Chapter 3 – Everyone gets a C

Another day rolls around, and I can honestly say I'm starting to get the hang of this stuff. It doesn't hurt that because of this shithole establishment, this is only a three day week for me. Today's Friday...the weekend is hours away, and that means nonstop bedroom time with the misses.

I kind of missed teaching for that reason. Sure, over the summer, we fucked basically every single day, often multiple times. But, during school, five days are dedicated to teaching brats, leaving no time for full day sex marathons. And being deprived for that long (hey, it's long for me), just makes it that much hotter. If there's a sex Olympics, we'd totally take gold.

Heh, sex Olympics. THERE SHOULD BE SEX OLYMPICS. I'd win "most valuable" and "most improved", every single fucking year. No wonder they recruited me for sex-ed. They realize they're employing a low-profile celebrity.

Speaking of sex, Porshea is distracting me from finishing up these papers.

"Kenny," she whines, leaning over my desk and squeezing her very exposed chest together. Only a few more minutes until the first period bell rings, so I can get a good...five minutes with her in.

I lean forwards in my chair, giving her a brief kiss while copping a feel at the same time. She runs her hands down my chest slowly. I swear to God I'm the luckiest guy on the face of the Earth. And as much as I want to have her there and then, I know kids will be trickling in any moment, and I REALLY need to finish marking these papers.

"Swee-TEE!" I squeal as her hand lowers and then grabs hold. She leans in to meet me, and begins biting my ear. DAMN, woman! She's just as ready to go as I am.

A small little voice clears its throat, and I turn my head to face the child standing in the doorway, mesmerized (and most likely excited) at the sight before him.

As much as I hate to interrupt your little grope-fest," Majesty begins, smirking all the while, "I came to this classroom to learn god-knows-what, not to be traumatized."

I sighed disappointedly as Porshea released her hold on me. "I'll see you later baby," she informs me while winking seductively. I just about pitch a tent right there. As she leaves, I notice Majesty's eyes follow her ass out the door.

"You like that, do ya?" I ask him, obviously interrupting his adolescent thoughts. He turns to me and narrows his eyes, to which I laugh. "Keep up your asshole attitude, and girls like THAT will never go near you."

"Can it, McCormick, I've gotta talk to you," he tells me.

I raise my eyebrow at him. "If you're just here to complain about my methods, you can just walk your tiny person back out the door."

Majesty raises his arms up in defense. "No, I think I've already made it pretty clear what I think about your methods. This is about something else."

Okay, now I'm intrigued. "So you gonna tell me or what?"

Majesty hesitates. "Have you ever…" he starts.

"Come on, kid. Spit it out." I can see him twitching in nervousness. I've gotta give the little brat credit. Coming to ME before class. I thought he hated me.

Majesty sighs, acting as if he's swallowing his last pit of pride. "Have you ever liked a girl and not known whether she likes you back?"

I snort. No. "Oh sure," I fake. "Lots of times." Whoa, is Majesty coming to ME for girl advice? I TOTALLY own this school.

No, wait. I more than own this school. This school is my bitch. And I am its pimp.

"So what did you do to find out?" Majesty's words bring me out of my very vivid mental image of a school building dressed in a leather thong, leopard bra, and walking on two very sexy woman legs with fishnets and stilettos.

"Huh? Find what out?"

"TOFINDOUTWHETHERSHELIKESYOU!" he huffs impatiently.

"Oh..."

He takes another step up to my desk. "Did you kiss her?"

Ha, okay. I could either be really really nice, or be really really mean. Do I like this kid enough to give him real advice? But, shit, if I give him bad advice, he could be doomed to walk this earth alone forever. Am I really that cruel?

I decide to be nice to Majesty, for once. Who knows? Maybe he could meet the woman -ahem- girl, of his dreams and she could totally change him. I doubt it though.

"Um, well before you kiss her, you should have some sort of hint if she likes you or not," I begin. "How often do you talk to said person? Do you know them well?"

Majesty shifts his foot uneasily. "Not exactly… once she asked me if it was supposed to rain."

