Chapter Text
\Anon/
… It’s the first time I’ve worn this jacket without the buttons being pulled tightly into place. Oddly enough, the early mornings in SkinRow are way more damp and cool—not cold, but they sure do have a horror movie feel, what with all this low-hanging fog.
There’s a gentle breeze pushing past the tips of my fingers; the haze of fog only clearing bit by bit as I continue down the cracked path, little sprouts of life bursting up from the gashes. The usual weeds that Mother would talk about, ones she would compare people to at times. With some extreme calm to her voice, she would go on and on about “human nature,” whatever that could mean now that I’ve seen the other side of that pasture…
Wow…
I’m not adopting a bad outlook already, am I? Sure, I have my newfound opinions on my own species, especially my father… It irks me to even think about him at this moment.
SLAM
“Fuck.”
A stinging is presented to my forehead, and a solid structure meets my body with a slam.
I walked into a lamppost.
It seems in my neglect for my own surroundings I’ve made a fool of myself, but this little incident gives me time to take in the new surroundings.
I was blindly following the directions on my phone up to this point.
Fog encapsulates me as I stand still; the misting lowers to my knees, allowing me to take in the new scenery just a few blocks outside of SkinRow. Rows of cookie-cutter houses are on both sides of the two-way street, very neatly packed and situated. Almost robotic in its design and simplicity, but scary as well. Dakota, for how backwards it was, had such nice architecture.
‘Toto, I’ve got a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore!’
Really? That’s the best line I could remember to relate to this moment. I haven’t even watched that movie since I was 13, when Mother wanted me to do that godforsaken play… ughhh, I’m shivering thinking about me dressed up as a tree.
Walking to school—yes, that’s what I was doing.
Gripping the strap of my backpack that I had lazily thrown onto my right shoulder, I tugged forward slightly to conform it more. My shoes feel heavier and heavier with each new step towards a new beginning; a slower and hopefully stable beginning.
My phone vibrates as I round the final corner, met with a view of the side parking lot quickly filling up with my peers' cars; one looks like it just left a turf war—a shame, really, it’s a nice-looking muscle car.
Bullet holes on the side paneling are sending blaring alarms to my head to stay clear of whoever owns that vehicle, no matter how nice the rest of the bodywork is.
That’s the plan anyway, though, Anon: be a fly on the wall, talk when spoken to, don’t try too hard, get good grades, and go home. That’s it.
A glum feeling sweeps across my mind with a flash of Mother’s face; lying to her was hard, saying I’d take this opportunity to finally find others like me. In a school and state full of Saurians… the only outliers are Curtis and Mr. Aaron, and only one of those individuals is in the picture… for emergencies only, oh, and my bike.
BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ
Telltale sign of a StegoStar assault on my poor phone's vibration system; well, I guess just standing around for a bit to check them won’t hurt. I think I got here stupidly early by the looks of the half-empty student parking.
Phone acquired by sweaty palms from my jeans. Thumbing to SnootCord, which I really should just put on the front screen of apps.
“Good morning, Anon!”
“I know we said we’d meet up by the office today, but some gardening club issues came up in the student council office today :(“
“So I’ll have to deal with that before class begins. Send a pic of your schedule when you can!!!”
I'm still not used to her calling me by my actual name.
“No problem, Stella… Is it weird I’m still not used to us using our actual names here?”
For some reason I’m a bit bummed out I won’t have her helping on the first day. Definitely makes this day a little harder without a proper guide; I’ll make do.
“Anon! It’s totally okay to feel like that!”
“I get it, but we’re going to be best buddies, so get used to it, Mr.”
Simply giving her a “fire” emoji reaction, because I can not for the life of me come up with a proper response when she starts being super super chummy. Back to the pocket you go.
Well, better rip this bandaid off now before it becomes even more awkward.
Feeling my feet drag as I approach the bottom of the worst set of stairs I think my body will bear at this point in life. Staring up at the colorful vomit spat out onto railings or just sitting on the concrete steps. All who occupy the space have the lingering morning fog encapsulate their feet. This school looks straight out of Silent Hill…
Holding my backpack strap and planting my eyes slightly towards the ground, I ascend the steps to my own self-isolation.
“Hey, man! Long time no see.”
“Bro, we literally spent the last day of summer together yesterday.”
Conversations begin to form around me, friend groups sharing what they did over the summer or just making the occasional fun at each other's expense.
“Hey, is that a human?”
Shit, can’t be completely invisible, huh?
“Yeah, yeah, damn, where’s his spear? Aren’t they all spear chuckers or something?”
“Shouldn’t he be covered in hair too? You don’t think he’s got… Uh, what’s it called?”
Did that guy just try to say I have cancer? I just happen to be bald—bad genes—plus you all can get cancer too. It's just harder due to scales and other stuff.
Reaching the middle of the steps and looking around, there’s a whole host of people just sneaking glances at me. Various different types of dinos, large wings, feathered and spiked tails, frills that resemble porcupines, and, most importantly, a whole host of snickers and leers.
Judgment is being cast upon me, heavy in its atmosphere.
Stumbling forward, I catch myself leaning on a part of the metal railing to my left. Breath sputtering as I struggle to swallow the growing lump in my throat.
Purple…
Glaringly beautiful. Gemstones rather than eyes lock with mine. I can see the light of the sun shine off said irises as they focus even more on me, peeling my eyes off finally, trying to get a proper view of my eye-tag match.
“Hey! You’re Anon, right?”
A most annoyingly peachy voice and the person it’s attached to block my view. I try to swing my head to either side of her, desperately hoping to locate the person those purple irises belong to; the Parasaur gets in my way every time.
A pair of questioning eyes are thrown my way from the peach-colored Parasaurolophus. Formal clothing, a button-up shirt, a little bow round the collar… Student council, maybe? Her blonde hair is reflecting the sun into my eyes.
“Excuse me?”
On instinct I rub the back of my neck as I realize I’m just full-blown ignoring this girl.
“Oh… y-yes, that would be me.”
