Monday. Today was Monday. It had been over 24 hours and your head was still hurting, a distant, everlasting throb that just wouldn't leave you alone. The hangover was duller now, much so, but it was just present enough to distract you from your English class more than you'd have liked. The reading of The Raven had concluded already (with you staring blankly at your copy, not seeing the words) and Mr. Lecter was speaking eloquently at the front of the class, elaborating on the basic moral and a few of the key moments; at least, that's what you'd thought he was doing. You didn't notice that he had started asking students for their own personal thoughts until he was calling your name and you were shooting upright in your seat, out of the slumped position you'd fallen into.

"Do you have any thoughts you'd like to share?" Seated on his desk with his hands folded neatly in his lap, Mr. Lecter almost looked as if he were waiting for you to stutter and fail, knowing you hadn't been paying attention. Regathering your momentarily scattered thoughts and sitting more properly in your chair, you cleared your throat and prepared to prove him wrong.

"Lots, actually. I think, evidently, that the symbolism in The Raven tells the story of a lost loved one, the death of this character Lenore. The Raven itself represents grief and sorrow while the chamber that the speaker is in is the physical form of... shutting himself off from the world?" You see the surprise lighting your teacher's gaze and then the glow of astonishment; he was impressed, so you continued, "With the way the Raven flew into the chamber and wouldn't leave, it's communicating with us readers that, no matter how much one might try, grief always has a way of slipping through your mental barriers." You fell silent at last, feeling gazes burn into you from all sides. Jason, who had been perfectly aware that you have been spaced out for the entirety of the class, shot you an 'ok' sign with his fingers and raised his eyebrows, just as taken aback as the teacher. There is a light muttering all around you; your skin begins to crawl. Suddenly, you feel out of place, and can't help feeling like the cliche new kid who's secretly a super genius. That's pretty far off from the truth, if you do say so yourself.

"Well," Mr. Lecter stood from his place seated on his desk and smiled, delighted, "You have quite adept knowledge, (Y/N). You're exactly correct. If the Raven represents sorrow and the Chamber represents an attempt to keep that sorrow out, can anyone tell me what the bust of Pallas symbolizes?" A wave of silence ripples over the classroom all at once- no one knows the answer. A second passes and you're about to raise your hand when you hear a deep sigh, and someone else raises it first; the arm is leather-clad and belonging to the bane of your existence. Oh, this'll be grand! You sit to attention, hands folded on your desk, waiting for him to say something utterly stupid with that pea brain of his. "Mr. Johnson? I'd love to hear what you have to share."

"Well," He mumbled, leaning back in his chair and rolled his pencil between his fingers, "The bust of Pallas refers to the Greek goddess of wisdom, Pallas Athena. The bust represents sanity, wisdom, scholarship- that type of stuff, y'know?" He paused, flicking his gaze deliberately towards you. An effortless smirk stretched over his lips, and as he often did he lifted his chin in a belittling manner, "When the Raven lands on this statue, it's, like... like the speaker's rationality is being threatened. The bird's refusal to move shows even more that the speaker's grief, represented by the bird, is immovable and slowly obstructing his rational thought." Again, a hush of silence. Nothing moved for a full three seconds, just Danny's victorious golden eyes glittering with pride and locked with your own. Finally, Mr. Lecter let out a hum, and you turned to see he was smiling pleasantly.

"Well done, the both of you. I think the both of you will work great together." Confusion flares within you like a flashbang, sudden and warm and sickening. Work together? In what? "That brings us to our next topic, class- a group project!" Protest erupted from the students, hushed from some and exclaimed more boisterously by others, but Mr. Lecter ignored it, simply speaking over the noise and not standing for the complaints. "In groups of three you'll be writing a detailed essay on the topic of The Raven, exploring the three symbolic figures just spoken about by our two students; I expect something in depth, exemplary. You're all model students, or at least have the potential to be." His gaze turned back to you, steady just as it always was. "Mx. (L/N), Mr. Johnson, I would like the two of you to work together with Ms. Vaughan." You heard a girl's little gasp, pivoting to scope out who it was you were being partnered with- in the split second it took for you to turn around you hoped and prayed that it was someone useful, someone pleasant, but of course, just your luck, it wasn't. Ms. Vaughan was the brunette, hazel-eyed bitch who had definitely slept with Danny at the party last Saturday night. She grinned from ear-to-ear and thrummed her perfect, nude-toned nails against the desk in anticipation. You didn't even want to look at what Danny's face must resemble; you guessed some mixture of disgust and excitement, thrilled at the thought of being able to tank your English grade. This, too, felt cliche. As if you were in some shitty romance movie where the world kept shoving the two of you together despite all odds; but this story, the story with you and Danny Johnson, would absolutely not end in romance. Not a chance.

