Important Note: Firecrackers in the Teachers Lounge has been a very lighthearted, goofy piece, and it absolutely will maintain that light atmosphere that you have come back for throughout the rest of its chapters. However, we must brave this much darker, serious chapter together. Please be patient with me, dearest reader! I promise there is a light at the end of this tunnel.

Chapter 5:
One One-Thousand, Two One-Thousand

There isn't a single ray of sun in the sky the following Wednesday. Monday and Tuesday had been sunny and brisk, but not without consequence. The clouds are closing in and it has begun to drizzle. My brother throws an umbrella at my head as I rush out the door, struggling to fix my uniform.

"Thanks, jerk," I mutter as I zip up the front of my jacket. I accidentally zip my finger in the process and immediately bring my finger to my lips out of reflex.

Lukas smirks as he follows and reaches for the door behind me. "Be careful out there. The weather doesn't look so good, and you're still scared of lightning after all these years, aren't you?" The door fully shuts behind me before I have a chance to mutter, 'Absolutely not!'

...Which would be a blatant lie. The second the lightning begins, I'll be rattling in my own bones. I'd better sprint through this rain if I don't want to get caught up in a nasty thunderstorm.

It's hard to believe it's been nearly a week since I started serving detention for the fight with Leon. Of course, he's serving detention time, too. On most days, the teachers selected for duty could not care less whether we "detainees" (or so I like to refer to us as) sit around and stare at the front of the room for an hour and a half. Other teachers prefer to put us to work with tasks such as cleaning the floors on our hands and knees, or reading German poetry aloud, despite none of us speaking a lick of German.

...I'm looking at you, Mr. Beilschmidt.

I wonder what miserable fate Leon and I will suffer in detention today?
I guess I'll find out once I actually make it to school in one piece.

Splish splash, splish splash...

As I walk along the muddied roads, I find myself wishing Lukas had thrown an extra pair of rain boots at me this morning, as well. The rainwater seeps through my worn leather boots with each step, squishing water all the way up to my ankles at certain points of my route to school. To make matters even worse, the air grew cold as ice, and as if a curse from the gods, hail started to fall like a volley of razor-sharp arrows. I screamed (a very manly scream, mind you) and full-on sprinted towards the school.

KRR-SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECCCH!

The front bumper of a red sports car flies just inches away from my body, without any sign of slowing down. I freeze in place. When I realize the car has zoomed off and I am miraculously safe, I stumble away, the breath knocked right out of me as the adrenaline surges through my veins. I... I could have died, just now! The very thought leaves goosebumps on my already-cold arms. What the hell is wrong with the driver of that car? Driving that fast in these conditions... Between the hail and lightning, the visibility outside was awful; you could barely see the outline of your own hand if you held it out in front of your face. Although my older brother always picked on me for my fear of storms, this kind of weather is the very sort that brings accidents along with it.

The second I push open the towering front door to Hetalia Academy, it's immediately apparent to me that the class population is significantly smaller than usual. The usually-crowded halls have plentiful space and hardly any voices above a dull roar. I guess majority of students who live far from campus couldn't make it because of the weather. The wind loudly slams the door tightly shut behind me, and people turn to shoot me sour looks. Sorry, guys, but it's not my fault...

Which brings me to wonder:
If a door slams in Hetalia Academy and the students are shouting, does it make a sound?
The world may never know.

I carry my backpack to my first class of the day- the very same class in which just weeks ago, my rival, Leon, glued my pants to my seat and got me in trouble. My face burns red as cinnamon at the mere thought of it. I walk to the back of the classroom and claim my usual homeroom seat, immediately next to Michelle's seat. For the first time in a while, I have arrived before she has! I can't wait to rub it in her face. Come to think of it, it's been a while since I've talked to her, between her dates with a mystery man and my detention after school. Maybe I'll strike up a chat with her before class, when she comes in. This could be my chance to find out who this secret lover of hers is, once and for all.

...But alas, she never arrives, and the bell rings promptly. My plan has been rendered futile.

Bummer... I'll get you next time, Michelle! She must have seen the storm coming and decided to stay home. Only I know just how terrified she is of driving in the rain.

The Ukrainian teacher stands front and center in the classroom. Even Ms. Braginskaya seems to be feeling a little under the weather, as she doesn't remove her purple jacket from her shoulders, despite being indoors. "Mornin', class... Or rather, all six of you." At her words I curiously scan the classroom. Lo and behold, there really are only six students in the classroom, today! "It's so empty... Why don't you all move to the front of the classroom for today?" Her question is understood by us a demand, and we waste no time packing up our desk stations and relocating to the front row. I take a seat next to Lili Zwingli, a pretty girl from Liechtenstein. She was easy on the eyes. I guess that's one good thing to come out of this day.

The homeroom teacher makes her presence known one last time: "Since most of the class isn't here today, let's just call it a review day. Open your textbooks and please review the material quietly to yourself or in groups."

...Which, for anyone not fluent in Emil-speak, means 'open your textbook and take a nap while pretending to study'. I reach over my desk for my bookbag and dig inside for my world history textbook. Where my book usually sits, my fingers meet nothingness. Did I leave it at home? Drat, I knew something was missing when I left the house!

Speaking of things that had been missing, today...