Haha. Aw. He doesn't stand a chance. "Do you know anything ABOUT her?" I continue.

"I know she's got an ass like your wife's..." I see him stop breathing and his eyes go wide as he awaits punishment from me. But hey, what're ya gonna do? Porshea's ass IS breathtaking.

"Nice," I comment instead. I shake my head. "No, you can't...you can't base your feelings off of how she makes you feel... there…

Majesty looks momentarily confused. "There?" he begins, but then a light flickers in his eyes. "Oh! THERE, right. Well, she makes me feel in other places too. Like ... she wrote a speech about the dangers of smoking once, and she told it to the class. And she looked at me once, and I think she smiled."

Oh dear. The smartass has it bad. "Did you EVER start a conversation with her?" I try to probe.

"I told her that day that it WAS actually supposed to rain." He pauses. "And then I ran away." I shake my head again.

"Melvin, Melvin, Melvin...uh...can I call you Mel? Mel! You've gotta GET YOURSELF OUT THERE! Let her know you EXIST!"

"She knows I exist," he stubbornly defends.

"No. She knows you're a guy with possible weather updates."

"That still counts as existing."

"NOT as a possible love interest," I spell out for him. "The first step is talking to her. Go up and start a conversation. Ask her about herself, what she likes, and at least PRETEND to be interested. For God's sakes, how else is she supposed to know that you like her?"

Melvin pauses. "Well what if she doesn't like me back?"

There's other girls out there that will," I assure him. I'm glad we're having this heart-to-heart. Maybe he won't be such a prick in the classroom.

Majesty pouts. "How the hell is THAT supposed to help me? I don't want other girls."

I look at him sideways. "Well, that may or may not happen. You can't always get what you want." Why am I reminded of King and Stan there? "Sing it with me."

Majesty looks at me like I'm ten thousand years old and asked him to recite the Constitution of the USA, word for word. Come on, dude, I'm not THAT old. I look at him incredulously. "Rolling Stones? Mick Jagger? Keith Richards? Ring any bells?"

"Like I'm supposed to remember your old boyfriends, McCormick," he huffs.

I roll my eyes. This kid is missing out on life. "Anyways," I say, trying to get back to the subject at hand, "what I'm saying is if this girl isn't interested, then find someone else who is. And just as a hint, girls generally don't like guys that are total pricks. Unless they're prostitutes. Prostitutes like eighty year old hermaphrodites on viagra though, so they don't count."

Majesty sticks his tongue out in disgust. "I ain't no hermafrite!" Ah, he's resumed his holier-than-thou attitude, I can see it in the gleam of his eyes.

The bell rings. "I don't need this, I can have ANY girl I want," he boasts, looking completely unsure under his ego.

Fine. I tried to be nice.

"All right then, good luck with life being alone," I say snidely, ruffling through the small stack of paper I've actually finished grading, retrieving his. "Oh, and here's your paper back."

Majesty grabs it, eyes widening in shock. "What the hell? Just a C?"

"Nonono, your thumb's in the way," I point out. He moves it.

"A C minus? Is this some sort of sick joke?"

"I don't know, YOU wrote it," I joke, but he sees no humor in my extremely comical jab.

"I hate you," he mutters as he spins around and looks for his seat next to tubby. Aw. The love my students spread. Such a warm feeling.

The students file in, and I have yet to finish grading the reports. Aw, shit. As everyone takes their seats, I clear my throat, directing attention to myself.

"All right, you guys have fifteen minutes to finish preparing your skits. And they damn well better be awesome, because you got way more time than what I was going to give you."

I hear whines and whimpers, but I ignore it. If I didn't know better, I'd think these students actually wanted QUALITY teaching time. Ha! Pre-teenage mutant crazy kids.

I try to do that keep-one-eye-on-the-classroom bit, but it's kind of hard when one of your eyes has shitty vision due to an unfortunate smelting accident. I glance up in between papers to make sure they are in check.

I glance up to see Stan and Kyle appearing to be practicing their lines to each other. Shit. I mean Stan and King. Damn kids are throwing me off.

