I don't know what high schoolers wear. I don't know what they do or what classes they take. It's been four (or more) years since I was in high school. I'm a dinosaur.

Chapter Three
Pizza Day

Ed looked at himself critically in the mirror of the bathroom he shared with Al. His hair was messy, but not too messy, pulled back into the usual braid down his back. He'd picked out his usual black jeans, boots, and his dark gray jacket, then jazzed thing up a little with a red v-neck shirt. The temperature in California had been surprisingly cool, at least in comparison with Ed's expectations. He'd been dreaming about balmy summer weather all year round. Luckily Al had forced him to bring a few jackets and long-sleeved shirts anyway. And maybe it was better than this, he thought, rearranging his bangs one more time before slipping on his gloves. At least this way he wouldn't get awkward questions about his prosthetics on the first day of class.

"Ed!" Winry called from the kitchen. "We're going to be late!"

"Coming!" Ed replied. He'd overslept on the first day of school (already), and Al had needed to come to his room and wake him up. Then he'd spent so long getting ready that he hadn't had time for breakfast, but that didn't matter so much; he was used to going without food until lunch. He took a deep breath, nodded solemnly at his reflection, and turned on his heel, flicking off the bathroom light on his way out.

Winry was tapping her foot in the kitchen, and Al was sitting at the table, looking slightly queasy. He was always worse with nerves than Ed, who tended to act overconfident when he was feeling anxious. "Finally," Winry said. "It took you long enough."

Ed shrugged. "Our school back home has uniforms," he replied. Picking out an outfit for school was something totally new for him. He hoped it didn't take him this long to figure something out every time. He slipped on his shoes as Al got up.

Al was wearing olive green corduroys, turned up slightly at the ankles, with a white shirt, a cute brown cardigan, and a tan jacket. Ed wished he could look so effortlessly fashionable all the time, but his own style was a self-conscious mix of punk and practical, which never turned out quite the way that he wanted.

"Are you ready?" Al asked quietly, moving over to stand next to him as Winry grabbed her car keys.

Ed shrugged and grinned up at him. "Do I have a choice?"

"It's fifteen minutes to school," Winry said, brushing past them to the garage door. Ed and Al trailed behind her like lost puppies and watched as she unlocked the car. "So we should get there by seven-forty, which gives us plenty of time to see the dean and get your schedules. What electives did you sign up for?"

Ed took shotgun and Al got in the back seat, which was their usual arrangement for car rides. "Programming and metalwork," Ed said, turning so he could look out the window. He'd been here a week already but had yet to be bored by the scenery.

"I'm taking the third year French class and band," Al replied.

"Ooh, what instrument?"

"Oboe," Al said. "I had lessons for it a while ago and I'm hoping I haven't forgotten everything."

Winry laughed. "Well, our band doesn't actually march, so you shouldn't have too much of a learning curve," she replied. "I watched a documentary about a high school marching band once. All the practices and the rehearsals looked like hell. Especially since it was in Texas. Are there marching bands in Germany?"

Ed tuned out the conversation, leaning his elbow on the window and propping up his chin in his hand. They had visited the school a few days ago, just so Winry could take them around and familiarize them with its layout; Ed wondered how things would look with students streaming through the halls. Though Winry said it was a small school, the buildings (and the parking lot) had been much bigger than Ed expected.

Al would probably have the easiest time of things, Ed reflected. He was integrating into the freshman class, which meant he would be among a bunch of other kids who were attending Central High for the first time, though many of them were probably arriving with groups of friends from their previous schools. Meanwhile, Ed was entering school as a junior. He imagined that by now, most of the people in his grade would have cliques and reputations. Winry, who was born a year before Al and a year after Ed, and was therefore a sophomore, had assured him he would be popular if only because of his "sexy" German accent. But Ed wasn't sure if he wanted to hang out with the popular kids, assuming they would even talk to him. Those weren't the kind of people he'd hang out with in Resembool, even if he felt like making friends.