"Oh dear, (Y/N)," Norman said, suddenly standing beside your desk as people stood to pick their grounds. He leaned over to catch your slightly downturned gaze, his own eyes glittering with pity, "I'm so sorry. Good luck, honestly." Jason appeared on your other side with a hand on your back and a frown on his face. With one hand, he signed,

A S K H E L P

"Thanks, Jay, but I can't do that. You two are gonna have your own group to worry about, I... Well, I can't inconvenience you. I appreciate the thought, though." Waving his hand dismissively, Jason pushed gently on your shoulder to say without saying that, in a worst case scenario, he would help you no matter what, whether you liked it or not. You just smiled, not having time to respond as Norman was ushered aside and Danny planted himself in his place, sitting backwards on a chair so the back of it was pressed against his chest and used as an armrest. He didn't look happy- Norman and Jason both passed you one last glance, Jason mouthing the words good luck, and then they were off to find a third partner.

"Danny!" Ms. Vaughan, who you don't know the first name of, came over with a bright red-lipped smile and a v-neck crop top that swooped a little too low for your liking- you weren't one to shame others for their clothing but this was definitely excessive, not something appropriate for a girl who was still in school. She didn't pull up a chair, just jumping up to sit on your desk (you let out a scoff of protest. She didn't hear it) and kick her legs, the fabric of her pleated skirt pushing up on her thighs. "Lucky us, right? What are the chances that we get to be together?" Danny sucked in a slow, calming breath, and then that easy-breezy Danny smirk came back and he leaned towards her.

"I wouldn't have it any other way, C," You didn't know what the C stood for and you couldn't give less of a shit. This girl had spoken exactly 14 words and you hated her. "We're gonna ace this aren't we Sweetheart?"

"'Course we are, I got hired at my daddy's work the same day I gave in my resume because the cover letter was so perfect. I'm upstanding when it comes to english." The way she spoke was confident, so confident that you almost didn't catch her saying 'upstanding'. Did she mean... outstanding? That wasn't a hard word to remember, was it? How dense was this girl? Did she not know that she was hired 'at her daddy's work' because he worked there already? Danny and C were lost in their own chatter already, entirely oblivious to your presence as a whole. A few times you tried to cut in and each and every try C just held up a perfectly manicured nude-nail and continued to chatter away about having another party sometime soon or going out to a movie with her. You could see in his eyes faint remnants of boredom, but he was doing a pretty good job at hiding it for who knows what reason. At last, after nearly 20 wasted minutes, you let out a huff and stood from your seat, leaning forwards to snap your fingers between the two 'lovebirds'. Just thinking that word made you want to throw up.

"Enough, enough! You guys can't just- be quiet for a single moment? We have work to do, don't we?" With a high-pitched giggle and a hand over her mouth, C turned to you and tilted her head, eyeing you up and down.

"Do you-" She cut herself off, giggling into her hand again, and then turned back to you to soak in the sight of your outfit- one of your graphic tees, light jeans, and your favourite jean jacket with all the patches- and raise one neatly-trimmed eyebrow. "Do you dress like that every day?" Your jaw drops open and you have to turn those words over in your head for a second. The temper you have grown to hate bubbles like a heating volcano.

"Excuse me? What's that supposed to mean?" Planting your hands on your desk you screw your face into a grimace, tapping one finger obsessively to try and reign your temper back in again. With a gasp and a mask of guilt C hurries to recover with something that may have been a genuine compliment but definitely didn't come off as one.

"Oh, no I didn't mean anything bad! I just think it's... so great that you can go through your day without caring what people think of you." She clasped her hands together, tilting her head to the side, "I really wish I could pull off clothes like yours, but... I'd just be so afraid of being judged!" Now she was frowning. You felt your heart begin to thump heavy and hard in your chest. If either she or you didn't stand down within the next few seconds you were sure you'd make a scene whether you liked it or not. Deciding to be the bigger person, you swallowed the lump in your throat and stretched a tight smile over your lips.

