Updated: 4-12-08

Disclaimer: I have no delusions about owning or holding rights over Newsies; you shouldn't either. Don't sue.
Also, any pop culture references...guess what? Don't own those either. Actually...anything that you may have heard of and/or recognized in this story is owned by someone who isn't me.

Warning:Updates may (and probably will be) slow.
This contains SLASH, in other words same sex couples. If this doesn't appeal to you, you shouldn't be here. It also contains drug use, violence, sexual situations, and may contain a(n OC) death. This story is marked for mature readers only, please treat it as such.

Pairings: Will be switching around quite a bit. If you have any preferences please let me know. They probably won't end up together unless I already planned for it to happen, but I can put in a couple flings for you if you ask nice enough

Getting Back Together Again

V
School Sucks And So Do You

Spot raced through New York traffic on his motorcycle, smirking as he cut someone off and got flipped the bird. It would be worth celebrating his birthday every year if he kept getting presents like this.

The fact that he was traveling to school of all places did little to ruin his good mood because he was on a fucking motorcycle. Unfortunately the trip didn't seem to take long enough as the school building suddenly loomed ahead.

After he pulled into a parking spot he put the kick stand down and jumped off his bike. He walked towards the school with a smirk and saw the four people he had talked to at lunch standing along a wall smoking much like on Friday afternoon.

"Hey Sean!" Itey called out, "We were just talking about you!"

"No we weren't!" Dutchy declared as a blush sprang up along his face.

Sean's eyebrow rose at this, but he decided against saying anything.

"We're planning on cutting out at lunch and going down to eat at the closest diner. You want to come with us?" Bumlets invited casually as he took a hit off his cigarette.

"Previous engagement," Sean answered, thinking about how he had to sit with the annoying kid named David today. He quickly took out his own cigarette in the hopes of quelling the irritation that had sprung up at the thought.

"Where'd you get the motorcycle?" Skittery asked as he glanced at the bike that was only a few meters away. He had a look of intense longing on his face.

"Birthday present," Sean replied, shrugging again.

"Whoa, your parents must really love you," Skittery said, drooling slightly as he continued to look at the motorcycle, "Fuck, what I wouldn't give to ride it."

"What I wouldn't give to ride you," Itey answered, successfully taking Skittery's mind off the bike.

"Yeah?" Skitts grinned happily as he turned to look at the other boy.

"Hells yes," Itey ensured before they sprang together and walked as one to wherever Itey's car was parked.

"Uh…they do that sometimes…sorry, if you find it offensive or whatever," Dutchy muttered out to Sean, worried that the other boy was actually a homophobe.

Spot stayed quiet as he lit up his own cigarette and took a large hit.

"If it makes you feel any better I promise not to make out with any guys," Bumlets continued for Dutchy. He appeared to be trying to smooth things over until he kept on talking, "I can't say the same for Dutchy, though he doesn't really get as much dick as you would think."

"Whatever," Sean finally grunted out before taking another hit.

"Does it bother you?" Dutchy asked, terrified of what the answer might be.

"Does what bother me?" Sean asked with pseudo irritation. He knew what the other man was talking about of course; he just enjoyed making people feel awkward and uncomfortable, and by the looks of things Dutchy was very uncomfortable.

"D-does…do g-guys…I mean…wh-when guys…m-m-make…it…it's like…uh…" Dutchy tried to explain.

Spot shot him a look that clearly voiced that he thought Dutchy was an idiot before flicking his cigarette onto the ground and turning to go into the school.

A truly pitiful look appeared on Dutchy's face as he watched his crush walk away.

"Eloquent," Bumlets mock congratulated, being of no help what so ever.

"Fuck you," Dutchy growled out, feeling the frustration at the situation rising in his chest.

"Look," Bumlets replied, finally taking on a sympathetic air, "He never looked disgusted…or even surprised for that matter. I'm sure he's fine with it."

Dutchy just sighed, replacing his frustration with self-pity as he took a hit off his cigarette.

Racetrack stumbled into his assigned seat at his Current Events class not even a second before the bell rang. Right away he noticed Sean sitting in the seat next to him, but he promptly ignored him, not quite sure how he should respond to the Brooklyn gang leader.

Spot rolled his eyes as he noticed the boy next to him (…Racetrack? Yes, that was his name) trying to discreetly look over at him. "What the hell's your problem?" he asked bluntly right before the teacher swept into the room.