He came out of his reverie slightly as they approached the school, which loomed in the distance like a pile of blocks—the buildings were rectangular with flat roofs, and the two-story ones resembled cardboard boxes stacked haphazardly on top of one another. Winry and Al had fallen silent, and the silence held as Winry pulled into the parking lot and parked her pickup truck near the back of the parking lot.

"Here we are," she said. The car was barely stopped before Ed had unbuckled and hopped out, bag in hand, looking around at the suddenly bustling parking lot. "It's a long walk to the principal's office, sorry," Winry added apologetically, grabbing her backpack. "But I always park in the back. It helps me get out of here sooner." She laughed.

"Is parking arranged by grade level?" Ed asked. Over dinner last night, Winry had started telling them about the privileges of seniority in American high schools, but they had gotten sidetracked in a discussion of American movies and pop culture.

Winry shrugged and began heading across the lot, trailed by Ed and Al. "Seniors generally take the first two rows, and if you park there and they know you're a junior or a sophomore, you'll get harassed. But otherwise, it's fair game."

The parking lot was already pretty full, even though school wasn't starting for twenty minutes, and as they walked to the school Ed felt (or thought he felt) several curious gazes trained his way. Central High wasn't too big, and only had three feeder middle schools, so he imagined that everyone was pretty familiar with each other already. He and Al must stick out like sore thumbs.

Luckily, they didn't have to walk through the halls before getting to the dean's office, which was located near the front of the first building. Winry got them inside by announcing that she was escorting the two new German exchange students; Ed looked around the office and resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the motivational posters plastered around the room. They were just as bad in English as they were in German.

The dean of students, at her desk, looked up as soon as Winry entered. "Good morning!" she said brightly. She was a lot younger than Ed expected, with short hair and sparkling hazel eyes. It immediately made him suspicious. "I'm Gracia Elointon. You must be Edward and Alphonse Elric." She stood behind her desk and reached out to shake Al's hand, then Ed's. "I've already got folders for you both. Ed, you'll be a junior, right?" She turned to Al, handing him a folder. "And Al, you're a freshman?"

Al had taken the folder reluctantly, looking at Ed, while Winry, standing towards the back of the office, had both hands over her mouth, smothering giggles. "Um," Al began when Ed refused to make a move to accept the folder. "I'm Alphonse. That's Edward." He handed Ed the folder he had received.

"Oh!" The dean looked surprised for a minute, like most people did when they realized that Ed was the oldest of the pair. Ed was used to it by now. That didn't mean he liked it. "My apologies, Edward." She handed the freshman year folder to Al.

"Right," Ed said, earning himself a slightly disapproving look from Al and a surprised look from Ms. Elointon. Instead of responding gracefully, like he knew he probably should, he flipped open the folder, pulling out his schedule.

After a short pause, the principal continued her speech—welcome to Central High, what a great learning opportunity, we hope you make the best of it, please come to me if you have any trouble, blah, blah, blah. Ed busied himself looking over his schedule.

Central High worked on an eight-period system, with each class spanning one hour of the eight to three school day. One of the three periods in the middle of the day would be set aside for lunch. Ed, typically, had gotten the last lunch. Otherwise, his schedule didn't seem too bad:

1st period: Dr. Marcoh, AP Calculus, Room 205
2nd period: Ms. Schezka, English Literature, Room 805
3rd period: Mr. Armstrong, Metalworking, Room FA5
4th period: Mr. Grand, U.S. History, Room 810
5th period: Ms. Armstrong, Study Hall, Room 601
6th period: Lunch
7th period: Mr. Tucker, Introduction to Computer Programming, Room 403
8th period: Mr. Kimblee, AP Chemistry, Room 210

By the time he was done perusing it, Ms. Elointon had mostly finished her speech, which was fine with Ed. He didn't particularly want to spend any more time in the overly cheery office. It unnerved him.

"So welcome to Central High, and I'm so glad you're with us for the year," the principal finished, giving them both a wide smile. If she was aware that Ed had tuned out for the entirety of her little lecture, she didn't show it.

