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Jack P.O.V

Jack couldn't believe the situation he was in.

There he sat, innocently minding his own business when he noticed the bag sitting beside an abandoned desk, almost like it was supposed to be there.

He recognized it immediately, a shock of fear running through him at the sight of it lying out in such a public place. What the fuck was it doing here, of all places?

If someone found that bag then they must know something about him. But the question was, how much did they know?

Because everyone has their secrets and their little stories to tell but Jack could write a book, maybe two, on all the bullshit he'd gone through in his lifetime. By this point he couldn't care less about what people thought of him.

In fact as the day had gone by he had noticed students stopping to stare as he walked through the corridors and teachers constantly whispering to each other while he did his work. Students were never really the most subtle creatures on the planet; so Jack figured out rumors were flying about him pretty early on.

Now the truth was, he didn't really give a flying fuck what any of these meaningless, self absorbed, arrogant people thought of him. But if any person, be they student, pupil or the fucking president, uttered a single goddamned word against his mother; he would cheerfully stuff the little bitch into a meat grinder and then feed the resulting slop to a pack of hungry dogs.

Safe to say he was just a tad protective over his family.

But then again, who could blame him?

Ever since he was 7 his ma was the only person he could turn too. She looked after him, cared for him, loved him like any parent should. She worked hard at her job and put up with his stupid questions which he asked every single day of the week.

Seriously, he was one annoying little shit.

Anyway, Jack was currently heading to his first ever American 'gym' class. He had only ever seen the hardcore American football teams and extremely energetic cheerleaders through the tv screen, normally heavily based on worn out stereotypes and mind numbing cliches. But this class was something he had been looking forward to about as much as he looked forward to seeing Jason again.

Yeah. That much.

He strode into the changing rooms, almost welcoming the pungent odor of sweat and body spray when it assaulted his nose as soon as he place one foot through the door. Inside other people in his class were already changing into their kit; a plain white shirt and some boring grey shorts. He vaguely recognized the boy who sat beside him in class yesterday as he walked in and a shot of guilt went through him at how much of an asshole he had been. It's not like he meant to do it. He just prefers to be alone.

Then he noticed something.

Not only was the guy holding Jack's bag. His private belongings. But he also held the note Jack had written on a whim and left on the empty desk, not long before class ended.

Well, this was interesting.

Looks like this guy wasn't as nice as he first appeared, Jack thought as he struggled to changed his shirt with one hand, trying to keep an eye on the dark haired boy at the other end of the room who obviously must've forgotten his kit or something because he wasn't making any attempt to change.

Suddenly the sound of a shrill, high pitched whistle broke through the muted sounds of low voices, echoing around the room in a harsh clash of noise that made Jack jump.

"Are you lot finished applying your makeup yet? Hurry up!" Came a gruff shout from the door that Jack could only assume lead to the gym hall. The group of grumbling boys, minus the dark haired boy with his bag Jack noticed, slowly plodded out of the dull changing rooms, Jack not far behind them, and into the brightly lit gym where a small group of girls and an extremely short man stood waiting for them.

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