Race looked at him with wide eyes for a millisecond before answering truthfully. "I followed you on Saturday; I…you know…know," he forced himself to explain quietly.

Spot narrowed his eyes at him before responding, "Come to the parking lot before second period starts."

"Why should I?" Racetrack answered with a fear that was well masked with defiance.

"Because if you don't," Sean growled out before a smirk slowly crawled onto his face, "Well…I'm the leader of Brooklyn; use your imagination as to what I'll do to you if you fail to show up."

Racetrack nodded his head in acceptance, knowing that the other boy would most likely follow through with whatever it was he had planned if he didn't show up to talk to him. But still (or rather given all that information) he didn't want to go and meet him where no one else would be. "I'm not planning on telling anyone, if that's what you're worried about," he tried.

Sean gave him a look that clearly stated his annoyance at Race for trying to continue talking to him when the conversation was clearly over. "I'm not worried about anything that you could try and do to me," he answered with irritation.

"Sean, please refrain from talking in this class unless called upon," the teacher lectured, breaking up the conversation Racetrack was trying to have with the other boy.

"Fuck off," Sean muttered, but luckily the teacher had already returned to teaching and didn't hear, so a confrontation that Spot would have most certainly and stupidly risen to never occurred.

"Where's Race?" Mush asked Blink with concern when he finished taking his way-too-easy test in his Expressing Opinions class and noticed Racetrack was no where to be found.

"I don't know. You think he's in the nurse's office or something?" Blink replied, not really being much help, but voicing the same concern.

"He certainly didn't seem sick while we were in the car getting here," Mush answered with worry.

"You want to sneak out and see if we can find him?" Blink asked, wanting to know where Race could have gone.

Mush looked around with a worried look on his face, not really wanting to break the schools rules and skip out on class, but at the same time anxious about his friend's whereabouts. "Yeah, let's go," he finally decided.

Sneaking out was an easy enough experience; the teacher didn't pay any attention as they casually just left. The problem arose when they realized they had no idea where to look.

"Let's see if his car's here," Mush finally suggested, walking towards the door, "If it isn't then we know he must have gone off the grounds and we can use one of the pay phones to call his cell."

Blink nodded his head in agreement before tagging along behind the other teen.

As soon as they exited the back door of the school they saw their friend talking to some kid next to a motorcycle.

"That's Sean," Blink pointed out since Mush hadn't seen him yet.

"That's Sean?" Mush asked with disbelief, recognizing the boy from the pay phones last Friday. He took off towards them, suddenly feeling very protective of his friend.

"Hey," Blink whispered, pulling Mush back, "Just wait a second. Let's go in closer and see what they're talking about."

Mush nodded his head, not liking the idea of eavesdropping, but knowing that it was the second best option if he couldn't go up to the two of them and pull Racetrack as far away as he could.

"So are you the one that fixes the horse races?" Racetrack asked in a tone that clearly stated that he would give him a black eye if he did.

Spot snorted, "You think if I did Slingshot would've been cursing for losing all his money on Blue Colt?"

"Well, if the jockeys screwed you over…" Racetrack began to explain.

"Believe me, when I get fucked over I don't stand around like a pussy and cuss; I go right to the source and start bashing heads in," Sean explained.

Racetrack didn't doubt what he said for even a millisecond. "So who does fix the races?"

"The old man who owns the racetrack and his…associates," Sean answered. He smirked, "Why? You want me to do something about it for you?"

"Well…I mean…can't you?" Race stuttered out.

"We've tried to get in on it, but what we'd have to do to gain his trust isn't something I'm willing to get myself into," Spot answered, "And while I could probably hold reign over it if I tried hard enough, it'd be a lot of work because he's the one who owns it."

"What did he want you to do?" Racetrack asked with what could have either been curiosity or just an attempt at keeping a conversation going.

"Kill people that find out about what he's doing but don't contribute to the bribes given to the jockeys," Sean answered nonchalantly. "Killing's a messy business and I refuse to take orders from someone else," he explained, "It'd be just asking for trouble if the Brooklyn gang leader answered to some stupid old man whose only accomplishment in life was inheriting a racetrack."

"Yeah, I guess that's true," Racetrack agreed as his head spun at the idea that there was no way Sean hadn't killed at least one person.

