I'm sitting on Josh's desk again, but this time, his side is pressed against my leg. I'm a little embarrassed, I admit. But I just smile at him. This is the first time we've seen each other all day. He got here almost late and Miss Walker dived right into her lecture. Luckily, she left a few minutes ago and is outside the class taking on her phone so we can talk. During lunch, I had detention for being snarky to a teacher. He was an English teacher and didn't get that when Hamlet called Polonius a fishmonger, he was calling him a pimp and Ophelia a whore. Lost all kinds of subtleties when he missed that. Of course, I didn't need to call him a fishmonger. Ah well. It had been worth it.

But I didn't get to see Josh until this class and this is the first time we've gotten to talk. Not that we're really… together. I think that flash of pure lust last night may have been the exhaustion, or hormones, or the full moon. But, he is hot. All muscley and stuff because of the kickboxing.

"Hey, can I go to the gym with you after school?"

He shrugs and nods.

Cris stands up and wanders over to Drew's desk. He is once again, all dragged up. It's kinda sexy, but I value my skin more than a pair of over muscled bare legs. Actually, now that I think about it, Josh's body type is more what I like. I glance at him, ignoring the fact that his eyes are once again on Cris. I know he's muscular because he's shirtless all the damn time, but the hoodie he's wearing hides that pretty much completely. He's lean. I dig that.

I nudge him when I judge he's stared at Cris's body-baring outfit long enough. Don't want to get into more trouble like yesterday.

He looks up at me warily. "You aren't going to get all jealous and do the whole boyfriend shtick, are you?"

I grin. "Naw. Just don't want you to get decked."

"Oh."

There's a long moment of awkward silence in which I debate whether or not to pull out my Die-ary.

"Why are we going out?"

I snort. Really Josh? Ouch. He has a point though. "If I'm going to get picked on for being gay, I want the fun parts too?" Yeah, I made it a question. I don't want to get pummeled for being a pervert. Even if I sorta am.

He blinks at me, red tinting his golden cheeks. Ooh yeah. Still got it. Ka-pow. Okay, not really. Josh is just easily embarrassed by the gay stuff.

"You mean like-"

"Oh my, are you two together now?"

We both turn and stare at Cris and Drew, Josh a little wide-eyed.

Ah hell, I'm pretty sure I was about to be slapped. No need to embarrass Josh if I was about to get snapped. I shoot back, "Oh my, are you two together now?"

Cris brushes it off. "We're not faggots like you."

"Uh, dude," I say, raising my eyebrows. "Hate to break it to ya, but we aren't bundles of sticks either."

He blinks at me.

"Faggots are bundle of sticks. That is the literal definition." Dammit, people need to be better educated. "Oh," I add, "and fag is British slang for cigarettes. Just, you know, heads up."

He glares. "Fine, homo. That better?"

I shrug. "More accurate, yeah."

He rolls his eyes as Drew circles to the other side. "So you two faggots together now?"

When the hell did this become National Pick on the Gay Boys Week? Usually the football team has better things to do than bug us.

"No, once again, 'faggots' means-"

"Mister Pierce, language!"

What the hell? Again?

We all turn towards the front. Miss Walker is there again, glaring at us. The rest of the class is silent. Again.

"You will use no such language in my class."

I raise my arms. I am so not getting busted for being homophobic. "Dude, they started it. I was correcting their misuse of the word."

"I am not a dude. And you will not use words like that in my class."

"Faggots equals bundles of sticks," I say slowly and clearly. "They used it wrong, I am correcting them."

She switches her glare to Drew and Cris who are standing above us and looming threateningly. Well, looming over Josh; I'm sitting on the desk and thusly can't be loomed over threateningly or otherwise. But they're trying. It would work better if Cris wasn't wearing a furry purple jacket and clip on feather earrings.

"Is that true?"