"Thank you," Al said, and a moment later, Ed added, "Thanks," offering her a grin that was more forced than felt. Still, Ed figured he had made an effort. And maybe the office wasn't a front, and she really was as nice as she seemed (yeah, right—she'd probably turn out like his counselor back in Resembool).

"I'm going to take you both to your lockers now," Winry said, peering over Ed's shoulder at his schedule. The locker number was printed on top, along with the combination; Ed made a mental note never to lose this paper. "Ooh, you have Kimblee for Chemistry," she added, snickering a little. "Good luck with that."

"Wait, what am I supposed to expect?" Ed asked, squawking a little—already, apparently, one of his teachers had a Reputation. But Winry wasn't listening.

"Your locker is in the hall next to your first class, lucky you," Winry said, grabbing Ed's wrist and Al's wrist and towing them both away from the dean's office and down the hall, which was rapidly growing more crowded. Ed's locker was in the same building, and he had to step over several people, sitting on the floors and chattering to one another, to get there. "You know how to open the lock, right?" Winry asked brightly.

The padlock didn't look too daunting. And Ed had the combination. "I'll manage," he grumbled as she dragged Al away to find his locker.

"Good luck!" Al called, his voice nearly as bright as Winry's. Ed waved them both off. He knew Al would do fine—better than him, probably—on his first day of school.

Opening his locker was daunting but doable, even though it took about five minutes and Ed was red-faced from the imagined stares of passers-by as he had struggled with it. Really, not too many people had paid attention to him; it was the first day of school and the returning students were used to seeing freshmen cursing at their padlocks. Ed stuffed some extra binders and notebooks into the empty space, keeping two in his backpack, before looking around the ever more crowded hallway. Winry had told him that his calculus classroom was in the same general area; to his relief, Ed spotted room 207 just feet away and followed the numbers down to 205.

The bell hadn't rung yet, but when Ed peeked into the classroom, there were already a few people there—two girls who were sitting next to each other and chatting about their summers, and a blond-haired boy with his head pillowed on his arms. He looked like he was fast asleep.

Ed pushed the door open and entered the room, glancing around before picking a seat in the back of the class, on the opposite side of the room from the sleeping student. Then he got out a notebook and crossed his fingers awkwardly, before deciding that looked too nerdy and leaning his chin on his hand instead.

As people filed into the classroom, Ed pretended not to notice the curious looks he was receiving. This was a senior level class, the highest math class available at Central High (it would probably still be a little easier than whatever Ed would have taken in Germany), and therefore it was probably obvious that he was new to the class. Luckily, the bell rang before Ed could get too uncomfortable, and the teacher, an older man with a flat nose and graying hair, walked into the room.

"Good morning, class, and welcome to AP Calculus," Dr. Marcoh said. Ed wondered why a man with a doctorate in anything would choose to teach at an out of the way high school in Dublith, California. "It's good to see you all here today. And you all probably know that we have a long, hard road ahead of us until the AP tests in May. Now, I have the syllabus for the course with me, but first—"

Marcoh's speech was cut off when the door opened and two more students stumbled inside. "Sorry we're late, Dr. Marcoh," the first one said in a deep, rich voice. He had straight black hair that brushed nonchalantly away from his face, and Ed wasn't sure whether to find his confident smirk annoying or attractive. He leaned toward considering it annoying.

"We were caught in traffic, or something," the second arrival said, grinning. He looked like he had just woken up, with dark smudges under his eyes, but that wasn't what caught Ed's attention—the boy's dark hair was long and streaked with green, tied in an unruly ponytail at the top of his head, and his dark eyes were amused. Unlike the other student, Ed didn't have to determine he was attractive or not. The tight black jeans and tight shirt didn't hide much, nor did the multiple bead and jelly bracelets adorning the student's slim wrists. Ed swallowed and stared down at his notebook.