"Speaking of killing people," Spot started with a malicious glint in his eye, "What's it going to take to shut you up about me?"

Racetrack's expression didn't change thanks to his well-practiced poker face, but mentally he was going crazy. Was Sean actually threatening to kill him in order to make sure he never talked?

"Don't you dare!" Mush shouted out from across the parking lot before racing off towards his friend while dragging Blink behind him. "We know everything and if you do anything to Racetrack we'll tell the whole school," he threatened with both bravery and stupidity.

"Idiot," Blink muttered to Mush, but unfortunately loud enough for everyone to hear, "That's just going to make him kill us too."

Spot smirked, outwardly proclaiming confidence and control while inside he was fuming. How the hell had he been stupid enough to get himself into this mess? "Look, even if you do tell the whole school, how many people are going to believe you? There are a thousand more rumors flying around about me that are a lot more exciting," Spot explained, "I'd just like to control any and all rumors as much as I can."

"We won't tell anyone else," Race promised calmly. "We're the only friends we have. We don't even talk to anyone else."

Spot thought for a few seconds before nodding his agreement, "Alright, fine, just don't tell anyone else and there won't be a problem." After that announcement he left, hoping to get to a pay phone in order to call Slingshot before third period started.

Sean slipped into his third period class (French IV) right before the bell rang.

The teacher glared at him disapprovingly before addressing the whole class, "We will be starting a project today. I will be pairing you into groups of two and together with your assigned partner you will be researching something about France. In one month's time you are to present your project. You each will receive a grade specific to you and a grade to be shared with your partner. Your two grades will be combined to then form your final grade. This will be worth one fourth of your quarter grade, so be sure to do a good job."

Spot stared off into space as the teacher continued to drown on, going over all the things you could or couldn't do for the project. The Brooklyn gang leader sighed; it wasn't enough that he had to take another language that he would never use (why couldn't the school have offered him Russian or Italian? Those might've just helped if he ever decided that he wanted to move up to more international crimes, but no, the school had to go and sign him up to take some pussy language), but now he was probably going to be paired off with some annoying fucktard.

Sean snapped out of his thoughts when he heard his name being called.

"Sean and Kevin," the teacher announced, motioning to whomever Kevin was to get up and sit near his partner.

"Name's Swifty," a boy greeted happily as he plopped down in the no-longer-empty seat next to Sean.

Sean just grunted quietly in acknowledgement.

"So what do you want to do the project on?" Swifty asked, his smile faltering a little bit.

Sean grunted again, this time putting a little more annoyance behind it.

"What the hell's your problem?" Swifty asked, tired of pretending to be nice in order to get along. "Look, I know this probably isn't the best quarter project we could be doing, but I need this grade so it'd be great if you could at the very least cooperate."

"How's this for cooperation: 'I don't do any of the project. You want a good grade then do it yourself because I don't give a fuck'?" Spot growled in a low and quiet voice.

"So what?" Swifty asked in irritation, "You're just going to be a bastard by not helping at all? I can't believe you would do that."

Spot rolled his eyes instead of honoring the other boy with a response. What the hell made this kid think he could expect anything of him anyway? He didn't even know him.

"So now I'm just stuck with him now! And I told the teacher but she just said we'd have to get along or our partner grade would be an F, which means that even if I did get an A for my specific grade the partner grade would bring it down to a C. You know my dad won't accept C's from me and I'm struggling in the class as it is!" Swifty ranted to his best friend about what happened in his previous class.

Jack immediately tried to start to help. "Maybe if the jocks threatened him? Or you struck a deal with him?"

"Jack! That's only half the problem. When I thought we could pick our own partners I was focused on getting Mark (because he's super smart) because I can't do this project without someone who knows what they're doing. And here I'm partnered with this new kid now. I mean, I have no idea how good he is at the language and since he just transferred in he probably doesn't even know what's going on as it is!" Swifty complained.

"Wait, the new kid is your partner? Conlon?" Jack asked with disbelief. "God, I hate that guy."

"Really? What'd he do to you?" Swifty asked, feeling his curiosity rising. Jack didn't hate anyone, not really anyway. He may have thought he was above certain people or entitled to make fun of the geekier kids in school, but his relationship with them contained no hatred (on Jack's part, at least).

