Although, Hayner had to admit that there was a certain advantage in having his note intercepted by one of Seifer's gang, instead of Seifer himself..
Roses are red, violets are blue.
I don't know what we're doing. Do you?
"Oww," said Pence, rubbing the back of his head with an injured air. Hayner's note had flown wide of its target, and very nearly slipped down his shirt. He should've played darts more in the summer. His aim was way off.
Ah, just his luck - Fuu was seated next to Pence, and had seen the paper. Now he was going to get in trouble with the teacher for writing a note, or just for not having understood the stupid assignment in the first place. She reached for the paper, delicately lifting it off of the collar of Pence's shirt...
The teacher turned from writing instructions on the board, and looked at Fuu, whose hand was still on Pence's back.
"Lint," Fuu explained blandly, patting Pence's shirt down. "Carry on."
"..please," she added as an afterthought.
The teacher finally shrugged and resumed his outline. Pence, however, looked at her strangely, but she stared back until he had turned back to his textbook.
Okay, so she hadn't turned him in... yet. Although, there was a certain advantage in having his note intercepted by one of Seifer's gang, instead of Seifer himself. Olette had the privilege of dealing with him in another class. ('AP Language Arts,' he had scoffed when they had first gotten their schedules. 'Who needs it. Other than Olette,' he had hastily amended, after she had very nearly hit him for making fun of her favourite class.)
Hayner groaned, softly, and buried his head in his arms.
Something hit him on the head and fell onto his desk -- a paper airplane, made of blue-lined notebook paper, folded crisply. He unfolded it.
Roses are red, but also pink.
We're doing haikus, not poems.
Don't you ever think?
It was longer than one word. It was longer than two words. It was, if he had counted right, fifteen words long. And yet, the handwriting was decidedly feminine, and decidedly Fuu's.
He turned to look at her, but she was staring out the window.
Oblivious to the shocking realization that Fuu not only paid attention in class but also knew how to use more than one word at a time; the teacher continued his lecture about seasons, and how to put them in a poem without being too obvious. Okay, not a poem, if Fuu's note were anything to go by, but a haiku. As if there was a difference.
Either way, he figured he'd better try to write something before the period was over; otherwise, he'd really be in trouble. He discreetly opened up his notebook, copied down the first few instructions from the blackboard - what a pattern that was, 5-7-5, like his house number - and chewed on his eraser a few times.
Gee, Fuu, this is true
I'd be doomed without a friend
who was just like you.
The look on her face when he read it out loud to the class was worth /everything/.
Originally written for kh_drabble, over on Livejournal.