A smile… plasticity bleeding from it as she claps her hands together in a giddy response. Her hand finds mine instantly, shaking it stir-crazy…
“Oh, I’m so glad I found you! I’m Naomi, Student Council president, and in this case your guide today.” Thank the lord my hand’s free. “Here, I have a pamphlet I made.”
Placed in my hand is a red pamphlet, complete with the Photoshop skills of a professional at Excel spreadsheets; upon opening it, I’m faced with my answer as to who wrote the school’s online introduction. Sheesh.
Wait, my guide? It’s not that I don’t like her, but I can already read through her facade; it’s like my own, just wayyyy more pushy. The complete opposite of what I’m going for.
“Thank you.”
Two measly and almost whisper-like words are the most I can spit out anymore, and I think I’ll walk into an unskippable cutscene.
“It’s just my job, no thanks required. Now onto some important matters. I was requested to bring you to the office; Principal Spears would like a word with you.”
There’s a serious feeling of foreboding creeping into my skin as Naomi begins to walk towards the large wooden door entrance; I follow suit, trying to peep around and see those purples from earlier. Failing to do so, obviously.
Vines?
Vines are neatly strung across the tops of lockers, covering some in leaves bigger than my head; other areas of the hallway are decorated with low-hanging ceiling flowers. It’s actually really cool-looking for what’s just otherwise a plain high school hallway. The typical tiled floor with that ugly black and blue chip-colored pattern; uniform blue lockers.
“The school has a host of unique designs; its intention is to bring a more comfortable learning environment for all students.”
A little smugness comes from Naomi, which makes me think she may have had a hand in some of this.
“Well, I might’ve had a hand in some of it.”
I’m sure I didn’t mumble that, but it does feel good to be right.
Coming to a full stop, Naomi gestures towards two glass doors; the other side hosts a large lobby area, a long desk, and a receptionist seemingly unaware and locked into her phone.
“You can head into the waiting area; I’ll go tell Mr. Spears you’re here.”
Obliging her, I enter, taking the nearest cushioned seat as I watch her walk off into a corridor, the entrance having a curved arch and a large placard above.
NO MAN CAN WEAR ONE FACE.
TO HIM AND ANOTHER TO
THE MULTITUDE WITHOUT
FINALLY GETTING BEWILDERED
AS TO WHICH MAY BE TRUE
~HAWTHORNE~
Be that God's foreshadowing or my own overthinking taking this quote out of context.
I’m feeling judged by an inanimate object.
I know what’s true; I surely do. Even if I’m going to shut down the idea of my own happiness for now, I’ll be able to put it forward someday, somehow.
Naomi breaks my inner monologuing as I see her creep out from underneath the curved arch.
“He’s ready to see you now! I’ll be waiting for you out here, oh, and it’s the door at the end of the hallway.”
Another smile I hope I don’t have to see every waking moment of today…
Getting up from the chair takes way more energy than anticipated; my palms feel clammy, and my throat tightens again as I walk the long corridor. Does he know why I’m here? Like, really, here? He has to know more than Mr. Aaron would; of course he would.
The black door presents itself to me with a large frame, larger than any door I’ve seen, and Grandpa had to get his doors remodeled when he bought his house in North Dakota.
Knock… Knock… Knock
Three times is the standard formal answer, right?
Yes, Anon, now stop with all the second-guessing.
“Enter”
Feeling the lump slowly go down my esophagus, I grip the cold handle and enter.
Wood, and lots of it. It’s like this office is from the early 70s; all it’s missing is the shag carpet on the walls. Most importantly, is the actual caveman sitting at the desk raising an eyebrow at me as I gawk at the out-of-touch decor?
Shit, fix this, Anon.
Shuffling towards the large mahogany desk, I outstretched my hand. It’s met with a small smile as my hand is absolutely crushed by the superhuman strength of my ancestor.
After a thorough look at my hand, I finally looked at the suited man before me. Principal Spears. A broad figure, squared shoulders, a head of hair that would make any man jealous, and, most importantly, the amount of muscle on this man is insane!
“Please sit, Anon.”
“Of course, sir.”
I’ve dealt with authority figures my whole life; as much as I don’t want to think about him, all I can relate this experience to is when Father would take me on base. Sometimes babysitters couldn’t handle those long hours, so officers and sergeant majors became my substitutes…
The chair’s large; I’m sinking in further and further as I lean back into the cracked brown leather, watching Spears flip through a thick folder. Papers being folded and placed to the side.
Finally I’m met with a grunt; my eyes that were firmly planted on the floor flash to the dark-tinted glasses of Mr. Spears.
“I’m glad to see you got here early. It shows a good character, Anon.”
Spears’s voice is fatherly, but unlike my own, it’s genuinely comforting.
“I spoke with your mother yesterday. I will admit, I had a bit of an irrational feeling when I got the transcript of what happened at Rock Bottom.”
A shiver is sent down my spine at the words…
“But I’m glad your mother cleared up my worries. I understand that you had a rough time towards the end of junior year. I assure you, you are valued here. And will continue to be. All I ask of you is to follow school rules and maintain good grades. Of which I know you're more than highly capable of from the last report cards I skimmed.”
He hasn’t touched on the bullying or why it happened. I’m sure he knows, too, that the school and probably the whole town are ready to throw me under the bus for who I am.
I’ll make sure no repeats happen here.
Mr. Spears smiles as he pushes a paper to the edge of the desk; a pen is placed next to it facing my way.
“I understand if you wish to not discuss that incident. I’ll leave that up to you. Now” A larger-than-life finger taps the desk. “This is a lunch card program slip. I gathered from your mother that you’d most likely be a bit strained on cash. So I had this pre-filled; all you have to do is sign. I will warn you, though, it’s much like a credit card. I expect to have the school's funds paid back by the end of the year.”
There’s the true principal tone in that sentence. It oozes with authority, something I don’t want to mess with.
Also thank Raptor Jesus for Mother; what would I do without her?
Clearing my throat with a slight cough, I lean forward and grip the pen to give my signature.
“Thank you, sir. I’ll be sure to take advantage of my opportunities here.”
Signing the date and placing the pen flat onto the desk, stopping it from rolling with one finger, I lean back into the chair as Mr. Spears hands me what I can only assume is my schedule.
