My Little Lesbean™

1: "I'm gay."

"There are many, many theories out there."

History class was always a bore. What made it worse was that it was the first thing in their schedule. The three of them sat in the back at the same table, by themselves. The Cuban had his head rested on his arms, his eyes closed and drool dripping onto the table of a desk from his slightly opened mouth. The Samoan stared at the teacher with droopy eyes, resting his cheek in his hand and not actually paying any attention. Then there was the short geek sitting in between them, nearly half their height which caused for an easy mistaking of a middle schooler in the wrong building, who was tapping a pencil on the desk while staring the teacher down through round glasses covering brown eyes.

The teacher could clearly see them, his broad shoulders slumping a bit since he knew at least half of the first period class was asleep, but he kept a smile on his face. He ran a hand through his bleached white bangs, then scratching the buzz-cut black hair behind his ear and continuing with his lecture.

"Correct me if I'm wrong," the teacher politely said, meeting the geek's eyes. His face dropped, regret finally painting his face as the geek's eyes sparkled. He cleared his throat and continued anyway. "The expedition was unsuccessful due to the pilot's inability to steer clear of a black hole."

The geek's little, pale arm shot into the air.

The teacher sighed. "What is it, Pidge?"

"Actually, the expedition failed because the spaceship got torn apart by the black hole's force since they miscalculated the exact perimeters of the hole."

The entire class groaned as the geek stood up, despite the Samoan lightly tugging on the green sleeve at the top of the pale arm with a stern look. The geek took in a deep breath before continuing.

The entire period was wasted, Pidge going on about the Hanson Holt Expedition of '97.

"I'm surprised you still go on about these expeditions so easily," the Cuban yawned insensitively as the three made their way down the hallway.

The Cuban received a roll of the eyes. "The '97 expedition had no one in the ship, Lance. The teacher should know these things if he's supposed to be teaching us."

The Cuban rolled his eyes too. "You just like being right."

"Being right isn't a bad thing. You should do it more," Pidge snapped back.

"It's too early for this," the Samoan groaned, running his hand over his sleep-deprived expression.

"Hunk! I just got insulted and all you do is groan? I'm thoroughly hurt." The Cuban made everything dramatic; that was nothing new.

"Lance, just leave Pidge alone," the Samoan sighed, shifting narrowed eyes towards him.

"What?! How is this on me?!" Lance exclaimed, offended.

Hunk exhaled deeply, his shoulders slumping as he looked forward again. "Why are Friday's so annoying?" he muttered.

"Because the weekend's only a few hours away," Pidge pointed out.
"Thanks for that, Little Pigeon," Lance sarcastically stated.

Pidge shot narrowed eyes in his direction. "Don't call me that."

"What should I call you instead? Should I go back to using Lesbean?" Lance shot back.

A binder flew past him, all three pairs of eyes following it as it soared past the side of Lance's ear and directly towards their principal as he passed by.

Pidge had been to the principal's office way too many times. Being dragged by the arm, holding the thrown binder under the other, the principal brought Pidge into the office next to the principal's office—the office labeled Assistant Principal Janice Haggar.