Marcoh frowned. "Envy Bradley. Roy Mustang. Looks like you're getting your term as student body president off to a good start. I won't count you tardy this time, but consider it a warning."

The shorter-haired student chuckled, having the grace to look a bit sheepish. "Sorry, Dr. Marcoh," he said. "Won't happen again. If I can help it." Ed assumed that was Roy Mustang, student body president. He decided immediately that Mustang was more annoying than attractive, if he was involved in student government.

The other student, Envy Bradley, didn't seem bothered at all. He grinned, waved to the class, and flopped down into one of the open desks at the front of the classroom, next to Mustang. Ed watched the back of his ponytail under the pretext of listening to Dr. Marcoh.

"As I was saying," Dr. Marcoh continued, with a long-suffering expression, "before I hand out the syllabus, I you all to have a chance to introduce yourselves."

Oh God, no, Ed thought, instantly freezing up. He didn't come to America for this.

"So, in order from the front of the classroom to the back, I'd like you to say your first name, last name, and a little bit about yourself. I know some of you, but I haven't had a chance to teach all of you and I want to build a sense of classroom camaraderie." He offered them a smile. Ed scowled back. "Noah, why don't you start us off?"

Apparently, Noah was a girl's name, Ed thought with mild surprise as one of the girls who had been in the classroom from the beginning stood, turned, and smiled at the class. "Hi, I'm Noah Grey. I know most of you know me, but I'm president of the school's Equestrian Club if any of you are looking to join." She gave a shy wave before turning back around and sitting down again.

Equestrian Club? Ed wondered with some derision. But it made sense; Dublith was a fairly rural area and he imagined many of the students lived on farms or ranches, like the Rockbells.

He tuned out until it was Envy Bradley's turn to introduce himself. Envy made a show of great effort as he rose to his feet, looking at the class apathetically. "Envy Bradley," he said flatly. "I don't really want to be here today. That's my fact." As he turned around to flop back into his desk, his eyes met Ed's. Maybe Ed was imagining it, but he thought he saw Envy widen his eyes for a moment before turning all the way back around.

Ed didn't pay much attention to any of the other introductions, though he half listened to Roy Mustang introduce himself, promise a great welcoming speech at the rally at the end of the day (so there would be a rally? that was new), and advertise student council elections at the end of the month. Most people, actually, were using this platform to promote various clubs and organizations. They were all so involved. Ed was privately disgusted.

His turn came too soon for his liking. Ed stood up. "Hello," he said awkwardly, hyper-conscious of his accent even after one word. "My name is Edward Elric." Then, because he knew there was no way of getting out of explaining sooner or later, he added, "I'm an exchange student from Germany. I'll be studying here this year." Then, feeling the heat rush to his cheeks, he sat back down.

"Ah, welcome," Dr. Marcoh said. "I hope you enjoy your year with us, and if you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask."

Ed nodded mechanically, already bored of the class, the teacher, the subject, and the three other introductions that followed his own. When he had stood up in the front of the class, he hadn't looked to see whether Envy was listening. But he thought he'd seen Envy turn to look at him, something he hadn't done for anyone else in the class.

Who was he kidding, Ed wondered as Marcoh passed out the syllabi and discussed his expectations and plans for the course. Envy looked like another Problem Kid anyway, the type that Ms. Vanderbilt probably wouldn't want him hanging around. And Ed hadn't come here to make friends. He'd just applied to this exchange program to get out of Germany, away from Resembool, away from Vanderbilt, away from his dad.

Still, if his eyes kept drifting to the back of Envy's head as the class period continued, who could blame him?

x.o.x

By the time lunch rolled around, Ed was starving and pretty much done with the day, actually and metaphorically speaking. He'd survived five of his seven classes (to be fair, one of the periods had been a study hall) and, only had to introduce himself in three of them, including calculus. He mostly hadn't looked like a fool, as far as he was aware, and, while he hadn't made any friends, he hadn't made any enemies, either. For someone like Ed, that was an accomplishment.