“I’d recommend taking a picture of this, in case you lose it, of course. Oh, and for the card, I’ll have it for you tomorrow in the main lobby. Just had to get this signed.”
Nodding my head, I pull out my phone, earning a slight wind to hit my face; further inspection reveals it’s Mr. Spears with a lingering smirk.
“Older model. I assume you also believe in the surveillance of newer ones too?”
Mr. Spears brings out an even older model phone from his suit's front pouch. It’s bigger than mine, much bulkier, and even still has a headphone jack.
I guess everyone’s got a conspiracy they believe in, even the principal.
“I guess so, sir, plus I’ve put way too much time into making it mine. It would be a waste to get a newer one”
That’s partly true, as much as I would love a newer model. I spent, I think, a month jailbreaking and installing free movie apps when I first got it.
“That’s quite understandable, son.”
Picture taken and set as my home screen for now until I get it memorized. Spears gives a little waving gesture towards the door; that’s my cue.
One foot out of the station and onto the platform, I guess.
“Oh, and one more thing, Anon. Take a good look at that placard before you leave the lobby.”
I can see Mr. Spears' dark hazel eyes as he peers through the rim of his shades. The feeling in them is enough to make my fingers twitch.
“I’ll be sure to, sir.”
Without waiting for another word, I begin my walk out into the lobby, passing underneath the placard; waiting for me, tapping on her phone, a blushing smile plastered on her face, is Naomi.
“O-oh! Anon”
She jumps slightly as I just sort of stand there.
“You scared me for a second.”
That bubbly tone really makes me think otherwise, but the blushing from earlier gives me an idea as to what or who she may have been texting, I assume, on the phone.
“My bad.”
Naomi nods before lunging her hand towards my schedule, which I completely forgot I was holding.
A piercing squeal, then ringing in my ears as I watch her vigorously shake with a sugar-filled glee.
“We have English together! Let’s hurry before the tardy bell rings.”
Hand firmly captured in her claw prison I’m being whisked away; how many times is this going to happen again?
—And Then It’s Hard—
It feels like there are a few thousand eyes on me; it’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before. It’s just a class introduction since I’m new… being a bit nervous is like a rite of passage.
“Like Mr. Tsuki said, I’m Anon. I recently moved here from North Dakota.” A few eyes disappear. “My main hobby is electronics and just general electrical work.” More than half the class just lost interest.
Yeah, it’s not like I’m stuttering or slurring words. Doing a proper intro is key to blending in.
A hand is shot up. Cream-colored... Naomi…
“What was your school back in North Dakota like?”
The only question I really don't want to answer…
My palms feel sweaty, and a ringing begins to settle in my ears as I swirl into the few last memories I have of Rock Bottom. My airway feels blocked, and my mouth begins to taste like raw metal; it’s almost like I can feel the slow creep of blood being swallowed from an all-too-harsh impact.
Jumping slightly as I feel a clawed hand on my shoulder.
“Are ushu okay, Anon?”
Mr. Tsuki’s kimono-robed hand is all my eyes can land on as I realize I almost just broke down in front of the whole class.
“I-I’m fine, Mr. Tsuki.”
He gives a nod as he retracts his hand to point out the classroom; nodding, I head right to the back, the only open desk, planting my ass down, tossing the backpack underneath my chair as I shove my head into my hands.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, Anon, you actual klutz. Spaz, or any other word we can think of. Breaking down like that just from a simple little question—to my mind it wasn’t simple, it was harsh, almost a personal attack on my own memories.
I have to get a grip.
“I wouldn’t be so harsh on yourself, Anon.”
A familiar voice; turning my head, I met with the soft-spoken and blue-eyed Stella.
“Thank Raptor Jesus, I was beginning to think I’d escaped the teasing you’d do if I explained that botched opener later.”
My special brand of sarcasm isn’t lost on her as she snickers.
“Oh, don’t worry, Anon; while I’m beating your ass on RockRing, I’ll be sure to rag on how boringly you explained your interests.”
Stella nudges my shoulder across the aisle, further capturing my attention.
“Seriously though, give yourself a break, yeah? It’s a new day, hey, I was thinking,” Stella reaches into her bag, pulling out a purple suede box. “Let me give you a tarot reading!”
She squeals a bit on the last word, causing Mr. Tsuki to tap the board with his wooden practice sword. Stella straightens up. Offering apologies, I can’t help but chuckle a bit; it feels good to talk to her. One friend is more than enough.
“Hey, quit laughing at me.”
A small pout is presented on her snout, kind of making me chuckle more. How can she be so expressive to the point it looks animated?
“Hmph… I’ll just let you rot then. No fortune for you.”
“My apologies, Lord Stella. Please, I’ll crumble without my fortune.”
I clasp my hands together, interlocking my fingers in a prayer position as I shake them lightly towards her. Half-lidding my eyes as I plead.
Stella opens her tarot box, carefully grabbing the gold- and purple-rimmed cards. Shuffling them as if she’s done this a million and one times already. It’s pretty impressive.
“I guess I could forgive you. You are but a peon in my world.”
A mock voice of superiority, sort of reminding me of a certain Dragon Ball villain; she turns to me, spreading the cards out.
“Alright, all you have to do is pick three cards. The first one is the past, the second is the present, and the third is the future, of course.”
For some odd reason, I’m feeling tense as I hover my hand towards the cards. I’m not superstitious by a long shot, so why would these funky-looking pieces of cardboard make me feel so uneasy?
Drawing my first card and placing it down, Stella immediately pounces on it. Flipping it over with glee. Her eyes focused in, and a contemplative expression formed over her features.
“The Hermit, upright. Contemplation, a search for truth and inner guidance; as much as this is vague, the stars picked this for you. It symbolizes how you felt, trying to find where you fit in as you try to isolate yourself.”
Placing my hand over the felt rim of the card, a picture of a little gnome covered in a black robe. Standing upon a cliff edge looking out towards the rising sun.
It’s sort of right… I spent so much time in the past isolating myself while trying to find myself. Making it all the more difficult, and when I finally found an inner truth, it was squashed, snuffed out by the one who allowed me to find it.