I look back down at the papers. Written by some person named Charlie. This kid writes some pretty fucked up stuff.

'Why must one love, if it brings only pain? Why must we search for a lifetime for other beings referred to as friends, when all creation ends in a dark unending pit of doom?' I read aloud in my head. Jesus.

I drop my red pen and fish out a bright pink one. Then, with careful precision, I draw little flowers all over the top right corner and color them in. I scratch the words "Very Inspiring" on top of those sickening flowers, and the letter "C". C is for Completely Fucked. Next paper, please.

I rifle through, finding Trevor's. Well, it technically says Simon on the front, but I scratch it out with said pink pen and write in caps lock TREVOR. Apparently his last name is Swallows. Heh, heh.

I start to read. "My best friend is my pet gerbil named Larry. We do all sorts of things together, but mostly he just plays in his ball and I feed him. I take very good care of Larry." Oh man, is this kid for real? We've gotta get him hooked up with some decent buddies!

I read on. "Larry and I got in a fight the other day. He was playing on his wheel after I told him it was time to go to bed. I don't think he likes me very much. Guess he's not much of a friend after all."

Shit, if my empathy tear ducts weren't extinct, I think I might cry for Trevor.

I can't read anymore, it's too depressing. I etch out a B for 'I really want a Bologna sandwich right now but I don't get my paycheck for another week so I can't Buy it quite yet', and pass it on. I make a mental note to find Trevor some friends in the near future. I search through my pile and come back to King's.

I've read it three times and still can't beleive a sixth grader wrote it. His grammar is perfect, and he uses words that even I don't know. Plus he made a bibliography at the end. This kid is something else.

Well, I already know I HAVE to give him an A. That'd be sacrilegious not to.

I move onto Stan's gay little report. This kid is a closet flamer, I believe this with all my heart. He's even drawn his little drawing in RAINBOW colors!

Somewhere inside, there's a gay boy yearning to break free. I'm going to help him.

'Lucas is my best friend, and I love him. But not like that. Just like friends. Only better, because we're best friends.' Good god this kid rambles. I'm going to change the way you think kid. I award him a BB. One B is for the eventual Boner he's going to have for his friend in the future. The other is still for that Bologna sandwich I really, really want. I wonder if I could smuggle a few dollars out of one of those mall fountains.

After a few more papers, I look up the clock. It's been fifteen minutes. The kids are staring at me without blinking. I think I need to wrap this up. Everyone gets a "C." Especially this last paper from Tubby. Listen:

"My best friend in the whole world is Mr. Kenneth McCormick. I knew from the first time I met him that he'd be an excellent guy for teaching me stuff. He's my favorite teacher and he deserves a big pie. Just like his prize student."

I make a mental note to ask Porshea to bake King a pie. "Alright class, time's up. Who wants to go first?"

I see Majesty give Trevor a death glare as he eagerly shoots his hand in the air. Aw, poor kid is happy to have a group to work with. "Alright, Trevor, you guys are up!"

Trevor prances to the front of the classroom, while Majesty makes an unnecessary amount of grunts and complaints as he shuffles to the front. I almost forgot he was here, that little pain in the ass. Tubby is stuck in his chair. I hear him ask "a little help?" as Majesty comes back to rescue him. They both walk up together, reluctantly.

All three of them line up like soldiers in front of the class. They count to three together on their fingers before proceeding with their story.

"This class is sooo lame," Majesty begins.

"Not as lame as your mom!" Tubby counterattacks.

"Dude, don't even try. Everyone knows you have the hots for dudes."

"I just love my best friend here. If that makes me hot for him, then I guess I am," Tubby says, roping an arm around a curious Trevor.

"Well, gee, Sam, I don't like you that way," Trevor retorts. This earns a slap on the arm from Majesty.

"Dumbass! LIKE WE REHEARSED!"

