Iori knew it had been a bad dream the moment he felt cold sweat in his bed that morning.

What he couldn't figure out, or rather, understand, was why it happened in the first place. He couldn't even remember what scared him so badly that made him want to come back to reality.

Iori wasn't a religious person, only ever going to church with his family on special occasions—and that was before him and his older brother joined IDOLiSH7–but that Monday morning, as he woke up to feel his muscles tensed and his breath shaking, he felt inclined to make a small prayer before leaving for school.

Breakfast wasn't much help, either. The only person at the kitchen counter was Nanase-san while Osaka-san prepared his morning coffee in the kitchen. The two young adults greeted Iori, like the usual routine, but unlike them, he felt lingering tension that seemed to bother only him.

He sat next to Nanase-san, waiting for the generous Osaka-san to pour him some milk, but as he did so, the red-head kept spinning his tea. He had been apparently drinking a new tea that Rokuya-san had recommended to him, but Iori didn't care about that as much as he did about the tiny, yet annoying clashing noises that came from Nanase-san's spoon slightly touching the internal mug every spinning round.

Iori wanted to break the glass's screeches, to stop Nanase-san's waving hand, but he didn't want to cause a scene, especially in front of Osaka-san.

Yotsuba-san had walked right in when Iori thought he was going to lose it, calling out the usual "Sou-chan," "Rikkun," and the name Iori so dreaded: "Iorin." Nanase-san stopped spinning his tea at that point, getting up from his seat to help make Yotsuba-san's breakfast. Osaka-san set Iori's mug down lightly on the countertop before sending him a smile, and while Iori felt relief for a split second (no more spoon noises), the ever-growing fear of something for some reason flourished even more as he saw Yotsuba-san direct his conversation with Nanase-san to Osaka-san. The three were bickering about an issue on breakfast, Iori only making out the words, "no...pudding...breakfast."

Iori blocked himself from the conversation, and as the minutes passed, he unconsciously ate the breakfast that had appeared without him realizing it. Now, it wasn't that he had been scared or was feeling scared; he just couldn't understand why he was feeling tense, why he had to keep reassuring himself to not be terrified. His mind searched for causes of the situation, but nothing seemed clear to him. He knew he just had a bad dream, but what exactly happened?

He finished his breakfast faster than usual, and before he knew it, he and Yotsuba-san were walking out the door to school. He didn't bother telling Yotsuba-san because even Iori had too much pride to admit he was fearing something.

No, not fearing. Just questioning.

Iori pushed aside his worries over a worthless dream and instead, focused on Yotsuba-san's own stupid dream. Apparently, he had dreamt of being in a pudding-eating contest, and according to Yotsuba-san, another participant had barely passed for first place. Yotsuba-san kept ranting about how he had deserved first place, but Iori kept telling him that 1) it was a dream and 2) he just had to accept that someone else so happened to be better than him.

Yotsuba-san couldn't accept defeat, however, claiming that the final scoring must have been a result of a Deux ex machina. Not wanting to lose brain cells from the idiotic conversation, Iori shut off the topic and the two ended up talking about some other stuff that he stopped paying attention to after a while. It was all meaningless talk in the end, anyway.

Stepping in at the school entrance fueled Iori's tension once again as he heard students from different grades complaining about unwanted assignments, unwanted discussions, unwanted opinions. As the two boys took off their shoes and replaced them with indoor slippers, Iori kept seeing his classmates displaying distress on their faces and body language.

Could it be that everyone else, too, was feeling the tension that Iori was starting to fear again?

No, it couldn't be, he thought to himself. He was being delusional. Everyone else was most likely just having their own problems.

Walking through the halls was a lot quieter, thankfully, each level having less people outside the classrooms. The third level, their destination, seemed empty, all of the classroom doors closed.

Iori stayed on that top step, admiring, questioning the isolation and their echoes in the hall. Yotsuba-san, however, pushed past him, not being bothered to even notice the level's quiet state.