Without a word I draw my second card; Stella once again rushes to flip it.
“Strength reversed… Self-doubt, weakness, and insecurity.” Stella’s hand finds my shoulder, giving it a good squeeze. “I know this may not be the card you wanted to be representing the present, but the beauty of this is… that it will change.”
I cover her hand, gently peeling it off from my shoulder. I can see the frown curl on her lips; she didn’t feel the need to explain this one as in-depth. Because it’s as self-explanatory as it gets, and it’s right. It’ll remain to be right; I won’t let a card change my decision.
“I appreciate the comfort, Stella… Let’s just continue.”
The third and final card—this time I’m a bit apprehensive when picking it. That feeling from earlier became hefty, like it’s weighing down my back, let alone my mind.
“The Devil, reversed. Now this is pretty good despite the naming.” When did I draw the card? “It symbolizes freedom, a much-needed release, and restoring control to oneself. Something’s going to change for the better, Anon, and I’m willing to bet it’ll start in this school.”
Stella’s practically beaming with newfound enthusiasm at my last card's outcome; the weight I felt floats off, or rather feels as though it was never there in the first place.
I’m happy Stella’s happy, but I’m going to let her prediction down. Even if I don’t want to, I feel like what she’s thinking may be the complete opposite as to when the card comes true.
“I think everything will go in your favor, Anon. I believe in you.”
Stella holds my hands together, snapping me out of my self-deprecating thoughts. Her eyes allowed me to focus somewhere else for once.
I’m thinking like Dad…
I don’t want to become like him.
Stella’s hands squeeze mine firmly.
“Look here. You won’t become like your father, Anon. And if you even think of becoming like that, I’ll personally beat you up.”
The line between comfort and teasing is blurred as I can’t help but smile at her words.
It only hurts when my eyes are shut, making myself remember and overanalyze everything that’s led me to this moment. Even if I still don’t believe I had nothing to do with it, it’s nice to be reassured.
“You deserve to know who you are, Anon.”
Stella retracts her hands as I rub my eyes, trying to stop whatever tears may have threatened to form while I was stuck in my head.
“Thanks, Stella. I needed that.”
“Of course, silly. Now, a pressing matter.”
Stella proceeded to completely go full-blown otaku on me; she pulled me out of a rough rut just to shove me into a shark tank of… well… bad takes, not even hot ones, just bad.
—That Burnt the Knowing—
HomeEC, I have a feeling Mom picked this elective for me. At least I have a simple class as my second period, and thankfully I was able to duck Naomi with Stella when the huge crowd filled the hallways.
“Alrighty, Anon, I got math, so I’ll catch you on the flip. Remember, Home Ec is the third door as soon as you go up those stairs!”
Stella slightly shouts as she walks backwards down the hallway; the swaying of her plated tail makes sure the area is clear for her to walk—convenient.
Sometimes I wish I got those monkey genes some kids back home had. Maybe I’d have hair…
Nah, the Mous curse would find a way, and you know it.
True…
Heading upstairs, I’m greeted with… emptiness?
It’s almost barren up here; only a few students shuffle about, and there are plenty of curtained classrooms without numbers. It’s a total 180 from the organized chaos of the first floor; there are no decorative vines, no hanging flowers. Just bright yellowing luminescent lights, the ones that would break if you tapped them. The floors discolored slightly and filled with chair marks, like people had just been pushing their full weight as they moved. Why in the hallway, I have no clue.
Whatever, I guess every school has one bad-looking part.
Walking around, at least not aimlessly, I’m met with a tall but rather small in width trophy case sitting between two bathroom doors.
[Triannual Bake-Off: Freshman Year is presented to Sage Campbell.]
It’s a small-looking gold cake, a singular candle upon the icing.
[St. Hammond vs. Volcano High culinary battle: Sophomore Year is presented to Sage Campbell.]
This Sage fella’s definitely good at cooking; this trophy’s even more impressive looking: a large ice cream cone, the cone itself being gold while the ice cream is silver and sprinkled with bronze pellets.
One last thing presents itself: a picture frame of a large tray. It’s decorated with a multitude of Rexican-looking dishes, but if you look further, they seem to be made from dough! Mock desserts, I think they're called.
[The State Baking Contest award of excellence is presented to Sage Campbell.]
My mouth is watering as I imagine what else this Sage person can accomplish with the proper ingredients…
Now I’m hungry; catching me off guard, the first tardy bell rings… Shit, I've got to get going.
Finding the spot Stella pointed out to me, I’m faced with a baby blue paper-wrapped door; the teacher's name is spelled out in those party favor letters you’d find at a Dino General.
{Mrs. Aaron}
There’s no way. What are the chances that this is Mr. Aaron’s wife hosting my class?
Hastily I grip the door and make my way inside, only to find that the majority of students have taken their seats. A few pick up their heads to glance at me. A particular one gives me a wave, a short Microraptor, oddly enough having almost the same exact skin color as me.
I guess I’m not the only one who can’t get a suntan.
They seem to have that androgynous look too; I can’t place whether they're male or female.
Suddenly they waved me over, a large smile placed on the tip of their snout. Guess I’m not getting out of this; no other table has a seat open. Walking over to the right side of the classroom, rounding behind the island-like table. I’m greeted with a fashion sense I’ve never seen before.
“Don’t be shy, take a seat.”
Okay, now I’m very confused; the voice doesn’t help me pinpoint the gender either…
“O-oh, my bad… got stuck in my head there for a second.”
My nerves get the better of me as I respond, We’re doing great, aren’t we, Anon?
Sitting down on the red padded stool, it reminds me of an old school diner from some old movie. Time-traveling car or something… I’ll figure it out later.
“I’m Sage; it’s good to meet you, Anon.”
A small, violet-scaled hand is thrust out to me, and a swinging tail of similar-colored feathers catches my eyes for a moment.
Wait… how does this blue-overalled Microraptor know who I am? Another thing: THIS IS THE MULTI-AWARD-WINNING SAGE???
Their eyes widen slightly as they clamp a hand to their snout.