"He made me swear off wrestling," Jack reluctantly explained.

"You love wrestling," Swifty pointed out before correcting himself, "Well…used to love it, I guess." He leaned in and starting whispering in case Jack didn't want anyone else to hear. "How'd he convince you to do that?"

"He…made me see the more homoerotic points of it," Jack forced himself to answer, extremely thankful that Swifty had started to whisper.

Swifty snorted, resuming normal conversation, "What? You never saw the homoerotic-ness of it before? Dude, how'd you miss it? Used to that much gayness all at one time so you never noticed it before?"

Jack's heart plummeted at the fact that his best friend would not be defending the sport that he used to love to participate in so much. "I'm not the one wearing a pink shirt!" he hissed.

"I'm not the one who noticed I was wearing a pink shirt!" Swifty growled out to defend himself.

"Don't give me that bullshit! You knew exactly what you were wearing today!" Jack declared, his voice rising as both he and Swifty unknowingly gained more and more of the class's attention.

"And yet I'm still not the one who rolled on the floor fucking other guys," Swift pointed out just as loudly.

"I don't do that anymore!" Jack shouted, jumping from his chair to glare down at his now-ex-friend.

"Right, but you would in a heartbeat if you hadn't realized how gay it is!" Swifty accused.

"It's a sport! Sports can't be gay!" Jack declared as if it were a rule.

"What? That's complete bullshit! In both baseball and football you wear tight pants and people smack your ass! In swimming all the guys wear fucking Speedos! In basketball everyone wears short-shorts! In-"

"Boys!" the teacher exclaimed, having heard enough, "This is a current events class; a time to discuss current events. This is not the time to be debating about…about homoerotic sports!"

"Sports aren't homoerotic!" Jack burst out at the same time as Swifty defended their debate with, "Jack turning gay is a current event."

"I'm not gay!" Jack claimed, turning back to Swifty from where he was facing the teacher.

"Boys! Both of you go to the office immediately and explain this…this…situation!" the teacher cried, shooing them out of the room before quickly restarting class.

"I guess I kind of got a little carried away," Jack declared, coming as close to an apology as he ever would whilst he traveled to the principal's office with the other boy.

Swifty scoffed before grinning, "Dude, don't even think about it. It's completely cool, just stop acting like a chick."

Jack nodded his head in acceptance of the rule as he flashed a grin of his own and accompanied his friend to the office where punishment would no doubt await them.

Spot scanned the lunchroom reluctantly as the same thought spun around in his head. Just sit with David for forty-five minutes and you'll have fifty more bucks in your pocket. It's easy, just don't punch anyone and everything will run smoothly.

It actually wasn't very hard finding the annoying guy and his friend, especially since said friend was bringing quite a bit of attention to himself by standing up and waving his arms over his head like a maniac.

Sean rolled his eyes as he walked over to the two. This was going to be a long-ass, mother-fucking lunch.

"Sean," Specs greeted happily as the other boy came over. He sat down in one of the cafeteria chairs and turned to the annoying kid. "Look Davey, it's the new kid."

Sean narrowed his eyes, not at all liking the fact that the annoying kid's friend had referred to him as 'the new kid', but deciding that saying anything would most likely result in a fistfight. Then of course if a fight were to occur chances were he wouldn't be getting the other half of the money. Going with the wisest choice that occurred to him he sat down, nodding his head in acknowledgement of the annoying kid and his friend.

"Aren't you going to eat anything?" David asked, noticing that Sean didn't have any food with him. "I can loan you some money if you don't have any," he offered nicely.

Sean shot a glance at the annoying kid's friend, making sure he caught the gaze. "I should be okay on money for awhile," he replied confidently.

"Do you just not know what to buy?" David pressed, "I know all the food looks really gross, but if you know what to get it's not as bad as it first appears."

"I'm not hungry," Sean insisted, growing a bit annoyed. He didn't eat cafeteria food; it was one of the few rules he actually followed and obeyed. The plastic badly disguised as food didn't appeal to him, no matter how much someone tried to insist he wouldn't be nauseous after eating it.

"You should really eat," Specs suggested, catching the new kid's eye and silently threatening not to pay him. You have to at least be nice, otherwise it's definitely not worth all that money, he mentally explained to the other boy.

