"Scout, if you are the fastest runner, why are you always late to class?"

Scout shook his leg incessantly at his desk, chewing furiously at his pencil's eraser. He didn't listen to a single word as his teacher droned on with the lecture—he never did, but this time it wasn't out of the usual boredom that clouded his mind. No, this guy had struck a nerve that wasn't about to cease its throbbing. And with it, the teacher's words echoed in his head.

"Scout, if you are the fastest runner, why are you always late to class?"

The color drained from Scout's face as the class collectively snickered at Spy's quip. To add some extra salt to the wound, Spy added, "I'd consider that a rather—ah, how would you put it in your own words—a 'sick burn,' wouldn't you agree?"

The classroom erupted with laughter.

Holy shit! Just when he thought he was at least able to tuck the entire scenario in the back of his mind to be forgotten, more memories came flooding in, fresher than ever. But he was still stuck on that "Scout, if you are the fastest runner, why are you always late to class?" God, what could he even counter with that?

"Maybe because I'm too busy getting some, unlike you!" Nah, that wouldn't work. He briefly quit chewing on his eraser to messily erase the doodle on his "notes" he did of himself having sex with Spy's wife (if he had one) while flipping two birds at the teacher, who watched onward in horror, sobbing dramatically. He wasn't too confident with how the "sex" was looking—he was just kind of sticking his penis in the woman's eyeball.

He thought up all kinds of answers as he doodled away pictures of Spy getting hit with his Algebra book. "I am the fastest, maybe you're the slowest at teaching!" No, that one just sucked. Maybe it'd sound cool when he was, like, twelve, but he was pushing nineteen now. Yeah! He was an adult! He'd show Spy—like an adult!

"I suppose that ought to wrap things up. Class dismissed."

Scout hopped from his seat at the back of the classroom, and jogged over to Spy.

"Yo, teach—uh, Spy, I mean, Mr. Spy!" He slammed a hand down hard on Spy's desk. Yeah, I'm not just your student, I'm a fuckin' adult! You don't mess with me!

"Yes, Scout? What is it?" Spy answered, adjusting his glasses. He didn't look the least bit perturbed by his student's aggressive entrance. Alright, I got this, Scout thought, Brains, not brawn, got it. Gotta approach this all…adult-like.

"I uh…I got a proposition for you." Proposition. Yeah. That sounded good.

"And what is your proposal?" Spy asked calmly, folding his hands in his lap. He looked with curiosity at Scout—mocking curiosity. Oh, he was gonna get it now.

"Well, you know when you asked me why I was always late to class, even though I'm the fastest runner here…" Shit, where was he going with this? "Well I…got an answer for that! But, you know, I can't answer right now 'cause it's complicated. Hey! How about I write you a paper?"

"A paper on why you are always late despite being the fastest runner?"

"Yeah! Exactly! I'll even have it ready tomorrow!" I can prove I'm the fastest runner AND fastest student here, yeah!

"I look forward to it."

Spy still looking annoyingly calm. Scout couldn't really do much more than stutter out a "Yeah, you better!" which he knew sounded about as threatening as…homework. Nah, scratch that, homework was pretty threatening. But basically, he knew it was all bark and no bite. He saw Spy's clearly amused smirk and ran off before he (hopefully) saw Scout's face begin to redden.

"Alright, time to give this guy a piece of me!" Scout cracked his knuckles at his keyboard, readying up his verbal ass-kicking skills. He pulled up a blank document. Alright, the beginning part was easy. "I'm always late to class despite being the fastest runner because…"

He was screwed now.

He didn't even think of what he was going to answer with as he walked back home, too high on pride from coming up with that plan to give his teacher a smack-down at the last minute, and hot with embarrassment from his incredibly low-tier last comeback to him. He really had to make this work, or he'd never be the hotshot of the class again.

Oh what the hell. He'd just write up whatever came to mind, save that as his crappy rough draft, then wake up first thing in the morning to polish it up all nice before handing it over to Spy the next day.

"Hey! Why're you grinning?!"

"'In conclusion, I am fast. I am hardcore. You don't want to mess with me, Frenchie.'" Spy shook his head laughing, setting his glasses down to wipe a tear from his eye.

"Yeah, uh…I kinda didn't have time to make a final draft, I was up all night writing it, see, so I admit the last part's kinda crappy," Scout said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, "But what'd you think? Pretty…uh…good answer, yeah?"

Spy chuckled some more, then straightened himself up, still smiling but making serious eye contact with Scout. "Scout, what exactly are you trying to prove? Clearly, it's not that you're fastest."

"Hey, hey, I am—"

Spy raised a hand. "I have no doubt you are quick on your feet. You don't need a paper to prove that to me—in fact, a paper is rather useless for proving that sort of thing. But why exactly did you feel the burning need to answer what was clearly a rhetorical question, a joke?"

"That's just it! I am not gonna be made out to be the laughingstock of the class because of you."

"So you wrote a paper."

"Yeah! So maybe, I could show you who's boss!"

"But…what exactly would that achieve? The class wouldn't be here to witness your, ah," Spy flipped to an earlier page of Scout's paper, "'Epic ownage of the teacher.'"

"They'd totally see it on your face, though! The minute you walked in, they could see, 'Ohhhh boy. Scout sure gave it to him. I'll never mess with Scout.'"

"So really, this is a matter of gaining a firm sense of dominance. Of pride. Or rather, reclaiming it, as you believe I've stolen it from you."

"Well, uh…" Shit, I didn't think he was gonna get all deep on me. "Yeah. Yeah, that's exactly it!"

Spy nodded. "Scout, come, have a seat."

Scout normally would rebel against a teacher's order, but it was kind of pointless here, so he pulled up a chair and sat across from Spy.

"Scout. I want you to understand—as a teacher, I am not here to steal anything from you. I am here to teach."

"Well, no shit, that's why you're called a teacher."

Spy shook his head. "Apparently I, too, need to work on my phrasing." (Wait, "too"?) "I am here to teach so you can learn. And you need to learn in order to grow. Yes, I am aware you are at the age where you are recognized as an adult—but your growth never stops there, and I am here to guide that growth process along."

Scout wasn't sure what to make of Spy's words. They were…well, something to chew on. They made some sense. But there was still that one, nagging thing he left hanging.

"So…what was I supposed to learn from that 'why are you always late' deal yesterday?"

"That? Well, why are you always late, Scout? You wrote quite a bit in your paper about how you're 'the shit' but nothing that sufficiently answered why you repeatedly chose to run late, despite you being more than capable of being able to accomplish that simple task?"

"Well, that's easy! I don't want to be stuck here for an hour and a half! So I'll just trim that hour off!"

Spy shrugged. "There you have it."

"Wait…I've totally been blowing this out of proportion."

Spy smiled. "You see? You are learning."