Author's Notes: Two things- the cartoon mentioned was actually made by a friend of mine. She drew it in class; it was...amusing. SWecondly, any shonen-ai is probably in the minds of those making the observation- I didn't write any intentional undertones (I'd be horrible at it) but by all means, if you want to see it go ahead.

Disclaimer: Still, anything recognizable belongs to whoever thought of them first. Not me, in other words.

Cram Session

Monday 7:57 am

The few birds brave enough to reside inside the Training Center were singing, and the Grats were staying out of the T-Rexaur's way, and all was right with the world. Or not. The Secret Area- once an area of solitude and solemn contemplation under the night sky, was a disaster area. There were pillow feathers everywhere- students training would report Grats with feathers stuck in their leaves for weeks- as well as a small army of paper figurines. In fact, there were two armies, and it kinda looked in a paper-figure sort of way that an aerial squad had been bombing a race of anthropomorphics, who had taken shelter within a pillow fortress.

There was even a tiny paper catapult for retailiation.

Nearby, there was a scattered selection of books- thick texts and thinner notebooks, with three sets of handrwiting. Examination would reveal the words becomming more and more scratched and upset, as though the hand that penned them had been shaking madly. One notebook had given up on words entirely, and switched to drawings- little chibi figures marched across the pages, pouting, fighting, dancing- all sugary portrayls of everyday life. There were little hearts in the margins, and a short cartoon involving a Woe Flower being vanquished by a Marmalade Cat.

It was a disaster area, but at least it was quiet. The only sounds were the rustling of Grats, the cheeping of birds, and the frenzied footsteps of three teenagers in a mad rush towards the classrooms.

"OHHH SHIT WE'RE GONNA BE LAAAAATE!"

"Quit yer whining, Chickenwuss! We are not gonna be late!"

"Ha! A ninja is never late! Nor is he early; he arrives exactly when he-"

"You're notta ninja! You're wearin' a cowboy hat!"

"Right! Ninjas hate cowboys!"

"Ninjas hate PIRATES, Zell, not cowboys!"

"Arrgh! Ninjas hate EVERYONE! Now shaddup and RUN!"

8:02 am

Squall, Seifer, and Zell stopped for a moment outside Quistis' classroom door, making a hurried attempt to neaten their hair and make it look like they hadn't just ran from halfway across the school. Then they stepped inside.

Quistis looked up from her desk, knowing there was always one student late to every test. But she hadn't anticipated these three- well, maybe Seifer. And Zell wasn't the most punctual student, though he did try. Squall, on the other hand, was by-the-book enough to show up on time, or at least mostly on time. She'd never really punished him for lateness. Either way, it was highly unusual for more than one student to be late to a test- and never these three together. And never in such dissarray.

Zell's hair stuck out in all directions, like he'd tried to spike it out in a punk hairdo. His cowlick remained intact- the earth could shatter, and it would stay perfectly in place, Quistis was sure.

Seifer had none of his usual charm and swagger, instead nearly tripping on the doorframe. His left eyelid was twitching.

Squall looked impassive as ever, but his jacket was only half on, and for one bizzare moment Quistis thought he'd grown his hair long- then she blinked, and was able to recognise the brown thing on his back was Irvine's hat, hanging neatly from Squall's neck by its leather cord. A small white feather was stuck in the brim.

Quistis had a horrible sinking feeling, like the ground was dropping away from under her as she watched the three mill about, then take their seats. Hyne, it would figure her three best choices for love interest were gay. Though how it explained Irvine's hat...

Quistis blushed and turned her head towards her desk.

Name: Squall Leonheart

There, that was easy. Squall glanced at the next question.

SEED Rank:

Damn, trick question. He pursed his lips. He didn't think Commander was a rank. He skipped it, then moved on, writing 'Quistis Trepe' next to 'Instructor:'.

Question 1: What is another name for the negative Status Effect called Slow Death?

He knew this one. He knew it! He just...couldn't think of the name, was all. Squall frowned. He couldn't give up on the first question. He skimmed through the rest of the test, looking for a pattern. And those who search, Find. Squall supressed a chuckle, feeling immensely pleased with himself. He muttered a quick mental apology to Siren for improper use of her abilities, then started filling in all the blanks.

Answer: For Whom the Bell Tolls

Question 2: Name five positive Status Effects.

Answer: 1) Dude 2)Looks 3)Like 4)a 5)Lady

Question 3: ...

Zell wished the letters would quit moving- he was pretty sure they weren't supposed to do that. It was a paper test, after all. It wasn't an advertising billboard in Galbadia. Or Esthar. Or...or...

Zell stabbed his pen at the paper. The words, cowed by his wrath, stood still. But the pen- oh, traitorous creature!- had broken under the assault, and spitefully bled it's last unto Zell's hand. The words tittered and laughed at him, giggling and pointing at Zell's ink-blackened hand.

"Quiet, you!" Zell hissed, then stamped his hand down on the paper. The paper was now covered by a large hand print, like a mark of conquest. The words, awed, began building little temples of worship to their new master, temples that looked an awful lot like sentences.

Zell muffled his giggles behind his hands, leaving a second black mark on his face. It didn't match the tattoo.

Section 3: True or False

Question 37: The mome raths outgrabe.

Seifer blinked. Things had taken a decidedly curious turn. He glanced down at the rest of the section. Yes, all nonsense.

Answer: True

Question 38: The 15th Lindblum war started in 1600

Question 39: You can defeat Ragtimer

Question 40: Do you Yahoo?

The hell?

9:00 am

The bell rang, and there was a class-wide scramble to write in answers, any answers, before Quistis collected the test forms. At last, she reached the back of the room, and the three twitchy teens handed over their papers. Then, defeated, they walked back to the Secret Area. Zell was the first to speak.

"Damn...that sucked." They decided to have some coffee, to feel better. A few minutes later, when the buzz had reasserted itself, Seifer turned to the others and, summoning an imaginary soapbox, began speaking.

"This is dumb. Yeah, the test sucked, and yeah, we probably didn't do quite so well as we'd hoped, but now what? We just gonna sit here an' mope! I say no!" At this, Seifer leapt up onto the ledge that separated the Training Center from the outside air. "We got a whole vacation ahead o' us! We can't let it go to waste!"

"Seifer, what else are we going to do? There's no way we'll get permission to leave the island, much less Garden, after they get the test scores processed." Squall shrugged. "But..." He stopped, then frowned.

"Can't read your mind, Squall."

Squall grimaced, then continued his thoughts aloud. "...we can't stay here. Cid'll be looking for his expresso machine as soon as he gets out of the Infirmary."

There. The horrible, horrible truth revealed. They couldn't leave, and they couldn't stay. Not legally, anyway.

Surprisingly, it was Zell's caffiene-soaked brain that managed to put two and two together and get five. "...then what are we waiting for? ROADTRIP!"

The test was over, but the adventure had just begun.