Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

---

My eyes shoot open.

No grogginess, no stretch, no sleep in my bones just wide awake like I never even slept.

That alone feels wrong. I’m not used to waking up like this. It already feels off.

Everything’s blurry.
And not just a little bit *wrong* blurry.
It hurts to focus.

I try anyway.

The first thing I see is… grass? No wait… a cliff?
Yeah. That’s it. A cliff.
Why the hell am I at the bottom of a cliff?

I push myself up, hands sinking into the grass. It feels too real. Wet, almost.
I glance around, but everything’s foggy. Like when someone shines a flashlight straight into your face in the dark.

> “Fuuuck... my eyes.”

I rub at them, like that’ll fix anything.
Doesn’t.
Everything’s still a blurry mess.

Maybe Sam was right. Maybe I *did* ruin my eyes with all that late-night gaming.
Great. Glasses now? That’d kill the style that Trish and I worked so hard on.

Whatever. I spot a big tree off in the distance its shape barely cutting through the haze.
Guess I’ll head there. Shade might help.

I start walking. The air feels heavy, like it’s pushing back against me.
Then I hear it.

Water.
Fast, crashing, angry. Not relaxing at all.

But before I can even think about that
I hear *something else*.

Crying.

No... *wailing*.

Like someone’s heart is being ripped out.

It freezes me.
Every part of me wants to turn around, get the hell out of here.
But... I can’t.

This dream whatever this is
I’m not in control.

I’m just *here*. Watching. Trapped.

Step by step, I get closer.
And it gets worse.
That tight, sick feeling in my chest? It won’t go away.
Like something awful’s coming, and I already know what it is.

I already *know*.

I push forward anyway.

And then I see them.

My dad.

On his knees.

I’ve never seen him like this before.
Not then. Not ever.
He’s breaking.

And next to him
Mom.

Her voice is shaking. Her hands are shaking. Everything about her is... *wrong*.

She didn’t deserve this.

None of them did.

*I* didn’t deserve them.

> “...please don’t leave us... please... oh Raptor Jesus, please, honey, tell me you’ll save him...
> he can be saved, right? Please... please tell me he’s okay...”
> "RIPLEY, PLEASE!"

That scream punches right through me.

This is it.
This is *the* moment.

The one I never talk about.
The one that made me wish i wasn't picked.
The one that *ruined* everything.

**The accident.**

The one I caused.

I want to move.
Run to them. Stop it. Say something.
*Anything*.

But I can’t.

It’s like I’m not even in my own body anymore.

Like if I was in the passenger seat before, now I’m not even in the damn car.
Just stuck watching it crash in slow motion.

My family...
the people who gave me a second chance,
who made me feel like I belonged

they’re kneeling over my baby brother’s body.

He’s gone.
And it’s my fault.

I want to scream. I want to tell them I’m sorry.
But my mouth won’t open.
My legs won’t move.

I just stand there. Frozen.

Watching.

Again.

Like some sick punishment, over and over.
Is that what this is?

Rewatching the worst moment of my life until I can’t take it anymore?

Yeah...
I probably deserve it.

I shut my eyes.
Tight.

Maybe if I can’t see it—
Maybe it’ll stop.

But I still hear her.

> *Mom’s voice.*

Please, no. I can’t—
I don’t want to hear this again.

> “Naser... baby... mommy's here
> I’m so sorry...
> Please open your eyes, tell me how fast you were able to run at school today.
> Tell me you want that pizza from Moe's that you love so much.
> It's our fault... I'm so sorry... my baby....
> I’m so sor—”

The way she's hugging the limp body of my brother, the blood, please make this stop.

> “STOP THIS! NO MORE!- !”

Something shifts.

Fast. Hard.
Like a rope snapping inside my chest.

Suddenly I *know* something’s wrong.

More wrong than it already was.

I feel it crawl up my spine.

My hands start to shake. My whole body tenses.

I try to back away
but it’s too late.

My parents are frozen... but... he...

He moves.

Naser’s body
it *moves*.

His head turns.
Twisted neck. Broken bones, wings. Doesn’t matter.
His eyes are open, devoid of light. And they’re looking *right at me*.

Dead eyes.
Still eyes.

But somehow... aware.

> “...Olivia.”

---

I blast out of bed. That was the worst one yet.
I’m sweating bullets through my scales my pajamas clinging to me like I just crawled out of a damn pool.

Dried blood on my hands.
Guess I dug my claws into my palms again.

Now I finally notice how fast my heart’s going slamming against my ribs like a war drum.
It worries me a little... but there’s this messed-up part of me that wouldn’t mind if it just gave out right now.

I force myself to breathe slow, trying to quiet the boombox my chest turned into.

I glance out the window. A palm leaf greets me.
And the dark of the night. Of course.

“Great. Incredible start to my return to that prison they call high school.”

I check my phone. 4:37 a.m.
Yesterday’s messages from Reed and Trish are still there they actually seem excited. I wish I could feel the same.

No point lying here. I drag myself to the bathroom.

First things first, wash the blood off my messed-up hand.
Then I face the mirror.