"Uhuh," You mumbled out, and sunk stiffly back into your seat. "Anyways," You grit your teeth together, letting one more moment of silence pass to chill yourself out, "I'm assuming we aren't going to get this done just with in-class time," It was your turn to be passive aggressive but the subtle insult flew right over the heads of both Danny and C, it seems- or at least, Danny (who at least had a bit of brain in there) ignored it, "So we should try to organize meetups, somewhere at sometime each day or two."

"Sure," C shrugged and turned back to Danny, leaning her elbows on her knees and angling herself forwards so anyone could catch a perfect glance down the front of her blouse. You averted your gaze. "So, Dan, back to that movie idea- or would you rather do dinner?"

"I'll think on it, honey, don't you worry." You guessed that he would not, in fact, think on it. Who would?

"Please can we stay on topic? If we continue like this we'll definitely need to meet up outside of school!" You plant a hand over your face to brush at your eyes, your headache beginning to inch back into fruition. Not what you needed. Not at all. Thank God, both your partners turned back to you (though C was evidently irritated) and you finally had the chance to speak again without being ignored. "I already have Danny's number and-"

"What?" C gasped, over-dramatic hurt erupting over her face and twisting her expression into one of total betrayal, "They have your phone number? Why? Not even I have your phone number!" You should have chosen your words more carefully.

"Hey, hey, calm down sweetheart!" He kicked you under the table. Hard. You kicked him right back. "I don't ever text them, it was all nothing, okay? I promise." Danny passed you a withering glare, and you watched as he reluctantly set his hand down on C's leg to comfort her. "I don't give my number out to anyone. I can't even remember why they have it." The brunette just crossed her arms and turned her head away with a 'hmph', letting you roll your eyes in front of Danny and Danny alone; much to your surprise he did the exact same. Pushing on, you say,

"I'll give you my number, C, and-"

"It's Chrissy, new kid, only my Danny gets to call me C!" Chrissy whirled back to glare at you so fast you jumped, surprised, and almost flinched under the blaze roaring in her green-brown eyes. It was intense like nothing you'd seen before, a look like the one every kid back in New York had amplified by two.

"Okay, Jesus, you don't need to be such an ass about it!" You snapped, returning the look with as much power behind your own as you could muster- you guessed it wasn't much, by the unwavering stature of the girl you weren't allowed to call C. "Do you want my phone number or not?" As the tensions rose, Danny let his head sink down to rest on his folded arms, ignoring the both of you altogether with a flat sigh.

"I don't want it, actually, so you can just fuck right-"

"That's no way to speak to your partners, Ms. Vaughan," Mr. Lecter's sudden appearance startled both of you- it was like he had appeared out of thin air, his steps silent. "I'm not fond of speaking negatively of my students but I paired you with these two for a reason. Mr. Johnson and Mx. (L/N) are the most capable students in my class." His voice was hushed and no other students noticed his praise for the two of you except- well, you, Chrissy, and Danny. "I was hoping that the two of them could, together, help to carry your slack. You don't pay much attention and seem to have no passion for the language arts at all. Please, try to cooperate with them, or you will see your grade suffering." Triumph, warm and golden like the rays of the sun, shone from your heart and coated the inside of your chest with a fuzzy feeling you quite enjoyed. Chrissy sat speechless and with her mouth agape. At last, she managed to stutter out an 'ok' but nothing further. You gave her a second to keep to herself and then, with subtle snark, said,

"So, uh... how's about I give you my number now?"

***

The bell rang, loud and liberating. Around you, the students in your math class rocketed to their feet and you did just the same, holding tight to your books and looking forward to a lunch hour with familiar faces. Melting into the flow of students, you let them guide you through the math class doors and out into the hallways, following the stream in the direction of your locker with a chill nonchalance about you. You'd made a groupchat with Danny and Chrissy, asking when and where would work best for them; neither had answered as of now but that wasn't a problem, you could wait. The less talking with them the better, you think. Still basking in careless thought, you reach your locker without really realizing it and twist in your combination. It was muscle memory at this point. The hinges let out a squeal as you pulled open the thin metal door to place your math books inside and pull out your lunch bag, closing the locker again right after. Jason, who was usually here to walk to the lunch spot with you, must have been held late in his previous class since he was currently nowhere in sight- you could wait, or you could start the trek alone to make sure you claimed the perfect eating place before anyone else could. Half in the shade, half in the sun, carpeted with soft, springy grass and just close enough to the doors to get inside first without the fear of being stepped on- it was ideal.

