Boston Garden High School

Brad shuffled into work the next morning on crutches. He won his fight but re-sprained his ankle pretty badly. He got a lot of stares from some of the students as he made his way to the staff lounge. Patrice walked next to him carrying his satchel.
"Should you even be at work today?" Patrice asked.
"Bergy, I've got a sprained ankle, I'm not an invalid."
"Uh, Marchy, you kinda are. I mean, look at you. You're on crutches." Brad paused and turned to glare at Patrice.
"I could walk it off." He said matter-of-factly.
"Yeah? Try it."
"I will. Hold my crutches." Brad said thrusting his crutches into Patrice's already full arms. Patrice raised an eyebrow as be watched Brad stroll down the hall, pretending that his ankle wasn't hurting him. Brad then began to walk backwards. "See, Bergy. Told you I could do it."
"I didn't doubt you, Marchy. It's just that if you don't use your ankle, it'll heal faster and the faster it heals, the faster you can get back to fighting."
"Whatever. Crutches are for wimps and people with broken legs." Brad turned to face forward again and Bergy's eyes widened.
"Marchy, look out for the...!" He shouted as Brad walked into the door to the faculty lounge which slammed open on him, knocking him down to the ground. "Door." Patrice dropped what he was holding and went over to his friend who was sitting, dazed on the floor.
"Shit, Bergy, is he okay?" Tuukka asked helping Brad off the floor.
"Well he SHOULD be on crutches..."
"Why isn't he? Why did he just walk into the door as I was opening it?" Tuukka asked Patrice.
"I don't know, Tuke, you'll have to ask him."
"How many fingers am I holding up?" He asked Brad, holding up his middle and index fingers in Brad's face.
"Two. Now get off me, I have to get to class." Brad said pushing Tuukka away from himself. "Patrice, crutches." Brad said. Patrice grabbed Brad's crutches from the floor and handed them to him. "Satchel." Patrice handed Brad his satchel and he limped away carrying them.
"'S he gonna be okay?" Tuukka asked, rubbing the back of his neck.
"I dunno. He's all about his independence, but it's not like he's... Paralyzed from the neck down or whatever. It's five days on crutches."
"Has he never been on crutches before?" Tuukka asked.
"He used to play soccer and hockey as a kid and now he's an MMA fighter... I'm sure he must've." Patrice shook his head as he swung his backpack over his shoulders.
"Jeez." Tuukka ran a hand through his hair.
"I know for sure he's been concussed and had his nose broken and... Every other injury where you see him come in with stitches and bandages. I've never really seen him on crutches before."
"Thinking about it, neither have I." Tuukka mused. "You think he'll be okay ?"
"He's Brad Marchand. Of COURSE he'll be okay." Patrice lowered his head. "Probably."
"What?"
"Nothing, Tuke." Patrice shook his head. "So... What are you doing to Krech?"
"You heard about that?"
"I think everyone's heard about it but Krech."
"Good plan or not?"
"You might wanna talk to Barty, Jordan, Soupy and Dan about that one."
"What? Why?"
"Uh..." Patrice grinned to himself.
"Bergy..." Tuukka said sternly.
"Ask them." Patrice walked away with a big smile on his face. He turned the corner and entered the faculty lounge.
"Hey! Bergy!" David shouted. "Did you hear about Quaider's girlfriend?"
"What are you talking about, Krech?" Patrice asked as he sat down next to David.
"She's gonna be on Extreme Couponing!" David said excitedly.
Patrice rolled his eyes. "Of COURSE you'd know that." He said sarcastically. Everyone at the high school knew of David's penchant for watching trash TV. His current favorites were Extreme Couponing, Teen Mom, Catfished, Breaking Amish, Duck Dynasty and Here Comes Honey Boo Boo.
"I don't know because I watch it.."
"Which we all know you do."
"... I know because Quaider told me."
"But you'll be watching it while we're all gonna be watching the Red Sox or the Celtics."
"Maybe not." David said. "Quaider will probably be watching it too. And who knows? Maybe a Pats game will be on." He shrugged while Patrice rolled his eyes. "I got a weird friend request on Facebook a few nights ago, from that girl I shacked up with in the faculty lounge." David said, changing the subject.
"Oh? I didn't hear about that." Patrice said, interested.
"Yeah. She's really into RuPaul's Drag Race." David's shoulders fall in disappointment. "Why would a woman be that interested in drag queens? I mean, it just doesn't make any..." All the air escaped from David's lungs as his eyes widened in realization. "Sense." He mutters. He quickly turned to Patrice. "Holy shit, Bergy! Please don't tell me I banged a... A... A transvestite!" He shouted all over the faculty lounge. David gets up from his seat quickly and runs out the lounge shouting.

On the other side of the room, Bartkowski, Jordan, Daniel and Greg all exchanged glances and hi-fived one another.
"Took him long enough." Jordan muttered
"Yeah, I thought he would have got it by now, too." Daniel shrugged.
"Hey, Soupy, what do you make of this?"
"I had him down for next week, remember, Barty?"
"Thinking about it, yeah." Bartkowski shakes his head. "What next then?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Greg reshuffled his position so as to get a better view of his friends. "We milk this shit until the cows come home. And when he agrees to meet... We all show up and tell him it's a prank."
"Genius." Daniel smirked.
"No!" Jordan barked. "I say we DON'T do that!"
"What do we do then, Jordy? Tell him right here, right now?" Daniel asked.
"No. We have deep conversations with him, make him fall in love. Then we arrange to meet up with him and then flake out so many times-giving unscrupulous reasons-and let him call the Catfish people. And THEN he finds out that it's us."
"I prefer Jordan's plan." Greg said almost immediately.
"Then we go with Plan Jordan. Unless Plan Greg happens first. Y'know?" Bartkowski said with a shrug. The four young men smirked and put their hands on top of one another's.
"We're gonna get him good, guys." Daniel said with a wicked grin on his face as they threw their hands up into the air. "We're gonna get him good."