"Now, I don't wanna hear any…ifs, ands, buts, whines, complaints, or bitching of any kind when I say…dodgeball!"
Kabuto audibly groaned, then smirked at Tsunade. "What? You said nothing about groaning."
"Shut up, freshman," Tsunade barked, and a red rubber ball flew past Kabuto as the senior ducked the throw. "Split into two teams! Jocks versus nerds!"
"Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-ha!! Pump it, pump it!"
Kabuto sighed and grinned as Kisame practically made hangtime as he leapt into the air, screeching victoriously. He grabbed Kakuza, Hidan, and Itachi and bolted to one side of the gym. Kabuto walked over to the other side, knowing exactly what he qualified as. Although, for a stereotypical nerd, he considered himself to have a decent arm. Kabuto noticed most of the seniors heading over to the jock side, and the juniors looking around as if lost. So, they actually had a middle ground. That was rare. Finally, the rest of the class decided, and Tsunade dumped a bunch of red rubber balls in the middle of the floor.
Kabuto sprinted for a ball and launched it at a junior he didn't know across the room. Gym class might normally suck, but dodgeball was the only thing he was good at and he wanted to make it last. Ducking and weaving through the sea of red flying at his face with something resembling terminal velocity, Kabuto managed to gain back a few members of his team who had been hit with balls. Neji, who had crossed over to the jock side of the gym, seemed to be on a roll-he was firing left and right, and everyone was (rather pathetically) aiming for him. Kabuto picked up a ball, waited until Neji's back was half-turned, and let it fly. The ball hit, surprisingly, and Kabuto promptly picked up another.
Gym class had him seeing red for a week.
Hinata walked into English Lit. and sat down, and usual, in her seat on the side. But this time, Yamato wasn't there as usual. Hinata thought it was strange that he would be late; the bell had just rung, and Yamato was known for being on time. Just as Hinata was starting to question, Yamato walked in, panting a bit.
"Sorry I'm late," he said. "I had to stop someone for chewing gum. Hall duty in the other building. Now, we are in the middle of reading Medea, an ancient Greek play. So, who can tell me-who wrote this play?"
Sasuke walked in, muttering, "Some ancient Greek dude. Here's my excuse." He shoved a piece of paper at Yamato, waiting while the man looked it over and sighed.
"Sasuke, fighting? Must you? You have enough on your plate. I won't give you the points for being late, because I know you are going through so much, but please, try to keep it under control." Yamato handed Sasuke back the paper with the points on it, watching as the teen sat down, a thundercloud hovering over his head. The teacher sighed and leaned on his desk, searching for a pen. He scribbled something down on a piece of paper, then stood up straight again and faced the class.
"So, can I get a name on who wrote Medea?"
Temari walked into French class with little enthusiasm.
Konan was pretty good as far as teachers went, but frankly, her class was boring. Temari was good at French, and could speak it well. She had been told she was a natural, and that she had a talent for the language. Temari couldn't see where it came from, but she took the praise politely and gratefully. Temari sat down in her desk in the back and took out her notebook, setting it on her desk and rooting around in her backpack for a pen. Finding one, she set this on the desk as well and began absently doodling on the cover of her notebook until class started. The rest of the class trickled in slowly, and finally, the bell rang. Konan stepped up the front of the room and tapped lightly on the board with her nails.
"Here is the assignment for tonight. Copy it down, and then take out your homework."
Temari flipped her notebook to the page she had done her homework on and waited. She had already scribbled down tonight's homework on the next page. Konan walked by, briefly checking everyone' homework as they copied down the homework for tonight. Finally, she nodded in satisfaction and returned to the front of the room. The class began, and Temari shortly afterward zoned out. So bored…but, as Konan turned to write something on the board, a wad of paper hit Temari in the side of the head. The blonde caught it as it fell, opening it quickly underneath her notebook. It was a note from Kin, across the room. It read: let's go to the mall tomorrow. Okay with you? We can see a movie.
Temari wrote a response and waited until Konan had turned around again to heave the paper ball across the room. Kin read the response Temari had written and smiled. Sure. Sounds good. Let's see Kung Fu Panda.
Kin caught Temari's eye and nodded, and Temari smiled and nodded in return. The two passed French class much the same way, throwing paper balls across the room, much to the amusement of most of the class.
Study period could probably be called "nap period" for most.
Kisame had study right after gym, so he usually took a nap to replenish his energy. He needed it to shove so many nerds into lockers. Itachi did all the homework he normally planned to blow off, and Kakuza counted the lunch money he had stolen. Hidan napped as well, or cut himself.
But today was different.
Now, every Akatsuki member in the study period was clustered around one table, whispering and writing things down. They were plotting to break Itachi out and run him into Canada. But, of course, this would be no easy task, even for Akatsuki. And so, study period became plot period.
"Okay, so if we sneak him the gun from here, no one should see. Or, we could hide it in something and give it to him that way. I'm thinkin' a turkey sandwich."
Hidan received a smack to the back of the head for his genius.
"Goddammit, Hidan, did you fall off the top of the school sometime when you were a baby?" Kakuza sneered. "Because I think something got knocked loose in there. You lose too much blood cutting last night?"
