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Homeroom. Nobody was paying attention.

Thursday mornings were staff meetings, which tended to linger on until well past halfway into homeroom class in the mornings. Especially as you got more and more into the term, and especially for the senior classes. They were meant to provide a 'structured learning environment' but most of the seniors saw it as an excellent opportunity to do whatever they wanted: go into other classrooms, do their homework, throw things across the room, play hangman using obscure sexual slang on the whiteboard. They even had those whiteboard markers that were scented to make you not want to sniff them, but people sniffed them anyway.

People visited other classrooms. Nobody really paid any attention to other boys going in and out, talking to their friends, copying off other people's homework, leaning around and chilling. Elzo wasn't really paying attention when somebody said, "Xanis," until added was -- "Xanis. Turn up your hearing aid, son," and lolling in the doorway was Jesse Alvarez and one of his goon squad. The shortie. At least it wasn't the psycho Italian.

Jesse was smiling in a frank, openhearted way, a piece of paper dangling in his hand as he sauntered to Elzo's desk. Elzo and Jesse loved each other not. Alvarez spent most of his time harrassing Simon Ferris like the bully he was, and his two friends -- Bryce and Davies -- weren't any better. Simon sometimes blanched just at the sight of them all walking down the corridor. Alvarez would extend one arm out casually as he walked by Ferris and clothesline him, crumpling Simon into an obtuse angle just because Simon didn't shuffle out the way.

But this morning he danced the square of paper in front of his face and said, friendly: "Ellie Spectre. Go you, child." (Jesse was in fact a year younger than Elzo and two years stupider.) "Do you know she asked me to give this to you personally? I said yes, like a pal."

This did not bode any better, as Ellie Spectre was Ellie Spectre. She was friends with Jesse Alvarez? Ugh.

"It wasn't anything," said Alvarez modestly. "The hard part's how he goes all soft when you hold him, kind of like he wants a nice cuddle. Here's your love letter, Romeo."

Elzo took the note and read it. It was merely:

HAPPY VALENTINES DAY, a*****e!

(Sic on the 'Valentine's.' That was Ellie all over.) Wait, so what was the --

Jesse's fist thundered hard into his abdomen. Elzo was well-built enough that his muscles flexed to take the blow, but it still jerked all of the air out his lungs like a suck'n'vac. Heads snapped up from the rest of the room. Jesse's compadre tensed but didn't join the dogpile; in fact, all Alvarez was doing was laughing his head off like he'd made the funniest joke. He pursed his lips and blew a kiss in his direction, then cracked up at that as if it was the icing on the Comedy Central cake.

When it came down to it, the most offensive thing was how shitty a comedian Jesse could be.

Jesse came down like a felled tree. His laughter quit on the way to the floor, where Elzo was already on him and one hand slammed up to his opponent's face. Jesse Alvarez was a notorious ear-biter, eye-poker, and -- yeah, there was the foot -- calf-scraper, already trying to roll over so that he was on top.

"This how you do it with your brother?" Alvarez didn't appear to be that disturbed. He liked a fight. He was also a notorious -- yep, headbutt.

In reality, he didn't think anything of it. Probably the only time he even liked Elzo Xanis was when they were trying to beat the s**t out of each other. It was like some kind of pastime. The hate and dislike came when Elzo opened his mouth, whereupon bullshit came out, whereupon Jesse was forced to put him on The List.

Why did he hang around Simon Ferris anyway? The kid was one of nature's punching bags.

The bets were not high. Elzo and Jesse probably would have argued that their violence was worth more than the highest-running bet of a quarter on Jesse -- the younger boy got uppercutted by a clean but neat punch aimed at his jaw -- now fifty cents on Elzo. Pocket change. Literal pocket change.

Cleveland hovered around the edges but didn't join in, his mouth drawn in a grim line as he watched Jesse smack the Xanis brother square in the mouth. "He ain't a druggie," came the kneejerk response, though it was a pretty stupid comeback when all was said and done. Jesse's lip had split open. One fist tangled in Elzo's hair to yank his head up, the back of his skull making a sharp THWOK! as it got smacked down into the crappy carpeting. "******** you, Xanis."

Again, typical banter. "Yeah, sorry I said you and your brother were gay." THWOK. "Ferris would get jealous, am I right?"

Just as an object thrown up must come down, Elzo Xanis' parted legs ended with Jesse Alvarez kneeing him in the balls. It was so habitual Jesse almost looked sorry about it. But he kneed him in the balls, hard, which lead to an involuntary oh! from every sympathetic boy watching. A teacher was shouldering through the bunch of them but it was too late (for Elzo Xanis' junk).

"Xanis! Alvarez!" It was the homeroom teacher. Mr. Morrison looked harrassed: standing next to him was, worst of all, Mr. Killingworth, who entered rooms like the Imperial March was about to play. Mr. Killingworth saw nothing wrong with lifting Jesse up bodily by the shoulder as people pried the two fighters apart, and kept his hand there despite an initial defiant shake on Jesse's part. "What the hell is going on here?"

"Jesse started it," said someone from the crowd.

"Yeah, I did," he said, brash with unrepentance -- was it fake? He was looking at Elzo with blood dripping from his mouth. "Whatever."

"Alvarez," said Mr. Killingworth, "you just goddamn love detention. You too, Xanis. Go to the nurse's office so I don't have to see you any more. I don't care who started what, you're both brainless idiots."