Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The usual vibrant splendor I’d come to expect out of the passenger side window of a car driving down one of Volcaldera Bluff’s winding highways had faded away, replaced by a much older and rough-around-the-edges picture one would imagine when driving in the quote-unquote “Bad Part” of town. Of course, there was an entirely logical reason for this; St. Hammond was located in the newer and more refined half of the city, recently implemented within the last couple decades.

The high-school Mr. Iadakan was driving us to, however- was not. Ben and I both got an earful during the first section of the ride all about Volcano High. It wasn’t a specialized school like the one we’re enrolled in, just a normal public school that wasn’t nearly as selective as St. Hammond High. Or specifically dedicated to the arts. All in all, from the things Mr. Iadakan was saying and my own past experiences in run-of-the-mill schools, I think I knew what to expect when we got there.

Playing back the memory in my head of when my flamboyant pterodactyl teacher held me after class to explain that he had a job to do for me, something for extra credit since I had missed a handful of assignments- I reach up and cup my chin, turning my gaze to the back of the driver’s seat while the intricacies of the events come to the surface of my head. A photography gig for another high-school, taking beauty shots and giving a so-called dull place of learning a new coat of paint. 

Most people would probably complain about being forced to do makeup work, especially for an out-of-your control reason like getting sick, but the severity of my sick leave was partially my fault; and I loved doing work for photography class. I didn’t carry around my handy-dandy DSLR for no reason.

A rattling sound from the trunk draws both Ben and I’s gaze to the back of the car, briefly exchanging a silent look of worry with each other before returning to staring out of our windows. We’d done a fine job securing all the photography equipment, I’m sure. Ben even pat the trunk twice with an assuring “That’s not going anywhere.” when we got finished.

There was still a few pieces of gear left in the back seat with us, a couple of stands and larger items we couldn’t cram into the trunk. Ben had one hand on a stack of telescoping tripods, using the other to hold his phone while he swiped his thumb up and down across the screen. My hand falls from my chin, grasping the handle of my trusty DSLR. I was..confident, this should at least be fun.

The car jostles, engine humming slightly louder and more aggressively as Mr. Iadakan peels through a recently turned green light. Looking back out of the window, we’ve found ourselves burning rubber in a run-down and dilapidated strip of neighborhood. Every building had some kind of blemish, whether it was peeling wallpaper revealing aged brick or every surface being plastered in graffiti.

Geez, this place looked rough. Strangely enough, a lot of the homeless people milling about on the sidewalks are humans; some of the first I’ve seen in a while. It was a depressing sight, couldn’t help but feel bad for them. Mr. Iadakan catches my gawking, addressing my unspoken questions.

“Skin Row, my boy.” I lean around the seat to look at our chauffeur, expecting him to explain further. He taps on the steering wheel, squinting eyes visible through the rear-view mirror as he tries to think.

“It’s..eh...lower income, to put it as nicely as possible.” Mr. Iadakan’s expression softens in pity, glancing at me through the mirror above his head before focusing back on the road.

“No kidding.” Ben leans into view to my right, and I nod solemnly.

Mr. Iadakan slows the vehicle down as we exit the seemingly permanent dreary and overcast neighborhood, turning a few more corners before the subject of this car ride comes into view; Volcano High. The building is perched on a small hill, with a huge staircase leading up to the..well-worn front entrance. Looked like something out of one of those animes Olivia has shown me. Vines dangled out from the bottoms of a few windows, and a chain link fence wrapped around the roof.

Ben slides out of the right-hand side as the car slows to a halt, taking the three telescoping black stands into his arms and looking around for a moment before just leaning them against the base of the staircase. Mr. Iadakan steps out next, followed by me- and we both head for the trunk. I reach down and pop it open, looking at the couple of bags filled with all the equipment we’d need for the oncoming afternoon.

“Alright, you two. Need I repeat the plan for today?” Mr. Iadakan folds his arms, leaning against the side of his car while we unpack the gear.

“No, sir.” We both say, at the same time.

“Are you suuure?” He tilts his head down, leaning in my direction- causing my brain to short circuit as I try to remember the plan I had a full grasp on not five seconds ago.

Ben swings in for the rescue, speaking up as my mouth slightly opens in confusion. “Yes, sir. Walk around, find good shots, set up our stands-” Mr. Iadakan snaps his fingers, chuckling. “Precisely. We’ll split up and take different areas of the school-” He breaks his sentence to examine his watch. “And if we’re lucky, we might be able to catch lunch and get some good photos of the classrooms.”

“You told them we’re going to be walking around taking shots, right?” Hoisting one of the small duffel bags over my shoulder, I furrow my brows- not understanding what Ben was asking until it clicked. Right, the school.

“Yes, yes. The students should know not to bother the photographers unless asked to.” My pterodactyl- was he a pterodactyl? I actually wasn’t sure. My winged teacher nudged me on the shoulder, winking at us both. Ben chuckles, before taking his own bag and heading for the stairs.

Idling still for a second, I lose myself in thought while looking over the scenery. As rude as it was to say, the school didn’t look all that impressive. It was going to be difficult to collect any significant amount of good photos if all this place has to it are long, blank hallways filled with lockers and the occasional poster or corkboard. Maybe my luck would turn up though, I think Mr. Iadakan talked about the supposedly impressive gardening club Volcano High sported, that’d be plenty appealing to..investors- or whoever might be looking over these photos.

“Inco! Burning daylight!” Mr. Iadakan snaps me out of my thinking, and I reach up to shut the trunk and hurry up the steps. My DSLR haphazardly bounces off my knees with each step ascended, so I grab ahold of it with my hand and get to the top of the hill with an intact camera, thankfully. Surprising myself, I made it second- just behind Ben who admittedly was climbing much more leisurely. Eugh, imagine if someone fell down these steps. The thought alone sends a shiver up my spine.

Hooking a thumb under the bag hanging off my shoulder, we both wait for Mr. Iadakan to ascend the stairs, huffing with effort as he plants his foot on the last step and comes up to our level. Ben once again takes the question right out of my mouth, walking over and handing me one of the tripods he carried up. “So, do we start inside? Or split up to begin with?”

“Hooh..yeah- split up outside, you two. I’m going to go inform the principal of our arrival.” Mr. Iadakan bounds off through the front doors, disappearing out of sight through a set of double doors further inside. Looking at Ben, he shrugs. “Meet back here when we’re done?”

“I suppose that makes sense.” I grab my chin again, folding my other arm under. Ow, this bag is kind of heavy.

“See you then!” Ben gives me a nod, turning around and going around the other side of the building. The path he was on looked significantly less maintained then the one I was on, that was probably maintenance or something. Turning around myself, the sidewalk before me is much cleaner, if not more walked on.

 As I rounded the corner, my expectations were defied. Definitely wasn’t expecting a sprawling and lush courtyard, dotted with patches of palm trees and bushes. Looks like the place a couple would sit down in to have a picnic in a movie, complete with the flannel-pattern blanket and woven basket. It felt weirdly empty despite how pretty it was, probably because it was empty. All the students that’d normally be occupying this place were in their third or fourth period right now.

Which means nobody could bother me while I got my photos. I set down the bag on a nearby bench, pausing to analyze the missing link in what is supposed to be a pair of benches. Two small concrete pillars stood, fragments of rotted wood clinging to them; identical to the one next to it, just without the seating element. They’re able to afford this almost luxury courtyard and maintain it but can’t replace a broken bench?

Disregarding questionable practices and potential complicated fund embezzling schemes bubbling up in my head, I unzip the duffel bag and remove a second, smaller bag full of lenses. I shouldn’t need a lot of setup out here, inside is where the rest of this should come in handy. Leaving the bag where it is, I take the stand and bag of lenses, beginning to wander around the courtyard to find the first good spot to shoot.

Each step I took was slow, deliberate. Making sure to really feel out the ground as my eyes traced over the greenery. Almost was not good enough, I wanted the first one to be perfect- and the perfect scene I did in fact find. Towards the edge of the path that looped around the courtyard was a rose bush, the centerpiece of a small inlet digging into the tall bushes that served as walls.

A small smile spreads across my face as I plant the tripod across from the display of shrubs and flowers, just in the grass off the sidewalk. Lowering myself down into a kneel, I crown the stand with my beloved DSLR, unzipping the lens bag and pausing to decide. I raise my head back up to the rose bush, studying the natural beauty. It clicked in my head, the right lens calling to me as I pluck it out of it’s foam casing and attach it to the end of my camera.

Shuffling over on my knees to get behind the mounted camera, I press my face up against the viewfinder, fine-tuning the settings until I had captured the frame to my exact liking. Gently taking ahold of the grip, I hover my thumb over the shutter button- wait, no. Flash is..off. Yes, okay. Readying up again now that I had double checked, I take in a breath; holding it for a few seconds before pressing my thumb down and snapping the photo with a satisfying click of the shutter.

Navigating through the small LCD screen, I take a look at the shot, pressing my lower lip up and nodding. Yup, that is a very fine photo if I do say so myself. Just to be safe, I take a few more photos from slightly different angles before moving on to the next piece. I lost myself in the work, 20 or so minutes flying by like nothing- the only thing drawing me out of my fixation being the somewhat familiar ‘ding-dong’ of the school’s PA system.

I stand up from the last pretty looking collection of flora, deciding that was probably enough outdoor photos for now; moving onto interior shots while the school populace is busy at lunch is probably a higher priority. Looking around the courtyard, I spot a side entrance and unmount my DSLR off it’s mount, taking off the lens and storing it in it’s respective bag before hustling back to the bench with everything in-hand.

Stuffing the duffel bag full of the gear, I zip it shut and hoist the bag over my shoulder- hanging my camera off my neck and carrying the tripod in my hands. With everything on my person, I make my way for the set of double doors at the end of the courtyard, pushing them open with my shoulder and entering the school.

My expectations are further defied once I actually see the inside of the place- I cant’ say the nearby neighborhood of ‘Skin Row’ painted a good picture for the school, but it was surprisingly clean and well-kept. Vines and greenery were everywhere above the lockers and in the high-set ceiling, reminding me of St. Hammond. The halls were full of dinosaurs, though nobody had seemed to notice me standing off to the side looking for an entryway into the crowd. 

Finding an opening, I slither my way into the crowd and walk against the flow of foot traffic, muttering apologies to every saurian that gave me a strange look or bumped into me until I finally made it into the clear. Not as rowdy as the lunch horde back at my school, but I still narrowly avoided being gored by spikes and claws the entire way through. Patting my clothes down to clear myself of any rips or tears, I let out a sigh of relief- my precious jacket was unharmed.

And, more importantly, my DSLR. Also unharmed thankfully. Looking around the now empty halls with my back to the crowd, I notice a handful of stragglers looking my way. Just then, an idea pops into my head. How does one make an otherwise boring school scene look interesting? You add interesting objects to it, like people. Maybe a few students would be willing to help me out and give their school a good image. Approaching the first duo of saurians giving me the side-eye, I put on my best winning smile.

“Hey, I’m not too sure if you guys heard- I think there was an announcement sometime today, but I’m a photographer taking pictures for your school, would you be willing to pose for some photos of mine?” Calling myself a photographer in a professional setting felt sinful, if not incredibly gratifying.

“Uh..” The first dino pauses to think, he was a uh..an..a carnivore looking brown saurian with wings on his forearms. Big ones, at that. He was shorter than his friend, a parasaur.

“No thanks, sorry.” He puts a hand up, leaving me only to nod and walk away. No big deal, I’m sure someone is willing to stand and let me take a picture of their conversation. Approaching another pair of friends discussing something at their lockers, I clear my throat and repeat my line from earlier- to much more positive reception.

“Yeah, sure. Where you want us?”

“Right here’s fine, just let me set up. You can keep talking.” The dilophosaurus that kind of reminds me of Damien flashes a thumbs-up, going back to conversing with his friend. I quickly extend the tripod’s legs again, mounting my camera on top and setting down the duffel bag to remove that bag of lenses. I don’t have much time- the last thing I want to do is bother these strangers with my work. I decide on a wide-angle lens, mounting it on the end of my DSLR and taking that same kneel behind the stand.

Flash is off, we’re good to go. Just wait for the right time and pounce on the moment, like a predator on that nature documentary I woke up to playing on the TV in the middle of the night awhile back. The dilophosaurus rears his head back for a laugh, and my eyes widen; thumb pressing down on the shutter button and taking a handful of pictures in rapid succession. Navigating the screen again, I look through the six or so I ended up with; and at least half of them looked good.

Standing up, I clear my throat and start to pack up my stuff. “Thanks, guys.”

“Ahuh.” 

“No problem.”

The lens I had on my camera right now should suffice for the rest of these interior photos, and I can’t waste time setting up the mount and unzipping the bags; so I decide on removing my DSLR from the stand and just leaving the wide-angle on, walking around and snapping a few more photos by dropping into a kneel and shooting with the camera in my hands. These turned out basically the same as the rest of the pictures I took with the stand, which meant less time spent on set-up and more time spent doing my job.

Of course, I wasn’t expecting every interaction to be positive. I turned around about halfway down the hallway to follow the last remnants of the lunch crowd and ask for people to pose, to negative reception. I got flipped off once before I could even get close to ask the girl the question. Oh well, some people are just gonna be like that. I wish them well. The dinosaur crowd had all gathered in the spacious cafeteria, leaving the hallways empty and ripe for the picking.

Admittedly, the series of photographs I snapped for the next 30 minutes were dull. Inanimate object after inanimate object, and almost a full loop around the first floor of the building done. I didn’t see Ben in my walk around the school, which either meant we were following eachother in a cartoon-esque chase sequence or he was on another floor, which was smart. It was kind of unnerving walking around an empty school, even if I knew people were all around me just out of sight.

The bell signaling the end of lunch period went off as I crouched down to take a picture of a potted plant nestled in a corner- thankfully I took advantage of the empty classrooms and got a couple more unique photos of different lines of desks and chalkboards. Still boring, but a change of scenery is always nice. Now was my chance to get some more really good shots, though. Surely someone will give me the time of day again.

My spirit was partially crushed after the first few people I asked all denied me with various degrees of negativity. A simple shake of the head, ducking or moving out of the way when I got close- and the occasional insult based on my appearance or choice of fashion. It didn’t dishearten me so much as it confused me, who gets more irritable after they’ve ate? A couple people do a double-take at me as they walk past, looking from me to something across the hallway back in the direction of the cafeteria.

Distracted by yet another attempt at getting someone to pose failing, my presence causes an empty space to form in the half of the school populace that went in my direction; like the eye of a hurricane. Finishing up another failed attempt at getting someone to assist me with my work, I don’t notice a voice calling out until it’s directly behind me.

“Skinnie!”

My brow furrows, and I turn around to see what the commotion is directly behind me. I wasn’t expecting to be the person being addressed, though- a short, violet colored triceratops girl walking up to me through the crowd.

“What, you run off with Fang to go play dress-up? The fuck are you wearing? Where’s Fang?” She barrages me with questions- her tone rising as a scowl crosses her face. I put my hands up defensively, opening my mouth to try and speak; but she cuts me off.

“Wh-”

“What- why the hell do you have sunglasses on indoors? Who..what- your broke ass stole someones camera? Need to sell it for spear-crafting money?” The angry little woman stifles back a laugh, shaking her head. “Whatever, I don’t care. Where’s Fang at?” She stares up at me expectantly, pulling her arms out of her yellow hoodie pockets and folding them across her chest.

Finally getting a chance to interject, I gather myself and blurt out the first thing that came to mind. “Who’s Fang?”

The words struck her like a slap to the face, her eyes going wide for the briefest of moments as she recoils back in confusion. She regains that predatory look in her eyes, leaning up close to me. “Don’t act like a dumbass for once in your shitty life, skinnie.”

“I think you’re misunderstood, my names not skinnie-” Trying to reason with the stranger only seems to tick her off further.

“What did I just say? Knock it off, you knuckle-dragging tard.” Who even is this girl? Why is she so damn angry at me!?

“Enough! Won’t you listen to me, lady?!” I raise my voice at her, jabbing a finger in her face and stunning her long enough for me to continue. “I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m not the person you’re looking for.” I cross my arms, huffing. “Alright?”

That finally seems to get through her head, her expression softening ever so slightly- she still looked pissed, though. “Just my fucking luck, two of you monkeys in this school.” She stands back up straight, unfolding her arms and sticking her hands back in her pockets. Opening her mouth to speak, she stops; looking me over from head to toe. Her gaze lingers on my jacket.

“Yooouuuu..what are you doing here?” The sudden shift from anger to inquiry threw me for yet another loop. Maybe it wasn’t super obvious, but surely she heard the announcement that came over the PA. Or, at least I was told about an announcement that came over the PA. Maybe they didn’t do it?

“I’m uh-” I cough and ball my fist up, hovering it over my mouth to clear my throat. “I’m here to take pictures for the school, my teacher got hired for it and he brought me and a friend along.” Well, at least the situation seems to have calmed down. She doesn’t look angry at me anymore.

She stops again, gears visibly turning in her brain as she formulates a response. “So that’s what that was for earlier..” Looking off to the side, she lets out a sigh and deflates a little. “Okay, whatever. Tell me, skinnie- you see a clone of you and a pterodactyl walk past?” She looks back to me, flicking her eyes from my shirt to my face.

“I can’t say that I have. Why do you keep calling me that?” I rack my brain for a moment, trying to recall if I saw my probably evil twin and a pterodactyl somewhere in the crowd. Nope, nothing.

“Calling you what?”

“Skinnie. What does that mean?” She gets another confused look across her face as I ask the question, her mouth hanging open for an awkwardly long time as she stumbles her way through an answer.

“Well- it..uh, it means..uh...” I lean my head forward slightly as she stutters her way through the following sentence.

“It’s..er..it means...human. Slang term.” The purple triceratops answers quickly, shrugging her shoulders back and averting her gaze away from me. Huh. “I can’t say I’ve ever been called that before.” I look off to the side as well, sifting through the various small talks I’ve had with random people over the years. Nope, never heard it once.

“Well, why not call me by my actual name?” Effortlessly recovering the awkward situation, I put on a smile and hold my hand out to her for a handshake. “Inco.” 

I could’ve sworn one of the emotions she cycled through once I offered to shake her hand was disgust, but surely enough she did slowly reach out and shake my hand. I lower the intensity of my smile into a small grin, keeping the handshake firm and short. “My name’s Trish.” She hesitates in answering.

“Nice to meet you!” I release her hand and drop them both at my sides.

“You..too.” Another awkward pause between her words, like she’s forcing them out. I don’t blame her though, she was just yelling at me a second ago, if I wasn’t so smart and cool I probably would’ve fumbled too. Trish, hmm. Probably short for something- it’s a nice name, though.

“Hey, do you think you could help me out with something?” Wait, doesn’t she have another period to get to? I look over my shoulder and past her, realizing the hallway is empty. “Oh, shoot. Nevermind, you should probably get to class.” Oh well, not a big deal. Trish looks up at me, a delayed reaction. “Oh- right. Yeah, yeah. Later.” Trish rushes past me, brushing up against my arm.

Turning around to get one last look at her, she’s already gone around the corner, the errant squeak of a shoe against tile telling me she was sprinting. Fair enough, sometimes you really got to get to class. I should probably take advantage of the fact that the cafeteria is empty, that conversation took up some precious time. Striding back down the hallway, I shoulder the double doors open, leading into the spacious room.

Click, click, click.

Move to another part of the room.

Click, click, click.

Rinse and repeat for the entirety of Volcano High’s next period. The janitor cleaning up all the tables paid me no mind, and- heck, he even obliged when I asked him to pose for a portrait photo. It came out incredible, and the wrinkled and stocky dark green gentleman gave me his contact information so I could send it to him once I was done here. Otherwise, it was repetitive work. Fun, of course, just monotonous. I..think those two terms clash. Whatever.

I decided to head upstairs and try to find Ben while grabbing more pictures, pausing every couple stretches to crouch down and snap a photo of something interesting I saw. A collection of posters for the school’s mascot, a case of trophies, a flowering vine that hung from the top of a group of lockers- the school was photogenic, honestly. Most of these came out great.

Getting an idea once I hit the end of a hall, I turned around and kneeled again, holding my camera up to my face and adjusting the settings to capture the entire length of the hallway. Just moments before my thumb made contact with the shutter button, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I snap the photo and hang my DSLR off my neck, standing up and pulling my phone out of my pocket with one motion.

A text from Olivia, nice! Or, two texts, actually.

O: “Soldier”

O: “Status report”

The request for an update on my current situation was complemented by a cute drawing of Guts in an American GI getup.

I: “All is well on the homefront, ma’am.”

O: “You’re not home tho”

I: “You started the bit, play along.”

O: “Whatever”

O: “Hows the other school?”

O: “Is it dirty?”

O: “I bet it’s dirty”

I: “Actually, I was surprised. It’s very clean.”

I: “Kind of in a...”

My thumbs pause their dance across the bottom half of my phone, the nice words to describe Volcano High failing to come to me.

I: “Low-income area.”

O: “Lmao”

O: “Public school too poor for richie rich?”

I: “It’s not like that! It’s just in a bad neighborhood.”

O: “Sure pal”

I: “Har har. I should get back to it, Ben’s way ahead of me.”

O: “Ugh”

O: “Yeah”

O: “Get back to work”

She ended the conversation by sending a video- a still image of a whip with very loud whip crack sound effects playing over it. I can’t help but chuckle, turning off my phone and pocketing it. Okay, back to it. I continue my loop around the second floor of the school, repeating the sisyphean task of taking photographs of inanimate objects.

The now familiar ringing of the digital bell over the PA system sounded out through the halls, right as I was stuck inbetween two full classes. I scurry out of the way of the doors as they swing open and unleash the crowd of students clamoring to get to their next period, the multi-colored dinosaur horde reminding me of St. Hammond. As interesting as this place was, I can’t see myself attending here.

Forced to stand by as the student body flows through the hallway like molasses dripping off a spoon, I take a seat on a small chair squeezed between two sets of lockers, bringing my DSLR up and flicking through some of the photos I’ve taken. I wonder what Ben and Mr. Iadakan are up to- I assume teach is just going up through the halls and taking photos just like us.

A presence and accompanying ‘fwompf’ sound of someone sitting on vinyl from the seating space next to me distracts me from looking over my work, turning my head to meet..Trish’s eyes. Her pretty purple eyes. “So, skiiinnnnnco- where’d you get this jacket of yours?” I give her a  squint, hidden beneath my sunglasses. “Abercrombie and Flint.” I answer, perking up immediately once she shows interest in my choice of clothing.

“Called it.” She winces, leaning her head against the wall and sucking air through her teeth. “I’ve always liked the look of their clothes.”

“Oh.” I lower my camera back towards my lap, releasing it gently. “Why not?” The stupidity of the question doesn’t hit me until multiple seconds after I said it, the urge to reach up and smack my forehead is difficult to resist. Before I could apologize, she just laughs it off. 

“You’re funny.” She grins at me- or, smirks? Smiles. Something like that, a gentle curve to her lip towards the corner of her mouth. Her hands rustle around in her hoodie’s pockets.

“I try to be! What about you? Your hoodie?” I couldn’t recognize the brand from a glance, a simple red ‘OX’ symbol plastered on the front of the bold yellow statement. It contrasted her scales nicely, and the red accents matched her boots pretty well. She’s got fashion sense.

“Thrifted, found it at the bottom of the bin. Actually haven’t checked what brand it is.” That..took me back, I blink multiple times to confirm what I just heard. Trish frowns upon seeing my reaction, and I scramble to do damage control. “That’s alright! What matters is it looks good on you.” Mostly important, anyway.

“Thanks, you too.” First impressions aside, she’s actually really nice. “So, what’d you say you’re here for again?  Work, right?” She brings a leg up onto the seat, pulling her hands out of her pockets and resting them over top of her knee.

“Oh, no. Well- kind of.” I scratch the back of my neck, composing my thoughts. “I got sick for a couple days, and my teacher brought me and another student along with him to help him take pictures for your school. So, technically work- but more of a school assignment.” I fiddle with the telescoping stand, pulling it out of the way of the flow of foot traffic.

Trish glances off into the crowd before she speaks, as if considering each and every word. “You take photography classes?”

“I do! It’s art class, actually- but photography is an art..so, y’know.” I shrug half-heartedly.

“I getcha.” She enters another pause, so I take the chance to ask my new friend a question instead.

“Whatever happened to that friend of yours? Another human- and a pterodactyl, right?” I lean back against the wall as well, folding one arm under the other and resting my chin atop the dominant hand.

“Wouldn’t say friends- at least, one of them is my friend. Other guy..not so much.” She clicks her tongue, brows briefly tightening inward. “He’s an acquaintance.”

“Oh. Mutual friend, then?”

“Yeah, if you’d consider a parasite a mutual friend.” Trish venomously spits out the word ‘parasite’, one of her hands condensing into a fist.

“Ooh. That’s rough, how about the other one?” I wonder what this other human guy is like. I can’t say I’ve even seen a human in Volcaldera Bluffs, and suddenly theres one attending the next school over? What are the odds of that?

“They’re my best friend, we’re in a band together.” She perks up considerably once this human guy is no longer the topic, that same small smirk playing on her lips.

“You’re in a band? That’s awesome!” I didn’t even consider what kinds of electives Volcano High offered, maybe their music class isn’t too shabby? I haven’t heard enough about it to make a case, but I’d be sure to look into it at least on a surface level once I left here.

“Yup. VVurm Drama; Me and Fang play b- I play bass, Fang plays guitar and vocals, and my other friend Reed is on the drums.” She’s very expressive, eyebrows shooting up as she corrects herself on the mistake.

“Wow. What type of music do you guys play?”

“Rock, mostly only our own music too.” Her smirk grows into a proper smile, as anyone should. A proper band is something to be proud of! As I begin to answer, Trish checks her phone and notices the time.

“That’s cool! Wh-”

“Ah, shit. Sorry- I gotta go. Class.” She stands from the chair and speedwalks down the hall, quickly out of sight. “Oh. See you later!” I wave to her as she leaves, standing up and checking the time myself. It is nearing the end of the school day, I should finish up with the last floor and get back to the front entrance before it gets crowded.

Wandering around the second floor for a bit longer, I find the stairs to the third floor and make my way up, being careful with my dangling camera. The sights are more of the same, long hallways accented by blue lockers and dangling flora. The novelty had sort of worn off, I was perfectly fine with ending the work here. Incidentally, my timeline lined up with the last school period perfectly- and by the time I was nearing completion the end of day announcement came over the PA.

Crap, I gotta hustle if I’m gonna beat the crowd. Jogging for the same stairwell I used to get up here with careful attention paid to my beloved DSLR, I descend down to the first floor as hastily as I can manage without risk to any of my equipment. Extending a hand and pushing open the door to the stairwell and clearing both directions of the hallway for any incoming students; I double-take my right as the classroom doors open and unleash the student body.

Rounding the corner, I nearly trip over my own feet in my attempt to stop my charge for the entrance- a white-scaled hand shooting out in front of me. Recovering from my stumble, I lift my head up to meet the cyan eyes of the strange dino. A blonde-haired parasaur with an ear-to-ear grin and a bored looking brown pterodactyl. “Hi! Sorry if I scared you, We were really in a rush to find you!”

She sounds positively ecstatic. “I’m Naomi, the student council president! This is my boyfriend- also apart of the student council- Naser!” Theres an awkward silence as Naser looks between his beaming girlfriend and me, confused. After a gentle nudge to the shoulder he gets the hint and perks up. “Oh- right, yes. Hello.” I resist the urge to physically recoil after I finally notice the God-awful jacket Naser is trying his best to rock. Eugh, it’s revolting! The green leaf pattern on top of his black shirt paired with his already dark scales- it’s like a cheesy side character from a Miami Vice-esque cop flick escaped the studio.

Naomi quickly picks up the conversation again. “After I made the announcement this morning, Naser had the bright idea of getting his picture taken with one of the photographers!” Naser averts his gaze and opens his mouth for a second, clicking it shut after thinking for a moment. “It wouldn’t be too much of your time to take his portrait photo, would it?” She clasps her hands together in her lap, rocking back and forth on her heels.

“Not at all! Where would you want to have the shoot?” It wasn’t that much of a problem. I loved taking portraits, they almost always came out great. Naomi looks around for a moment before pointing to a set of potted plants near the door; the crowd we’re conversing in bending out of the way as she walks us towards the spot.

“Now, get up there and be your handsome self!” Naomi grabs the ptero’s arm, nuzzling into his shoulder.

“Na-” He’s cut off by his arm being roughly squeezed, the fabric of his tacky hawaiian print blazer tightening inward towards Naomi’s death grip. “..Yes, dear.” They definitely have a dynamic.

Naser walks up in between the two plants, dusting off his shoulders and arms and tugging on the bottom of his violently clashing outfit to straighten it out. He grabs his collar, flourishing his wings and turning his head to the side; striking an elegant and refined pose for me. Crouching in front of him, I make some quick settings adjustments aaand..

Click, click, click, click.

Tilting the camera downward, I eagerly swipe to the recently taken series of photos. Oh, wow. This might be the best portrait yet- it’s fantastic! Naomi crouches down next to me, peering over my shoulder at the tiny screen. She squeals in delight, standing up and rushing to tackle-hug the poor pterodactyl. “They came out AMAZINGLY! I’m so proud of you, Nasey-poo!” He sheepishly hugs her back after recovering from the forceful hug.

A brief, yet fleeting moment of clarity is shared between the two of us as Naser and I exchange glances. One of desperation, and one of pity. I have not been in his situation, nor will I likely ever- yet it was by far the most understanding I have ever felt for another. I almost mouth the words ‘I’m sorry.’, biting my tongue as Naomi spins around fast enough to nearly dislodge her glasses. 

“Thank you so much, sir! I imagine your employer- or, teacher? Whoever your superior is, I assume he’ll be reaching out to the school with the photos?” Naomi’s smile was infectious, causing me to uncontrollably smirk in kind. I look to the ceiling, unsure what Mr. Iadakan was going to do with our photos. “I believe so.”

“Excellent! Well, thank you for your time. We have some business to attend to inside the school. Bye!” Naomi takes Naser by the arm and walks off in the direction they came, her tail furiously wagging. She’s nice.

Squeezing through the back half of the saurian horde, I stand off to the side as the singular mass spreads out across the front of the school. A couple groups stand on the flanks, sharing small talk while idling on the hill leading up to the school. Interesting place to stand instead of just going home, but, not my place to judge.

Eventually, I see Ben poke his head out of the doors and slide over next to me, huffing and puffing with a shocking amount of sweat laden across his clothes. “Hooh..hah...” He holds up a finger, keeling over and catching his breath. Raising his head with a deep inhale of air, Ben chuckles. “Even though I ran, I still got stuck in there. Where’s Mr. Iadakan?”

Right on queue, Mr. Iadakan whistles at us from the direction of the courtyard I entered the school from, waving his hand in an exaggerating manner. “Yoo-hoo!” He calls out, striding towards the pillar Ben and I huddled around. “How’d your work go, boys?”

“It went great!” I manage to answer before Ben this time, and he nods in agreement before adding on. “Yup, all good.” The talk about photography reminds me to check something, so I pull my camera up and turn the LCD on- confirming that I am in fact almost out of storage space. Pretty good effort, if I do say so myself.

“Excellent! I’m sorry I couldn’t assist you two further, the principal had many lovely stories to share about the history of the school.” Mr. Iadakan shrugs his duffel bag onto his other shoulder, letting out a sigh. “Well, what say you two that we get to the car and-”

“Inco.”

We all collectively whip our heads around and stare at the intrusion- Trish. She walks up to me, clenching something in her exposed hand; the other being tucked away in her pocket. “Whats up?” I ask, turning my body around to face her fully.

Getting real close, she takes my hand and presses something into my palm, closing my hand around whatever the object was. “Hit me up sometime, could hang out at the mall or something.” My eyes go wide, confusion taking priority in my head as she disappears into the crowd descending down the stairs, her small frame vanishing before I could stop her.

Looking down at my hand, I open it to reveal a torn off corner of a piece of paper- a phone number scribbled in with red ink. My mouth drops open, face heating up as Mr. Iadakan’s snoot pokes into frame; my teacher peering over my shoulder. Looking up, I glance at Ben, who’s sharing the exact same expression of shock.

Mr. Iadakan whistles again. “Inco, look at you making friends wherever you go.” He pats me on the shoulder before taking the reigns of the situation. “Okay, let’s get outta here. I’m starving.” Mr. Iadakan leaves the both of us, electing to avoid the crowd on the stairs and walk down the hill alongside them. Auto pilot forces me to simply fold the piece of paper up and stuff it into my jacket pocket, swallowing a sudden lump that appeared in my throat.