On the other hand, his teachers were among the strangest collection of adults he had ever met. Dr. Marcoh was fairly normal, but Ms. Shezka, the English teacher, was a timid bookworm who would get suddenly enthusiastic about something she had read. She was easily distracted and always seemed hassled. Mr. Armstrong lived up to his name, with a big body and an even bigger (if that was possible) personality. When he heard Ed was from Germany, his blue eyes had filled with tears and he said something about how the country had been the homeland of his family for generations. Ed had tuned out pretty quick.

Mr. Grand also lived up to his name—as big as Armstrong but darker, he taught history with an ominous glare and an emphasis on memorization. Ed was prepared to hate that class. Finally, Ms. Armstrong, his study hall supervisor, was probably related somehow to Mr. Armstrong, but had a completely different personality. Well-toned and definitely attractive, she projected an aura of cool capability that Ed found reassuring. And she hadn't forced him to introduce himself in front of the class. Ed could live with that. She had been his favorite teacher of the day so far.

Now it was lunch—Ed had escaped the weird adults to mill around in the lunch line with all the weird students. It looked like Al didn't have last lunch with him, nor did Winry. Ed supposed he would just grit his teeth and bear eating alone. The food looked crappy, too. Today's meal was apparently thin crust cardboard pizza, salad (mostly cabbage) drenched in a mayonnaise-based dressing, an overdone chocolate chip cookie, and a carton of milk.

Tray in hand, Ed was heading towards the cafeteria table when he was suddenly flanked by two people.

"It gets better if you don't think about what you're eating," one of them said, and Ed twisted around and looked up to see Roy Mustang grinning (more like smirking) down at him. "This year I'm spearheading a push to get us better cafeteria food, but until Central High gets a little more money, I'm afraid we're out of luck."

His little speech was met with a quiet snort from the person Ed's other side. Already knowing what he would see, Ed turned around to find Envy, holding his own tray and staring straight ahead.

"He thinks I make everything into a campaign speech," Roy explained. "You're Edward, right? Our German exchange student?"

Silently, Ed nodded. He wasn't quite sure what to say to Roy, who really did make everything sound like a campaign speech. He was probably one of those assholes who was going to go to law school and run for President, or Congress, or whatever, and try to rule the world.

"I'm Roy Mustang," Roy continued, as if Ed didn't know. He was apparently unaffected by Ed's taciturn behavior. "It's nice to meet you. I hear you're a junior? I'm impressed you're taking AP Calculus. Though I hear math classes are much more advanced in Europe."

"Probably," Ed said, a little unwillingly. After only talking with Al for most of his high school years (and Winry, at least during this past week), he felt like his social skills were pretty unforgivably rusty. That, and he knew his accent singled him out immediately. But Roy didn't seem to care.

"Maybe you can tutor me," he replied with a chuckle, steering them towards a table in the back of the cafeteria. Ed didn't particularly want to sit with him—and Envy, still walking along silently next to him, was a presence that made him even more uncomfortable—but he figured that sitting by yourself in a cafeteria was either social suicide or an invitation for even weirder people to come up and try to befriend you. Or both. So he dealt with it, sitting down on one side of the table while Roy and Envy took the other side.

Roy, apparently, wasn't done with the third degree. "So how was your day?" he asked as he picked up his cardboard-like slice of pizza, taking a bite. He was apparently unaffected by the taste.

Ed poked at his own pizza. It was greasy. "Not bad," he said.

"When I walked into class and saw you I thought you were a freshman who had wandered into our calculus class by mistake," Roy continued blithely. Ed's head jerked up. He thought he saw a glint of amusement in Roy's eye. "Have you always been short for your age?"

Edward tried not to get annoyed at the 'short' joke, he really did. But after holding his temper in check the entire day (even when people like Mr. Armstrong tested it constantly), his patience was rubbed raw. "WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SHORT HE'S INVISIBLE COMPARED TO A BABY ANT, YOU FREAKY COWBOY PRESIDENT?"

