Miss Stein raises an eyebrow, "You're really going to go all year without a reading group?"

"Yes."

"And why, dare I ask?"

"It's private."

Miss Stein rolled her eyes, "Fine, fine. I guess you don't mind figuring out your assignment on your own, too."
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Miss Stein dropped a piece of paper on my desk, and then began walking around to other students.

I quickly read over the sheet of paper; at a glance, it appears to be a brief description of America in the 1920s, though some of the terms are a bit confusing without prior knowledge about the time period. The paper seems to assume that the reader has had eight years of experience with United States history; someone really should have told it to not make assumptions when coming into contact with the enemy.

While I'm trying to make sense of it, I overhear Miss Stein talking to the class; "Alright, this isn't for a grade. We're just trying to gauge the reading level of the class. Are there any questions?"

One kid raises there hand, "Why isn't Mrs. Dow teaching?"

"Mrs. Dow is resting; as student council president, I'm taking over her duties temporarily."

"Since when does the student council president do that?"

"Please don't ask any questions not directly related to the assignment." Deflected like a pro. It appears our substitute teacher has some experience with talking with groups; it's possible she has led teams in the past, or has been a representative for someone else. Either way, someone worth watching.
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I try in vain to understand what the paper is talking about. As far as I can tell, in the 1920s there was a warlord named Al Capone, who had invented a new poison and used it to hold his city at ransom, and then forced the inhabitants to begin acting in ways not typical in American society at the time, like forcing them to go to dance halls and listening to jazz; these poor unfortunate souls were known as Flappers. It all culminated when federal agents conducted a raid on his secret bunker and stole his tax information, and then they put him on an island where prisoners were forced to fight for survival. Al Capone finally died when a fellow inmate beat him to death at a tea party with a baseball bat.

As far as American history went, it wasn't the most brutal thing I'd heard of them doing; though it was odd that they were open about it. That was somewhat out of character. I write such thoughts on the open space beside the prompt; or try to, at least. The pens are as awkward to hold as ever.

"You sure you don't need help, ${mr} Hardcase?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, for starters, your holding that pen so tightly your going to break it as soon as you try to write anything."

"I have extras."
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"Look, I get it, you want to be tough and all. But there comes a time in everyone's life that they need to admit they don't know everything. How about you swallow your pride and just let me help you out."
*fake_choice
	#I don't need help
		*set lucy_stein -5
		It's not pride; I'm just not in the habit of pushing my problems onto other people, and I'm not going to start now. I'm not going to put myself in a position where I need someone's help and can't get it. I've always gotten by because I can help myself.

		Miss Stein sighs, "Fine, whatever. You can keep doing you."

		She doesn't bother me again.
	#Fine
		*set combat -1
		*set firearms -1
		There's no harm in accepting help when you actually need it. It's no different than relying on Daniel to make sure the refridgerator is stocked; I can't do it, and trying to will just cause more problems. It's better to leave these kinds of problems to the people who have been doing them their entire lives.

		With my permission, Miss Stein takes a look at my paper and immediately gets a puzzled look on her face, "Okay; so, first of all, let's review what we learned in 5th grade history..."
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About a dozen pens later, and I'm finally done.

"What do I do with this?" I ask her

"Here, I'll collect them," she takes my paper then stands up, "I guess you can just wait there until the end of the hour." A simple enough assignment.
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While I'm waiting patiently, I watch the student council president going around the room and taking the papers of the other students. The majority of them seem to have accepted her role as their commanding officer; perhaps it is the title of student council president, but it seems more likely that her demeanor is one that inspires respect in people that talk to her and thus they merely assume she has power over them. Then again, power assumed is very rarely different than actual power, if everyone agrees that someone has it.

And when someone assumes power then there will always be someone who challenges it.
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*goto_scene 1-8fifth-4