A/N- I do not own any of these characters.
Reviews are welcome. And yes, my other stories are in production...
Enjoy. Love, Sai-Chan
" MR. MAXIMOFF!!!" the teacher snapped, smacking Pietro's desk with her ruler. He shut up, turning away from where he'd been trying to chat with Evan. They stared at each other for a moment, " I've told you at least five times to hush now, Mr. Maximoff. I understand that an athlete such as yourself would much prefer the physical part of this class, but you have to study health along with gym. Do you understand?"
" Yes, Ma'am,"
" Then you understand that you must be punished for talking?"
" Do I get to go down to the office? 'Cause I'm just dyin' to stretch my legs," he informed her, flashing her his best smile. She frowned deeply, before adjusting her small rim glasses.
" I'm sure you are. But I have a different punishment in mind,"
" Detention?"
" No sir," she dragged a chair away from the unused computers and positioned it in front of her desk, facing the other students. Many of those said students were perking up, curious as to what was going on. She poked Toad in the head, " Mr. Tolansky, sleep is for home. Sit up straight,"
" Yo... wuzz goin' on?" he asked, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. Pietro shrugged as the teacher motioned between him and the chair she had in front.
" Mr. Maximoff, please have a seat," she instructed, sounding a bit more amused then she ought to. He exchanged looks with the other Brotherhood boys, all of whom gave him dim looks. Without much choice then, he got up and took a seat in the offered chair, " Since you love to run your mouth, why don't you try being quiet?"
" Excuse me?"
" Sit here, silently, without moving, for ten minutes and you won't have to go to the principal's office. Fair?" she suggested, crossing her arms over her stomach. All the blond could do was give her a dumbfounded look as the rest of the class snickered, " Good,"
" Couldn't I just go to Kelly's office?"
" No. Now... your ten minutes begins..." she stared up at the clock as he gave her back a glare, " Now. Not a sound, not a movement. Okay class..." her voice trailed off as she walked back up to the board.
Pietro, however, sat there, hands touching the sides of the seat. He couldn't believe that he'd been punished in such a retarded fashion. Normally, teachers jumped at the chance to send him to the front office. That's why he made it a point to get caught talking in class. If he was sent to the office, he could skip class. But this sub, this temporary teacher, had decided to try a proactive way of punishment just when he was really looking forward to cutting out early and going home for a nap or something. Instead of doing that, he was stuck in a hard blue chair in front of twenty or so peers who were mostly giggling at him. And for ten minutes, nonetheless. Ten minutes of sheer boredom.
Rolling his eyes, he took to staring blankly at the wall, waiting for the time to tick by. Seconds pasted and he felt his head growing numb. So, he switched his attention to the students watching him. Lance was chewing on the end of his pencil, writing something that was definitely not notes. When he noticed the blond looking in his direction, he made a face and laughed to himself, shaking his head. Fred had that confused, annoyed look on his face that said he didn't understand what was being said. It took a second, but he too noticed that he was being watched and he casually, but carefully, flicked him off. Toad would've too, Pietro was sure, but his head was flat against the desk and he was dead to the world. Somehow, he could sleep in the front row of a classroom and not get caught. The X-Men were writing down notes, except for Evan and Kurt. They were engaged in a rowdy game of eraser skateboard, doing tricks all over their paperwork skate park. Everyone else in the room was staring holes in the blackboard or doing their work like good little children. Other then the fact that Toad could get away with sleeping like he did, nothing was entertaining about the class.
But only a minute had gone by. Time was slowing down, he was sure of it. There was no way only a minute had pasted. Yet, there were nine minutes left and he had nothing left to stare at. His attention was sharp but unuseable at the moment. No one was doing anything. Thus, his mind began to wander.
He hadn't done his history homework last night. History was his next class. What were they studying? Oh, yes, the civil war. He didn't know anything about that, as he'd never read the chapter. He knew the North had won, and he was pretty sure they were the Union his teacher kept mentioning. Other then that, he had no clue about any of the events or battles or whatever. Didn't he have a test on his homework that day? Chances were that was a yes and he was going to flunk it, just like all his other tests. At the rate things were going in that class, he'd have an F in no time, which meant he'd fail the grade and after to repeat it. Not that he truly cared. He hated school and he hated history, so everything worked out just fine.
Sure, he ought to have cared, he knew. He was failing math too and he was scraping by in English. Gym would've been an A had it not been for the health part, which was the class he was in now. He had an A in his other elective, Art, but that was because the instructions were simple and he got to throw paint at a sheet of paper. Science, he didn't even want to think about the last look he'd gotten when his pop quiz had been handed back. Mr. McCoy would've been ashamed if he'd seen it. And those were all his classes. All the skipping was finally taking it's toll. He wasn't going to be allowed to join any sports if he kept at it and he knew he wouldn't be able to save himself this year. Too many teachers hated him to let him slide for sports reasons.
So, for the first time, he was going to fail at something. On the bright side, he was doing a lot better then Fred and Toad, both who were grateful when teachers handed them Fs. Lance, on the other hand, was doing decently and would more then likely be graduating. That somewhat annoyed him. Good thing the Brotherhood wasn't competitive about grades.
Competitive. Oh, how were they about certain things. Like beating the X-Men, who were acting like such boring good children with their clean clothes and perky smiles. If there was one thing the Brethren didn't compete it besides grades it was perkiness. The X-geeks should've, however. They didn't because they weren't like that but they should've; Kitty would've won hands down. At the Boarding House, if a member woke up and got up in the morning, they were considered perky enough to leave the house and attend school. Smiling wasn't necessary. A blessing that, as none of them were morning people. Unlike most of everyone they ran into in the early hours. Grins and laughter all around, enough to make ones head split open. Gave Pietro a headache, to be honest, walking inside Bayville Public to all that so early. He was glad the Brotherhood didn't compete for perkiness. He'd lose in a heart beat.