The cafeteria fell silent for a moment as every head turned in Ed's direction. Mortified, Ed felt his face begin to flush.

The tension was broken by a loud snort. Envy, next to Roy, had clapped a hand over his mouth and was rocking back and forth in silent merriment. "'Freaky cowboy president?'" he giggled, glancing up at Roy, who was grinning as well.

"Uh, sorry," Ed said, glancing around the cafeteria again. Normal conversation was resuming, albeit slowly. "I, uh, just. Don't call me short."

"Is it because your last name is Mustang or because you're a hick?" Envy asked, his hand still over his mouth to stifle his laughter. Roy punched him in the shoulder.

"Sorry," Ed said again.

"You should make that your campaign slogan. Freaky cowboy president, haha."

Roy rolled his eyes and, this time, smacked Envy in the side of the head, pushing him a little. "I get it, I get it," he said to both of them. Then he addressed himself to Ed. "No calling you short. Understood." Though he was still grinning in a way that made Ed grit his teeth and prepare himself for many more short jokes in the foreseeable future. "Are you always that good at coming up with nicknames, or is it just when your height is threatened?" Roy continued.

Ed shrugged. "Whatever."

Roy glanced at Envy, who was now pushing around his salad with his fork. "He's back to one word answers, En."

Envy glanced up, first at Roy, then at Ed, and opened his mouth to reply, but whatever he was going to say was lost with the arrival of another dark-haired student, who plopped himself down on the bench next to Ed. "Ling!" Envy said, perking up immediately. "You weren't in Marcoh's class this morning. Did you sleep too late again? You missed our grand entrance. One minute after the bell but he still said he'd give us a warning."

Ed looked between Envy and Ling, the newcomer, who was sitting a little too close for Ed's highly developed sense of personal space. Envy had barely said a word to him, but here he was chattering away with this guy. Ed wondered if that signified something. He was having a hard time figuring out the dynamics of these friendships—not that he cared.

"I'm dropping that class," Ling said with a lazy shrug. "Marcoh's a hardass, I had him for Algebra I. I don't want to deal with that again."

"Lame," Envy said, flicking some drops of salad dressing at Ling with the tip of his plastic fork. They spattered on the table. Unthinkingly, Ed grabbed his napkin and wiped them up, drawing the attention of the entire group.

"Oh!" Roy said. "Ling, this is Edward Elric. He's new. German exchange student. Edward, this is Ling Yao. He's another senior, and apparently too lazy to suffer through AP Calculus with us."

"I feel like it's a betrayal of our friendship," Envy commented as Ling turned to grin at Ed and stick out his hand for Ed to shake. He had a toothy grin and long, black hair (though not as long or weird as Envy's); Ed felt like he vaguely recognized him, probably from study hall. "Nice to meet you! Sprichst du Deutsch?"

"Ja, natürlich," Ed replied automatically, frowning at the obvious question. "Und du?"

"Ein wenig," Ling said, grinning widely as he switched to English. "I actually lived in Germany for a little bit, when I was young. My dad was in the Air Force. But he put me in American schools, so I only picked up a little. I guess he figured English and Chinese were plenty for a seven year old."

Ed glanced at Envy and Roy, who had been silent during the exchange; Roy looked amused, but Envy was rolling his eyes. He looked back at Ling, not sure what to say to that. "Cool."

"So where are you from?" Ling continued, managing to wolf down his pizza while questioning Ed. Ed, on his part, answered the questions gamely, though in his usual short sentences. He was trying to be on his best behavior—and that probably meant revealing as little about his school life in Germany as possible. At the same time, he made no effort to eat his pizza. The school lunch looked weird enough that he had pretty much lost his appetite, and he resolved to try to bring his own lunch as much as possible.

While Ling was interrogating him (and shoveling in his food), Roy and Envy had commenced a quiet conversation; Ed was half trying to eavesdrop and half reminding himself that he didn't actually care. He heard something about a brother, a speech, and a band, and wondered, not for the first time, what his unofficially appointed welcoming committee was doing here.