Ben and I follow our teacher’s example, carefully shuffling down the grassy hill. A girl I just met at a school I’ll probably never visit again gave me her number and asked to meet up at some time in the future. My parasaur partner seems to notice the puzzled look on my face and abruptly pinches my arm. “Nope, you’re not dreaming.”

“Ow.” I rub the spot he squeezed, elbowing him in kind.

“Neat place, isn’t it?” Ben pops his knuckles as we near the bottom of the stairs, having stored his camera away in his bag; which is a good idea. Too late now, though. Just have to be mindful.

“It’s pretty nice, yeah.” As my foot connects with the sidewalk at last, I look towards the direction of Mr. Iadakan’s car, only to be met with a parting crowd and..another human, mere feet away from me. Time seems to slow as we both make eye contact with each other, judging one another at the same exact time. Mystery brand green jacket with a popped collar, as bald as I am. Off-colored green shirt that clashed with his already green overcoat, blue jeans, and a sort of hunched posture to top it off.

As quick as I saw the elusive fellow human, he disappears; obscured by the crowd. If he’s a mutual friend with Trish, maybe I could get to talk to him one day. Though, she didn’t seem too pleased with his person with the way she described him. Trish being on the mind, my hand shoots into my pocket, grasping the piece of paper and making sure it was still there.

Ben and I load all the gear back into Mr. Iadakan’s trunk as he looks over the photos we took on his laptop in the car, spending a good 5 minutes skimming the photos once we’re settled in the backseat and occasionally nodding in approval. “Good work getting people to pose for your photos, Inco! I’m sure the school will appreciate the extra effort.”

I smile as Mr. Iadakan gets the car started and drives away from the school, and I can’t help but longingly watch it fade out of sight through the back window. Once again, my hand digs into my pocket and pulls out the slip of paper. I stare at it for way too long, folding it back up again and returning it to my pocket. My attempt to lose myself in thinking is interrupted by Ben’s phone ringing- Mia was calling him, based on the deceptively sweet voice I heard over the phone.

I was surprised with how eager Trish was to reach out to me, normally most friendly conversations like that end as quickly as they started. The purple triceratops occupied my mind all the way home, I couldn’t get her out of head up until ‘Liv texted me again. Already doomscrolling on my phone, I swipe to her contact and read her message.

O: “So”

O: “How’d it go?”

I: “It went great! I’d be happy to show you the photos tomorrow, I think a lot of them came out perfectly.”

O: “Sweet”

O: “Would love to see them”

I: “I even made a new friend! She’s in a band.”

Olivia’s reply wasn’t instant, she hesitated for a time before typing.

O: “Huh”

O: “What’s she like?”

I: “Kind of got off on the wrong foot, but she turned out to be really nice. Said she’d like to hang out at a mall sometime.”

Another pause before she replies, which was..unusual. Normally when texting ‘Liv, her replies were usually instant- maybe she’s just busy.

O: “Thats cool”

O: “Vinny wants to play rock ring”

O: “Gotta go”

Olivia ends the conversation with a drawing of Guts in some kind of caveman outfit, bashing another rat across the face with a club. Cartoonish hurt marks and symbols surrounded the impact point on the rodent being attacked. I send her one of those cute little animated thumbs-up emojis in response, before turning my phone off and setting it face-down on the couch.

That was it, Damien and Vinny were messing with her. Hope she has fun. I unpause the video essay I was using as background noise- settling into the couch and pulling a blanket off the cushions behind my head. Wrapping up in the blanket, the distraction from Olivia fades away- leaving Trish as the sole subject on my mind right now. Ah, screw it. I grab my phone again and lay down on the couch; turning it on and flicking to my phone app.

Digging the piece of paper out of my pocket, I hold it beside the screen as I input each number, almost accidentally pressing the call button and nearly dropping my phone in a panic to stop myself. I prop my head up on a pillow and hold the phone on my chest instead of above me, saving the contact simply as ‘Trish’.

Relief washes over me as I hit the save button. I’m not sure why, but that felt like I just had to do it. Hitting the text message button, I tap my chin for a second while trying to think of something to message her with. Doesn’t have to be too long, but I don’t wanna be creepy either. Bringing my hand back onto my phone, I keep it as simple and as friendly as I can manage.

I: “Hey! It’s Inco, that photographer you met earlier today!”

Chapter Text

I feel a little guilty, honestly. The kind of giddy tongue-in-cheek guilty I imagine a girl feels in a cheesy highschool movie where the two main characters gossip about a boy over a telephone. I stayed up just a teensy bit later than I should have, texting that triceratops girl I had met yesterday. Meaningless talk about things like fashion, what her friend group is like, what my friend group is like- I did most of the talking, though. She was probably tired, from what little she replied with it sounded like her schedule that day was packed. Or she was busy when I messaged her, I don’t know.

But, Trish did respond to my messages, answering my incessant questions with fifteen to twenty minute delays. The responses were short, too; further adding onto my half-hearted shame. She never expressed any dissent with my prodding about her personal life, even if the answers given were vague. I should dial it back next time, the last thing I’d want to do is make her uncomfortable.

I texted with Olivia a little as well, she told me about a new album she was listening to that night. Sounded like a garage boy-band from the snippit she sent me, the song itself being about a sweater or something. I was honest about my indifference, and she called me a normie- and then sent me a picture of Guts’ beady little eyes peering out from the darkness of her room.

We both went to bed after that, since she didn’t reply to my goodnight message until the next morning. Trish never replied to my goodnight message, which was fine. My train of thought is broken by the metro car jostling, its weight shifting. The seat I’ve staked my claim on squeaks out in agony as a familiar shadow eclipses my spot in the sunlight; that would be Mr. Ferris.

“Good morning, Inco.” I swear the train car rumbles every time the whale speaks.

“Mr. Ferris.” Grinning, I trade a friendly nod with the large gentleman. I always looked forward to my morning talks with Mr. Ferris, they were a highlight of my day.

“I overheard discussion about a photo shoot at Volcano High. How did it go?”

“It went great! I saved some of the photos to my phone, would you like to see?” Before he can answer, I lower my hand down to my jacket pocket.

“Of course.” Mr. Ferris gives a small smile and holds his hand out for my phone. I pull it out and swipe to my gallery, gently placing my fragile device in his hand. I was slightly nervous- he seemed dexterous enough with his hands but I wasn’t confident in his abilities to handle anything smaller than one of those brick telephones from the 70s.

He brings my phone up to his face, nearly pressing it against his snout as he gets the closest look possible at the saved images. I only save my favorites to my phone, so there wasn’t a lot to look through. “Swipe to the left.” Mr. Ferris brings a gigantic pointer finger up and slowly drags it across the screen. Is this how he operates his phone? Does he even own a smartphone?

Mr. Ferris finishes looking through the six or so saved images; stopping once he reached the end of the album I had created for them. He hands my phone back, nodding approvingly. “Your work is excellent, Inco. Though-” He puts a hand on his chin. “I can’t say I’m fond of smartphones.”

I was right after all; but maybe he owns one anyway. “In this day and age?” I cock an eyebrow, twisting my body and resting my elbow on my knee to get a proper look at most of Mr. Ferris.

“I find that older technology is just as useful.” Reaching into his back pocket, he pulls out a- in comparison with his hand- teeny tiny brick from the early 2000s, turning it to face me. Before I can ask what it even is, he pushes his thumb up on the screen and slides out an analog keyboard from the bottom. Wow.

“Impressive, no?” Mr. Ferris grins, revealing his baleen ‘teeth’. 

I fight the urge to shiver, instead forcing out a robotic nod. “It’s definitely a staple of it’s time.”

“Believe me, I am perfectly capable of functioning in modern society with this cellphone. I can even text.” He makes a show of turning his body towards me, only to press the phone as close to his face as possible and slowly tap in each letter with his thumb. After fifteen seconds, he manages to type out the word ‘hwllo’.

“Ah. Hmm.” He averts his gaze from his phone, letting out a displeased hum. “Ignore that.” We both chuckle, and put our phones away, settling into a brief silence. Mr. Ferris speaks up again, adjusting his position in his seat. “Tell me more about your experience at the other school.”

“Well, it was pretty nice. Clean, decorated- not as lavishly as Saint Hammond but it was one of the better ones I’ve been to. The student body was..uh..” I accidentally segway’d myself into remembering all the rude gestures and species-based insults I received. At least, I think they were about me being a human; it all sounded like nonsense to me. Who even carries a spear on their person today?

“They were amicable. Mostly.” Crossing my arms, I sit back in my chair- wanting to sink into it to avoid the embarrassment of tarnishing another school’s name.

“I see.” Mr. Ferris pauses, looking off to the side again.

“But, aside from that, most of them were nice. I even made a new friend.” The leviathan perks up at the sound of that, raising his head up slightly and focusing one eye on me.

“A new friend?”

“Yeah! She met up with me after her classes and talked; even found me when the school day ended and gave me her number. I’m going to the mall with her later today after school ends.”

Mr. Ferris nods, scratching his mustache. “Good for you, Inco. What do you plan on doing?”

My face defaults to a blank state, I actually didn’t know what to say. We never really planned what we were going to do at the mall, more just talked about being there. “I don’t know, actually.”

“Well, that’s alright.” Expression turning puzzled, I try to dissect why not having a plan would be okay on my own, before Mr. Ferris notices my intense stare at the floor and answers for me.

“If this girl truly is your friend, and one worth keeping in your circle at that- you shouldn’t ever need a plan to enjoy each other’s company. Now, that doesn’t mean you should shy away from ever formulating ideas or reasons to..hang out; obviously. But, keep that in mind. A friendship should never feel forced.”

..Huh.

“When you put it like that, Mr. Ferris, I guess you’re right.” I settle back into my seat, feeling content with that answer. “I’m glad I could help, Inco.” With that, our conversation dwindles into small-talk- and then a comfortable silence once that dies out as well.

We exchange goodbyes as my stop comes up, and I hustle down the steps leading from the train station. Running just a few minutes late thanks to my late-night gossiping, I jog to school; barely managing to beat the tardy bell. I didn’t notice anyone I recognized at the front doors or in the tail-end of the crowd, leaving me to wade through to the gym on my lonesome.

PE was uneventful, other than the usual experience of my legs and lungs nearly giving out on me. I was getting better, but nowhere near as athletic as Coach Solly was aiming for. Literally aiming for, in this case- he ‘kept me on my toes’ by nearly taking my shiny head off with a dodgeball from across the field. Damien pushed me out of the way in the nick of time, saving me from another concussion.

A quick stint in the showers and an equally uneventful art class leads me walking in on an a conversation at my usual lunch table with Damien, Liz, and Olivia. I sit down with my store brand lightly salted potato chips purchased out of my favorite vending machine, listening intently to the anecdote Damien was expressively miming out and describing.

“He had to have been at least 15 feet long-” Damien suddenly freezes all motion except for his head, snapping it over in my direction once I settled in my seat. “Hey, Inco.” Without skipping a beat, he returns to telling his story. “He had to have been at least 15 feet long, and totally gnarly looking!” I just shake my head at the goofiness, later learning from the half of the story I heard that Damien was explaining his encounter with a shark while surfing.

“Okay, sorry. You want me to start over, pal? I’ll start over-” 

“I am begging you, pleeeeeease do NOT.” Olivia throws her head back, ending her sentence with a groan.

“I’m not opposed, but Olivia would hit me if I didn’t agree with her.” Grinning, I comically shrug my shoulders and nod my head off to the side.

“Nah. I’d nibble ya.” She clicks her chompers twice to solidify her threat.

“INKY!” Damien suddenly slams the lunch table with both hands, causing everything on it to jostle around and scaring the living daylights out of me and Olivia.

“GhAH-” ‘Liv throws her arms up in defense, tail tightening around one of her wheelchair grips.

“Geez! What was that for?” My breath quickens, my hand shooting up to still my brick-in-a-running-washing-machine sounding heart.

“Inco, my main man, my hombre- my bestest buddy. Tell me about the other school, dude!” He leans over the table, planting his elbows down in front of his mystery meat tray and extending his frills. I put a hand on my chin, taking a second to find the words. This only adds to Damien’s excitement, he’s almost crawling over the table by now.

“Well, it was nice. In kind of a bad neighborhood, though. The people were..” The word ‘racist’ catches in my throat, but I cough and recover. “Mostly nice to me. I can’t speak much for Ben, we haven’t had a chance to talk about it yet. I even made a new friend!” Damien lights up like a christmas tree.

“Yooo! You weren’t kidding, they really are nice! Someone talked to the weirdo photographer running around their school taking pictures of all their stuff!” We both chuckle at the jab. “Tell me about them, bro.” Damien has pulled back off the table, returning to sitting normally. 

“Well, it kind of..started out rough.” Nicest way to put it considering she called me names.

“She kept calling me by another guy’s name, I think she mistook me for a friend of hers- another human. Got kind of mad at me, but she calmed down once she realized I wasn’t the guy she was looking for. She was super friendly after that, told me about her band- she’s into fashion, too!” At least, I think Trish was interested in fashion. We talked about it, which was more than I get from a lot of people.

“Heck yeah, man!” Damien puts a fist out over the table, and I lean up to bump it. 

“We’re gonna meet up at the mall after class today.” And do what, I wasn’t entirely sure. But, hey. It’s important to have a big friend circle, even better if it’s outside of school. No complaining from me if we just sit around and chat.

“What is she?”

“..Huh?” Taken aback by the completely out of nowhere question, I blink a couple times. “Come again?”

“Like, what is she, dude? A raptor? Herbivore?” Damien looks surprised that I was surprised. How?

“Oh. OH! Uh, she’s a triceratops.” Considering describing her appearance further, I decide against it- I don’t wanna sound weird and stalker-y. 

“Nice. Nice.” The dudebro dilo leans back in his seat, folding his arms and nodding slowly. A third, quieter “nice..” escapes his mouth before he sits back up. “Glad to hear, man!” Damien starts devouring his tray of what I’m guessing is leftovers based on the quantity of pure slop. Before I can crack open my chip bag, a shifting green shape in my peripheral vision distracts me.

Looking over, Olivia is as sour as ever- flicking her silvery gaze between me and Damien with a fire in her eyes. “Are you serious?” The table falls silent, even Liz’s neck shifting as it looks like she stopped eating off the roof. Awkward glances are passed around like a game of hot potato, and I take the plunge to break the silence. “Serious about..?”

“You gotta be- ugh. Come on, really?” She firmly crosses her arms, leaving us both even more dumbfounded. 

“What’s the matter?” She’s kind of worrying me. Damien slowly rises from his lunch tray, swallowing his mouthful of pinkish goop with a loud gulp, eyes darting between me and the disgruntled gator.

Her snout opens, the only noises coming out being vowels. After a few seconds, she lets out a sound like a mix between a hiss and a grumble, snatching her canteen off of her chair. She downs the contents of the sticker-laden container, discarding it into her lap and pulling away from the lunch table. 

“Olivia? What’s wrong?” I stand up as she wheels away from us, worry darkening my face.

I don’t catch what she mutters under her breath- at least, not all of it. “...ing trigger.” Tempted to run after her, the willpower fizzles out as she pushes through a set of double doors and out of the cafeteria. I slowly turn to look back at the table, meeting an equally confused Damien and Liz staring back at me. Struggling to decide between what to do, I simply sit down and stare at my bag of chips.

Damien’s frills roll in waves, framing the displeasure plastered across his face nicely. Heck, he was too weirded out to quip or try and salvage the awkward situation. The duty falls onto me, the clearing of my throat catching the attention of the table’s last two occupants. 

“I..uhm- Liz. Do you think you could give me a ride to the mall?” I lift my head from my unopened chips, meeting her with a pleading look.

“Uhh, sure. When?” She seemed disinterested rather than distressed, which wasn’t unusual. 

“Whenever we get out today.” I stop fiddling with my hands, lifting one out from under the table to sheepishly rub the back of my neck. I was completely lost on whatever it is I said that made ‘Liv act that way.

The rest of the school day was so, so awkward. It had felt like I had been sent back in time, Olivia ignoring me throughout the classes we shared. Maybe not completely ignoring me, every once in awhile when I glanced in her direction I could’ve sworn I caught the grey of her irises dart away. I desperately wanted to apologize for whatever I said that made her so distant, but she was gone before I could find the chance to speak to her.

I didn’t even see her when leaving school, not that I had much time to look. Liz had already started up her car, waiting for me in the parking lot. She didn’t say anything when I got in, merely glancing at me in the passenger seat before pulling out of the lot. The situation probably wasn’t as awkward as I was making it out to be, this isn’t the first time ‘Liv has been like this. I’m sure they both were used to it.

Just strange seeing this side of her again after we’ve spent all this time together. I deflate into the seat, setting up my elbow on the side of the door and leaning my head against the window. Liz catches wind of my pity-party and sighs, tapping her hands across the wheel. Sitting up, she tries to formulate the words; but I beat her to it.

“Look, it’s okay. She’ll get over it by tomorrow, probably.” I sulk, staring down at the floor mat and shifting my feet around. “I’m not mad at her.”

To my surprise, that only seems to irk Liz further, and she lets out a disgruntled sigh. “Inco, that’s the problem. Olivia ran away like a toddler over you hanging out with another friend.” She shakes her head, clicking her tongue. “Do you not see the problem?”

“It’s..alright, seriously. I’m fine.” That was a lie, and I think Liz knew it. “It’s just a big deal over nothing.”

“Exactly! Brooding over- what, her being jealous you’ve got other friends? What for?” Liz’s tone rises slightly, and I sink further back into my seat. She looks over at me, mouth open to continue- but stops once she notices the uncomfortable expression on my face. We both go silent again, save for the rumble of the engine and the quiet tap-tap-tap sounds of rain on the front windshield. It started raining, too. How cinematic.

Liz sighs again, shrugging her shoulders. “I’m sorry. I just..I hate how self-centered she is.” The next few minutes are blissfully quiet, leaving me to gradually work up the courage to speak again. 

“It’s okay. I just wanna forget about this, like she probably will.” I sit up for the third or fourth time, continually shuffling around in place to try and get comfortable; it was difficult under the nervousness.

“You’re right, it’s probably best for everyone if we just forget lunch happened today. She’ll get over it, don’t worry.” Liz takes her eyes off the road for a second to comfort me with a smile, which works. This will blow over by the end of this week, and Olivia will forget I even made another friend. Though I can’t get this nagging desire for an answer out of my head. Just why did she storm off like that? 

“I dunno, what do you think?” Maybe Liz would know?

“About what? Olivia?”

“Yeah, why is she so..jealous?” That’s about the best word to describe it, as mean as it was.

“I can’t say. Haven’t seen her get like this before.” Liz squints at a passing car, before further clearing the air. “I mean, if she sulked that hard over you and this other girl meeting up, imagine what she’d say if she found out you and I were riding together.” She grins, snickering at her own snide comment.

I’ll play into it- someone smarter than me in this situation like Damien would probably follow up with a quip. “Pfft, yeah right. Us two. Alone- as if.” The dial-up tone in my brain was loud and painful as I came to realize what I just said, regret striking me across the head. Why did I say that!?

A tense aura takes a stranglehold on the front seats, Liz glancing at me a dozen times over the course of thirty seconds. “...You made it weird.”

“Sorry..” I reach up and rub the back of my head as Liz laughs. 

“Oh, you’re hopeless.” The mood was lightened after that, though it was at my expense; I didn’t mind. Figuring it was a good idea to check and see if Trish was still coming, I pat my pocket for my phone- it’s gone. Uh-oh. Patting the other pocket; it’s not there either. Dangit- oh. Wait.

Digging my hand in the crack between the seat and the door, I feel my phone. Must have fallen out in my shuffling. Fishing it from the pit of despair, I turn it on and swipe to Trish’s contact.

I: “Hey! We’re still on for the mall, right?”

The on-and-off texting I’ve been able to do with her throughout the day was with long intervals between each message, so I go ahead and turn off my phone until it buzzes five minutes later. Turning it back on, I read the blurb in my notification bar.

T: “Yup”

I: “Awesome! What exactly did you want to do once we got there, by the way? I never asked.”

Another delay between her next message- shorter, this time.

T: “IDK :/”

T: “Just thought it’d be fun.”

I: “Hey, that’s alright! Where should I expect to find you?”

T: “Elevators”

I: “Sounds good. I’ll be there soon.”

T: “KK!”

I end the conversation with a funny GIF of a dog lifting it’s paw as if to say goodbye, which she reads but does not respond to. Sliding my thumb up the side of my phone to turn it off, I freeze- seeing Olivia’s contact in my list, and I’m reminded we haven’t talked since lunch. After careful consideration, I turn my phone off and stuff it in my pocket; she’ll message me when she’s ready.

The rain worsened as Liz parked her car as close to the entrance of the mall as possible, digging around in the side compartment of the door before thrusting a pocket folding umbrella in my direction. She stops me just as I open the door and swing my leg out- retracting it to save my pants from the rain. “You can keep the umbrella. Be safe.”

“You too, Liz.” I flash her a smile before unfolding the umbrella out of the car, standing up underneath it and shutting it. The sky was overcast, making everything a shade of glistening grey. Thankfully, the rain was light and didn’t create too many puddles; allowing me to freely exit the parking lot onto the sidewalk and head for the mall’s airlock sliding doors. I folded the umbrella shut once I was inside, electing to just carry it around with me as I walked.

The set of two elevators Trish said we should meet at was dead-center aligned with the front doors, blocked from view by a set of pillars plastered in advertisements and a map detailing the oblong building and the stores within it. Plants and vines adorned the tops of every out-of-reach surface, coiling around the rafters high up in the roof and almost drowning out the skylights that illuminated the building with that dull, rainy day light.

Hooking my finger through the lanyard loop on the umbrella’s handle, I spin it around two fingers as I walk- almost tempted to whistle as I sauntered for the elevators. The place wasn’t too crowded, at least for a mall. Having yet to see Trish anywhere, I take a seat on a long, unoccupied bench hugging the railing. Evidently my timing was perfect, as before I could get bored enough from idling to pull out my phone; a set of yellow-laced red boots stepped into view.

“Sup.” Standing up to greet her, Trish undoes her droplet-stained hood, dropping it behind her head. 

“Hey! Good to see you again.” I hold my hand out for her to shake, which she stares at for a few seconds before awkwardly taking it and lightly shaking up and down.

“Weirdo. Who greets someone with a handshake?” She smirks, pocketing her hands.

“Uh..me.” I can’t tell if she was off-put by my dorky smile or indifferent, she was kind of hard to read.

Trish takes a seat next to where I was a moment ago, leading me to drop back down as well. A few burning questions are on my mind, but I figure one is more important than the others. “So, what’s the plan? You just wanna sit and talk? Maybe get something to eat?”

She thinks about it for a moment, leaning back and stretching her legs out across the space in front of her. “Hm. Come to think of it, I do need some supplies for my bass. Mostly just wanted to walk around and..y’know. Get to know you and stuff.” Well, that’s fine by me!

“Sure! Theres a music store here, right?”

“Nah. Just felt like starting here, the place is across town.” Trish’s evil little smirk causes me to falter. She wasn’t serious, right?

“..Is it?” I ask, fearful.

“Pfffffft.” She breaks down laughing, throwing her head down and nearly planting it in her lap. “No, dude. It’s like a five minute walk that way.” Trish flings back upright and nods in front of us, leaving me flustered. 

“Don’t scare me like that.” Crossing my arms, I put on my best pout. “Physical activity is very harmful to my health.” 

We both get a good giggle out of my gag, and she stands up to lead the way. I have to double-back towards the bench after a few feet, forgetting the umbrella I had left sitting in between us. Umbrella in hand, I walk alongside her and think of a good icebreaker question. First thing that comes to mind..

“So, you come here often?”

Smooth, Inco. Like sandpaper.

“Yeah, sometimes. Food court is cheap, and theres a dispensary Reed is into on the first floor.” I think I recall her mentioning that Reed guy playing the drums for her band, but thats about all I knew about him. Aside from his favorite dispensary now, I guess. Stoners use those, right? Is Reed a stoner? 

“I haven’t been here yet, actually. It’s pretty.”

I really admired all the greenery Volcaldera Bluffs put into it’s public infrastructure. It was one of my favorite parts of the city, both for aesthetic purposes and more important reasons like the environment. Before I can admire nature’s beauty harnessed by man any further, I realize Trish is staring at me expectantly. “Oh, crap. Sorry- what’s up?”

“I asked if you have any other friends.”

“Oh, totally-” Totally? “..Yeah, I do. We’re not in a band or anything cool like that, we just hang out.” I considered venting to her a little about Olivia, but, too soon. Not like it matters much anyway, I’m here to learn about my new friend; not stress out over my best friend. 

“Nice. You into anything other than photography?” That was a good question. Being forced to think introspectively, I blanked. Crap, what was I into other than photography?

“Uhm..I like...video essays on yousnoot?” I don’t think I could have sounded more nervous saying that out loud if I tried, wow. She’s probably gonna make fun of me for that. 

“I’ve..heard worse.” Trish looks off to the side, fighting the urge to cringe. I can see it her eyes; she thinks I’m cringe. “Kind of bland, honestly. You don’t get out and do anything?”

“I hang out with my friends sometimes. Like right now.” She exhaled air through her nose with that one, that meant I was funny. 

“I meant, like, on your own. Do you just go home and watch yousnoot all day? What are these video essays about?” At the very least, I had an out of this situation should the time call for it; I could see the sign for the music store coming up ahead of us.

“Just, like- videogames I haven’t played, maybe TV shows I’ve watched. I just like the talking, it’s good background noise.” Just a couple more storefronts left. I guess it wasn’t a bad thing- showing my interests like this. I’m sure she wouldn’t think I’m weird for not doing anything other than watching TV and movies all day.

“What do your parents do, then? Let you hog the TV?” She pokes fun at me, back again with that smirk.

“Well, my..parents aren’t around much. So, I do have free reign over the TV, yeah!” I wonder what her parents are like- or her siblings, if she has any.

“Hm. We’re here, come on.” She speeds up ahead of me, leaving me at my slow walking pace. Oh, huh. I was actually getting into the conversation. That’s fine; we came here for a reason. At least, we’re here for a reason now. I speedwalk around a white scaled, salt-and-pepper speckled troodon girl and her mother, slipping through the open front doors of the music store.

It’s a quaint little hole in the wall, faded disco-era carpeting and peeling wallpaper revealing concrete added to the alt-style charm. Up above the shelves and racks hung various grungy looking T-shirts, sticker-laden instruments, and posters of bands I don’t recognize. The entire place looked..punk? Goth? Emo? Definitely one of those, I think. Trish disappeared deeper into the store, I could just barely see the top of her crest sticking out from behind a rack of plastic-wrapped gizmos.

This left me to slowly wander around and look at all the interesting choices of art decor and fascinating musical tools, hands crossed firmly behind my back. Trish passes by me, and I spot a shopping list in her hands. That would explain her almost robotic and precise pacing around the store, she must be buying supplies for her band. Glancing over towards the register, the raptor cashier was resting her head on her folded arms; bangs covering her eyes.

How did people with hair like that ever see? I never understood it. Evidently, I lost track of time while staring at a framed photo of who I’m guessing is the store’s owner posing with the members of a band on a stage. I didn’t recognize the people, or the scratchy looking logo on the owner’s shirt. A gentle nudge to my side snaps me out of my intense studying. 

Looking down, I uncross my arms and wordlessly follow Trish to the cash register. She stares at the relaxing cashier for a second, before clearing her throat and..snapping the cashier out of her slumber. She was sleeping, presumably on the clock. Huh. “Oh- shit, my bad. What’s good?” The two exchange a fist-bump and Trish unloads all the goods from the makeshift pouch she made by folding the bottom of her hoodie upwards.

Watching over her crest as each item is rung up, I didn’t recognize a single one. A set of cables, some doohickey- a metronome, based on the comic sans logo tacked onto it’s plastic prison. Other than that, nothing I could guess at a glance. There was a lot of it though, the total coming out to almost a hundred dollars. Didn’t realize this stuff could get that expensive.

Trish pulls out a well-worn wallet from her back pocket, unfolding it and counting out a couple twenty dollar bills. She goes over the stack a few more times, faster and faster with each attempt; quickly peeling open the wallet and shaking out a ten. She was just over twenty bucks short- clicking her tongue in frustration. “Fuck me.”

“Sorry, sister. Can’t let it slide this time, boss has been on my ass.” The yellow-scaled cashier shrugs, looking between the items on the table and the register’s screen. Trish lets out a sigh of defeat and starts sifting through the small pile, tapping her foot rapidly. Patting my pocket for my own wallet, I pull it out and hold it over Trish’s head.

“I got it, hold on.” Trish moves out from under my arm, both her and the cashier looking surprised. Digging out thirty dollars, I hand it over to the girl behind the counter and grin. “Keep the change, maybe get some good will in with your boss.” She looks between me and the triceratops, flicking her head and parting her bangs. 

“..Sick, aight.” The cashier plucks the notes out of my hand and sticks it into the outdated device with a satisfying series of clicks and hollow sounding pops.

Backing up from the counter, I meet Trish’s scrutinizing glare with a thumbs-up and winning smile. “Don’t worry about it.” She slowly walks back over to the counter and takes the paper bag the cashier handed to her, holding it under her arm and trading another fist-bump with the girl running the register. “Later.”

As we both exit the music store, Trish looks satisfied with herself. “So, what is all that stuff for, anyway?” I ask, wondering what her band could possibly need all that for. 

“Some skinnie fuck jacked my friend’s van, stole everything he could get his hands on.” I could hear her mutter a continuation under her breath, deciding against pressing further. 

“That sucks. I’m sorry, Trish.”

“...Not your fault.” She paused before answering, transitioning quickly. “Okay, I’m starving. Wanna hit the food court?” I have a feeling this wasn’t a question of if we wanted to eat, more if I wanted to join her while she ate. I wasn’t gonna turn down the offer either way. “Sure.”

We shared stories about school- she got a kick about hearing my dodgeball mishap on my first day. Was really the only thing she reacted to, otherwise just listening intently as I rambled. She had her time in the spotlight as we circled around the carousel every mall I’ve ever been in seems to have, telling me about her first concert at her school.

..And how terribly it went, which left me feeling awful for her. “I’m sorry, that must have really sucked. I bet you guys have gotten way better since then, though.” Trish shoots me a dirty glare as the words leave my mouth, scowling at me. Sensitive topic, I think. “S-sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It’s..” She grits her teeth, before closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. “You’re fine, Inco. I’m gonna hit up KFC. You into herbivore stuff?” Trish throws a thumb over her shoulder.

I look past the short girl and note the green and white fast food joint across the court, shaking my head. “No, thanks. Meet me back here with your food?”

Trish nods and retreats, turning around on her heels and eagerly weaving around tables to get to her restaurant of choice. I, on the other hand, turn around and cup my chin- consulting the varied and colorful choices before me. I already knew what I wanted, but I had to confirm if anything else was around. Nope, nothing. 

Pachy Express it is. It may not be good Pachynese cuisine, but it’s better than nothing. Taking my spot at the back of the thankfully short line, I pass the time by staring down at my phone, feeling relatively pleased with how this is going so far. Trish is nice, she’s interested in the stuff I do- wants to hang out with me. Hasn’t yelled at me for being friends with anyone else.

As I slander my best friend, the corners of my lips curl downward and I open up Olivia’s contact. No new messages, I feel awful just for thinking that way about her. I’m sure she’s over it by now, probably asleep or something. Maybe I should message her? No, she would come to me when she was ready. Gah- my mind is all scrambled. Focus on the good part of today, just like Liz said.

A nudge to the back of my foot snaps me out of my thought and I realize I’m first in line, and have been staring at the cashier like an idiot for a good 30 seconds. I order my food and walk off to the side of the line, going back to doing nothing on my phone. Over the constant drone of the crowd, I hear the rain crash down on the roof even harder. Looks like It wasn’t just a drizzle, oh well.

My order number is called out and I take the tray of food into the sea of tables, finding Trish already sitting at one close to a pillar lined with wall outlets, her phone plugged in and charging in front of her tray. She was focused on absolutely devouring a black plastic bowl of what I’m guessing is this famous Khantucky Fried Cabbage, eating as fast as she could spear another piece with her fork.

Sitting opposite of her, I interlock my hands and watch her eat for a moment, curious as to what the appeal was with this fast food. She notices my gawking and lifts her head, blinking slowly. “What, do you want some?”

“No- no. Is it any good?” I hadn’t really been interested in any specific carnivore/herbivore places before, sticking with omnivorous and specifically human palettes. This, though, this was tempting. 

“Duh. It’s the best.” She stabs another strip of cabbage out of the bowl, going to take it into her mouth before pausing.

Trish hands the plastic fork over to me. “Try it.” I stare at the pale yellow morsel impaled on the fork, taking it out of her hands and taking a dainty bite. Oh, wow. That’s potent. Kind of spicy, crunchy, I guess the Khantucky part was true- tastes Cajun.