It always seemed like Iori was the only person who noticed these sorts of things, the nature of certain places, of certain situations, of certain people. It didn't bother Iori; in fact, he accepted this habit of his and greatly appreciated it since, so far, his observance skills had been helping IDOLiSH7 make it to the top. At this moment, however, it was more of a curse than a blessing.

Iori shook his head, hoping to reprogram his thoughts into thinking more appropriately. He ignored Yotsuba-san's calls for him to hurry up, seeing that their classroom was not far away from the staircase. The other boy gave up on Iori and walked into the classroom without any caution, slamming the door open. Iori winced as the sound vibrated in the halls and the mix of chatter enveloped the hall.

Stepping into the classroom, everyone was talking at the same time, so it was difficult for Iori to pick up on any conversations. Contrary to Yotsuba-san, Iori took care to be civilized when closing the sliding door. While everyone else confessed and released their distresses, Iori simply took a seat at his front desk, pulling out his necessary school supplies.

The boy was still on his toes no matter how much he tried to present himself in a stable manner. At this point, the tension was becoming anxiety and fear was transitioning into annoyance. Although his heart pumped too hard for his liking, Iori was starting to recognize that everyone else's hearts were beating fast, too.

Iori thought and thought and thought. He analyzed, analyzed, analyzed. Why, dear God, why did it seem as if everyone else was preparing themselves for something? Why was there a universal fear going around the school? Around Iori's classroom?

As if God was sending him a sign, the door, once again, slammed open, but this time, everyone silenced their voices and stared at a figure in a male uniform. With a messy low bun, wrinkled jacket, slacks, and button up shirt, a young man with an open bag hanging from his wrist warned heavily, "I'M NOT LATE!"

With no teacher in sight and having five minutes until the final bell rang, everyone, except the boy, noticed the awkward truth. No one wanted to tell him he wasn't late, nor say that he was on time. He searched for answers in all of his classmates' eyes, but most of the students refused to indicate anything through their expressions.

Finally, someone spoke up.

"Car-kun, you're not late." A lazy tone, recognizable to Iori, caused the 'late' student to drop all of his energy off his shoulders. He slumped in response to the news as he took in Yotsuba-san's voice.

"Seriously?! So I ran up here...for nothing?!" Annoyance spat into the air, and while Yotsuba-san (being the only student willing to help) explained to 'Car-kun' that they still had five minutes, Iori's own excitement peaked higher than before.

Reed Carter, or Carter Reed, was the only American student in Iori's classroom. Apparently, there were two others, but they were from Latin America, so Reed-san had just as much difficulty talking to them as he did with his other Japanese classmates.

If one asked Iori how he would describe his relationship with the American, he would say they were just classmates who happened to sit next to each other at the front. Iori would admit that Reed-san was quite intelligent, considering he was in the top three for their classroom, but Reed-san didn't play the role of a smart, organized student well; in fact, the first time Iori had met the boy, he was convinced that he had the same level of genius as Yotsuba-san. No offense to Yotsuba-san, of course.

After his conservation with Yotsuba-san and giving him a pat on the shoulder as a signature of gratitude, Reed-san strolled over to his desk with heavy feet. The other students whispered to one another, some staring at the messy yet handsome-faced American.

Reed-san sat harshly, causing his book bag to clash against his desk's metal legs. Almost on cue, the other students resumed their previous rants, not a single word sounding clearly.

"Idiot...idiot...idiot..." Reed-san muttered as he laid his head on the desk. Iori felt pity for his classmate because it seemed no matter what Reed-san did, his actions were inevitable to be looked down on. Although Iori told himself Reed-san was not a friend or anything unprofessional such as that, his earlier paranoia seemed to linger around the disorganized body, and Iori couldn't help but sense he had to say something.

"Reed-san, just be glad you're not late. That's the only thing that matters right now." Harsh as ever, Iori regretted his tone, but he was sure that Reed-san was already used to it. They had been sitting next to each other for half-a-year, now. In their semester-long period so far, Reed-san had been the one to invite Iori's truthful manner, anyway.

