On Fridays, John Bender had a double period of shop.

It had been that way every year since he was a freshman, and he had always figured that it was Vernon's way of giving himself a break; by shutting Bender in the furthest room away from the school's offices.

Of course, John wasn't the only badly behaved student at Shermer. Looking around the classroom, it was clear to see that the room was full of them. Delinquents, close to dropping out or held back in school too long that they were too bored to try anymore. And every Friday they gathered in the class room, busying themselves with the machinery, as far away from their school principal as was possible while still remaining on the school site.

Bender imagined this was Vernon's idea of the perfect wet dream.

In reality, they had all chosen to take the class, and their teacher—Mr. Lawrence—didn't seem to mind any of the students he was faced with. In fact, at aged 52 with scraggly grey hair that he tucked away into a pony tail and a gut big enough to knock a small kid out, he gave off the impression that he didn't seem to care about much else in his life either.

Despite the premise, John Bender almost found himself enjoying those two hours every week. Like a break away from everything, where he could cut as much wood as he wanted and drill holes into anything he could find to his hearts content. It was almost peaceful.

Of course, there were the kids who sat at the front who didn't take the class for fun, or because they were good at it, like he had. Shop was considered somewhat of an 'easy A', something to take if you wanted to make your report card look good without too much effort. There were no major tests, nothing to study for. It was the perfect bait.

John had seen students come and go, watched them wince every time they picked up a hammer and not know which machine the band saw was. He spent most of the lessons in near stitches. Most of those types ended up quitting after one term.

Shop was the one class where John actually felt like he knew what he was doing. He was the smart kid for once, and he enjoyed it. Not that he would ever admit that to anyone.

Bender hustled into the room that morning, his bad mood still evident from yesterday. Usually he was marginally happy on Fridays, knowing that he had a two day break from the hell hole known as Shermer high, but with the promise of a full extra day tomorrow he couldn't even bring himself to greet Lawrence as he passed his desk.

"Cheerful as ever, Bender," he said as he passed.

"Piss off," John replied, dropping himself down into his seat. Lawrence just chuckled.

"No thanks. Just get to work today."

Bender nodded, and ignored everyone for the rest of the period.

It wasn't until he went up to the front of the class that he actually zoned back into reality, allowing himself to listen in to the talking going on around the classroom. He had been meaning to ask for Lawrence's advice on which type of wood to use, but found that his teacher was already in a conversation with one of the 'easy A' kids, a dweeb whose name Bender had never bothered to learn.

"Look, I-I know that the lamp left a little to…um…be desired. But if you could just reconsider the grading—just please reconsider, because the woodwork was some of my best…at least I think…and-"

Lawrence cut him off.

"Brian, the light didn't turn on. That was what I was grading on. I can't let you pass when it didn't happen, you know that. If I did that, then I'd have to pass everyone else in here, and it would be anarchy."

The corners of Bender's mouth twitched at the reply.

"Is there any extra credit I could get? I just really, really can't get an F. I just can't. It will mess up my GPA and-"

He was cut off again.

"Why did you take this class, Johnson?"

"Well…I…u-um I thought it would be fun."

"I think we both know what the truth is. But don't worry, I don't mind, because now you've learned that it's not as easy as it looks. High school's tough, Johnson."

He paused, and eyed Brian for a few seconds.

"Look, I don't like grading pieces badly. In fact, it kills me inside. Almost as much as it kills me to see bad sanding of a product. But I can't move your grade up."

"But wha-"

"I'm not finished. I can, however, offer extra credit, but the highest you'll be able to get is a B, at a push. Then I think next term you should look into taking a different class instead. Is that okay?"

"Yes. Yes, sir. That's perfect, even. This helps—helps more than you know. Honestly."

"Alright, then. Now why don't you have a look again at this lamp and see if you can figure out why it doesn't work and I'll sort out the extra work for our next lesson."

The boy—Brian—nodded, and grabbed his wooden lamp from the desk. He turned and almost abruptly collided with Bender's chest, but he moved away before they came into contact. Brian's face visibly fell as he looked up at the other, much taller, scowling boy, and then he made to leave again before Bender could say anything. Bender noted how he had looked like a deer caught in car headlights, like he had just run into him as he was raising his fist. He liked having that effect on people.

"What can I do for you, Bender?" said Lawrence, snapping Bender out of his daze.

Once the conversation was over, John went straight back to work, but no amount of woodwork could shake off his fowl mood.