Swallowing the piece offered, I exhale. “Geez, that’s a lot better than I was expecting.” 

I pass the fork back to a very pleased-with-herself triceratops, nodding. “Damn right.” 

I dig into my own food shortly after that. It’s definitely not the quality of the stuff I have delivered to my house every other day, but it certainly suffices. The first couple minutes are the two of us just enjoying our food, before I break the silence with a question I’ve had on the mind.

“So, your band-” I split my sentence with a bite of cheap noodles. “When did you start it?” Don’t talk with your mouth full, Inco.

Trish skips her gaze from her tray to me a few times, the gears visibly turning in her brain. “Me and Fang started it in middle school, just for fun. Then Reed joined, and we made it official.” That makes sense, yeah. I can see it.

“Other than that uh..one time- at your school, have you played anywhere else?” Being careful to tiptoe around the sensitive topic, this band seems pretty important to her- so surely they’ve taken it elsewhere outside of the school.

She huffs at the mention of her band’s auditorium experience, leaning back in her chair. “We’re looking for a venue for another concert right now. Or, they are.” Trish scowls again, muttering something under her breath. “I’m working on advertisements and merch.”

“Merchandise? Like what?” She sits up, reaching across the table to retrieve her phone from it’s charger cable.

“I make the posters and stuff. Graphic design, you could call it.” I was gonna ask to see anyway, but Trish beat me to it. She scrolls through her gallery, before turning her phone around to reveal..

Oh.

“Pretty sick, right? Made it for our first concert.” It’s making me sick. I keep my expression as neutral as possible, fighting back the urge to cringe. It’s a swathe of random poorly-cropped and low quality technicolor images ripped straight from Gruugle; a guitar being struck by lightning serving as the centerpiece. She wasn’t wrong, it was definitely graphic design- but WOW. “What do you think?” Oh, crap.

“It’s..wow. All by yourself?” Good recovery, Trish doesn’t even look displeased with my reaction!
 
“I made a CD case too.” She puts her phone away and digs back into her meal, probably intent on finishing up with how quickly she was eating. In contrast, I barely touched my food. Too engrossed in talking to her, she’s fun to chat with. If not a little abrasive at times.

Trish checks her phone again, groaning. “Shit, I gotta be home soon. Have to fuckin’ walk through the rain, too. Ugh.” She stands up and walks over to a trash can, sliding the contents of her tray into it and sliding it into an accompanying rack. Grabbing my phone out of my pocket, I shake my head. I’m not gonna let her walk home, it’s raining cats and dogs outside!

As Trish sits back down, I turn my phone around to show her the taxi app I have pulled up. “Put in your address, it’d be silly to try and get home in the rain.” She looks shocked, but before she can object I’m already gone from the table with my tray; repeating what she did to discard my food scraps. Coming back over, my phone is on my half of the table, a ‘Thank you for requesting your ride!’ message displayed on the screen.

“You ready?” Trish has her knees up on her chair, spacing out while staring at my phone.

“Y-yeah, I’m good. Let’s bounce.” She stands up and I lead her for a change, walking us towards the exit. Maybe I was too..forward? Trish seems a little closed off now, just quietly keeping pace with me and staring blankly ahead. I hope I didn’t creep her out. Halfway there, her phone buzzes- and she spends the next stretch texting with someone instead of spacing out.

Nearing the automatic sliding doors, I unfold the pocket umbrella Liz gave me earlier today- the sound causing Trish to stop ahead of me and turn around. “You gonna soak yourself or what?” I offer the umbrella in front of me, and she looks surprised again. 

“Oh. You’re uh- yeah, yeah. Right.” She comes and stands next to me, and we share the umbrella space.

It was difficult- trying to time our walking speeds so we both were safely hidden underneath the small canopy. But she was..compact, and we made it work, she was just barely squished against my side. I had to tuck my arm under the other to give her enough room to squeeze in.

Exiting the mall after the short delay, we walk side-by-side to the edge of the curb and stand; waiting for her cab to come by. It’d been a couple hours since we got here, the evening settling in and washing the overcast scene in yellows and oranges. It was shockingly vibrant for the downpour, I wish I had my camera on me. I always end up wanting it every time I go somewhere with-

Trish tugs my arm free, wrapping her hand around mine and shuffling closer to me. Her scales are cool, proving almost uncomfortable to hold- She’s holding my hand. A girl. Under my umbrella. Pressed up against me. Holding my hand. Why is it hard to breathe all of a sudden?

My brain skips between dozens of different explanations and justifications in seconds, body stiffening as she nonchalantly hums like this wasn’t a big deal. She’s just being nice, Inco. Shut up- shut. Hush; she’s just being nice. Am I being recorded? Have I secretly been an actor for a Hallmark movie this entire time? No, shut up. I already SAID shut up!

Is she pretending not to notice how flustered I am? I can feel my face heating up, feet awkwardly shuffling in place every few seconds. Say something. No, she’ll say something. No- I need to say something. Clearing my throat, I try my best to start another conversation. Anything to clear the air; if there is any. Is this awkward? Am I making it awkward?

“sO-” My voice cracked. She’s looking at me. “So- uh. What’s up?”

Trish tilts her head to look at me, shrugging. “My hands are cold, and I was getting wet.” She turns herself, revealing a wet patch on her shoulder. Briefly releasing my hand, she links her arm underneath mine- going back to holding my hand. SHE DID IT TWICE!?

“Oh. Okay.” That was it, yup. She’s just cold; that makes sense. Total sense. It’s not weird, or anything. This was..this was kind of nice. I don’t mind this. Just as I was getting used to the sensation, the errant screech of rubber and splashing water causes Trish and I to look at the entrance to the parking lot; a beat-up taxi cab almost riding onto the curb before rolling to a stop in front of us.

I walk her to the car, and she releases my hand to open the door. “This was fun, Inco. Should do it again sometime.” The words catch in my throat again, coming out as a stutter. Giving up, I just nod and mumble. “Yeah, we should.”

Stepping back from the door, she reaches over and closes it- the taxi speeding off the second it clicks shut. I can’t help but feel worried for both Trish and the driver’s safety, I can’t fathom how many rules of the road he’s breaking driving like that. 

Well. That just happened. Looking down at my hand, the one she was holding, I stare at it for what feels like way too long- slowly closing it and sticking it in my jacket pocket. I found it difficult to stop the dorky smile spreading across my face- before my premature celebration is cut short by a profound realization.

...

I should have probably gotten into that cab too, huh?

Chapter Text

PE and Art class were illuminated by grey-scale lighting, thanks to the forecast looking grim for the next few days. Not entirely unusual for early fall, sometimes it just got rainy. I can’t picture why it’d be any different on the coast, but the gloomy atmosphere was a good backdrop to be sorry for myself for yesterday’s events. Olivia had dodged me throughout the day so far, although I couldn’t tell if it was on accident or on purpose. 

Lunch was up next, though. Maybe I’d find her then, ask her what the big deal was yesterday. I still didn’t know, even with my attempts to ask her over text and through Damien. According to him, to quote- ‘The Dragon has yet to leave it’s evil cave for the day, weary traveler!’

Predictable goofy reply aside, he told me he had no clue either and was equally as bummed out as I am about it. It felt mean talking about her avoiding me when she was literally the next desk over, but, she seemed more focused on the class than I am. I was just trying to not stare at her like a creep, leading me to space out and not pay attention; a grave mistake.

“Mr. Nito!” A sound akin to a gavel snapped me out of my melancholy, and I stare wide-eyed at Mr. Iadakan. He had an actual gavel, flipping the mallet in his off-hand while he pointed at me dramatically with the other.

“The question, if you will.” Oh, no. He caught me spacing out. He knows I wasn’t paying attention- crap. Crap. Turn the gears, Inco, think of something and FAST!

“I..uh..I- uhm, well-”

A green hand briefly dipping into my peripheral distracts me, glancing to my left to see Olivia’s hand raised as high as she can get it. “Bah, oh well. Olivia, go ahead.” Mr. Iadakan waves me off and allows the gator to answer in my stead, leaving me reeling.

I was too distracted to actually listen to the answer and gauge what the question was based off of that information, instead sinking back into my seat and looking sorry for myself. Once she’s finished speaking, Olivia glances at me and smirks- and I can’t help but share the smile. That makes my day a lot better, any further grievances I was going to daydream about being tossed out of the window.

The rest of class went smoothly after that, Olivia wheeling herself out early as per usual. It’s strange, the weather itself seem to follow my mood- proper daylight shone through the windows and into the classroom as I packed up what little I took out of my bag and got ready to leave. 

Standing up, I funnel out of the classroom- looking over my shoulder to see a smug looking teacher waving me off. Finally off to lunch, I realize how hungry I was. Guess all that sorrowing- is that a word? I don’t think so. Guess all that misery drains the breakfast out of you. The walk to the cafeteria was uneventful, in contrast to what was happening inside; the brawl in the center of the room seemed especially violent today. I think I saw someone holding a chair.

Snaking out of the splash zone and into my delightfully secluded corner, Damien waves me in to the conversation; everyone including ‘Liv present. “Inkyyyy! Sit down!”

“What’s up?” I take my seat next to Olivia, who is tearing into a piece of meatloaf like a rabid dog.

The question seems to short-circuit his brain, looking between me and Olivia before resetting. “Nothin’ much, was just offering for you to sit down.”

“Oh, alright.” I shrug, resting my arm on the table and looking at the space before me as I realize I didn’t grab anything to eat. “Excuse me for a second.” I rise from the table to go and grab my daily feast from the vending machine. I’d like to actually eat from what they’re serving in the cafeteria, but I don’t wanna risk damaging any of my clothes or Raptor Jesus forbid, my camera.

..And also me, me getting injured is important too. Wouldn’t be my first rodeo in the nurses office, at least. Is that a good thing? Before I can ponder the cost-to-benefit ratio of throwing myself into a crowd of angry saurians, a not-that-angry looking saurian in a wheelchair rolls up next to me. “Hey.”

Turning to look at her, I smile. “Hey, ‘Liv.”

“First of all, I’m uh..” She looks for the words, patting her wheelchair. “I’m sorry for yesterday.”

“No, no. You’re fine, no big deal.” It didn’t matter all that much, was just strange. “Just don’t do it again, huh?” I chuckle, turning to the vending machine and punching my order into the keypad. One- no, two bags of plain salt flavored potato chips.

“Sure. Second-” Olivia whips me in the ankle with her tail, and I bring my stinging achilles up into my hands- leaning against the vending machine and wincing.

“That’s for saving your ass during art, you goof. Pay attention.” Olivia leans forward, leering up at me with a grin.

“Okay, okay. I get it, fine.” Vengeance time. I suddenly release my leg and shoot my hand forward- gently booping Olivia’s pushed-forth snoot. “Boop.”

She throws her head back. “Damnit! I can’t believe THAT got me.”

“Never let your guard down.” Prediction proving true, I lift my leg just in time for her to swipe at my ankle again and miss. “Like that-AGH!” She brought it back and hit me in the shin, leaving me in pain as she rolls back to the table snickering.

Grabbing my delectable meal of two whole tiny bags of potato chips, I sit back down and breeze through Damien and Olivia’s rambling. It was one-sided, as always, but she was back to her old self- which was important. I didn’t get to participate much, but I was fine with observing the conversation.

I didn’t get to make that decision however, as during one of Damien’s tall tales the gator perks up- remembering something, and turning to me. “Inco, I forgot to tell you.”

Intrigued, I put down my chip bag and nod, turning to face her. “Huh?”

“A new episode for an anime I’m watching just came out. You want to watch it with me? I’ll start you on it, we can binge it.” She grabs her canteen while I think of an answer, unscrewing the cap and taking a long-lasting sip.

“Sure! My parents bought a box of popcorn too, you can come over to my place- it’ll be like a movie night!” Not a movie. “Or, like..a night at the movies. Theater.”

Olivia snorts. “You’re stupid.” Said in the most caring manner possible.

I cross my arms defiantly. “I’m not stupid. I’m silly. Big difference, bub.” That rouses a full laugh from Olivia, which was music to my ears.

“This evening after school sound good- ‘bub’?” She puts her canteen up and goes back into obliterating her meatloaf, whipping her head around and flinging meat juice to her left and right. I lean backwards to avoid getting my jacket stained, nodding. “Yup, I’ll call you when.”

The rest of the day was average, history being as dull as ever made the excitement of my movie night wear off. I didn’t risk playing the silly note-passing game either, Mrs. Prockling had cracked down on it as of late. But, soon enough, I managed to escape the building. Olivia caught up to me as I headed towards the train station. “We still good for tonight?”

“Yup. How does..seven PM sound?” Should give me plenty of time to dust and make my place presentable. And also lay around and be lazy, which is mandatory for a fragile creature such as myself. 

“That’ll work. See you then, Inco.” Olivia hesitates before stopping her wheelchair and turning around in the other direction, rolling off towards the school again. Probably the parking lot to catch a ride home, or maybe she risks it and just walks. Rolls.

Some time later, I settle down onto my seat in the metro and enjoy the tranquil atmosphere for a short time, panning my vision around the train car. The same group of people I always rode with was around; I wonder if anyone else here has realized its always the same 4 other people with them. Probably not, I think I’m just too observant. Before I can do any more trainspotting, theres a buzzing in my pocket.

Pulling my phone out, Trish has messaged me.

T: “Hey.”

I: “Hey! Whatsup?”

T: “IDK”

T: “Just a bad day. :(“

I: “That sucks. I’m sorry, what happened?”

A better question would’ve been ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ but, I already sent it. Dangit, Inco.

T: “Just family stuff. Shit happens, no big deal.”

T: “Oh yea”

T: “I never asked”

T: “Whats ur family like?”

I wince, looking up from my phone and halting my thumbs’ instinctual reaction to immediately start typing. I don’t know if I should lay the truth on her this early- I mean, I guess it isn’t that much of an issue. She won’t be weirded out.

I: “Distant. They’re not around much, because of work and stuff.”

Trish hesitates while typing, the little notification telling me so disappearing briefly.

T: “Damn.”

T: “Thats rough dudue”

T: “Fuck”

T: “Dude!!”

T: “What kind of work?”

I: ”Big names at an architectural firm. They go to a lot of meetings, so we’re constantly moving around.”

I stop myself from typing further, don’t dump it all on her. Gotta be careful.

T: “Wow. Must be fun right?”

I: “You’d think so. But uh, no. Not really.”

T: “Atleast it pays right?”

I: “I guess thats a positive, we’ve always been pretty well-off, I guess.”

T: “Loll”

T: “You mentioned you guys moved here recently right?”

T: “Where do you live?”

The question dislodges a memory from when I first moved here, some of the very first photos I took when I got into the city. The sunset perched just behind the roof of my house once we got done moving in was stunning, so I got on the other side of the road and took some photos of the scene. Scrolling far down into my cloud app’s gallery, I send her the photos.

I: “I live up in Agarthi Heights, here are some pics I took of my house. I think the sunset behind it looks really cool! Some of the first photos I took when I moved here, too.”

She doesn’t respond for a time after that, probably stunned by my- heh- awesome photography skills. I was still kind of a newbie at the craft, though. Admittedly this isn’t my best work, but they’re special to me. Eventually, she gets back to me.

T: “Wow.”

T: “Those are really good!!”

T: “Shoulda guessed you lived on easy street though :P”

I chuckle, that was funny. 

I: “What about you?”

T: “Over by skin row, condos”

T: “Cheap”

T: “About all we could ask for TBH :////”

I wince, her living near Skin Row of all places didn’t bode well. She doesn’t seem bothered, though.

T: “Aslong as you’re happy.”

We keep up the small talk, which kept me satisfied all the way until I was at my front door. She never elaborated on what made her day bad, which was fine- I just hope I was a good enough distraction from whatever happened to her. Setting my phone down on the kitchen counter, I open up a nearby cupboard and pull out the as-of-now unused cleaning spray and rag.

The next hour or so is spent dusting basically every surface in the house, a profound realization hitting me like an anvil on a cartoon character’s head while I was jamming out to Call Me Maybe. Theres a girl- coming to my house, alone. To watch anime with me, alone. In my house. Alone.

I take a seat on the couch and think about this. It’s not a..thing, not at all. Just friends being friends. Don’t overthink it, don’t make it weird. I distract myself further and keep cleaning, up until everything in the house is spotless and I worked up a good sweat. A stint in the shower, a fresh change of clothes, and I finally collapse into my couch and put on some video essay about the history of closed-down amusement park attractions.

Snapping my head up as my doorbell rings, I jump off the couch and whip around in delirium- the view out of my windows being nearly pitch-black. Raindrops spattered against them, a light drizzle coating my neighborhood. All the lights in the house were off, leaving the only source of illumination being my smart TV asking if I was still watching.

Oh, crap. I fell asleep! Running for the door, I come to a halt and turn on the lights for the front entrance, straightening my jacket and adjusting my shades. I wrap my hand around the handle and swing it open. revealing a lightly soaked green gator girl in a purple hoodie, a blanket folded in her lap. Olivia.

“Thought you died or somethin’, never answered any of my texts. And I rung the doorbell twice.” The smirk on her snout betrays the displeased look in her gray-white eyes.

“I was uh..I fell asleep. Sorry.” I rub the back of my sore neck, the pain reminding me that I had slept in the most awkward position possible.

“Nah, you’re good.”

Theres a gap in the conversation, and we both stare at each other. Lightning flashes in the background, casting Olivia’s backside in white for a split-second.

“..You gonna gawk at me or let me in? I’m cold as shit.” She crosses her arms, pouting.

“Oh- crap, sorry. Again.” I move aside to let her in, folding my feet to the side to avoid having my toes crushed by her wheels. Shutting the door behind her with her tail, she rolls over to the couch; dismounting her wheelchair and flopping onto the stark-white cushions. “Aaaah yeah. This is almost as comfy as my bed.”

Sliding over to the fridge, I pull it open- reflexively reaching for a can of soda. Make yourself look presentable, Inco. I grab two bottles of water instead, closing the chrome door and resisting the urge to skip to the couch. I was happy that Olivia was here, we haven’t hung out in awhile. She hisses at me as I pass in front of the TV to sit across from her, resting the bottle I grabbed for her between us.

“So, what’s this anime about? I don’t think you told me.” She half-turns her head to face me, splitting her attention between searching for the show on the television and talking to me.

“Well-” I tried my best to listen, but lost her after the first sentence. It was called Gundam, and had something to do with mechsuits. Nodding my head along, she shrugs and finishes it off with a dramatic click of the remote- hovering over the play button. “You’ll figure it out, just watch.”

And watch I did. For at least the first 5 minutes, until I realized I completely forgot the popcorn I had promised to make. As I sit up, I pause- sinking back into the couch. “Hey, ‘Liv?” She snaps out of her trance to look at me. “You..can eat popcorn, right?”

“Nope. Instantly lethal, I’d choke to death and die on the spot. You weren’t gonna feed me any, were you?” Olivia raises a brow, leaning over in my direction incredulously.

“...No.” My heart jumps into my throat, making it difficult to squeeze the words out.

The facade shatters, and ‘Liv bursts out laughing for a grueling minute or so- literally keeling over and struggling to breathe. “Bahah! Ahaha..hah.” It finally dies down, and she answers. “No..no. I can eat popcorn, dummy. Just not a lot of it. Like, a small bowl.”

She looks off behind me for a second, eyes glazing over. “A heavenly, small little bowl of delight. I love popcorn, it’s like forbidden fruit.”

“Popcorn is a grain actu-” Olivia pings her almost empty water bottle off my shiny head with a hiss.

“Shuddup and go make me my snack.” I giggle and stand, walking over to the kitchen and digging around in the cabinets to find where my parents hid the popcorn box. Before I crouched down to check the lower cabinets, my phone buzzes. I fish it out of my pocket and- Oh, Trish.

T: “Sooo”

T: “Wyd RN”

I: “Just hanging out and watching some..”

Not anime, she might find that weird.

I: “TV.”

T: “Hmmm”

T: “Okie :P”

She doesn’t reply further after that, so I put my phone on mute and go back to searching; first cabinet I opened, the red-and-white striped box sat there. Well aren’t I lucky! Grabbing the box, I tear it open and fetch two of the plastic-wrapped brown bags, pulling each one free of it’s transparent prison and tossing them into the microwave. Two minutes is a pretty good average for any bag of microwaveable popcorn. It’ll get most of the kernels, usually.

I sit and stare at the bags as they slowly begin to uncurl and crack delightfully with now popped corn, careful not to salivate. I hadn’t ate anything in awhile, usually about now was the time I’d order some takeout or something- but, I needed to look like I wasn’t a shut-in weirdo for Olivia. She’d already got a taste of that back when I got sick.

Hearing her snort and laugh at something serves as a good distraction from the hunger pains, It was infectious. Thinking about her leads me back to that memory at the lunch table, how peeved she got from hearing about Trish. Maybe now would be a good time to ask her about that; though, maybe not considering it might ruin the time we have together.

Hmm. I guess it doesn’t really matter, water under the bridge. No point bringing it up if she’s probably already forgotten about it. The microwave beeps, and I rise from my leaning position against the counter to fetch the two bags out of the laser beam box. Setting them down on the stove to cool, I dig two bowls out of a cabinet and pull the bags open; pouring them into the bowls and discarding the husks into the trash.

Popcorn in hand, I make my way back over to the couch and pass Olivia her bowl, which she stares into before planting her snout into the middle and chomping away. I watch the display, like an animal at the zoo- before shrugging and sitting down closer to her. “Fghanksh.” She says, mouth full of popped corn. Pointing the remote outward, she unpauses the episode.

Another five minutes in, I could tell this wasn’t really new. The animation was dated- but she told me the show she wanted to watch was a new one. As the first episode comes to a close fifteen minutes later, I lift my head out of the cushion. “Didn’t you say you wanted to watch a new series?”

“Well, yeah. But you need to..you gotta watch something old first. Gotta ease you into it.” She gesticulates, bringing a hand out of her blanket bundle and rolling it around.

“I guess that makes sense. Fine by me!” I give her a thumbs-up, which satisfies the warmth-hogging gator. Man, my house can get cold sometimes. I reach down and zip my jacket up, the sound alerting Olivia.

“Are you cold?” She pauses the TV.

“Yeah, you’re hogging all the blankets.”

“Your house, dude. Just take ‘em back.” Olivia writhes around under the fuzzy beige covering, her tail tip poking out in my direction.

“That’s mean, though..” I slide my hands into my sleeves, folding my arms.

“Just..fine. Come here.” She up-nods, and I stare at her for a few moments. “Inco.”

“Okay- okay.”

Shuffling over towards her, she lifts the two blankets; giving me just enough room to shimmy under next to her. Calm, relax. Not any close contact. You’re fine. Olivia’s tail snakes around my back, the tip resting on my thigh. I was wrong, close contact. Not the time to panic yet, we’re fine. Just revel in the fact you’re warm and comfortable.

“You mind if uh..” She glances down to her legs, awkwardly curled up against my side.

Not really knowing what she meant, I slightly turn my head in her direction and nod, swallowing the lump in my throat.

“Sick.” Olivia picks up her legs and throws them over mine, laying out flat across the couch and leaving me tangled in her limbs, sitting ramrod straight. Okay NOW I can freak out. My heart rate picks up, rattling against my ribcage at a faster and faster pace. Her ploy successful, Olivia unpauses the show and leans her head back against the armrest; looking peaceful.

Well, crap. Now I can’t bother her, she’s comfortable. On me. Just. Focus. On. The. Robots.

The next 20 minutes were slow, Olivia only seemed to get more comfortable; adjusting her position on the couch every once in awhile and conveniently inching closer to me until her head is on a pillow and her lower half is pressed against my hip, tail wrapped fully around my legs. I felt like a rabbit being constrained by a python, except the python was rumbling like a car engine. Or, purring like a cat? Tiger. Big cat.

I didn’t even know gators could purr- or, hum. She hissed at me plenty, but this? Unpredictable behaviour. ‘Liv seems to notice my nervous disposition, the show suddenly pausing. “You good?”

“I- uh, yeah. I’m fine. Just..uh.” Sh-crap, don’t freak out in front of her. You’re gonna make it WEIRD!

“Your legs going numb?” Oh, thank you for the save.

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry.”

“Just lay down, here.” She scoots towards the edge of the couch, releasing my waist and patting the new empty space behind her with her tail. I forget to breathe for a second, the concept of spooning with a girl completely alien to me. “You need me to move?”

I cough, collecting my voice to answer. “N-no, uh-”

Ding dong.

We both pause, turning our heads to the door. Who the heck is ringing my door bell at..I can’t think of the time- at this hour? Sharing a glance with Olivia, I shrug and try to stand, allowing her to begrudgingly move her legs before I’m capable of rising. My legs feel tingly as I walk to the door, the thought to check the peephole or stick my foot in the way of the door not crossing my mind as I broadly swing it open.

I’m not sure what or who I was expecting at the door, but a water-logged purple triceratops girl was not it. She lifts her head, staring up at me wearily. Her hoodie was a shade darker, water dripping off the article’s hem. I blink a couple times, making sure she was in fact real- before she clears her throat. “Hey.”

Finding the words, I stutter. “T-Trish?”

“You know anyone else with this hoodie and these boots? Why’re you looking at me like that?” She reaches up and drops her hood down, revealing her frazzled hair- probably due to the rain she trudged through all the way from the rough part of town. 

“I- just, uh. What are you doing here?” Fabric rustles from across the room, briefly catching Trish’s eye.

“You said you were just watching TV, I was..lonely- all my friends were busy. And I just wasn’t feeling too good. Needed to..” She looks off to the side. “Be around someone.”

“Well-” She cuts me off, stepping forward and turning her head to the side- pressing it against my chest as her arms wrap around my back. She’s hugging me. I almost flinch at the top-down sight of her horns, but the overwhelming anxiety of a girl hugging me knocks the instinct right out of my head. Oh God. Oh crap.

Oh fuck, Trish is hugging me.

Forgiving myself for the language, my arms remain raised as the hug drags on for way too long- before she finally lets me go and slides under my arm and into my house. Olivia- OLIVIA!

“Trish-” I reach out to stop her, before she pauses and makes eye contact with the utterly baffled baryonyx.

“Oh. You didn’t tell me you had company.” She looks back at me, then at Olivia- who’s snout is hanging open.

“Who the hell are you?” Olivia starts, fully sitting up on her knees and turning to face Trish.

“Trish. Patricia, technically, but..” I can only watch as a bystander as the words cause a look of rage to form on the gator’s face for a second; quickly fading into dejection- glancing between us both. 

“...Oh.” Is all she can say, sinking back into the couch.

My mind races, trying to strike rationality through all the chaos. Just, collect yourself, calm down; this is fine. Olivia turns back around, sinking into the corner of the couch and pulling her phone out, the phone’s light illuminating her shadowed face. Damage control, Inco.

I shut the door and jog to the couch, leaning over the back close to ‘Liv. I get a look at her phone, she’s ordering a taxi. No, no no no. “Olivia, what’re you doing?”

“It’s uh..late. I gotta get home.” She doesn’t look at me when she speaks, her voice hushed.

“But you said-”

“I know. But that was for us. Not..her.” She finally breaks contact with her phone to look at me, an expression on her face that’ll be burned into my mind for awhile. She looks utterly betrayed, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. Her voice quivers. “Just, I’m gonna sit here till it gets here.” She grabs her blanket from the other side of the couch, bundling it in her lap.

Olivia turns away from me, huddling into the corner of the couch and presumably passing the time by scrolling on her phone. I stand up from the couch, not having the heart to push on her further. Turning to Trish, she’s taken to sitting at one of the stools in the kitchen, tugging on the bottom of her hoodie and examining my house.

I approach her, and she cuts me off before I can ask her anything. “Okay, yes. Bad time- I know. But you didn’t tell me anyone was with you.” Her voice is equally lowered, looking past me again at the sulking girl on my couch.

“It’s...” I sigh, it wasn’t okay but it wasn’t really her fault either. I can’t think of anything else to say to her, torn between feeling angry that she showed up unannounced and ruined my time with Olivia and empathetic for the state she’s in and the day she’s had. I walk away and sit on the stairs, separating myself from the both of them.

In a shockingly small amount of time, a car horn blaring outside stirs Olivia from her stay on the couch, and she slides onto her wheelchair and rolls towards the door. I hurry off the stairs to open the door for her, and she rolls past me without a word. I have to say something to her.

“Olivia-” She cuts me off again.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Inco.” Her voice is hoarse, and she glances back at me to reveal tear-stained cheeks. Pulling her hoodie up, she rolls off towards the cab in the harsh rain and and the driver steps out to assist her with her wheelchair. All I can do is close the door, figuring better that than to stare at her like a moron. A chair squeaks, and Trish stands up off the stool.

“Sorry, dude. Didn’t think she’d take it that harshly.” I turn to look at her, and she looks guilty- and cold. Trish shivers, awkwardly pulling on different parts of her hoodie.

“So do you..uh..are you gonna...stay?” I stutter, shaken up from the turbulence of the night. This went south very quickly.

Trish scoffs. “How gentlemanly, implying I should go back out there in that.” She motions to the door. “Yeah, no thanks. I’m staying.”

I’m a little offput at her snarkiness, blinking in rapid succession. “Oh. I..okay, then. Do you wanna take that hoodie off?” Trish’s eyes go wide, like I asked if she wanted to go rob a bank or something. Squinting her eyes, she tries to speak a couple times- before finally settling on a slow nod.

I don’t get a chance to turn around before she pulls the soaked-through hoodie off, revealing a plain black tanktop underneath. She sets down the piece on the island, leaning back against it and running a hand through her hair. Stop staring, dummy. I turn away from her and head back to the couch, taking a seat and hiding my hands in my pockets. I didn’t really know what else to do.

Trish had followed me, taking a seat on the couch about a cushion’s space away where Olivia once was. She looks around the room one more time before talking. “You got a pretty nice place- guessed that from the photos you sent me, but it’s better in-person.”

“Thanks.” I consider asking how she found my address, but I remember my house number was easily visible in the images I sent, it wouldn’t be that hard to find it from there. And, my family had purchased a placard with our last name on it to stick on our mailbox. ‘Nito’ in big and bold engraved lettering, probably not the best idea to send pictures like that to..

I guess she’s not a stranger, but- still. Trish looks up to the TV, studying it for a moment before looking to the ground and leaning back against the couch. “So, you watch this stuff? Anime?”

I perk up. “Oh- uh, yeah. Kind of, my friend has been getting me into it.” Was getting me into it.

She blinks, doing that cycling-through-emotions glitch she does before nodding. “Yeah, that’s cool. Not really my thing anymore-” She stops herself, twitching her head to the side as if she made a mistake.

“Anymore?” I lean forward, extending my fingers on each hand and tapping the ends together. 

“Uh. No, I mean- Kind of. Back in uh..” She hesitates, avoiding eye contact. “Back in middleschool I was..super into it. Big time.” She brings her arms down from the back cushions, crossing them over each other.

“I never really got into it until Olivia showed me. It’s pretty neat.”

“Who’s Olivia? Girl in the wheelchair?” She nods to the door.

Frowning, I nod my head without a word.

“Yikes.” Trish scratches the back of her crest. “Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. She’s kind of..” Oh, good going, Inco. Now you have to tell your friend about how your other friend gets jumpy when she’s brought up. “I don’t think she likes you.” What am I even doing?

Trish chuckles. “That’s weird, I haven’t even met her. Whatever, don’t need to win every battle.” She mutters something under her breath, I didn’t get a chance to catch what it was.

“I guess.” I bring my legs up onto the couch, too conflicted to make any rational thoughts. 

“Hey- about your photos.” She looks to the side again, and I turn to face her. “Would you- do you wanna show me some more?” She flashes a genuine grin, leaving me flustered. I don’t think I’ve seen her fully smile before.

“Sure! Let me pull up my favorites.” Grabbing my phone out of my pocket, I turn it on and scroll to my gallery; where my best work is kept. I sort by oldest for dramatic effect and lean over the couch, handing her the phone. “Here.”

She scoots closer to me, slowly flicking through the camera roll. I go into detail about the ones she seems to focus on- where I took them, what inspired me to do it- stuff like that. Trish stops towards the end, seeing the image I took of..Naser, I think it was? She groans, throwing her head back into the couch.

“What’s the matter?”

“This fuckin’ guy and his girlfriend. Bitchy as all hell about the band and Fang, and he just fuckin’ sits there. He’s their brother, for fucks sake. And he doesn’t try to curb her at all.” I stay quiet, letting her vent. Seems like she needs this. 

Trish clenches a fist, continuing on. “And, even better when I get home, it’s like my entire family is dedicated to make my day even more miserable. Fighting, screaming, non-fucking-stop- feels like living in an insane asylum.” She throws her arms out, sinking herself further into the cushions.

