Diclaimer: own nothing, still

Shawn walked into the locker room where he found a bunch of boys, football players he suspected, harassing Lassiter.

"Ooh, missed a spot." One tall boy said as he threw a candy wrapper on the floor.

"Bet he barely finished high school." The boy said, making the others laugh.

"Yeah, that's what I hear. All the high school dropouts, the failures, end up janitors. Ain't that right Janitor Carl?" Shawn hid a snicker. He knew that Lassiter hadn't told the kids his name and he knew that Lassiter didn't have his name on his uniform, so he concluded one thing; the kid was in theater. He also knew that his buddies would never find out.

"Hey guys, shouldn't you be getting out of here." Shawn said stepping up next to Lassiter. Lassiter just gave him a look basically asking what the heck he was doing.

"Yeah, whatever. We've got a get out of class card, football team, dude. Doesn't look like you'd understand that."

"Not understand football, please. What's to understand, you throw a pig skin, run several yards, put it over a line, do a little dance and then do it all over again, oh, if you're really hyped up you beat the heck out of a guy. So tell me again I don't understand football." He glared at them. Annoyed that no matter what year, the football players were always arrogant.

"Whatever, dude. We're outta here." He says as he and his buddies filed out of the locker room, but not before bumping into Shawn, Lassiter, or both.

"You know you didn't have to come to the rescue, Spencer. I am an adult."

"Lassie, you were about to loose it on them. Not a cool thing to do. You've got to get down at their level and that would be football and idiocracy." He said as if it was nothing.
"Be an idiot, that's all? Sure that's not hard for you." Lassiter said with a smirk.

"Whatever. Just be careful to keep your cool and remember they're a bunch of big muscled idiots." Shawn said, ignoring Lassiter's comment.

"You're forgetting, Spencer, I was in high school too."

"You were a muscled idiot." He retorted as he began to open and close lockers.

"I wasn't an idiot, I worked my butt off for my grades."

"So, you weren't a scrawny kid who barely had to work for his grades. Weren't the kid who had one friend really." Shawn said.

"Uh, I guess not." Lassiter was surprised by the seriousness he was getting from Shawn.

"Well, then you're a muscled idiot. So what've you got, anything interesting?" Shawn was back, the seriousness wiped from his face as if it were never there.

"Tell me, you're psychic."

"Ah, right." Shawn had forgotten about the façade he put on for the station, his mind stuck on the one he'd put on for high school.

"Well?"

"Well, the spirits, are getting nothing. They're being stubborn today." Shawn said with a smile. The truth was he wasn't ready to clue them in on who the killer was because he wasn't entirely sure who it was.

"They are, whatever, Spencer. I don't understand, why the charade?" Lassiter was starting to wonder if his photographic memory had a play in how he solved cases.

"What charade, Lassie?" Shawn questioned, feigning confusion.

"I'm one of the people that know you aren't psychic, yet you still do it when I'm the only one here. You're not fooling me."

"Wanna help the spirits out, Lassie?" Shawn asked, ignoring the question and indicating for Lassiter to tell what he may have found.

"Fine, nothing. The only talk is about how everyone surprised that he's dead. Nothing more than that."

"Whoever did it is smart." Shawn said thoughtfully

"So not a muscled idiot then." He was still taken back by what Shawn had said.

"No, it could still be a muscled idiot, just one who knows how to keep his mouth shut."

A/N: Brownie points if you can identify play referred to by the boy. :D

To Be Continued...