Loafing around just inside the school gates, Jared Hunt is having an argument with his cousin, Archer Hunt. He is grinning happily, his dirty-blond hair sparkling in the morning sun looks almost as cheerful as he is. He is, as usual, completely unfazed by his cousin's irritated scowl.

Nothing on this earth is capable of wiping the perpetual grin from Jared's face or spoiling his mood. Not even the fact that Archer, as usual, is stubbornly disagreeing with his well-formed theories, his translucent grey-green eyes giving Jared disdainful looks from under arched brows.

Theirs is an old argument, one that recurs every time a new movie, game or comic on the subject is released. They could literally disagree on this very important point for days on end.

Does Batman qualify as a superhero since he's not an alien and has no superpowers?

Today, Jared seems to be winning the debate. Based on completely fictional data he'd plucked from the air, he'd just made some valid points to...

"Proof beyond any doubt that the dude in the black cape is as super as any other hero whether he has superpowers or not."

"Who gives a crap?" their friend, John Aguilar, growls, reaching the school gate and interrupting the life-changing debate that is bound to carry on forever if someone doesn't decisively step in and put the idiots out of their misery.

The two boys were so engrossed in their argument that neither noticed the arrival of the circle of friends' most essential member... Well, he's the guy who always has snacks with him, after all.

John glowers at them - which is not unusual - clutching a pink lunchbox in one hand and carrying his schoolbag slung over the other shoulder. He didn't have time to brush his dark hair, and his tie is a mess. That is unusual because John is normally startlingly neat.

He looks exactly the way he feels - dishevelled and rushed. Both of these things are apt to put him in a bad mood, and right now, he is – for once - glaring on purpose.

His angry question successfully puts an end to the infinite discussion, replacing it with unwanted interest. John and Ranger - the still absent member of the group - always end the cousins' long-winded debates when they get sick of it. John usually does it with statements like: "He has the guts to wear his undies over tights. Seriously, if that doesn't make him super, nothing will."

Or his favourite and most effective argument: "I have beer at my house... and my own TV, let's go!"

John also has a fridge stocked with ingredients for various snacks, and he loves cooking. Games, beer and food! Jared once said that John is, without any doubt, a superhero, and his room is their official lair.

Ranger usually stops ongoing debates by calmly threatening violence. He is as dangerous as he is pretty, and he is very pretty... or handsome since he broke his nose a while back, and it is not 100% straight anymore. Besides, only the most brave (or stupid) will ever call that turbulent 18-year-old boy pretty.

Ranger is one scary guy.

He isn't perpetually scowling, the way that John tends to do and he seldom seems irritated or even angry... unless one knows the signs. He is deceptively calm, chillingly self-controlled, and misleadingly pleasant-looking. Unlike John, Ranger isn't moody; Ranger doesn't bark...

Ranger bites.

"Love your new accessory, Johnna... it's very... uhm...you!" Jared chuckles, his smokey blue eyes sparkling as he nods at the little girl's lunch box in John's big hand. To him it seems almost obscene seeing the dainty lunch box practically disappearing in John's hand. It's as if, at some point, there must've been a little girl attached to it, and he cannot help but wonder what happened to her.

Did John eat her?

"Shuddup," John says flatly, making both his friends laugh.

"Class is that way," Archer points out when, after a few seconds of self-debate, grinding his teeth and shifting his weight, John takes off in the direction of a building that doesn't contain their first class for the day.

"Yeah," he agrees, lengthening his strides.

He is not exactly sure whom his anger is directed at, himself or Floren. Perhaps it's meant for Jared, who is wearing that angelic grin that almost always means that he is going to be a pest.

John supposes that he's mostly irritated with himself for caring so damned much. He keeps on asking himself why he cares. Why is he carrying a stupid dolly lunch box to a classroom leagues away from his own when he's already barely on time? Why does he care that Floren is probably ravenously hungry and regretting her decision to skip breakfast in favour of a new activity she's definitely not going to enjoy?

Floren is a klutz, and she probably has a certificate to prove it.

This is not the first time that John has had this debate with himself, but today, there is another, even more important, question adding itself to all the others.

Why are these two assholes following him?!

"Your girlfriend is not with you today; did you two have a fight?"

Being a high-spirited, energetic, and very enthusiastic person, there are a lot of things in life that Jared truly enjoys doing. Amongst the highest ranking of these activities are skateboarding, football, swimming and his ultimate favourite: pestering John when he's in a bad mood.

"She's not my girlfriend."

"Well... Dude... You cook for her at least twice a day, you do most of her laundry, and you pack her some seriously elaborate lunches," Archer chimes in, counting each item off on his fingers. Being annoying might be a family talent because when he puts his mind to it, Archer can out-pester Jared any day. "And you're brave enough to carry that lunchbox around... on purpose," he adds and then snaps his fingers, nodding his head, covered in cinnamon brown hair as if he'd come to a genius conclusion. "You're right! She's not your girlfriend. You're her dad!"

Tossing a grumbled explanation over his shoulder, John dodges into the classroom he'd been looking for, ignoring the merry laughter following in his footsteps. His friends are thoroughly enjoying their stupid jokes while they should be heading to their classroom since the bell rang about 20 steps ago.

"Morons," he mutters under his breath. They don't understand anything. Well, if John had to be honest with himself, then neither does he...

Floren is sitting at her desk, gazing out the window, absently rubbing her right wrist. She's not as cheerful as she'd been around 4:00 in the morning. John guesses that she's probably dreaming about bacon and eggs on toast about now.