I tip-toe with my words, careful not to press the wrong buttons. “Is your family usually that chaotic?”

“Oh, yeah. Insanity eighty percent of the time, but today was especially shitty. Can’t wait to ditch that shithole and get it big.” She looks guilty after saying that, probably not meaning to insult her family like that. Trish’s face dawns a pensive expression, guilt in her eyes.

Simply nodding, I hold my hand out for my phone back. She hands it back to me and I lean back with her, settling back into the couch. I can’t really imagine being around that many people that often, not like she’s told me exactly how many siblings or family members she has- but, from what I understand her family is huge.

It was difficult imagining what it was like, always having someone by your side that’s supposed to like you unconditionally, no matter what. Even after you argue or fight, you usually make up by the end of the day. Just constantly having a presence nearby- the concept is alien to me. I had gotten used to the loneliness that came from inhabiting each house I’ve lived in, only superficially comforted by other people outside of it or through a screen.

Yeah, sometimes people came over. But the enjoyment from hanging out feels like nothing in comparison to the constant warming reminder that a family’s just a couple rooms away, ready to talk or just keep me company. I didn’t think about this stuff often for good reason, all it did was get me down in the dumps.

“You good, dude?” Trish snaps me back to reality, and I realize I spaced out. Hard.

“Sorry, I just uh..” Don’t look like a weirdo, or sound like one. “I think sometimes, a lot. Was just thinking about how..nice, a family like that sounds. A big one.”

Trish looks at me funny, clearing her throat. “What, you don’t like having the Mcmansion here all to yourself?”

Honesty is the best policy. “No.” Except when you say it as awkwardly as possible. She pauses, the bluntness catching her off-guard. “Not really.”

“I only see my family once or twice a month, if I’m lucky.” Maybe a little too forward, but, we’re both deflating after stressful events. I’m gonna have to apologize to Olivia for this, big time. Crap.

She hesitates, giving me room to go on. “The longest times I see them each year are during holidays, and when we move houses. Sometimes I have friends over, had a sleepover once when I was nine. But, otherwise it’s..me. Alone. Each morning, each night. You’d be surprised at how clean some places stay without people in them, only need to dust once every couple months.”  I look back to her, losing my staring contest with the wall. She’s listening, having her own staring contest with the floor- only realizing I had stopped talking after a couple seconds.

“Wow. That’s rough, dude. Kind of jealous, though.” You and me both, Trish. “Sounds like some nice peace and quiet.” I nod, dejected. Venting like that brought my mood down further, which she notices.

“Hey, lemme show you something.” She pulls her phone out- a yellow-cased and cracked thing from two or three generations ago. Swiping to a music app, she clicks on an album she has favorited and puts it up on my TV. I didn’t even know you could do that, wow. Looking to the coffee table sat low in front of the couch, my popcorn bowl sat untouched.

I pick it up and set it on my legs, slowly eating individual pieces as Trish navigates the music app I forgot I installed; hitting the play button on the album she created labeled ‘Beats’

The grinding, underground-sounding rock music blares over my surround-sound, shaking the furniture and rattling the windows. Trish smirks, tapping her foot along to the rhythm while I sit there trying to process it all. Definitely not something I’d pick up on my own, but considering Trish runs in a rock band; it checks out she’d be into this kind of stuff. The first song came to a close, and she pauses the next one just as it begins.

“What’d you think?” She turns to me, looking smug.

Best policy. “Bit of a lot to take in, but I think I understand why you’re into it- inspiration for your band, right?” I shoot a finger-gun at her, and she looks pleased with the answer.

“Bingo. Assembled this over the years as inspiration, helped me with plenty of our songs.” She settles back down and unpauses the next song, leaving us alone with the song shaking everything in the room. Hopefully the soundproofing would hold up, it’s late- Trish seems to realize this just in time and turns it down a little. We breeze through the next couple songs, and I give my honest thoughts; none of them are up my alley, but I try to give feedback to the best of my ability with my limited music knowledge. She seems satisfied with each of my responses.

We trade a few examples of our interests, she got a taste of my Yousnoot interests and quietly watched one of my favorite content creators talk for thirty minutes about why the best way the world could end is with a giant monster. She didn’t react much to it once it was done, merely on how tired she was. Come to think of it, my eyes kind of stung too.

“So, do you-”

“Hell no, I’m not going home in this weather.” She points to one of the windows, and I turn my head at just the right time to see lightning flash in the distance- the rain pounding against the glass at a higher intensity than when Olivia left.

Okay, defensive. “I wasn’t going to ask that. I was going to ask if you wanted me to throw your hoodie in the wash.” Trish is taken aback by the offer, and looks guilty. She nods and I stand up to do just that. Truth be told, I was going to ask how she wanted to leave. But; I wasn’t gonna make her go through that even to get into a cab and drive away back to the apparent madhouse that is her home. I wasn’t gonna press on her staying the night either, I’m sure she’s got that figured out too.

Grabbing the partially dried garment, I head down the hall and chuck it into the dryer, letting it run on low heat for an hour or so before returning to the couch and sitting down. Trish has made herself comfortable in that time, laid down in the corner with her legs pulled close against her chest, scrolling on her phone. I sit on the opposite end of her, leaning my head back and staring at the ceiling. The room settles into a comfortable silence, save for the tapping of Trish’s phone.

The rain provided fantastic ambiance to get some shut-eye to, leaning my head far back into the couch and settling down into it. I guess tonight wasn’t all that bad, even if Trish’s appearance ruined my night with Olivia. It wasn’t that big of a deal, I think- I should talk to her tomorrow about showing up unannounced like that. Tomorrow, though. Eyelids feeling heavy, I lace my fingers together on my lap and close my eyes; maybe a quick power-nap until the laundry finishes and I can head up to my bed.

...

Bzzt, bzzt.

A familiar buzzing tucked away in my pocket stirs me from my nap, hidden away beneath an unusually heavy and warm weight on my entire body. Early morning sunlight beams through the window next to my head and right on my face, thankfully obscured my shades. Keeping my eyes closed, I reach, and pat the area around the source of the noise to try and dig my phone out of the fabric pit.

Pat pat, couch. Not there.

Pat pat, also couch. Too far down.

Pat pat, something firm and round- soft to the touch. I rub the back of my hand across it, unable to decipher what kind of blanket this is supposed to be- I give up on the phone and drop my hand down by my side.

The weight on my chest shifts, a grumble of displeasure humming out from near my chest. It clicks, slightly opening my eyes to see Trish laying on top of me, arms wrapped around my torso. Her head is tilted to the side,  I’m too groggy to really care, instead lowering my head back down into the arm rest and trying to go back to sleep; reveling in how warm and comfortable this particular position was.

...

Blinking my eyes, time jumps forward in an instant- the weight on my chest disappearing and birds chirping outside my window. I fully open my eyes and sit up, groaning. Man, my back kind of hurts- and I’m hot too. Tugging on my shirt collar, I rub my eyes clear of sand and throw a leg out, standing up and stretching. I think that nap I took turned into a full night’s rest. Kind of early, too. Got up way ahead of my alarm.

Lumbering towards the kitchen for the morning ritual of a glass of milk, my memory comes back to me. Olivia showed up, watched anime- then left after Trish showed up, and we talked. I frown, thinking of how hurt ‘Liv must have been. I’ll make it up to her at some point, promise. Then I fell asleep and..

I nearly drop the glass in realization, the foggy memory gaining striking clarity and crashing down on me like a bomb.

Trish was sleeping on my couch- on ME.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

The train car rattles after rolling over an errant bump on the tracks. I’m jostled out of my concentration, blinking a few times as I take in the new faces present in the car. Crap, how long has it been? I hope I didn’t miss my stop. I look back to the phone I was focused on. Trish’s contact stares back at me.

After the discovery I made last night, I didn’t have the heart to tell her good morning like I usually did. Or any of my friends for that matter-

Like Olivia.

On my way back to school after the weekend, the guilt of what I let happen at my house was hitting hard. I squeeze my phone, saving myself from the embarrassment of reading the texts I sent her this morning. I’m not even left on read, she never opened them. 

Letting out a pitiful sigh of defeat, I put my phone away and cross my arms, resting my head on the hard plastic of my chair. I spend the last portion of travel time left organizing my thoughts, quickly settling on a plan for the day. What’s the best way to make it up to someone you’ve wronged? You talk through your problems; easy, right? 

That is... assuming Olivia’ll even want to talk to me. I could invite her to eat with me outside- if the weather holds up. If she’ll even give me the time of day.

The train car comes to a halt, an automated voice poorly pronounces the name of the street leading up to St. Hammond as the doors slide open. I heave my bag over my shoulders, it feels heavier than normal today- I’m gonna chalk that up to my body playing tricks on me. Just get to school.

I wasn’t usually the type to call attending class a snoozefest, but I had too much on my mind today; particularly the depressed looking gator girl occupying my peripheral vision during most of them. It was like I time-traveled back to my first day here, but even back then she still paid attention to the teachers. Every glance I threw her way returned the same result, a melancholic Olivia staring down at the floor; tracing shapes on her desk with her claw.

Mr. Iadakan looked especially worried, but he didn’t say anything. Not until class was over, that is.

As I stood up from my chair, determined to chase down Olivia in the cafeteria with my offer to eat, Iadakan stuck an arm out and mouthed something at me just before I squeezed out the door- I wagered a guess that he was referring to Olivia.

I grin, already having beat him to the punch. I flash a thumbs-up before slinking into the hallway, my head held high. Despite my determination, I forgot to factor in the early lunch brawl taking up the entrance. I risk my life weaving through claws and spiked appendages and finally emerge into the cafeteria, thankfully unscathed.

Olivia seemed apathetic when I approached her. The willpower to address the incident draining out of me with how stand-offish she was. Nonetheless, the genuine small smile she gave me made when she accepted my offer to eat outside was heartwarming. She didn’t even protest when she wheeled out of the cafeteria and into the chilly courtyard despite how visibly uncomfortable she was.

I sag my shoulders. Our lunch was quiet, the exact opposite of what I wanted to happen. All that gusto about how I was going to make up for the incident at my house fizzled away in an instant, every time I looked at her and opened my mouth- the words died in my throat when she made eye contact.

I have to try something. “So, how about this weather?”

Olivia pauses the game of whack-a-mole she was playing with the chicken chunks in her salad, looking up at me with distaste. “Seriously?”

...Yeah, good one. I’m so stupid. “I’m sorry.” 

She sighs, planting her snout into her palm. “It’s okay, Inco. Weather is fine, just not built for the cold.” I think that’s the most dry response she’s given me yet, ouch.

The table went back to being quiet, the pit in my stomach growing wider and wider. I really need to start bringing proper bagged lunches over, subsisting entirely off of vending machine loot is a poor idea- the hunger pains aren’t helping clear my head. I can’t just fumble my way into talking about the other day, Olivia would just brush me off again- nothing would change.

I guess I could try to... ease into it. Ask about something unrelated, transition to what I want to talk about. That sounds like something that someone with people skills would do.

“Do you have any plans for after school? Like, work?”

It’s something I haven’t thought about in awhile, haven’t had the time to ponder my future when there’s so much going on in the present. However, I don’t know what Olivia wants to do for herself. There’s a moment of silence once I ask the question, and she genuinely thinks about it. Her expression softening from annoyance to consideration.

Before she can get the chance to speak, a shadow sweeps over the table, blotting out the sun. It’s followed by a familiar deep voice.

“Ah, Mr. Nito- Ms. Halford. It is nice seeing you two enjoying some time outdoors.” Olivia and I trade the briefest of glances, before shifting to face the two newcomers. A proud looking Principal Scaler, and an equally as happy leviathan in formal attire by her side. I guess Mr. Ferris is still doing that inspection. “Do you two believe could answer a few questions for me?”

He taps his pen against a clipboard held entirely within his palm, it looks undersized in his grip. Olivia just scoffs; leaving me up first. “I-I... uh- yeah?”

Mr. Ferris gives me a look, raising an eyebrow. “Very well. Mr. Nito, how would you describe your experience at St. Hammond since your transfer?”

Interview time. Get your brain in gear, Inco. “Uh- well, compared to the other schools I’ve been to, this has been on the better side. Teachers are nice, I’ve made some good friends-” I glance across the table to a now pissed-off baryonyx, gritting my teeth anxiously.

“-And... uh.” I trail off, shamefully diverting my gaze to the table. Any other situation, and I probably could have belted out a whole speech about how good this place has been to me. Just, not today.

Scaler audibly gulps, reaching up and adjusting her shirt collar. Mr. Ferris seems reticent, nodding his head and scribbling something down onto his clipboard. “Now, Ms... Halford, was it? How about you?”

Olivia looks off to the cafeteria doors, her frown transforming into a full-on glower. She huffs, before quickly turning to face the whale with a sharp temper.

“Could use some more handicap access ramps. The elevator is busted, too. Get trapped in there every once in awhile.” She takes a breath before continuing her tirade.

“The P.E teacher steals student’s hats and hoards them in the equipment shed, and he coordinates with the history teacher to hit disobedient students with dodgeballs.” Olivia starts getting angry, squeezing her chair’s armrests.

“There’s a major bullying problem you haven’t addressed, and half the time nobody can get their lunch because of the fucking brawl that happens in the cafeteria every day!” Her tone rose consistently throughout the rant, practically shouting by the time she stopped. My mouth was wide open, where did- where did this come from?!

She speaks up again after a moment, quieter. “And because of how cheap you are, Mr. Iadakan has to pay for basically all of the art supplies himself.” With that, she’s finally done.

You could practically hear the glass shattering sound effect as Principal Scaler’s eyes go wide, her face completely flushed red. I try to damage control, quickly babbling out an apology on Olivia’s behalf.

“I’m- I’m sorry, she’s- uh...” I glance at her, being met with a dirty look.

“I’m what, Inco? Tired of this place’s shit?” She leans forward, pointing at me. “You’re exactly right, I am.”

Mr. Ferris speaks, louder than I’ve ever heard him before- it was a jarring experience coming from an absolute unit like him. “That’s quite enough, Ms. Halford.”

Olivia snaps her jaw shut, retreating into her chair and tugging her hoodie over her head.

“Colorful language aside, those are all valid issues Ms. Halford has pointed out.” He turns to the principal, who’s in shambles. “It would appear there are still problems left over from the previous administration, which is a disappointment- to say the least.” After a few seconds of quick writing, he clicks his pen shut and tucks it into his breast pocket.

“You are handling all of this, yes, Principal Scaler?”

I feel awful seeing Scaler get put on the backfoot like this, but I couldn’t do anything to help- merely watch as she tries to pick up the pieces. “Y-Yes, I uhm- I’ve sent in a request for the elevator to be investigated by a technician.”

“I’ll have a talk with the superintendent about that next time I’m at the office.” Mr. Ferris shifts to face me, bringing his clipboard up to his chest. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Nito.” He shoots a side-eye at Olivia. “And Ms. Halford.”

Olivia grunts, focused on something off in the distance.

Principal Scaler clears her throat, stepping in front of the whale. “That’s all well and good then- er- how about we discuss the rest of these matters over a cup of coffee in the teacher’s lounge?” She motions to the school, grinning nervously.

“That sounds splendid, Ms. Scaler.” That seemed to ease the tension between the two, Mr. Ferris takes his leave- dragging an absolutely miserable principal along with him. Ouch.

As the officials leave the table, I don’t have the heart to ask Olivia what that was all about- where that anger came from. Maybe she just wanted to get it off her chest; but why now? Why blow up at Scaler like that?

I think this operation was a resounding failure, stupid workplace drama killed the mood. Maybe I could talk to Damien, ask for his help. Does he even know about what happened that night? Did Olivia tell him?

I wouldn’t expect her to-

“I was thinking about getting an art degree.”

The table goes quiet, save for the whistle of wind. Olivia sits up in her chair, pulling her hoodie down to reveal a look full of regret. A breeze catches her hair and momentarily obscures her eyes. Another split-second moment worthy of being immortalized by a photo slips out of my grasp, and I curse myself for neglecting to bring it with me today.

I would probably look like an idiot if I had it constantly raised and ready. But, I should still say something- it’s been about ten seconds of complete silence between us, and I couldn’t afford to gawk any longer.

“Oh, really?” I raise an eyebrow- it seems obvious in hindsight, I guess most artists would shoot for something like that, but I didn’t make the connection.

“Online art degree. Don’t really have any other options, art’s the only class I’m even passing in.” ‘Liv leans forward, brushing her empty salad container aside and resting her head atop her arms. “Only part of me that’s worth anything is my art.”

She sounds like she’s given up, completely resigned about her future. I try my best to stammer out a response after a delay. “W-well, I don’t think so. You’re worth plenty to me.”

Olivia leers at me, sharply huffing instead of giving a proper answer; the conversation going back to square one. Hostile silence.

The morose mood continued for the rest of our time at the table, even after the bell rang minutes later. My half-hearted offer to push her to history was met with another exhale and side-eye glance, leading us to awkwardly walk- or, roll in her case- alongside each other to class. I felt conflicted- unsure if her apathy was from something I said or if it was something she said. I wanted to try and talk to her, but...

I steal another look at Olivia as we slowly traverse the emptying halls, she’s lost in thought. Staring straight ahead, eyes transfixed on something in the distance- only broken by the occasional glance down to her wheels. Was that why she wasn’t talking? Thinking about herself? I wouldn’t put intentionally snubbing me out of the question, wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened today- but, I’m still curious.

Olivia seems a lot less... sure about her future. I may not know what’s coming up next, but I’m not terrified of what could happen. I look forward to it more often than not. But I haven’t really thought about what I’m going to do; about my plans. Liz has an entire timetable for her future, and all I have in mind is I figured I’d go to college at some point. 

It’s so  simple in comparison- so basic. I don’t want to sit and just go with the flow- nor do I want to mope and waste time stressing over the ‘what ifs’. But the more I think about planning the future the more anxious I get. It feels like I’m inviting something bad to happen, for a wrench to be thrown into the gears.

Agh, I don’t know. That’s the tried and true response to any of my problems, being unsure.

An errant squeak against the tile alerts us both to a presence behind us, our reactions being far too late to stop the assailant before they’re already upon us. A begrudgingly familiar sickly-sweet voice calls out from over my shoulder. “Heeeeyy, if it isn’t the one and only!”

“Well, one and only plus... you.” Quickly turning to face the crimson-scaled parasaur, I almost wince as Mia cozies right on up next to her, placing herself between us. Olivia brings her hands into her lap and nervously stiffens up.

“How are my two favorite background characters? Good? Glad to hear, swell, even!” Mia widens the gap further, lifting her tail in my direction. I take a few cautious steps back, not keen on having the improvised weapon catch on any of my clothes. “Humor me, ‘Livvy. Got  a checklist to run by ‘ya, just a few questions.”

With a strained expression and shaky hands, Olivia turns her chair around to face Mia. She sounds exasperated. "What now?”

“Oh, just a little one-on-one. Chit-chat, small talk.”  She snakes around to the side of ‘Liv’s wheelchair, grabbing onto the handles. “Think ol’ cueball here will mind if we take five?”

“Wh- yes!? You’re not taking her anywhere.” I move towards her, balling my fists up in my best attempt to be threatening.

“Pfft, please. I’m not taking her anywhere. We are going to have a little one-on-one. Isn’t that right, Olivia?” 

Olivia doesn’t answer, simply hanging her head and letting out a quiet whimper of misery. The sound breaks my heart. Anger boils up inside of me, and I risk one more step towards Mia. “She doesn’t want to come with you.”

“Says who? Tell the boytoy, ‘Livia.” Dozens of ways to wipe that smug look off of her face blitz through my head, the storm of ideas coming to an abrupt halt as Olivia mutters the last thing I wanted her to say.

“...s’fine, Inco.”

“See? All good- now, buzz off.” With a dismissive shooing motion and a nasty side-eye, Mia takes hold of the wheelchair and walks away- whisking the downcast gator away to parts unknown. My brain is rioting, screaming for my legs to move, but I remain frozen. I try to take slow and deep breathes to calm down. Listen to your better judgement, Inco. Just relax, Olivia will be fine. Mia isn’t... she wouldn’t hurt her. No.

I flex my hands a couple times; advice I recalled from a Tabblet comment thread. Surprisingly, it kind of worked- at least for the short term. It was enough to give my brain space to think rationally. Olivia’s going to be fine, I’m overreacting. The tardy bell going off further reinforces that thought, and I jog to history class.

Everything is somehow both a blur and sluggish at the same time. Ms. Prockling’s droning about some ancient civilization’s battle tactics were drowned out by the rumbling in my ears and the tapping on my desk, I couldn’t focus- I was too worried.

If I wasn’t staring at the timepiece hung on the wall, my eyes were darting between the empty desk where Olivia usually sat and the door. She’d come in at any minute- take her seat and apologize for being late, everything would be fine. Any minute now. Anxiety gnaws at my being, worst-case-scenarios popping up in my head as fast as they were being replaced by equally as awful thoughts. I couldn’t help but shuffle around in my seat, like I was sat upon a bed of nails.

God, what is wrong with me? What was I thinking letting that... letting Mia take her? I should’ve stood up, I should have...

It’s not too late, I can fix this. I need to be there for her. My body acts before my brain, my hand shooting up into the air just as Ms. Prockling turns to face the class.

“Yes, Mr. Nito?”  She sighs, sounding disappointed.

“Can I-” My voice cracks, and I swallow to moisten up my dry throat. “Can I be excused?”

Ms. Prockling is further displeased with my interruption. “Why? Class just started not... five minutes ago.”

Crap. I don’t have an excuse- think of something, Inco. Come on...

“I... have... sperm cramps.”

“...What?” Ms. Prockling squints at me, both of us taken aback by the absurdity of what I just said. Roll with it.

“Sperm cramps. Gotta go.” Before she can object, I quickly scoot my chair back and jump up, sprinting for the door and dramatically swinging it open.

“Mr. Nit-” I slam the door shut in the middle of her sentence. Cramming my hands down as deep as they can go into my pockets and leaning forward, I walk down the hallway in... a direction. The realization dawns on me as I turn the corner away from class- I didn’t actually know where the two went.

Raising my head from the floor after blindly charging forward, the school is empty- class hours. I half-expected to see a scrap of paper or tumbleweed to blow by in the wind. Raptor Jesus, I might be in over my head. No, focus. Come on, Inco. Think! If I was a heartless bastard like Mia, where would I harass someone in private?

I feel like I’m wandering in circles. This is the second time I’ve passed by a set of motivational cat posters. I need to calm down, I don’t even remember what part of the building I’m in. Okay, okay. Just- focus. Calm down. Approaching a nearby water fountain, I pause to wipe the sweat off of my brow.

Lowering my head down to the spout, I can only imagine myself as a conquistador after finding the fountain of youth. Despite how metallic-tasting the water was, I couldn’t stop myself from drinking until I lost my breath. Very few things hit as hard as low-quality water in a time of need like this.

Closing my eyes, I raise up from the fountain after I’ve had my fix and pant, wiping my mouth with that same sweat-stained sleeve- eugh. Just as I lower my arm and go to continue walking, a familiar sound graces my ears. The signature squeak of a wheelchair. Olivia. Whipping my head left and right, I pinpoint the direction it’s coming from and nearly trip over my own feet in my scramble to move towards it. It was coming from a door just down the hallway, adorned in algebra-related decorations.

I stop just as I grab the handle, hesitating. The moment of silence allows me to hear bits and pieces of the conversation taking place on the other side of the door.

“-looks like shit, how am I-”

“-should be happy it’s done-”

Recognizing the voices, confidence surges through me- and I haphazardly push the door handle down and swing it open. 

Instantly, the room goes deathly still, save for the rapid head turns from the two girls I was looking for. We’re all stunned. Mia in particular seems more infuriated than shocked. I probably should have thought this through just a little bit before throwing myself head-first into the jaws of an irate parasaur. Oops.

The two speak over each other, Olivia being too quiet for me to hear. She looks relieved, though.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Mia hisses, balling her fists up.

I stutter, really feeling out how little I thought ahead. “Uhm- uh...” She puts a hand up, cutting me off.

“Shut the fuck up- I don’t care. Get outta here, skinnie. Not now.”

Olivia rolls forward a few inches, baring her teeth. “Don’t talk to him like that!”

“Oh yeah? Or what- gonna roll over my toes?” Mia turns away from me, leaning forward and poking Olivia in the chest with her finger. “I told you not to be followed!”

She bats the parasaur’s hand away, wincing. “I wasn’t! This is on you- you’re screaming your head off!”

I lose track of the argument. They’re talking over each other, and what little meaningful discussion is had devolves into insults and accusations. I need to get to the bottom of this. Thankfully, at the very least Olivia isn’t hurt- but what the hell are they doing in here?

“Hey!”

My attempt was too quiet, they’re practically shouting at each other. Screw it, two... three? I can play that game too. I look to a nearby desk, approaching it as the screaming match increases in volume.

“HEY!” 

I accentuate the shout by slamming my open palm on the desk, loudly interrupting the two bickering dinosaurs. Capitalizing on the sudden silence, I speak with my inside voice, fearful of any faculty members that might come and investigate all the noise. “Why are you two in an empty classroom yelling at each other?”

They both quiet down. Mia’s eyes are darting all over the room- and Olivia resigns herself to silence, hanging her head and looking miserable. Mia’s arm shifts, and I notice a piece of paper crushed in her hand, something drawn on it. She leaves it exposed just long enough for me to get a good look at it, the piece looking... familiar. That’s one of ‘Liv’s drawings!

“What’s that in your hand?” I point at the paper being strangled in her grip, and Mia panics; cramming the artpiece into her jacket.

“N-nothing, mind your own.” That’s the first time I’ve ever heard her stutter- what the hell is going on here? Before I can prod any further, Olivia speaks up with a scratchy voice.

“Inco, what are you doing here?”

“You were in trouble. Mia just- dragged you away to God knows where, and made you abandon class!” I throw my arms up, eliciting a scoff from the blood-red witch.

“Puh-lease. Missing class is the least of her- of our worries.”

I wish she’d shut up. “What do you mean by that?” Olivia freezes, claws digging into the armrests of her chair.

“Fuck me- I’m not explaining this. Handbag, spill it.”

We both look at her expectantly, but she averts her gaze to the floor. She’s breathing so loud, I can hear her from all the way over here.

“Hey, jackass.” Mia snaps her fingers twice, waving her hand around in Olivia’s face. “What’s the matter with you?”

Olivia looks up, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. The visage causes my heart to sink.

“Why are you crying? Are-” Mia gasps, letting out a malicious chuckle. “No fucking way. Are you afraid to tell him?” She crouches down to eye-level with Olivia, putting her hands on her knees. Her tail sweeps side to side, like a lioness getting ready to pounce.

“Shut- shut up.” Olivia hiccups, barely able to get the words out.

Mia laughs, abruptly cutting herself off. “Precious. Alright, fine.” She swivels to me, the look of absolute malice on her face enough to make my blood run cold. Goosebumps run up my arms, a full-body shiver following shortly afterward.

“I know all about what the crippled one-trick-gator over here did; does ‘yearbook art contest’ ring a bell, baldie?” She slowly began to pace around me, crossing her wrists behind her back- each step being painfully measured from heel to toe and ending in a tap that reminded me of a doomsday clock.

“I wouldn’t give a shit in any other situation, but I couldn’t just let her pull this off. Why should she just- get away with some crazy stunt like that? No consequences at all?” Mia threw her arms up, turning on her heels to face Olivia again. “Bullshit!”

“So, I took advantage of it. Struck up a deal- just a little something to help each other out. After all, if the school found out about what she pulled, she’d be done for. A wheelchair-bound chump is unemployable enough, imagine if they saw ‘fraud’ on her record too.”

Mia stops, ever so slightly tilting forward at me, expecting a response. All I can do is stutter and mumble nonsense under my breath, the gravity of the situation making my knees weak. She rolls her eyes and continues. “In fact, probably yours too! You’re both fucked if this gets out.”

She pauses again, giving me another chance to muster up what little willpower I have left and speak- albeit nervously. “Wh-whats in it for you?”

“Easy! Olivia helps me and my pals out with some gay little group projects, and I sweep this whole incident under the rug- no big deal.” Mia crosses her arms, reaching punchable levels of smugness.

“But- but that’s blackmail- and cheating! That’s wrong!” I cast my arms out, trying to reason with her. She’s almost completed a full loop around the room at this point.

Mia snorts- quickly breaking down into a fit of hyena-esque cackling that crushes my spirits. She keels over, pointing and laughing. She finally straightens back up after successfully making a mockery of me, grinning madly. “Oh... Oh man, you’re a riot. Dumb as a box of rocks, but, you’re funny.”

“Why the hell are you so mean!?” I shout, stepping up to her with newfound aggression.

Mia scowls, and rolls her eyes. “First off, pipe down, tough guy.” She presses her finger into my chest, her bladed tail swinging up into my field of vision- that belligerent fire being snuffed out as the light catches on one of the sharpened plates.

“Second, why the fuck are you so dense? All that headspace and half of it is filled with fluid like a fuckin’ koala.”

Raptor Jesus, this is fucked up. I rack my brain for anything I could do to get Olivia out of this- some trick I could pull- anything I have up my sleeve. But, I draw a blank. Mia has every advantage here. That’s the funny thing about blackmail, it’s foolproof unless you don’t care to begin with. The room is quiet again, save for one small sound that aches my heart.

Crying.

Looking past Mia, Olivia is sunk as far back into her chair as she can manage, weeping into her palms. The sight is heartbreaking. I’ve only ever seen her cry like this once before- in the rain, after the incident that brought her here to begin with. Pity slowly starts to boil over into anger, and I find myself clenching my fists.

“Look- would you just, let me talk this over with Olivia? Alone?” I turn to Mia, who’s transitioned to sitting on a nearby desk. She looks up from examining her nails, scoffing.

“Uh- why? There’s nothing to discuss. You keep your mouth shut, and crybaby gets to have a future. Pretty simple.”

I need to think of a reason to get the crested bitch out of here.

“It’s- just, about... about my involvement in this. Just, please. I- we need to think this over.” I look to Olivia for support, only to see her in the same inconsolable state that she was in previously.

Mia clicks her tongue, tilting her head side-to-side. She glances over at the sobbing wreck of a baryonyx, and I could swear I saw the faintest hint of regret flash in her eyes before she let out a groan. “Fuckin’... fine. Fine! I’ll leave you two alone.” She stands up from the desk, bumping her shoulder into me as she makes her way to the door.

Relief washes over me, but I don’t feel her presence leave the room. Before I can look for myself, a firm clawed hand plants itself on my shoulder, forcefully spinning me around. I’m met with an ominous up-close view of Mia, staring daggers right into my soul. “Make the right choice, baldie. Don’t think I’m being soft on you.”

She pushes me away and turns for the door, outstretching a hand and pushing it open before slinking out of view. My hands are shaking, curled up into fists- but my legs don’t feel as weak as before. I’m more infuriated than I am afraid. I look down at my hands and find my knuckles white from the pressure I was applying on them.

Fuck.

“Y-you didn’t need to do that.”

Olivia’s hoarse voice brings me back to reality. I look over my shoulder, only to see that she looks like a train wreck. She wipes her sleeves over her cheeks, further adding to the damp spots on the ends. I slowly approach her, simply quietly standing by her side as she collects the strength to speak again.

“I had it handled, everything was- it was fine. You didn’t need to get involved.” It sounds difficult for her to get the words, and I consider cutting the conversation short to leave and get her some water.

“I didn’t- what if she hurt you?” The bold thought escapes my mouth before I can do so.

“I would- I am fine, Inco.” Olivia tries to cross her arms, only to grunt in pain as she bends her wrists. Why is...?

“What’s wrong with your hands?” I crouch down, sounding like a worried parent. She tries to hide her hands in her sleeves.

“Nothing, they’re fine.” Spoken too quickly.

“Olivia, are you okay? She didn’t hurt you did she?” Oh, God. I was right, Mia did something. That fuck-

She raises her voice, derailing my train of thought. “I’m fine! I’ve just had to put... a lot of work in. Drawing her stupid group projects.”

...Oh.

I hold my hand out. “Let me see.” 

I wasn’t sure what exactly I could do, but- I wanted to see. Can scales bruise? Are- could they be broken? Olivia hesitates, but relents- removing her hands from her pockets and gently placing them on my palm. Thankfully, I can’t see any visible damage- at least on the outside. That was a relief. Gently rubbing my thumb across a joint in her hand, she winces; but doesn’t pull away.

“This is crazy, Olivia. We can’t just let her do this to you, we need to tell someone- why don’t we just tell Mr. Iadakan?”

Her eyes go wide, panic settling into her scratchy voice.