“Hair’s growing out again… I hate maintaining this stupid style.”
Pause.
“…Nah. Nevermind it’s grown on me. Thanks, T.”

I go through my morning rituals like a zombie.
Then I hear something outside the bathroom door.

All I can do is hope that when I open it, *he’s* not the one outside.

---

By the time I’m downstairs, dressed and armored up, I find Rip already in the kitchen. Silent.
Still not over our last fight, clearly.

Whatever. That’s a win for me.

We share the usual awkward breakfast until he finally breaks the silence.

“Liv… honey”

There he goes again. Deadnaming me. I want to shout at him *"IT'S CLAW"*.
It’s too early to start another war, so I let it slide.

“I hope you’re gonna behave today. No accidents, okay?”

God, he’s pathetic.
This tank of a ptero could stop a moving car with one hand, but look at him… groveling like this, just to keep me calm.

I bite down the bile.
Even in my head, that thought’s too cruel.

“Okay, Rip. I’ll give you that much, no accidents. For today.”

I catch a little smirk forming on his massive, stupidly kind face, i´ve only seen that face when he's with me.
Why is he like this? After everything I’ve done… after how far gone I am…
Why does he *still* try?

“I can give you a ride if you’d like. No cuffs this time.”

He chuckles.
*Raptor Jesus, why.*

“I’d rather walk today, Rip. This break got me a bit out of shape. You know how Sam is.”

“Mom cooks the meanest meals. I understand, I mean *"Look at me!"*”

I hate this, yesterday we screamed at eachother for hours, we even made Sam cry...
Why is he so nice to me?
How many minor felonies does it take for him to finally give up?

And Mom...
Holy shit. I don’t even want to go there.... She's the reason im not making a somersault into a red stain on the pavement gymnastics routine... I don't want break her heart even more

---

On my way to that concrete prison they call school, I check my phone one last time.

6:21 a.m.
January 6th. Year 201M2020 BC.
Volcaldera Bluffs.

Weather conditions:
Cold as shit.

Chapter Text

**Volcano High, 6:49 AM, Monday** 

A sea of colorful scales undulates in the early morning light, the bustling crowd of students forming a kaleidoscope of vibrant hues. They chatter and move in groups, tails swaying, claws clicking, and wings occasionally fluttering. The familiar cacophony is as overwhelming as ever.

I sidestep the crowded main staircase and scramble up the elevated terrace-style front yard instead. The worn stone slabs, cracked and uneven, offer an unorthodox but preferred route. It’s a climb I’ve done countless times, my claws finding natural grooves, the rough texture underfoot reassuring.

To the left of the towering building, hidden behind overgrown foliage, lies my sanctuary - the forgotten fire exit. Its rusted frame and peeling paint suggest neglect, and I silently hope the maintenance crew hasn’t decided to finally fix it. To my relief, it remains untouched. My private VIP entrance survives another year.

The air here is quieter, away from the crowd’s din. With classes starting at eight, I’ve got time to kill. Trish and Reed are still MIA, so I take a detour to the alley beside the school. This is my canvas - unassuming, ignored, and perfect.

The stale smell of concrete greets me as I unzip my bag, pulling out cans of spray paint. A quick shake - *click-clack, click-clack* - and a satisfying hiss as color bursts to life. A blank, gray wall transforms under my hand, evolving into a vivid blue skyline brushed with the warm tones of a simulated sunset. A crumpled plastic bag serves as my improvised texture tool, softening the edges of painted clouds.

Buildings rise next, angular and imperfect but alive. A few swipes later, trees take root, their silhouettes standing tall against the cityscape. It’s not perfect, but it’s mine.

Then comes the noise.

*THUD. CLANK.* 

"fuck get back here, you piece of shit!"

A whispering scream makes me whirl around, heart pounding, to see a rolling spray can and the culprit - a skinny figure standing in the alley’s shadows. A human? My instincts scream danger. Panic brews but quickly morphs into defiance. Weakness is not an option.

---

**Volcano High, Principal’s Office, 6:00 AM, Monday** 

The rhythmic tap of my shoe on the pristine ceramic tiles fills the spacious office. The quiet hum of the ceiling fan only amplifies the tension gnawing at me.

No matter how much one tries to change, you can never truly escape who you are.

I scoff at the thought, the self-directed frustration clawing at me. Before I can spiral, the sound of heavy, deliberate footsteps interrupts. The door creaks open, revealing Principal Spears - a mountain of a man with a presence that demands respect. 

“Miss Moretti, you’re early,” he remarks, his deep voice both commanding and warm. 

I rise, adjusting my glasses perched on my snout, smoothing out the fabric of my buttoned-up shirt, and tugging my bow until it’s perfectly centered. “Good morning, sir. I thought it best to arrive ahead of time, given the… circumstances.” 

Spears chuckles, his broad shoulders rising with the motion. “Circumstances, indeed. A human transfer this late in the year is unprecedented. It’s our responsibility to ensure he integrates smoothly.” 

His confidence is infectious, yet doubt lingers. “Sir, with all due respect, how is a human supposed to adapt here? This place isn’t exactly… accommodating.” 

Spears leans forward, resting his massive arms on the desk. “Naomi, don’t be so quick to judge. Remember, someone once extended you the same courtesy.” 