"I'm really not hungry," Sean repeated, this time glancing at the annoying kid's friend. He turned to the annoying kid. "Thanks though," he forced himself to say.

"Oh, it's really not a big deal," David replied, happy that the new kid seemed to be opening up to him (if only a little). "I'll be happy to help you with anything; you just have to ask."

Sean nodded his head in acceptance before looking at the clock. He cursed silently to himself; it had only been six minutes. How was he going to be able to sit there being nice for the remaining amount of lunch?

Fortunately from the other side of the room four boys were looking over at him and quietly planning his rescue.

"Let's just go over there and sit down," Bumlets finally suggested after many elaborate ideas had been voiced. "I'm sure David and Specs will walk away if they think people might talk about them hanging out with druggies."

"Yeah? And we go over there under what pretense?" Skittery asked, ready to knock down yet another idea.

"We use the very real excuse that he's our friend," Bumlets answered defiantly. "David saw him sitting with us on Friday, so it's not like it isn't believable."

"Alright," Itey agreed, knowing that if he accepted the plan then Skitts would as well. "Let's do it then."

Back at David's table Sean was truly contemplating shoving forks into his eardrums.

"So where did you to go to school before coming here?" David asked, continuing with asking him questions that he didn't have any right to know the answers to.

'Which one?" Sean snapped, avoiding the direct question as much as he could.

"The one you went to right before you transferred here," David answered with a little confusion in his voice, not at all registering the fact that Sean was growing more annoyed by the minute.

"Sean," Dutchy greeted happily, interrupting the conversation as he took a seat to the left of Spot.

"Yo man," Bumlets said in his usual monotonous voice, sitting next to Specs on the other side of the table.

Skittery remained silent as he, too, sat down, his seat being next to Dutchy.

"We're going to all hang out later tonight. You want to come with us?" Itey asked Sean as he sat across from Skitts and next to Bumlets.

Sean shrugged, "Yeah, maybe."

David looked around, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable with sitting with his old friends. "I just remembered, I have this test sixth period I should be studying for." He looked towards Sean, "Do you know where the library is? I'll be in there if you need anything from me."

Sean nodded, giving both his answer to the question and the consent that David could leave the table and he wouldn't feel abandoned.

David was halfway across the cafeteria before Specs realized that sitting with druggies was something that he wanted to avoid. "Wait Davey!" He called out before turning to the others. "I should probably go help him," he explained before scurrying off.

Itey burst out laughing, "I told you people practically ran away from us."

"You weren't having a good time were you?" Bumlets asked when he saw the blank look on their new friend's face. "You can go meet them in the library if you want to. We thought you looked annoyed, but if you weren't…"

Sean in fact did have a blank look on his face, but not because he was angry. Actually he was quite happy. The problem was that he wasn't used to being happy and therefore he didn't exactly know what to do with himself. His chest was swelling and he felt like he had to do something to make it go away.

"You okay?" Dutchy asked, looking over to his right at Sean when he noticed the blank look as well.

Finally deciding on what to do he leaned over and kissed Dutchy roughly on the cheek. He smirked as the swelling abated some.

Dutchy sat in disbelief for the rest of fifth period. Luckily his friends knew exactly why and Spot just didn't care, so no one asked him what his problem was.

"I thought you were cutting lunch," Sean remarked.

"We decided not to," Itey answered in a shrug.

"You should be happy we changed our plans, otherwise we couldn't have saved you byt scaring off the annoying nerds," Skittery put in.

David sat in his French class trying to listen attentively. Unfortunately (for some reason or another) he wasn't the biggest language expert around. Actually, French was his only academic class that wasn't an honors course.

Now, of course David wasn't doing badly in French, he just didn't get it like he got his other classes. Sure, he'd tried to receive the grades to be bumped up to Honors French IV (he'd even managed to do it once before), but he couldn't ever maintain the grade.

He continued to try, however, and he spent many nights staying up studying the foreign language in the hopes that someday he'd be able to get it as easily as he got everything else.

David perked up and mentally shook himself out of his head when the teacher began to explain a new project. They were to partner with someone and do a project revolving around some aspect of French life. It sounded interesting enough; David just hoped that the partner the teacher chose for him would be as enthusiastic as he was.

"David Jacobs," the teacher announced when calling out partners, "You're paired with Jack Kelly."