“I’m so sorry, I promised Stella I wouldn’t do that… Damn, well, we’re here now. I’m one of Stella’s buddies! I’m in the gardening club; she couldn’t stop talking about a human she talks to online being enrolled here officially today.”
I feel my heart stop beating so hard. I’m surprised I’m just now picking up on how panicked I must have been; hopefully this doesn’t become a new normal. I’m going to have to talk to Stella about that… Wait, that’s not fair; she was just excited to meet me in person. How am I to tell her not to talk to her friends?
I extend my hand to Sage. I feel a small smile forming on the corner of my lips as I watch Sage's whole expression brighten; they seem upbeat.
“It’s fine; Stella’s a good online friend of mine, so I’m not surprised she couldn’t contain herself when she learned I was attending.”
Sage shakes my hand with confidence before we both let go.
“You should have seen how she was spamming me on the bus moving here and walking to school today.”
Sage chuckles.
“I’m glad to see she doesn't change her texting habits with others.”
Sage gives another chuckle as they prop their legs up to adjust the hem on the yellow knee-high socks they decided to match with pink sneakers…
“Are you judging my fashion sense already, Anon?”
Thrusting my hands out into a rapidly increasing jazz hands number.
“No, no! I… I”
Sage lets out a smug laugh.
“I’m messing with you, Anon; I know my fashion sense is unique to say the least.”
Sage brushes a lock of violet hair out of the way of their pale pink eyes. Even the haircut isn’t helping me figure out a gender. Guess I’ll just settle on using they/them for right now.
The class door bangs into place, causing me and Sage to cut the banter short as a rather short-looking Ptero calmly walks into the room. Wearing a green shirt resembling my own jacket and a lightly floral-patterned pink apron.
Everyone’s attention is instantly dragged to her. The dolphin-colored woman, who I can only assume to be Mrs. Aaron, claps her hands together with a smile. Her feathered wings flap slightly as they settle against her back.
Her eyes are sealed shut... How does she see?
“I’m so glad to be back with everyone! And I’m even more thrilled to see we have a new student joining us.”
It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out who she’s talking about.
“Anon, would you please come up and introduce yourself to the class?”
I’ll never get used to this, but at least I can rehearse it.
Taking my time, I head to the front of the class. Mrs. Aaron moves to the side so I can have front and center. Most of my classmates look highly disinterested; a few just go back to their phones, beside Sage, who gives me all of their attention. Taking a deep breath, I get ready to present myself as amazingly boring.
“Class. I’d appreciate it if we gave Anon our undivided attention.”
A phantom chill spreads across my body, and it definitely spreads throughout the rest of the class, as every student immediately eyes me. Mrs. Aaron has just been confirmed, at least in my head, to be Mr. Aaron’s wife, and I think she taught him how to be intimidating…
Scratching a non-existent itch in my nose, I try to focus back on myself.
“My name’s Anon. I moved from North—
A loud bang is heard beyond the classroom door. Then a stream of cursing before two plum-colored eyes peer into the classroom from the tiny part of the window not covered by the wrapping paper.
“Ah… Nothing ever changes, I see.”
Mrs. Aaron speaks under her breath as she opens the door to an average-heighted Velociraptor, well, probably a giant if you compare the two right now. He’s a dark shade of red with stripes of black across his bare arms, a tan tank top with a smiley face on it, and it’s promptly paired with baggy black jeans… white Nikes… dirt-covered… shame.
“I’m sorry I’m late; Mrs. Aaron had to help out my baby bro with his drums. Here, I got a note from Mr. Spears this time.”
The rasp on this guy's voice is incredible; he definitely goes hard on the menthols.
Mrs. Aaron takes the note softly from the guy's hand, reading it carefully, like she’s trying to examine if it’s fake or not.
“Alright, Ryker, please go take your seat. We have a new student that was just introducing himself.”
Ryker… cool name.
Ryker heads past me, giving me a little Shaka wave as he heads towards Sage, who promptly redirects him to the seat across the table. He was about to plant into mine. Sorry, man, didn’t mean to take the seat.
“Go ahead, Anon.”
Mrs. Aaron heads back to her spot off to the side of me with a warm smile.
“I recently moved here from North Dakota; my main hobby is anything to do with electronics or just electrical stuff in general.”
Another close-to-monotone intro is done, and now I’m free to go back to sitting down.
The class all give up their attention as I make my way back to Sage and now Ryker as well; Mrs. Aaron begins to write on the whiteboard as I sit down next to Sage.
“Think you can fix my van's stereo, man?”
Ryker's voice comes out slow, and it looks like he almost stops breathing after finishing the sentence; Sage slaps Ryker's hand on the table lightly, prompting Ryker to raise his hand in a surrender pose.
“Introduce yourself first before asking a favor, idiot.”
Sage huffs.
Ryker's hand thrusts to me; his claws are slightly longer than most Raptors I’ve seen, and he also painted them baby blue?
“It’s good to meet you, Ryker.”
Wow, any less enthusiastic and he’d probably think you’re dead; invisibility is the plan, but not unpleasant.
“Same man.” Ryker turns around to the front of the class, a wide smile washing his face as he turns back. “Check it, free period, gotta love Mrs. Aaron.”
“Yeah, she’s literally the best teacher.”
Sage agrees almost immediately.
“Without her I would’ve never improved my cooking skills so quickly; she’s the reason I pushed myself to join those contests.”
Ryker rolls his eyes as he raises his eyebrows at me in a “watch this” expression.
“Woooow, Sage, it took you all of ten seconds to brag to the new guy. Trying to adopt him into the fan club already?”
Ryker lets out a snicker as Sage instantly turns a shade darker while pouting. They quickly begin to flick pieces of crumbs that were left on the table at him. Those crumbs were presumably left there over the summer…
“Ack, Sage, those things… Stop.” Ryker tries to block the bullets. “Those crumbs are like rocks.”
I can’t help but chuckle a bit at the little rivalry happening between me; I know I’m going way against what I set out to do here, but Sage is Stella’s friend, and Ryker’s just a bro, I think.
. . .
We spent a good chunk of the class just talking about random stuff. Sage and I talked about how Stella loves trash anime but somehow can always pick a good one to watch with others without a doubt; meanwhile, Ryker was showing me photos of his extensive Hot Wheels collection that he swears will pick up traction in the CaveBook marketplace.