"Tch," smirked the American in annoyance and recognition, "of course you're not worried for today's results." Lifting his face to communicate, Reed-san had his right hand over his uniform left breast area. Underneath Reed-san's fingers, Iori noticed some pins. In fact, not just some pins; IDOLiSH7 pins.

Iori knew his idol group had male fans, it was certain, but he had never actually met one nor talked to one. He had seen them at concerts and meet-and-greets, but having Reed-san as a classmate and fan opened Iori's doors into the insight of the fanboy brain.

Reed-san was surprisingly quite open about his love for IDOLiSH7, a surprising outcome Iori hadn't expected. According to the American himself, he had become a fan after the first day of transferring to their school in an attempt of wanting to get to know his desk partner (also known as Iori). The thorough research on IDOLiSH7 led to Reed-san's strange trust in the group, as shown through his liking of i7 pins.

Iori also knew that Reed-san loved pushing the Japanese high school dress code. Technically, decorations such as pins and buttons were allowed on their school uniform jackets; however, it was almost like an unwritten rule to not wear anything that wasn't originally on the uniform.

But, of course, the American followed the written rules, alright.
But not the social ones.

"Why are you wearing our pins again?" Iori questioned, "And what do you mean by 'today's results?'"

Up until this point, Iori's tension had been once and a while poking at him, and the feelings that his classmates projected made him question if Reed-san had anything to do with the subconscious fear; however, now he was positive that Reed-san WAS the reason for his torture, or at least, part of it.

Reed-san smiled, proudly adjusting his pins, "Well, IDOLiSH7 is my lucky charm. Your music has been there for me whenever something important like school events come up. I know it's silly, but I genuinely feel better when I wear your guys' musical symbols."

Iori would have smiled, maybe even said cute, if it weren't for the undying pressure of wanting to kill his, well, pressure. Iori's heart was thumping too loud and it was driving him crazy, wanting to know why Reed-san's presence was making it harder to breathe.

Of course, however, Iori did not budge nor show any sign of infuriation or impatience. Just his typical, neutral face that did not leave much to be read.

Reed-san accepted Iori's lack of response as a token to continue, however. "Anyway, about your second question, don't you remember what's happening today?"

"..."

No.

Iori, in fact, did not.

What he did know was that his anxiety went off the roof at Reed-san's implication that Iori had forgotten something.

Iori was an organized person. The behind-the-scenes manager of IDOLiSH7. He had to know his schedule for both his idol and school life.

So why was it that Iori's heart felt like it would stop at any tempo increase? Why did Iori, the top 3rd-year student, not have any clue as to what Reed-san was referring to? Was all of this ridiculous paranoia, that fragment of a dream that caused all of this unnecessary terror, just a way of his subconscious warning him of some scholastic event? Iori's questions further confused him and raised his anxieties, but Iori could not help but admire how, even unconsciously, he was still an organized person. Too much, it seemed, anyway.

"I am afraid I do not know, Reed-san," Iori retaliated, "which is why I asked you, so if you may, please tell me what is happening today that has the entire class petrified."

Iori didn't mean to seem harsh, but after this morning's events, he just wanted to feel some form of relief, and if Reed-san so happened to be the person who would deliver in such pleasure, Iori needed his classmate to co-operate.

Reed-san, ironically, smirked, and although Iori was positive that he showed no inclination on his facial expression and body language, he must have miscalculated his voice's indications, judging by his classmate's reaction.

"Wow, this is the first time I knew something that you didn't," commented the American. "This is kind of liberating."

In general, there had been very few times in which Iori genuinely felt like Reed-san was a nuisance, and unfortunately, at the moment, just when he needed his classmate the most, Iori got the strong urge to highlight Reed-san's idiocies out loud; however, Iori was an idol, so he had to stay committed to professionalism. Though, nothing was stopping him from insulting Reed-san in his head.