He has to weave his way through a throng of giggling 15-year-old females to reach her. At least the girls, nervously yielding a path in light of his angry scowl, are helping him lose his unwanted entourage by crowding around Jared and Archer like flies around two particularly juicy cow patties. This being an all-girl class, they are eager for the attention of boys, especially older ones. Jared is his charming self, grinning like the idiot he is, while Archer seems to be ready to turn tail and run.

His surprising shyness causes him to retreat into an aura of inaccessible mysteriousness, which in turn fans the girls' excitement... increasing Archer's shyness... It's a never-ending cycle. Floren is the only girl, except for Archer's sister, that does not transform the normally cool, aloof guy into a tongue-tied moron. Even his sister's harmless, though slightly disturbing, best friend makes the guy want to hide under the nearest table.

John slams the lunchbox down on the desk Floren is leaning on, startling her from her daydream.

"Foodies!" she exclaims, recognizing the lunchbox. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you, Johnny!" She makes a grab for the box and winces, causing John to cuss softly.

He knew it!

"You got hurt," he accuses and gulps down the rest of his sentence when she looks up at his frown with large brown eyes shining with unshed tears. The target of his anger instantly shifts to the gymnastics coach. He has a new question to deal with now. Could the woman not tell that Floren was hurt?!

"A little bit..." she says with a beaming smile, answering that question. No, she probably couldn't tell that beneath that angelic smile sits a world of pain. John has had intensive training in reading Floren.

He gingerly takes the wrist she'd been stroking and studies it carefully. It's a little bruised and tender, but there's no serious swelling or distortion, as far as he can tell. He thinks it's probably okay, but he is no expert.

"Jar!" he shouts, nodding his head towards Floren when Jared glances away from his groupies to see what John wants.

"Hey, Flo, what have you been up to?" Jared smiles when he finally reaches them and dutifully inspects Floren's wrist at John's request. When it comes to general knowledge about common injuries, Jared is the guy to consult. He has done a few advanced first-aid courses and lives for this kind of thing. He does not, however, enjoy seeing others in pain, even if the challenge to fix them excites him.

"Hi, Jared..." Floren is blushing, peering up at the boy through thick lashes that suddenly seem to be too heavy to stay open. John rolls his eyes. It never ceases to amaze him that Jared became catnip to girls - all girls... even Floren - near the end of tenth grade when he had a growth spurt. He's been aware for the past two years that she has a huge crush on the guy, but it still confuses him when he sees her reaction to him.

Floren is not supposed to have crushes on guys. No matter how often he tells her that she's not a little girl anymore, she is. She's a little girl! Dammit!

"Lara Croft made it look easy," she explains, smiling dimples at Jared, who laughs, nodding his head in agreement. Amazing how nobody needs any more information on the matter to be able to understand exactly what happened to Floren.

"It's not so bad," Jared declares, grinning happily." Looks like you banged it against something hard enough to sprain it a little. It should be okay in a day or two, just use some ice-"

"Gentlemen?!"

Neither of the boys had to turn around to see who'd just entered the classroom on the heels of the sharp ring of the second school bell. Mrs Appleby, the eldest and orneriest of all the teachers at Hornsey High School.

The boys have had more than their fair share of run-ins with her. Encounters that, almost without exception, caused them to end up in the principal's office.

Jared stiffens, his eyes growing even larger than normal, and then he turns, smiling at the irritated teacher. Nobody can ever resist his smiles... except perhaps Mrs Appleby...

"Our apologies, ma'am, but we need to take Floren to the nurse's office. I think her wrist might be broken," he explains and Floren moans on cue. John stifles a snort, wondering when his friends had time to practice this little scene.

Mrs Appleby glances at Floren's wrist and the small amount of swelling and bruising is apparently enough to convince her that Jared, for once, is not joking around. Besides, it's general knowledge that he spends his weekends volunteering as a paramedic in training and, therefore, has a vast knowledge of a wide range of injuries.

Just to be sure that the woman doesn't decide to contradict Jared's opinion, John scoops the girl up, preventing an in-depth inspection of her injury.

"Uhm... she's in shock..." he enlightens the teacher when he becomes aware of being on the receiving end of a sea of questioning looks where his standing, holding Floren in his arms as if she were a toddler. Before Mrs Appleby can think about the situation too deeply, John takes off through the crowd of swooning on-lookers to where Archer is still loitering uneasily in the classroom door.

Archer has a talent for successfully pretending not to be present when he does not like the situation he finds himself trapped in. He regrets not hurrying to his own classroom as soon as Jared got swallowed by a flock of friggin' sparrows, but he wanted to see if Floren was all right when John grumbled something about gymnastics and stupid fairies when he and Jared were teasing him on their way here.

Jared follows the path John cuts through the girls, reluctantly dispersing to go to their seats. He is carrying Floren's schoolbag, and the patient is smiling happily, lounging in John's muscled arms, clutching her precious lunchbox as they make their escape.

Well, this is one way for her to get out of English with Mrs Appleby. She wasn't looking forward to it. Nobody enjoys spending two periods back-to-back in her class, especially not at the start of the day... and on an empty stomach, with an arm that is aching so badly, she just wants to curl up and cry.

When they reach the infirmary, John dumps Floren on the bed with more force than planned. To him, she doesn't weigh more than a breadcrumb, even though she loves food and eats like a horse. Her fragility always catches him off guard, scaring him. It causes him to become unreasonably angry.

"Sorry," he growls, not sounding sorry at all, though he really is sorry.

Floren's wrist seems to have swollen some more during the short trip to the infirmary and John hates seeing her in pain, even when she's hiding her discomfort behind a ridiculous smile aimed at Jared.

His friend is good at superficially assessing injuries, but he might've forgotten that Floren isn't a normal human being with normal human being bones.

She's a blooming sprite with crystal bones!

Without a word, John spins on his heel and leaves the room, banging the door behind him.

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