[color=lavender]"....and if we take that into account. We can interpret  Raskolnikovs experiences as a metaphor for the struggles of the working class. For you see..."[/color] droned Mrs. Flaherty.

Chets attention span waxed and waned throughout the literature teachers less than passionate presentation of classical Russian literature. He had no idea who this Fyodor Dostoyevski guy was nor what his book was really about, but Chet was damn sure that Mr. Dostoyevski deserved better than to be droned about by some ancient wrinkly manatee. Though he did appreciate Raskolnikovs struggle as a brilliant man forced into a life of mediocrity by lame circumstances. A struggle that Chet himself identified with. 

Just like Rolo, Chet also possessed an embarrassing secret. He actually liked reading these seemingly boring and depressing books written by miserable old men who whiled away the remaining years of their lives being high on absinthe. The crushingly brutal honesty of such works really resonated with Chet, for he didn't exactly live through the most pleasant of childhoods. As a leader of the baddest gang around, he had to have something to look up to. Someone to learn from. Especially those who weren't afraid to speak the truth. Those who understood what it meant to bear the burden of leadership at all times. 

Needless to say, Chet didn't take literature class seriously. Though surprisingly, his literature assignments had decent grades. A fact that infuriated Mrs. Flaherty to no end. Especially after all those times she had to reprimand and discipline Chet and his three friends. Always talked during class they did. Passing notes and throwing scrunched up pieces of paper around. This year though, she had those four split up. To the opposite ends of the classroom. But this only served to intensify their bad behaviour, much to her dismay.

Some kid next to Chet handed him a note. [color=lime]"Thanks chief."[/color] said Chet.

Chet had to be careful when opening notes, for he was stationed at the front of the class. He opened up the note with expertly trained stealth and deviousness. He was intrigued by its contents. Divo never had a problem before. He was always the straight laced one of his closest friends. Apparently, it had something to do with that girl that Rolo was obsessed with. Juicy gossip was Chets forte. It was his business to know all the goings on in his gang after all.

Another note was passed to Chet from the back of the class. [color=lime]"Thanks darlin."[/color] said he. Sealing his gratitude with a wink was always a hit with the ladies. The girl swooned visibly yet inaudibly. A daily occurrence for Chet in the classroom.

The handwriting was unmistakeable. He wanted to swing by the local chicken joint after school, again. Classic Rolo.

Snickering could be heard near the back of the class. 

[color=lavender]"Quiet down you scoundrels!"[/color] yelled Mrs. Flaherty.

[color=orange]"Sorry miss."[/color] said Rolo.

[color=violet]"Yeah, sorry."[/color] said Switch.

[color=lavender]"Hmmph. As I was saying. The relationship between the protagonist and...."[/color] she droned on.

All of a sudden, the door of the classroom burst open. There standing in the doorway, was a short and rather cute looking girl. She had poofy hair and what looked like wild eyes.

[color=lavender]"You're late."[/color] said Mrs. Flaherty.