With an obviously-annoyed sigh, Iori replied, "Congratulations, Reed-san, I hope you hold this day close to your heart." Iori's typical sarcasm opened up the conversation and some of his anxieties ran out of his body as Reed-san's strange (but cute) giggles flew in through his ears.

"Sorry, sorry," Reed-san's laughter was evident in his speech, "I'll just get straight to the point. Remember how we wrote our rough drafts for the rhetorical analysis essay on The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn* ? Remember that Sensei told us to turn those in to give us feedback before we actually turn in the final drafts?"

Iori nodded, but in reality, he was slowly taking in the information. He did remember that their teacher assigned an essay for the American novel as part of their World Similarities Unit, but he vaguely remembered turning in the rough draft, mainly because he hadn't been the one to physically turn it in. If he remembered correctly, IDOLiSH7 had to go to an early interview a bit far from their usual location the day of the due date. Iori had sent his rough draft to Reed-san, in fact, asking the American if he could print it out for him and hand it in. Reed-san happily accepted, though, he had refused to take any payment from Iori, claiming that it was the least he could do as a classmate.

Iori remembered everything now, and as every single piece of tension left his muscle and brain cells, relieving his body, he had a feeling he knew what Reed-san was going to say next.

"Yeah, well, we're getting the rough drafts back, and apparently, the grade we get back today is essentially the grade we're going to get on the final draft. Unless we fix everything she tells us to fix, of course."

Oh, how relieved Iori felt to hear those words leave Reed-san's western-accented voice! Although it had troubled him the entire morning, Iori was thankful that his bad dream had simply been a misunderstanding.

"Ah, right," finally convincing himself of being fine, Iori continued. "My essay was on the topic of religion versus faith."

Reed-san often held an interest in Iori's analysis of literary works due to them usually being more sophisticated and more analytical than his. Just from one look of Reed-san's eyes, Iori knew he saw curiosity (and a little bit of jealousy) in them.

"Ah, I see. What did you talk about? Or write, I should say," corrected Reed-san, and although he wanted to hear Iori's explanation, Iori could tell that the nervousness from earlier still lingered in Reed-san, and everyone else, for that matter.

"Well, you see, religion is a man-made institution, so it's bound to be just as sinful as the sins it proclaims. The Americans in Huckleberry Finn seemed to only refer to religious beliefs when they were convenient. They only ever followed the Bible's teachings when they benefited from them. Faith has a different connotation—it's truthful and comes from the heart. Faith is genuine because the person believes in it for the sake of wanting to believe, not needing to believe. Referring back to Huckleberry Finn, the main African American character, who is a slave since the book does take place in pre-Civil War era, held his faith close to his heart and refused to give in to Christianity, although other characters insisted it was the superior religion. The author emphasized the contractions between the hypocritical Christians and the faithful Black slave to convey the differences between religion and faith."

Iori often got lost in his own analysis when he would vocalize his ideas, and he never really thought about others' reactions to them, but he recognized that people often never wanted to display their true reactions. Whether Iori's ideas were good or not, his other classmates rarely complimented him or criticized him due to the fear of feeding his ego or getting criticism from the top student himself; Reed-san, however, was the exception because sitting next to the top student for a couple of months truly opened one's eyes to his or her own stupidity.

Staring longingly at Iori with mouth open wide, Reed-san fiddled with his own IDOLiSH7 pins, a nervous habit Iori had recognized a while ago.

"T-That was your analysis? Oh, well, I'm screwed." Reed-san huffed, but not before bouncing his knee up and down as a chain of nervous ticks occurred through his body.

Iori felt the need to rest his hand on top of Reed-san's knee because the bouncing was slightly annoying him, but he simply ignored his urge.

"Reed-san, you worry too much. I'm sure you at least got a 6 out of 9 on the rough draft," comforted Iori, though, Reed-san gasped loudly enough for their other classmates to talk quieter in an attempt to eavesdrop.

"6 isn't good, Iori!" Reed-san half-whispered, catching on to the others wanting to listen in.