As you walked, being jostled gently every once and a while by another eager student, you unrolled the top of the brown paper lunch bag and fished around inside for whatever felt the tastiest. Your fingers brushed a smooth wrapper and you knew the treat without even seeing it, as if you had a tasty sixth sense. Pulling out your rainbow-chip Rice Krispie square you grinned, tucking your bag under your arm and using your teeth to peel open the treat. You arrived at the doors to the outside just as you took your first bite, pulling the wrapper off and crumpling it into a ball in your hand to toss back into the paper bag to dispose of later. Just as you were about to take a step down from the doors a group of kids burst out, running right into you from behind and knocking you forwards like a tidal wave; you don't even have time to react and then you're hitting the ground palm-first and feeling the white-hot pain as the skin is peeled away by the uneven asphalt.

"Hey, watch it you-!" A gust of wind bears down on you to sweep your Rice Krispies wrapper away, pulling it high into the air. "Shit!" You know you can't litter, you'd be lectured to hell and back if you were caught no matter how small the wrapper was. Swallowing down the burn of tears in the back of your throat and abandoning your Rice Krispie which had fallen to the floor you forced yourself to your feet, swipe your lunch bag up alongside you, and set off after the wrapper. It was as if the wind had chosen this exact moment to pick up in speed, like some higher power was fucking with you. Sending a curse towards this unknown being you chased and chased, always getting so damn close to the stupid blue foil before another gale dragged it further away. You felt like a cat chasing a too-quick mouse and must have looked like quite the fool. Finally, a full minute later and just as you reached the far side of the school where the path takes a sharp right around the corner and to another set of main doors, the wrapper thumped against a tree and clung to it's rough bark. "Gotcha!" You hissed, racing forwards to plant your raw palm against the trash once and for all. It felt cool against the redness, which you now realize was oozing a faint amount of blood. Still staring down at the wound you turn back around to return to where you would find your friends until two hands rammed into you from the side and sent you to the ground with a startled yelp. You hear something in your lunch bag pop as you land elbow-first down onto it, and pray it wasn't your Kool-Aid. Forgetting your crushed lunch you redirect your gaze to the bitch who had pushed you in the first place. Two hazel eyes stare down at you, paired with a bright red frown.

"You bitch!" Chrissy hisses, lunging forwards to catch your arm and haul you to your feet only to shove you backwards again to conceal you behind the school's corner. No one you knew could see you, now, as you tumbled to your backside into the grass once more. "You were trying to make me look like some dumb whore, weren't you? In front of my boyfriend?" Before you can stop it you let out a bark of a laugh, and then clamp your mouth shut and fight the grin that's begging to adorn itself. This lady is just too fucking funny. "Get up! Get up right now! What's so funny, you-"

"I don't have to try to make you look like a dumb whore!" you cut Chrissy off as your grin finally breaks free. Surprisingly your temper was perfectly in check- rather than anger, you felt some sense of sad delirium. Maybe you were mourning your Kool-Aid and had gone a little crazy after it's death. That was a joke, of course- really, you just couldn't believe someone could be this fantastically stupid.

"Oh you didn't just say that to me!" Chrissy started forwards, extending her claw-like nails to catch in the collar of your jacket to pull you to your feet. You manage to scramble a foot backwards, climbing up yourself and staggering out of reach yet again. "Stop being such a fucking coward!"

"What the hell do you want, asshole? What did I ever do to you? It's not like I told him to his face that you're as stupid as you look- I didn't say a single word to him!" Squaring your shoulders you stepped right back towards Chrissy, now nose-to-nose with the girl. She was as unwavering as you had expected her to be; she was obviously diagnosed with classic Mean Girl Syndrome, meaning she thought she could push anyone around and have no backlash whatsoever.

"I want his phone number! If anyone deserves it it's me, not some lowlife nobody like you!"

"And? If I don't give it to you? What, are you gonna gouge my eyes out with your mascara wand?" Chrissy gasped as if that was the most offensive thing in the world. Then, fury blazing even stronger in her eyes, she shot herself forwards with one arm outstretched to grab at your hair. Feeling her slim fingers grip tightly to your head was one of the most frightening things in the world- all at once you couldn't move and she had you at her mercy. It was such a simple move and yet, her hand buried flush against your scalp, she had won.

"Let me go!" You spit out, clawing at her hand with your nails, though they were dull and short and didn't do much.

