1-15
https://rentry.org/wr5kz
16-?
https://rentry.org/g2qdc

WIP

An unofficial Tamersverse Sonic Underground fanfiction

With credit and apologies to Tamers12345
Chapter 1 - A New Morning

A ceaseless, droning beeping rouses you from your dream. It's morning. The first morning at your new school is approaching.
You slap the alarm clock on your nightstand for it dragging you from your dreamworld. After silencing the loathsome machine, your eyes pass over your surroundings to ensure you're really awake.

Your room is about as mundane as bedrooms come. Featureless plaster walls, coated in a drab color of pale yellow paint with a white trim make up the bulk of your environment.
Your bed, a pillow-top mattress with the sheets haphazardly strewn about. You've never been one for making your own bed. It's not like you have company over to impress.
A beaten, soon-to-be firewood dresser drawer, survivor of countless cross-country trips from tactless moving company employees sits in a corner to your left.
To your right, a cheap, Chinese constructed desk awaits, housing your only "friend": your custom-built computer. You've souped up that bad boy to be able to play any game for decades to come.
But you spend the vast majority of time on it emulating games that came out 20 years ago and shitposting on anonymous imageboards.
A single window, covered by the shittiest, most beaten-up shades you've ever seen, leaks the late Autumnal morning sunlight through the numerous cracks and slits.
You won't be drawing that covering up any time soon anyway, though. Not just because the shades would probably fall apart if you touch them, but because the last thing you want is the world to see what you're doing to yourself in here.

Your father's job as a military contractor has dragged you out to some American Midwest suburb in the middle of nowhere this year. At least the last time you moved, there was the prospect of doing something fun in the big city.
Not that you ever did. You sat in your room on your computer most of the time. But at least you had the option.
Here, there was fuck-all to do, fuck-all to see, and you knew it from the very outset.

Most kids would piss themselves with fear over attending a new school, but to you, this is relatively mundane at this point.
Your parents move around a lot due to the nature of their work, and it means you wind up at a new school every few months.
However, this means that you can't really afford to make friends with anyone, since it's just going to make the inevitable goodbye that much more painful.
You learned that lesson the hard way the first time you moved. This is School #6 for you at this point.
That doesn't really make the dread of meeting new people go away, but it does cushion the fear of it all, since you know you probably won't see any of them again by next year anyway.

After finally wiping the crust off your eyes and falling out of bed, you stagger to the adjacent bathroom to perform your morning routine. Shit, hair, teeth, clothes, unplug phone from the charger before making your way downstairs for breakfast.
And there was your mother, with her biggest grin, cooking up a batch of scrambled eggs and bacon, while Dear Ol' Dad was reading the paper, sipping on his coffee.
...Is what you'd like to see for once, but instead the house is empty, as usual. Dad and Mom are both at work, and the only breakfast item left available to you is some frozen generic-brand waffles.
Huzzah.

Finishing your meager breakfast, you head for the front door, backpack in hand, and see a sticky note posted on it with a simple message for you: "Bus Stop: Maple Street & 33rd. 7:30".
...Not even a "Love You", or a crude drawing of a heart? Were you guys really in THAT much of a hurry? Damn.
Double checking your pockets to confirm your inventory (Cell phone, keys, wallet, yep, everything's here), you lock the door and leave your lonely abode, heading towards 33rd.
Wait, EIGHT BLOCKS away?! SHIT, DOUBLE TIME!

Severely out of breath, you barely make it to the corner just in time for the bus to come around and pick you up. Winded, you clamber aboard, and immediately you hear murmurs from the other kids.
"who the hell's that"
"never seen that fag before"
"OMG look at that loser, he's all sweaty"
Yep. Par for the course.
"that ass tho"
...Okay, that last one was new. Avoid that kid at all costs. Back door's exit only, fellas.
Pitter-patter aside, you're now faced with another dilemma: your stop is the last before school. There's no seats available. Shit.
This was so much easier at your last couple of schools, just hop in a window seat and plug in your headphones to drown out the chaff.
Not only is that luxury gone, you're completely new and are now at the mercy of whatever unlucky student is stuck having to deal with your dumb ass.
Your eyes rapidly dart through the seats, hoping and praying you don't get sat next to the designated school shooter or autistic anime nerd.
As you have your internal meltdown, a voice rings out. A voice belonging to a girl of some sort. Or possibly a very feminine boy, in which case you can probably assert dominance.
"This seat's open! Come on!"
Surprisingly pleasant. You weren't expecting this. Maybe it's a ploy to prevent you from asserting dominance. Your eyes shoot towards the siren's call.

Sitting a few rows back, a bright-eyed, pink-haired creature is waving you over with a smile on their face.
You say "creature" not because of your terrible ability to connect with the opposite sex, but because this "girl" wasn't actually human.
She had the head of an animal of some sort. She was coated in pink fuzz, with the only exception being a flesh-toned area around her jawline.
Her nose was bulbous and black, her ears were like a cat's or dog's, pointed upwards, and freely wiggling with excitement.
And her eyes. Or, was it 'eye'?
What the hell, does she have only one large eye with two pupils? Or were they seperate at one point and fused together in a lab accident or housefire or something?
Yet, nobody else seems to acknowledge the fact that they're riding with this creature.

"SIT THE HELL DOWN, FAGGOT, WE'S GOTS SCHOOL TO GITS TA", The bus driver calmly stated.
Suppressing your bewilderment, you hurriedly sit in the only available seat next to the strange girl, keeping your eyes down to avoid staring at her, as well as to avoid making any sort of interaction with her.
"I've never seen you around here before. You must be new!", the unknown being states the plainly obvious. It's clear you won't get away from this ride without engaging in conversation.
Time for the ol' tried and true setting: Bare Minimum.
"...yeah. Just moved here a few days ago.", you answer, in a hushed voice.
"It's always nice to have an opportunity to meet new friends. My name's Sonia! Sonia the Hedgehog!", the bubblegum-colored being proclaims. Hedgehog? Aren't hedgehogs, like, half a foot tall or something?
Well, at least there's a name to append to this thing.
"...Anon.", you half-heartedly introduce yourself. "Sonia" responds to your dull introduction by beaming an overwhelmingly bright and charming smile.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Anon!"
...You feel like shit for not actually putting in the effort to meet her cheer, but it's all in the effort of sparing your feelings later. Just grit your teeth, soldier. You don't get to have friends.

"Are you nervous about your first day at a new school?" she asks. What a stupid question, of fucking course you're nervous. Every single person on Earth is nervous going someplace new.
Threats need to be assessed.
Escape routes need to be planned out should shit hit the fan.
There's a reason it's called a "Comfort Zone", because everything outside that Zone is UNcomfortable. Who would charge headfirst into that with no apprehension?
"...kinda.", you blankly respond.
You might be acting like you're dead inside, but you still don't have the heart to insult the only person who's at least acting like you're a human being and not a clump of turds stacked up to resemble a human being.
"That's okay. We all get nervous in new places", she says. No shit.
"...I guess. This isn't the first time I had to move, though", you reply.
"Oh? Does your family move around a lot, then?", Sonia ponders. You glance in the direction of the relentless bombardment of chatter to get a better look at the irritant.

She's wearing a kind of strange outfit, to be frank. Long sleeved purple gloves cover most of her hands and arms, leaving only her shoulders exposed.
Her legs are covered in similarly-shaded boots, though they have a red tip on them. Under them, she's wearing red stockings that lead all the way up her dress, which is also purple.
Her sleeveless top is the same shade of crimson as her stockings, and the ensemble is all tied together with a big, golden belt of some kind, with a white gem placed firmly in the middle.
She looks like she just stepped out of a bad Saturday morning cartoon from the early 90s.
Having said all that, it's not like it's a bad look for her. The get-up fits the contours of her body surprisingly well, showing off just a subtle hint of her femininity.

On closer inspection, your initial response of confusion/revulsion really wasn't warranted. From a distance, she could probably be mistaken for a normal girl.
Her hair is an even brighter shade of pink than the rest of her body, and it seems split into two noticeable segments: on top of her head, and the back of it.
Up top, a huge tuft of voluminous hair juts forward, gently wrapping around the curve of her face before ending at her rosy cheek.
Behind her head, her hair suddenly points backwards in the shape of two large spikes in a sort of V-shape.

But then your eyes finally meet hers properly.
Though the shape of her eyes might be weird, you can tell from her bright, focused pupils that she does have a kind, friendly heart.
And she's still beaming an adorable smile in your direction, her cheeks slightly blushing.
As the blood rushes to your face, you feel a compulsion to respond to her previous deduction.