“Hey Anon, what type of music do you like, man?”
Ryker's calm rasp breaks my monologuing thoughts; what music did I really like?
“I'm definitely a boomer rock guy, but not like yacht rock, even though that’s good too; I’m more of an old metal guy, I guess? Some punk too.”
Ryker nods his head with a smile.
“Hell yeah, man.” He gives Sage a look, like he’s trying to gauge their reaction. “Hey, my baby bro’s having a concert with his band in the auditorium after school. If you like punk, you should come.”
Sage taps my shoulder lightly to get my attention.
“Yeah, Anon, definitely come. Stella and I can save you a seat if anything.”
Should I really go? I was invited; it shouldn't be a problem to just check out what other talents this school does host.
“Sure, why not?”
—96 Quite Bitter Beings—
Math being the third period wasn’t too horrible… is what I wish I could think. No, Naomi was berating me with a million and one questions a minute, not even stopping when the only human teacher I’ve seen began to just whisper profanities towards her.
Don’t know how she didn’t catch all the “frickens.”
“Anon, you should sit with me and Naser today! He’s just getting started in the council, and I think you’d get along with him.”
Naomi’s voice is teetering on calculating before it tips right back into that keen, pushy cheerfulness she layers on like gravy on mashed potatoes.
I really am southern in some ways… Damn you, Kansas middle school!
Throwing my backpack over my shoulder as the bell rings, but this time I won’t be released from my peach-colored leash.
A wall of saurian flesh blocks Naomi and my path, barely just letting the door open enough for us to sneak through.
“Everyone! Please act civilized for one day!”
Naomi, it’s safe to say you have to warn me when you do that; my eardrums are killing me, but her message seems to get across to those who listened. A few groups collapse into themselves as they continue to walk, allowing a more open space to be presented. Not without me dodging a tail or two.
Naomi actually parts these kids like it’s the Red Sea. That’s not good for me, though. I could care less how quickly I get my food; all these people are staring at me like I just canned their hunt.
Along the walls, chicken-wired windows began to replace the cream-colored bricks. Posters advertising after-school clubs were strung up; some were put up expertly, like the Gardening Club, but some were just lazily taped up, like the Gaming Club.
Naomi took a sharp turn that made me pivot on my heel to catch up, leading into the packed cafeteria; if I thought the hallway was crowded, then that line must be a small city off the coast at this point.
“Ahh, Naseypooh!”
Nasey-wha?
“Babe… not in public.”
While I was busy disassociating, I failed to see the… Younger Mr. Aaron?
“My dad?! Where?”
The sandy brown Petro I mistook as a Mr. Aaron lookalike immediately unlatched his arm off Naomi while rapidly thrusting his head around the cafeteria, piercing his eyes through crowds and then the exits and entrances like a tweaker.
Should I stop him?
“No need, Anon.” I should stop trying to hold back the mumbling if it’s going to happen anyway. “Naser, honey, he’s not here; relax,” Naomi coos softly as she holds Naser’s shoulders firmly.
As soon as they both relax, I’m thrown an extremely questioning look from both…. I feel a heat rise to my face.
Naser’s the first one to move, coming really close into my personal space. His ember-lit eyes stare into me. One wing spread slightly, the same orange stripes his dad has presented themselves with a few light lines of scarring. The other wing flutters slightly, covered in scars.
“How do you know my dad?”
The words are laced with growing frustration. Let’s connect a few dots here. Only human teenager, Naser’s dad is a police commissioner. Surely Naser is thinking why I’m fearing he thinks…
Lying isn’t even an option here; I’m sure not only Naser would read through me, but he’d surely ask his dad why the newest kid at school knows him.
Breathing in deeply, letting the breath leave slowly, trying to steady the heat layering my forehead from causing a total shutdown of coherent thought.
“Look, I just moved here a few days ago by myself; my grandpa is pals with your dad.” Naser’s expression changes from growing frustration to realization. “He drove me to my apartment and helped move in my stuff.”
Naser backs up, whipping his clawed hand over his beak; a harsh exhale is dropped from his nose.
“So that’s why Dad was so late that night… My bad, man.” A hand is outstretched to me. “I’m Naser; it’s good to meet you.”
I grip his hand, expecting the same test his dad had given me, only for Naser to wince slightly. I quickly release him with a growing embarrassment forming on my face.
“Oh… I’m sorry, man. I—
“Expecting the same handshake like my father’s?”
“Yeah…” Good job, Anon.
Naser rubs his assaulted hand slightly before smirking a little.
“I can see why you’re still in one piece after meeting Dad; that’s a killer grip, man.”
Shit, I was barely able to contain my discomfort when I shook Mr. Aaron’s hand.
Naser laughs before hitting the signature cop pose, hands on hips.
“That sounds like Dad alright.”
Naomi comes up next to Naser, interlocking her hand with his. Naser stiffens up slightly before settling back into a calmer posture.
“Naser… let’s head to the table before it gets stolen like last time.” Naomi drags Naser off; I follow suit.
. . .
“Wow… North Dakota, right? What made you come all the way over here, especially by yourself?. Oh, what was North Dakota like? Do you have any other hobbies?”
My brain starts to melt as I’m hit with a tornado of questions from the peach-colored lighting in a bottle across from me; I desperately look towards Naser.
Pleaseeee get the hint!!
Naser’s eyes finally meet mine, widening slightly; he chokes on his sandwich before putting it down.
“Naomi, look at the poor guy; you’re frying his brain.”
Naomi’s cheeks blush slightly before lifting her salad up to her maw. Wait… salad? No problem with that, but it’s just a pure leafy salad… couldn’t be me.
“Started the fun without me?”
Ryker’s hand is firmly pressed into my shoulder as he uses me for support to sit down. In his free hand is the biggest leg of ham I’ve ever seen, and I’ve been to renaissance fairs before…
Naser lets out a small scoff before averting his eyes; beef, I sense.
“Aww, don’t be like that, Naseypooh.”
Naomi’s face perks up as Ryker uses the pet name she coined.
