Austen stuck his head around the corner, scanning the corridor for Mr Irving. They'd been looking for several minutes, but the man had remained unfound.

"Bloody inconsiderate of him," Austen muttered. Satisfied with his perusal of the hall, he turned back in the direction he'd come from, lifting a hand to rake the hair out of his face. 

"What did you say?"

Austen's head jerked to the right, but he couldn't spot Ebony. "Where are you?"

Someone poked him in the back and the boy nearly jumped out of his skin. As it was, he let out a high-pitched yelp and spun quickly. Ebony raised a thin brow, grinning from where she was leaning in a classroom doorway. 

"Bit skittish, aren't you?" she chuckled. 

Rolling his eyes, Austen felt a smile drag itself onto his face. "If you didn't keep appearing out of nowhere..." He grumbled.

Her smile faded quickly, and Austen's fell in harmony, until they were standing there, chest to chest, frowning at each other.

"Holy Hell!" The cry went up, and both their heads whipped to the side. Austen grabbed Ebony's hand, pulling her along behind him.

"Come on," he urged. They pounded along the hallway, glancing sideways every now and then to check the classrooms and branching corridors. Austen stopped suddenly, and Ebony crashed into him. her forehead smashed his shoulder and she let out a gasp, glowering up at him from under her fringe. His attention was fixed to the side, and she followed his gaze, letting out another cry.

Salena was standing to the side, both hands clamped across her mouth, and Phitz was keeling beside Mr Irving's head. He was on the ground, torse protruding from a classroom, with Ms Smith by his side. She was sitting back on her heels, looking quite flustered, with FInnegan and Carissa towering over her.

Carissa looked up, saw Austen, and smiled, batting her lashes. Then her eyes drifted down. 

Ebony quickly became super-aware of her hand in Austen's, and ripped it free, stepping quickly to the side. He frowned, wiggling his fingers slightly, and glanced out the corner of his eye. Ebony had retreated into the shadows, making her hair seem darker and her skin paler, until she looked like a ghost. he wished she'd step back into the light, back up to his side.

Quickly shaking his head, Austen glanced back at the group by the classroom. They were all looking at them now, or him rather. "What the hell happen here?"

Ms Smith rubbed her eyes, letting out a sigh. "Finnegan hit Anthony, Mr Irving, with a chair."

Austen winced, but couldn't hide the accompanying smirk. He nodded at Phitz. "And you said he was the one who always got smashed."

Phitz returned his expression briefly, unaware of the miffed Finnegan pouting behind him, but then looked back to his patient. Eyes closed, their coach looked like he was sleeping, but no one could still be out cold with Phitz prying their eyes open like he was. 

"Do you have any idea what you're doing?" Austen asked his friend, raising his eyebrows as he tucked  his hands in the pockets of his trousers, rocking back on his heels.

As he shrugged, Phitz lightly tapped Mr Irving on the cheek. As his slaps got rougher, Ms Smith grabbed his wrist.

"Eric!" she snapped, reefing him away from her colleague, "Stop."

"Who's Eric?"

Everyone glanced down in surprise as Mr Irving Groggily opened his eyes.They were crossed for a second, but he focused quickly and smiled.

Phitz coughed. "That's be me, Coach. Eric Phitz, been on your team all of three years, best stopper you've ever had. Now, could you tell me how many goals Austen here scored last season?"

"Is this really the time, Mr Phitz, to be asking inane football questions?" Ms Smith scolded, releasing his wrist and helping the struggling Mr Irving to sit up. Her hand rested on his elbow, and he placed his ontop, squeezing gently in thanks. She blushed brightly, withdrawing her hand and frowning at Phitz.

The teenager rolled his eyes, "I'm seeing if his head injury has resulted in, you know, memory loss and stuff."

Austen snapped his fingers, shaking his head with a playful smile. "So close to genius, Phitz, so close."

Ebony, pressed against the wall, bit her lip. "Closer than you." She didn't expect anyone to hear, but Austen turned to cast her a dazzeling, if disgruntled, smile.

His best friend drew his attention back: "Hey! I'm helping you too - talking about your successes in front of several fine ladies."

Finnegan snorted, and instantly regretted it as Carissa turned to him. "Want to get slapped, punch bag?"

"27."

It took him a while, but eventually Phitz realised what Mr Irving was talking about. He glanced at Austen, who was nodding.

"That's right." his friend confirmed.

"You know it!"

Austen snorted, "You're an idiot."

"That's what they tell me."

Mr Irving shook his head lightly at their antics, and recieved what felt like a lightning strike to the brain for his efforts. He groaned, and Ms Smith leant forward again.

"how do you feel?" she asked quietly, under the boys squabbling.

"Like someone knocked me out with a chair."

Finnegan blushed brilliantly, squatting down with a sheepish smile. The bruise across his face had darkened considerably, and his tongue flicked gently over his cut lip as he met Mr Irving's eyes.

"Sorry about that sir," he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck, "But in my defense, we thought you were a guy with a gun."

"Gun?" Austen and Phitz cried in sync, staring at Finnegan with wide eyes. Ebony was too surprised to respond, instead pressing both hands to the wall to keep herself from falling over. As Finnegan briefly relayed what they had seen out of the window, she turned, gently thumping her head against the surface.

On the 4th bump, something got between her head and the wall, and Austen let out a grunt. Opening her eyes, Ebony saw several tanned fingers, and rocked her head to the side to scowl at him. He cocked his head, waiting for an answer to the question his eyes offered. 

"only me," she sighed, turning away from him, "This could only happen to me."

He leant closer, until his mouth was right by her ear, and smiled as he whispered, "but it didn't happen to 'only you'."

Carrisa's eyes narrowed as she spotted Austen in the shadows, and she instantly began to tear up. "It was so horrible," she gushed, striding over to him, "I just didn't know what to do. But it's all ok now that you're here." She hauled him several steps away from the blushing Ebony, folding her arms around him as she sniffed.

Phitz smirked at his best friend, but, seeing his bemused expression, decided not to comment. "I'm still stuck ont he whole suit-wearing, gun-weilding fellows."

"Mr Irving and I saw them too," Salena commented quietly. He hands had finally fallen away from her face, and they now hung limply by her side. Phitz scrambled to his feet, eyeing her warily.

"Are you ok?" he asked, "You look like you're going to be sick."

Suddenly tired, she met his eyes. "Can anyone of you right now claim to be 'ok'? And keep a straight face, that is?"

Mr Irving took a deep breath. Gathering his feet under him, their Coach scrambled to his feet, bracing himself against the doorway. Finnegan grabbed the chair.

"Here," he said, offering him the weapon.

"I safer use, i'd think," Ms Smith commented with a soft smile, as, scowling, Mr Irving took sank onto it.

Witha nother deep breath, He raised his chin a fraction. "This is all some big mistake. There will be some reasonable explanation for this, i'm sure, we just don't know it at present." he forced a smile, "but we're together now, and we'll figure it out. We're together now, so we'll be fine."

A cold laugh echoed from the end of the hallway. "Oh, how wrong you are."