"Oh." Trevor balls his fists. "I mean, I'm very excited to have all the hot sweaty man sex with you, Sammy." His voice is mechanic, and while it's hard for me not to laugh, I somehow manage as I mark a big fat F in the grade book for Majesty and his companion. Trevor, I give an A. He doesn't know no better.

"Alright, who's next then?" I scan around and choose Curls, who once again comes up with emo girl. I wonder if they really are close friends, because it just seems so odd. Curls with her frills and pink, emo girl with her well, her emo-ness.

Curls takes a breath. "Charlie, I have something to say to you, and it is very hard for me to say this."

Emo's face never changes expression. "What?"

"I think I'm falling for your womanhood," Curl girl cries.

"Really. That's fantastic. I've been falling for you too. I don't know what is happening to me. It is out of my control. Oh help me, please help me-"

"CUT!" I scream. "Okay...even though it's hard for me to stop all of this emotion-filled confession, I've heard enough." I mark down a C, cause that emo chick rubs me the wrong way.

"NEXT!"

I reluctantly select hick boy from the first day of classes, and he comes up with nerdy boy. Huh. Go figure.

Billy Bob or whatever starts off in his southern accent. "Well gee whiz Scott, I shore do lyke ewe a whole lot!"

Nerdy boy replies. "Yes, I do believe that the probability of a romantic relationship involving the like has about a fifty percent chance of survival and a fifty percent chance of failure, so why take unprecedented risks and let's just remain companions, and nothing more."

"Shyoot, Scott, don't be shy. We can be more if ya just let meh in!" Redneck squeezes up next to the nerd nice and tight, and I can tell that Scott is very uncomfortable with the situation. Perhaps I discovered another Style? Ew. I shudder to picture THAT couple. Ew.

"NEXT!" I bellow.

I see Stan's hand, eagerly in the air as always. Why does he even bother putting it down? "Alright, how about Stan and Ky-ing!" I quickly cover up, hoping no one notices. King is looking right at me, I'll bet he's glaring. "Stan and King, you go next." The boys make their way to the front of the room, and count to three on their fingers much like how Majesty's group did.

"Hey Stan, what's up?" King voices to Stan nonchalantly.

"Um…er… nothing much" Stan mumbles into the ground. Ahaha, they reversed roles!

"Well, what are you doing tonight?" King inquires nonetheless. He seems much more comfortable now, pretending to be the oblivious one.

"Well...that depends on you, Lu."

I see King's shoulders drop. Uh oh. Stan's gotten to him again. I hope he can put up the front for the skit's sake. "I think I'm just gonna stay home tonight. You know, actually be a good boy for once."

Stan nods, and I'm not sure, but I THINK I just saw his cheeks darken.

King pretends to think of a new idea. "Hey, why don't you come over too? And then we can watch TV and do stuff."

Stan twiddles his fingers. "Um, I dunno… I've got a lot of… of… homework, yeah," he trails off lamely.

King pretends to be annoyed and gives his best friend a light shove. "Come on dude, you've been blowing me off for weeks. What's up?"

Stan purses his lips and frowns. "Nothing," he claims, almost defensively.

"Whatever, Stan. I'm your best friend. You can tell me ANYTHING."

"Not this," I hear Stan whisper. The look on King's face makes me wonder if that was part of their rehearsed skit or not. Could it be? COULD IT BE! Ha, I sound like an excited school girl.

"Why not dude? Is this about a girl or something?" King says softly, after momentarily seeming to forget his lines.

Stan shakes his head. "No."

"Then what the hell is it? I deserve to know Stan!" King almost seems to be demanding the last part to Stan. Like King is asking if Stan likes him right here, in front of the class.

Stan assumes an aggressive stance, and he appears taller than before. "I SAID IT'S NOTHING!" After allowing his tiny voice to echo throughout the room, he drops from his toes, and clears his throat. "Okay, let's go hang out at your house."

King is still shocked, as am I, from the initial impact of such a strong voice from such a small kid. "You...sure?" he clarifies.

Stan nods and smiles, returning to his normal self. "I'd love to spend time with you, Lu."

"Really?" King asks softly. I can't tell if this is even on their script anymore.