...Where's Leon? Like Michelle, I can only guess he must have been caught in the rain. However, the more I think about it, Michelle is much more cautious and likely to stay at home when the going gets rough. But Leon... Leon doesn't strike me as the kind of guy who would be bothered by a little rain. In fact, I can picture him walking through the doors with his uniform sopping wet and his shoes tracking mud, wearing a strange yet satisfied grin on his face. "It seems I forgot my umbrella," he'd say.

When Ms. Braginskaya turns her back to the class, I take the opportunity to pull out my cell phone and open my contacts list, all while hiding the device underneath my desk. It's when I scan my contacts over once, twice, and a third time for his name that I realize something very important: I don't have any means of contact with Leon. How strange is that? Lately, I felt as though the distance between the two of us had been closing, so much so that it would have only been natural we would have exchanged numbers by now. I'll take the scolding from Ms. Braginskaya for forgetting my textbook and it'll all be over with, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little curious where he was, especially since his house is not too far off from mine. But Leon's a tough guy. And... Please forget I ever even mentioned it.

By the time the dreary day made it to fifth hour, my art teacher, Mr. Feliciano Vargas, didn't even ask for an assignment from us. Instead of his daily, cheery rant about The Renaissance, he simply sighed, "The weather's pretty bad today, ve...? And with it, it's brought me a terrible case of artists' block..." Without another word, he passed out colored pencils and paper to the underwhelming three students in the entire classroom and let us be. He turned on the television and huddled up in a slump at his desk, next to a pitiful pile of discarded drawings.

As I contently scribble away like a five-year old that has been handed a box of crayons, I listen to the news with a bored ear as I concentrate on my drawing.

"...Bad weather in Hetalia City, today... Flash hailstorm and lightning have greatly hindered outdoor visibility-"

You don't say? My drawing slowly takes the form of a puffin, just like the plush doll I had when I was a child. I reach for a red colored pencil and trace the outline of a fluffy bowtie around his neck. Or was it a blue ribbon? It's been so long since I last saw the plush that I can't remember off the top of my head. I'll have a look when I get home.

"We're seeing major road congestion, with the west side of Hetalia Academy blocked-'

Sounds like my predictions were about spot-on! No wonder the school was so empty today. An outstanding number of families would be affected if the roads to the west were blocked, seeing as those roads are the most major-

"-tragic accident on HetaOni street-"

HetaOni street...
...That's only a few blocks away from my usual route to school.
This accident occurred during or just shortly after my walk this morning.

"...Channel 2 brings you live to the scene." At this point, my hands have stopped coloring and my eyes are glued to the screen like flies to fruit. To this day, I can't say why I looked. I was curious. And looking back, perhaps I would have been better off not looking.

The television cuts from one reporter in the newsroom to another reporter standing outside in the middle of the pouring rain. The hail seems to have dissipated, but the wind looks as furious as ever as the trees blow behind the poor female reporter forced to stand outside. Yellow police-tape flows behind her, keeping the public from entering as the police pick up debris. She crosses the tape, anyway.

"A traffic accident this morning on the corner of 7th Street and Pershing Avenue is the cause of slow traffic on the west side of the roads surrounding Hetalia Academy, this morning. Behind me, we can see the two cars that were involved in the crash. Police say the accident happened when the driver of a red sport scar going nearly double the speed limit crashed into the black car, sending both cars rolling down the slope"

A red sports car, she said... Perhaps it was the very same one that nearly ran me over this morning? It can't just be a coincidence nor would I be surprised if that surely were the case here. By now, the rest of the class- including Mr. Vargas- has stopped their pencil work and joined me in a huddle around the television, where we quietly watch the screen as the depressing news unfolds.

"...Authorities say the adult driver of the red car was drunk at the time of the accident, and is now held in critical condition at Hetalia Hospital. However, the black car, carrying two passengers, was not so lucky," the reporter furrows her eyebrows in deep concern.

It's suddenly becoming hard to breathe.
This story hits a little too close to home.

One one-thousand, two one-thousand...
I play Lukas's counting game quietly to myself as the reporter continues covering the story. If the lightning game could calm the furies of a thunderstorm, surely it could calm this uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"...The driver of the black car was killed immediately upon impact, crushed under the hefty weight of the vehicle. The passenger, a student from Hetalia academy, was immediately evacuated to Hetalia Hospital and his condition is unknown at this time. We will update you as soon as that news is released."

I already know where this is going, but I can't pry my eyes away from the terrific scene.

The scene behind the reported zoomed into the two cars, absolutely torn apart beyond repair. The camera zooms closer into the scene, and one can finally make out the debris from both vehicles, shattered across the hail-covered grass. Small amounts of red dye the grass where the black car lies on its side. It zooms in even closer. This is a bit gruesome for the news. Is the camera purposefully closing in on something? It zooms closer and closer yet, and finally it lands front and center on the screen is a very distinct-looking Hetalia Academy bookbag, lying face-down in the rubble... I can't believe my eyes.

Three one-thousand, four one-thousand, five one-thousand-

I'd recognize those ridiculous keychains anywhere.
They were the very same ridiculous keychains Leon proudly showcased on his bookbag every day.

A/N: Like a freshly removed band-aid, we've made it past this morose chapter. Whew! Let's continue on with the next chapter! After all, those fireworks from the story's title aren't going to light themselves, now, are they?