The words sting, but they’re true. My defiance falters, replaced by a reluctant nod. “Understood, sir. I’ll ensure Anon has a positive first impression.” 

---

**Volcano High, 6:52 AM, Monday** 

The courtyard bustles with life, scaled students of all shapes and sizes mingling before class. A ceratosaurus balances precariously on a skateboard, weaving between a group of gossiping saurians near the fountain. A familiar ankylosaurus and stego stand at the top of the stairs, both gossiping about their break. 

But there’s no sign of him. 

My phone reads *6:52*. He should’ve been here by now. 

Worry morphs into irritation as I make my way toward the fire exit. A familiar sense of dread creeps in; skipping orientation isn’t uncommon for troublemakers, if not there, the gardens would be my next guess-. 

“Please get off me!” 

The panicked shout echoes down the alley. Picking up my pace, I round the corner to find a scene that confirms my worst fears. Olivia or “Claw,” as she’s infamously known, has our new student pinned against the wall, her claws gripping the collar of his ugly green jacket.

“I- i'm not w-with them!” the human protests, his voice shaky and scared.

Olivia sneers, her tail lashing behind. “Don’t lie to me, skinnie. I know you’re from Jackie's gang.” 

My blood boils at her baseless borderline racist accusations. Yet, I hesitate. A dark thought worms its way into my mind - what if the human gets seriously hurt because of my inaction? What if this escalates into something irreversible?, could I use that as ammunition to finally get rid of the Baryonyx?. But, the consequences of doing nothing gnaw at me.

No. I can’t allow that. 

“Olivia!” I bark, channeling Spears’ authoritative tone. Both of them freeze, their heads snapping toward me. “Let him go. NOW.” 

Her reluctance is visible, but she releases him, muttering under her breath. The human straightens, adjusting his shirt and avoiding eye contact. Before I can say another word, they both begin speaking over each other. 

“I was just-” 
“She started it-” 

My eyes almost fall out of my sockets as I immediately rush towards them, putting myself between both before Anon suffers the consequences of misgendering Olivia. 

“ENOUGH,” I snap, silencing them. “I will hear what you both have to say… at the principal’s office. Move. Now.” 

--- 

**Volcano High, 7:08 AM, Monday** 

As we walk toward the office, the tension between them is palpable. Anon keeps his head down, occasionally glancing nervously at Olivia, who stomps along, her tail thrashing like an angry whip.

I walk ahead of them, but my mind races. This is an opportunity. If they end up despising each other, I could leverage their animosity to finally rid this school of Olivia. 

The plan forms quickly: keep them in close proximity. Force her into situations where her temper will inevitably boil over. If Anon plays his role well, Olivia’s outbursts will be undeniable, and even Spears will have no choice but to expel her. 

A smile tugs at my lips. For once, things might work in my favor.

Chapter Text

-------------

Volcano High
Cafeteria, Monday, 11:35 AM

I don’t know why I bother waking up anymore. Morning came and went like a bad rerun, and here I am again, with a bit of head pain from surviving an encounter with that psycho gator. Olivia — no, Claw . Don’t forget the name. Don’t forget the pronouns either, at least when actually speaking, or she’ll probably pull that death-spin maneuver on my neck.

At least she got punished. Campus beautification duty or something dumb like that. Even Spears, our mountain-sized Neanderthal principal, looked disappointed. And trust me, he doesn't look like the type of person you want to disappoint, so yeah that’s basically a death sentence.

Spears... that guy could fold steel beams just by looking at them. If what the stories I heard are true, he is not afraid of disciplining with tough love. Still, he’s more gentle than you’d expect. Sort of like a wise old gorilla wrapped in an expensive suit.

Now, though, I’ve got bigger problems than surviving the Gator Incident. Specifically now, I'm dealing with a particular salmon-colored parasaurolophus breathing down my neck. Naomi. Student council president. A walking, talking tinnitus machine.

First, she’s saving my ass from Claw like some kind of battle queen in shiny spikes. Now, she’s following me around like I’m her favorite chew toy. Everywhere I go, she’s there. Watching. Smiling. Always that smile .

I sat at a table in the cafeteria, the world’s saddest slice of pizza on my tray, next to a wilted BLT sandwich she basically shoved at me. That’s not normal student council behavior, right? Bribing random students with food?

What is even happening right now?

“Anon.”

Her voice cuts through my internal crisis. I look up. Naomi’s staring at me with those unnervingly big emerald eyes. Cold-blooded with a touch of warm green glow under the cafeteria lights.

“So... what’s it gonna be?”

That’s what she says. Like we’re in some negotiation. Like I’m supposed to know what the hell she’s talking about. My brain is full of static, a screaming chimp on a wheel, why are my pheromones not working on this female, I have no idea.

“Umm... sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

Her smile flickers. Just for a second. And I get the feeling I’ve made a serious mistake.

“I’m... still kind of shocked,” I try to cover for myself, scratching my neck. “Everything’s moving way too fast, all the introductions, not used to so many dinos, no offense”

If there’s a God up there, now would be a great time for divine intervention. Or a meteor. Meteor would be nice. Just take me out clean.