“Y-you’re not allowed to use that!”
For once Naomi isn’t squealing, but it’s definitely not a nice sound coming out from her either; Ryker raises his hands up in the signature surrender gesture, slightly shaking his hands.
“Enough with the jazz hands, Ryker. What do you want to leech from the council assets this time?”
Naser’s tone is highly accusatory… And I’m starting to feel like a forgotten thought here. Getting what I want, I suppose.
Ryker lets out a sigh.
“Ha ha ha, Naser, real funny man. When have I ever done such a thing?”
Naser and Naomi both blankly stare at him, tight-lipped and unamused by his statement.
“Okay… maybe I have, but I’m here to just check in on my buddy here.” A heavy pat is leveled against my shoulder. “If I knew he was going to get arrested by the cops, I would have nabbed him sooner.”
Naomi lets out a curt huff before crossing her arms.
“For your information, I didn’t ‘arrest’ him; it’s my duty as Student Council president to help new students.”
Naser nods.
“Yeah, Ryker, Naomi just wanted to introduce Anon to me while helping him out.”
Naser is very quick to defend his girlfriend; it’s a good quality. Hopefully.
Ryker removes his hand from my shoulder, opting to just rest his hand on the table. Giving me a side-eye before letting out a calm sigh.
“Alright, alright, you two win the battle, but the war is still ongoing.” Turning to me, Ryker gives me a small smile. “Anon, you're still up for watching the band, right?”
Oh, shit... I forgot about accepting that offer.
“Uhh… Yeah, I’m still down.”
“Good shit, man. Well, I’ll see y'all later then. Oh, and Anon, don’t let them get into your head.”
With that sarcastic warning, Ryker takes his exit, his tail lightly whipping the table before settling.
Funny guy.
—Demolition Derby—
“So I noticed you didn’t eat, man. You okay?”
Ryker waves his hand in front of my face as we stand outside the auditorium’s massive floral-designed doors. The metal is etched with tons of gold and white flowers.
“Earth to Anon. Maybe you really do need to eat.”
Oh, shit.
“My bad, Ryker, was just lost in this door.”
Am I stupid?
Ryker laughs lightly before patting my back.
“I remember my first time staring at this door, totally feeling you, man, but we got a concert to see, bro. Trust me, my brother's drumming will blow you away.”
I think Ryker’s a total bro; he didn’t even judge me for just staring at the door like a total goober.
Without much hesitation, Ryker pushes the door open, and I follow through; Sage spots us as they turn around—they are really waving at us.
“That’s Sage for you; he’s really so upbeat all the time. I’m hoping some of that rubs off on the rest of this school.”
First, I now have Sage's gender confirmed. Second, Ryker just had some profound thoughts out of nowhere. The tone was more serious than usual.
Walking down the lit aisle towards the front row, I’m greeted with the raised stages decorated in front; the wood paneling has this nice brown staining to it. The main stage, however, has its huge red curtains closed.
“Anon! Ryker! Sit, sit.”
Stella pats the empty seats next to her; Ryker does a little bow and steps to the side.
“Newbies first.”
Rolling my eyes I take my seat next to Stella; the chair squeaks underneath my weight. At least the padding is soft.
Within minutes practically the whole school fills in through the auditorium, and so does the smell of cheesy pizza. Some real good shit by the smell.
Turning my head towards the entrance, I see Naser having what looks like to be the worst phone call of his entire life at the moment before taking his exit.
Wonder what the hell happened there.
“It’s his sibling. Fang doesn’t like Naser all that much; none of us really know the real reason. What I do know is that there weren’t supposed to be this many people.”
Stella whispers to me as people fill in behind us, This could go badly then.
“Did Naser bring the pizzas?”
My question earns me a round of nods of varying speeds and levels from the group; question answered.
The lights dim as the last few students enter, the large door making a heavy slam as it closes in the back of the room; the stage curtains open up…
Purple… Those gemstones… they’re here.
Our eyes meet for a split second; I feel a heat rise up my neck and to my face. Those purple gems shut their eyes. Cutting off my trance. I can finally get a look at who they belong to.
The drummer, a pink Velociraptor. The same stripe markings as Ryker, but instead of black, it’s just a lighter pink, more like a salmon; and the tail on him is huge, those feathers probably feel like a down pillow.
“You got this, Reed!”
Ryker’s cheering cuts my thoughts off but gives me a name to the face.
His brother.
They share the same fashion, it seems: tank top, check; jeans, check. Only this time the tank's red, and Reed's black jeans are tight and have jagged rips by the look of it, or from what I can see past the large drum set.
Shaking my head slightly, I take a look towards the rest of the band.
A Petro that heavily resembles Mrs. Aaron, of whom I can safely now assume that’s Fang, Naser’s sibling as described to me, although they look very feminine in a black crop top and tight ripped leggings. Her wings are shivering and are spread wide. Not good.
The last member of the trio band is a Trike. A few different shades of purple, a yellow hoodie with some weird logo on it, and simple tracksuit sweats.
What’s really standing out is… oh… two basses. I may not be a music nerd or even really have a wide music taste, but I know two basses usually isn’t a thing.
“It’s going to be another shitshow.”
“Should have brought popcorn instead of pizza.”
“Maybe the meteor is going to hit; this might be a warning.”
I give a look towards Stella; she looks absolutely disgusted, while Sage is trying to talk Ryker down. He’s currently hovering over his chair; I think he’s ready to lay into the people behind us.
SCREECH BZZZURT
A harsh tone shuts up the entire auditorium as I fling my hands to my sensitive human ears; the feedback was directly in front of me… fuck.
Ears still ringing as I release my hands, I watch Reed start the countdown; Fang lifts her head up, closing her eyes before she lays into the bass. The Trike follows shortly after.
The cacophony is like a cat being scraped against an iron washboard, the two basses drowning out any rhythm the drums can make, causing the two lead basses to clash and fight for dominance through the reverberating speakers.
The lyrics barely come through before a student from behind launches a slice of pizza towards the stage, landing squarely onto Fangs bass; the sound stops from all fronts. A heavy silence fills the space.