"Really," Stan replies, and he gives King a big hug in front of the whole class, which a blushing King returns after a moment. The second Stan breaks away, he turns to me.

"How was that?" He asks me excitedly, practically hopping on the spot. I feel my own face fall along with King's.

"That was...good, Stan-" I begin, but am interrupting by an annoying high-pitched cackle that sounds more like a hyena than a child. I turn to the disturbance, and sure enough, there's Majesty falling over the desk, pounding his fist down and shaking violently. He lifts his head so I can see the tears streaming down from his face. He chokes on them, and it makes me return his laughter.

"That was TOO great, Stan," he cries.

Stan frowns, uncertain if this is a compliment or insult. "Uh thank you?" He responds with a mildly confused expression.

Majesty wipes the tears from his eyes. "Seriously. The way you screw with his head, it's awesome. You are my IDOL!" He declares, pointing at Stan and dissolving into another fit of laughter.

Stan puzzles over this. "Screw with his head? We're just pretending."

"Hahaha. Sure you are. Just like he PRETENDS to like gir-"

"OKAY, MAJESTY!" I bellow, loud enough to catch the attention of the entire school, if not planet. "That's it! I've had ENOUGH of your bullshit!" I march--and I mean MARCH--to my desk, pulling out a detention slip and an office referral. "You have disturbed my class too many times. Get your ass to the principals' office."

Majesty's tears dry up in less than a second. "I'm just playin, McCormick!"

"NOW!" I scream.

"Fine!" Majesty screams back, storming out of the classroom. Stan huffs disapprovingly at Majesty's behavior. It would have been comical if it hadn't been for the fact that my attention is fixed on the boy standing next to him. King seems frozen to the spot, fists clenched, and mouth in a tight line. I see him twitch slightly. I hope he's okay.

"King?" Stan turns to his best friend, worried. "Don't worry about him. He's just being mean."

He puts a caring hand on King's shoulder, and stands there, awaiting a response. "Lu..." he begins.

"FUCK YOU!" King yells unexpectedly, yanking his body back into his own possession. He drops his head so that his hair shields his eyes, and I know he is ready to cry. I know he is even more ready to, now that he realizes he just told his best friend that.

Stan looks like he just got slapped across the face. He blinks once, twice, and then something clicks, and his eyes go deadly. It's really scary, coming from a normally happy person like him.

"What."

King looks horrified at what he just said. He claps his hand over his mouth, and tries to keep his wavering voice steady. "Dude…Stan, I-"

Little Stanley gives him no chance to explain. He instead walks steadily back to his seat and sits down. But, as he does so, he pushes the desk that King was at a few feet further away from his own space. He folds his arms across his chest and looks to me for direction...cause I know he's lost right now.

Poor King. He can't...I watch him...in pity...dammit I'm not supposed to FEEL this kind of attachment to students!

I move towards King, but just then the bell rings. Little Stanley is the first to bolt and run, a movement that pains King even more. I watch as everyone else leaves the classroom, yet King still makes no action to go. Instead he just stands there. After the last person has left, King turns to me.

"I… I didn't mean it," I can barely decipher from him. His voice is so quiet that he's nearly mouthing the words.

I frown. "I know you didn't. He knows too, I'm sure. He's just hurt right now. He wouldn't expect that to come from you," I explain. I know it's true. Stan knows in his heart that King would NEVER say that to him. Just like Stan and Kyle, they love each other too much. They're my own spawns of Style. I have never been happier to teach sex-ed than I am right now. And now its time to patch things up, Kenny style.

"Bu-but, he HATES me now!" King exclaims, and before I can put another word in, he dissolves into tears, and my heart breaks a little. Poor kid.

"Hey, hey, none of that," I attempt to console. "It'll be fine, he can't stay mad forever, trust me on this one."

"I'm such an IDIOT!" Aw man, he's starting in with the put downs. I'm no good at comforting. And Porshea is totally pole dancing in the doorway--I can sense her from a mile away. That, and her perfume is really strong today.