Then —
Her clawed hand lands on top of mine.

I freeze.

“Anon,” she says, leaning in slightly. “Listen really closely. I need you—”

My brain explodes in alarms. WEE-OOO, WEE-OOO! Femoid contact detected! What the hell did she just say? Did I hear that right? Did she say she needs me?!

Before I can spiral any further into my own nonsense, her open palm smacks me lightly across the cheek.

Slap.

I blink. Did she just hit me?  NOOOOooooo… our blooming relationship has turned toxic!

“Anon! Shut up!” she hisses. “You idiot. What are you saying? I’m asking for your help. Snap out of it.”

Wait. Did I accidentally murmur that? Fuck.

I suck in the biggest inhale of my life, trying to ground myself. Trying not to lose it completely. Naomi’s still looking at me, dead serious now, the smile gone.

“S-sorry,” I mutter. “I misunderstood. What do you need help with?”

I can barely hold her gaze. The disgusting green sandwich on my tray looks like the most interesting thing on Earth right now.

Naomi sits back slightly, drawing a long breath through her nostrils like she’s trying to center herself.

“Alright, Anon. Listen carefully. The baryonyx that attacked you this morning? I need to talk to you about her.”

Her.

Huh.

“Isn’t Claw... non-binary or...?”

Naomi cuts me off with a dismissive wave of her hand. “That doesn’t matter right now. What matters is this — she’s a danger. To you. To everyone at this school.”

I stare at her. She’s looking at me like she can see straight through me. Like she knows what I’m thinking.

“And you,” Naomi continues, voice lowering, “you might be the final piece. The one who can help us get rid of her.”

I nearly choke.

“Wait — what? Me? Help with that?” I can’t help the volume in my voice. Sounds like I just got offered a job at a mafia family.

“Shhh!” Naomi leans in closer. “Keep it down. I’m risking my position here, so please trust me. You really are the only one who I can ask for help.”

This can’t be real. This has to be some kind of test. Or a joke. Or a hallucination… nah too far.

“I’m not interested,” I say, straightening my back, trying to pretend like I have a spine. “Whatever your plan is, I don’t want to be part of it.”

Naomi doesn’t even blink.

“I’ll buy you anything you want from the cafeteria. Every day. Until graduation.”

...

Well. Damn.

My moral integrity was never particularly solid, but that offer hits me right in my weakpoint,  poverty.

“...Nnnno,” I say slowly, trying to hold onto my last shred of dignity. “Really. Bad idea.”

Naomi just looks at me. Then she looks down at my sad little pizza slice, then back up again, her face the picture of someone holding back exaggerated concern.

I exhale like I just lost a war.

“Okaaay... what do I need to do?”

A grin spreads across Naomi’s face. One that would make the Grinch jealous.

“Anon,” she says quietly, “listen carefully. We don’t have much time.”

Somewhere deep in my soul, I know I’m going to regret this.

--------

Volcano High
Rooftop, Monday, 11:40 AM

I don’t remember walking up here. I just... ended up here. Rooftop’s always unlocked. Spears doesn’t bother locking it. So for now, this place will stay my sanctuary, nice place for a smoke — if I had any.

Wind tugs at the edges of my shirt. The sky looks the same as always. Big. Grayish blue. Sun hidden behind layers of clouds. Perfect.

Why did it go this way again?

Broke my promise. Got my shit confiscated. Spears stared at me down like I was a delinquent. Again.

"This day’s cursed," I whisper under my breath. It doesn’t help. Nothing does.

Fuck I did it again. Not one day back and already in trouble, can't help myself.

Heavy breath out. Then another. Like that’ll push the weight off my ribs. But it doesn’t.

Some days it feels like I’m drowning in air.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. That sharp vibration cuts through the fog just enough. I pull it out, thumb already moving on instinct.

Trish. Of course.

11:29 T: whre u at?
11:31 T: did smting happen???
11:36 T: u gtta c dis
11:36 T: 

( this is where i would put an image of Anon and Naomi from afar, IF I HAD IT, but i’ve been too lazy to draw it.)

Tap. Open. My eyes narrow. It’s that, the skinnie. Sitting in the cafeteria with Naomi.

“…What?”

It doesn’t make sense. Why would Naomi —

No. Doesn’t matter.

I shove the phone back into my pocket. No point getting tangled up in whatever Trish’s got going on today. If she’s trying to stir more shit or whatever her angle is now, I’m not in the mood.

Another breath. Another few seconds pretending there’s something peaceful about standing here. Pretending like if I just stay still long enough, maybe I’ll fade into the sky.

The sad part is: it’s tempting.

Trish’s garage sale plan floats across my mind again. That dumb little idea she had about turning my old art into money. Paint canvases, some digital prints, all my old sketchbooks. She was serious about it.

Could’ve been fun. Stupid fun. I really like artsy shit.

But things like that aren’t for me. Once I graduate I’m out of everyone's lives.

Before I can spiral any further, my phone buzzes again. This time it pulls a weak laugh out of me.

12:06 R33d: Got you the finest burger the cafeteria can offer. If you don’t meet me in 5 (FIVE) minutes, say goodbye to your lunch.