“God- Inco, no! Fuck, you heard her- I’ll be fucking ruined! Everything she said was-” Olivia chokes, letting out another sob. Clenching a fist, she smashes it into her armrest, letting out a yelp of instant regret. “She can’t- I-” She breaks down into incoherence, trembling like a leaf in the wind.

I find it difficult to keep the waterworks back myself. Seeing her like this causes the corners of my vision to blur up with tears. Damnit- no. Letting go of her hands, I reach out and gently wrap my arms around her, raising up slightly to pull her into a hug. She freezes, her sobs ceasing.

“Listen to me. You’re gonna be okay, we’re gonna figure this out. We’re- It’ll be alright. I promise.” I almost manage to scrape by without hiccuping, tears freely falling down my face by the time I finish talking. The gesture seems to get through to her, and she buries her head into my shoulder. Her quiet sobs turn into muffled wails.

Olivia remains limp, weakly crying into my jacket. I don’t move or speak, content with being a literal shoulder to cry on. That weather from earlier today has only gotten worse, rain tapping against the windows of the almost pitch-black classroom in chaotic patterns. I wasn’t sure how long it lasted, but her crying came to a stop at some point, and I finally let her go. I had the time to calm down myself as well.

Slowly, we pull away from each other. She seems hesitant to release me, only letting go after another tight hug. I stand and stretch, delighting in the pops coming from my lower back.

I look back on what’s happened with a clear head. I cant let Mia get away with this- but admittedly, she was right. Both Olivia and I would be screwed if the incident with the art contest came out, even if I didn’t blame her for it. The only out I can think of is telling a teacher, or anyone with authority of that level. Mr. Iadakan... he’ll understand. I’m confident.

Taking a seat on a nearby desk, I roll my shoulders, trying to mentally prepare myself for however she might react. “Olivia, you need to hear me out on this.”

The look on her face makes me fearful of another outburst. I’m not sure what’d be worse at this point, more crying or bared teeth. “Mr. Iadakan can help.”

To my relief, her expression softens. Albeit, still retaining that look of defeat.

“I’m scared, Inco. He could... he could hate me. I could lose him.” Olivia doesn’t sound like she has the energy to cry or shout anymore, her voice would’ve been impossible to hear if the room wasn’t as quiet as it was. “How can- how can I trust you?” 

The question strikes me hard, painfully digging up memories of the incident at my house with Trish. I had nearly forgotten about it, and I felt terrible for not trying to reconcile with her earlier. “You... don’t have to trust me.”

Pausing with an anxious swallow, I realized how dry my throat was again. But, I pressed on. “You just have to trust Iadakan. Why would he have any reason to throw you under the bus like that?”

Olivia contemplates, eyes searching my face- then darting away to the side towards the windows. Finally, after a moment, her vision comes to rest on the floor. She awkwardly fumbles with her hands, pressing on various pressure points in her joints. Taking a deep breath in and out, I slide off from the desk.

“You’re not alone, Olivia. I’m so sorry if I made you feel that way these past few days. I never meant for... anything like that to happen, and I’m sorry that I didn’t try to make it right sooner.” She looks up from the floor, meeting my eyes with resignation.

“I’m here for you, and Iadakan will be too.”

Her face contorts into another distraught expression, a whimper breaking through her tightly shut mouth. I’m caught off guard by Olivia lunging forward- falling out of her wheelchair and grappling with me. She throws her arms around my waist and presses her head into my stomach, shuddering. She tries to speak- but it falls through into what I can only describe as a drawn-out wail.

Despite how trapped my arms were, I manage to return the embrace; gently stroking the top of her head for a moment before she tugs me to the floor and cradles her head into my neck in a more traditional hug. Olivia shifts her arms, wrapping them fully around my neck and sliding out of her wheelchair- dragging us both down to the ground. Her tail coils around my leg, leaving us tangled together on the floor.

She’s... surprisingly warm. This was nice.

We stay there like that for another indeterminate amount of time, before I finally attempt to scoot away, being stopped by a grumble and a tighter hold on my neck. A handful of thoughts about what exactly this looks like to an outsider- two teenagers wrapped around each other on the floor- surface in my mind. I stuff them back down, now was not the time.

“Olivia, I can’t feel my leg.”

“...Fine. You’re lucky, this time.” She finally releases me, allowing me to shimmy away and stand up. Closing my eyes, I lift my glasses and wipe the partially dried tears off my face, sniffling. That was comforting. I liked that.

“You gonna leave me on the floor?” Looking down, Olivia looks back at me with a smirk- crap.

“Sorry, sorry.” Bending over, I let her use me as a boost, lifting her back into her chair. She was able to pull most of the weight- I think she just wanted to hug me again. Once she’s settled, I pull my phone out of my pocket and check the time. Twenty minutes before the school day is over. If we’re lucky, Mr. Iadakan should have a free period around now.

“You alright?” I ask, pocketing my phone and walking around her to take the reins of her chair.

“Better.” Olivia pauses, craning her neck back and looking up at me with tired silver eyes. “...Thanks.”

I smile, patting her on the shoulder. “Any time.” She grins in kind, the tip of her tail coming up and gently coiling around my wrist.

With that, we were off. The door opened outward into an empty hallway, and we make for the art room. I tried to keep our pace quick, wanting to catch our teacher before he leaves the building. Man, today has been a lot.

Sharply exhaling through my nose, I daydream about how good it’s gonna feel to sink into my couch and take a massive nap, maybe tear into a frozen pizza or something. I can only imagine Olivia is just as relieved as I am, we’ve both had enough chaos for the next month. Maybe I can make it up to her, take her out to the movies or something? That’d be nice.

After a few minutes of peaceful, quiet walking- save for the squeak of her wheelchair and my shoes against the floor- we arrive at the elevator. Colorful artpieces adorn the frame of the lift, some a little more... crude than others, but most of them are pretty good works. Olivia sits up, sticking her key into the mechanism and summoning the elevator to our floor.

One final delay later, the rickety metal doors slide open to reveal the cramped compartment with a loud ‘Ding!’

...

Huh.

A loud... oh. Oh no.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up, a sudden icy breeze sweeping through the hallway- a primal feeling of fear that both Olivia and I visibly react to. Goosebumps riddle my arms again, as the gator girl in front of me retracts into her hoodie, shuddering. Maybe it was just a false alarm, Maybe-

“The fuck do you two think you’re going?”

As fast as I can physically manage, I twirl around to face the irritated parasaur- the color draining from my face. She has a stack of papers tucked under her arm, her tail swaying up in the air behind her like a metronome. I don’t know how she managed to get this close, but she’s merely inches away. “Woooow.”

“Bold move, you skinnie fuck. Lie to my face- bail out and snitch when you get the chance?” Mia crushes the papers, gritting her teeth and lowering herself to my level. She brings her other hand up, roughly seizing me by the shirt collar.

“Good job, retard. You just signed this crippled whore’s death warrant.”

Something snaps inside me, a white-hot rage like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. Keeping my composure just long enough, I do a double-take off towards the stairs in the direction we came from. 

“O-oh! Good evening, Mr. Iadakan!” I put on a sheepish grin, keeping my head turned right but my eyes laser-focused on Mia. Just as expected, her expression drops- and she releases my shirt as fast as she whips her head around.

Swinging my leg back, I kick Olivia’s wheelchair into the elevator, the abrupt clank interrupting Mia’s focus on the stairs. Outstretching my left arm, I smack my hand against the panel where the keyhole is, pulling it free and tossing it into the elevator compartment. I hear it bounce off the back of the chair and onto the floor.

“INCO!?” Olivia shouts, right as the doors close.

Finally allowing my rage to take the wheel, I clench my hand into a fist and squeeze my eyes shut. Swinging my arm upwards, I blindly sucker-punch Mia right in the crest.

“The fuc-” 

Mia screeches the moment after my fist makes contact- my ears left ringing from the ear-piercing noise. I can already feel the ripped skin on my knuckles, jolts of stinging pain shooting up through my arm. My heart is hammering against my ribcage, my breathing is staggered- Raptor Jesus, I think that was the first punch I’ve ever thrown.

Opening my eyes, the first thing I see is Mia hunched over, holding onto the sides of her head in pain. As the ringing in my ears subsides, I can faintly hear Olivia shouting through the door, hopefully about to start her descent.

“INCO! WHAT THE FUCK!?”

“GHRGHH-” Mia starts stumbling around, shaky legs barely capable of keeping herself upright. “SHITTING FUCK!"

She catches herself on the wall of lockers opposite of the elevator, leaning against them and releasing her head to claw herself up out of her crouched position. Suddenly, she snaps out of her delirium, whipping her head in my direction and snarling.

“MOTHERFUCKER!”

Mia pushes off the lockers, closing the distance in just a couple of steps and drawing a fist over her shoulder. My flight or flight response doesn’t kick in fast enough, all I can do is press myself up against the elevator and brace as-

My vision goes dark, quickly returning to me via a sudden jump-cut to a blurry and overexposed shot of the floor. Specks of black and red dot the tiles in front of my head. Before I can make any other observations, a rough object impacts me in the chest- forcing a yelp out of me. I’m completely disoriented, my head pounding and throbbing, the only distraction being another impact on my person- this time on my stomach. Oh, fuuuck- everything hurts.

There’s a stinging pain in my forehead, and I think my shades have been knocked off based on how painfully bright the floor is. I can just barely make out what’s happening around me, slowly blinking and opening my eyes just in time to see a locker get thrown to the floor. Based on the tacky jeans and boots, it’s Mia trashing the hallway.

I close my eyes again, trying to focus on one source of pain at a time, being in far too much agony to get up and run. My hearing suddenly comes back to me- albeit fuzzy.

The familiar squeak of a poorly maintained door hinge spurs me to open my eyes again, and I see a blue- or... red and yellow? figure emerge from a classroom at the end of the hall. It comes to a halt close to me, dropping what I’m guessing is a stack of papers and adding to the mess on the floor.

I can just barely make out bits and pieces of the conversation that’s had.

“...nny boy, come on! It’s not what it looks like!” 

The other figure doesn’t respond, merely moving away from the rampaging parasaur- before quickly disappearing out of view towards the stairwell. I catch Mia’s legs rush in that same direction, shouting incoherently.

“...BACK HERE!”

With that, the hallway fell silent, and I allow my strained eyes to close. I wishi that I’d wake up from whatever nightmare I was having already. Or, better yet- fall asleep. God, I’m tired. So, so tired.

And, yet, something keeps me from that rest. It’s a quiet noise, but definitely there. Sniffling, from... somewhere behind me.

The elevator.

Olivia’s still in there. Guess it didn’t head down after all, shit. At the very least, that crimson bitch didn’t get to her- that’s all that matters to me. She’s safe.

Out of my field of vision, I hear another voice- a familiar one, Mr. Iadakan.

“Oh my GOD.” His footsteps get closer, followed by his frantic breathing as he crouches down by me. ”Inco, INCO! Say something- Raptor Jesus, you’re bleeding...” He gently puts a hand on my shoulder, causing me to wince.

Forcing the noise out of me, I let out a grunt- which devolves into a painful cough.

“Oh, thank Raptor Jesus. Don’t worry, you’re fine. You’re just fine, son. We need to get you to the nurse’s office- can you stand?”

Mr. Iadakan answers his own question. “Who am I kidding-”

“I can...I can stand.” I mutter, weakly bring my arm up and pressing it against the floor. The pain was mostly concentrated in my chest and my head, I could... probably stand with some assistance. Iadakan takes an arm under mine, grabbing my wrist to bring it over his shoulder.

“Come on, you’ll be alright. Come on now- and three, two, one...”

At the end of the count, Mr. Iadakan helps me off the ground. I flail to get my legs underneath me, but ultimately bring myself to my feet. Ooh, shit. Fuck- crap. As I stand upright, I feel something drip down my forehead. I can only assume it’s blood, visages of how screwed up I look floating in my mind.

“Mis... Mr. Iadakan.” I stutter, my throat parched. 

“Hm?” He tilts his head in my direction, simply keeping himself steady so I can prop myself up.

“Olivia’s in the elevator.”

Straining my eyes again to get a look at him, Iadakan looks horrified- before clearing his throat and calling out. “Olivia! Are you alright?”

There’s a pause, silence overtaking the hallway. Thankfully, Olivia speaks up from within the elevator.

“I’m... I’m here.”

“Thank Raptor Jesus.” Mr. Iadakan mutters, adjusting his grip around my shoulder. “Can you open the elevator? Inco needs to get to the nurses office.”

Another delay, before the ancient mechanisms keeping the lift functioning stir to life, opening the elevator doors once more. I lift my head, only to see an absolute wreck of a baryonyx staring back at me. Her hair is messy- and it looks like her cheeks are permanently stained with tears. She almost jumps out of her chair at the sight of me, favoring instead to wheel out of the elevator as fast as she can.

“Oh my fucking god, Inco! What- what did...” She looks up at me, horrified and shaking- and her voice is even scratchier than before.

“I don’t know. Just- let’s get him to the nurse’s office, come.” Iadakan and Olivia slowly help me into the elevator, allowing me to lean against the back wall. Despite their best efforts to hug the walls, the space was incredibly cramped. Thankfully I didn’t have to be squished in this position for long, the ride down was short.

Looking down to Olivia, she’s still quivering. I bring my hand up and shakily rest it on her shoulder, offering the most reassuring smile I can manage once she shares the look.

When the doors open, we’re welcomed by the sound of the end-of-day bell going off. The hallways quickly fill with eager to leave saurians that give the three of us worried and confused looks as we slowly make our way to the nurse’s office. I lost track of where exactly we were walking, or how long it has been. I’m too light-headed to care, all I wanted to do is lay down and rest.

“Just a little further, my boy.” Iadakan tries his best to sound chipper, though hints of worry and panic still came through in his voice.

I force myself to ask a pressing question, despite how my throat ached and fought against me.

“Can we stop at a water fountain?”

“Absolutely, for the both of you. Here- just up ahead.” Iadakan steers us in the direction of a trio of water fountains, average, short, and Liz height respectively. He keeps his arms around me as I painfully lean down, Olivia and I both drinking until we lose our breath. We go back for seconds, thirds in her case. I keep my eyes closed as much as I can, not wanting to strain and add onto my headache any further. Once we’ve had our fix, we continue for the nurse’s office.

Soon enough, my wish to lay down was granted. The nurse had me laid upon on a rather stiff mattress, my head sunk into an itchy feather-packed pillow while she cleaned the blood off of my face. I got to overhear her quietly discussing my injuries with Mr. Iadakan, it sounded like I was worse for wear.

A pair of tweezers was taken to my eyebrow, plucking the remnants of my glasses out of my head. Apparently, I was lucky my skull wasn’t cracked open. I don’t feel lucky.

After a good ten minutes of life-altering surgical work, I was allowed to rest- promising to myself to never take luxury pillows for granted again. I had kept my eyes closed for most of the exchange, not wanting to risk blinding myself from any of the lights overhead. But, once the nurse left the room and things went quiet, I squinted them open to reveal Olivia sat next to my bed, fast asleep in her wheelchair.

Looking across the room, Mr. Iadakan was at the foot of the bed, slowly pacing from left to right. “Mr. Iadakan?” I keep my voice low, not wanting to disturb Olivia.

The pterodactyl turns on his heel, quietly clearing his throat. “Yes, Inco? How are you feeling?”

“Better.” I take the chance to get a good look at my clothes, slowly going over every inch of my jacket that I was capable of examining without moving my head. The collar of my designer undershirt was slightly torn, the damage only worsening my mood. I don’t think today could get any worse.

“I am so sorry this happened to you.” Mr. Iadakan lets out a sigh, pressing his hand against his forehead. “Unbelievable. Utterly unbelievable.”

Normally, my instinct is to brush an incident off with a practiced ‘Oh, it’s alright!’ But, I don’t think that’s going to cut it this time around. “It’s not your fault.”

“It’s still completely inexcusable. You did nothing wrong, Inco. Nothing.” Iadakan continues pacing, seemingly unable to keep his hands from rubbing against each other. All I can do is nod, briefly looking over at Olivia. She looks peaceful, and I couldn’t be more thankful.

Fuck- crap. What a catastrophe today has been. All I wanted to do was try and apologize to Olivia, and I ended up in a hospital bed with bandages wrapped around my head. I can’t do anything right. Though, I guess being assaulted wasn’t really my fault...

No, no. It was. I threw the first punch, that much I can remember.

Distancing myself from wallowing in my own misery, I consider asking if Iadakan was informed about the art contest- but I don’t think now is a good time. Olivia and I were supposed to do it together, I wasn’t going to go behind her back like that. Not again.

Instead, I redirect my focus to the sound of the rain and wind battering against the windows, allowing my eyes to shut and taking solace in the darkness that enveloped me.

Chapter Text

BEEEP

BEEEP

Violently ripped from my slumber by the ominous-sounding siren blaring right by my head, I act on instinct and swipe my hand, batting the noise away from me and towards the floor.

What follows next is the painfully familiar sound of a cellphone clattering against tile, and the continued obnoxiously loud droning of the alarm.

Ugh.

I keep my eyes shut and attempt to roll over, content with dealing with the background noise-- until I’m reminded of my injuries by a zap of pain firing up through my stomach and chest. Right, I was... yeah. I don’t think this could get any worse.

“... Inco? What the hell, what is-...”

Olivia’s groggy voice further jogs my memory, she had been sleeping right next to bed. Why must I invoke fate like this? I didn’t mean to wake her up.

“Inco? Are you awake?” Her voice suddenly lowers in volume, which only makes it difficult to hear her over the amber alert- or- whatever the heck is blasting over my likely damaged phone’s speakers.

All I can muster in response is a grunt. My senses are too overloaded to formulate anything coherent. That headache I was fostering before I fell asleep is in full swing, and my stomach is killing me. Who would’ve thought getting kicked and beaten would hurt this bad?

The alarm suddenly ceases, my ears briefly graced with the room going silent. 
|
“Oh, shit.” Oh no. What’s wrong? “There’s a shelter-in-place alert.”

That one convinces me to roll back over and face her, squinting my eyes open to see the green gator-- who has my phone. She sets it face-down on the bed and looks past me. I can’t get a read on her expression, since it’s far too bright. Olivia takes notice to my peeping, scooting closer to the edge of my crappy mattress.

I shut my eyes as she gets close, a weight pressing down right by my head leading me to believe she’s sat her forearms down on my pillow. That theory was quickly shut down after a puff of hot air hits me in the cheek, followed by her voice right in my ear. “Are you okay, Inco?”

“I could be better.” It was as truthful as I was comfortable with being, I didn’t want to make her worry- but even a white lie like trying to cover up how hurt I am didn’t feel good.

“What’s with the alarm? Why shel-”

I’m cut off by a thunderclap, the distant rumbling making me uneasy. We both go quiet, allowing me to focus on the sounds outside the nurse’s office. The weather from earlier this morning has gotten worse. Strong gusts of wind and rain batter against the windows, the sounds making me uneasy. Was hail a common occurrence in an area like this? Was I overthinking it? Maybe.

Still, an alert like that is no joke. I can only assume some kind of serious weather event is going on, like a hurricane or something. Why hasn’t Olivia gone home? Surely it’s safer at her house than here, right? 

There’s too many questions I want to ask, and I barely have the mental capacity to formulate them.

I roll my head to look at her, prying my eyes open to be met with her snoot right in my face. The rest of her head is partially buried in her folded arms. One grey eye is left exposed, studying me like a predator. I’d feel threatened if I didn’t know any better.

“Olivia, where’s Mr. Iadakan?”

“Dunno.” Her tail snakes up onto the bed, coming to rest lazily over my legs.

“Why haven’t you gone home?”

She snorts, removing herself from my pillow. “Pfft, seriously? I’m not leaving you here.”

“...Or- or uh, going through the rain. Not in this bad boy.” She pats her wheelchair, settling back into it.

“Fair enough. I think.” I let out a grunt of pain, shifting around in place. I think I’ve successfully molded the shape of my head into this pillow.

All my tiny movements halt as a cold, scaled hand presses up against my cheek- and then my forehead. “You sure you’re okay?” 

I briefly forget how to breathe- her hand was freezing. But, I appreciate the coldness.

“Mhm.” My eyes squeeze shut again, I really need to keep them closed. These lights are killing me.

I feel Olivia’s hand gently prod at the bandages around my head. She seems hesitant, every touch gentle and considerate- as if I could break if any force was applied. Nothing she was doing felt painful- yet- so I didn’t object to the examination. 

She mumbles something under her breath, something about a... a punishment? A snake? I don’t know, and I don’t feel like raising my voice to ask. Olivia lifts her hand from my head, presumably bringing it back into her lap. I kinda missed it. It was like an ice pack, but more comforting.

God, how screwed up even am I? I try to recall what the nurse said, my memory fuddled since I was fading in and out of lucidity while she plucked glass shards out of my eyebrow- right, there’s one injury. My sunglasses, probably in pieces in a dumpster out back assuming the janitors got to the scene of the fight. I had a spare pair in a drawer somewhere back home, but the casualty was disappointing. Other than that, I just feel like... crap.

Hunger pains mixed with the bruises across my gut, the disorienting pain stacked on top of feeling like I had to throw up left me unwilling to move in any significance. My chest hurt too. I think I remember hearing something about how lucky I was to not have any broken ribs or worse. What if I ended up in the ICU? Or, like, the emergency room?

What are my parents gonna think about this?

A solitary sob interrupts my self-pity death spiral, the noise forcing my eyes open again. Olivia is hunched forward, elbows rested on the side of the bed. She’s crying, head buried in her hands with tears pouring down her snout.

“Oliv-”

“I’m so sorry.” She cuts me off, taking in a staggered breath before the words come spilling forth, the dam breaking.

“This whole- this- it’s my fault. Me and my bullshit, every time.” Olivia starts to hyperventilate, tears freely falling as she brings her head up and stares at me with watery eyes. “You’re fucked up because of me.”

Anything else she tries to say turns into incoherent mumbling, further made incomprehensible by burying her head into the sheets. If the school wasn’t empty, I’d be afraid of someone hearing all the commotion-- With how loud she was crying, it sounded like I died or something. Drumming up the willpower to move, I lay my arm over her back and and pull her in for a hug.

The gesture stops her sobbing long enough for me get a sentence in.

“It’s not your fault, Olivia. None of this was.”

She sputters again. I strain my ears to try and hear her. “That’s not true. You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“I think it’s true.”

Olivia’s arms shift, sliding underneath my back and returning the hug. She doesn’t try to argue any further, simply sobbing into my chest. That too goes quiet after a time, being replaced by soft breathing and a heartbeat against my stomach. It felt mean to say, but I was thankful for the silence. All this emotion has me tired, again. Olivia is half on the bed, half off the bed-- but that doesn’t seem to stop her from falling asleep across me. At least, I think she’s asleep.

I allow my eyes to close again, all the emotion has me tired. Just as I try to catch some shut-eye again, yet another interruption drags me out of it. The door to the nurse’s office swings open and slams against a nearby bookshelf, Olivia shooting up off of me and falling back into her chair. I squint, trying to see who was causing all the noise. It’s Iadakan, missing his jacket.

“Ah.” He looks over the two of us, puzzled. But, he drops it. “I’m glad to see you’re awake, Inco!”

Mr. Iadakan strides across the room, leaning over me. “How are you feeling?”

I turn my hand over, raising a triumphant thumbs-up into the air. My unwillingness to speak brings a frown to my art teacher’s snout. “Are you thirsty?”

He looks to Olivia, who’s wiping her tears away. “How long has it been since he last drank?”

Olivia swallows, blinking. “Uhh... He just woke up like, five minutes ago. I’m pretty parched too.”

“I’m sure you are. Can I borrow your canteen?” He points at the bottle dangling on her chair, thankfully not prodding on why she looks like she’s been crying again. I don’t want her to dig up any more of those feelings.

Olivia reaches behind her and passes over the sticker-laden canteen to our teacher, who takes it and exits the bedside to fill it up at a sink in the corner. While he’s there, he reaches over to the light switch-- flicking it off and rendering the room blissfully dark. “Sorry about the lights, Inco. Forgot to turn them off before I left.”

I finally felt comfortable enough to open my eyes fully, everything in the room being barely illuminated by the light coming from the window. If I wasn’t in the situation I was in, I’d feel miserable about how drab everything has been as of late. Right now, though, I was just thankful that my retinas were still intact.

My eyes quickly adjust to the lowered light level, the fluorescent ceiling lights still burned into my vision. I’m sure that’ll fade... hopefully. A singe of pain in my gut sparks a realization in me. What the hell am I going to do if Mia comes back to school? What if she does something to me again? Or, Raptor Jesus forbid, Olivia? Could-- will she get suspended for this? A foggy memory of someone mentioning how she wasn’t above attacking people surfaces in my mind, which evidently proved to be right. Did that mean this isn’t the first time she’s hurt someone?

Gah, enough with the questions, Inco. I’m getting worked up again, I should just be thankful nothing is broken... except for my shades. Damnit.

My self-contained pity party is interrupted by the loud click-clack of dress shoes on tile. Iadakan’s darkened figure looms over me, Olivia’s canteen in hand. He passes the container over my person, a green scaled hand snatching it out of his grip. I turn to watch Olivia close her eyes and throw her head back, starting to chug the thing-- before pausing about halfway through the canteen and removing it from her lips. She glances at me, before clearing her throat.

“Where’d you go? While we were out, that is.” Olivia sets the canteen down next to my hip, wiping her mouth with her sleeve.

“Oh, you know. Here and there, out and about. End of day work and making sure students got home before the worst of this storm hit.” Iadakan twirls his wrist, softly tilting his head to the side as he lists off his duties.

“Huh.” Olivia shrugs her shoulders, looking down at the bed and rapping her claws against her chair’s armrest. “Did you find Mia?”

The tapping abruptly stops as the parasaur’s name leaves her mouth, her hand briefly contracting into a fist.

“Nope. She’s left the premises, I would hope. I overheard chatter about how quick she was about it too.” Iadakan’s mouth hangs open, the words dying in his throat. His snout snaps shut and he glances at the wall-- and then the ceiling.

“Good.” Olivia bares her teeth, the mere thought of Mia eliciting a violent reaction. Lifting my arm, I gently grab ahold of her hand and squeeze. She squeezes me back, the speed at which her expression changed from anger to calm was amusing.

“Hey-- can you, uhm... Can you give me a sip? It hurts to move.” My flawless segue into asking for a drink was a success, but Olivia hesitates before releasing my hand and grabbing her canteen, bringing it up to my mouth and tilting it up. Crap, that tastes so good. This may just be better than a glass of ice water late at night.

The awkward circumstance once again reminds me of my current status, and gets me worrying about the future. What would... oh man, I’m gonna have to tell my parents about this. Are they gonna try to sue Mia? What about the school? Surely they’d flip out if they see me in this state.

Olivia takes the canteen away once I’ve had my fix, and I mouth a ‘thank you’ before thinking out loud. Surely Iadakan will have some insight. “Hah. You know, for once, I’m glad my parents aren’t around. They’d freak out if they knew I got beat up like this.”

My attempt at joking lands with one of the two present parties, Olivia breaking out into a fit of snorting and giggling. “That’s-- aheh. That’s messed up.”

Mr. Iadakan, however, looks dejected. Once again, he glances off to the side and swallows, hesitating to answer. He lets out a quiet chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck and refusing to make eye contact. “...Yeah.”

He was probably right, this isn’t exactly a joking matter. But, laughter is the best medicine-- and it certainly helped Olivia. She looks like she feels better, which makes me feel better.

Iadakan clears his throat. “Grim tidings aside-- normally, in a situation like this, I’d suggest you two catch up on your homework. But...” He looks me over, wincing.

“Probably best you just catch up on rest. I don’t think you’re going home anytime soon either.” Iadakan folds his arms, raising a hand to lazily scratch his chin.

Olivia shrugs, resting her head on her fist. “Probably. I mean, I c-” Olivia snaps her mouth shut, her eyes widening. It was too late though, Mr. Iadakan already had a smug look on his face.

“Can you now?” 

“No.” She answers quickly, blowing a short raspberry. “Nope. I’m too tired.”

In the midst of the two bickering and poking fun at each other, my attention is drawn across the room-- specifically to the door to the nurse’s office. Wasn’t the light on out there a minute ago? I could’ve sworn that Iadakan didn’t turn out the lights when he came in. Did a janitor do it or something?

What probably should have been a fleeting thought lingers in my head, and I can’t pinpoint why. Screw it. I raise my voice, accidentally cutting off Olivia in the middle of her sentence.

“And th-”

“Mr. Iadakan, did you turn out the lights in the hall?” I shift my hand and point at the door, Iadakan twisting his torso to follow my finger.

His expression contorts into a quizzical look. “Did I...?”

He walks to the door, pulling it open and poking his head out into the hall. “Huh.” As one final test, Iadakan leans back into the room and flicks the lights-- and I reflexively close my eyes. Though, nothing happens. With a series of repeated ‘click-click-clicks’, the lights in the room don’t turn on.

Mr. Iadakan lets out a sigh, palming his forehead. He pinches his brow, rubbing his hand all across his snout. “Incredible! The power went out.”

With one final exhale, he waves his hand, sounding exasperated. “It’s fine. The lights were off anyway! And it feels like we still have air conditioning.”

“Isn’t there some sort of  backup generator? Are those a thing?” I think aloud. I can’t say I’ve ever seen the power go out in a public building like this-- only at previous homes, and we certainly haven’t had any emergency power sources.

“No. Well- yes. But, apparently it’s ancient and barely works. Hence why we only have air conditioning.” He motions to a vent tucked in the corner of the room, a strand of paper attached to the frame waving in the blowing wind.

“That fucking blows.” Olivia  huffs, bringing her legs up into her chair and curling into a ball.

“Language.” Iadakan wags a finger at her, approaching the bed once more.

“That’s not-- that’s not fair!”

Our art teacher chuckles, crossing his arms again. “Oh, you’re fine. It’s after school-hours, I don’t mind. Say whatever.”

“Whatever.” I blurt out, eliciting a groan from Olivia and a laughing fit from Iadakan. I felt like a king, both reactions being incredibly amusing to me. I try to laugh myself-- but a sting in my gut stops that dead in its tracks. I can’t even laugh without hurting myself.

Thinking about my beating reminds me of why it happened in the first place. We were walking to tell Mr. Iadakan about the art contest... and, uh. That happened. I look at Olivia, scrolling through something on her phone. I nudge her leg, catching her attention.

“Olivia, would now be a good time to... uhh...” I trail off, not wanting to say it out loud. It takes a moment, but the thought clicks in her mind-- and she cringes.

Iadakan looks between the two of us, his voice carrying a sense of confusion mixed with worry. “What’s the matter?”

Olivia’s eyes dart all over the room, pausing to study everything except me or Mr. Iadakan. Her hands fumble around her armrests, gripping and clawing at the faux leather. Lifting my arm, I take one of her hands into my own-- seeing as that got her to relax last time. It worked like a charm, and she flashes a thankful look at me before clearing her throat and locking eyes with our teacher.

“The uh... reason-- that Mia did this. Why we were at the elevator? It was to tell you something.”

Mr. Iadakan doesn’t ask why, merely raising an eyebrow. Olivia hesitates to continue, only gathering the strength to speak after I gently rub my thumb across her palm. She adjusts her head, settling it into the crook between her knees.

“Inco’s submission wasn’t his. Or-- I faked his submission. For him-- not for him. I submitted a piece of my artwork under his name.” Olivia’s breath hitches, the tell-tale sign of someone on the verge of tears.

“A-and, uh. Mia noticed. She... blackmailed me into doing group projects for her. On my own.”

She’s shaking now. Crap. Before I can try to salvage her declining coherence and explain the situation further, Iadakan takes control. He quickly circles the end of the bed and kneels down next to Olivia, pulling her into a hug. Stuck in bed like this, all I can do is watch and try not to get emotional myself. The last thing anyone needs in this room is another person crying.

The hug doesn’t do much to ease her sobs. In-fact, it only worsens them. But, Iadakan doesn’t let up on the hug. Not until she finally quiets down and returns it. After a minute or so, he finally pulls away-- keeping his hands on her shoulders. “It’s okay, Olivia. Just, start from square one. Take your time.”

Olivia slowly nods, using her sleeves to wipe down her face. Taking in a shaky breath, she begins to carefully explain Mia’s extortion to Mr. Iadakan. It took her over an hour to walk him through it all, with a break in the middle to refill her canteen with water.

It was... sort of rude of me to space out, but I had a grasp on the situation and they didn’t need my input. I think I fell asleep with how spliced-together my memory was of the retelling. Mr. Iadakan had pulled up a steel chair that was once sat in the corner, sitting on it backwards. He listened carefully to Olivia, splitting up any questions he asked with long bouts of reflection. Whenever she started to break down or hesitate, he slipped in the occasional quip or word of encouragement.