Like at the moment. All those damn students were smiling except for the Brotherhood. Lance was glaring at the ceiling, Fred had a dead look on his face, and Toad was drooling on the desk as he dreamt about Wanda. And where ever she was, he knew Wanda wasn't smiling. She never smiled. But those other kids. Why were they smiling like that? All their faces were twisted and big and goofy and strange. As though he was looking at them through crushed glass of some kind. Why did they look like that?
If he hadn't been told not to move, he'd of looked at the teacher to see what she was talking about. Surely she was talking about something funny. What was she talking about anyways? The civil war. Yes, the civil war. The Union, the good guys, were invading the Confederate, the bad guys, to put an end to slavery. But the Confederates weren't going down without a fight. It was war. People were shooting each other dead right in front of him, blood was splattering on all the desks. What was funny about that? How could Toad sleep through all the screaming? He really was a hard sleeper.
Shouldn't an alarm be going off? Maybe it was and he just couldn't hear it over all the yells and thuds. But hadn't the civil war already ended? Yes. It was over and the classroom returned with a bright pink swirl like cotton candy. The Union had won and the baddies were executed by hanging. And there was Lance and Fred dangling from a tree. Toad wasn't because he was from New Jersey and in the Union. Pietro was Jewish and Polish and in Poland freezing his butt off as a snowstorm set in and Lincoln was shot and killed. The war was over but there was so much blood. What was the next chapter in the history book? Who knew. He didn't. He hadn't even read the civil war chapter. The last bit he read was about the colonies and the beginnings of the Revolutionary War.
The war was over, but there was all that blood. It twisted into Nazi signs and bled into his sneakers. His body went stiff as the red liquid of his fellow Jews was splattered on his T-Shirt and a number was burned into his arm. He was a slave now, just like the people who'd been freed when Lance and Fred were hung. Was Toad dead yet? Maybe. He was an atheist so surely Hilter had shot him too. Where was he dying? New Jersey? But wait. Pietro couldn't be in a concentration camp. His father had been so he wasn't born yet. So he just disappeared and was left unable to breathe as he sat in a black world that was filled with toxic gas. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe.
The blood. The blood of his father. It wasn't blood anymore. There were snakes all over the floor of the classroom. His eyes grew wide, but he couldn't breathe so he couldn't yell. But there was no way those goodie X-Men wouldn't notice and start shooting with their lasers and spikes and whatever to save all the undeserving humans. No one moved and the snakes and maggots and spiders climbed about the room, wrapping everyone in oozing liquid and crawling into mouths and hair. Why wasn't Toad awake now? He'd freak out if he saw all those spiders. It was a buffet. But, wait, he was dead, right? No, just sleeping while dreaming about Wanda, who was insane and sitting in a cell somewhere.
And then it was raining and still no one moved. The rain washed all the spiders and snakes and maggots into a giant drain near his feet, both of which were strapped to the chair he was seated in. The rain poured down and caused holes to form in the cement floor as a car blocked the X-Men from view and his sister was dragged up the stairs of that building, screaming. She never screamed for him. Just for their father. If she'd only said his name, he'd of come running, but she never noticed him. No one ever noticed him. So he just pretended to believe their dad, believe that she needed to be there, and got back into the car. She went away and she never noticed him. He expected that. They were so different. He noticed her. He always noticed her. She never noticed him. They were so different. And the rain hurt so bad as it ripped through the students that stared at the wall and the Brotherhood ignored the rest of the world and shivered as though they could feel the rain too. Could they? Maybe someone was dying in front of them too.
But who was dying? The war was over and the bugs were gone, along with Wanda, who was sleeping in a warm bed in the Boarding House. The war was over. What was the next chapter? What was the teacher talking about? The civil war, right? Yes. But what was next? The Revolutionary War? Was history repeating itself like the teachers did every year? He was failing. He'd have to repeat a grade. And then everything would be dull and he'd be sitting in the rain and he couldn't breathe and he wouldn't be able to then.
A pain went up his chest and he knew his heart was stopping. Everything was spinning and fading around the edges. Lance was mouthing words. What? He didn't understand. Fred gave him a look. The teacher was talking and walking in slow motion. Then her ruler smacked down next to Toad's head and he woke up and said something as he sat up in fast forward. Then he was back down, up again, spinning around, and the air was painful. Aches ran down his legs and he knew he was dying like everyone else in the room. He was being shot by a Union officer and he was going to die. Wasn't he in Poland? Why was he in the civil war? He couldn't breathe either way, so what did it matter?
The room closed in on him, the walls danced up and down. Heads were moving, a hand was waved in his direction. Everything went double and then very, very, very still. No movement. He couldn't move. If he moved the world would explode and he would be alone in a dark, quiet world. He couldn't move. He couldn't move. And he couldn't breathe. Why was the room dancing? Why wasn't Kurt? Didn't he dance? Or was he not because he was a Nazi and going to shoot Pietro? Why couldn't he breathe?
Then the ground came up very fast. Pietro slammed into it, letting out a gasp and remembering he was supposed to breathe. As the room blackened and the Brotherhood all rushed to his side as the teacher screamed, he choked and breathed. And realized he had more in common with his insane sister then he thought. He had, after all, just forgotten to breathe for several minutes. And that he had a good chance of passing that civil war test next period.
If the world ever stopped spinning, that is.
End.