(A/N: this is really short, and took a long time to upload, but forgive me. I am on break and am finally relaxing and it has done so much for me. I feel so much better now. Things will start picking up soon. I'll start throwing In the good stuff too. But updates may be every few weeks soon, because I have exams and personal stuff.)

FANG POV

On Monday, the four of us, Max, Iggy, Nudge, who sounded like a pubescent boy from her laryngitis, and I walked into school, heading straight for the cafeteria to get our new schedules. It was the first day of the new semester, even though last semester's exams are next week.

We went into the caf, which were lines with tables with cutout letters pasted on them. We were supposed to go to the table with the letter of our last name, so that they could give us our schedules.

Iggy, Nudge and I joined the 'M-O' line, while Max joined the 'Q, R' line.

Five minutes later, we regrouped and look over our schedules.

"Dang, man," Iggy groaned. "We don't have the same lunch. But I share wit Nudge and you share with Max."

"I share art with you, Iggy and Fang, and Photography with you Fang. First two periods. Then I have lunch and two spares." Max shared.

I wasn't paying attention, just staring down at my schedule in horror. "Shit."

"What's up?" Iggy asked.

I showed him my schedule.

"That does suck." Iggy empathized.

"What's wrong?" Max asked.

"I have ." I moaned, an unusual occurrence.

"What's so bad about that?" Max asked.

"Mrs. Dwyer is this teacher who obviously has the hots for Fang." Iggy explained for me. "And it's actually really creepy."

Nudge nods in agreement.

Iggy continues. "And she makes him call her Brigid and always leans really far over his desk and splays her boobs everywhere around him and asks him to stay after classes. It's crazy. Totally predator."

Max looked angry for a moment, like jealously, but it passes so quickly, I doubted that it even happened. "That's really creepy." Max finally agreed.

"Hey, Max," Nudge asked. "Why do you only have two classes and they're both art?"

Max looked uncomfortable for a second. "I, uhhh... I got a lot of credits done?" She said, seemingly more asking, and obviously lying. But since I was much more focused on the terrible thought that I had class with my creeper teacher, I let it slide.

The bell rang behind us, and Max, Iggy and I made our way to art.

"So, you really like art, then?" Max asked.

I nodded. "I like it I guess. It's fun."

"That's all?" Max asked.

"What else could there be?" I asked, confused to what she meant.

"It's only fun to you? For a lot of people that really appreciate art, it's more than that. Not necessarily some deep, depressing reason, but usually something more than that. Passion." Max explained. "You love doing art. Like it's an expression, not just a distraction, unless that's what you need."

"Like me and firearms and the like?" Iggy asked. "Gazzy and I love doing that stuff. It really got us close as brothers. Like were not at each others throats like we were when I was ten and he was four."

"Iggy got it." Max said. "Don't you?"

"Since when did this turn into a mush fest?" I asked, it coming out a little ruder than expected.

"Don't be a jerk." Max snapped as we walked into the familiar classroom.

"Hey Max," Iggy asked as we sat down at our usually table and put our stuff down, waiting for the teacher, Miss Pinsky. "Why do you have so many spares, and all your classes are electives?"

"Uh... I guess I'm lucky?" Max blushed, shrugging.

This obviously wasn't the truth, and not being in sweet, sensitive guy mode, and now paying attention, I wad definitely pressing the matter.

"Nah... That couldn't happen." I said, purposely torturing her.

"No... You're right. I took night school in England." Max said.

"So you graduated early then?" Iggy asked.

"No... No. I didn't."

"Then why are all your classes electives?"

"I didn't graduate already!" Max shouted defensively. Several of the students turned to look at her and she blushed.

"Don't lie." I said, now sort of annoyed.

Max looked kind of defeated and opened her mouth to say some thing when the teacher came in and clapped her hands loudly.

"Hello, class. I'm Miss Pinsky. I'm the new teacher here. Today is my first day." She was young, and casual looking, with light brown hair in a messy bun and jeans and a tee shirt. "I know some of you have already taken art this year, and everything is going to work pretty much the same as last semester, just with new projects. Those of you who have already taken this class last semester can have a free period. For those of you who haven't, please come over to this table and..."

I tuned her out and whipped out my sketchbook from last semester. While I was drawing, I asked, "So, when did you graduate?"

Max heaved a heavy sigh. "Last year."

Iggy had plugged in his music and obviously couldn't hear us, judging by the way he bobbed his head.

"So why are you on a foreign exchange, why are you at school, why didn't you tell us?"

Max looked thoughtful for a moment. "I wanted to go on one, before... Uh, I wanted to go and experience a normal place and such..." She mumbled. "And, second, I'm on a victory lap. I used to be homeschooled sometimes right, so I ended up ahead. I have to at least go to school here for a bit, but I can leave anytime, I guess. Especially when I turn eighteen in a couple weeks. And I didn't tell you because I don't know you all super well yet, because it hasn't been that long and I worried you were going to make a big deal."