"My dad's a contractor for the military, and mom's in marketing for this big chain store, so she can just hop around where ever dad has to go."
Embarrassed that you just blurted out more topics to continue a conversation you desperately want to end, you force your gaze straight to your feet.
"Wow! That's really interesting, Anon! I wish my mom had a job as cool as your parents!", Sonia enthusiastically responds. Because of course she does. Because you can't shut the hell up.
"Hey, you should meet my brothers and friends when we get to school!", she continues.
More?
She wants to bring MORE people into your crappy, embarrassingly empty life? God damn it, why can't she pick up the hint that you want to be left alone?
You try to focus your gaze even further down between your toes, when you catch her move just outside of your periphery. Your eyes instinctively respond to the movement.
She's bending her entire upper torso over to try and make eye contact, pressing her cheek against the seat in front of you. Smile still as bright and cheery as ever.

This adorable gesture completely takes you off-guard.
You say the first thing that leaps into your stupid head.
"okay sounds cool"
FUCK NO WHAT ARE YOU DOING AAAAAAAAAAAAA
"YAAAAAY!" cheered the chipper hedgehog. "Everyone's gonna love you, I just know it!"
END CHAPTER 1
Chapter 2 - The New Kid

After what seemed like an endless journey of you ignoring Sonia's prattling to internally self-flagellate, the bus finally pulls to a stop at the school.
"GET OUT YOU FUCKING FAGGOTS BEFORE I KILLS ALL A YAS", the clearly mentally stable bus driver gently requested. "TAKE YOUR MEDS, ASSHOLE" several students replied in a spritely fashion.
Filled with newfound dread, you solemnly march off the bus along with the others.
You're 95% certain the kid in front of you crapped his shorts. The remaining 5% is he deliberately sat on a brownie his mother made and smeared it all over himself in an act of rebellion.
The moment you step off the bus, something yanks you out of your stupor by your arm. The source is, of course, Sonia, no doubt dragging you to see her friends.

"Come on, Anon! Let's wait for my friend, Mindy! She should be coming any second with my brother", the salmon-colored ray of sunshine pleaded.
Clinging to your arm, she leads you off to one side before staring at the bus doors expectantly, watching the children going by, hoping to spot her friend. Whose name is Mindy.
Sonia's grip is like a vise. Accepting you have no chance to escape, barring chewing your own arm off (and that's your GOOD masturbation arm, you'd die before bringing harm to it), you stare blankly at nothing in particular, waiting for the agony to end.

As the students left on the bus come down to a trickle, a particular spectacle catches your eye. A gargantuan mound of blue struggles to sidle through the doors, its weight dragging the whole bus down with it.
On a closer look, this azure shape is actually another student, an extremely overweight one. You surmise that this kid has to weigh at least 700 pounds. You wonder if you haven't seen him before on some show on TLC.
Stifling your snickers/disgust/pity for the poor soon-to-be-diabetic, you glance over at Sonia, who surprisingly has dropped her usual cheery persona to look away from this sideshow.
You can't help but feel a hint of shame from her.

While you're curious about Sonia's behavior, the fat kid finally escapes his prison with a somewhat satisfying, unmistakably wet sound, like removing a massive clump of hair from a shower drain.
The bus, overjoyed at finally dropping that load, jiggles back and forth, its suspension squeaking in harmony.
The portly boy dashes (at least, what could only be described for someone of his immense size as 'dashing') off towards another part of the lot without even looking in your direction.
"Oh, Bartleby, my lover, please wait for me. Your little bitch is coming to meet you!" the rotund mountain of a child wheezes as he hustles away.

As you wonder about the exact nature of what you just witnessed, as well as how you managed to miss seeing that monstrosity during the ride, Sonia's expression perks up as she notices the next kid coming off the bus.
No doubt this was going to be Mindy at last.
Sonia giddily flags her friend towards us with her free hand, and you finally catch a glimpse at what Mindy looks like.

Swaggering up to the both of you was a blow-up sex doll of Jared Leto's portrayal of The Joker from the hit movie, Suicide Squad, with enormous fake breasts.
"Hey, big boy. You must be new. You want me to suck your balls?", the sex object asks in an undeniably sultry voice, before throwing on a sensual chuckle.
You blink your eyes in disbelief of what horror you're witnessing.
As your eyes regain focus, suddenly the horrible illusion dissipates, and what's left is only mildly more appealing.

Mindy is taller and more human-like in appearance than Sonia, with normal caucasian skin. Really, she looked just like a human in all but two ways: her nose was black, and her ears came to a point, like an elf's.
However, that humanoid appearance was buried under 80 pounds of makeup and plastic surgery. The first thing your eyes are drawn to are the two absolutely fucking stupidly large breasts planted firmly on her torso.
These gargantuan knockers could kill, and probably have killed, a medium-sized dog with a simple turn of her body.
The massive fake milkers were barely constrained by a scrap of cloth, no doubt supposed to be a bikini top, but the coverage would be embarrassingly small, even for modest sized breasts.
You manage to peel your eyes away from the gigantic tits in front of you to get a good look at her face. Though, to be frank, it's tough to make out her actual face behind the copious amounts of foundation and lipstick.
Her lips seem permanently puffed out in a mix between pouty and duck-face, coated in lipstick similar in color to Sonia's fur.

Despite your complaints about her appearance, however, hidden behind the falsehoods, you can definitely see some appeal to her.
Her hair is a bright orange, ginger color, thick and voluminous, somewhat wild, tied into a high ponytail trailing behind her.
What little of her body you can make out behind her big boobies is very well developed for a high-school girl. She'd honestly pass for a super model.
But what you find most appealing is her eyes. Beneath the lavender-shaded eyeliner, her deep blue eyes cast a piercing gaze right through you. It makes your heart skip a beat for a second.

"Umm...hello? I asked you a question, faggot", the seductress speaks again.
"I'm sorry, what?", you blurt out thoughtlessly as you shake off your analytical autism and struggle to remember what Mindy asked you previously.

"Ha ha, damn, girl. You don't even know his name and you're asking to suck his balls. You're crazy, slut", a young man's voice rings out from the school bus.
Swaggering up to the three of you is the Ugly Bastard from those Japanese porn comics you're so fond of reading. As he wraps his arm around Mindy's wide hips, you wonder why he glued grass to his head.

Wait. The Ugly Bastard wouldn't care about his male pattern baldness.

You rub your eyes, trying to refresh your focus on this new character.
What stood before you had a similar face to Sonia, but a much chunkier build to his body, he weighed somewhere around 250 pounds. His fur was also a shade of green, similar to grass, as you noted earlier.
The hair on top of his head was an absolute mess, spiked up but crooked and bent. Did he fall out of bed and just forgot to comb it, or is it deliberately styled that way? You're no fashion guru, so you ignore it.
Speaking of fashion, the hedgehog boy was wearing a tattered red vest of some indeterminate, yet unmistakably cheap material, yet no shirt underneath it, exposing his flesh-colored belly.
White gloves that cut off at the wrist, leading into spiked wristbands cover his hands, and his feet are adorned with pointed red running shoes, with white tips.
If you're wondering why you didn't describe what pants this young man is wearing, that's because he's not wearing any pants.
You choose not to dwell on it, because you've been called a faggot 7 times in the last 30 minutes, and you're not looking to continue that trend by looking at another boy's naked crotch.

"Hey, Mindy, Manic, this is Anon! He's new in town and needs some friends!", Sonia introduces you to the two new faces with her trademark peppy attitude.
So the green one's name is 'Manic'. Noted.
You sheepishly wave at the two of them as your gaze meets the pavement before awkwardly bleating out a weak "h-hi."
Sonia's two friends exchange looks at each other, no doubt wondering just what the fuck is wrong with you.

You needed an excuse to get out of this impending awkward conversation FAST. You glance around the area and see a huge crowd of people gathered over on the other side of the school's parking lot.
At this point, most of the kids have already headed inside the school, so this was an odd sight, to say the least. In fact, you could tell most of the people over there were adults, rather than children.
"What's going on over there?", you ask, desperately trying to draw everyone's attention to the brouhaha and away from you so you can slink away into obscurity.
"Oh, that's just the papparazzi. Ignore them", Manic says, as he coldly waves off the obviously hard to ignore phenomenon happening on school grounds.
Your diversion plan failed. Damn.
Actually, thinking back, that obese blue kid from earlier charged off in that direction. Maybe he's some sort of underaged reporter for the school newspaper or something.

"You're never gonna believe this! Anon's dad's a soldier and his mom's a CEO at some big marketing company!" Sonia boldly announces to her friends, interrupting your train of thought.
...That is not even remotely what you told her. You turn a suspicious glare towards the vivacious pink ditz as you seriously question if she was even listening to you earlier.
"Whoa! Like Captain Price in Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 (2022)?!" shouts Manic. You're confused as to why he said it like that, including the year, since both versions of the game follow the same story.
You think. You never actually played Modern Warfare 2.

