fandomhigh | Interdisciplinary Studies or whatever, Class 5, Wednesday, Period 5

Last week's class was in the Danger Room, which was set up to LOOK like the camp gym. This week's class was actually in the camp gym. This may cause some confusion.

But if it causes anyone to be late, Squall will be angry.

Since he'd been there for a while, Squall was passing the time by shooting jump shots from half court. He made more of them than he missed. And there was a big blue net bag full of more basketballs leaning against the bleachers.

Guess what today's lesson is about?

When everyone had arrived, Squall tossed out the sign-in clipboard. "Anyone who calls me 'Stormy' gets detention," he informed them. "Now. The last few classes have been all about important stuff that might mean the difference between life and death." He shrugged. "They won't, because we don't have enough time per class to really teach anything useful, but I can hope, right? So today you're getting a break. This is something that's very socially important to learn, because if you don't know it, you're a lame-ass loser."

"Think fast." He chucked the basketball at the students.

"So. Today we're learning how to play basketball." Squall shrugged and handed out... uh. handouts. "There are rules. There are specific and complicated rules, and stuff. But we're not going to worry about technicalities. This is a friendly game." He smirked, and grabbed another ball from the bag. "You'll divide up into two teams. The object is to get the ball through the hoop at the other end of the court. Two points for that. Three if you can do it from behind the big swoopy line. When you have the ball you HAVE to always be dribbling" -- which he demonstrated. "If you stop dribbling, you can't move and you have to pass to someone else. That's pretty much it."

He scratched his head, trying to remember if there was anything else. "Oh, yeah. Fouls are bad. Don't foul anyone."

He kicked the bag so that it fell over and balls started rolling out. "Grab a ball. Practice dribbling, practice shooting. If you want, pair up and practice passing. Passing's important, unless your teammates suck."

When that had gone on for a while, he blew a whistle loudly and called them all back.

"Okay, now divide up and play a game. Shirts verse skins. If anyone wants to be skins but doesn't want to take their shirt off, wear one of these." He held up a bunch of 4XL pink t-shirts.

"I'll be the referee. Good luck."

[Wait for OCD or whatever]

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"..S'okay," Setsuna said, quietly, after a moment. She looked at Alphonse with one eye slid shut judgingly. "Any other things that I supposedly named or did that I should be aware of?"

"No, no! T-that was it!"

Setsuna studied him for a moment longer. "Okay," she decided. "I made brownies for you, by the way. They're in my room. I think that they played a significant factor in persuading your brother that I'm not at fault for the Cuddles Situation."

Alphonse looked surprised at her. "Brownies? Really?"

"Mmhm." Blushing a little, Setsuna bowed her head a bit to hide the small smile. "Using the recipe we perfected last summer. I thought...I mean...the thought just kind of struck me and stuck with me until I was in the common room, baking and stuff..."

"O-oh. You... didn't have to, but thank you."

"I know I didn't have to," Setsuna said, with a small laugh. "But I wanted to. And you're welcome."

"Here," Alphonse tossed the ball he still held back towards Setsuna, without the same force she delivered it to him with. "Think you might need this back."

Setsuna caught it easily, with a small smile. "Thanks. You know, Edward, the first version here, said I threw like a girl..." She gave Alphonse a wry smirk. "Was he right?"

Alphonse made a slight face at that. "I wouldn't say that," he answered, rubbing at his chest a little. "That would've hurt a lot more if I hadn't noticed at all."

"Sorry," Setsuna said, head ducking again. "Could be worse, though. This could be my ninja-ing class..."

"Ah... I hope you don't actually throw things at each other in there."

"In practise, no," Setsuna said. "But, in theory, that's kind of the point."

"Um, yeah," Of course. That was the point of having most weapons. "Buuut I'd rather get hit by a basketball."

"Start accepting the blame for Cuddle's name," Setsuna said, mostly teasing, "and you won't have to get hit with anything."

"I-- I will!" Alphonse assured her. "That's the only time I will and have blamed anyone else."

Setsuna sighed, idly started to dribble the ball a little. "Lucky me..."

Alphonse crossed his arms. "He's the one who asked if you did," he said. And wasn't at all trying to move at least some of the blame to Edward. Really.

"Wait. What?"

"Brother asked me if it was you who named him," Alphonse explained, then added a bit more sheepishly. "... And I said yes."

Setsuna facepalmed. The ball bounced to a roll at her feet. "Oi. Alphonse..."

Alphonse paused, then uncrossed his arms and hid them behind his back. "... This entire thing is stupid, I know," he admitted.

"On the other hand," Setsuna said, shaking her head, "I suddenly feel strangely honoured that you'd be willing to make it look like I was important enough to name your cat, which is just..." Blush. "Silly...Because I didn't, and at the time, I'm sure you were thinking more of bailing yourself out than anything like that...."

"Aaah..." Yeah, she was right, but Alphonse felt like too much of an idiot right now to admit that. "... Ha, ha... Well, um, no harm done, right?"

"Yeahhh," Setsuna agreed, reluctantly. "No harm done."

Who was she kidding? She couldn't stay mad at Alphonse, even if that was pretty lame.

Interdisciplinary Studies or whatever, Class 5, Wednesday, Period 5

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