This story will be posted in either two or three parts. Basically the idea came to me when I was in a familiar situation to our dear Scott, void of the failing of course. I'm sure a lot of you will be able to relate to how he is feeling, few people out there possess an interest for language at a young age.

That's all there is to it really, and idea that stemmed from utter boredom! Reviews and constructive criticism are always very welcome, I hope you all enjoy the story.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Thunderbirds, or any of the characters mentioned, except of course the ones that I have made up, those are mine.

Tick, tick, tick... Scott growled as his watch continued with its incessant, irritating noise. For over an hour he'd been sat in this tedious classroom, clock watching of course, which only resulted in making the day seem even more agonizingly longer.

A new '6th period', had been invented in his high school for 15-16 year olds, for those who were believed to need extra attention in particular subjects. It was compulsory that they attended these lessons if that were the case, unless of course they had permission from a parent or guardian with a suitable reason to excuse their absence.

However Scott, was one of the unlucky ones. His father had no qualms at all with these new arrangements, in fact he encouraged them. It was no secret that Scott wasn't exactly a genius when it came to languages, which is why at the present moment he was enclosed in a small, brightly decorated room, surrounded by roughly twelve other peers.

Flags and colourful images adorned the walls, which were a bright, blinding yellow, and covered in various French phrases complete with messy diagrams. It was supposed to help the students to think easier, and stimulate the mind. Though Scott found it all rather distracting, and thought that it would be a great idea to call in Virgil to give the wretched, hell-hole a makeover.

Momentarily pausing in his inspection of the room, Scott gave the half-filled page in his book a read over.

'Pour rester en forme, on devrait manger juste. Cest bon pour la santé et votre forme physique.' Alright, so his sentence was extremely basic for his level of learning, but who cares?

French. Oh how he did loathe the subject! What good would it do for him anyway? As far as Scott was concerned, he wouldn't be traipsing around the world anytime in the near future, America suited him just fine. And it's not as though he'd ever need to communicate with anyone outside of his country anyway, well he didn't think so. He only wanted to be a pilot, that wouldn't require any knowledge of language, would it?

Many teachers had made comments on his performance in the modern languages, the two he took being French, and then secondly German. Few could understand how he could set such high standards in almost every other subject he was educated in, and then attain below-average grades in Languages.

Scott, of course knew why. He just couldn't bring himself to find them remotely interesting, he'd tried again and again to apply himself, and came out with no more than a measly C each time. Sure, some students would be pleased to achieve even that, but not him. Scott was accustomed to perfection, and didn't take too nicely to failure.

Unfortunately neither did his father. He had high expectations for his eldest especially, and the rest of his sons. And when he knew that one of them was capable of something, he'd push them until they reached the maximum they could possible get. Laziness and unwillingness to comply with this, were not taken lightly.

Knowing that his thoughts were beginning to sound much like a rebellious teenager, complaining of trivial things such as a school subject, he mentally silenced himself.

"Just 37 minutes left to go..." He sighed quietly, all the whilst certain that some powerful God had paused time up there, if only to prolong his unavoidable torture.

"Hey Johnny!" 14-year-old Virgil called, casually strolling into the dining room.

"Yeah?" A lithe, blonde haired boy, a little over one year Virgil's senior looked up from where he was seated.

"Er... What the hell is a Cumulative frequency diagram?"

"Hmm, let's think, wouldn't be a Cumulative frequency diagram now would it?" John suggested, sarcasm evident in his words.

"John I'm serious, I don't even know what I'm supposed to be doing with this," Virgil admitted, slumping down into a chair besides John and slatting his Math homework onto the glass table.

"What don't you understand?"

"Well, I know how to plot the graph and all, I just don't get how to find all that upper and lower stuff!" Virgil exclaimed, becoming increasingly frustrated with each second.

John, however, was finding the whole affair rather humourous. "Seriously Virg, it's EASY once you know what you are doing. And it's upper and lower quartiles, not 'stuff', and don't forget the median... I swear, if I explained it to Alan, he could do it for you!"

"Oh yeah, now I just feel dumb".

Shaking his head at Virgil's negativity, John proceeded to explain how to go about completing his homework. Finishing the first three questions himself and claiming they were just, 'examples'.

Just as Virgil was going through the last task with an ease he didn't know he was capable of, a disgruntled Scott strode through the door, sopping wet and dripping water all over the floor.

Cursing the winter time silently to himself he nodded slightly in greeting to his two brothers.

"Father ain't gonna be happy Scott, I'd clean that up if I were you," John tutted gently. Though it seemed Scott was in no mood for playing today, he merely made a rude gesture with his index finger, and after shoving his shoes into a small cupboard in the hall, clambered moodily up the stairs.

Raising his eyebrows John gave Virgil a sidewards glance, "seems those extra French lessons are really getting to him, huh?"

With a quick nod of a agreement Virgil added, "can you blame him? He's got a younger brother who can speak it twice as well as he can, and I'm not far behind him! Do you know that he accidentally told the teacher that he 'was a chicken tonight', opposed to 'I feel like having a chicken tonight' the other week?"

"No way... Poor Scott. Perhaps I should tutor him," John grinned just imagining how annoyed his controlling brother would be at such a suggestion.

"If he wasn't so furious at the moment, I'd say go for it. Why don't you talk to Dad about it? At least then he wouldn't have to go to these darn lessons, and he wouldn't walk in here like that everyday."