"And a CEO? Damn. I bet you're about as rich as Bartleby, haha", chortled Mindy. Never mind that quip about that Bartleby guy, you had to tamp down this fire quick, before it spread out of control.
"Um, a-actually, that's not what my paren--", you begin to stammer, before a loud noise pierces through your correction of the story.
The school bell was ringing.
You needed to get to homeroom immediately.
And you had no idea where to go in this unfamiliar building.
END CHAPTER 2
Chapter 3 - Encounter With God

"Oh shit! We're late!", Manic cried as he hauled ass towards the front doors, dragging Mindy alongside him.
While chasing after them, you scramble through your backpack, sifting through the countless papers to find your schedule for the semester.
"OMG, Anon, hurry! You don't wanna be late on your first day!", Sonia called out to you while running past you into the halls of the school.
"W-WAIT! Please! I just need directions to my homeroom!", you loudly beg back at her, still searching for your elusive sheet.
Sonia stops in her tracks and turns back to you, jogging in place with a flustered look on her face.
"Tough shit, noob! If Teach finds out we're late again, he's gonna have me cleaning off Coach Johnson's crap from the faculty toilets with a toothbrush!", Manic shouts, as he disappears down one of the nearby halls, Mindy in tow.

All this damn paperwork, you fucking HATE joining in the middle of the semester. Wait. That blue corner. Could it be?
A grid of your various classes and times is laid out on the sheet of paper in your hands.
YES!

"Uuhh, which way's room 114?", you hurriedly ask.
Sonia's face turns from worry, to surprise, to joy. "Room 114? This way!", she yells as she dashes off down a hall to your left.
"H-HEY! WAIT!", you command as you grip your backpack and give chase. Why is she leading me there personally? Isn't she also late for her class?
You clumsily clamber down the hallway through the twists and turns, barely keeping track of Sonia as she breezily outpaces you.
The chase finally comes to an end as Sonia skids to a stop in front of an unassuming door, breathing heavily. You'd like to say you're doing the same, but 'wheezing' would be more accurate.
"What the hell, Sonia?", you inquire between gasps of air. "Why'd you lead me here instead of just telling me?"

"Because," she responds, also between breaths, "this is my homeroom, too!"
She flashes her characteristic bright grin, as her chest rises and falls, beads of sweat dripping from her face.
You feel your heart beating even faster now. A heart attack might be imminent.

The two of you sneak into the classroom. The teacher isn't here yet. Thank goodness. He must be taking a huge crap.
However, the air is filled with a palpable tension.
You ever see one of those cowboy movies, where a character enters a saloon, and all of the other patrons immediately stop what they're doing to give that character the evil eye?
That's what's happening here. Countless eyes are locked upon the two of you as you enter.
Well, you, at least. Sonia, unfazed by the sudden silence, skips over to her desk without missing a beat.

Your eyes pass over the room filled with other students, glaring at you in judgement. It's a mix of normal human kids and fuzzy creatures, similar to the few you met earlier.
Speaking of which, Manic and Mindy are also here. What a small world. Manic is leaning back in his desk, resting his legs on top, trying to look like the coolest kid here.
Mindy is simply browsing her phone with a bored look. She glances up at you briefly before returning to her scrolling and texting.
Sonia, having taken her seat, looks at you with a glimmer of innocence in her eyes, and her usual cute smile.

God damn it, why is this so fucking hard? You've been to new schools countless times before, you normally just take your seat and wait for the torrent of insults to ignore.
Wait, which one IS your seat? There's several empty ones, all of which are by the furries, which is your term for the non-human kids now until you properly determine what the hell they are.
As you stand stock-still, pondering your next move, the classroom door suddenly opens behind you. Spooked by the sudden movement, you jolt away from it with an undignified "GYAK!"
The tension has been successfully cut, as most of the classroom erupts in derisive laughter.

An adult human man enters the classroom. You hate that you have to describe people as "human" now, as if that wasn't blatantly obvious anymore. Fucking furries.
"I take it YOU'RE the new student around here, Anon", the man states with a slight tinge of annoyance. You quickly come to the conclusion that this is your teacher.
"Umm. Yes, sir", you quickly reply, before coming to a bizarre realization.
"Uh. Hhhhhhow do you know my name, sir?", you hesitantly ask, bewildered by the man's apparent clairvoyance.
"Because you left THESE strewn all across the hallway", he responds, holding up several sheets of paper in his right hand.
Scrutinizing the evidence before you, you recognize a lot of that paperwork, and even see your name written on several sheets.
Your eyes quickly dart to your backpack to find it's open and almost completely empty. You forgot to zip it before chasing after Sonia. All the papers spilled out. Shit.

"Just take your seat, Anon. Third column, second-to-last row", the teacher tersely orders. You wordlessly comply, as the students snigger at your misfortune.
You walk between Manic and Mindy on your way to your desk. Manic points his finger at you like a gun with a smug look on his face as you pass by.
Let's see...third column, second-to-last row...right next to...Sonia. Of course. You internally sigh in defeat as you take your seat next to the bubbly fellow student with twinkling eyes.
What did you do wrong in life to deserve this? Fate is forcing you to make friends with an amazingly positive person, just to rip the two of you apart in less than a year.
Maybe it's punishment for a previous life. Maybe you were a pedophile before you were born. Or Black.
Well, you understand punishing YOU for that, but why put Sonia through this? She seems like a nice girl, she doesn't deserve to suffer through losing a friend she'll never see again.

"Psst. Hey, Anon", Sonia whispers, breaking your silent pleas to whatever deity is responsible for today.
"...yeah?", you eventually mutter back.
"Hi", she quickly replies before stifling her giggling as she looks away. Was she...teasing you or something? You don't really know how to respond to that.

You take a good, long look at your surroundings. This is gonna be your homeroom from now on, best to get a grip on the layout from the location you're most likely gonna be at.
You're located near the lower left corner of the room, three seats away from a window. So much for wistfully staring outside at anything but the sky.
To your left, as you've already figured out, is where Sonia is seated.
In front of her, to your upper left, is Mindy, still on her phone.
Manic sits right in front of you.
To your upper right, a girl, sort of like Mindy with pale-blue skin and white hair, is seated. As if feeling your eyes boring into her head, she turns to face you, and meekly waves before returning to her notebook.
Behind you is some hippy-dippy guy in glasses, but you feel like you can safely ignore him as he's not that important for this stretch of your life.
Finally, the seat behind Sonia, and the seats to your right and behind that one are currently vacant.
Looking closer, the legs of the chair of the desk to the back-right are agonizingly bent out of shape compared to the rest. There's cracks on the floor beneath it, as well.

You took notice of this before, but every one of the taken seats nearby is occupied by one of those furries. Even seats two rows ahead of you are taken by those creatures.
Something's been bugging the hell out of you for the entire morning at this point. You're surrounded by creatures that aren't human and nobody gives two shits. Why?
After wrestling with finding the most tactful way to word the question, you build up enough nerve to simply ask:

"Uhm, I know this is probably gonna come off as racist, but...What the hell ARE all of you?", you question the surrounding students.
As expected, everyone stops what they're doing to look directly at you. You know it's insensitive, but if you're gonna be stuck here for the rest of the semester, you deserve to have at least that question answered.
"Have you really never seen a Mobian before?", asks Manic, who's craning his head as he leans further back in his chair to get a better view of you.
Mobian? You've never even heard of Mobians existing before today started. Yet this school, or at least this classroom, is filled with them.
"No, never. Every school I've been to has only had humans attending", you state patently. "Where did you guys all come from?", you continue, too curious to simply ignore your odd surroundings.

"It's kind of a long story, but we're from the planet Mobius", Sonia explains. "Our homeworld was taken over by the EVIL Dr. Robotnik and his army of goons, years ago"
"We did eventually take back our world, but because Robotnik left it in such shitty shape, we had no choice but to abandon it", Manic continues in place of Sonia.
"So you guys are refugees, like those muslims that are swarming all throughout Europe?" you inquire.
"Well, not quite. Mobians have actually been attending human schools on Earth off and on throughout the years." Sonia carries on.
"Yeah, we all actually took part in the student exchange program for our days in Kindergarten", Manic adds.

Why the hell is this the first time you heard about any of this? Alien creatures not only coming into contact with humanity, but exchanging students and knowledge with each other?
Oh wait, you know exactly why YOU hadn't heard about this, it's because you're a recluse who spends his days staring at a computer screen playing video games and masturbating to anime titties.
Well, at the very least, you have a name to call these furry fucks now: Mobians. You feel culturally enriched already.

"Anon, stop being racist before I've taken attendance", the teacher chides from the front of the room.
You sullenly slump in your chair quietly. You take notice of Sonia looking around the room with a concerned look on her face, before raising her hand to ask the teacher something.
"Excuse me, Mr. Davisen? Is Knuckles not here today?", she asks with a worried look on her face.
"No, I just received a call from his great-grandfather about how he, and I'm quoting on this one, 'has come down with a severe case of diarrhea'", the teacher clarified.
With various snickering coming from the other students, Sonia simply responds with a dejected "Oh", before casting her saddened gaze to her desk.

"Now, then, I'll take roll", Mr. Davisen, whose name you just learned, proclaims. "When I call your name, simply stand up, say 'here', and sit down", he goes on.
The teacher then goes through the cavalcade of names, including yours, before finally landing on one of the missing students.