“I had a feeling that something was happening. You should have come forward sooner.”

Olivia nods, casting her gaze to the floor shamefully. Iadakan smiles, waving his hand dismissively. “But, I’m glad you did. Truth be told, I’m partially responsible for this myself.”

The will to speak up suddenly rises in me. “Why?”

“I...” He hesitates, taking a breath before continuing. “I knew about what Olivia did. I recognized her style the moment I laid eyes on the piece.”

Olivia freezes, slowly lifting her head to meet Iadakan... She looks mortified. That doesn’t seem to deter him, though. “I was waiting for you to come up and tell me yourself. But, look where that got you two.”

Mr. Iadakan’s voice lowers, his entire demeanor tilting downward. His shoulders sag, and his head and wings-- normally eternally posted high and proud-- also hang low. “I should have acted. I could have prevented this.”

The room falls quiet, an awkward tension taking a stranglehold on all three of us. Olivia’s eyes are red from all the crying she’s done today. I can’t even begin to imagine how she feels right now, I’m surprised she still has tears left to expend. Mr. Iadakan finally breaks the silence, clasping his hands together and rubbing in a circular motion.

“I can understand why you did what you did. I wish I could offer wisdom in that regard. But, I believe that everything that’s happened today should be a lesson.” He pauses, intently studying the ground. “One about... lying. Hiding things from people that care about you.”

Iadakan exhales, seemingly having spoken his mind. I feel like a background character in a movie-- every time one of them speaks, I turn my head a little and follow the talk back and forth. Olivia, to my surprise, is no longer crying. She still looks depressed, but... the pep talk seems to have had an effect. She’s focused on her hands, toying with her fingers and rotating her wrists. I hope they don’t hurt, still.

I’m tempted to speak, but settle on a better idea instead. Exerting myself, I slide back out of the sheets and sit up, the movement attracting Olivia’s attention. I lean over and reach out towards her, bending my torso and gritting my teeth with the effort. I offer her my hand, giving her the most comforting grin I can manage. I wasn’t able to mask how much effort this simple gesture was taking, though.

Her gaze flicks from my strained expression to my outstretched arm, before she carefully takes my hand into her own. She tenses up, her breath becoming shaky-- but, she does give Mr. Iadakan a nod. I sit back into the bed-- ooh, crap. I should’ve just made her work for it. Ouch.

Iadakan smiles, satisfied with her acceptance. His eyes dart around the room before settling on me. “And, besides--” He scoots over and gently nudges my leg. “This dashing young gentleman you’ve found took a few hits for you. It would be a shame to let him down by not taking anything away from this.”

I give him a strange look, but, he quickly winks and returns to sitting semi-normally on his seat. Olivia snickers, and we both turn to her. “Yeah...”

She swallows, avoiding eye contact with either of us. “Thanks, Mr. Iadakan.” With that, Olivia begins to awkwardly roll out of the room. Just as she circles around the bed past me, Mr. Iadakan stands up.

“Where are you going, if you don’t mind me asking?” He reminded me of a... well, no, he is a nosy teacher with the way he crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at her.

“Bathroom.” She blurts out quickly, not stopping to politely answer.

Instantly, his expression softens. “Ah, go right ahead.” He pauses, clicking his tongue. “Sorry. I wasn’t going to keep you, just have that one primed.” Mr. Iadakan walks ahead of her, opening the door and motioning for the gator to come on through. She hastily exits stage left, pausing just out of sight to turn her phone’s flashlight on before disappearing entirely.

Iadakan squints for a moment, scrutinizing the door-- before turning around with a dramatic flourish of his wings and returning to his seat beside the bed . “Well enough! I’d ask you to help me grade some papers, but, I don’t have any papers. And you look like a train wreck.”

“I feel like a train wreck.”

“That’s true!” He reclines back in the stiff chair, straightening out and stretching his entire body. He lets out a stereotypical dad groan, mumbling something barely comprehensible as he did so.

“MmmaIdidntevenbringmybaganywaaaay. Phew.” Iadakan sits back up, settling into a typical bored teacher pose. I lean my head back and retreat into my mindspace, deflating a little.

Olivia looks to be... improving. I think. Sure, she probably did just have to use the bathroom-- but something felt off. I couldn’t pin it on anything obvious, like her limited speaking. That could be explained away by needing a drink. I guess it was just body language? Her presence? I could text her and make sure she’s okay. Maybe she needs space?

That’s probably it. This wouldn’t be the first time she’s headed off alone to sort things out by herself. But, still. With everything that’s happened, I can’t help but worry. And based on the expression Mr. Iadakan is sporting, he’s worried too. His foot taps the floor in a steady rhythm, busywork to stimulate his mind. Suddenly, he tilts forward and strikes a Thinker-esque pose, a look of determination crossing his face.

The rumble of thunder distracts me from my astute observations, and we both flinch as it cracks and booms across the sky. Right, the storm. I had forgotten that was happening.

The storm.

The typhoon.

Iadakan and I have the same epiphany at the same time, his eyes widening in sync with mine. Olivia, bound to a wheelchair, is wandering around a dark school-- alone-- in the middle of a monsoon that was severe enough to warrant a shelter-in-place alert.

With another grunt, Iadakan shoots out of his chair and stretches his wings. “Okay-- I’m gonna go make sure she didn’t fall in.” The joke doesn’t land, but, I guess it was kinda funny. He lowers his head and guns for the door, swinging it open and disappearing into the darkness in a hurry.

The door clicks shut, leaving me alone in the office. I stare at it, a visage of my first day here flashing in my head. I was essentially in this same position, on this same bed. Staring at this same door. Considerably less messed up, but... has anything really changed? A strange wave of depression-- or... guilt? Something negative comes over me.

I know I’ve already apologized to Olivia, but I can’t shake the feeling that It wasn’t enough. Some irrational itch in the back of my head telling me that I haven’t made it up to her yet. Irrational. Right, that’s what this is. Just a nonsense doubt, it means nothing. She just needs some alone time. Like me, I’m sort of thankful I’m by myself in here.

Alone. With my thoughts. In a dark room.

Okay, that was a lie. I’d feel better if I knew what they were up to. But, maybe that nagging feeling is right. If I got up and checked on her, I’d just put myself in the spotlight and make everything worse. I don’t want that to happen, not now. Iadakan got up to find her, though. Why shouldn’t I?

I-- gently-- toss and turn in bed, hoping the movement might jostle my brain and let me come to a decision. It hurts, but I don’t pay attention to it.

Okay, okay. Screw it. I’ll give them a couple more minutes. Have faith, Inco.

I resign myself to staring at the door, hoping I’ll be proven wrong. Any second now, Mr. Iadakan and Olivia are gonna come through that door, and we’re gonna ride out this storm for the next couple hours together. Just as it should be. Against my better judgment, I check my phone constantly-- continually disappointed that the time hasn’t skipped to five minutes in the future each time I do.

One minute, nothing.

Two minutes, still nothing.

Three... crap.

I perform short breathing exercises, trying to brace myself for the pain. This is gonna hurt like a motherfucker.

Grabbing the bedsheets, I throw them off to the side, exposing my lower half to the humid air. The gust of wind sweeping over my legs feels nice, even if the fabric is sticking to my thighs. I grit my teeth, and slowly push one leg off the edge of the bed-- followed by the other. Bent in an awkward ‘L’ shape, I slide out of bed and onto my feet.

Shockingly, It doesn’t hurt. Not as much as I would’ve expected it to. I take a step forward, putting pressure  on my leg--

And I nearly fold in on myself, it feels like I fell into a rose bush. Or got kicked by a bitchy parasaur’s leather boot. I fall back on the bed, spreading my arms and laying flat. Taking another deep breath, I stand up again-- managing to not crumple under my own weight. Carefully leaving the safety of the bed, I hobble my way to the door. Gripping the handle shakily, I use it to support myself and catch my breath.

I couldn’t really tell if it was because of how bad my stomach was aching or because of my nerves. Probably both. I twist the handle down and open the door, taking a step into the hallway. My foot splashes, and that horrifying feeling of wetness seeping through my my shoes hits me. I look down, the light coming from the office window’s reflecting off a thin layer of water that poured into the now open doorway.

What the heck? Did the building flood? I mean-- obviously it flooded. But is this... normal? Or, supposed to happen?

Whatever, a little water never hurt anyone. I set off in the opposite direction Mr. Iadakan went in, my staggered footsteps made louder by the splashing water. Seeing the school in this condition was a little unnerving. The pitch-black halls, mysterious flooded floor... I felt like I was in a horror movie.

I couldn’t worry about that right now, though. I needed to find Olivia.

The thought strikes me, and I realize I don’t actually know where to start. I can’t just start shouting her name either-- I don’t want either of them to hear me screaming and get worried. Where would Olivia go if she wanted to console herself?

Outside would be too dangerous-- just the thought of her being out there is enough to make me woozy. I don’t even know If I’d be capable of helping her if she got lost-- or hurt. Bad thoughts, hush. The power is out, so the second floor is a no-go. She wouldn’t get out of her chair and climb upstairs, right?

Nope, that’d be silly. But it probably wouldn’t hurt to check the stairs anyway. I can’t help but wonder where Mr. Iadakan is as I waddle my way through the darkness. He’s probably grading papers up in his classroom. Lucky guess that she’d come back and give us some alone time in the nurse’s office. Good plan, except he didn’t account for the fact that Olivia is... Olivia.

Where would she even go if she went upstairs? Back to the classroom? To Iadakan’s class? Crap, what if she went back to the elevator? Too many possibilities are running through my head, I can’t settle on where to start. She’s probably not even upstairs-- and I just realized I’d have to climb them myself. No thanks.

The closest set of stairs should be just around the corner, though. I’m sure I can at least check if she left her chair behind or something. The drains embedded into the floor every twenty or so steps are working overtime to keep the water level to a minimum. How sucky would it be if these didn’t work? At the rate the water is draining and refilling, surely it’d be-

A door ahead of me suddenly swings open, the shadowy outline of a familiar baryonyx poking her head into the hallway.

“I-Inco?” Olivia calls out, her voice low-- like she’s not supposed to be talking. I can’t make out her facial expression, but she sounds worried. I’d be worried too, just minutes ago I was bedridden and now I’m halfway across the school.

“Olivia? What’re you doing out here?”

She blows off my question, rolling out into the hallway fully. “What are you doing out of bed? Raptor Jesus, are you okay?”

“I’m fine. You know, I fell down a flight of stairs once. This?” I motion to my gut, only afterward do I realize she probably can’t see me. “This is nothing.”

She fumbles with something in the darkness, before the space between us is illuminated by her phone’s flashlight. I avert my eyes, putting my hand in front of the lightsource. “Ow.”

“Shit, sorry.” Olivia quickly lays her phone on her thigh, which saves my eyes from being seared clean through. Our lower halves are left barely illuminated by the snuffed-out light, creating a sort of campfire ambience. “Sorry.”

“You’re fine. What are you doing out here?” I repeat the question, shifting my weight to my other leg. I was getting tired just standing here, ugh.

“I was... uh.” She trails off, shuffling in her seat.

“What-- did you get lost on the way to the bathroom?” I force a cheesy-- if not awkward smile. Iadakan’s attempts at humor always succeed at lightening the mood, why not try my hand?

“...No. I didn’t go.”

I sigh. Not out of exasperation, or even because of the pain biting at my stomach. I’m disappointed. It’s... it’s like she didn’t even listen. “So you... left? On your own? In the dark?”

“Olivia, you know me and Iadakan are there for you. He told you himself. Why didn’t you talk to us? We were right there-- in fact, you already did. Why didn’t you just do it again?”

Olivia doesn’t answer me. Instead, she sinks her head down towards the light-- revealing her eyes are even redder. The scales on her cheeks are wet, too. She’s been crying again. Before I can ask if she’s okay, she sucks up a breath and whips her head up, staring at me with pained eyes. Like she’s been betrayed. I don’t like that I know the look.

She hiccups, drawing in a sharp breath. “I don’t understand you.”

“You’ll let me commit fraud with your name-- put our futures at risk with this stupid fucking art contest--” She swings her arm out, motioning to the room. I can only guess that this was... or, is the art display room for the contest.

“Give up your entire lunch break and skip class just to try and help me. Nearly get killed by that bitch all to ‘save me’ from her.” There’s a rising heat in her words. Her hands are bundled into fists, shaking wildly on her armrests.

“Drag your sorry ass out of bed, covered in bruises-- all just so you can confront me AGAIN!”

“Yet- and yet--” It’s becoming difficult for her to talk through the tears. “When it fucking matters-- when I want to reach out to you or when I think it’s getting better, you THROW IT AWAY!” Her arm lurches out, a single extended claw roughly poking against my chest.

“Always try to fucking-- to look out for me, do what you think is best-- but you never ask me! Didn’t think straight, maybe- maybe-- follow me into that elevator. No, you get your shit kicked in!”

“Fucking tr-- th- that- that girl that showed up. The ONE time I try.. I try to... i-it’s torn away from me! Why is it always like this?! Why?”

She pauses, hyperventilating. I can see her bared fangs in the light. I don’t answer.

“WHY!?”

Olivia and I are both taken aback. Her breathing slows down, becoming less frantic. As she calms down, I space out-- something clicking in my head. Something I probably should’ve realized a while ago.

I’m... all she has.

Liz... she and Olivia tolerate each other. She hates Ben. There’s her family, but you’re obligated to love family. Damien lives with her, and he’s nice. But, again. Family. I can imagine she doesn’t think he or her family counts as something she’s earned.

I’m Olivia’s only connection. Her only friend, the single attempt she’s made to reach out to someone. And what have I done? I’ve fucked up just like she’s expected me to. She hiccups again, running a hand through her messy hair. She leans against it, bracing her head on her palm.

“Why do you care?” She’s much quieter now. All of her energy expended in yelling at me.

“Why do you have to... lead me on? Why can’t you just pity me and ignore me like- like everyone else?”

Olivia looks up at me. She’s exhausted. Her hands are still shaking, but her hyperventilating has stopped. I’m at a loss, I don’t have any idea where to start. But I need to say something.

“I... can’t understand you.”

I clench my fists, digging my nails into my palm. That doesn’t help the pain in my stomach, sadly.

“I was never really ridiculed as a kid. Never targeted. Sure, I was out of place sometimes... weird kid with his sunglasses. But, I found my circles.” I still can’t make out her expression. Every time lightning flashes, my eyes grow unaccustomed to the darkness and I only get a glimpse of her face.

“So, I don’t understand what it’s like to be viewed as something, rather than someone. I never will. I won’t ever know what it’s like to be treated the way you have. Pitied, or-- or made out to be lesser than--” Despite my best attempts, I can’t hold back tears. My eyes start to water, my voice wavering.

“... Even being reduced to nothing more than what I’m good at.” I point into the art gallery. ‘My’ piece is somewhere in there still, the catalyst for all of this. “You framed to prove that your-- your art wasn’t just good because of the effort. You did it to prove that you were more than...”

I pause, wondering if this was the right thing to say. Olivia sniffles, struggling to hold back another outburst of crying.

“The people who care about you-- who you care about. They don’t see you as some... crippled prodigy.”

“They see you as Olivia.”

Forcing myself through the pain, I crouch down to get eye-level with her. I can just barely make out her eyes in the dark. Still pretty, even after all she’s been through.

“I just see you as Olivia. My friend.” I quickly wipe my face off, brushing my hand across my knee. “You’re... funny, creative. Passionate. I like to listen to you talk about stuff. You’ve shown me a lot of cool things, like those animes we watch. You helped me get better when I nearly overdosed after I got sick. I always look forward to hanging out or killing time with you.”

She’s sobbing again. I’m not having it. I close the gap between us, bringing her in for a hug. Olivia doesn’t waste any time returning the embrace, almost scratching my back with how hard she squeezed me. The only thing that hasn’t relaxed is her heartbeat. It feels like it’s about to jump out of her chest.

Two minutes. I counted in my head this time, the hug lasted two minutes. Her breathing has calmed down entirely, as has the shaking in her hands. I hope her wrists feel better, that can’t be good for them. She lets up on the death-grip enough to let me step away. I cringe as I stand up, my shins got soaked in water-- and now my pants are clinging to my skin. Gross.

“Th-thank you, Inco.”

“You’re welc-”

“No. I mean... for everything. Even when I try to push you away, you’ve come right back.” She laughs, smiling for the first time since... I can’t remember. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”

I return her smile, my stomach fluttering. “You’re welcome.”

Neither of us can think of anything to say, my hands finding their way into my pockets. Olivia grabs her phone and turns off the light, leaving the windows as of our only source of-- poor-- light. I take a look into the display room. Maybe we should... symbolically destroy the work with my name on it. Blame it on Mia or something.

Mmmm... no. That’d be kind of silly.

“Mr. Iadakan was looking for you. He’s probably looking for us both now.”

Olivia gasps. “Oh, shit. Seriously? He’s probably flipping out.” She sounds better, more energetic. I’m glad. She waves me ahead, grabbing onto her wheels and setting off back in the direction I came from. I follow behind her, reaching out to take her handles-- I hesitate. Maybe not now.

“Should we... go back to the office? We probably should. Are you okay?” She turns her head, flicking her hair out of her eyes to get a good look at me. I nod, which she doesn’t seem to believe. “If you say so.”

“Maybe he’s in his classroom. He mentioned that he had to grade papers.” I try to keep up, but, I find myself struggling to keep pace with Olivia.

“You gonna carry me upstairs?” Olivia quips as we turn the corner... the wrong corner? Maybe? I don’t actually remember what direction I walked, most of my time was spent stumbling around in the dark. I’m sure it’s fine, we could just start shouting his name if it gets that bad.

This... turned out alright. I’m thankful it did. Turns out my plan worked out after all, Olivia isn’t mad at me anymore. Heck, I’d even go as far as saying she looks chipper.

I feel better about myself, too. It feels like a weight has been brought off my chest. At least mentally. Physically, my chest is killing me-- and my stomach aches. I can’t decide if it’s hunger pains or bruises causing it, though. I resist the urge to lean on Olivia’s wheelchair, forcing myself to not lean on it too hard. I do a sweep of the hallway, realizing we probably should’ve been back at the office by now.

This was the... hallway just next to the principal’s office. There’s a glass ceiling here, one I feel... unsafe being under. The typhoon obscures most of the light trying to shine down on us, puddles forming on the glass above. This would suck during a hailstorm.

At least the drains finally kicked in. My footsteps don’t cause any splashes, only loud squeaks because of the wet tiles and my shuffling. Maybe this is a sign of the weather improving?

Before I can ponder my poor sense of direction any longer, Olivia gently tugs on my sleeve. Looking back down, she’s laser-focused on something further down the hallway. Squinting, I can just barely make out a tiny red light in the distance, slowly encroaching upon us. Splashing follows next, footsteps. The little ember bounces in sync with whoever is getting close.

My flight or fight response kicks in again, perfectly timed with the hair on the back of my neck standing up. Olivia scratches a new series of marks into her arm rests as whoever it is continues to approach.

The figure steps under the glass ceiling. It’s Iadakan. The second thing I notice is the axe hoisted over his shoulder. Light reflects off the blade, nearly as bright as the cigarette hanging out of his mouth. Something being dropped to the floor causes the both of us to flinch. Glancing down, it’s the painting Olivia made for the art contest.

The piece is kicked across the floor, colliding with the art display case. Olivia rolls backwards, nearly crushing my foot. A million questions run through my head, but the attempts to ask them die in my throat. He wouldn’t hurt us.

Iadakan reaches up with his now free hand, pulling the cigarette from his mouth and tapping stray flakes of ash off the end. He speaks in a tone I’ve never heard him in before, a threatening aura to his voice. It was difficult to hear him over the storm. “This is it, yeah?”

Olivia doesn’t answer. I muster up the courage, stuttering. “W-what?”

Iadakan ignores me, focusing on Olivia. He brings the axe down off his shoulder, setting the head on the ground and resting on it like a cane. She hesitates, but nods once-- clearly as frightened as I am.

“Mmm.” He grunts, placing the cigarette back into his snout and taking hold of the axe again. He turns to the display case, taking a moment to study the artwork inside, particularly the school’s prized drawing that Olivia made.

I take another step back as he raises the axe over his shoulder. Olivia remains frozen, following his movements with her head. Before I can voice any protests, he exhales-- violently sending the axe forward into the display case. 

We both flinch as the glass explodes, and I close my eyes. My ears are filled with the sounds of more glass shattering, and splintering wood. Thunder roars overhead, shaking my eardrums further. I reach out and blindly reach for Olivia, making sure she’s still close by.

Finally, all of the noise-- save for the rain-- stops. Opening my eyes, Iadakan has lowered the axe into open palms, holding it at his waist. He’s winded, his wings rising and falling with each hefty breath. The cigarette that was once in his mouth is gone.

“Hah... fwooh...”

He steps away from the tattered remains of the display case, kicking a shred of the art contest painting into the chaos. The axe makes a horrific screech as it briefly drags against the tiles, quickly being hoisted over his shoulder once more.

“It’s... it’s done.”

“Good riddance.”

Olivia takes the words out of my mouth. “What... was that for?”

Mr. Iadakan thinks about his answer, clicking his tongue. “Think of it as turning over a new leaf.”

A shit-eating smirk overtakes his face. “Or, you know.” He taps the handle of the stolen fire axe. “Burying the ‘hatchet’?”

The mood instantly switches from unnerving to utterly cringe. Olivia and I give him a deadpan stare, but Iadakan chuckles at his own joke. “Heh. I’m a hoot.”

“Anyways.” He brandishes the axe once more, pointing it straight at me like a king issuing a royal decree. “You, young man.”

“M-me?” I point at myself, tensing up once more.

Iadakan opens his mouth, hesitating. A look of intense reflection crosses his face, and he lowers the weapon. “On second thought, maybe not.”

“What?”

“I was going to suggest hitting the security office next, but I don’t want to cause a complete scandal for the place.” He swirls his finger in the air, looking around at the school. “Bah, I’ll wait for the power to come back on and do it myself.”

“Do what?” Olivia has calmed down, glancing between our teacher and the wrecked display case.

“There was a camera watching that hallway when the fight happened. Did you not notice?

Olivia blinks, frowning. “I was in the elevator.”

“Right. Well, there was. If there isn’t any footage of the fight, it’s his word against hers. Inco doesn’t have a record. And this isn’t her first time attacking other students, let alone him.”

Huh. That makes sense. It feels wrong, but, so was blackmailing my friend. Sucks to suck, I guess. Olivia plucks another rising question right out of my head. “You know there was a bunch of other paintings in there, right?”

Iadakan shrugs, nudging a chunk of wood into the pile. “Who gives a shit? None of those students are in attendance anyway, and none of them still practice art.”

Olivia sighs, shaking her head. “Okay.”

“NOW!” He swings the axe around in a wide arc, tossing it off behind him. It clatters off of a locker, never to be seen again. “Let’s get you two back to the nurse’s office, Inco looks like he’s about to throw up on himself.”

Crap, do I?  Olivia makes a disgusted noise, wheeling away from me. “Eeew, hell no.”

I hobble behind the two of them, thankful that this little event has passed. And, maybe it’s wishful thinking, but I swear the rain has lightened up. The power is still out, but if everything goes right, I can hopefully go home before the sun sets. I’m ready to forget about all of this and take a sixteen-hour nap.

Iadakan is strutting like he’s won the lottery, him and Olivia look happy that this is all behind us as well. “You look chipper, Olivia. Anything happen while you were out and about?”

She didn’t use the bathroom. Who could’ve guessed? “I feel better.”

“I’m glad.” He gives the gator a firm pat on the shoulder, stopping in front of the door to the office. He opens it for the two of us, theatrically motioning for us to enter. “Come in, come in. You two need to rest.”

And, we do just that. Or, I do. As I limp across the room and settle back into the crappy mattress, Iadakan stops Olivia at the door. “Olivia. One more thing, I have something for you.”

She looks over her shoulder, wheeling around to face our teacher. I watch on curiously, moving my head around to try and get a look at what she’s being handed. Mr. Iadakan reaches into his coat, pulling out a sheaf of papers. “Look what I found while poking around my classroom!”

Olivia throws her head back and groans, drowning out Iadakan’s cheerful explanation of why she should do her homework. She snatches the papers out of his hand, grumpily rolling to the side of my bed to get started on them. I can’t help but snicker, earning myself a hiss and a slap on the foot.

The next hour or so is spent making banter, all three of us getting into a heated discussion about our favorite anime for fifteen minutes. Well, it was more like them two getting into an argument while I agreed with whoever was being loudest at the moment-- I don’t watch enough anime to have participated.

Over the course of said heated debate, the rain lessened and the clouds parted to curse me with blindness once again. I roll over away from the windows, burying my head into my pillow.

“I’m sorry about your glasses, Inco.” Mr. Iadakan calls out from the corner, having occupied that same chair.

“Mfhall ghood.”

“That’s nice, dear.” I assume he goes back to reading one of the magazines he piled into his lap earlier. “I’ll call a taxi for you in a moment, we should get you home as soon as possible.”

“Mhmhm.” I mumble out, muffled by the feather-stuffed pillow. I hate feathers, they’re not even the fun kind of antique. Just cheap and weird feeling, especially encased in a scratchy bag like this.

Olivia is busy watching something on her phone, only putting it away when she hears the all-too-familiar rumble of a distant engine and screech of rubber. It must be that one batshit insane taxi driver coming to pick me up. The perfect cocktail to nurse my growing headache-- a reckless driver and the overwhelming strength of the sun. Cool.

Mr. Iadakan rises from his chair and gently nudges me, having assumed I fell asleep. “Get up, your chariot awaits.”

“I’m up.” I keep my eyes closed, no matter how helpless I feel. Risking being blind isn’t on my bucket list for today. “Can you uh... walk me there? I can’t really see.”

“Of course. Olivia, you stay here. Call your godparents to come get you as well.”

She doesn’t answer. Iadakan helps me out of bed, allowing me to use him as support while he guides me through the school. Despite the front entrance being nearby, the walk was slow-going. Even with his help, I still had to take it easy because of how screwed up I was.

“Just a little bit longer, Inco.”

“Mmhm.” Tough it out, Inco. Remember those funny videos Vinny showed you-- something about a... hyper bear? You’re the true inheritor of the earth, believe in yourself.

“Front doors up ahead.” Trying to decipher the cryptic meaning behind the series of memes Vinny showed me once is cut short, Iadakan pushing the doors open for us. Humid air washes over me. If I hadn’t been trapped in a damp school all afternoon, I would’ve complained about how muggy it was. But, this was an improvement.

Mr. Iadakan only leaves my side once I’m holding onto the door handle of the taxi. “I’m sorry for all of this.”

I can’t look at him, but he sounds sorrowful. I try to ease his worries. “It’s alright, Mr. Iadakan. Just... make sure Olivia is alright. I don’t want her to worry about me.”

“Of course. Have a nice day.” His footsteps retreat back up the stairs, and I fumble with the door-- before finally pulling it open and collapsing into the back seat. As I predicted, it’s that nutcase chaueffeuring me.

“C’mon, c’mon! Get in here, kid. I got class in twenty! Where to?”

“Uh... my hous-” I can’t even finish the word before he hauls ass out of St. Hammond’s parking lot, throwing me against the side of the car. “Raptor Jesus-- slow down! Why’re you always so fast?!”

“It’s effective, Faster ride times, more fares! Buuuuut, I’m late for my driving lessons today.” I’m slid across the seats and forced up against the other side after a particularly nasty turn. I would’ve liked to buckle in, but It was hopeless trying to find the seatbelt in all this chaos.

“Lessons- DRIVING lessons? Do you not know how to drive?”

“Of course I do! I’m the instructor!” My jaw drops.

“What’s up with you, anyway? Where’d those shades you always have on go? Gotta be honest, too-- you look like shit.”

I just sigh, resorting to holding onto the overhead carrying handle for stability. “I’ve had a long day.”

“Ahuh. Sorry to hear, buddy.” A particularly rough series of turns and blaring car-horns that quickly fade into the background stir the pressure in my head. I’m almost home, just keep thinking about home. I rest my head against my elbow, leaning on the door. 

“Hey--” The driver speaks up, having stopped the car. Maybe at a red light? “Why not come down with me one day? You look about that age, and we can probably fit another student in class.” 

“Be real nice cruisin’ ‘round town with that girl of yours, eh?” I can visualize the smirk and snarky wink in my head.

My face heats up-- I hadn’t even thought about Trish as of late. My thoughts are a mess, I stammer like crazy. “I-I... uh, we’re not d-dating, really. Not at all.”

I rub my forehead, my headache growing worse by the minute. The driver sighs, sounding disappointed. “Oh. My bad, kid. Should’ve guessed after she wheeled outta ‘yer place like that the other day.”

...

Wait.

All at once, it hits me. How close she was when I was in bed. How she acted at my house. How--  oh, Raptor Christ. Does... does Olivia have a crush on me? There’s no... oh God there is a way. Oh crap. Another girl has a crush on me. My blush gets worse, and I try to hide it by turning to face the window-- even though my eyes are closed. My head is spinning, made worse by what I’ve just realized.
 
The drivers doesn’t seem to notice my panic. What if I’m overreacting? Maybe she doesn’t-- but what if she does? Is that why she... she doesn’t think me and Trish are- are dating ourselves? Is that why Olivia acted out like-- Does Trish think we’re dating? Fffffffff... firetruck. Crap. Craaap.

I’m not allowed any time to freak out over the matter any longer, the taxi abruptly stopping again-- I’m nearly tossed into the seat in front of me. “We’re here, skedaddle. I’d help you outta the car, but I seriously gotta blast.”

“And, here.” Something small impacts my head, sliding off into my jacket. Did he just throw a card at me? “Keep that, gimme a call sometime. Now, scram!”

Fumbling with the door, I manage to get it open and blindly stumble forward, somehow not tripping over the curb. I don’t get to shut the door before the taxi speeds away. I don’t care how dangerous that could be, I just want to get home. Which requires seeing.

Forcing my eyes open the tiniest bit, I approach the keypad to my gated community, successfully inputting my code and opening the side gate. One final trek before I’m free, a half-blind journey about twenty yards to my house. Maybe I can just take a nap in someone’s driveway, I’m sure my neighbors won’t mind.

Minutes later, I slump up against the inside of my front door-- closing it with my foot. I was home. Finally.

Gathering the strength to limp my way to the couch, it was almost too much. My stomach was killing me, I couldn’t see, I had a headache-- it’s like every sense of mine was under attack. Quickly snatching a pair of emergency non-prescription sunglasses out of a bowl near the door, I waddle into my living room and collapse into my couch.

Sweet, sweet release. Cool, soft cushions, and pillows that don’t scratch my head. It feels like I’m laying on a crowd-- I’m never taking after-school naps for granted ever again.

A ‘ding!’ erupts from my pocket. A notification from my phone, something I’ve become wired to jump in excitement at the sound of. I hope one of the blogs I follow has been updated, that’s really what I need right now. A nice doomscrolling session before I clock out for the rest of the day.

Digging around in my pants, I fish out my phone and take a second to check it for damages. After confirming it isn’t scratched or cracked, I turn it on and read my notifications bar.

To my surprise, it wasn’t one of my blogs. Or even a Yousnoot upload. It was Trish, sending me a text-- which was a hell of a lot better than what I was expecting. I almost miss my phone in my haste to tap the screen and respond.

T: “heyy”

T: “hru >:D”

I: “Not good, sadly. I got beat up at school.”

She responds... immediately. The fastest I’ve ever seen her do so.

T: “omg wtf?? r u okay?”

I: “Mostly. I mean, nothing was broken. I’m pretty banged up, though.”

T: “that’s crazy”

T: “did u win?”

I guess that’s a valid concern. I don’t think I did, but I can’t risk showing myself as weak. That’s how predators get you.

I: “Win what?”

T: “the fight”

T: “u fought back rite?”

I: “...Maybe.”

T: “lol good”

T: “don’t let ppl walk all over you”

My pride has been maintained. I’m so cool.

T: “my day kinda sucked too tbh :(((”

I: “Tell me about it.”

I don’t mean to compare and contrast, but a surprise English quiz doesn’t sound nearly as bad as getting beaten within an inch of your life. Even if her teacher doesn’t actually speak English, or so she claims. Of course I wasn’t going to tell her that, but...

I: “Dang. I know the feeling, I’m sorry.”

T: “ur good”

T: “hey u know what we should go out!!! theres this salon place my mom goes to sometimes”

My breath catches in my throat as I read her text. That’s not what she means, get your head out of the gutter.

T: “u sound like u could us e a spa day”

T: “fuck use”

I: “Sure. That sounds nice. How does tomorrow after school sound?”