Hidan sighed and rolled his eyes. "Hey, it might work. We just bring in a bag of sandwiches, and act like we're sharing lunch. Or we could just do this under-the-shirt."
Kisame rolled his eyes. "I like the sandwiches better," he said dryly. "They tend to do strip searches in jails."
"But we're not the ones getting booked!" Hidan whined. "We can pull it off!"
"Dumbshit!" Kakuza hissed. "Don't you know when to shut up?"
Hidan saucily shook his head, and Kakuza sighed. "Look, we had better get crackin' on this. Itachi's not getting any younger, and he's one of our best members. Plus, It's a lot of fun hitting him in the face during gym class."
"That's you," Kisame dryly pointed out.
Hidan sighed. "Feels good," he muttered, but bent over to see Kisame's rough diagram of a jail. "Wassat?"
"Here are the holding cells. Warden's desk. Guards. Fencing. Entrance. Visitor cells. The middle ground. Now, they might have a GPS or something on him, so Hidan, I'm making it your job to get a jammer. Kakuza, get him his phone. That way if we need to run, we can do it and still have a general idea of what's going on. Also, bring something that breaks metal quickly and cleanly. There will be handcuffs involved. Each of us will bring a gun. Hand revolver. Where baggy jeans that hide plenty. And Sasori can bring the knives…and possibly poison. Deidara can bring a firecracker, or fireworks or something. Something to scare them off long enough to run. I'll have Zetsu bring a few smoke bombs, maybe. And then we should be prepared. If the guards open fire, throw a hand revolver to Itachi and let him take aim. He's best with the smaller ones, but he's deadly with 'em. Amazing aim. Sasori is good with the knives, so make sure he gets one. Deidara does something wonderful with bombs, so give him a few smoke bombs and the fireworks. We're not looking to go for lasting damage here, so I'm going easy. Now, questions?"
Hidan slowly raised his hand.
"Can I still bring sandwiches?"
Itachi stood next to the guard who had his arm in a vice-like grip, shifting his weight from foot to foot and staring around, bored. He had been waiting for a few minutes now, and he was getting bored very, very quickly. He had done this before, and the apprehension of the interrogation, the booking, and the mug shots meant nothing to him anymore. What was this, the third time? Fourth? Arrested so far for-
A policeman strode in from the doorway across the room, clipboard in hand and staring at Itachi with a tired look of something resembling disgust. "D.U.I., shoplifting a gun shop, gang activity, vandalism, stealing a car, trafficking illegal items, specifically guns and drugs, and breaking out of jail every single time." The policeman looked up, arching one eyebrow in Itachi's direction. He was a man in his fifties, but somehow still in shape and well-muscled. He had brown hair, black eyes, and a square-set face with a firm leonine jaw and a sharp nose. He had heavy brow ridges and piercing eyes that stared Itachi down as if staring down his nose at a disobedient child. "Care to explain yourself this time?"
"And this is old hat to you, huh? Well, you know what's going on. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be provided for you. Are you aware of and understand these rights?"
Itachi sighed. "Yep. Now, strip search or mug shot first this time?"
"Get a grip, smart ass," the policeman growled, setting his clipboard down on the desk on the right side of the room. "Strip search first. Although, with that get-up, we might have arrested you for prostitution as well."
Itachi glared, and promptly spat into the policeman's eye. The man lunged forward, punching Itachi hard across the face. Itachi, held in place by the policeman behind him, couldn't do much but roll with the blow a bit. He kicked out viciously, and soon found himself face down on the ground. Itachi sighed and went limp: that usually worked, as policemen took it as a sign of submission. Sure enough, Itachi was released and hauled to his feet, then shoved into a separate room with no windows, not even on the door. Itachi stumbled forward, being pushed so hard. The policeman stepped forward, unlocked the handcuff from Itachi's wrists, stepped back, and ordered: "Strip. Completely. And take out that hair tie."
Itachi gave the guard a look of bitter, vengeful contempt, but slowly began pulling off his clothes. He stood naked, spreading his arms and giving another dirty glare. The policeman crossed his arms.
"Bend over and shake out your hair."
Itachi sighed and did so, letting a knife slip from where his ponytail would normally be. The guard picked it up and stepped back again, and Itachi went through the entire strip search without a word and a lot of filthy looks. He had forked over several more knives and a gun from his shorts before the entire search was over, and finally, he was declared clean. Itachi put his own clothes back on, still glaring at the guard. Ah, well. At least his yearbook pictures came before his mug shot this year. One year, he missed the pictures because he was in jail. That was…oh, what charge was it? Oh, right-that was driving drunk in a stolen car. It was fun, though, and really worth the trip in and out. It was almost as fun getting out as getting in that time, as well. Can someone say joyride? Itachi found himself in a daydream as his sixth mug shot was taken, and then walked down the entire hallway to the holding cells still in the same fog.
He had money that said he would be out again in days. And, if Kisame was in charge, in Canada in a week.
A/N: Review and give me your guess for Itachi's break-out time!