"Bartleby Montclair of Dresdin?", he calls out.

...That can't be right.
You might be a hermit, but even YOU have heard of Bartleby Montclair of Dresdin.
Bartleby is the richest, sexiest, and most powerful man on the face of the planet, why would he be in attendance at this school?
Clearly some prankster fucked with the class registry just to mess with the teacher.
You bet it was Manic, that grassy-headed fuck. He strikes me as a "Class Clown" archetype.
"Bartleby?", the teacher hollers again. You start to snigger at the teacher being so easily duped, when suddenly, the classroom door bursts open.

A glorious, golden light shimmers from the newly opened doorway. Its brilliance is nearly blinding.
You squint as hard as you possibly can to try and make out what could possibly be causing such divine radiance.
As your eyes struggle to analyze the figure behind the light, you come to a stunning realization.
A man of impeccable beauty and strength has entered the room, his long, golden locks flowing effortlessly in the breeze.
His thick, sinewy muscles, glistening with sweat, reflect the fluorescent lighting overhead.
His lantern-like jaw that could cut diamonds houses his thick, pouty lips, spread wide across his face in a beaming smile of confidence, before opening his mouth and releasing the most dulcet tones ever heard by mankind from his throat.

"Ah ha ha, excuse my tardiness, professor", this living Statue of David chortles.
"Mowing down the papparazzi outside with my solid gold AR-15, personally monogrammed by Kyle Rittenhouse, which cost me fourteen trillion dollars, took me a bit longer than I expected", he continues, everyone waiting on his every heavenly word with bated breath.
"Not a problem, Mr. Montclair,", Mr. Davisen chuckles. "I know how busy you and your personal bitch get this time of day"
Personal bitch? Did you hear that right? Under closer scrutiny, you notice this chiseled Adonis is clutching a chain in his right hand.
Following it, your eyes catch a glimpse of this 'personal bitch' previously mentioned before, with the collar around his neck attached to the chain.

Sauntering besides this golden god is the Ugly Bastard from those Japanese porn comics you adore reading so much, dressed in a Modern Sonic outfit.

Wait. The Ugly Bastard would know better than to dress as Modern Sonic. Everyone knows Modern Sonic doesn't deserve sex, consensual or otherwise.

You rub your eyes in disbelief, refreshing your focus to try to push past the overwhelming brilliance to get a better look at the creature.
What you can make out is an undeniably round, blue shape, sort of similar to Manic, but way fatter, with an industrial-sized set of asscheeks.
The only clothes the personal bitch is equipped with are a set of red running shoes with a thick, white stripe going across the middle of them, and a leather collar wrapped around his meaty throat.
The collar is studded with diamonds, and has the word "BITCH" emblazoned on it in solid gold letters.
His "Hair", if you can even call it that, is shaped in several large spikes pointing backwards, with one particular spike set between his ears on top of his head, forming a sort of mohawk.

Wait a minute, you feel like you recognize this portly blue ogre. Yeah, you definitely saw him struggling to exit the bus earlier this morning.
In fact, you know you just made the comparison, but his face really does resemble Manic's and Sonia's. He must be a Mobian hedgehog, too. Possibly a brother to the other two?

Wait, what the hell are you doing focusing on some fat blue turd when BARTLEBY MOTHERFUCKING MONTCLAIR OF MOTHERFUCKING DRESDIN just walked into your homeroom?
You can't believe it. Your eyes begin to well up with tears of joy. You share a class with the richest, sexiest man alive.
All of the bullshit you've endured, the taunting, the jeers, the judgement, the heartbreak, ALL of it had been leading up to this moment, and it was ALL worth it now.
This is your one chance to make a lasting first impression of Bartleby FUCKING Montclair. DON'T SCREW THIS UP.

"I realize this might be out of turn, but could I please ask you to take your seat so we can continue the day's lesson?", Mr. Davisen gently requests.
"Ah ha ha. Of course", Bartleby responds. "Come, my bitch. Let us begin our scholastic adventure anew!", he then commanded to his azure concubine.
"Oh, Bartleby, of course, anything for you", the obese bitch reciprocates in a loving, subservient voice.
The two figures then meander in your general direction. Bartleby is getting closer. You're going to piss your pants in sheer joy.
The blue porker waddles his way through the desks, forcefully shoving them out of his way with his sheer girth before arriving at his seat, to the right of your rear.
You don't really notice this disturbance, though, because Bartleby, a seven-foot tall being of pure divinity, has taken the seat to your right.

Your eyes are beginning to bulge out of your skull, and your tears are flowing heavily down your face. This is the happiest day of your life.
You know you should avert your eyes, it's like you're staring directly at the Sun, but you don't care, this might be the only opportunity you have to soak in every last detail of this deity before you go blind.
And then the unthinkable happens.

Bartleby's eyes meet yours.

"Oh? It seems we have a new student today", Bartleby notes, as he turns his face towards you.

Bartleby Montclair of Dresdin just fucking noticed you exist.

You feel your organs shutting down. Your brain has completely fried at this point, accepting, nay, DEMANDING you die at this very moment at the height of your bliss.

"Tell me, what is your name, my newfound colleague?", Bartleby inquires.

He asked your name.

You start panting, salivating, and sweating profusely as your now completely defunct brain desperately tries to piece together enough of a synaptic sequence to get you to say your name clearly.
After gulping down the drool pooling in your throat to try and moisten your vocal cords, you finally, proudly vocalize your name for his divine ears to hear.

"schhhhlubsfuggafpfffffff", you spit, as your eyes roll into the back of your head. With your motor skills completely disintegrated, you flop over onto the floor, your consciousness quickly fading to black.
END CHAPTER 3
Chapter 4 - Road to Recovery

You begin to regain your consciousness in an unfamiliar area. As your senses slowly return, your vision makes out a pure white room, with bright lights droning overhead.
You hear a few muffled voices in the distance, arguing indistinctly about something.
"mleemf, hemme mee mph Anomf ih alright!" the increasingly familiar voice vaguely pleads outside of your vision.
"foh fah laft time, NO! Piss off, you pink bitch!" shouts a disgruntled, haggard voice, finally breaking through the fog over your hearing.

You loudly groan and rub your incredibly sore eyes and head. You thought for certain you were going to die. At this point, you still kinda want to.
You shake your head to clear your brain fog, before sitting up to try and get a better view of your surroundings.
Posters advocating for healthy foods like veggies, and slogans about taking care of your body adorn the pure white walls.
You go out on a limb and take a guess that you're in the Nurse's office.
"Barbleby?", you call out in a daze, still groggy from your near-death experience.

Your vision, still blurry, lands on the sole exit in this room, where two figures stand, bickering and blocking the way.
No doubt the source of the voices you heard as you began to regain your senses.
The shapes start coming into focus, forming to be more recognizable as human.
Well, as human as these two get, anyway.

A heavy-set white woman dressed in a nurse's gown is blocking a smaller girl in a red and purple outfit.
Wait.
Red and purple.
And the hag's voice earlier threw the insult 'pink bitch' around.
Don't tell me...
"Anon!", exclaims Sonia, with relief in her intonation.
Of course.
"...hi Sonia", you grunt out loud.

As the nurse is distracted by your no doubt miraculous recovery, Sonia takes the opportunity to squeeze past her large frame to bust into the room and take her place firmly at your side.
The second she sits down next to you, she starts relentlessly bombarding you with chatter.
"Omigosh Anon I was so worried when you passed out in homeroom I wanted to stay with you when they dragged you here but they insisted I return to class so I've been coming back between every period to make sure you're okay but this fat bitch kept saying you needed to rest and-"
Sonia was talking at such a rapid pace, you didn't even attempt to keep up with her prattling. You simply asymetrically blink at her, waiting for her to come to a stop, or run out of breath.

Before either of those things happen, the nurse loudly clears her phlegmy throat, no doubt carrying a case of undiagnosed emphysema.
Sonia quickly flashes a shocked look at her, before turning it into a rebellious glare. She grips your left arm in both of hers.
Too disoriented to register the action as adorable, you turn your attention to the ogre in white.
"Listen, sonny. You came down with a severe case of BMPS during first period", the scratchy-voiced nurse explains.
"...BMPS?", you ask in response, hoping for clarification.
"Bartleby Montclair Proximity Syndrome", the nurse spells out. "It happens a lot with new kids getting anywhere near the richest, sexiest man alive", she then adds.
"Upon experiencing the bliss of Bartleby's attention, many people's minds simply shut down all bodily functions, perfectly content with death after experiencing joy of that caliber", the nurse drones on.
That certainly describes what happened to you in homeroom.

Sonia's face turns from rebellious to worried. "Is he gonna die?", she then asks, concerned for your condition.
"Frankly, most people do, but the fact that Anon here is able to sit up after all that is nothing short of divine intervention", the raspy voice responds with a rather stunning assessment.
"That said," she further expounds, "I want you to go home with someone supervising you for the next 24 hours. Because the school's closing up soon and I gotta get home to watch 'Judge Judy'."