Finally, Ling finished his food and, apparently, his conversation. He pointed at Ed's tray. "Are you gonna finish that?"

Ed shook his head.

"Can I have it?"

"Pig," Envy said, breaking off his conversation to watch Ling pull Ed's tray over in front of him and dig in to that too.

"I didn't get any breakfast, and I love pizza day," Ling replied, unperturbed, with his mouth full. He finally looked up at Envy and Roy. "Why were you two late to calculus, anyway?"

"Coffee," Roy said at the same time Envy replied, "Lust."

Ed wasn't sure if he'd heard right. He frowned slightly and looked around the group. No one else looked surprised. Envy's gaze flicked to him. "My sister," he explained. "Half-sister. She forgot to buy more coffee after we ran out yesterday. And I didn't realize it until this morning."

"But was it deliberate sabotage, or was it an accident?" Ling pressed as Ed tried to keep up with the conversation. So Envy had a sister named "Lust"? He had been thinking "Envy" was just a weird name, maybe a nickname—initials? N.V.?—but maybe his family had a theme going on. This actually made things even stranger. Who would name their kids after the seven deadly sins? Were there seven of them?

"—so Greed and I threw a fit, and then Roy took me to Starbucks like I'm some teenage girl," Envy concluded, putting his elbow on the table and pillowing his chin in his hand. Ed noticed that he hadn't eaten much of his lunch either.

"And then he spilled coffee in my car, like a two year old that happens to drink coffee, so we had to clean that up to. Actually, it's amazing we even made it to class." Roy grinned.

Envy shrugged. "I would have preferred to skip." He glanced at Ling, who was powering through Ed's lunch, and pushed his own tray across the table, glancing around the group. His gaze slid away from Ed's almost immediately. It was confusing. "I've gotta go." Without any further explanation, he stood and walked out of the cafeteria.

"Typical," Ling said with his mouth full, pulling Envy's tray toward him as well.

Roy glanced from Ling to Ed, his grin changing to a smirk—the same smirk he'd had in calculus, and which had made Ed think he'd be annoying from the very beginning. (He hadn't been wrong.) "He was the one who wanted us to sit over here in the first place," Roy said mildly.

Ling opened his mouth to ask a question—probably the same thing that Ed wanted to ask—but was sidetracked as he saw someone else walk into the cafeteria, entering through the doors from which Envy had just left. "Ooh, Roy, look who it is," he said.

Ed looked. It was just a blonde girl with a scowl on his face. "Roy's girlfriend, Riza," Ling explained. "They've been dating basically since they were born."

"Since last year," Roy corrected, turning and waving.

"Officially," Ling retorted. "Unofficially, since they were born."

If Ed hadn't just been told that the two were dating, he never would have guessed; Riza walked up to them stiffly and stood in front of Roy instead of taking a seat. "We're finalizing preparations for the rally," she said. "I got out of AP Bio early to come get everyone together. You're allowed to skip the last two periods."

"Awesome," Roy said, getting to his feet as the bell rang, signaling the end of the lunch period. "You're coming to the rally, right, Edward?"

"Uh," Ed replied. He supposed he didn't really have a choice about it, if Winry and Al wanted to go, since Winry was his ride home.

"Show up," Roy said with a grin. He was standing so close to Riza that their arms were brushing. Now they looked a little bit like a couple. "I've gotta announce all the new students, and you'll be one of them."

Ed stared at him. "Don't you dare. I'm not coming."

Roy's grin widened. "That's the most we've heard out of you that isn't yelling about how you aren't short," he commented. "And sorry, I've gotta do it. School policy." He gave them an ironic salute and left with Riza. Ling mumbled some goodbye too and left, grabbing all three trays to put them in the trash.

Ed remained seated for a few moments, at least until the crush of people left the cafeteria. He definitely wasn't going to any rally, especially not now.

Thanks for your kind reviews! They keep me going. (Actually I'm powered by coffee and self-loathing but let's keep up the illusion...)