David's eyes visibly widened. Jack Kelly? The Jack Kelly who was quarter back of the football team? The Jack Kelly who he used to be friends with just a few years ago? The Jack Kelly who always laughed when Masson pushed him in the halls?

He'd rather take an F!

From across the room Jack Kelly was having a similar mental fit.

David Jacobs? The David Jacobs who was president of the science club? The David Jacobs he used to be friends with just a few years ago? The David Jacobs who shot him dirty looks when Masson pushed him in the halls and Jack didn't do anything to stop him?

He'd rather take an F!

But an F would mean no more sports for a while, his brain pointed out not even a second later.

But an F would mean no more academic clubs for a while, David's brain pointed out only milliseconds after Jack.

God damn it both boys mentally yelled at the exact same time.

Spot walked into his seventh period art class fifty bucks richer. He had somehow managed to convince Specs that it was them that walked away, not him. Therefore, it was their fault that they had passed up the chance to spend lunch with him, and he shouldn't have to give away fifty dollars because his 'friends' came over.

He sat down in his normal seat noticing that no one else seemed to be in the same place as yesterday. He quickly assumed that this teacher was laid back, letting students sit wherever they wanted whenever they wanted. After that thought passed he quickly hoped that a fucktard didn't sit next to him and hastily moved so that on his left was a wall, narrowing down the chances of sitting by a fucktard by half.

Blink ran into the classroom just in time for the bell to ring. Unfortunately the only empty seat was by Sean, Brooklyn's gang leader, and Race's most recent crush (even though Race would never admit it). "Hey," Blink greeted him shyly before explaining his presence, "All the other seats are full."

Sean looked around, right away noticing that this appeared true enough. He nodded his head in consent to the other boy's silent plea to sit down before turning back to the front of the class. At least Blink wasn't a complete fucktard.

…

Twenty-five minutes into class and Blink was as bored as shit. They had to do a test over what they had learned so far, and because of that they weren't starting on another project today. The test was beyond easy and now he had absolutely nothing to do for the next third of an hour.

He turned to the boy next to him and decided to disregard any fear he had for the Brooklyn gang leader in favor of getting rid of his immense boredom. "So…what's up?"

Sean glanced over at him before turning back to the front of the room and flipping him off.

"Look, there's nothing to do and I'm really bored," Blink explained honestly. "When class gets out and I have someone else to talk to I'll go back to fearing you," he promised.

"Fine," Sean agreed, being bored as well, "What am I being forced to talk about?"

Blink shrugged, "I don't know…uh…how was your last school?"

"Tedious," Sean answered uncaringly.

Blink mentally sighed. It was just his luck that Sean wouldn't put any work into keeping up a conversation. He really should have seen it coming. "Okay…what kind of music do you like?"

"The good kind," Sean answered, looking at the other student as if he was stupid.

"Okay fine," Blink said in resignation. "What'll you talk about for more than five seconds? You pick what the topic should be about. What do you want to talk about? Television? Girls? …Guys?" he asked, voicing the last question with reluctance. But if he could find out if Sean was gay or not that would help Racetrack out a lot. Of course Race was already certain Sean was a hetero, but Blink was quite in tune with the saying 'appearances can be deceiving'.

Sean smirked, "Are you trying to ask me if I'm a fag or not?"

Blink mentally winced at the word 'fag', not liking its appearance into the conversation at all. Sean had smirked, so obviously he must not have minded being asked his orientation, but at the same time not many homosexuals would call themselves fags. Well, he was generalizing; really it should be rephrased as 'not many of the homosexuals that he knew called themselves fags'. In other words, Sean could be an exception. "Yeah, I guess so," he admitted after he jerked himself out of his long but quick train of thought.

"Does it matter?" Sean asked with his smirk still in place.

Okay, now he was being defensive. And that could mean Sean was a gay that didn't want other people to know he was into boys. In his experience Blink saw stalling as a good sign that someone was gay, so he pressed on with a little bit more hope. "I was just curious. So, what's your orientation?"

"No one asks that question because they're just curious," Sean claimed, ignoring the other boy's repeated question. "And because I know I don't act like a stereotypical fag and no one really has any reason to think I am most people would just assume I'm straight. But you didn't because you want me to be gay, and you're just asking to make sure I'm straight and thus crushing the last little bit of hope you're holding onto."