"Well, according to Sensei, a 6 is passing, so, technically, yes, it is a good score." Iori did actually agree that getting a 6 was a bad grade, but for Reed-san's standards, that was the average **.

"I know, I know," Reed-san said as his knee bounced harsher than before, "but I worked really hard on this essay. Getting a 6 would be rather disappointing."

"Well, explain your essay to me." Iori knew he wasn't good at comforting people, but he at least tried to. Deep down, he appreciated Reed-san, and although not always the brightest, Iori had to respect the American for always working hard, even when others discouraged him.

Reed-san seemed flustered, already in the mind-set that his essay would never top Iori's, and although he had good reason to think that, Iori still wanted to hear him out. Even if Reed-san's knee was bolting ridiculously high.

"Well, um, I decided to talk about the school system in Huck Finn," Reed-san's voice was stable in tone, but there was a hint of hesitance behind each syllable. "From the beginning of the book to the end, Huck Finn's smartness is doubted by most of the white characters, especially his educated best friend, Tom Sawyer. Since Huck Finn is unsivilized***, you know, due to his lack of manners and education, he is seen as an idiot, and although he is an an idiot, he's a genius when it comes to survival. Although Tom Sawyer's technically smarter than Huck, he only follows what fictional books say, using them as absolute guides. Unlike Huck, who can get himself out of any situation, Tom can't think for himself."

"Hm, yes, but how do their education differences affect their friendship?" Iori questioned, testing Reed-san's analysis. So far, Reed-san's explanation seemed fine, but Iori just wanted to make sure.

"Mark Twain establishes from the beginning that their friendship is that of a dominant and submissive; Tom orders, Huck follows. Although Huck's ideas are better, Tom ignores them and even devalues than. For most of the story, Huck Finn starts to build his own voice when he travels down the river with the slave, Jim, but when he reunites with Tom, he goes back to his old habit of following rather than standing side-by-side with Tom. Tom does not see Huck as an equal, and that's the true irony because if anyone is smart in this novel, it's Huck and oh my god..."

Reed-san finished his explanation, but he looked slightly flushed. He said his entire explanation with quick breaths, and all Iori could say was that he was...impressed. To an extent.

He nodded in approval as Reed-san let out a relieved sigh, but Iori didn't have the heart to say he still thought Reed-san got a 6. 6+, at the highest. It wasn't that Iori didn't have faith in Reed-san, but his classmate tended to get the average. What else could he expect?

Rubbing his hands together, Reed-san once again let out a long-held breath and covered his face with his now-warm palms. "You know, I wonder, Iori-san. If my analysis was actually good because my ideas are always better in my head than on dead paper."

Iori agreed out loud, receiving a light punch to the shoulder followed by a bittersweet laughter from Reed-san. It was times like these in which Iori could hear the fabricated joy, but he never commented on it, anyway.

DING DONG.

Harsh bells resounded through the classroom and everyone seemed to have the same fear lingering in their pupils as their sensei strolled in without a single care in the world, nothing in hands. Shuffling was heard all around the room, desks screeching, books slamming against the desks' hard surfaces, but next to Iori, all he could hear was Reed-san's knee and his controlled, yet unstable breathing.

"Good morning, students," the teacher's chair creaked as she settled in, "I'm assuming all of you know the schedule for the first half of class, right? I'm going to be calling you up to get your rough drafts back. I graded them as if they were your final drafts, so if you got a low grade, you still have time to fix your mistakes. If you got a high score, you should be proud of yourself, but I still recommend you look over my comments."

Reed-san's infamous knee bouncing was getting pounded into Iori's head and his temper was starting to slip away from his neatly-folded hands. To distract himself, Iori used his peripheral vision to recognize a couple of regretful and fearful faces that yelled, "FAIL!" all across the room. Not that Iori was judging, of course.

