"Please don't call my dad." Megan didn't even wait to fully be in the office before she begged. She had known they'd be caught, but of course she couldn't refuse Logan's pout. "He doesn't even want me alone with a boy. If he found out I skipped class with one, he'd never let me out of the house."

"This is your first infraction." Slade noted. "You are on the honor roll."

Megan nodded, hoping to get a light sentence.

Mr. Wilson adjusted his name plate. "I won't call your father."

"Thank you–"

"This time." He glared. "But if I ever catch you skipping class again..." He started writing her detention slip.

Megan assured him with a thankful smile. "You won't, I promise."

In class, however, Wally was not thankful. He was half asleep because of Iris's early morning workout routine. Apparently since Barry didn't want to do it, he'd 'volunteered.' Meaning Barry had thrown him under the bus. Again.

"That's why the American Revolution was so important." Kori finished, lowering her notecard.

"Thank you, Kori. Very nice." Mr. Jones nodded. "Alright. Wallace, you're up."

"What?" Wally sat up quickly. The class snickered.

Mr. Jones sighed. "We're waiting."

"One second, sir." Wally mumbled, starting to go through his folder. "I'm sorry." He flipped through the folder, confused. "Sorry. Um..." He mumbled. "This can't be happening."

"Hi. I'm sorry to interrupt." Someone at the door lifted a red folder, looking nervous. "Wally, I have your folder."

A student whistled. "Check out Wally's mommy."

"You must be Wallace's mother." Mr. Jones eyed the duo wearily.

"No, I'm-" Iris started.

"She's not my mom, okay?" Wally practically growled. "Are you kidding me? Look at her." He gestured toward Iris. "Are- are you stupid?"

There was a pause before Wally realized what he'd said, and Mr. Jones wrote up a detention.

Meanwhile, Logan sat outside the principal's office, having already received his threat, waiting to hear his girlfriend's. "So..?" He stood as she slipped out of the office.

"Detention." She held up the slip. "But at least we'll be together, right?" Logan avoided her gaze. "Right?"

"No, he actually let me off with a warning." He seemed almost ashamed at the statement.

"A warning?" Megan raised an eyebrow.

"Yep." Logan nodded. "You know, I got soccer practice, some big games coming up. I just can't miss them." He shrugged. "But I'll see you after school, okay?"

"Yeah, sure." Megan nodded. "Alright. Unbelievable." She mumbled deciding to join her fellow students at lunch, passing an angry music teacher on her way.

Miss Lance was angry, but she was also on a mission. Correction: she was pissed on a mission. It took her nearly three hours simply looking for Slade, only to find him parading around the school on a hoverboard.

"What can I tell you, Dinah?" Mr. Wilson glided carelessly past the music teacher.

"That you put the same value on the arts as you do sports." Dinah followed him. "You've cut the music budget to zero. You've moved my classroom down to the basement. And for what? Some gymnasium?"

He spun around, right in her face. "Whoa. This is not 'some gymnasium.' Sports bring donors, donors bring money, and money makes my school run." He turned back around, moving faster than Miss Lance could even try.

"Your school?" She accused quickly.

He spun back. Possibly closer this time. "Times are tough, Dinah. Someone's gotta make the hard decisions around here, and that someone is moi." He continued on his way, passing the broom closet Dick had been avoiding his peers in.

"'I'm Nobody. Who are you? Are you nobody too?'" He read, biting into his apple with a sigh. "Heh. Well, that would be a yes." Suddenly, his apple was on the ground, and so was he, causing majority of the cleaning supplies to fall over in a loud crash.

The door opened to reveal Slade 'Deathstroke' Wilson with a glare that could kill, handing him a detention slip. Dick simply nodded, accepting the slip and trying not to knock over the broom that was precariously balanced on his leg. Though, it was technically free period. And technically not against the rules to hide away in the janitor's closet.

Connor's free period, however, was being taken by the only thing he didn't want to be doing: soccer tryouts.

"Here we go, hustle up. Move it, move it." The coach called over the field. "Come on, let's make a move."

One of the team members (honestly it was mostly decided who was on the team) kicked a ball at Connor. Smirking as it hit him in the head, making him trip over the soccer ball he'd been forced to bring along.

"Tommy, cut it out, dude." Logan pushed his friend.

"Keep it going. Keep it going. Kent, come on, get with the program." The coach called. This kid was nothing like his brother. If they didn't look like the same person, the man wouldn't have believed they were related. "No, no, Kent, you gotta kick the ball. Like...that." He gestured toward Tommy, who was kicking the ball toward the goal with a smirk.

Once the coach turned away though, Tommy kicked it directly towards Connor, hitting him, once again, in the head.

"That's it. You know what?" Connor lifted the soccer ball he'd been given. "I don't wanna play soccer, I don't want your abuse, and I certainly don't want my brother's ball." He aimed for Tommy, but he ducked, making the ball hit their coach.

"Yeah, I think he did that on purpose, coach." Tommy smirked, feigning innocence.

Connor seethed, glaring at the soccer player.