Reed. That idiot.

12:06 Liv: DO NOT HARM THE BURGER OMW

The only person on this planet who’d use food hostage situations to get me moving.

I hop down from the rooftop’s loft roof ledge, boots slamming against concrete harder than I meant to. Pain shoots up through my legs. I wince, flex my toes, mutter, "Dumbass," under my breath.

Better get to it.

Stairwell’s cold and narrow. My boots echo through it like I’m the only person left in the building. That thought sits a little too comfortably. But, my self-hatred surpasses any that I may have for the idiots at this school.

Halfway down, my phone buzzes again. This time it’s a call. I answer it out of reflex.

"Yo."

Trish’s voice hits me like a truck: "YOU HAVE TO GET HERE RIGHT NOW!"

I flinch, pulling the phone away from my earhole. "Trish, what the hell—?"

"QUICK, YOU’RE MISSING IT!!!"

Before I can even ask what, she hangs up.

What now?

I pick up the pace, jogging the last few steps down.

The closer I get to the cafeteria, the louder it gets. A wall of noise building and building until my claws are twitching to block my ears.

The second I shove the double doors open, the sound slams into me.

I blink.

What the absolute hell am I looking at?

It isn’t a cafeteria anymore. It’s a stadium. No, worse — it’s that feeling from old-sports videos.

Small memories of some skinnie from that eagles team screaming something about fucking some player's wife. Classic.

But my focus zeros in fast. Circle formation. That’s how you know. Bodies gathered around the main event.

I hop up on a chair, tail flicking out for balance, eyes scanning. And there it is:

The skinnie. Anon if I remember correctly.
Facing off with Naomi.

They’re yelling at each other. Full volume. Full heat.

My mouth opens a little. I can’t help it.

Is he brave... or just stupid?

I pull my phone back out automatically. Thumb hits record. No way I’m missing this.

I can’t even hear what they’re shouting exactly. The crowd’s too loud, bouncing and jeering. It takes serious self-control not to start yelling my own crap into the mix. But I’ve already got enough Spears points stacked against me.

And right on cue—

A voice like thunder.

"SILENCE! BACK TO YOUR SEATS! NOW!"

The whole place freezes.

From Queen’s live aid levels of chaos to nothing. Sound cuts dead. Movement stops. Even the air feels heavier.

My phone’s still recording. Good. I want this moment saved forever.

Naomi and Anon are the only two left standing. Both looked like kids caught in front of the neighbors broken glass window.

Spears steps into view like senator Armstrong. Could almost hear his theme blasting.

"Moretti. Mous. To my office. This instant."

I swallow back a laugh. Naomi. Getting chewed out? This is better than I could’ve imagined.

Spears doesn’t yell often. But when he does...

"Everyone else," he adds, voice quieter but somehow heavier, "to your respective classes. In order. Now."

You don’t need to tell me twice.

I’m already moving.

And one thing that's for sure?

That video on my phone?

I’m never deleting it.

-------------

Volcano High — Music Class
12:52 PM, Monday

The sound in the music room wasn’t music. It was barely organized noise: a half-decent guitar chord here, one fucked-up flute note there, a snare drum that kept hitting a little too perfectly in time to feel accidental. Over and over. Like some kind of broken grandfather clock.

“So yeah, dude, it was crazy,” Reed was saying, voice low and lazy like always. “Like bro, they just went in on each other.”

C major sharp. Clumsy but passable.

“Yeah! And you, Claw, where were you?” That was Trish, eyes lit up in full gossip mode, tail flicking sharp with energy. “You had to see it. What do you think happened?”

G major.

“I don’t know, bro. Maybe the dude… he like, rejected her advances or something,” Reed shrugged, hitting a lazy finger-gun toward the ceiling.

A minor.

“You think Miss Perfect has a thing for skinnies?” Trish grinned at me sideways. “Claw, c’mon, let that shit go. You’ve been really quiet. Aren’t you happy?”

I set the guitar down gently against the chair leg. Her voice felt like static in my ears. Even if we all picked this elective just to slack off, a little learning wouldn’t hurt. One chord, maybe two. The teachers' methods don't help either.

“Of course I’m happy,” I said, dragging the words out like they weighed something. “I’d be jumping like a sugared-up kid if it weren’t for one little problem.”

That got both of their attention. Even Reed’s half-lidded eyes flicked open just a touch.

I pinched the bridge of my snout, sighed through my teeth, and let it hang there before I said it:
“Got detention. This weekend. Slave labor.”

Whatever joy Trish had fizzled like a dead sparkler. Her smile flipped inside-out so fast it felt rehearsed.

“W-what?! Are you serious?! No way! What about our stuff?! The sale?!” Her voice climbed so high she might as well have been part pterodactyl.

“Long story short...” I flexed my claws, dragging my fingers down my face, making me look like that painting from Ed. “Confused the skinnie with one of Jackie’s guys and… yeah. Attacked him.”

Reed raised both brows. Somehow sounding more clear-headed than usual, he asked, “Did you actually attack attack? Or like, something not as serious?”

Even Trish chimed in quieter this time: “Yeah, Claw... you didn’t hurt him too bad, right?”

