It's the usual boilerplate. Policies that no one will enforce, because they'll use their common sense. Rules that no one will follow, because they're letting their hormones drive.

Most of it is exactly what you'd expect. He doodles aimlessly as he skims through it. Matt isn't sure why they hand the things out every year. Whose idea was it, anyway, to attach a student planner to the handbook? No one besides him is even reading this crap.

It's not that he's triggered, or anything. His breathing is perfectly even. But Matt takes no small amount of pleasure in crossing out "Swimming" from the list of "Spring Sports" offered at school.

The rest of class passes by, unremarkable as always.

Between classes, Matt snaps a couple of photos 'for the yearbook'. Most of these probably won't make the cut, but it gives him an excuse to stay in practice. He hasn't gotten too many gigs, and any chance to take photos is a chance to improve.

The most visually interesting happening at the moment is the lacrosse players tossing a ball back and forth while other students attempt to navigate through, underneath, and around them.

Great, more pictures of athletes. The yearbook desperately needed those.

Well, he'll make it a good picture- the whole point of this is to practice taking better pictures on a short timescale.

Click. Matt takes the picture.

"Hey, dipshit, catch up. We're not halting the whole parade for you just because you're getting your rocks off."

...what? Since when does Whittemore care how he spends his time?

"Coming. Don't blow a gasket."

He jogs to catch up to the group of lacrosse players who have apparently been...waiting for him this whole time? He's hardly friends with the actual jocks. This is just Carrie waiting to happen. Matt plays along, though- in his experience, it's always best to play along.

"-can I go or what?"

"Fuck no, I was waiting for an excuse to stop you. That story is not getting any more airtime. Recycle it, find something actually worth the space it takes up in my brain next time. Danny, did you finish last night's assignment?"

"You're not cheating off me."

...

"He's so cheating off you."

"See? Matthew understands me."

He gives Matt the kind of casual, one-armed hug that is sufficiently masculine and platonic for all of them to accept it uncritically.

"Fine. I can't stop you from taking shortcuts, but we're going over the material. I'm not letting you be stupid enough to make me look bad."

Brian proceeds to fill the air telling a story about pizzas and harried service workers. It's not as funny as he thinks it is.

"-speaking of," Matt says, as though he's paid the slightest attention to what Byrne is speaking of, "this is my stop. See you guys around."

"You sure about that? I don't see Mr. Suckup anywhere."

Is he sure about where his next class is? Mr. Suck-up?

"Pretty sure I know my schedule by now, Whittemore."

"Oh, are we all just pretending like it's normal to stop at the wrong classroom? Sorry, my bad. Did you hit your head last night jerking off? Come on, we don't want to keep Harris waiting."

"It's fourth period. Economics with Mr. Harris. You good, man?"

He is not good, man. He doesn't know what kind of game these guys are playing, but he's no longer interested.

"Thanks for the advice. I'm going to head inside now, and actually work on making it into college instead of washing out of high school athletics."

-Danny places a hand on Jackson's shoulder, giving him a pleading look.