So, I was making cranes in class today, and my teacher was not pleased. "Put it away." He said gruffly.

I did, and, when his back was turned, I took out my half folded bird.

"Put it away." He said again.

"It's for school, sir." I replied. If I wasn't cross dressing, I would have opened my eyes up really wide, showing him my control over my tear glands.

"Put it away."

"But we're not doing anything, sir."

"I don't care."

"But, sir!" I protested (Writing this makes it seem like I live back in the nineteen hundreds. But 'sirs' and 'ma'am' are used frequently in this place.)

"Sir," Neil interjected (What did I tell you?). "What if I told you that Ethan here has Leukemia, and folding paper cranes helps him find peace with the world before his inevitable demise?"

"Does he have Leukemia?" My teacher asked.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, sir," Neil began. "But where does it say in the school rules that a student must give out personal information to near strangers?"

The teacher turned beet red, and Hans and Frans walked to the front of the room, presenting him with a red covered school rulebook. I didn't even know that they new such a thing existed.

Or teacher flipped through the pages, then, resignedly said, "Fine then. Fold you stupid paper."

I smiled thankfully at Neil, who winked. Hans and Frans made little bows before returning to their respective seats. (At least, I think it was Hans that went to Hans' seat, but I can't really be sure.)

I only got to 279 cranes, but I was given some old piano music to fold up and a box of "Make an Airplane-A-Day" with only two months missing from it. Only 721 cranes to go.