These two. Don't know if they are more concerned about me or the skinnie.

“Just roughed him up a little. Naomi showed up, stopped things from escalating.” I dropped my hands onto my knees, claws tapping against my faded ripped jeans. “Spears figured I had too much energy to burn and assigned me some gardening work.”

Trish facepalmed loud enough that it echoed. “Aww, man... We had everything set up and ready…”

“Bummer, dude.” Reed shot another finger gun like it was all a cosmic joke. “We can, like, do it next weekend.”

I sighed. Heavy. That creeping familiar guilt again.
“Sorry, you two. I fucked up. At least it gives us more time to get stuff for the sale, right? Trish?”

“Yeah... I guess you’re right.” Her face twitched. “It’s just... we’re running out of time. If I can’t make you a famous artist by the end of this year...”

There it was again. That thing she always said. Like I was some kind of golden ticket. It never sat right.

“Triiish...” Reed dragged her name out slowly. Like a big brother lecturing his goblin-like little sister. “C’mon. We’ve got time. One successful sale’s all we need, then it’s smooth sailing and if that doesn’t work, there's plan b, c, d…..”

That’s the one thing I don’t get about them. Reed is just happy to be here, but Trish?.

“Why put all your eggs in my basket?” I asked, voice dropping lower. Couldn’t help it. “What if it never works? Then what?”

They both looked at me. Neither had a real answer. But before things could get too weird, the bell rang.

Snapping everyone back to reality.

Reed clapped his hands. “Welp. Guess this is it, amigos. None of us share the last period, so... I’m goneso.”

Trish packed up fast, slinging her beat-up  bag over her shoulder. “Claw, I’ll text you more ideas later, okay?”

One more class. Just one more. Then this disaster of a day could die already.

“Sure, no problem,” I said. “Again... sorry about screwing up your plans… and don’t wait for me, Rip’s coming to pick me up”

Reed was gone and Trish waved it off like it was nothing. “Aww, c’mon, Claw. Don’t worry about it.”

We all split from there.

Now all that was left was science.

Fuck.

-----------

Volcano High — Hallways
1:52 PM, Monday

By this point, I wasn’t even surprised anymore.

First day of school. Two office visits. A public screaming match. Now I was wandering around looking for the science lab like some lost idiot, holding a detention slip that felt heavier than it should.

Still couldn’t figure out exactly what Naomi was getting at with all this. She took the blame for our fight like it was nothing. Said it was over my economic situation or something. And now I had a cafeteria card? From my understanding, free shit from the cafeteria until graduation, where I would finally have to pay, but according to her, she will pay.

Worth it, maybe.

Standing outside the classroom door, I hesitated for a second. If I went in late, maybe the back row was still open. One could hope.

I stepped in, and sure enough—

Every eye in the room turned toward me like I’d just walked into a crime scene.

I froze. Straight up locked in place like some guy that got caught by Chris Hansen.

“Anon, I presume.”

The voice was dry and worn down, belonging to a thin, gray-scaled something-saur standing by the chalkboard. Mr. Fernsworth. Science teacher, from the nameplate. He looked about a hundred and still teaching because surely he loooves his job and not any other reason.

“I’m your science teacher. You may call me Fernsworth. Would you care to present yourself to the class?”

For a moment, I couldn’t remember my own name.

“Uh...”

“Mous?” he prompted again, one brow arching with ancient patience. “Are you feeling well?”

“OH! Yeah. Sorry.” I cleared my throat, hating the way my voice cracked. “Um. Hi, everyone. My name’s Anon. Sorry for holding up the class.”

I scanned the room, hoping for blank indifference. Instead, all I saw were curious stares. Half of them probably recognized me from the cafeteria incident.

“Good enough, Anon. Now, go sit with your partner, please.”

My partner?

“I... uh—”

“Oh, my bad. That would be Claw.”

His finger pointed slowly, and my eyes followed the line, like a man watching his own execution.

There she was. Olivia. Claw. Sitting at the back, arms folded, green scales glinting faint in the classroom light. Her teeth sharp as fuck and that ever-present, look like she was waiting for someone to say something dumb so she could tear them in half.

She looked... surprised.

I felt my stomach knot.

Without another word, I shuffled toward the seat next to her, head down, trying not to meet anyone’s gaze. My legs felt like paper.

Please let this go smoothly. Please don’t let her kill me.

By the time I sat down, I’d convinced myself she wasn’t going to say anything. But of course—

“Hey.”

Quiet. Firm. Too close.

I stared hard at the desk, willing myself not to respond.

“Hey!”

Maybe if I just pretended not to hear her—

“Dude.”

Something slapped my shoulder. My whole body tensed like a spring.

WEEE-OOOO WEEE-OOOO. Sound the fucking ALARMS!. Shoulder contact. Immediate threat detected.

“Are you a schizoid or something?”

Her voice cut through my panic like a scalpel.

I whipped my head toward her before I could stop myself. “No! what?! …Sorry.”

Good save, dumbass.

“Mous? Aaron?” Fernsworth’s voice floated in like background noise. “Is there a problem?”

Claw spoke before I could. “Nah. Everything’s fine.”

