𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐀𝐍 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 ━ shawn hunter¹

20│POP QUIZ

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❛ ᴏᴄᴇᴀɴ ᴇʏᴇꜱ​​​​​​​​​​. ❜ ° . ༄
- ͙۪۪˚   ▎❛ 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘 ❜   ▎˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
»»————- ꒰ ᴘᴏᴘ ǫᴜɪᴢ ꒱


❝ I'M SO PROUD OF YOU! ❞

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Juliet jogged backwards slightly as she cheered on Shawn and Cory in their mock-football game. The latter was doing a running commentary: "Steve Young takes the snap. Jerry Rice goes long. He throws a perfect sixty yard pass and hits—" He paused to throw the ball as Shawn ran in front of the bathroom but Cory missed. "A blue 1995 Buick Regal."

"Run!" Shawn exclaimed as he grabbed the redhead's hand and tugged her away from Frankie.

Glancing over her shoulder once they'd gotten far enough away, Juliet saw that they weren't being followed. "They're not moving!"

"Maybe they lapped us," the dark-haired boy offered.

Cory approached them. "Uh, Frankie, Joey, I realize it's none of my business why you're not beating us up, but why aren't you beating us up?"

They didn't answer and just stared down at a piece of paper.

"Maybe they don't understand," Shawn suggested.

"I'll translate," Juliet said before she put on a New York accent: "why ain't you poundin' us to a pulp?"

Still nothing. Shawn stepped forward. "Here, let me try," he took Frankie's arm and mimed punching. "Hey! Why no this. . ."

"Sorry, the thrill is gone," Frankie told them.

"Too bad. What have you got there?"

"It's a letter from Harley Keiner," Joey answered sadly.

"Harley knows how to write a letter?" Juliet commented, genuinely surprised.

"It's okay, Joey," Frankie said to his friend.

"How's Harley doing in his new reform school?" Shawn asked.

"It's called juvenile boot camp," Frankie corrected him, "and he loves it, thank you very much."

Joey started to get choked up. "He never wants to come home. He doesn't say it here but I think he's got a new gang."

Juliet rolled her eyes. "I'm sure no one can replace you two."

"You don't get it, Red. We're lackeys. We're hangers-on with nothing to hang on to," Joey explained.

"Come on, Joey, we might as well go to class," Frankie said, and he picked up his smaller friend.

"It's come to this," he whimpered as they walked down the hall.

"Okay, we're back, live," Cory announced, resuming his commentator voice. "Second half. Steve Young back to pass."

"Jerry Rice is open!" Shawn called over Juliet's enthusiastic cheers. "He throws!"

"And it's intercepted!" Juliet finished as Mr. Feeny caught the ball.

"By Feeny," Shawn said.

"The wily veteran," their teacher added.

"I stink," Cory sighed.

"I agree. Have you seen your latest test score? If Mr. Matthews stinks, you, Mr. Hunter, are as odoriferous as a dead man in July."

Shawn glanced at the redhead as she hid a smile behind her hand. "A twelve," he read the score. "How do you get a twelve?"