Stereotype

Biology was on the first period; the first two periods, to be more exact. Not an ideal situation when you'd fallen asleep later than usual and woken up half an hour earlier freaking out about a lesson. The two aspirins Frank had taken with breakfast had only partially gotten rid of his headache, and he could feel its imminent comeback at full force thanks to Benny. The kid, who sat next to Frank, wouldn't stop drumming his fingers on the beige formica of his desk as he stared out of the window absentmindedly.

"Benny! Stop that!" Frank whispered harshly, but the boy didn't even seem to notice him.

Truth be told, Benny rarely noticed or connected with anyone. He acted indifferent to everything surrounding him, which was probably why he'd had no problem sitting with Frank when no one else would. No matter what you told Benny, he usually just shrugged, smiled and said something like, "Yeah whatever, dude." He was actually nice when you managed to have a conversation with him, but that rarely happened.

After minutes and minutes of the brain-puncturing noise, Mrs. Dennison got apparently fed up with it too. She looked up from her text-book and glared at the annoying student before shouting, "Benjamin!" When the boy jumped on his seat she added, "Will you stop that noise already, or do I have to send you out?"

The addressed one flinched and blushed, his black fringe hiding his eyes. Frank guessed it was more due to his full name being screamed out than the reprimand.

"Uh. Sorry," Benny said quickly. "I'm a drummer so it's just a habit, didn't realize I was doing it."

The apology didn't impress the teacher. "Well, this is no concert. And since you seem so bored, you'll be the first to speak to the class about the assigned lesson."

"Ouch," was all Benny had to say as he got up with his head hung low.

The boy seemed to have studied, but oral lessons weren't his forte; Frank could barely hear what he was mumbling. Mrs. Dennison got tired quickly and told Benny to go sit with a "Fine, that's enough."

As the teacher kept calling names and more students walked to the front of the class to speak about the subject and show their diagrams, Frank took notice of Zach across from him. He looked tired and pallid, the injures from the day before sticking out in a sickly purple tone.

Frank felt a pang of sympathy and talked to the boy in a hushed voice. "Hey Zach, you okay?"

"Perfect," the other responded with more weariness than irony.

"Will you tell me what's really going on with your brothers and those assholes?" Frank pressed.

Zach didn't reply, he just continued to stare blankly at the white-board.

"Zach?"

"Iero! Phillips!" Mrs. Dennison exclaimed all of a sudden. "Show more respect for your classmates!"

"Sorry," Frank muttered.

Not a sound came from Zach. Frank thought it was because he was mad at him for getting him in trouble, but then he saw the evil smile the teacher was giving the boy. Evil. That woman enjoyed making students squirm in fear.

"Since I already have your attention, Phillips...your turn." She smiled even wider.

One glance at Zach's terrified face was enough for Frank to know the other hadn't studied at all. Thinking fast, he raised his hand, waving it slightly. "Mrs. Dennison?"

"Yes, Iero?"

"Zach doesn't feel well. That's what we were talking about," Frank lied.

"Silence!" the teacher appeased the chorus of murmurs and giggles -and usual occurrence every time Frank spoke in class, then frowned at Zach. "Why didn't you tell me, Phillips?"

"He was afraid you'd think it was an excuse, ma'am," Frank answered for him.

"Well, he does look sick..." the blond woman opined. "And hurt. Do you need to go see the nurse, kid?"

Zach shook his head slowly. "Can I just close my eyes here for a while?"

The evil teacher's features had softened now. "Yes, of course. But have the lesson ready for next class."

Frank looked at his watch. They were already in the middle of the second period. He was prepared for the lesson and didn't want to have to wait until next class if they ran out of time in this one. Especially since the next class was after Winter break. The woman would probably drink all the eggnog and forget.

He raised his hand once again. "Mrs. Dennison, can I be next?"

The teacher sighed tediously. "I have no doubt that you know the lesson, Iero. But, if you wish..."

"I do!" he replied happily, grabbing the poster with the diagram Ray had drawn for him in a hurry before school. 

That morning, Frank had woken up his poor brother to the scream of  "Differences in the basic structure of plant and animal cells! The fucking diagram! I forgot the fucking diagram, Ray! How could I?!" Ray had looked murderous at first, but upon seeing Frank's desperation he had veered him towards the door and said, "Go get ready, I'll do your damn diagram." Frank didn't like the idea of Ray being late to school because of him, but the older had assured him that he couldn't care less. Ray was a great brother when he wanted to.

As Frank walked to the front of the class, the laughter resumed. Without bothering to turn around, he flexed his free arm behind his back and gave them all a wiggly middle finger.

******

No matter how hard he tried, Gerard just couldn't pay attention to whatever book the English teacher was reading a passage from. His head had been somewhere else since first period, when he bumped into the football coach in the halls. Gerard still didn't know how to feel about the news he had been given; he was only certain that his dad would love it.

Something different was distracting him now, though.

While Mrs. Reid paced up and down the space between the white-board and the students' desks, Gerard's eyes were turned towards the back of the classroom. There, at one of the desks from the last line, sat Brandon. The guy wasn't looking at the teacher either. He seemed lost in though, elbows on the table and hands supporting his head. 

There was something going on with the Phillips. Gerard was sure that they were hiding something and he was determined to find out what it was. He usually wouldn't poke about other people's private matters, but he had a hunch. What the Phillips hid could be helpful for his and Frank's cause.

With very slow movements as to not alert the teacher, Gerard ripped a sheet of paper off his notebook and wrote a message on it: "Come on, tell me what's up with you guys and Matt? I know there's something else, you acted weird yesterday with Frank."
 
Next, he tapped James on the shoulder. Dewees was either very fascinated by what Mrs. Reid was reading, or totally immersed in his intergalactic fantasies. Either way, it took Gerard a while to get him to react.

"You're good with flying objects...could you make a plane with this and aim it to Brandon?" Gerard whispered.

James looked as happy as if he had been entrusted with building an actual spaceship. "Of course, G-man!"

"Speak lower!"

"Silence, boys!" Mrs. Reid exclaimed; but she continued to read without dwelling on the interruption.

James' hands worked fast, and he had the paper plane done in less than a minute. Checking to ensure the teacher was facing the opposite side of the room at the moment, he closed one eye, took aim and released the missile. Gerard watched in awe as the plane flew across the room in an impeccable manner and hit the side of Brandon's head, falling on his desk.

Brandon didn't even scan the room for the offender. He directed his scowl to James without hesitation. Gerard took the chance to sign to Brandon to unfold the piece of paper.

Unsure, Brandon did as instructed, rubbing his forehead as he read the message. He didn't seem happy, but Gerard could see him write something on the other side of the paper. He just hoped it wasn't a "Fuck you".

Using the marks from where it had been folded before, it was no problem for Brandon to turn the paper into a plane again. He, however, didn't have James' skills to launch it. The plane plummeted to the floor before reaching its destination. Brandon grunted loudly, which made the teacher turn around. It was James who saved the moment by sprinting off his chair and picking up the plane before the old woman could see what it was.

"I'm sorry. It flied off my desk," he told Mrs. Reid, showing her a rubber instead.

"You should stop flying during my classes, Mr. Dewees," she retorted.

"I was listening!" James argued; but the teacher had once again gone back to reading.

Gerard now thought it was maybe a whole book she was reading and not just a passage, judging by how long it was taking her. He still had no idea what it was about, though. Or the name. Or the author. He honestly didn't care at the moment. 

He took the paper plane from where James had left it under his desk and unfolded it. The block letters on it looked angry, but Brandon had thankfully not cursed him. It said,  "Ok, stay here after the class, I'll text Adam."