Heh. I'm not defending them this time. They can't be expelled for calling us faggots. The school says they have zero tolerance but that's bullshit. They have a tolerance level of, like, fifteen. Out of what, I don't know, but that's the arbitrary number I'm assigning. Of course, Miss Walker might have a lower tolerance number; she's the president of the GSA and is kinda badass. Tolerance off seven maybe? Seven is a good number. Don't three sevens win a jackpot in Vegas? I want to go to Vegas. Too bad I'm not twenty-one. I bet my parents would take me out drinking for my twenty first birthday. Probably to a tranny bar. And I'll probably be in full drag. Ooh, I think I would be cool with a FtM one. They actually have-

"No, ma'am."

Right. Stuff is happening. Not that it really concerns me. I'm out of trouble. I dunno how I ever was in trouble. It's not like bloody everyone doesn't know I'm a total fag. Uh, homo, not fag. Whoops. If I'm going to demean everyone else, I should be better than them, right? New goal of the day: be perfect.

"Mister Pierce, did he call you a faggot?"

"What?"

Whoops, goal failed. I should probably be paying attention to this…

Walker repeats her question and I sigh internally. It is a big and gusty and emo internal sigh. Shit. Why do I keep covering for this guy? Ah well. "Nah, he wasn't calling me a fag. Just using it in general."

Cris nods quickly, elbowing Drew when the boy scowls. What kind of idiot looks a gift horse like this in the mouth? Jeesh, it's a possible way to get out of detention. Drew is an idiot. Cris, at least, seems to understand the situation.

She glares at them disapprovingly. "Fine. But I do not want to hear any more demeaning words against anyone, do I make myself clear?"

"Aw, so does that mean I can't call Cris and Drew breeders?"

Oh shit. Word vomit. Where the fuck is my filter? It's a lie! The brain to mouth filter is a lie! Like the cake.

"Shut the fuck up, you fudgepacker."

Lol, Cris doesn't have a filter either. But fudgepacker? What the hell does that mean? Could it be- Oh. Ew. Shit, that's grody.

"Asshole," I mutter too softly for Miss Walker to hear. Cris heard though.

"Bitch!"

Ooh, he just shouted. He's glaring at me. He looks pissed. The world is just gone for him right now. Ooh, I bet I can make this situation just explode.

I smirk at him. "Only if you ask nicely," I say breathlessly, licking my lips.

He stares at me for a moment, confusion warring with anger. And then he finally gets it. His olive skin reddens and his eyes narrow. His fingers curl into a fist and everything slows down as he swings. I know I should be doing something, but I can't seem to move. I have just enough time to think 'shield that' before the punch connects.

"Holy mother of God!" I clutch at my cheek and fall off the table, stumbling backwards. There are stars dancing in front of my eyes, overlaying the swaying room. "Sweet Tidy Bowl Jesus skipping on blue toilet water, what the fuck was that for?" As if I didn't know. It was my fault; I antagonized him. I should have spent more points on dexterity. Where the fuck's the undo button when you need it? Because, FUCK! It feels like I was just falcon punched. I should be, like, on fire right now, right? Physics and all that? My clothes are flammable at least... I wonder if the flames would be falcon shaped... And oh shit, I'm still reeling. I think I might fall down now. Ow, my face hurts.

Josh's arm is suddenly around my waist and he's steadying me, pushing me so my back is against the wall. I clutch gratefully at the white painted brick.

"Sanchez!"

Ooh, Walker dropped the 'Mister'. He's in trouble now. Asshole. I look up and stars are no longer winking at me and the world is standing still. Way less interesting, but way better for my health. Cris is frozen.

The bell rings and no one moves. Ooh, we must be really interesting to keep a bunch of teenagers in their seats after the bell. Especially because this is the last class of the day.

"Sweet Tidy Bowl Jesus skipping on blue toilet water?" Josh mutters softly.

I wince instead of going off on one of my usual tangents. Really, this is not the time. "Christopher Moore, A Dirty Job. Read more."

Josh doesn't reply, freezing as Miss Walker's flinty eyes turn to us.

"Everybody out," Miss Walker says. Her voice is quiet. Oh dear Zeus, we're all gonna die.

Josh stands, grabbing my elbow and begins to drag me out before the rest of the class even stands. Cris and Drew are hurrying to follow us out of the class and harm's way. We can't do anything, and even if we could, it's probably nothing compare to what Miss Walker will.

"Not you four."

Shit.