Yeah, good luck with that. Wild dogs couldn't tear Mom away from her sales job, and Dad's probably on some military base doing God knows what, they'd probably shoot him if he tried leaving early.
"I don't really...have anyone to keep an eye on me for that long", you groggily reveal. The nurse simply rolls her eyes. Helpful. You hope Judge Judy bursts into flames the next time she sees her.
"Hey, Anon, I've got an idea!", Sonia declares excitedly. Here it comes.
"You can stay with us at my place for the night! It'll be like a sleepover!", the bouncy bubblegum babe offers, giddily hopping in place.
This day has paradoxically been both the least predictable and most predictable you've had in your entire life.
You are completely exhausted of options at this point, however, so you simply accept the crap-coated hand fate has dealt you.

"...yaaaaaaaay", you cheer in the most sardonic voice your addlepated brain can muster.
You know, for having your brain overloaded from bliss, your internal monologue maintains a wealth of perspicacity.

You clumsily attempt to rise to your feet, but your legs act like a newborn calf's, wobbly and weak from your run-in with BMPS.
As you stumble, preparing to fall flat on your face, Sonia braces herself against you to keep that from happening.
Despite you being significantly heavier and taller than her, she forces her iconic smile through the obvious strain you're putting on her.
Taking your arm over her shoulders, the two of you limp towards the exit.

As you make your way out of the building, you're greeted by the two other hedgehogs you've met today, Manic, and Bartleby's personal bitch, whose name still eludes you.
"Wait, he actually LIVED?! Holy crap!", Manic cried out, utterly shocked by your continued existence.
"It's his own fault he suffered from BMPS", spat the corpulent cerulean hedgeHOG. "If he only stopped staring, Bartleby would never have noticed his ass!"
"Sonic, stop being a dick", Sonia spat back. Sonic the Hedgehog. You can't believe it took you this long to remember the name of Bartleby's personal bitch. It's been on every history quiz you've ever taken.
"Do you know how embarrassed Bartleby was that this little faggot almost died just from him greeting this guy?!", Sonic grills as he scowls at you.
"Bartleby left school early because of you! I-I hate you! I was gonna ride home with him in his limo, but now I have to walk home like some animal!", the sapphire-colored shithead whines, before stomping his stumpy legs off in a huff.

...You almost died. You have no clue why he's throwing a tantrum at you of all people. A little exercise might help reduce those stretch marks, fat-ass.
You, of course, keep that quip to yourself, because if Bartleby found out you insulted his personal bitch, you can kiss everything you've ever loved in life goodbye as it's destroyed in a sea of flames.
"So, why ARE you carrying the new kid, my pink sister?", Manic asks, breaking the ice.
"The nurse says he needs someone to watch over him for the next day or so, but his parents are too busy", Sonia explains.
"Oh right, his dad's in Black Ops, like the hit video game from Activision and Treyarch, Call of Duty: Black Ops II", Manic recalls, even more incorrectly and stilted than before.

You forgot to clear up the misunderstanding from Sonia earlier. Fuck. You're too exhausted to correct the record right now.
Well, maybe it won't spiral completely out of control by tomorrow.

"Yeah, so anyways, I offered to take Anon home with us so we can all keep watch over him, to make sure he doesn't die!" Sonia cheerfully continues.
"Sweet! He can tell us all about the people his dad's killed!", Manic replies, matching Sonia's excitement before taking your other free arm over his shoulders.
"C'mon, Anon! We've got a lotta walking to do!", Manic commands with a determined smile plastered across his face.

In spite of your best efforts, you somehow managed to make several good friends today.

Why can't anything go right for you?
END CHAPTER 4
Chapter 5 - Home Sweet Home

Flanked by two short woodland creatures to help stabilize your hopelessly feeble legs, you're marched across the neighborhood.
Maybe Sonic had a point complaining about having to walk this distance. Even if you were at your peak physical condition, this trek would be exhausting for you.
Despite your severely hampered locomotion, the three of you eventually catch up to the missing Hedgehog sibling, profusely sweating, vomit flecked on the sides of his mouth.
As Manic calls out to his blue brother, Sonic glowers at you.

"What the fuck, sibs?!", Sonic shouts. "Why the hell are you still carrying that retard?!"
"You threw your little bitch-fit before I could explain" Sonia retorted. "Anon's suffering from BMPS and needs someone to watch over him for the next few days"
...You're pretty sure it's just one day. Sonia seems to hear only what she wants to hear.
"Well, I'm not helping!", Sonic huffed. "Everyone's going to avoid talking to Bartleby now because of that faggot almost dying! He already has a hard enough time making friends!"
"Come on, my blue bro!", Manic pleaded. "He could die without our help!"
"Well, good! He deserves it after humiliating Bartleby like that!", the tubby terror bellowed back.

This is clearly not going to get better without your input. You pull yourself away from the two siblings to try and stand on your own two feet, and confront him directly.
The act clearly stuns Sonic, as his furious expression turns into one of surprise. After all, Bartleby's personal bitch would probably know the effects of BMPS better than anyone.
You walking about on your own so soon after your encounter with Bartleby is a nearly impossible feat of willpower.

"Sonic, I'm truly sorry if my fainting spell caused Bartleby any undue distress or discomfort", you apologize, as you stagger forward.
"It was never my intention to make him feel like a danger to anyone. I was just so awestruck by his presence that I couldn't bear to look away", your plea continues.
"However, dying then and there would have made mine the happiest death in the universe. Bartleby Montclair of Dresdin acknowledged my presence", you go on.
"Therefore, if or when I recover, I'll gladly spend the rest of the school year telling everyone that BMPS shouldn't be enough of a deterrent to keep them away from befriending Bartleby", you resume.
Your emotional appeal causes Sonia's eyes to well up with tears of pride, and Manic is giving an approving thumbs up. Sonic's face has turned from shocked to remorseful, averting his gaze away from you.
"After all, countless men and women die without ever even seeing Bartleby's face on TV, let alone in real life. Dying after witnessing his visage is the best way that I can think of to perish", you conclude, as your legs begin to buckle.
Sonia and Manic quickly retake their positions to keep you from pratfalling. Sonic turns his back towards you.

You didn't really take it in the last few times you saw it, but Sonic's mega-sized asscheeks are incredibly appetizing.
The image of a pair of perfectly spherical, spankable blueberries, each the size of your desktop monitor, speckled with chocolate between the divide, twinkling in the sunlight commands your attention.

"Well,", Sonic finally speaks, "I'm still not going to help carry you."
"But...I guess you can stay at our place for a bit, until you're better", your newfound cerulean savior announces, turning his head to show his smirking face.
It seems he's finally forgiven you. Thank fuck, if he went to Bartleby to fix this, you'd REALLY wind up dead.
"C'mon, sibs! Race ya home!", Sonic chipperly challenges his brother and sister.
The blue ball happily bounds off in the direction the rest of you were heading, and his two siblings drag you along after him.

After about five blocks of traveling, Sonia and Manic limp you up the walkway of an unassuming two-story suburban home.
You three passed Sonic about two blocks back as he ran out of breath again. As you carried on, you overheard the blue bowling ball lament and seethe over his weight problems.
"God damn it, I can't lose this race to a cripple, I'm Sonic the Hedgehog! I'm the fastest thing alive! Way Past Cool people don't lose races!" were the last words you heard from Sonic as the three of you left him in the dust.

"Here we are!", Sonia proudly announces. You're not sure why, but you expected their home to be less mundane than this.
A hole in the ground, a lavish manor, ANYTHING would be more notable than yet another McMansion identical to the countless ones you've passed by on your long journey.
You don't really have room to complain, though. That's just what Suburban America is like.

You decide to closely evaluate the hedgehog's natural habitat to try and discern any identifying characteristics.
Various kinds of withering flowers line a rockbed near the front porch. It seems they haven't been watered in weeks.
Perhaps the impending coming of Winter has deterred the upkeep of the yard, seeing as it's going to be covered in snow and ice before too long.

A black SUV sits in the driveway to the left of your current position. Its vanity license plate reads "HEDGEHO". Yeah, character limits are a bitch.
Although, why didn't they just cut out the 'E' instead? "HEDGHOG" would at least be more dignified and easier to understand.

You spot a broken-down swingset in the back yard, bent horribly out of shape and rusted into disrepair. No doubt the work of Sonic's blubbery ass years ago.

Beyond those things, not much else stands out to differentiate this house from the other countless doppelgangers that line the block.
Only a wooden sign hanging from the front door with the words, 'Hedgehog Family Home', and a cute image of four hedgehogs, one larger than the others, burnt into it catches your eye.
By 'hedgehogs', you mean the ones actually native to Earth that you're familiar with, not the Mobian kind which you've only just been introduced to today.