"Why would I care if you're gay or straight?" Blink asked, noticing that Sean was a little to close to the truth and wanting to throw him off. Unfortunately, throwing people off wasn't one of his best talents.

Spot smirked a little harder; "You or one of your friends has a fag-crush on me. Judging from the look on your face I'm right."

"None of my friends have a crush on you, that's ridiculous," Blink declared; his heart sinking as he realized Sean quite obviously held all of the cards and had somehow stolen all the control while he hadn't been paying attention.

"And since you immediately defended your friends and not yourself it must be one of them," Sean continued. "And judging from how you're acting I'm right again."

"No!" Blink burst out, trying to rack his brain for something to prove that none of his friends had a crush on the gang leader.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, however you want to look at it) the bell rang and ended their conversation.

"Tell them I'm not interested," Sean demanded before grabbing the notebook he came in with and walking off to his next class.

Itey walked into his eighth period, psychology class. It was one of those fake classes where no one did anything remotely related to schoolwork. Which was, quite obviously, why Itey and all his friends took it in the first place.

"Over here babe!" Skitts shouted out to Itey.

Bumlets rolled his eyes from where he sat next to Skittery; it was quite obvious to anyone who knew them that the two only called each other pet names to gross other people out.

"I missed you so much during my American Studies class," Itey pouted, going over to his fuck buddy and straddling him so that they were face to face. "Seventh period just isn't the same without you."

Bumlets snorted when he noticed people were turning away after rolling their eyes. Everyone was so convinced that Itey and Skittery only acted like they liked each other to piss everyone off that they could be fucking one another in the halls and the most people would do would be to tell them to 'grow up'. It was quite comical just because the student body was so right and so wrong at the same time. Yes, they displayed their affection to piss everyone off, but it was also quite apparent they were in love.

"Would you two quit acting like fags so we can deal with my problem?" Dutchy asked with irritation in his voice but a smile on his face.

"What problem?" Itey asked, craning his neck around so that he could look at the other boy.

"Sean kissed me," Dutchy stated quietly so that none of the other students overheard (it was futile, seeing as how no one was listening to them or paying them any mind anymore; Itey and Skittery had taken care of that).

"Isn't that more of a cause for celebration than a problem?" Bumlets asked, "Maybe I can't see it because I'm not gay but I think he's pretty hot. Am I wrong?"

"Definitely not wrong," Dutchy answered with a smile on his face.

"And good for you for embracing your inner gay," Skitts mock congratulated Bumlets.

"But then what's the problem?" Bumlets asked while flipping Skitttery off.

"The kiss was amazing!" Dutchy gushed. "But now I'm even more confused. Is he gay or straight? He acts straight, but he had no problem kissing me. Then again, I'm sure plenty of straight guys have kissed other guys thinking they were straight when really they were gay, right?"

"Just try to start making out with him and see what happens," Skittery suggested.

"That won't work, stop trying to fuck me over," Dutchy commanded. "This is a serious problem."

"That's a serious solution," Itey argued, coming to Skittery's defense. "That's how we got together, anyway."

"God, I knew coming to you guys for help was a bad idea," Dutchy growled.

"But we're the only friends you have," Itey began.

"…so you're stuck with us," Skittery finished.

"So you got paired up with Jack, big deal," Specs grumbled as he stood next to David's car.

"It is a big deal," David argued. "How am I supposed to act around him, uh? Am I supposed to fall into my geekdom and write the report myself? Am I supposed to remember that he was once my friend or are we just going to ignore that part of history? Is he going to be an ass even though Masson isn't going to be around? How am I supposed to deal with this?"

"Just…do it, I don't know. Look, all you have to do is follow his lead, all right? If he acts like Mr. Jock, the superstar, you act like Mr. Science, the geek. If he acts like Cowboy, you act like the Walking Mouth. It's a pretty simple strategy," Specs directed.

"I don't know Specs," David sighed, leanly against his car, "High school is so much harder than it should be."

"Just go with it, Davey," Specs commanded, "Riding the wind will give you a much smoother trip than if you try to go against it."

"I think you've been reading too many fortune cookies," David grumbled before sliding into the driver's seat of his car.

"I can't help that I like Chinese food," Specs defended before sitting next to his friend in the passenger seat. "And fortune cookies have to be the best food ever invented."