he was familiar, the bell sounded, and off to the final block of the day. Band.

At least in band you're not judged. Well, not as often.

Tweek fluttered his bag over his back and began speeding through the hall, already throwing his Converses into his extra bag and hopping leg to leg to tie up his Reebok's. "YoooOOOooo, Tweekers!"

Token swung his arm around the 'squeaky' boys neck and almost wrecked both of them onto the floor. He was dressed in school colors, glitter gold and royal blue, who who!, as the team and entire student body put it. Crinkled Adidas sweats, pre-owned, yet still fly Lettermans, the high top Nike's, silver-y Beats, and that 80's retro hairdo to pull it all off. He looked like an ass, but was the sweetest thing since chocolate pudding. (No pun intended)

"Yo, Token. Ready for band, dude? I hear y'all gotta learn a new part of the set today. That must suck. Balls." Token took his arm off him and castled his arm. "Man, shut the fuck up-" He stilled at the close-by teacher and laughed to himself. Almost caught again.

"You lucky, you know? We weren't even aware of what the fuck percussion was until like. . . a year ago or some shit. Man, and you ain't the actual drum line. You don't do shi-" And with one shot stares, Token shut up faintly. "We've been over this before, Token. Me and you, we're equal in all aspects. Don't fucking pity me just because I don't march. Like I don't pity you because your instrument sounds like ass music and you could never hold 10 pounds worth of sticks in both hands desperately and still try and look good."

"You got me.", the darker skin one beamed, rubbing the back of his neck. Presently, more and more of his buds kept rolling in and going straight with everything. Today was going to be a rough set.

". . . That concludes the afternoon announcements. The class of 2015 may be officially released; please hold all others until the bell." The intercom shut off, and all band students went wild. Talking wise, of course. Friends chatted, the teacher joked. Everything was normal. And finally, the bell set off, a quick bye to friends, phone pulled, and Tweek was off!

He left from the back, where the band hall was. Right be the gym, and lead to the bus stop, while other classes around had to wander halls and squirm through to get the hell back home. If they even made it.

Everything was sweaty. Out in the sun for longed and damned hours, pushing shit equipment from one field to another. And then no one fucking helping. Ever. Except a few band couple's but that was typically it.

And those few minutes of sanctity of air condition. Ah. It relieved him, yes, but it wasn't enough at the moment. And you know, what better to top off this hell than with a bus. With no working A.C. Just great. And what about when he got home? Yah everything was fine but he's still be hot and his hair was a worse mess and he's have to help clean and homework and eat and-

"Mr. Tweak!" His thoughts were caved in and he was now faced with his English teacher. Y- Yes, Ms. Hilsley?" She looked at him with sincere eyes and nudged his shoulder. "That was some good on-the-spot thinking you pulled today. Just be glad I didn't ask for a hard copy." He looked up at her with wide eyes and slowly shook his head. "Relax. You weren't the first one today to just come up with something random. At least yours was good. I was quite impressed. And glad you didn't make a scene like Mr. James and Gerald."

Tweek laughed and sauntered towards his bus number with the teacher. "I'm glad you liked it. It felt weird saying it and rushed but I didn't realize I left my real paper at home this morning." Hilsley looked at him. "Oh yah? And what was the title of that one?" The blond chuckled. "One Storm. Kinda where I got the idea." The teacher laughed and checked her watch. "Well, you best be getting on the bus before you miss. I don't wanna be responsible for another piss- Angry parent."

Tweekers grimaced at her slip up and began to roam off. "Thank you again, Ms. H." She waved back and then a sliver of interest caught her face. "Oh, and um. . . That boy over there has been staring at you for a while. Over there", She pointed. "Thought you should know."

She walked off with a little sway as the boy looked back to where she focused. He bobbed his head around until he caught dark eyes right on his soul. He stayed glued to them until he got on the bus, head fuzzed.

Who. . . Who was that?