You, Manic, and Sonia finally trudge up to the front porch, and as you clumsily wipe your feet on the scratchy Welcome mat, the pink sibling opens the door ahead of you.
"Mama! We're home!", Sonia calls out, as the three of you enter the abode.

It appears the exterior of the house was a clever facade, concealing the absolute fucking warzone contained within.
Children's toys are strewn about haphazardly throughout the rooms visible to you, several of which seem more suited to toddlers than teenagers.
The ceiling has clearly had slapdash repairs done on it several times, as if some heavy objects have crashed through from the story above.
Sonic.
And finally, the overwhelming stench of cigarette smoke permeates the air. Which would explain why every visible smoke detector sits busted on their mounts.

"Kids? You're home awfully late", calls out an unfamiliar, somewhat dignified female voice from deeper in the home, no doubt 'Mama' Hedgehog.
She was right, the Sun was already starting to set by the time you got here. It's gotta be close to 6PM by now.
"Yeah, we missed the bus and had to walk", replied Manic. "Sonic should be here soon", he added.
"You've missed it before, but were usually back an hour earlier than this", the voice remarked. "Dinner's almost ready, and--"
The matriach of the household rounds the corner from the room down the hallway ahead and catches you in her sights, interrupting her train of thought.

The hedgehog's mother bears a remarkable resemblance to her children, and is almost as tall as you are, coated in a shade of royal purple fuzz.
Her hair is a much darker shade than her fuzz, almost black in color, wild and unkempt, covers most of her head and runs down to the small of her back, leaving only her ears exposed.
She's wearing a violet long-sleeved sweatshirt, similar in color to her fuzz, and a blank beige apron over it, save for some indeterminate dried stains splattered on it.
Black, form-fitting mom jeans and sneakers complete the ensemble.

Her face is wearing an expression somewhere between 'shock' and 'anger'.
The bags under her eyes display a sort of exhaustion that wasn't going to go away with a single good night's rest.
Her mouth hangs slightly agape as she stares you down, before she finally regains her composure to ask, with the same dignified intonation as before:

"Who the FUCK are YOU?"
END CHAPTER 5
Chapter 6 - Dance With Death

Caught off guard by her incredibly defensive about-face from her motherly vibes earlier, you sputter and stammer, trying to explain the situation.
However, BMPS, fear, and anxiety make a horrible cocktail with the effect of hampering comprehensibility in your speech.
"How did you get in this house? What are you doing with my kids?!", the mother's grilling intensifies.
"Damn. I knew she'd throw a shitfit", Manic grumbles. Did nobody seriously let this woman know you were coming? Why would everyone just assume she'd let a complete stranger in her home?

"Mama, wait! He's our friend from school!", Sonia cries, trying to defuse the situation.
"Bullshit! He's a pedophile trying to snatch you up!", the deranged matriach concludes. You curse your ill-timed growth spurts causing you to tower over a crazy woman's kid's despite being the same age as them.
"CHARLES! GET THE GUN!", the woman shouts towards the interior of the house.
"What are you dealing with", an unknown, masculine voice rings out from somewhere in the abode, "Pedophile, or Flash Mob?"
"PEDOPHILE.", the mom responds.
"Got it! Be right there, Aleena!", the male voice echoes, before stomping can be heard approaching your position.

This went from zero to five thousand in a blink of an eye. You shoot a terrified look at the two siblings flanking you, trying to get them to come up with something, quick.
"Mom, seriously! This guy isn't some pervert, he's really just the new kid at school! He's the same age as us!", Manic desperately tries to convince his paranoid mother.
"Christ, these pedophiles get younger every year", Aleena, whose name you learned from the voice earlier, somehow surmises.
The loud steps finally reach the crazed woman's location, and "Charles" arrives on the scene.

Drunkenly staggering into view is the Ugly Bastard from the Japanese porn comics you partake in with glee, wearing a big bushy gray mustache and an acid-washed Modern Sonic costume.
You unfortunately don't have the time to reassess the obviously incorrect vision in front of you, as you're now staring down the barrel of a Smith & Wesson .45-70 BFR.
"Kids. Get over here, NOW", ordered the purple parental figure. The twin siblings hesitantly leave your side, causing you to lose your balance.
Now on all fours, you stare up at the Hedgehog family with a no-doubt pitiful look on your face, wordlessly pleading the woman with a gun drawn to show mercy.

"Any last words, before I blow your perverted brains out?", threatens Aleena, as she cocks the hammer of her revolver.
The adrenaline pumping through your blood finally busts through your vocal apprehension, allowing you to shout out one string of coherent words:
"I'M NOT A PERVERT, I JUST HAVE BMPS!!!", your cry echoes through the humble abode. Aleena's death stare remains unflinching behind her gun.

"BMPS?", 'Charles' pipes up. "How could you possibly kidnap any sexy kids after suffering that?", he inquires. You don't know how to tackle the 'sexy kids' comment.
"He's new in town and was sat next to Bartleby in class", Sonia speaks, finding the words to explain the situation at last. Aleena finally breaks eye contact with you to look at her daughter.
"He managed to survive, but needs someone to watch over him until he fully recovers", the pink daughter pleads.
"Why can't his parents take care of this? He's THEIR kid", Mama Hedgehog asks, her weapon still pointed straight at you.
"His parents are too busy to keep watch 24/7", Manic interjects. "His dad's out killing people as a soldier, and his mom runs her own company", he continues the misunderstanding from earlier.
"PLEASE, mama. He needs our help", Sonia begs her mother, putting on the biggest, saddest, tear-filled doe eyes you've ever seen.

Aleena stares at her daughter's pitiful face for what feels like ages.

The silence is deafening. Sweat is dripping from every pore in your body.

Eventually, Aleena closes her eyes, and takes a long, slow, deep breath.

An incredibly loud bang suddenly erupts, piercing the silence. You let out the single most shrill, girlish wail you've ever emitted in your entire life.
Every part of your body is clenched in terror. Eyes, teeth, fists, anus, you've almost literally puckered yourself inside out from being startled.
It then occurs to you that you are unharmed. Tears start leaking out from your eyes from the relief as you nervously laugh to yourself.
You turn your attention to the source of the noise.

The front door to the house was kicked open by Sonic, standing behind you, pouting.
"Oh, there you are, sweetie", Aleena says to her blue son, as if she wasn't about to execute you in cold blood. "How was your day?", she inquires.
"It sucked, leave me alone", Sonic huffs, before slamming the front door shut and stomping towards the stairs.
"Oh for fuck's sake, what's wrong NOW?", an exasperated Aleena asks.
"He's just salty he lost the race home", Manic quipped.
"NO I'M NOT, SHUT UP!", the blue balloon furiously denies as he waddles up the nearby staircase, his every step met with a painful creak from the wood beneath his feet.
"I want a plate of chicken nuggets in my room in 5 minutes, or I'm crapping all over the bathtub again!", Sonic ordered.
"Sonic, we're having Mac and Cheese tonight", Aleena sternly declared to her bratty son. "It's almost ready right now"
"DID I FUCKING STUTTER, BITCH?!", the pudgy wretch snarled before disappearing out of view upstairs.

Aleena finally points her gun away from you as she buries her eyes in the palm of her hand, sucking air through her gritted teeth in a display of frustration.
"God damn it I don't have time to deal with this shit", she groans, before turning her attention back to her only daughter.
"...How long?", Aleena asks her, defeated.
"Just a few days, honest!", Sonia answers. "T-TWENTY TWO HOURS!", you frantically append, hoping the shorter timeframe would be more enticing.
Refusal after this absolute ordeal was unacceptable, no sense in being greedy.

"...Fine. But I don't have enough food prepared for him, so he's missing dinner", Aleena coldly agrees. Sonia's excitement spreads across her face.
The stress being lifted from your shoulders causes your arms to turn to jelly, making you simply flop onto the floor, like a puppet whose strings have been cut.
Aleena shoves the firearm she's holding into her front pocket before returning to the kitchen. Charles follows after, holding a can of beer he picked up during the confrontation.
Manic and Sonia return to your side to get you back on your feet, and lead you to the living room.
"Y-you guys go have dinner", you urge your comrades, as you're seated on the nearby couch. "I need to let my parents know I'm here, anyway, I'll be fine"
"Okay. We'll be back for you as soon as we're done!", Sonia confirms. "Take it easy, Anon", Manic says, patting your back as he bids farewell.
The two then leave the room, disappearing further into their home to enjoy their meal. You hear them indistinctly chatting through the walls.

You bury your face in your hands, heavily panting while wiping away the excessive amount of sweat pooled up over this agonizing event.
You've narrowly escaped death two different times today.
So much for a mundane first day of school.

It occurs to you that your parents most likely are completely unaware of your current condition, or that you need to be supervised at all.
You have no idea how you're going to word the message. They're probably freaking out right now, wondering where you even are.
No, wait, that's how normal parents would feel about this. YOUR parents hardly even know you exist.
Instead of struggling with getting the details right, waiting endlessly for a response, and potentially getting shot down for another idea far too late, you decide to keep things simple.
You pull out your phone, and send a single group text to both your mother and father with a plain, vague message:

staying at a friends house tonight
be home tomorrow
love you

Send.
It's 5:57 PM right now.
Let's see how long it'll be before one of them gets back to you.