“Yeah. What sh—what they said,” I added, nearly biting my own tongue off in the process.

“Very good of you two,” Fernsworth said, voice dry as dust. “Now please. Open your books to page fifty-six.”

Book? I didn’t have a book. No one told me I needed a—

Thud—Whoosh.

I turned my head just in time to see Claw slide an open book toward me with two clawed fingers. Her eyes didn’t quite meet mine.

“Anon, was it?” Her voice dropped low, raspy around the edges like she’d been holding back something all day. “I wanted to apologize for almost cracking your skull open today.”

I blinked at her.

“Oh! Don’t worry about it,” I said automatically. “It was a misunderstanding. Uh... apology accepted.”

At least she didn’t look as pissed off now. Her expression was still sharp, but less... dangerous.

“Okay. With that outta the way...” Her voice shifted back into something more biting. “You have to tell me what happened with Naomi. I want to know.”

The way her Hepatitis looking eyes lit up with curiosity as she asked me that, funny, but not good for me.

“I... uh...”

What the hell do I tell her? Naomi never filled me in on her own WWE script.

“She... insulted me,” I tried, my voice dropping into a mumble again. “And I retaliated. That’s it.”

Claw’s whole body turned toward me, her tail flicking once against the floor. One brow shot up so high it nearly disappeared into her frill.

“ That’s it? Dude, no way. C’mon. You gotta tell me more.”

She was getting louder. I could feel eyes shifting toward us again. Why couldn’t she just drop it?

“She... got... racist,” I blurted, panicking now. “Said something about my economic situation and then my humanity. I couldn’t let that pass, so I insulted her stupid glasses and her shitty bob cut.” I finished with grimace plastered all over my face

For a second, Claw just stared. Then she cracked the ugliest grin I’d ever seen.

“And what else? What else did you insult her with?”

Her eyes had that weird glint now. Like a kid hearing a story they liked.

I swallowed hard. “Why are you so interested?”

She leaned in closer. Way closer. Too close. I could smell faint hints of whatever Meteor n’ dodgers shampoo she used.

“She looked hurt,” Claw muttered. “I need to know. How can I hurt her like you did”

Her voice dropped flat then, almost quiet enough only I could hear it.

I didn’t know what to say. Fucking this up would clearly ruin what's left of the year for me. I can not let Claw know about Naomi’s stupid plan, yeah the same plan to get her fucking kicked from the school. Why the fuck did I agree to this again? Oh yeah, free food.

“I, uh... pulled some statistics. Insulted her species and diet.”

Please let that be enough. Please. I didn’t have the social battery to keep playing this game.

Claw clicked her tongue. “Bullshit. No way that happened.”

“Claw... trust me. That’s what I did.” I tried to keep my voice low, but it probably still came out all shaky.

Her eyes narrowed. One of her claws tapped the desk in this steady rhythm, like she was counting down to snapping. “Hard to believe when I already pulled those insults. They didn’t work.”

This is it, I thought. I told you Naomi—this is what I get for trusting you with this.

“Ooohhh, Claw, I’m glad you’re making new friends, but can you save it for outside of my class?”

Both of us flinched like we’d been caught sneaking snacks. Fernsworth’s voice wasn’t loud. Just there. Like he’d been waiting to say something, but didn’t feel like dragging it out.

We both turned slowly. The whole class was looking. Not again, please not again—

“Sorry, Mr. Fernsworth,” Claw said, voice suddenly way too casual. “Baldie here was just telling me about... magnets, right?”

My brain stalled for a half second, but I caught up. “Oh shi- yeah. You know… how the molecules are arranged and the electrons spin in the same direction... yada yada...”

I risked glancing sideways. Claw’s face was stuck in this weird middle-ground between disgust and disbelief. Like she couldn’t decide if I was actually that much of a nerd or just full of it.

Fernsworth only sighed like he’d seen this play out a hundred times and I don’t like the implications of that. “Oh, ho ho. My bad, you two. Keep at it then.”

The old fossil shuffled back toward his desk, leaving me with that same awkward silence sitting heavy between us.

“You into nerdy shit?” Claw asked suddenly, like she couldn’t help herself.

The question was different. Like she didn’t really care, but was just... poking, why? Who knows....

I took it anyway. “It’s something that stayed with me back when I made a little railgun once.” Turning toward her a little, watching for a reaction.

One beat. Two beats. Then—

“Cool.”

That was it. Just cool.

I wasn’t even sure if I was disappointed or relieved. She didn’t push it further and seemed to have forgotten about the Naomi situation, this was fine by me.

Silence again. Until my mouth opened on its own: “You... uh... spray paint?”

Her eyes rolled. Actually rolled.

“Hey. Sorry but—how hard did your head smash against the wall? Of course I spray paint. You kicked one of my cans, remember? And then indirectly got them taken away?”

She gave me this tiny head shake, eyes going half-lidded like I was just exhausting her patience one syllable at a time. Whatever chill I thought we’d built up fizzled right there.

Claw let out a sigh through her nose. Took her time with the next words like she was chewing them first.
“...Yeah. I’m slightly artistic.” 