"You know, I may just do that." Answered John lifting himself from his seat and stretching with a yawn, "oh and Virg, I'd check question four if I were you." He advised, still wearing a smug grin that he often wore. John then walked out of the room leaving Virgil to wonder how he'd messed up this time.

So much for believing he'd finally grasped it!

Moving gracefully across the landing, John came to a halt at the closed wooden door. He'd decided he would in fact, confront his father with the idea of giving Scott a hand. With a swift knock, John stood patiently as he waited for the inevitable reply. After all, where else would their father be?

"Come in!" An agitated voice called from within the confines of the room. Uh oh, all he needed was two moody Tracy's to deal with.

Stepping in quietly as to not increase his father's bad mood, whatever had brought it on, he offered a slight smile whilst thinking of the best way to deliver the subject.

"Can I speak to you for a moment, father?" John questioned politely, with the manners of a well-raised young man.

"Go ahead John. Be sure to make it snappy though, I've got a lot of work to do." Jeff Tracy answered, finally stealing his eyes away from the extensive paper work on his desk, and casting his second eldest and attentive glance.

"Well, I was just considering earlier, that perhaps it would be beneficial for me to aid Scott in his language studies..." Straight to the subject John. "You know as well as I do, that these lessons are taking up a lot of his free time, and he has enough of that already dedicated with the Air cadets. It makes far more sense or him to stay here with me and learn, don't you think?"

Sighing slightly, Jeff twirled gently back and two in his chair in thought. "John, have you given thought to what Scott would say about this?"

"Of course! And I think this is the best course of action to take, Scott is virtually desperate, you know how much he hates those classes, Dad."

John had used the word 'Dad', a sure sign his confidence was rising and he was beginning to become more relaxed. Chewing on his pen lid, an old habit he'd never been able to erase, Jeff eventually came to a decision.

"OK son, this seems reasonable enough. However, don't mention it to Scott just now, I'll broach the subject in the evening when everyone is settled down for dinner."

"Sure Dad, I'll see you later then," with a small wave John calmly exited the room. Another job well done.

Meanwhile, Scott had regained his usual composure. He was attempting, somewhat in vainly, to comb his hair in front of his mirror. It was a small face one that was positioned considerably high on his wall. At only 16, Scott was already nearing an impressive 6ft.

Virgil, who had joined him as company around ten minutes prior to the current time of 16:57, couldn't quite see his own reflection in it yet.

"Scott, give it up man, it looks no different from when you started!" Virgil could barely contain his amusement at his older brother's predicament.

"Shut up, you wouldn't know anyway. Just because you look like a scruffy, drowned rat, doesn't mean I have to." Was Scott's unnecessarily, angry retort.

"Oh, now it's personal. What's wrong with you lately? Gee."

"There's nothing wrong with me," Scott muttered, tossing the black comb to the carpeted floor, "Except the fact that I have a brother who continues to pester me about nonsense."

"Whatever dude," Virgil chose to ignore the comment and with a look at his watch, informed Scott that he was going to be late for cadets if he didn't hurry up.

"Darn it! I'm supposed to be taking parade tonight as well. Where are my boots?"

Knowing his brother as well as he knew himself, Virgil absently pointed to one of the oak wardrobes against the left wall of the decent-sized room. "You threw them there when you got in last Thursday, remember? I'm sure you were wound up about a certain flight sergeant."

"She had me do clean-up duty, and all because I challenged her in a situation where she was wrong. It wasn't fair I tell you, Virg!"

"I know, I know... Just come on, tie up those laces and get out of the house man, last thing you need is Officer Rutherford on your case."

Nodding in agreement, Scott hastily pulled the final knot in his lace, and accepted the hand that Virgil had offered out. He may only be fourteen, and not as tall as himself, but he packed some strength in that compact body of his.

The two teenagers were about to go down the stairs just as a noisy red-head bolted across the landing, followed shortly by a chubby eleven-year-old. "Gordo! Give it back you asswipe!"

Standing in shocked silence, the two young men exchanged nervous glances. Having recently started a new year, at a different school, their youngest brother was beginning to adopt a rather foul tongue.

"I'll go sort that out... I'll see you later Scott, don't let that girl get to you, eh?"

"Oh shush Virg, just give Alan a telling off will you? If Dad hears him talking like that he's dead."

With a sharp nod, accompanied by a mock salute, Virgil called Alan's name and made his way into the room they had previously stampeded into.

Satisfied that Virgil was doing as he commanded, which is nothing more than what he expected, he proceeded to traverse the rest of the staircase, only to find another obstruction awaiting him. "What is is Johnny? And hurry, I'm almost late as it is."

"Oh, nothing much, just make sure you back in time for dinner tonight. That means no dwadling with the squadron like you usually do, Dad's gonna be discussing something, and you need to be present." John explained with a simple shrug, as normal utilizing his developed language where not required. A simple, 'Hurry up home tonight, Dad's gotta say something and you need to be there', would have sufficed.

Had he not been in such a rush, Scott would have pursued the matter further, however right now he was. Not to mention he could hear his father's car horn repeatedly going off outside, indicating he really did need to get out of the house.

Well, that's all for chapter one. I'm always eager to post that first one, and then you re-read it and realise there are so many errors! Hopefully I haven't done as bad this time... Ah well, practice makes perfect. Tell me what you thought, and hopefully I'll have the next installment up pretty soon.

Sentence in French translates to, 'To stay in good shape, you ought to eat sensibly. It's good for the health and your body shape.'

I think...