"Well, I didn't make one." I pointed out.

Max smiled. "Thanks."

I continued drawing, just doodles. Pencil scratching filled our little island of a table along with occasional strains of Iggy's *terrible* music. I began to draw eyes all over my page. All eyes from good eyes that took a minute or two to cartoon eyes that took seconds. I made the eyes big and small, too, until the entire page was full. It took almost the full hour and it flew by, but I didn't mind. I was kind of proud of the eyes. Every spot on the page was filled.

As I packed up my books and Max and I prepared to leave for photography, two rooms down, Max asked me what I drew. I showed her.

"Wow. That's really, really good. And cool too." Max remarked.

"Thanks." I said. "What did you draw?"

Ma clutched her sketchbook To her chest before giving it to me. "I'm really sorry. It's bad."

I opened it up to the first page in the new sketchbook. it was a picture of me, hunched over my desk drawing intently.

"I'm sorry it's bad," Max repeated. "And sorry if you didn't want me drawing you. I just wanted work on portraits and you were really still."

I looked at it again. It was really good, the big one. There were actually a couple of sketches of me around it too. "No," I said. "It's really good."

"Thanks." Max smiled and we walked out of the hallway and waited by the door of the photography room.

Students gathered around us, and we each began talking to them until the teacher let us in.

Max and I sat down again at the table. A moment later someone sat down beside Max.

"Hey, Max.". The guy said, ignoring me.

Max didn't greet the person, and I sensed a glare, and looked up.

It was Dylan. I decided to join in on the glare festival.

"Why are you here?" I snapped.

"There were no extra seats." Dylan said cooly, leaning back in his chair.

I looked around. There were plenty of empty seats. At least six.

"There are a bunch of extra chairs." Max deadpanned.

"Do you have a problem with me sitting here?" Dylan asked.

"I guess there's no reason..." Max said at the same time I replied. "Yes."

Max and I just rolled our eyes and proceeded to ignore him for the rest of class.

"Okay," the teacher told us a few minutes later. "I'm Mr. Williams. I am obviously the photography teacher for you guys. Today will be learning the course outlines and be either figuring out the class cameras or you will be reading a packet on the basics of photography, which will be done for homework."

The Mrs. Williams talked about the course outline while I spaced out, staring in Max's general direction. She was seeming to space out too, her eyes glazing over and gazing intently at one of the fluorescent lights that was flickering on and off. I began to tap my fingers on my desk and noticed that most of the class was also dozing off their lack of sleep whilst the teacher talked. Dylan was looking at Max, but rather than glaring at him, I simply averted my eyes. I was actually very tired and would prefer not to deplete my energy looking at the likes of him.

MAX POV

A loud clapped surprised me and I looked around dazed. What-? I rubbed my wesry eyes and looked around for the source and my eyes quickly landed on Fang smirking at me. Crap! Had I fallen asleep?

I looked around at the other tables. The snorts of laughter from them told me that I had indeed fallen asleep. Blushing furiously like a fool, I sat up straighter to check if the teacher had noticed. She didn't seem to, as she was droning on about the lesson plan. I pretended to listen and tried not fall into the arms of Morpheus again.

"Hey, Max." Dylan whispered. I looked over at him.

"What?" I asked drowsily, opening my bag to take out my camera.

"Want to go out for lunch with me after this? You have lunch next, right?" He whispered, inaudibly to anyone not near him.

"No." I replied flatly.

"Great. Well go to The Pizza Place. I'll buy." Dylan told me cheekily.

"That doesn't work on me, dipwad. I'm not the kind of girl who bends to your will or will do anything you say or somehow think I have to go now that you said that." I snapped, getting annoyed at his persisting, and well, just him. "I have plans."

"What? Hanging out with Fang?" Dylan's voice sounded angry, especially when mentioning Fang.

"Maybe. Mostly just avoiding you, though."

"Fine!" Dylan snapped. The teacher looked over at him, and Dylan slouched down in his seat until the teacher began to speak again. Of course, then he came back. "I'll just ask out one of the million of girls who would love go out with me!" He replied indignantly.

I knew he was just trying to make me jealous. "And I'm not one of them."

Finally, the teacher finished talking, and I got out my camera. It was a new SLR, one of the best on the markets with a few good lenses.

"Take lots of pictures for me." My father had told me, trying to fill the fatherly role he didn't know how to.

I knew he was trying to be nice, which he was, and fatherly, but I just didn't feel happy about getting the camera, like my friend Cherry, from England, would have been. She would have been exuberant. I knew this camera and it's equipment would have been incredibly expensive -definitely over two grand, which was like a Big Mac to my dad, and it was with good intentions, but I just couldn't feel it. My dad loved me, sure, but he just didn't know how to be a father. Too occupied in his work to not be distant, and probably still not being over the death of my birth mother (he was really in love with her) left him without the capacity to be a Dad. Not just one gamete contributing to my genetic make up, but to be a real father, someone I could call Daddy.

Which is why the robotic motion hurt.