“Time for another extinction event!”
“Right in front of my pizza, you have to suck? Really?!”
“Somebody shoot my non-existent ears off before I go insane over here!”
Hundreds of shouts, jeers, and hideous laughter filter through towards the stage.
The purple Trike holds onto her bass for dear life, while Reed blankly stares out into the crowd; the beautiful indigo of his eyes dimming.
“FUCK ALL OF YOU!”
Fang yells into the mic, causing her clapback to reverberate throughout the entire room; Reed takes this chance to grab the Trike and slip behind an exit.
“NO ONE WOULD WANT TO FUCK YOU, BITCH!”
Fang freezes as the words echo from behind me; I’m rounding my head to see a tall, cream-and-blue-patterned Spinosaurus.
If he was wearing any more of a tighter shirt, it’d fly off him; he definitely doesn’t have the body for it.
Before I can even think, I’m being snatched up by my collar.
I fucking mumbled that.
“What’d you say, dickhead?”
I’m eye to eye with this prick; his dull browns turn into pinpricks as he squeezes my jacket's collar harder. I gaze around to see Stella and Sage looking upset and fearful; Ryker, however, is climbing over the chairs to push against my attacker, subsequently making him drop me back to my feet.
“Get your claws off him, douchebag! Why dish it if you can’t take it”
Ryker is stanced up, one foot behind the other. Fuck, fuck, I didn’t want this to happen. Why did he even go to defend me? We just met, and I dug my own grave. Why’d he dig me up…
RAUHHHH
A primal roar cuts through the situation as a flying door shoots through the room, landing onto the stage, causing it to get embedded by its side; Fang must have already exited during the scuffle.
“WHO DO I HAVE TO SUPLEX?”
Principal Spears' voice tears through the tense atmosphere, causing most, if not all, students to disperse out every exit they can find that’s not the main one. It’s like a scene out of a slasher flick—one problem. That leaves me, Ryker, Sage, Stella, and the Spino standing still.
Mr. Spears bum-rushes towards us; his heavy hand instantly lands on Spino's shoulder, causing his knees to buckle slightly.
“Stella and Sage, you two are good. Please head on home.”
Mr. Spears' voice is oddly calm for just having to shout at the whole school.
Sage and Stella give Ryker and me an apologetic look before hurrying out the main exit, one of the doors clearly missing.
“Now… I can already tell what happened here. Just by how you three are positioned. Anon and Ryker!”
The slight shout makes me stiffen to attention, arms at my sides and my feet together from the heels. Ryker stands taller than usual and looks rigid.
“I’ll have a word with you two first thing tomorrow morning. Now both of you leave.”
You don’t have to tell me twice, and neither do you have to tell Ryker; long story short, we both bolted without looking back. We ran so far we made it to the parking lot.
Hands on my knees, I’m sucking in the fresh air like I’m trying my damndest to drink it.
I haven’t been out of breath so quickly in my life.
“You can say that again, man; we are so screwed tomorrow, we'll probably get some sort of detention.”
Ryker’s 100% right; there’s no way I’ll get off scot-free… Maybe I can talk Spears into giving Ryker some leeway. It was my fault after all.
“Hey… I’ll try to convince Mr. Spears to let you off.”
Ryker’s hand grips my shoulder, a serious look.
“Nah, man… We’re… in this together. I wasn’t going to let him…” A huff is exhaled. “Let him manhandle you, bro.”
Ryker extends his fist to me. I return the gesture. Knuckle to knuckle, our fate is sealed.
“Hey! Ryker, are you going to catch your breath all day, or are we going home, bro?”
Looking up, I spot a faded red van, chips of paint falling off. The driver's side window rolled down, letting me look… at… purple.
The familiar heat creeps up my neck, striking my cheeks as I stare into Reed’s eyes. He stares back, and I swear I can see him blush as well; maybe I’m imagining things.
Ryker waves a hand in my face.
“Aye, you good man? You're all red.”
“Ah! Y-yeah! I’m fine… totally fine.”
Oh my god, what the hell is happening?
“Reed, I’ll be there in a moment, just checking on Anon. He’s gone all red for some reason. Seriously, you should see this. He looks like those tomatoes Rosa has in her backyard.”
STOP POINTING IT OUT, UGHHHHH.
“Reed?”
Silence
“Sorry, Anon. It looks like Reed’s also having a brain fart. I shouldn’t keep him waiting. I’ll see you tomorrow bright and early, man.”
Ryker slaps my back, causing me to lose balance slightly before I restabilize myself. Watching him approach the driver's side window, blocking my view of Reed.
“You're all red too! What the hell’s going on here?! The flu going around or something?”
Reed's blushing too? Is that good? Isn’t that a bit weird? Am I weird… We haven’t even talked; it’s not like love at first sight exists, because I have no clue what this feeling is at all.
I have to get home.
—Closing Time—
Opening the apartment door and flinging my bookbag onto the mattress, I flop onto my ass on the carpet. All I can take away from the last few moments is locking eyes with Reed, some sort of biological response connecting our reactions.
Johnny…
It took a while to develop a crush on Johnny… maybe half a year. That’s normal, but this feeling with Reed is different. It’s not justified, nor does it have any sense to it.
It was eye contact, not even a conversation.
Getting up and heading to the kitchen, I swing my head under the sink, turn it on, and drink as much water as I can before choking slightly. Sending myself into a coughing fit.
“Fuck… bad idea.”
Shower…
Yes, a good idea; I’ll clear my head.
. . .
The fog of the shower spreads into my main living space, the towel tightly wrapped around my waist as I go to sit on my bed. Softly applying the ointments to the still lingering bruises.
Today was… interesting.
From totally ignoring my main plan to getting into student council drama by just existing, I also learned that no matter if they're not human, Dino’s insults are all the same.
And the most important part is I have a new and, quite frankly, scary emotion or feeling that’s building for a guy I haven’t even talked to, and he might be feeling the same…
Ughhhhh… I want to die.
Where the hell is my underwear?
. . .
White tee on, underwear found, alarm set, and phone on the charger. Hopefully I can get a good sleep before having to have my ass chewed out on my second day of school….