"Give it to me or I'll take it from your phone myself! I'll do it, I-" Suddenly, Chrissy shrieked and her hand tore free from its place with a rip and one last flash of pain that tugged your headache from it's place buried deep inside your skull. "Don't touch me you- you freak!" With the sudden lack of support you fell to your knees, your hand shooting up to press against the spot where she'd been holding. Pins and needles raced through your whole scalp. How much hair had she ripped out?

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" You knew that voice though you hardly heard it, low and gruff and terrifying.

"It's none of your business you-" She cut herself off with another cry and then you heard the sound of her receding footsteps as she ran away with her tail between her legs. Now your nails were aching, too, from the desperate attempt to ward off her stupid hand.

"Are you okay?" That voice came again, and then a hand was on your back and you were looking up to see Michael's icy blue eyes, though now they held a certain tenderness you hadn't ever imagined was possible. Still a little shaken up and surprised by your unlikely saviour (yes, Michael had been warming up to you but you had never expected him to care this much) you could only nod and flash a wobbly smile. "I hate that girl. What a-" He let his mouth hang open for a second as he struggled for the perfect word to describe her. In the end, he didn't find it, and just stayed silent. "Come on," He mumbled instead, standing up and offering you his hand. After a second you pulled your own hand away from your head to place in his, letting him pull you to your feet. Just as you were about to pull away his grip tightened and he flipped your hand over to see your battered palm. He inspected it with a frown and then looked back at you with that cool gaze. "What happened here?"

"Oh, I just- tripped. It's nothing, really." Michael studied you, skeptical, and then deducted that you were really telling the truth there. Chrissa hadn't been the cause of these wounds, or else Michael would have had another word or two for her in the form of a devastating punch across the face or in the stomach.

"Be careful." A pause, as if he wanted to say more. "Let's go. The other's are waiting." He let go of your hand, waiting for you to start walking before following behind.

"Thanks, Michael," You said with a warmer smile, one that wasn't as shaky as the other you'd given him. He shrugged his shoulders and the corners of his lips twitched in something that must have been a smile right back. "Hey, if that girl ever bothers me again will you help me beat 'er up?"

"Absolutely." Though it had been a joke Michael didn't hesitate to respond with a finality that almost made you shudder. You would never want to be on his bad side- at least now you could say you weren't too scared of running into Chrissy again. Jason was the first to spot you upon your return, lifting an arm to wave excitedly then pointing towards a commotion a ways away; you could hear loud music and spotted someone dancing animatedly, three other kids holding up a large white banner- even from a distance, you could read the glittery text spelling out 'PROM?' in massive letters. Sitting down in the grass with your buddies and pushing the ordeal with Chrissy behind you, you watched the rest of the event go down, knowing you'd missed the first half of it. The one who was dancing spun with a graceful flourish that ended quite the opposite; he must have stepped on his shoelace as he went to perform a pirouette, because he fell face forwards and would have landed pretty hard if the one he was dancing to hadn't rushed forwards to catch him. They burst out laughing and that's when you finally deciphered who they were- it was Billy Loomis and Stu Macher, both of which had been at Amanda and Danny's party.

"Prom? Shit, I didn't know that was coming up," You let out a small laugh of your own at the spectacle, "I thought that was still-" You're interrupted by an outburst of cheering as Billy catches Stu in an affectionate headlock that must be a yes, "Still months away, at least."

"Well," Brahms huffs out, "It isn't. It's in three weeks. I don't know why people are already asking out dates." The boy grimaced, picking up a bright red apple from where it had sat in his lap. He looked over at you and noticed you were without your usual bagged lunch. Glad to have an opportunity to change the subject as the promposal died down, he said, "Where's your food?"

"Oh, I..." You cleared your throat, searching for an excuse as best you could. Michael jumped to your rescue.

"They forgot it. I promised we'd share our stuff."

"Well, in that case-" You hardly had a second to react as the apple was being sniped at your head, and you shot your arms up with a cry to block it just in time. It hit your left forearm and bounced to the floor, rolling to Jason's feet; that's how a game of 'apple keep away' began, ending with you and a quarter of each of your friends' lunches.

(A/N): You pack one hell of a lunch. Kool-Aid AND a rainbow Rice Krispie square? Lucky bastard. Too bad Chrissy is an asshole :( How did you all like this chapter? It was another that was mainly filler but I really enjoyed writing it so I hope you enjoy reading it as well :) Let me know, give me your feedback, maybe make some predictions as to what might happen next!

Can we get a chain of 'Rest in Peace Kool-Aid's please?