I love writing with these two characters! Enjoy ;)

***************************

Blake strolled toward Spanish class, holding a textbook and weaving through the crowd of adolescents.

"Blake!" he heard an all too familiar voice call.

He stopped and waited at the side of the hall for Carter, who was sprinting in his direction. His friend slowed to a halt in front of him, clearly winded.

"I just ran all the way from the chemistry lab a few doors down," he panted. "Anyway, I've got some bad news-"

"Hey Blake," a boy named Paxtin interrupted, "can I get your number so we can get together for our Physics project?"

Blake gave him his number then looked at his watch. "Tell me about it at lunch."

Carter was left there, his right arm in a sling and his left hand holding his backpack. His right arm had been broken during his last mission and unfortunately, it was his dominant arm. Writing, ketchup packets, snack bags, and scissors have been hard obstacles to overcome.

Later that day, the boys found an empty table in the cafeteria and made sure they were out of earshot before they continued.

"Okay, what's the problem?" Blake asked in a hushed tone.

"Mph-" Carter managed through a mouthful of sandwich. He swallowed hardly, nearly choking on the large morsel of peanut butter and jelly.

"Hey Carter," a girl from taekwondo class exclaimed, leaning against the table, "What happened to your arm?"

"Zoey," Carter's eyebrows raised in surprise at the sudden show of sympathy for himself; something that Blake never gave him. "It was just an accident. Fell off a dirt bike while trying to do a risky trick."

Blake closed his eyes and shook his head, "That was definitely not-"

"That was pretty stupid. I didn't know you rode dirt bikes. That's kind of expensive," Zoey pressed on.

"Yeah, it's really fun. But, I'm not going to be riding for a while so I'll have to find another hobby."

"With that broken arm you won't be able to come to taekwondo. I won't get to see you as often."

"I'll still come to watch and help teach little kids. And you do see me at school so it's not the end of the world," Carter told her, not seeing the point.

"Anyway, hope your arm gets better soon," she bent over and hugged him awkwardly.

"Bye," Carter waved, his expression flushed and puzzled. "Okay," he turned to Blake, "back to the problem. It-"

The speakers boomed with the voice of the principle, "Band practice is in thirty minutes. All band members make their way to the locker rooms."

A swarm of teenagers hurried out of the cafeteria.

"Ok, hurry up Carter I don't have all day," Blake mumbled.

"You know I can hear you?"

"The problem?!"

"Oh right! Somebody ate my Snickers bar and, I overheard the history teacher about a pop quiz."

"And?" Blake raised an eyebrow; unconvinced that either was a problem.

"I can't study all three chapters in one night! I don't have a brain like yours," Carter whined.

"It's not my fault you got behind on your homework-"

"No, when I broke my arm last mission you were there."

"But I didn't cause you to fall off a roof."

"That's not the point! I need help studying."

"Ok, at least you asked for it. Where do you want to meet up?"

"City library after school, I'll drive you there."

"How can you drive with a broken arm?"

"Right. I'll have Mom take us."

"You seriously don't remember all the kids making fun of you when your mom dropped you off and called you one of her embarrassing names?"

"I like to pretend that stuff didn't happen," Carter frowned. "And we still haven't solved the Snickers bar issue."

"That's not important."

"How dare you say that's not important?!" Carter gasped.

Blake stared at Carter with a disappointed look then sighed and tossed him a quarter, "Here, there's a vending machine with plenty of Snickers bars."

"Thanks man," Carter slid off the seat and danced over to the vending machine.

Blake pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why am I friends with him again?"