T: “suree”

T: “k ttyl i got shit 2 do”

I: “See you.”

I turn my phone off after a moment, finding myself grinning like an idiot. Even though she... definitely didn’t mean it like that, the thought of going out with Trish gets me giddy. Especially if it’s for a self-care day, I could definitely benefit from a massage or something relaxing like that. My stomach rumbles, reminding me of how hungry I am.

Going to throw a leg off the side of the couch, that realization the taxi driver imposed on me hits me again. Two girls potentially have crushes on me-- with one it’s plain as day. Just like that, my life has turned into a cheesy high school movie. Strangely, I don’t feel like I’m about to explode like I did in the car. Maybe it was motion sickness.

I’m sure it was just an overreaction.

Now, I think an evening of store bought frozen pizza and a retrospective on an old game series sounds just about perfect for me. Reaching down and tugging on the collar of my undershirt, a change of clothes doesn’t sound too shabby either.

Chapter Text

It’s kind of funny. In a way, I sort of got that fame I was looking for when I first moved here. Though, like everything else that’s happened to me, I wasn’t expecting it to be like this.

‘This’ being getting strange looks from every person I passed by on my way to the train this morning. Even now, the usual roster of passengers in my car all took their turns doing a double-take on me. I knew why-- obviously. I look like a walking seat-belt safety advertisement. The nurse probably could have gone a little lighter on the bandages, I doubt what Mia did actually looks... that bad. Reaching up and gently adjusting the gauze around my forehead, I accidentally press down too hard and wince in pain. 

As morbid as it is to say, I’m glad she didn’t break my nose or anything. I can’t risk my dashing looks being tarnished permanently.

Har.

Heck, even Trish was concerned about me. We got to talking during my ritual of texting everyone I know good morning, and she found out how screwed up I was. Couldn’t decide between feeling touched or surprised when she demanded to video call and see for herself, doubly so when she asked me to lift my shirt to see the bruises on my chest. I didn’t even realize what I just did until after she hung up to deal with her siblings. Ugh, I can feel my face heating up just thinking about it. Be rational, Inco. It wasn’t for that. Or... like that. Trish was just concerned, nothing more. More importantly, my injuries gave her an idea for later today. It might be bold to call it a date, but...

She wanted to take me to a salon owned by her mom’s friend. It was primarily a horn salon, but it also did other spa treatments, such as massages, which sold me on the trip. A massage sounds fantastic right now, and I’m sure I'll feel twice as strong about it once I get home from school.

Raptor Christ, school. Limping around for half the day feeling like crap, on top of all the gossip that’ll spread around because of me. I have no doubt they’ve already seen all the damages from Mia’s outburst, the storm, and whatever Mr. Iadakan did. I’m sure I’ll get dragged into Scaler’s office for an interrogation at some point.

Other than that, all I should have to worry about is... Mia.

God forbid she shows up today, let alone tries to to talk to me. Goosebumps crawl up my arms, gathering into a tingling sensation on the back of my neck. Maybe if I’m lucky, she’ll mistake my hail-mary distraction that started my ass-beating for actual fighting skill and leave me alone.

Before I can ruminate on the hellish day ahead of me, a presence takes its spot in the seat directly next to me. Taking a wild guess, I lift my head out of my hands and look-- yeah. Mr. Ferris was riding with me today, and he’s currently squinting at his tiny flip phone while fat-fingering the keys.

Distracted, he mumbles out a greeting. “Good morning, Inco.”

“Hey, Mr. Ferris.” That came out a lot more dejected than I would have liked. I guess my mood is soured from all the dreading I’ve been doing.

“What’s the mat-...” He puts his phone down, stunned into silence after noticing my current state. “Oh my. What’s happened to you?”

“I uh...” My hesitation doesn’t soothe the concerned expression on the whale’s face. I don’t see any point in beating around the bush, I guess. “I got beat up at school.”

Mr. Ferris’ concern contorts into a handful of different emotions. Confusion, pity, and the faintest hint of anger. He finally settles back on confusion after visible deliberation. “Who did this to you?”

“Mia.” There’s a pause, Mr. Ferris tilting his head in contemplation. Crap. He probably doesn’t know who I’m talking about. “I- uh, sorry. Mia Moretti. She’s a...”

I lose the words, but Mr. Ferris answers for me. “A problem case.”

“You could say that.” 

“Yes, Ms. Moretti-- she must be the reason I got a call earlier.” He rubs the flat tip of his snout, sighing. “Someone went on a rampage just after school ended yesterday. The lockers outside of the second floor elevator were wrecked, several art pieces made for the contest a while back were torn to shreds-- including yours.”

“And, the display case outside of the principal’s office was completely destroyed, along with Ms. Halford’s prized painting and the rest of the trophies within.”

Mr. Ferris sounds winded just explaining what all the damages were. I suppose the school pinning the blame on Mia makes sense, albeit at my own detriment. She’s bound to get suspended, maybe even expelled for all of this. Right?

“Well, I’m glad she took most of her anger out on our stuff and not me.” I sheepishly rub my chest, deciding to follow along with the narrative.

“Why did she attack you?”

“I-...” I stutter, turning to look the other way. Should I just tell him about her blackmailing Olivia? Of course not, no. Against my better judgement, it’s a bad idea to blow this even further out of proportion. I’m sure someone with proper authority will drill an answer for my injuries out of me later today. “Guess she just woke up on the wrong side of the bed? I don’t know.”

My jab at making light of the situation goes over poorly. Mr. Ferris just sighs, shaking his head. “Your injuries look severe enough to press charges.”

He’s not wrong. I sit up, reminding myself of how black and blue my torso is. As much as I’m pissed off at Mia for what she did to me and Olivia... that’s the thing. Olivia. I can’t guarantee that Mia won’t follow through with her blackmail if she has nothing left to lose. I don’t think its worth risking her art career for me.

It’s best to just bite my tongue and sweep it under the rug. “No. I’m uh-- I’m a live and let live kinda guy.” Putting on my best winning smile, Mr. Ferris doesn’t pry any further.

“Just making sure you’re aware of the option, Inco. I’m sure the school will see to her being punished for the damages nonetheless.”

“Not trying to play devil’s advocate...” Sow the seeds of doubt, maybe this whole thing will wash over harmlessly. Mostly harmlessly. “But aren’t you kind of jumping the gun? You’re not sure she did all that, are you?”

Mr. Ferris palms his snout again. “You’re right, I’m getting ahead of myself. I’m simply a little overwhelmed.” He adjusts his tie, giving me a tired smirk. “Seems like it’s event after event with St. Hammond.”

“Seems like it. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, please. I’ve had much worse. You know...” What followed next was a long-winded story about a particularly troublesome school he inspected a few cities over. It was a thrilling story and all, sure-- but there’s something about listening to an old guy spin a tale that gets my eyelids droopy. I found myself struggling against the urge to nod off, the bumps in the train tracks rocking me back and forth to sleep.

Before I can keel over and take a nap on the probably filthy train car floor, a gentle pat on the shoulder and witty chuckle snaps me out of my daze. “Am I really that boring, Inco?”

“Oh-- uh, no. Sorry, that was mean.” I push my sunglasses up onto my brow, rubbing the sand out of my eyes.

Mr. Ferris chuckles. “You’re fine. I know I can get a little dull on occasion.”

As I recover from the stereotypical boomer pat on the back, an electronic ding rings out through the train car, followed by a robotic voice mispronouncing St. Hammond. Guess I lost track of time-- chatting with Mr. Ferris has that effect on me. The whale in question rises out of his comically undersized chair, offering his hand out to help me up. I don’t hesitate to take it and barely have to work to get pulled out of my seat.

Mr. Ferris continues to assist my walking, letting me lean on him as I slowly shuffle down the stairs leading from the platform. Raptor Christ, how am I gonna get around school like this? Olivia’s not gonna be here, so I can’t take the elevator with her. Visages of poor little me crawling up the stairs on my hands and knees cycle through my head, egging on a stress knot trying to form in my gut.

“You look uneasy, Inco.” I’m brought out of my existential dread by the concerned voice of Mr. Ferris, having stopped just ahead of me. “Do you need to sit?”

“I’m good.” I thumbs-up the whale, which was enough for him to keep going. I’m most likely gonna be fine at school, I’m sure Damien or someone will drag my sorry behind up whatever stairs I need to get up. I can probably squeeze my way out of PE too, if Solly is feeling merciful.

It dawns on me how hard I’m banking on my injuries looking severe enough to excuse most of my effort today. I don’t feel... that awful. Kind of. It’s still probably a good idea to try and play it up, maybe score some pity points from the teachers. 

Mr. Ferris checks his watch, wincing. “Ah, I believe I’m running a little late. Do you think you can make it on your own?”

Averting my gaze to the sidewalk, I click my tongue. Might as well get used to hobbling around on my own sooner rather than later. “Yeeaah. I’ll be fine.”

“Very well. Don’t push yourself.” With that comforting piece of advice, Mr. Ferris speedwalks off towards the school.

I pocket my hands and watch as he disappears around a corner, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the occasional chilly breeze. I really ought to look into my winter outfits, it’d be shameful going out of style at a pivotal time like this. Not sure anyone really appreciates my exquisite taste in fashion though, I can only think of a handful of compliments I’ve received since I got here.

Having distracted myself from the discomfort of the long trek by successfully spacing out, I find myself approaching the mural adorned main entrance of St. Hammond. A small group of students are scattered about the stairs leading up to the front doors, talking among themselves. They shoot me looks as I trudge past, and I do the same. Why are there so many people outside? The bell should have rung almost ten minutes ago.

Whatever, that’s their problem. I stride right on up to the double doors, going to shove them open--

...

They won’t budge.

Another few pushes, nothing. Quickly running out of ideas, I try pulling on them as well. Still, they remain locked.

I suppose the school being closed would explain the crowd of people milling about the steps. Mr. Ferris didn’t mention it being closed-- did I miss another announcement? Caught up in my thoughts, I don’t realize someone was approaching me until I feel their hand on my shoulder. The gesture sends a chill up my spine, and I frantically turn around to confirm it’s not who I think it is.

“Inco, my guy!” I turn to see Damien’s reassuring grin, instead of the scowl of an angry parasaur girl. Phew. “How you doing?”

“Hooh.” I sag, utterly relieved. “Hey, Damien. I’m good.”

“Glad to hear, brotato.” The beacon of positive vibes steps away, folding his arms and rocking back and forth in place.

“So, uh-- Why’s the school locked?” Stepping aside, I motion to the door and jiggle the push handle a couple times to demonstrate. I had a handful of educated guesses as to why we weren't allowed in, but maybe he had a more clarifying idea.

“Dude. Duuuude. You’re gonna need to sit down, it’s crazy.” Damien turns on his heels, pausing in the middle of his over-exaggerated animation. He whips back around and looks me over from head to toe. “Why do you look like that?”

“Huh?” I reach up and touch my forehead, briefly forgetting about my current state. “Oh, right. Uh... you’re gonna want to sit down.”

“I said it first, you sit. Besides, you look like you’re one strong wind gust away from toppling over.” Damien folds his arms, motioning over my body with his pointer finger.

“Just-- come on.”

We both take a walk away from the group of students by the stairs, ending up sitting underneath the railing. Awkwardly fiddling with my hands, I struggle to string together the events in my head. I wasn’t sure how much I should tell Damien-- but he does deserve to know. I can probably just omit Mr. Iadakan’s involvement, just to be safe. 

Damien leans in like an excited puppy as I take a deep breath. “Mia strongarmed Olivia into doing her schoolwork.” 

All the intrigue drains from his face instantly, replaced with shock. His fist clenches up after he processes it further, baring his teeth. “She bullied her into doing some group projects for Mia and her friends, to try and keep it simple. I found out, and Olivia and I talked about it. We decided on telling Mr. Iadakan.”

“And, uh... on the way there, Mia found us. Scared the hell out of me, I panicked and... and hit her. She hit back, I ended up in the nurse’s office throughout the entirety of the storm.”

I stop to collect myself, the memory of everything that happened yesterday getting me emotional.

“Holy shit.” Damien breaks the silence, his mouth agape. “Are-- holy shit! You’re the reason Mia freaked the hell out yesterday!”

“Huh?” I can’t help but return his intrigued puppy-dog lean.

“She almost flattened a couple kids trying to get outta school. Like, full-on olympic sprinting. I didn’t really pay attention, but... wow.” He mumbles something, just barely loud enough for me to hear. “...that’s why Olivia looked like shit.”

“I was too busy being hospitalized to really figure out what happened afterward.” I shrug, sheepishly rubbing the back of my neck.

“Yeah, yeah. Olivia came home looking completely miserable last night, I never got a chance to ask her why. Guess that’ll do it. Damn.”

He reaches over and gently pats me on the back. “Sorry she did that to you, bro.”

“It’s fine. So, why is the school closed?” We got a little off-track, even if it was important.

Damien’s eyes widen, and he smacks the side of his head. “Crap. Uh, yeah-- that. The lockers outside the elevator Olivia uses got completely trashed, along with a lot of other stuff. The trophy cabinet outside the principal’s office, some other paintings-- and they’re handling the damages from the storm too.”

Huh. That would be a good reason to close up shop for a day, and his explanation lines up with Mr. Ferris’.

“They mentioned it in our email this morning, dude.” Damien pulls his phone out of his pocket and checks the time, standing up off the floor and leaning on the railing.

“Oh.” Was all I could manage to think of in response. “Wait-- then why are you here?”

“I had a hunch you’d miss the email and show up anyway. And I needed to get my steps in.”

Am I seriously that predictable? “I-- uh... thanks.” I hang my head in shame, disappointed in myself. This is the second time he’s had to break the news to me, all of that effort pulling myself together this morning was for nothing.

“No problem, boblem.” Damien chuckles at his own weird line, shooting me an aggressive and cheesy thumbs-up. “Alright, I gotta bail. Liz is picking me up, we’re gonna go eat.”

Almost on cue, the Lizmobile-- patent pending-- pulls into the parking lot.

“Bingo. Later, Inky!”

Liz can barely get her head out of the window before Damien slips under the railing and tramples through a patch of dense foliage in his haste to get to her car. We both look at him like he’s an escaped zoo animal, but soon enough he hops into the passenger seat and the car rolls out of view.

It felt kind of good to get that off my chest. Even if it wasn’t that big of an explanation, and if I left out a few details. But, at least someone else knows, especially someone I think both Olivia and I can trust. It might not hurt to check with her though. Pulling my phone out of it’s designated pocket, I realize the time. I need to get going if I’m gonna catch a ride back to my neighborhood, Olivia is gonna have to wait a little bit.

...

Thankfully, I was able to make it home without any issue. Well, sort of. I spent the afternoon fighting off muscle aches and a splitting headache, bouncing between laying down on my couch or in bed. I put off being glued to my phone screen, instead favoring background noise on my TV while trying to stave off the pressure building up in my skull.

It’s been an hour since Trish got out of school, and apparently she’s just doing some chores before heading my way. I was ecstatic, frankly. My prediction earlier this morning about being doubly excited for our trip to the salon was right-- I was heavily looking forward to it. My muscles are killing me.

Probably wouldn’t have hurt to get something in my stomach earlier today, too, but I starved myself on purpose. It’d be rude to have Trish go through all the effort cooking a meal for us only for me to eat half of it and get full. I wouldn’t consider my stomach small, but you can never be too sure. Plus, I do my best food critique on an empty stomach.

Huh.

On... second thought, I should maybe keep my thoughts to myself.

BING-BONG!

Good timing! With an obnoxious grunt whose volume could rival a sitcom father, I rise from my sofa-throne and slowly make my way to the front door.

Clicking open the small selection of locks adorning the space around the doorknob, I pull it back-- and Trish wastes no time letting herself in. She crouches, sliding right underneath my arm and shuddering. “Fucking shit, I’m cold.”

I shut the door behind her. “Hello to you too.” That causes Trish to freeze, and bashfully grab ahold of her arm. She turns to face me, her head hung in shame. 

“Sorry-- hi. Was in a rush to get here, it was windy as fuck.”

Trish is lucky she’s... uh. “I was kidding, you’re fine.” I dismiss the spat with a wave of my hand.

My apology brings a small smile to her face, which pulls a grin to mine as well. “I could’ve called you a taxi or something, you didn’t need to walk.”

Trish shrugs, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her hoodie. She’s wearing the same outfit she usually wears-- that thrifted yellow hoodie and track pants. I can’t judge, my outfits are all identical too. “And risk a ride with that crazy fucker if I don’t have to? Absolutely not.”

“That’s fair.” I really ought to ask that guy his name. He’s nice, even if completely reckless. “What are you gonna be cooking?”

Home-cooked herbivore cuisine sounds like an interesting process to help with, I could probably use the cooking experience too. But, Trish shoots me down. “Something. You’ll find out when it’s done, I wanna keep it a surprise.”

“Fine then, keep your secrets.” The reference flies over her head-- I don’t even get a smirk or eye-roll-- which was a little disappointing. I’m sure I can convince her to watch the movies at some point.

“I plan on it.” Trish nods in the direction of the couch, bringing her arms out of her pockets to cross them over her chest. “Go sit down, big guy.”

A certain feeling in my abdomen compels me to listen without a word of protest, and I do as she says-- retreating to the couch while she starts exploring my open-plan kitchen. I carefully fold backwards over the leftmost arm of my sofa, leaving my legs dangling over the edge and turning my attention to the TV. Only a few moments after I sink into the cushions, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I fumble around and struggle to fish it out thanks to the awkward angle, almost getting a cramp with how far I had to twist my torso.

I relax again, lazily setting my phone up on my chest and checking my notifications to see that Olivia’s texted me.

O: “Bad news”

I: “Whatsup?”

O: “Freezer raid was unsuccessful”

O: “Not one pizza roll in sight”

I: “Oh no. Leftovers. How awful and terrible. I’m so sorry.”

I place a ‘/s’ at the end of that message on instinct. Just before I hit send, I realize my mistake and hastily delete it. Can’t let her know I’m that cringe.

O: “Ill turn you into leftovers”

O: “Punk”

Olivia sends an image of her flipping the bird to a plastic tupperware container full of some kind of soup. I reply with a cute animated emoji giving a thumbs-up.

O: “Can you STOP”

O: “Omg you are so average”

O: “It’s painful”

I: “I’m like vanilla ice cream.”

O: "First, never disrespect vanilla ice cream like that"

O: "Second"

O: “Youre lucky i like vanilla”

There’s a break in her texting, presumably to prepare her meal. She messages again a few minutes later.

O: “So wyd”

I go to respond-- but hesitate. I probably shouldn’t ruin the vibes by telling her Trish is over.

I: “Being lazy.”

I: “So, uh. I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

O: “?”

I: “I told Damien about what happened yesterday.”

I: “Not all of it. Just, enough so he knows.”

Olivia doesn’t text back for a couple minutes. Did I mess up? Should I have asked her first?

O: “I know.”

Phew, okay.

O: “He almost choked me out hugging me when he got home today”

O: “Said he was sorry and stuff”

O: “You didnt tell him about”

O: ”Yknow”

I: “Of course not, I’m not that dumb.”

O: “Contrary to popular belief”

I: “Heeey.”

She sends that doodle of Guts flipping me the bird. I counter with yet another corny animated emoji throwing up a peace sign.

O: “Shut”

I: “I won.”

O: “Silence”

O: “Okay ill talk to you later”

I: “Bye.”

Turning my phone off, my reflection appears in the screen. I couldn’t control the grin spreading across my face, dropping my phone against my chest and letting out a content sigh. I was glad to put the drama behind us and return to having silly conversations like this again.

“All of your cabinets are dusty as shit!” Trish shouts, accompanied by the somewhat forceful slam of a drawer.

I’m surprised it took her that long to realize-- or say it out loud. “Sorry. I don’t do a lot of cooking.”

“No shit. It’s just frozen crap in here.”

Ouch. “I’m bringing my own supplies next time, this is pitiful.” Double ouch.

Straining myself, I sit up and crane my neck to peer into the kitchen. I catch a glimpse of the purple girl’s head bobbing up and down as she rummages around my cabinets, popping back up with a disgruntled expression. Trish throws her arms up and crosses the distance into the living room, tossing herself onto the other side of the couch.

“I can’t make anything with what you have.” She folds her arms, being so far sunk into the cushions that the horns on her crest threaten to cut into the fabric. After a brief moment of deliberation, she sits up and saves my cushions from destruction-- sliding across the sofa next to me. “Didn’t you mention ordering groceries and whatever all the time?”

“Oh yeah. That’s not such a bad idea.” Why didn’t I think of that?

We stare at each other for a few seconds, Trish breaking the contact with an eye roll. “Dude, are you gonna order the groceries?”

“Uh-- yeah.” I quickly look away and bury my head in my phone, swiping to my delivery app of choice. That is, until I realize I have no idea what she wants to cook. She did mention it being a surprise, so...

“You did say you were going to surprise me. Have at it.” I hand my phone off to her, and her eyes light up like a kid in a candy shop. She snatches it out of my grip and hammers away at the screen with both thumbs, rapidly assembling what looks to be a monster of an order based purely on how long it took for her to fill it out.

Eventually, my phone lands in my lap, a message displayed onscreen saying my order will arrive within thirty minutes-- with a hefty fee for express delivery, naturally. Looking up, Trish has nestled into the opposite corner of the couch, scrolling through her phone. Before pocketing my own, I steal a glance at the clock-- it’s about time for me to change my bandages.

I didn’t really have a set time, I was merely told to change them at some point after school, once every day. So, might as well pass the time and get it out of the way. I try not to let out another groan of effort, shakily rising from the couch and taking a moment to gather myself before setting off for the bathroom. “I’m gonna go change my uh... bandages.”

Trish nods in a slow and distracted manner, locked in on a mobile game from the looks of it. I leave her alone and continue my hobble down the hall, every step being carefully measured. Thank Raptor Jesus school was shut down today, I would’ve loathed having to walk from class to class like this.

Gently shouldering the bathroom door open, I flick the light on and get a good look at myself in a mirror taking up the majority of a wall. If I didn’t look like a total dork with my shades, or maybe had some muscle on my bones, I’d have thought the bandages would look badass. That is, until I lift my shirt and expose the two large discolored bruises on my stomach and chest. Thankfully, I just had to change out the gauze wrapped around my noggin, which was a hassle in and of itself seeing as lifting my arms above my torso hurt like hell. But, you gotta do what you gotta do. Shrugging off my jacket onto the floor, I follow it up with my shirt and take a moment to catch my breath, closing my eyes and letting my head hang.

Geez, it felt like I was gonna fall over. It wasn’t even that much effort, maybe I should be moving around more. It’s probably an iron deficiency or something, bleh.

“You good?”

“WHUH!?” I whip my head up to the sudden voice-- causing my neck to cramp in the process. I barely get a look at Trish before I’m forced to lurch my neck in the opposite direction, stretching out the muscles to skirt the pain. “Ow. Ow. Ow”

Leaning against the counter, I look up to get a look at the girl. Who’s currently looking at me, who doesn’t have a shirt on. Trish, me. Shirtless me. I stammer out a bunch of nonsense, to her amusement. “I- Well-- whum-- What?”

I was unsure if her reaction was a good thing or a bad thing. Instead of giving me a disgusted look and shutting the door, she just laughs. “Holy shit, relax. I was gonna help.”

“W-with what?” Instinctively, I reach down to grab my shirt to try and cover myself-- stopped by my stomach writhing in pain as I curl forward. Shhhhhh... crap.

“I know how hard it is to change that shit out alone. Just-- sit down, let me do it.” I don’t really have an option, or a chance to protest. Trish pushes me deeper into the bathroom, practically forcing me to lower the toilet seat and sit upon it. “You already showed me earlier too, dipshit.”

Oh, right. We called this morning. I guess it’s a different experience when she’s actually in the room staring at you. Man, I probably look like a loser freaking out this hard over a girl.

Reaching up, she hesitates-- looking off to the side, as if she wasn’t supposed to tell me this. “My uh... little brother, Riley. He had a... phase a couple years back.” I lean my head forward, giving her easy access to my head so she can undo my dressings. I was still a little nervous about her seeing me half-naked, but it was for a noble cause. I wasn’t going to complain about the free storytelling, either.

“Saw some commercial or something on TV-- I dunno, barely remember why. Just that he really got into skating for about a month. Even asked for a skateboard for his birthday. Of course, he got one. And a helmet, duh.” Couldn’t help but think skipping out on some elbow and knee protection was a little precarious, but hearing the smile on Trish’s face as she talked didn’t allow me to linger on that for long. “First afternoon out with it after school...”

She trails off, snickering and stepping away from me, leaving my head bare. Honestly, the damage wasn’t that bad. I think the nurse went a little overboard with the bandages. Doctor knows best, though. “Mom was still at work, so I got dragged out to watch him. And he--”

Her giggles devolve into a fit of laughter, and I turn my head to watch her break down. I think this might be the first time I’ve seen her laugh-- probably not. But, first time in recent memory. It looks good on her. “And- aha-nd he- just fuckin’ sends it down the courtyard. Turns his head back to look at me-- Heh.”

Trish closes the drawer she was standing next to, pulling out the roll of gauze I ordered just for this occasion. “And he fuckin’ eats it into a picnic table. Flips head first over it-- and falls flat on his back.” As she comes close again, she stiffens up. “Not really that funny when I think about it. I wasn’t really paying attention, let him get on it without his helmet. He busted his forehead open pretty damn bad.”

I wince on behalf of the poor kid. “Couldn’t get him to stop crying-- pulled him inside before the neighbors got pissy. Yelled at my siblings to... uh...” Trish mutters something I couldn’t make out.

“A-anyways, they left me and him alone. Patched his head up, and got my ass chewed out later when Mom got back from work. He told me he wished he got a scar from it, thought it’d make him look like a gangster. Thankfully it didn’t.” A... gangster? Is that the kind of crowd this Riley kid admires? That’s a first.

I clear my throat as she finishes applying the last layer around my head. “Wow. I’m glad he ended up alright, that sounds terrible.”

“Yeaaah. But, y’know. Fond memories and stuff. You get it.” Trish steps away again, tossing the bandages back into the drawer. 

“Sure, yeah. Uh-- thanks, by the way.” I stand up from the porcelain throne, gently picking at the fresh wrapping around my head. Trish glares at me, smacking my hand down with the speed of a wary mother. 

“Knock it off.” Her tone shifts to something venomous.

“Sorry, sorry.”

“You’re welcome.” I open my mouth to say thank you, but get the cold shoulder. She bails out of the bathroom, turning and slipping around the corner in seconds.

Maybe she didn’t mean to get that personal. Or... something. I couldn’t think of a justification that made sense to me right that second-- I’m sure it was nothing, though.

I emerge from the side bathroom, digging my fingers down the sleeves of my jacket to fix my shirt. Trish has resigned herself to the corner of the couch, leaving me plenty of space across from her. I briefly consider sitting next to her and making small talk, but decide it was best to leave her alone for now. 

My smart TV’s faded screen returns to full color after a quick shake of the remote. Flicking on over to Yousnoot, I half-mindedly click on one of the first six videos I see. Something about arts and crafts, easy enough content to play in the background while I twiddle my thumbs and wait for the order. Disappointingly, though, It wasn’t that entertaining. I only last a few minutes sinking back into the cushions before the person on screen talking about what they’ll be artsing and crafting in this video gets too boring for me to handle. I can’t help my refined tastes, I guess. Lazily lifting my arm up to the TV to try and change videos, I get interrupted.

“Holdup, I like this guy’s stuff.” Looking over, Trish has perked up and turned her phone off, her eyes glued to the screen.

“Oh. Okay, sure.” On second thought, I don’t have to pay attention to the video.

Even still, I found myself following along with the events playing out on-screen about as attentively as Trish was. Though, maybe a little too focused on her. I found myself throwing glances her way, wondering if I should do... something. I mean, she’s not focused on her phone. I did a good move, albeit accidentally-- I found something she was interested in.

Do I ask her questions? Trivia? Do I just shut up and enjoy the video?

I should probably just count my blessings that she hasn’t noticed my stupid looks yet. Once more, my impeccable taste in prescription eyewear proves useful in more ways than intended.

After a thrilling chase sequence involving a silly little cartoon character and a grasshopper that she found incredibly amusing, the doorbell rings. I was too slow on the draw, Trish instantly sprang from the couch and hustled for my door before I could get the groceries like a real gentleman.

Helplessly, I watch from over the back of the couch as she comes trotting back through my hallway with four bags under one arm, setting up shop in the kitchen and taking out the ingredients for what possibly looks like a salad. I saw a bag or two of mixed greens, but that’s all I could see from the awkward angle. Oh well, a surprise is a surprise.

It’d be in bad taste to try and peep from all the way over here. If I was going to ruin it like that, I might as well get off the couch and come help her make it. If she needed help, that is. I couldn’t cook for crap. She doesn’t seem to mind doing it alone, anyway.

Laying back, my back stretches out just right, cracking a handful of my lower vertebrae. It’s like an early preview of the massage place we’re going to. Or, was it a salon? I don’t actually recall which of the two it was.

I can hear Trish doing... stuff in my kitchen. One minute, a plastic bag rustles and the sink starts running. The next she’s opening and closing what sounds like every drawer and cabinet in there. I struggled to remember the last time someone in my house was cooking for me. It’s happened, sure. I fondly recall sitting in a past living room of mine just like this while my parents threw together a thanksgiving dinner years ago. I wonder if Trish cooks for her family? I imagine the brunt of the labor is split between her and her mom, but I’m guessing she’s no stranger to preparing meals on her own.

Heck, from the way she talks about her family-- and how they act towards each other-- maybe it’s not too far-fetched to view her as her sibling’s... mother? Parental figure? It doesn’t seem like her mom is always around to take care of her and her siblings. Does it make sense for that to fall on Trish, then?

Scents from whatever Trish is making waft into the living room. It’s not very potent-- but it is pleasant. Definitely something fruit-based, probably why she kept running the sink. I’m pretty sure that’s a thing you have to do, right? Wash off the fruit and stuff before you eat it? It would make sense. I’m sure there’s all sorts of pesticides and junk on produce.

I shut my eyes, trying my hardest to remember the factoids listed in various health awareness articles I’ve skimmed from time to time. I don’t get much time to do so, the clinking of ceramic against wood drawing my attention. Opening my eyes, Trish sets down a bowl of what appears to be fruit salad on the coffee table.

“Surprise.” She says, deadpan.

“Heck yeah, finally.” I sit up to get a good look at my meal.

It’s a fruit salad, plain and simple. Upon closer inspection, however, I realize one ingredient stands out from the rest. Among the sliced strawberries, whole grapes, and orange slices-- peeled segments of a strange purple fruit with black spots are strewn throughout the dish. Drizzled over top of all this is what I’m guessing is honey, completed with a sprinkling of cinnamon.

“What’s this?” I lean in closer to the bowl, briefly lifting my shades to get a full color examination of the mystery botanical meat.

“Prickly pear.” Trish sits down on the far side of the couch again, her own share of fruit salad in one hand and her phone in the other. “Cactus fruit, whatever.”

The name rings a bell. I remember seeing a mention of it in a magazine I picked up at a doctor’s office a few years back. These pieces must be what the inside looks like, since I recall the fruit itself being a lot spikier and more pink. Fascinating.

Instead of digging in immediately, I continue to study the fruit amalgamation. I pick up the fork dug into the side of the bowl and stab at it, tossing and turning the chunks and slices of fruit like some sort of demented culinary predator. Curiosity kills the cat, and I lift my head from the salad.

“It’s a unique choice. I wasn’t expecting something exotic like this, any reason why?”

She takes a moment to answer, depositing her fork into her bowl and pausing the video on her phone. “Family recipe.”

I was a little unsatisfied with the answer, but I’m getting special treatment with a family recipe. Not much to complain about.

“That’s really cool. I’ve never had cactus fruit-- is it good?”

I don’t get a response in words, rather instead a shrug and a mouth-full-of-food grunt. I suppose taste is subjective, I should probably just shut up and try it for myself. 

I spear a prickly pear peel down into a mass of other fruit chunks, quickly chomping down on the end of the fork.

Not too sure what I was expecting, but among the flavors I’m familiar with, this prickly pear brings something delightfully new to the table. The closest example I can compare it to is a salted watermelon. Each bite I took was more eager than the last. In hindsight, I don’t blame Trish for being quiet, this is delicious and deserves full attention. I didn’t even realize how quickly I was eating until my fork scratched the bottom of the bowl, most of the salad was demolished in a couple minutes.

“This is really good. Like-- seriously. Where’d you even get cactus fruit?” My lips are coated in fruit juice, to the point it’s trailing down my chin. I pluck a napkin off the coffee table and wipe my mouth clean as Trish perks up to answer.

“Some corner store by my house. Family owned.”