"Dude, look. Don't cry. Stan...believe me. I know him." King stops his rolling tears briefly to look back at me, perplexed.

"Well," I correct, "I don't know HIM. But, well, you know what I mean," I attempt. God, I'M the idiot.

King looks at me, puzzled. "What?"

"You know," I attempt to explain. "Big Stan, little Stan, they're practically the same person! It's a little weird, actually."

I see a faint smile appear on King's face. "He's not that little." It takes a moment to register that King just made a dirty comment.

A wide grin helplessly spreads across my face, and I lay both my hands onto King's shoulders. "This is a minor set back. He'll...forget about it in a day."

King's smile fades again. "A whole day?" He closes his eyes and beats his head against an invisible brick wall. "I was still talking to that jackass Melvin! I thought HE was hassling me again! I would never -EVER- hurt my Stan."

MY Stan? Oh dear God I think I'm going to have a premature orgasm on the spot. "I'm sure he knows that, King," I tell him reassuringly, trying my best to hide any glow from his previous statement.

He sighs.

"Oh, and dude. Your paper. Shit, dude! Are you EVER going to let him know any of that?"

King looks horrified. "What? He'll totally freak out, and then he won't want to be my friend anymore! You're not going to tell him are you?"

I shake my head, reassuring the boy. "No, that's up to you. But shit dude. You write like ten years ahead of your time! Why the hell are you not in the gifted program at some hoity-toity school?"

King grins at this. "Sometimes I do bad on purpose. That way I can still be near Stan, and they can't take me away anywhere."

I put my arm around the kid, directing him toward the door. "Your secret's safe with me, Lucas." His name sounds funny. "As long as you don't pretend to do bad in here, okay?" Holy shit, I just urged my student to try in class!

This is a whole new playing field for me.

King looks up at me and smiles, his tears fading fast. "I won't. I promise. Thanks Mr. M." And like that, he's out of my hair. And Porshea has run over to me playing WITH my hair.

"Heyyyyy Kenny," she coos at me, curling a lock of my hair around her finger. "I can't wait for tonight, can you?"

I grab my wife by the waist. "I can't wait for tonight either. Actually, I can't wait at all. Let's go." We leave the classroom, frolicking down the hallways to 'our' closet. We pass by the boys bathrooms on the way.

"One moment, I have to take a piss," I inform her. "I 'll be back in a sex. I mean sec."

Porshea giggles an insanely high-pitched giggle she does EVERYTIME I "mistake" those words. "Oh Kenny, you're such a tease."

Ha. She waits impatiently outside the door. I see her unbutton the top button of her shirt. For what? Preparation, baby. When you're trained professionals like us, you know to be ready to go! No delays.

Wait, what's this? I hear a little whimper coming from one of the stalls. And since this school sucks with money, I have to pee with the little kids.

And since I feel like having a heart today, I guess I'll see what's up with the crying boy.

I walk over to the stall from which the cries originate, and knock gently on the door. "You all right in there, big guy?" I ask.

"Go away," is the cliché response I get. But the voice sounds familiar. I peek through the tiny space between the door, and see a mess of black hair.

It's totally Stan.

"Stan?" I ask curiously, only to make it look like I wasn't totally gawking at a student in the bathroom.

He sniffs in response.

"Stan, it's Mr. M, can I come in?"

I wait a moment, and then the door swings open ever so slightly. I take the opportunity to slip through the door, relocking it behind me, not caring how bad this looks. I turn around and see little Stan, peering up at me through the spaces in his fingers since his hands cover his face. His hair is disheveled, like he had just been ruffling it within an inch of its life. I bend down onto my knees, so I'm at his level.

"L-Lucas doesn't l-l-like me anymoooooooore!" he whines so softly but yet filled with emotion. I'm sure his little world is breaking right now. I can't even imagine how it would feel to secretly love someone and feel that person hates you when really they secretly love you back and you could totally get together and not be secret about it anymore. Screw the fact they're still too young to have chest hair.

"Hey, hey, hey, that's not true!" I exclaim, rubbing Stan's back consolingly.

