Eeep. Okay, it's 12:21pm, and I have a CRAP load to write! Let's get to page 4! One, two, three, GO!

Carlos furiously spun at the dial on his locker, trying to get the stinking thing open for the nineteenth time. It just wouldn't click! After getting terribly lost and turned around, he had finally found the stupid hunk of aluminum, but it wouldn't come undone! All he wanted to do was grab his lunch and go to the cafeteria. At least he knew where that was…

The first day of middle school was honestly killing Carlos. He didn't know how to get from class to class, he was walking in awkwardly late, and everyone else seemed to know exactly what they were doing! All he wanted to do was be back in elementary school where there were two floors and every subject was in the same classroom.

Things were not made better when he compared schedules with his friends, only to realize they didn't have any classes together. Carlos felt incredibly lonely. Why couldn't this just be easy? The highlighted and color-coded map clenched in his hand wasn't doing him any good, and somehow the numbers for his locker code must have gotten confused because it wouldn't open. He kicked at the thin metal door, and luckily, a teacher poked their head out of their classroom.

"Hey, kid! Are you okay?" the man asked, and Carlos shook his head, feeling extremely stupid and dense. He realized that, as a teacher, the older dude probably had dealt with a million kids stupider than him, but that didn't make Carlos feel any smarter. He punched at his locker a bit.

"No, I can't get my locker open," he said, holding his paper out to the man. The teacher read it, a bit of a frown prominent on his face as he looked from the locker to his slip and back again. He hummed.

"That's because you're at the wrong locker. Your's is down that hallway," he said, pointing, and Carlos could actually feel himself deflating. No! Are you kidding? Lunch was probably almost over, and he had missed it because he had been trying to open the wrong locker all this time! He honestly at this point wanted to just fall to his knees and cry.

This sucked.

"Okay, thank you," he said quietly, taking his very wrinkled locker slip back and walking over to the place where the teacher had gestured. Once again, he found what he thought was his locker and tried the dial. It opened on the first try. He took out all of his binders and folders and stuffed them into his backpack, not planning on coming back to the dumb thing again.

Carlos wasn't happy with middle school. From what he could tell, it was a whole lot stricter than elementary school, so he naturally wasn't a fan. Also, it seemed like a whole lot more work. Carlos wasn't big on the whole 'school' concept in the first place, but he still didn't want more homework to not do. Ugh, no thank you.

He didn't like his teachers. Carlos was accustomed to sweet old ladies. These were not sweet old ladies. They were weird, and different, and intent on 'preparing him for high school'. Carlos didn't need to be ready for high school! He just had to be ready for tomorrow!

And he wasn't ready for tomorrow. He didn't know where he was going or what his schedule was… Why did everything have to be so complicated? And why did it only seem this complicated for him? Carlos could honestly tear his hair out, he was so frustrated.

And recess! There was no recess. What was a man supposed to do without recess?

Carlos looked at his watch, glad he had worn it, and realized that he had been right. In five minutes, lunch would be over, so there was no point in walking down. He sighed, trudging over to an empty desk left out in the hall, sat down, and ate his lunch.


Finally, finally, Carlos made it to the bus. Only twenty minutes of stop and go traffic, and he would finally be home. He could actually sing… but that didn't mean Carlos wasn't still upset. In fact, far from it. He was depressed, and angry, and upset, and frustrated, and… Carlos just wanted to be home. He didn't want to go to school tomorrow. He just wanted to be home.

He was admittedly sulking in his seat, arms sticking to the pleather backing of the chair, when Kendall walked onto the bus. He could tell by the arched eyebrow that the blond could read his face like a book, and Carlos looked to his toes, not wanting to talk about it. Ugh, why couldn't Kendall just go away?

The leader of the town's famous foursome sat down next to him, and Carlos could feel his eyes on him, the other boy's arm hot on his own as the two boys squeezed into the seat. The action was made difficult due to Carlos's backpack crammed between himself and the window.

"Yo, bro. Are you okay?" Kendall asked, even though they both knew that he knew the answer to the question. Carlos lied anyway.

"Yes," he answered and there was a long awkward pause. Now what? Carlos was obviously upset, but he had just made it clear that he didn't want to talk about it, so what was he supposed to do now? He rubbed his ankle with his foot and waited for Kendall to say something. He was still waiting when a candy wrapper was shoved in his face. "Gah!" he yelped, jumping back, and Kendall looked at him, alarmed.

"Dude, calm down, and eat the chocolate!" he told him, grabbing his hand, uncurling his fist, and sticking the candy inside. "You look like you could use it," Kendall told him, and Carlos looked up at him, eyes wide with wonder. He unwrapped the Hershy's, it somewhat melt-y from the unusually hot September day, and practically ate it whole. Kendall smiled. "Good job," he told him, and Carlos couldn't help but grin a bit.

Okay, yes. Middle school sucked.

But his friends were definitely awesome.

Bwahaha! DONE! Okay, I know, not exactly what I feel like everyone else is writing, but I felt like sixth grade fluff was a good way to go. BTW, this actually happened to me. The wrong locker thing that is. No one gave me chocolate… Oh, and my friend was with me…

There. That was good. i've been wanting to write this for awhile.

Written for BTR One Shot Day! February 6th!