As you put your phone away, a nearby door bursts open from further into the house, and Aleena comes rushing around the corner with a paper plate in hand, steam rising from it.
"SONIC, I SWEAR TO GOD, IF YOU'RE CRAPPING ANYWHERE OUTSIDE OF THE TOILET UP THERE, I'M SHOVING THESE PIPING-HOT DINO NUGGIES STRAIGHT UP YOUR BLUEBERRY ASSHOLE", Aleena shouts as she races upstairs.

You have a feeling this wild night's only just begun.
END CHAPTER 6
Chapter 7 - Dinner and a Show

Ten minutes have passed since everyone else went to have their dinner. Sonic toddled downstairs and rejoined his family to have his share a little bit after the rest.
You really hope he was bluffing with that whole 'bathtub crapping' ultimatum he issued earlier.
Considering how quick Aleena had his nuggets ready, however, it's clear she had experienced something like that first-hand before.

You've been sitting silently in the Hedgehog's living room, taking in your surroundings, but your vantage point doesn't yield much information about the house as a whole.
From what you've seen since you entered, the first floor is laid out something like this:
From the front door, the entryway splits off into two areas. On the right is the living room, where you're currently seated.
To the left is a sort of waiting area, with a staircase along the far left wall leading upstairs. You found out there's an old grandfather clock over there a few minutes ago, when it went off at 6 PM.
A hallway divides the two areas, leading further into the house, where, behind a swinging door, rests the kitchen or dining area, you assume. It's where the others disappeared in order to eat, you feel like that's a safe bet.
Upstairs is probably where the bedrooms are, as Sonic demonstrated earlier during his tantrum upon his return.
Beyond that, the house is still an enigma, and it's likely to stay that way. Not only has BMPS drastically reduced your ambulatory functions, you REALLY don't want to piss Aleena off by overstepping your boundaries.

You lean back in the aged brown leather couch you sit in. You're positioned in the left-hand side of it, cradled up against the arm.
Cracks have formed all across it from age and lack of upkeep. It's missing a few buttons in the upholstery. It also reeks of years' worth of flatulence and possibly worse.
And, most noticeably, it's sagging horribly in the center.
But right now, it's the comfiest seat in the world. After the absolute hellish day you've gone through, just sitting down with nothing to worry about killing you is liberating.
You close your eyes and just enjoy the tranquility.

The muffled chatter of the hedgehog family amidst the clatter of their flatware is all that reverberates through the house.

You take a deep, calming breath.

In through your nose. Ignore the stink of ashtrays and farts.

Hold for a few seconds.

And release.

Peace.

A horrid gurgling noise breaks through the calm, snapping you out of your trance. You frantically look around at what could possibly be emitting such a racket.
Nothing nearby seems to fit the sound emission, though. It's only when the noise occurs a second time that you realize what's going on.
It's your stomach growling.

...When was the last time you ate?
You were passed out for the duration of school, so you didn't eat lunch there. You didn't even stop for a snack of any sort.
Oh Christ, all you've had was that crappy frozen waffle 12 hours ago, you're fucking starving.
And Aleena said you're not getting any of their dinner tonight.

You start panicking internally. This BMPS shit is no joke, the last thing you want to do is face it while malnourished.
But what can you do? Order something? You fish for your wallet to see how much money you've got on you.
A single picture of George Washington stares back at you from your billfold. A whole dollar. You honestly wish you had nothing instead, at least that'd be funny, in a cosmic sense. Maybe a little moth would fly out.

You feel completely lost, and your stomach sounds like it's eating itself. You slump forward in your seat, sulking about your newfound rotten luck.
Suddenly, a small bowl of macaroni and cheese is shoved into your field of view under your nose.
"Hey, Anon", said Sonia, just outside of your vision. "I made you a bowl in secret while mom was busy getting Sonic his chicken nuggets"
You peel your gaze away from the meal to give a teary look at your pink savior. She winks and shines her trademark smile at you in return.
You take the bowl, filled with what looks like the most appetizing meal ever in this moment, without saying anything.
Not because you aren't thankful, but because no words could properly express your gratitude.

You wouldn't say you're a big fan of Mac & Cheese in the first place. There's barely anything nutritious about it.
The cheese sauce is kinda gritty and tastes weird. Kraft fucked up their recipe ages ago and haven't gotten it right since.

But you don't care.
You simply fucking demolish the food in front of you. You didn't even bother taking the fork Sonia had in her other hand.
After devouring the last of the noodles and slurping the last remnants of sauce stuck to the bowl, you wipe your face with your sleeve and hand the empty bowl back to your ally.
But not before uttering a simple "Thanks" as you gasp for air after the rather barbaric display.
Sonia gives a quick nod, and rushes back to the kitchen, no doubt to hide the evidence of your transgression.

Shortly afterwards, the Hedgehogs all pour out of the kitchen, save for Aleena, who is most likely on clean-up duty. This includes Charles, to whom you haven't properly introduced yourself.
Charles is carrying some sort of folding chair in his left arm, and clutching a can of Bud Light in his right. He moves to the open space next to where you're sitting on the couch and unfolds the chair without setting down his beer.
An impressive feat.
"You're gonna wanna move over here", Charles says to you curtly. You don't understand, did you offend him or something?
Maybe this is how they treat all their guests.
Well, best to comply. You don't want a repeat of the one-way Mexican standoff from earlier.

You struggle to lift yourself off the sofa, before awkwardly finagling your way to the significantly less comfy rusted steel chair.
Sonia immediately takes your previous spot, Manic takes the opposite end, and Sonic takes up a massive portion of the middle. His weight causes the two ends of the sofa to raise off the ground, slightly.
This would explain the sagging.
Charles takes his seat in the recliner on the opposite end of the sofa from you, sipping his beer before letting out a belch. He then grabs a remote off the nearby table and turns on the TV to some outdated Hollywood schlock.

Now that you have a moment to look closely at the newest member of the hedgehog family, you realize he looks almost exactly the same as Sonic.
The few key differences are he's closer to you in height, slightly less heavy-set (most likely just distributed better due to his size), sports a bushy, silver-colored mustache, upturned at the edges, and his fur is a significantly more pale shade of blue, almost gray in some spots.
Charles even wears his 'hair' in the same fashion as Sonic, and has the same style of footwear. You ponder who's copying whom in their fashion sense.

You decide now is as good a time as any to introduce yourself to him.
"Um, thank you, sir", you say after clearing your throat. "My name's Anon, by the way. Uh, nice to meet you."
"Yeah, I heard all about it from those two over there a little bit ago", the mustachioed hedgehog replies, motioning towards the kids on the couch. "Call me 'Uncle Chuck'", he introduces himself.
'Uncle' Chuck? That's a little too uncomfortable for you. Though, truth be told, you don't even remember if your parents had any brothers or sisters.
If they did, you haven't been invited to any of the family reunions.

"So," Chuck says, cutting off your internal monologue regarding your dysfunctional family, "Manic tells me your dad's a military man."
That's about the closest anyone's come to being correct regarding your father's job today. It's still off, but at least it's not him being in Black Ops.
"I think that's pretty cool", Chuck compliments, before returning to nursing his light beer.
"Yeah!", interrupts Sonic. "I mean, killing people and being called a hero is every boy's dream!"
Okay, you've had enough of this idiotic misunderstanding. You had to clean up this mess, NOW.

"Oh, for Pete's sake, my dad hasn't killed anybody!", you shout in frustration. You know it will disappoint them, but it's better they know the truth before it snowballs into something worse.
The reaction you get, however, isn't quite what you expected would happen. Instead of disappointment, it's more akin to indignation.
"WHAT?!", bellows Manic. "The only reason I helped your gay ass was because I wanted to hear stories about how your dad killed people!", he griped.
Taken aback by the unexpected backlash, you merely utter a thoughtless 'uhh'.
"Yeah, you're telling me we're helping a LIAR recover from BMPS?!", Sonic adds.
"Not if I have anything to say about it!", Chuck chimes in. He crushes his now empty beer can and tosses it aside to reach down beside his recliner for something.
The distinct jingle of a metal buckle heralds the introduction of a thick leather belt the eldest hedgehog produces as he returns to an upright position.

Your eyes quickly pass over the room to assess the situation.
Chuck is rising to his feet, belt in hand.
Manic is cracking his knuckles as he gives you the stink eye.
Sonic points at your face menacingly before gesturing towards his ass.
Jason Statham grunts in british-flavored emphysema on the TV screen before unloading a hail of bullets on some fool.
Sonia...has been staring at you this entire time with her iconic adorable smile. She seems completely oblivious to what's happening around her.

