Birds of a Feather prompt from The Flame
He lounges on a chair at the back of the class. The teacher constantly glares at the group of boys in the corner, his group of boys. Though the teacher’s lesson is an important part of their education, the boys ignore it. They talk about the girls in the class, labeling and objectifying them. Like parrots, the boys make the same comments and dutifully repeat what others have said. No form of disagreement is allowed in the group. They talk about sports, discussing wins and losses. They make too much noise. The teacher sighs. Boys will be boys.
She perches on a stool at the front of the class, nearest the door. It’s as if she wants to be able to make a quick escape. Her notes are spread all over the table. They merge with the notes of her friends, and the group she sits with is far more convincing in their act. It could be believed that each person in the group was taking notes. Until they pass along the pieces of paper they have written on. The girls laugh like kookaburras. The teacher sighs again. No one is listening to his lesson.
The boy and the girl sit at opposite ends of the classroom. They sit with opposite groups of friends. And yet they are the same. The teacher watches, subtly, as class ends. The gaggle of girls is out the door as quickly as possible, kookaburra laughter in full flow. The girl in the corner hangs back as she slowly gathers her stuff. Crowing with joy as the school day ends, the boys fly out of the door after the girls. All of them leave, except the boy from the back of the class.
He slowly walks to the girl’s desk and looks around to make sure none of their respective friends are about. Once the all clear is assured, he picks up the girl's books for her, and the pair launch into a discussion of their latest novel.
The teacher grins behind his coffee cup. Though from completely different flocks, the two really are birds of a feather.