"Okay, I'm going to start calling out names. You all know the drill; I only announce the top three grades, the rest are confidential since I don't want to embarass you guys, though, I really should considering that the procrastination was more evident than usual." Sensei remarked, taking out a big stack of papers from her desk's bottom drawer. They all seemed to vary in length; some looked to be two pages long, others five. Iori remembered that his essay was around six to seven pages, and although he knew well enough that quality outdued quantity, he could not help but smirk at those one-pagers.

Just as how Sensei had said, she started to call names, and almost immediately, Iori lost interest. In fact, he often dozed off during these ceremonies, only ever perking up at the mention of his name, Yotsuba-san's, and Reed-san's. Although Sensei never called out people for getting bad grades, his classmates' faces said it all. So far, there were mainly shocked and unfazed expressions and a few outbursts of genuine joy here and there.

When Sensei called up Yotsuba-san, she held an expression that had a slight hint of pride. She rarely showed emotions as to not reveal grades, but considering she admired Yotsuba-san's essay, Iori assumed his frie—fellow classmate, actually—got more than a 4 this time. Sure enough, Yotsuba-san yelled out, "YEAH! I GOT A 4+," fists held up in the air with much power. Everyone clapped despite it being a bad grade because, for Yotsuba-san's standards, a 4+ was equivalent to a 7.

The next person to be called was Akane-san, the student right behind Iori for first place in the classroom, but his grade wasn't all too impressive; it was a 7-. Although Iori didn't consider Akane-san to be a rival due to his grade inconsistancy, Akane-san did and constantly opposed Iori in almost everything. Iori found Akane-san's rivalry quite unprofessional, but he never actually felt threatened by him.

"Izumi Iori. Please come up." Breaking him out of his own thoughts, Iori stood up, unbothered by all the stares he knew were stabbing at his back. Because Iori was the top student in their classroom, his other classmates often quieted down when it came to Iori's grades. Everyone always seemed to want to compare themeselves to him.

Since Iori sat at the front, it didn't take him too long to get to his sensei's desk. Handing his essay back with little interest, the teacher announced, "Congratulations, Izumi-san. You got a 7."

Almost as if time itself stopped, Iori's hand stopped mid-way in air as he reached out for his essay.

Seriously? A seven? How?

Iori obviously could not see his own expression, but he assumed it expressed his conflicting stance. The sensei simply pushed Iori's essay into his hand, forcing him to go back to his desk without even commanding. Iori kept his emotions in check, replacing his sour face with a poker face. Internally, however, he wondered what went wrong. He shuffled through his essay, only seeing multiple red marks stating the phrases, "Too much summary...Too much ranting." Iori felt like screaming, felt like every red mark was a stab at the heart.

Suddenly, the classroom's original background noise went into focus, and Iori realized that his classmates had been chit-chatting throughout the rollcall. Even Reed-san's knee bounced back into frame; Iori's frame. With all the annoying stimuli and the hard effort of staying calm, Iori was tempted to argue with his teacher over his grade during class, but he kept reminding himself that an after school discussion would be more efficient.

"Reed Carter, please come up." The entire classroom suddenly stopped talking, quicker than when Sensei called Iori. And Iori didn't like that one bit.

Before standing up, Reed-san softly touched his IDOLiSH7 pins, whispering something under his breath, but Iori didn't hear. Reed-san's steps were soft just like his expression, but Iori could feel the dragging behind each step. All pair of eyes shot bullets at Reed-san while others held back their bows and arrows, curious to see what grade the American got.

"Congratulations, Reed-san. You got an 8-." Sensei said, gifting the essay back to Reed-san as the happiest smile painted his face. And this time, it was actually genuine.

Iori was stunned. Mocked. Insulted.

How did Reed-san, who usually got 6's, get an 8- when Iori hadn't managed to get one yet?

"Iori! Iori! I-I got an 8! I'm...I'm so happy!" exclaimed Reed-san as his obnoxious body slammed down onto his plastic chair. Iori smiled out of courtesy, but part of him wanted to retort that Reed-san had gotten an 8-, not an 8, but what difference did it make?

