Chapter Twenty-Five

                                    

                                          

THE NEW DUE DATE FOR THE CONTEST IS ON: APRIL 14th
                          
Thanks for all the entries I've been getting, love you guysss 
                          
enjoy the gay
                          
hip hip hurray
have a great day
now please go away
                          
i'm so poetic wow
                          
JACK frowned. The principals office was quiet - too quiet, considering the amount of people currently occupying it. All of the boys sat in the silence, the silence that was anything but comfortable. Tense, definitely - awkward, maybe. Angry in a way that didn't need to be commented on. Everybody in the room was tense; Jack realized he wasn't the only one with jagged breathing and nervous glances casted around. 
                          
He glanced nervously at Mark, who was sitting beside him quietly, beside Mark was Matt, beside Matt was Cry, across from Cry was Felix; beside Felix, and across from Matt were Bob and Wade. Tyler was glaring at Jack from where he sat, across from the Irishman. Jack tried not to notice and instead held eye contact with Mark, as if speaking through their eyes.
                          
And then Jack felt something tug at his own hand, and wordlessly he allowed Mark's fingers to lace through his own. He stared into his deep brown eyes, mesmerized by their intensity, and feeling a shift somewhere in his gut at the intensity they held.
                          
"Stop eye-fucking each other and get a room," somebody said, and Jack's now narrowed eyes found Bob's lips moving to form the sentence. 
                          
"No," Mark quietly snapped back.
                          
"You." Bob snarled at Mark, "Don't talk back to me, bitch."
                          
"I'll talk to you if I fucking want to-"
                          
"Mark," Jack quietly but strongly said, giving him wide and serious eyes. Mark slightly relaxed and gave Jack a nod, taking a few deep breaths.
                          
"Need your boyfriend to hold you back?" Wade scowled.
                          
Mark bit his tongue as if not to shoot back a reply. When he did speak, it was calm and slow and maybe a little too strongly-spoken. "No, I'd just rather not beat you up while we're in the principal's office."
                          
"Beat me up?" Scowled Wade in disbelief. "Bitch, try me."
                          
Mark went to stand, but this time it was Cry who glared at him. "Mark."
                          
"What?" Mark said, angrily glaring at Cry in return. "I'm not doing anything, it's him." He nodded at Wade, whom scoffed.
                          
Jack nervously frowned, keeping a sturdy gaze on Mark. Eventually, the redhead seemed to relax. He looked over at Jack, who offered a hopeful smile. He whispered to the redheaded boy, "Just forget about everyone else. It's you and me against the world, right?"
                          
"Right." Their grasp against each other tightened. And then there was the sound of a door opening - out walked the principal, Mr. Ivers, in the flesh. He wore a grey suit with a striped blue tie. His arms were crossed and he was frowning, which wasn't unusual. The facial expression seemed to suit his face - he was in his late forties, and to compliment this, he had silvery hair that was gradually receding. He looked tired - for a moment Jack pitied him. Until he spoke.
                          
"Anybody care to tell me what happened?" He leaned precariously against a wall, waiting for somebody to speak. For a moment there was a raw, teeth-gritting silence - and then Matthew spoke up.
                          
"Bob and Wade were saying stuff to Mark, Mark got pissed off - um, I mean, he got angry - and Bob got pis- uh angry too. Everybody started fighting." Jack looked over at the skinny boy with the brown hair - he looked out of place. Matt was usually the stereotypical good kid in these situations, so obviously, one could understand why he was sweating beads and stuttering.