"It is so!" he hiccups at me. "He said the 'f' word to me! And-and I don't even know what I d-d-did!" More tears freefall down his face.

"Shhh, you didn't do anything wrong Stan!"

"Th-then why's he mad?"

This may be my chance to help out King and his problem. "He's not mad at you, Stan."

"Then why'd he yell at meeee!" His crying is causing a pain in my chest. Oh god, am I having a heart attack at age 28?

"Look at me, Stan," I instruct him. Without his attention, he won't listen to me. He sniffs several more times, wipes his nose off on his sleeve, and looks at me through glassy eyes. "King is NOT mad at you. Sometimes people say things they don't mean towards other people. You were not who he was yelling at--he just happened to think you were someone else. Someone who makes fun of him."

He sniffs again. "I would NEVER make fun of him. He is my bestest friend."

"I know," I say, realizing I'm going to have to spell it out for him. "But who was making fun of you guys when he yelled at you?"

Stan looks at me inquiringly. "Me-Me-Melvin?" he asks me.

"Exactly. So do you maybe think that since Melvin (snort) was making fun of the way you call him Lu, maybe King snapped a little?"

"B-but I like calling him Lu. I'm the only one that does it. It's my special name for him." He frowns. Man, am I going to have to tell him everything? The kid's so dense, I could probably say his best friend wants to bone him, and he would say "but I LIKE being his best friend."

"That's the point. That's YOUR nickname for him. Not Melvins." Haha, that name gets me everytime. Ah, be serious Kenny.

Stan looks at me, confused. "I don't get it."

I try not to roll my eyes. How can I tell him, without giving away too much? "Erm..Stan, have you ever thought that since YOU'RE the only one who calls him that, other…um…kids, may think there's something… uh else going on?"

"Huh?" he asks, puzzled beyond all belief. Clearly, his little brain has never thought that far, because he looks like he's trying to divide 468,000 by 35 in his head. Finally, his eyes get really big, and I see a faint blush form on his face.

Wait. One. Minute. This kid is seriously blushing! Could it be? I try my best to stay calm.

"Wh-why would people think that?" he stutters. His body stiffens, making me suspect something that I hadn't seen before.

"Uh-well see Stan-" I start, but he interrupts me.

"I mean, that's so dumb. We're friends. Just friends. Well, best friends. But not like that. I don't like him like that. And he doesn't like ME like that!"

Each time I open my mouth to speak, I can't find the right words. I look around the stall, nodding to Stan, but he has absolutely no idea what I'm nodding at. How to attack this issue, but keep King in the clear...for now.

"Yeah. You're best friends." I swallow, trying to get some wetness into my dry throat. "Don't ever think King is mad at you. Or hates you. It's not true." He loves you.

SHIT! Almost said that out loud.

Stan smiles lightly, reassured. "You-you're sure?"

"Absolutely. I bet if you went to go talk to him, he'd apologize right away, and then you guys can go right back to being the best of friends!" And maybe something more.

Stan beams at me. "I'm going to go do that right now!" he exclaims, his happy attitude back. He stands up while wiping the remainder tears off of his face.

I smile and watch him practically frolic out the door. I stand with a goofy grin on my face for about 2.5 minutes until I remember what I originally came in to do.

I do my duty, making sure to wash my hands, and exit the premise. Porshea is tapping her nails on the brick wall.

"What took you so long?" She whines at me.

I smile at her. "There was a student distress call. Some kid was crying in the bathroom, but I made it all better."

"Kenny, you are like, so sweet!" she gushes at me.

I grin mischievously, pulling myself nearer to her. "I'm all sugar, baby."

Her eyes light up. "Like a lollipop?"

I lick my lips. "You can suck on me anytime."

"Great. How about now?" She says, pinching my ass. God DAMN I love my wife.

"Now sounds good." I grab my wife by the arm and lead her into the dark confines of the closet.

I close the door, making sure it's locked. No repeats of last year's incidents.

Four minutes later, I close my eyes.

"This does NOT taste like a lollipop, Kenny."

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