Almost smiling at her stupid joke, but held it in just in case, but her look… sure was something, like she had just figured something out.

After some time she snorted after that, almost a laugh. She let her clawed hand drop against the science book, wincing like she’d pulled something.

I caught it, side-eye flicking to her hand before I could help it.
“You alright?” I asked, voice a little quieter than I meant it. “Your hand...”

Claw glanced down at it like she’d forgotten it was attached to her. She flexed her claws once, slow.
“It’s fine,” she muttered, eyes already drifting back toward the book like none of it mattered.

Her whole posture shifted, sinking down in her seat a little. Like all that fire from a minute ago had just... fizzled.

“Listen...” she said, voice flatter now. “How about we forget all this. Me, Naomi, whatever dumb argument you two got into. I know I'm spooking ya. I get it.” Her claws drummed once against the edge of the desk. “Let’s just finish the assignment, hmm?”

For a second, I didn’t answer.

Naomi had said Claw was bad news. Real bad. Toxic, dangerous, not worth trusting. I’d been holding that in the back of my head the whole time.

But here she was. Saying it herself and offering me a hand.

"Let's forget about this shit day, deal?"

She held her hand out. No sarcasm this time. Just waiting.

I stared for a second longer than I meant to. But there wasn’t a reason to say no.

“Sounds good. Deal.”

We shook on it. Her scales were rougher than I expected. And just like that, we got back to work.

I didn’t know what to think of her exactly. Yeah, she’d nearly turned me into paste earlier, but putting that aside... they seemed alright.

The longer we worked, the more the silence settled into something bearable. Until—

“What?”

I blinked. “Hmm?”

“You’re schizoing out again.”

“Oh...” My voice dropped lower. I hadn’t noticed it, honestly. I guess I’d been mumbling under my breath again.

“You should take care of that before it gets you in trouble,” Claw added, half-smirk curling on one side.

“Shit, sorry. Didn’t spill any dark secrets, did I?”

That got a snort out of her.

And just like that, the bell rang.

People started standing up, shuffling toward the door in a slow, noisy wave. Me? I waited. No rush. The last thing I wanted was bumping into someone bigger than me and getting impaled on my way out.

To my surprise, Claw didn’t move either. She just sat there, eyes on the desk like she was trying to solve some private equation.

Not my business.

Shouldering my bag, I made my way to the door. Finally… FINALLY! I could call it a day.

Out of the place through the hallway, the air felt almost fresh. Sort of. Dinofornia smog and all. But still.

When I reached the stairs, that’s when I saw him.

Big. Tall. Massive. Mostly brown scarred scales.

When he spoke. My stomach dropped so hard I almost sharted.

“Anon Y. Mous, right?”

That voice was fucking deep. My heart started hammering like I’d just walked into a boss fight, all it needed was a giant health bar under him.

“Y-Yes sir?” I didn’t even try to hide the crack in my voice.

The guy stepped closer. Big enough that everything got dark around me, this guy is blocking the sun for me, completely, It's not like I needed the vitamin D

His hand landed on my shoulder, heavy enough to make my knees lock up.

“Relax, I'm not gonna kill you, boy. Unless you give me a reason to.”

Funny. My brain played that video of some funny snoot-tuber blowing a whistle and screaming RAPE at full volume. But I kept my mouth shut.

“Listen. I have been notified of what happened this morning.”

Oh no. Oh fuck. Naomi’s family. I'm fucking dead.

“I wanted to apologize on behalf of my daughter.”

Wait... what?

“D-daughter? Which one?”

My question makes the thing’s face scrunch up a bit before continuing “Olivia. Claw, as she likes to call herself nowadays.”

Out of nowhere he grabs my head like he was inspecting a melon at the store. Before I could even squawk, he let go.

“No signs of damage. Only swelling. Here.”

He pulled out a wallet fat enough to choke a cash register and handed me a hundred.

“Get an ice pack. The rest is compensation.”

Two heavy shoulder pats later, he was walking past me. Up the stairs.

“Sir, wh—?”

“Olivia! C’mon, we’re going home.”

I looked up just in time to see Claw staring down at me from the top step. Her face looked... off. Like she wasn’t sure if she was supposed to be pissed or sad.

Neither of us said anything.

She followed after the scary pterodon, I think that's what he is and both of them got into this tiny red car that looked way too small for him.

That was her dad? They didn’t look alike at all.

But whatever. Hundred bucks was a hundred bucks. Maybe getting my head smashed wasn’t the worst investment.

Right when I turned to leave—

“Anon!”

I froze. Fist clenched. Brain screaming no please no.

Of course. The mandarin menace. Naomi.

“Anon, I forgot to tell you about your detention.”

“Detention?! Why?!” My voice showing the amount of shits I don't have to give

Her voice was calm as a saint. “Spears told me. After our little show at the cafeteria. Campus beautification.”

I didn’t even have the strength to argue anymore. “Okay. Great. Can I go?”

“Yes, you may. Hope to see you again tomorrow. Have a good rest.”

With that, she was gone.

I looked around one more time. No other saurian out for my soul.

Finally, Home. Bed. Fourteen hours of sleep. My final message. Goodbye

What a day.