It All Started in Detention

Chapter Nine

"There's literally no difference", Blink argued, and Finch scoffed in what seemed to be offense. Jack wasn't exactly sure yet, but still hoping it'd turn into a fight.

"Grunge isn't punk", Finch stated sternly, and Jack cursed in disappointment. This wasn't anything to fight about. "Nirvana is grunge, and, like, Green Day is punk rock. There's a clear difference."

"No, there isn't! It's basically the same thing." Jack watched as Henry shook his head in disappointment, knowing that he was going to be the one hearing his boyfriend going on and on about this conversation later. "It's all the same clothing."

"I am literally going to slap you", Finch threatened, making the other boys laugh. "Maybe you'll get some common sense for once."

"Finch is right, Kid, grunge is different than punk", Jack admitted with his characteristic smile, one that made Finch think he was on their side. He wanted to add something else—to start a riot—but Specs beat him to it.

"Grunge is more serious than punk", they explained, and Blink nodded like he was listening. "Punk is more "Fuck you and what others have to say" and grunge is, like, the same, but...emo?"

"You just insulted my entire being", Henry joked, making his friends snicker. He turned to Blink. "It's basically that sentence except punk does it with a smile."

"Ah, I see", Blink says, and he looked like a pirate detective while saying it. "So grunge is like", he furrowed his brows, "fuck you, and punk is like", he smiled, "fuck you."

"Exactly", Finch grinned, and Jack wondered why he was so happy about Blink figuring something out. They shouldn't be surprised or pleased since it's commonplace, with Blink being as oblivious as a stone. "You've got it."

"One of you is missing." Jack raised a brow at Crutchie's statement, realizing that he'd just arrived. "And Jack is suspiciously quiet."

"What do you mean, I just spoke?" He wasn't exactly eager to play Crutchie's guessing game, but he knew it was inevitable (and helpful, at times).

"Where's the red one?" Crutchie placed his tray onto the table and sat beside Elmer, who was busy completing a few assignments they'd missed. "He's disappeared."

"Albert went home", Race informed casually, not to say anyone was surprised. Albert always skipped school, and since he and Race have every class together, the blond just tells all of their teachers that he's in the restroom. "He left his hearing aids this morning because he woke up late. He promised he'd be back, though."

"Understandable, now", Crutchie looked at his older brother—glaring, really—and quickly asked, "Why so quiet, Jackson?"

"Because you're so uninteresting, I'd rather talk to a wall", Jack fired, and Crutchie threw a spork at him. "I'm sorry. But I just don't feel like talking. I got a lot on my mind."

It's true, he did. There was this morning's breakfast for one, how Medda took them to IHOP for no reason. And having to meet up with Mr. Wiesel this morning to discuss his failing grade (partly Weasel's fault, partly his own). And Davey Jacobs.

Davey Jacobs was on his mind.

"Is something bothering you?" Jack never found it weird how Crutchie was able to slip from accusatory and annoying to sympathetic and annoying, he was just used to it. Maybe he even appreciated it every once in a while. "Do I need to beat someone with my crutch?"

Jack nearly choked on his spit. "I'm sorry?"

"Nothing. Now, about Tessa Collins-"

"Dude, you promised you would stop using that as a weapon!" Jack tan a hand through his hair dramatically, as if he was a worried mother discussing her life choices. "I can't believe you, Crutchie. What am I gonna tell Medda?"