“Ooh. Do you know where they get it from?” Trish shrugs, which is fair. I make a mental note to do some internet sleuthing later and see if I can find this place for myself.

As I finish up my bowl, Trish checks her phone. She stands up and closes the gap between us, nudging my shoulder. “You ready?”

“For what?” I speak before I think. Right, she means the salon. “Oh, yeah. Let me take these to the dishwasher.”

Interrupting my attempt to stand up, Trish plants her hand on my shoulder, keeping me on the sofa. “Stay, I’ll do it.”

I think about protesting, but she seems rather firm on her decision. I relent and lower my head, letting her whisk our bowls away to the kitchen. Sitting alone on the couch, a thought crosses my mind. “Hey, how are we going to get there?”

Trish shouts back from across my house. “Take a guess, it’s the fuckin’ lunatic taxi driver!”

Ah. Well, she did say she wouldn’t take his taxi unless she had to.

Maybe it won’t be that bad if that particular driver decides to show up. At the very least, we’ll make it early. Probably with a traffic violation or three. What was his name, again? He gave me a business card, didn’t he? I could’ve sworn I tossed it into a drawer after finding it in my jacket this morning.

I drop my head into my hands and rub circles around my forehead, wondering if his insane driving will stir a headache. Maybe we won’t--

Somewhere deeper in my neighborhood, tires screech obnoxiously, followed by the abrupt killing of an engine right outside my door. Nevermind, screw it all.

Trish approaches me again. “You good?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I go to stand up myself, and end up getting assisted by Trish. She hooks her arm under mine and lifts me up, quickly retracting it into her pocket before... well, duh. I would too.

She follows closely behind me as I make my way outside, all the way up until we’re at the back of the taxi. I open the car door for her first, motioning her inside. “Your chariot awaits.”

“Dude, I called the taxi.” Trish scoffs, before jumping in and sliding to the opposite end of the car. I step in behind her and lower myself down into the seat.

Confirming my suspicions, the taxi driver’s head peeks around the front seat. “Hey, kids.”

His eyes flick from me, to Trish, and back again, a grin spreading across his snout. “Another girl over at your place, buddy? Pretty smooth.”

Trish’s head shoots up from her phone, shooting me a glare. “Another?”

I briefly consider throwing myself under the wheels once the car gets going. “I-- uh. What?”

The driver slaps the wheel, chuckling. “I’m messin’ with you two. Where we heading, again? That salon joint?”

Finishing trying to kill me with her eyes, Trish nods her head. “Y--”

“Got it.” She can’t finish her sentence before he floors it-- blasting down the street and through the actively closing gated entrance. I frantically grab onto the handle attached to the roof, trying my best to recall a prayer to Raptor Jesus. Trish does the same, but is much more casual about it.

“So, shades. You think about my offer?” I can barely hear him over the sound of car horns and rubber burning against asphalt.

“Uh... yeah. I did. I think I’m gonna sit on it for a bit longer.” Despite the bumpy ride and my white-knuckle grip on the handle above me, my voice remained stable.

“I’ve got a lot of stuff going on, I wouldn’t want to overdo it.”

“Too much on your plate, eh? Sure, fine by me.” The car slams to a halt, oncoming traffic being just too thick for him to risk plowing through, shockingly.

“What uh... what was your name, again?”

He looks up at me through the rear-view mirror, raising an impressively long red eyebrow. “Am I really that forgettable, kid?”

“N-no.” I couldn’t have possibly said that more guiltily.

“Heh. Don’t worry about it.” He turns around, extending his arm between the front seats towards me. “Monarch.”

“Inco.” While I’m shaking his hand, he glances at the road-- traffic having cleared. He quickly breaks the handshake and settles back into his seat, roaring out of the intersection to a fading cacophony of car horns.

I glance at Trish-- as always, staring at her phone. I’m filled with the desire to keep the chatter in the car going, rapping my fingers across my knee to try and shake a conversation idea free.

“So, are you learning how to drive yet?”

The question finally distracts her from the screen, yet she hesitates to answer. After a long pause, she settles into the seat. “Not yet. Haven’t really had the time.”

Trish looks out of the window, propping her elbow up on the door. “Or the money for lessons.”

“Do you work?” I fold my arms across my chest, also leaning back into the slightly sticky faux-leather seating.

“Yeah. Some convenience store by my house. Helps with the bills.” The tip of her tail, poking out from under her, reflexively smacks the seat.

“Oh. I’m sorry, that has to be rough.” I consider prodding further. Questions like-- ‘What do your parents do for work?’ or ‘Are you guys struggling?’ come to my head. For once, I have the self-restraint to not blurt out something stupid like that. I solemnly nod, leaving it be.

For the remainder of the ride, we both sit in silence, staring out the windows at passing buildings-- very quickly passing buildings. The clean and tidy view of high-income spaces in the city disappeared long ago, leaving the view sort of drab. It reminds me of that day I met Trish, driving to her school. Just as I was about to take a stroll down memory lane, the car slams to a halt, throwing both Trish and I against the front seats. 

“Have fun, you two.” Monarch winks at me through the rear-view mirror. I don’t give myself time to ponder the implications of the act, scrambling out of the door. Trish doesn’t even have to round the car to get to the curb where I am, since the taxi speeds off in seconds. She walks through the space where it once was and joins me on the sidewalk.

We were left off right in front of the salon, which looks... uh.

The words to describe the place that aren’t incredibly mean don’t come to me. Once again, I’m reminded of that day at Volcano High, particularly that... what was it? Skin-row? I’m reminded most of that neighborhood Mr. Iadakan drove through on our way there. It doesn’t look nearly as run-down as that area was, though.

I swivel my head around, studying each facet of the salon. The architecture is definitely a little dated, but that lines up with every other building I can see. And, unlike the rest of the street, this place has clean windows and lights seeping through the blinds.

Trish leaves me behind, pocketing her hands and turning to face me just as she approaches the glass door to the salon. “Dude, are you coming or what? The hell are you looking for?”

Another day, another missed opportunity for a good picture. The contrast of the salon and the atmosphere of this... nice neighborhood would have made for an impressive shot. I shake my head and call back to Trish. “Sorry, I was admiring the scenery.”

She gives me a strange look before pushing the door open, a bell hung atop the door frame ringing to announce her presence. I slip in behind the short girl, escaping the encroaching darkness into a cozy and well-lit space.

Trish leaves me to study my surroundings at the door, walking up to the front desk nestled in the corner of the room and ringing a call bell.

Cozy was an apt word to describe the place. It most definitely had that small, local business charm that I absolutely adored. Dominating one wall was a large selection of nail polish-- emphasis on the large. The entire display was taller than I am, showcasing what I can only guess was every available color ever released for this particular brand.

On the ceiling, every couple tiles had some sort of bush or vine hanging out of it, which coupled with tall and exotic potted plants sat in each corner of the room. I wasn’t sure if the flora on the ceiling was natural, though. They all had a sort of dull reflection to it, like plastic. 

Was that the case for all the plants incorporated into architecture for this city? Have I just not noticed yet?

I realize how silly I look-- intently studying the roof with a hand on my chin. Second-hand embarrassment hits me like a freight train and I shamefully pocket my hands, hanging my head and moving to seclude myself in the seating area. Before I can make it, an older-sounding voice calls me over towards the front desk. “Let me get a look at you, honey.”

I turn on my heel, hurrying over to the counter. Standing behind it is an indeed much older triceratops lady. Like Trish, her scales are purple as well-- though, more of a darker, royal shade of purple. And her snout horn is pierced, which I didn’t even know was possible.

She gives me a once-over, whistling. “Patricia, why didn’t you bring this boy here sooner? Look at him, you poor thing.” 

Trish shrugs, giving me a side-eye as if to confirm I’m still half-mummified. “It just happened, like... yesterday, right?” 

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Remembering my manners, I outstretch my hand across the desk. “Inco.”

“Oooh, what a charmer. Ruby.” She takes my hand, causing me to flinch with the sudden application of force. Crap, she’s got a strong grip. Offsetting the pain is how confusingly soft her scales are.

“What happened to you, anyway?” Ruby folds her arms, giving me a look only a concerned parent could match.

“I uh... got into a fight. Sort of-- I got attacked.”

“Oh, I am so sorry.” She shakes her head, making me feel guilty for telling the truth. “Did you win?”

The whiplash causes me to stutter. “W-what?” 

Both her and Trish break out into fits of laughter, and I’m compelled to laugh as well, though I have no idea why we’re doing so.

“I’m messing with you. How long have you two known each other?” Ruby leans onto the counter, rapping her claws across the ceramic.

“A couple months. We met at her school, actually. I was doing a photo-shoot there.”

“You’re a photographer?”

“I am!” Like anyone else, I’m always happy to flex my interests. “Do you want to see some of my work?”

“Absolutely!” She reaches under the desk, pulling out a pair of readers and leaning over. I quickly pull out my phone, swiping to the small collage of downloaded favorites from my portfolio-- saved just for occasions like this.

Scrolling through a handful of the pictures, Ruby nods approvingly. “These are very impressive! Talented at such a young age, too.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” I put my phone back into my jacket.

“Now, let’s get you two handled. What are we thinking for today?” Ruby motions to a chalk board behind her,  detailing a handful of spa packages we can pay for. 

Initially, I’m drawn to the most expensive option, a gauntlet through pretty much every service the place offers. Mostly because it was the only package that included a massage, which is what I came here for to begin with. Admittedly though, a skincare treatment does sound pretty relaxing.

Just to be sure, I decide to confirm with Trish. “What did you want here, anyway?”

“Just some horn care, my crest, and...” She glances down at her hand, examining her claws. “My hair and nails?’

On second thought, we don’t need a package after all. Wouldn’t be getting my money’s worth on my end. “Sounds good to me.”

“Trisha, honey, you mentioned a massage for him over the phone-- that, and your usual will work?” Ruby taps a few buttons on a screen set off to the side of the counter.

“Yeah.” Looking at Trish, there’s something different about her. Her eyes are lit up like I haven’t seen since that time I met her and her friends at the mall, and I have to look away before I get caught staring.

“Mmmmhm.” She spins the screen around, showing me my total. Even in the triple digits, I don’t really mind. A twinge of soreness spreading throughout my shoulder as I lift my card up to the scanner cements that indifference.

Ruby turns the screen back her way, clasping her hands together and thumbing her wrist. “Alright, go ahead and sit down, baby. I’ll get your massage set up.”

I’m left alone as Trish is taken deeper within the building. As instructed, I take a seat in the sparsely populated lounge area by the door. There’s only one other guy here, also a triceratops. I settle back into the chair and start to doomscroll, killing time the only way I knew how.

A strange feeling overtakes me, like I was being watched. Which I was. Lifting my head, the light-green scaled man across from me quickly averts his gaze back to the magazine he was reading. I blink a couple times, receiving one final glance before the stranger tosses the magazine onto a side-table and stands up. He’s quick to leave, albeit giving me one final nasty look before disappearing through the door. 

That was... off-putting. What a weirdo.

After a few more minutes of browsing short-form content, Ruby pokes her head around the corner. “It’s ready, hun.”

I put my phone away and push myself out of the chair, briefly stumbling. Just as I catch myself, Ruby fully comes around the corner and helps me get steady with a hand on my back. “Can’t believe someone would do something like this to a sweet young man like you.”

“It’s okay, I kind of asked for it.” I am so dead if Mia catches me alone.

Ruby walks me towards a door around the corner. I catch Trish sitting in one of those hair-washing basin chairs, her hair and crest dunked in soapy water. I consider waving hello, but she’s scrolling through her phone. Opening the door for me, I barely get to process what’s inside before I’m hit with a wave of incense like a hammer to my nose.

“God, that’s powerful.” I cough into my sleeve, slowly adjusting to the scents assaulting my nostrils.

“Sorry about that. You enjoy yourself, sweetheart.” Ruby pats me on the back before shutting me in the room. Candles line the walls, with more vines hanging dangerously close to the wicks. It was a very, very cozy atmosphere.

Exiting a storage closet across from me, a short Pachycephalosaurus man squints at me-- speaking in a thick accent. “Hello, hello. So sorry about the smell.”

“Oh, you’re fine.” It was dark enough in the room to the point I felt comfortable enough to remove my sunglasses, carefully folding them up and storing them in my pocket. It was strange, not seeing everything get drastically brighter and overwhelming when I took my shades off.

The man rolls out a towel across a massage table in the middle of the room, motioning me towards it. “Come, come.”

I was familiar with how these worked. While he finishes setting up, I pull my jacket off and hang it on a coat rack next to the door, followed by my shirt. It’s funny how your brain works, depending on the scenario. I was perfectly fine with stripping down to just my pants in front of a complete stranger, but I freak out if it’s in front of a friend. Or a girl.

The stocky gentleman performing my massage looks me over, instructing me in partially broken English. “You look like a car accident. Remove bandages.”

I un-mummify myself as told and get another scrutinizing examination. “Why so many? You look fine.”

“Uh... good question. Just kind of did as I was told.”

“Mmm.” He shakes his head. “Lay down.”

I clamber onto the table and carefully lay on my stomach, sliding my head into the padded slot and resting my arms on a platform below. I probably should’ve grabbed my phone or something, staring at my hands gets boring after awhile. But, it’s too late. Cold-- very cold-- hands press down on my back and start to lather it in some sort of oil.

Was it awkward not not talking? I guess small-talk isn’t customary during something like this but without a phone to distract myself, I feel like I should be saying something.

Man, this actually is really comfortable. Dark room, warm lighting, the occasional jolts of pleasure-pain from a particularly tight spot or bruise being pressed on. Almost enough to fall asleep to.

Almost, I think.

I mean, it’s not awkward. I’m sure it happens all the time.  It wouldn’t hurt.

Totally.

...

I glance towards the door to the massage room, dreading that Inco would come out any second now. Fucking hell, it took this long just for a minute alone from him. I knew what I was signing up for, dragging my ass over to his house and spending my free time making dinner. But, wow. He is clingy.

Thankfully, at least for like, an hour, he’d be gone. Hopefully long enough for Ruby to finish working on my crest in peace. I look up from my lap, watching her circle around the back of my chair in the mirror. She has a bottle of expensive looking oil in hand, the good shit I only get to look at when in the self-care section at the store.

It’s been a minute since I’ve had the time to get a treatment like this. When money isn’t tight, this is something me and Mom would do every other month or so-- but, that’s the thing. Money’s tight. Thankfully, that skinnie isn’t entirely good for nothing. He knows how to treat a girl, even if it’s almost purely through cash.

Closing my eyes, I try to clear my head. It doesn’t take long for Ruby to finish work on my scales, just a once-over with that stuff is fine. She moves onto the especially relaxing part, gently filing down the ends of my horns. That was my main concern, mostly. Getting too damn pointy even for my tastes.

I’d worry about the filings getting in my freshly styled hair, but Ruby had me covered-- literally. There was a blanket tied loosely around my head, leaving my face and horns exposed.

Ruby lets out a hum, one of those cheeky gossiping older girl noises. “So, do you like him?”

My eyes snap open, and I glare at my own reflection.

I knew some shit like this was gonna happen. Even if it’s not from Mom, people are gonna ask questions if they see me with a boy.

Fine, though. I’ll play. How do I feel about him?

Raptor Jesus, he’s fucking boring. He doesn’t do anything except go to school and sit in his lonely ass house all day. The place is sterile like a hospital or some shit-- no family photos, no signs of life. Compensates for his lack of personality by trying too hard whenever someone gives him a chance, he's like a flashy cardboard cutout. All he eats is store-bought frozen junk, he can’t even cook for fuck’s sake-- let alone clean his dusty ass house. I’d almost pity him for being a lonely loser if he wasn’t annoying as shit.

Oh, right. He’s not entirely lonely, he does have friends outside of me. Er-- one friend, at least. And she was a raging bitch that almost had a heart attack when I showed up at his place that night. Crazy gator... ugh.

“Well?” Ruby’s voice brings me out of it, and I realize I didn’t actually answer her. Play it off.

“Was just thinking-- I don’t... dislike him. He’s a good friend.” I have to fight to not grit my teeth as I say that.

“Right, right. So, bringing a boy here alone and having him pay for--” She pauses to focus on one of my horns. “--all of this, that’s just a friendly gesture, right?”

“Are you implying something?” I already knew where this was going.

“He’s bound to have an interest in you, sweetheart. Even rich kids won’t spend that much on a whim unless they’re arrogant, and he seems like the opposite.” I’m too deep in now, fuck it.

“I mean, he’s nice, I guess. I just... I don’t know if--”

“You’ve given worse people a chance.” Cringy memories of past ‘boyfriends’ make my face physically scrunch up in disgust. The fuck was I thinking with some of those dicks?

“I’m just suggesting, hun. Think about it. Maybe start with telling your mother about him, huh?” Ruby takes on a softer tone, she’s serious. Or focused on my horns, I can’t tell.

Great. She’s onto me about telling Mom too.

But, maybe I can take advantage of this. Showing him off as my sweet and naive boyfriend would make Mom happy, and he’d suck up to me harder if it meant getting to feel less lonely. I know how he is; he’s desperate for a chance like this. A fucking skinnie hanging out with my family-- just, bleh. I couldn’t make that shit up if I tried.

Then again...

“You’re being awfully quiet.” Get outta my head, fuck.

I act dejected, putting on a pout. Maybe she’ll pity me and drop it. “I don’t know.”

“He’s nice and all, yeah...” I rub my shoulder sheepishly, glancing at her through the mirror. She pauses her work to trade eye contact. “Just... I don’t know.”

“I think you two look cute together.” The quip elicits a literal knee-jerk reaction out of me, and I get a sharp flick to the back of my crest. “Stay still.”

“Sorry.” I grit my teeth, forcing myself to imagine anything other than the thought of Inco and I being ‘cute’ together.

“Your mother’ll appreciate a nice young man like him.” Ruby lowers her voice, giving me a nudge. 

“Plus, it has to be fun. Rich skinnie boy, falling head over heels for you-- I’m sure he’s offered to take you out to some fancy place for dinner by now, right? Done some expensive gift-shopping for you?”

“Turn your head.” She guides my head to look right, leaving me to contend with her begrudgingly sound logic.

Inco’s harmless, it... probably would be an okay idea to induct him. Just a little, I need to keep him at arm’s length in-case I have to bail.

I can keep managing him, so long as he doesn’t try to be Fang’s friend. Two fucking-- piece of shit skinnie monkey retards trying to invade my circle and drag her down would make me pop a blood vessel--

Relax, happy thoughts.

“...Maybe.” I put on my best thoughtful expression, dramatically looking off to the side. “It wouldn’t hurt to give him a chance.”

“I didn’t mean to pressure you, hun. Just a little wisdom, it’s not my boy to stress over.” Don’t you dare.

Ruby smirks. “Though, I wouldn’t mind getting a piec--”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up.” I kick my feet like a toddler, careful not to lean my head back and groan. She snorts, separating her hands from my horns so she can laugh at her own joke.

“Relax, sweetheart. Let an old woman dream.” Blegh.

After settling back down, it doesn’t take much longer for her to finish work on my horns. As usual, she did a fantastic job. 

“Thanks, Ruby.” I admire myself in the mirror, gently tracing around the base of my nose horn.

“Don’t mention it, sweetheart. Let’s see those claws.” I stand up out of the barber’s chair and make my way over to what’s basically a workshop for hands instead of machines or something. I take my seat opposite of Ruby and lay my hand down on a towel.

She plucks a nail brush off of a nearby shelf, taking on the quiet tone someone gets when they’re focused on something. “So, how’s the band going?”

“Oh! Right, I forgot to tell you. We’ve got our first venue planned.” I perk up, excited to shift topics.

“That’s great, honey!” Ruby looks up from my hand. “Even after all that equipment was stolen from your friend? Who was it-- Reed, right?”

Fuck.

I forgot about what happened with Reed. Some motherfucker broke into his van awhile back, lost most of the shit we owned outside of band class. Just when I got him out of my head, Inco crawls right back in-- he was the one that paid for all the replacement gear. 

“Uh... yeah.” Shit, think of something-- don’t mention him. “Our school is gonna lend us some stuff, said it wasn’t a big deal.”

“Awh, that’s sweet.” Ruby goes back to my claws, starting to file them down from probably-lethal to mildly inconvenient.

“It’s in a couple weeks, we’re set up for a pizza place. Fang’s uncle owns the joint.” Curious to see what that family tree looks like if a rex is her uncle. I can’t talk, though.

We spend the rest of the time it takes to do my nails talking about nothing. Well, obviously something, but it was small-talk. Basically on the same tier as trading ‘How was your day?’ with a stranger at a bus-stop or something. It was pleasant, don’t get me wrong. Just a hollow talk to pass time.

Just as she finished up, another pair of customers walked in, so Ruby quickly left me alone to admire myself in a hand mirror. Once again, as I expected, she did great. I looked great.

Doesn’t hurt to feel pretty every once in a while, I guess.

I stand up from the nail station and start to head for the front door-- stopping myself just inches away. Inco’s still getting a fucking massage, right. I let out a sigh and slump down in the chair closest to the door, crossing my legs and pulling out my phone.

Even as I try to distract myself, that damn skinnie is still on my mind. I guess pulling off a plan this convoluted does require a lot of your brainpower, to the point I’m struggling to keep up with it all. Losing sleep, doubting myself at every turn... At least Inco isn’t the worst monkey I’m forced to deal with on a regular basis.

Fucking cave-dweller, just thinking about Anon makes my blood boil. No way I’d be able to survive this if it was him I was trying to... yeah. I can actually stand a conversation with Inco in comparison-- clueless beats bigoted any time of day. He’s trying, that has to count for something and despite how much of a bumbling dummy he is, he at least means well.

Whatever. It’s been a hot minute, surely he’ll be done soon.

...

A muffled voice and a gentle nudge on the shoulder snaps me out of my incredibly relaxing nap, everything around me blurry and undefined. That includes my memory, that short period of amnesia you get after waking up lasting for a few seconds longer than usual. I mumble out a nonsense response to whatever was asked of me, bringing my arms up from the little platform and rolling over onto my side.

Just then, every vertebrae cracks like a glowstick-- causing me to flatten and sprawl out on my back like I just got shot. Holy... wow. I feel like a newborn baby, or a stack of melted wax. Weird analogies concocted by my hazy brain, I feel great.

I get tapped on the shoulder, my memory quickly coming back to me. Table, massage guy talking to me. Get up.

Sitting up, I rub my eyes and throw my legs over the side of the massage table, nearly falling over as I slide off onto my feet. I catch myself on the wall in front of me and slowly rise up out of my hunch.

“Thank you, come again.” Looking over my shoulder, the pachy man that performed my treatment relaxes his eternal squint, opening one eye and giving me a wave goodbye.

“Y-yeah, definitely.” I roll my shoulders and wince, still feeling the consequences of my own actions despite the newfound mobility in my loosened muscles.

I stumble away from the table and remove my clothes from a rack by the door, carefully dressing myself. My back was still a little oiled, making for an uncomfortable sensation as it stuck to the back of my shirt. Delicately nestling my sunglasses over my eyes while being careful not to disturb my exaggerated bandages, I straighten my collar and tuck my shirt to finish the ritual.

I bet I look so cool right now, trembling like a baby deer just from trying to put my clothes on. I could really use another nap, I think.

Pushing the door open, I realize I forgot what normal air smelled like after having my sense of smell tainted by incense for so long. Man, that’s good quality air. Trish is sat down by the door, once again watching something on her phone. 

Even from a distance, I can tell she had work done. Her horns are glinting like a jewelry store display, and her scales are noticeably brighter, making their violet color prevalent even through my shades. Her hair is styled differently too, more of a side-part instead of a bouquet of curls right in the center of her head.

Before I can triumphantly march over to the door, I decide to give my thanks to Ruby-- I think that was her name-- at the front desk.

I wave at her as I approach, and she leans against the counter. “How do you feel?”

“Much better. That seriously helped, thank you.”

“Oh, of course, honey. Don’t mention it. Or do, a little publicity never hurts.” Ruby grins and laughs.

I chuckle as well, trailing off and getting distracted by Trish stepping into view.

“You ready to go, big guy?” If the difference in her looks was obvious at a distance, she was even more stunning up close. I think out loud, blurting out a heavy-handed compliment.

“Yup. Hey, you look good.” I can’t tell if it landed or not, but she seems to accept it. 

“Thanks.”

Ruby cuts in, resting her chin in her palm. “You two have a good night, make sure to come back sometime.” She winks at Trish, who sticks her tongue out and makes a face in response. I can’t help but feel like I’ve missed something.

Trish goes to leave me behind, setting off for the exit. I mutter one last ‘thank-you’ to Ruby before chasing after her, cutting past her to the door just so I can hold it open for her.

She looks up at me as she passes through the door, rolling her eyes. “Dial it back.”

Caught with my hand in the cookie jar-- I realize I was probably being pushy. What even-- what am I doing? I’m treating this like-- she’s right. I keep my hands to myself as we get to the curb, Trish secluding herself in her phone.

We idle there for a good while. However long that was, I wasn’t sure. I felt too insecure to pull my phone out myself-- even just to check the time. Was the awkward tension in the air a mutual feeling? She didn’t seem too bothered. But, then again, it was always... difficult to read her emotions.

Or, maybe it’s just the atmosphere of this place. Aside from the light pouring out of the salon’s windows and the occasional functioning streetlight, tonight was pitch-black. Sitting in a neighborhood like this just makes my skin crawl, like some drug addict having a bad day is gonna jump the unsuspecting pair of teenagers while they’re distracted. Trish lives around here, right? How does she manage without getting jumpy like this? She’s completely unbothered, just scrolling away through her phone.

I reach up and tug on the collar of my shirt, finding it suddenly very hot. That irrational fear sitting in the back of my mind coupled with my recent fumbles makes me shuffle in place, enough to the point Trish looks up from her phone. Glancing at her, she fully puts it away.

“Yeah, this place has really gone to shit, huh?”

There’s something wildly different in her voice despite the harsh language. It’s softer, more intent behind her words, she’s not distracted by anything. I wouldn’t know if this part of the city is any different myself, I only moved here relatively recently. All I can do is tilt my head like a confused dog. “Has it?”

“Mhm.” Trish looks down, swinging her leg and scraping the underside of her boot against the sidewalk. “Pretty much been on a spiral since I was little.”

She turns to face me, slipping her hands into her hoodie pockets. “You get used to it, sure. But it was... different, back then. Never had to look over your shoulder every thirty seconds or carry fuckin’ pepper spray if you were alone, y’know?”

I wince at the grim explanation of how things were nowadays. I understand what she means though, it’s obvious that this part of town has seen better days. No place starts out looking dilapidated, right? Happens with the flow of time, eroding things away.

“Hell, when I was little, my favorite band had a concert not too far from here. Couldn’t imagine something like that happening today.” Trish perks up, and I’m happy to listen to the retelling of a fond memory.

“My dad... “ That energy slowly fades, her sentence trailing off into a mumble. She looks back down, her expression turning sullen. I don’t process what’s wrong until a scowl crosses her face, her breath drawing out in huffs of anger. She turns away from me, lifting her head to quietly glare straight ahead like something across the street offended her.

Crap, crap, crap. I gotta speak up.

Tiptoeing around the delicate integrity of our conversation, I gingerly ask her a question. “What band was it?”

Trish’s torso turns my way, but her eyes are looking at everything except me. She swallows, raising her voice and following along with my attempt to ease pass whatever harsh memory she was recalling. “You wouldn’t know them. But uh... I guess I could show you.”

She digs in her hoodie, removing her phone and turning it around to show... Snootify? I have that one installed, I think. Never used it, but, it’s there. She opens a saved playlist of hers, full of music from a band I most definitely did not recognize. 

“Huh. I mean, I wouldn’t mind taking a look if you wanna text me this playlist.” I shrug, placing my hands behind my back. “I’ve been kind of thinking about listening to more music, anyhow. You’ve... inspired me.” That wasn’t entirely truthful, but sharing an interest with a friend is probably what she needs right now.

With a slow nod, Trish turns her phone back around and takes it into both hands, battering at the cracked screen with both thumbs until my own cell beeps with a notification. Another spur-of-the-moment idea hits me to continue to lighten the mood. “While we’re at it, do you have any of your band’s stuff on here? I’ll listen to it too.”

Trish is taken aback by my effortless charm, both eyebrows shooting up. “Oh” She sounds surprised, like this was a first for her. “I mean-- oh. No, we just have physical copies, CDs and stuff. I can bring a couple next time we meet up.”

With that sort of empty-headed thoughtfulness one gets after an obvious realization, she mutters. “Do you even have a CD player?”

“Nooo.” I tilt my head in one direction. “Buut, I can get one. No big deal.” I lean back the opposite way, rocking side-to-side. I’m sure a cheapo CD player in the style of those portable ones from like, the eighties is all I’d need. At least until I can work in a trip to Premier Purchase for a proper player. Those exist, right? Big ol’ box set with speakers on it or something?

“Right, yeah.” Trish turns back to the road, letting out a transitional sigh. “Yeah. I should probably get home, my mom is gonna flip if I’m late.”

Cocking an eyebrow, I look past her in the direction she’ll be heading. “Do you want to call a taxi?”

“Oh, no. I live around here, I’m just gonna walk.” She jabs a thumb to her right, down the long and foreboding sidewalk. Trish’s comment about needing pepper spray to safely walk around this part of town rings through my head, but I bite back any comment about it. She probably knows what she’s doing, but I’ll double-check.

“Are you sure?” Remembering that weirdo guy in the lobby that left after I sat down makes me nervous on her behalf. But, she’s confident. I imagine she’s walked home from places around her several times.

“I’ll be fine. You gotta get yourself a ride, though.”

“That’s fair.” I bite the inside of my lip, a little disappointed we wouldn’t get to ride home together. Or, to her home. And then mine. “Alright.”

We both turn to face each other, staring one another down while I try to figure out who’s going to say goodbye first. Before I get the chance, Trish takes a step closer to me. Heat washes over my face as she reaches up and takes my forearm, yanking me down to her height. As I stumble to catch my balance, Trish leans in and gives me a quick peck on the cheek, quickly releasing me in an awkward hunched position.

In a cruel maneuver, she backs away from me-- turning on her heels and leaving me with a newfound pep in her step. A moment later, she glances over her shoulder and calls out to me. “Goodnight, Inco!”

Reeling from the overstimulating rapid series of events, I frantically straighten my posture and lock my arms to my sides, fumbling out a goodbye. “Buh-- I, uh-- goodbye!”

Despite how flustered I felt, there was a stronger feeling inside me this time around. Not embarrassment or just plain butterflies, but something else. Excitement? Joy? I couldn’t quite pinpoint it.

I don’t feel nervous. Why don’t I feel nervous? Or panicked?

I look up at Trish as she walks off into the distance, visible only in flashes as she passes in and out of overhead streetlights. My heart is racing like crazy, but again, I feel confident. Like I could take on the world or something silly like that. At this point, I think I’m okay with saying I have a crush on her. And, it’s probably safe to say she has one on me too.

I don’t waste any time ordering my taxi-- despite how I was feeling, I didn’t want to be alone in this place. Wearing designer clothes like this is just asking for something bad to happen.

My chariot arrives not five minutes after I called it-- and, as usual, its Monarch breaking every rule of the road he can in rapid succession. Despite how battered I look, I don’t find it difficult opening the car door and sitting down in the backseat. I was too lost in my own thoughts to focus on that or process the question he asked me when I got in the car.

“Sorry, what?” I blink myself back into focus, being met with curious eye-contact in the rear-view mirror.

“You look like you’ve won the lottery, kid. What’s with the big goofy grin?”

I guess I made it that obvious. “Good news, is all.”

“Hey-hey, sounds like the date went well. Good on you.” Okay, well, when someone else says it I can’t help but cringe. “Headin’ home?”

“Yeah.”

“Gotcha.” I brace for the sudden acceleration, only getting rustled around instead of thrown about like pocket change in a washing machine. All these taxi rides are probably taking chunks out of my allowance, I really ought to take up those driving lessons I was offered.

But, in the meantime, I should probably suck it up and start taking the train more. Volcaldera Bay isn’t the worst in terms of public transportation-- it’s just that all of the stations are a ways away from the places I find myself going to nowadays. It wouldn’t kill me to get some exercise in.

I lean my head against the window, watching a collage of old buildings zip by. Outdated architecture eventually gives way to modern design-- which then turns into high-end suburbs. I’m dropped off at the gate to my community with the urge to jog or sprint home, something to expel all the excitement. Settling instead for a night of music research on my couch with a bundle of blankets, I didn’t get halfway through trying to put in ‘CD player’ into the search bar before a realization dawns on me.

I am tired as heck.

Begrudgingly, I turn my phone off and lay it on the coffee table, settling my head down into the cushions and resting my eyes.