"I see," Iori responded, though, guessing by Reed-san's body language, he wasn't hiding his feelings enough. "Do you mind if I read your essay, Reed-san? I would just like to take notes on what I, apparently, did wrong."

As those words spit out of his mouth, Iori recognized that his annoyance was becoming too evident for his liking. Although he was truly upset about his grade, he genuinely didn't want to be angry at Reed-san nor doubt his success, but...

"W-What?" Stammered Reed-san, clutching his essay a bit tighter at the request. "You want to read my...my essay?"

"Just for comparison is all." The more Iori talked, the more rude he became, it seemed.

Reed-san bit his lip, but his hands loosened a little, slowly bringing the stapled papers closer to Iori.

"P-Please don't think it's better than yours. Because, it's, um, not. Probably, anyway..."

Iori would have thought this scenery was adorable if it weren't for him being annoyed, but he still appreciated Reed-san's humbleness.

"Don't worry, I won't." Tenderly taking the essay from Reed-san, he dropped it onto his own desk, immediately reading the introductory paragraph. Just from reading the intro, it didn't surprise Iori that Reed-san used such simple vocaulary. Unlike him, Iori's vocabulary was highly-advanced and not repetitive. Iori had to admit Reed-san's thesis was good, but he caught himself criticizing every little detail.

As he read each word, the more he questioned the possiblity that Reed-san actually came up with these ideas. Reed-san's speech and voice sounded...proper, unlike his actual personality. His arguments were agreeable and his analysis of Mark Twain's use of irony went beyond Iori's own analysis. For a moment, Iori was starting to believe that maybe he had been wrong about Reed-san.

But. Then again, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn was an American novel. And Reed-san was an American. Could it be that he had read the novel before in the United States and had already known how to analyze it?

Now that Iori thought about it, Reed-san had been the one who turned in Iori's essay. What if...Reed-san had looked off of Iori's essay and copied his style of writing? What if Reed-san purposely changed some parts of Iori's essay to make sure he got the top grade?

Reed-san kept touching his IDOLiSH7 pins, also. Did they maybe hold hidden power? Satanic value?

NO, Iori thought, that was too extreme.

As Iori continued to question the foreigner's success, the classroom gossip only fed his paranoia more, hearing mentions of cheating, bribery, injustice.

Whispers and remarks choked Reed-san, and as he sat anxiously beside Iori, bouncing his knee up and down, caressing his IDOLiSH7 pins, he truly hoped it was the classroom's air conditioning that was causing his morning cold sweat.

~~~~~~

Notes:

*Mark Twain's novel, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, was written before the American Civil War. During this period of time, slavery was the most popular method of free labor. White Americans often maltreated their African American slaves and degraded them, despite being their labor force. Other American social institutions such as the school system, the family dynamic, and religion (specifically, Christianity) had questionable aspects that made some folks call for a change in societal actions. Mark Twain mainly wrote the novel to point out the hypocrisy within American society's standards. The story is about a young, uneducated boy, Huckleberry Finn, who travels along the Mississippi river along with a runaway slave named Jim.

**This grading system is based off the AP Language and Composition grading system on essays. Although to some it may seem that a 6 is a low grade, it actually isn't because it is incredibly rare for a student to ever get a 9. Getting a 6 means you met all the standards for a proper essay.

***This is a reference to Mark Twain's novel, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. In the story, Huck Finn believes he is a smart kid, referring to himself as a "sivilized" being. Mark Twain purposely misspells civilized in order to convey the irony in Huck Finn's character.

Author's Note:

For those of you that have read The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, you may appreciate this one-shot's underlining message a bit more than those that haven't read it or ever heard of it. I hope all of you (or at least those that have read the novel) notice...something. If you do recognize something, PLEASE comment it down in the comment section. I look forward to reading your "discoveries."

Once again, thank you for reading.

And, yes, I know what some of you might be thinking, and to answer: I have no idea how I came up with this idea. But I did.