You had to think, FAST. How could you possibly defuse this ticking timebomb in mere seconds?
They glorify mindless violence under a paper-thin veil of patriotism.
Just like Call of D--
...THAT'S IT!!

"W-WAI-WAI-WAI-WAAAAAIT!", you desperately cry out as the male hedgehogs descend upon you.
They stop their advance, but keep their brows furrowed. You have the floor, but you better get this in one shot.
"U-uhm, th-the reason my dad hasn't k-killed anybody yet", you stammer, your voice palpable with fear. "Is because, uh..."
You trail off as your mind races, urgently attempting to come up with a believable explanation. Finally, you nut up and say the only thing that comes to mind.

"b-because people keep stealing his kills?"

Anon, you're a fucking idiot.
There is absolutely no way in hell that anyone's going to--
"KILLSNAKES.", Manic grunts through gritted teeth, clenching his hand into a fist in front of him.
"There's nothing worse than someone else stealing a kill you had claimed", Chuck solemnly declares. "Your father has my condolences."
"Yeah, the only thing worse than a killsnake is a screenlooker", Sonic pipes up. "MANIC.", he then loudly adds, shooting an accusatory glare to his green twin.
"Bro, don't EVEN go there", the emerald-hued hedgehog angrily snaps back. "You're worse about screen-looking than me!"
The twin males continue bickering as Chuck leaves the room, presumably to get another beer.

It's official: You're now part of the lie.

Once again, you sigh in relief. This fucking day has to have aged you at least ten years.
As you slump forward in your folding chair, catching your breath, you feel a pair of eyes burning into your skull.
You look up to see Sonia is STILL gazing at you, not once moving from the position she was in since she took your spot.

"What?", you finally ask the rose-colored hedgehog sister.
Instead of answering you, Sonia licks her thumb and rubs it on your cheek.

"You missed a spot", she states as you shoot her a flustered look. You then avert your eyes as your face turns a shade of crimson.
END CHAPTER 7
Chapter 8 - Slumber Party

For a while, things seemed to have ultimately calmed down.
The Hedgehog boys' bickering led them to challenge each other to playing some milsim First-person Shooter game you weren't familiar with.
The matches eventually devolved into the two of them trying to 360 quickscope each other, with neither one succeeding for forty minutes straight.

Chuck had downed at least 5 cans of Bud Light at this point, drunkenly urging the twin boys on to 'rip each other a new asshole'.
Aleena, having removed her apron since dinnertime, simply watched on from the hallway, taking drags off her Marlboro Reds. She kept her eyes on you like a hawk.
At one point, Sonia had to escort you to the first floor bathroom, because you realized you hadn't gone all day.
She attempted to join you inside, but Aleena forced her to leave you alone to fend for yourself at that point.

Truth be told, even though you've narrowly cheated death more than once in this house, it was actually starting to feel somewhat cozy to you.
Maybe it was a stupid idea, considering how fucking nuts some of the family was, but you actually felt like you could finally relax.

Eventually, you hear the old grandfather clock herald the arrival of 9 o'clock.

"Alright, kids", Aleena finally spoke, after puffing one last drag from her cigarette. "Time for bed."
Upon hearing those words, the brothers groan in disappointment, having failed to successfully perform their stunt before their time ran out.
You struggle to rise to your feet from your rusted throne. Though you're slightly more stable on your legs than you were when you first rejoined the world of the living, you still require support to actually stand and walk.
However, as Sonia's about to help you once more, Aleena actually jumps in to take her place.

"Sonia, sweetie, you've done enough for today", the hedgehog mother says. "You get ready for bed, I'll handle this"
Aleena then takes your left arm over her shoulder, bringing you in close. The pungent stench of tobacco smoke emanates off her.

The lady of the house, being quite a bit older and taller than her daughter, treats your weight as much less of a burden, letting you move faster.
Sonia and Manic race upstairs easily, Sonic barely scrapes through as his fat rolls catch on every baluster of the handrail, and you and Aleena bring up the rear.
Once upstairs, you finally get a view of the layout therein. It's actually fairly simple:

After climbing the staircase, you follow along a balcony towards the right-hand side of the house, becoming a hallway that eventually turns left to head deeper inside.
Along the walkway are several doors on the left and right sides.
The first door on your left is actually visible from the waiting room, but everyone seems to ignore it for now, so you have no clue what lies behind it.
The first door on your right is when the balcony becomes a full hallway. Again, no one enters it, so it remains a mystery.
The next door on your right, however, is where you see Sonic waddle into, right before the hallway makes a turn. The light inside was already on as he did so, which means it's probably where one of the other kids entered as well.
Aleena leads you to the lit room the hedgehog siblings entered, and you're predictably greeted by a bedroom.

Inside sat two distinct beds. One, on the right side of the room, sat a huge, extremely comfy looking queen-sized bed, adorned with pink, frilly sheets and a massive, ornate headboard.
On the left side of the room sat a hopelessly dilapidated bunk bed, with the bed's frames bowing to a horrifying degree from no doubt years of duress under an impossible amount of weight.
You could take a guess at whose bed belonged to whom.
Near the bunk bed, along the left wall, close to the bottom-left corner of the room, a sole window peers out over the street corner. The light of the street lamp shines dimly outside, peeking through the drawn curtains.
Centered between the two beds is a nightstand of some sort placed against the wall, with a digital alarm clock on it. 9:05 it currently reads.

As you look around your lodgings for the night, you spot Sonia digging through a dresser stowed in the lower-right corner of the room, colored in a disgustingly saccharine shade of cotton candy pink, before pulling out a set of pajamas and leaving the room.
Your eyes follow her as she enters the door closest to the stairs which you passed earlier. You then spot one last room at the end of the hallway.

Manic has tossed his vest and shoes off and is fitting himself into a baby-blue onesie that still somehow fits him.
Sonic sheds his shoes in kind and dons a pink one matching his brother, though his blue flab is clearly peeking through several spots in the seams.

Aleena, clearly having enough of your burden, leans you up against a nearby wall and lets out a sigh of relief. As you slide to the floor helplessly, you meekly utter "thanks".
The purple matron places her hands on her hips and stretches her back, some oddly satisfying pops and crackles being heard as she slowly swivels her head from side to side.

Sonia then returns to the room, having changed her clothes to a pale pink silk pajama outfit with white trimmings. The legs seem a bit long, as they drag somewhat along the ground.
With the siblings reunited, Aleena begins laying out the plan for everyone.
"Alright, Manic, you're giving up your bunk tonight for Anon", she orders. Manic's indignation flares up immediately.
"Aw, WHAT?!", the green hedgehog cries in disbelief. "Why do I have to give up MY bed?!"
"Because I refuse to have Sonia sleep in your farts, and Sonic sleeping in your bunk would completely destroy the frame", Aleena responds. She actually thought this out decently enough.
"This fucking blows!", Manic loudly whines. "He could have just slept on the couch and let Uncle Chuck watch him!"
"You know as well as I do that Uncle Chuck legally isn't allowed to be alone near sleeping underaged boys", Aleena retorts.
You REALLY hope there's another explanation to that response than what you're thinking of at this moment.

"Come on, baby bro", Sonic says to the grassy-headed hedgehog, as he places his hand on Manic's shoulder. "We haven't slept in the same bunk in ages. This'll be a great way to bond as brothers!"
"Ha ha, well when you put it that way, bro,", Manic chuckles, as he turns to face his brother. "I guess I can put up with it for one night"
The two hedgehog boys embrace each other in a strangely intimate way, tugging at each other's collars. The odd display makes you uncomfortable, causing you to look away.
Sonia squints at the two with a look of suspicion on her face.

"Right, then, Anon, time to get into Manic's bunk", Aleena commands, as she bends down to lift you by your arm.

Oh shit. How the hell are you going to climb a ladder when your limbs are completely paralyzed?
This fucking day just will not let up.
Finally rising to your feet, you're led over to the bunk bed's ladder, where you clutch one of the rungs as if your life depended on it.

You huff and puff, trying to internally hype yourself up for the task in front of you.
You can do this.
If you can't do this, you're going to be a cripple all your life.
Okay. Moment of truth.
You lift your right leg with all your might to try and set your foot on the lowest rung.
It catches underneath the rung.
You pull your foot back to try to clear it.
You bump your foot against it. Almost there.
Just a little bit more.
You just need to get your toes over it.
Your perspiration reaches its peak with the strain you're putting yourself through.
COME ON!
JUST...
ONE...
MORE...
INCH!

Your right foot finally slides atop the bottom rung. You did it.
Looking at your marvelous achievement, you start to laugh triumphantly. You CAN come back from this debilitating disease. For once, things seem to be going your way.

"Oh for fuck's sake, we'll be here all night", Aleena exasperatedly groans, rolling her eyes. She then marches towards you and grabs you by the back of your collar and waistband.
She then launches you upwards towards the upper berth. Your arms flail helplessly through the air before you land on the railing of the bed with your abdomen. You sharply let out a pained groan.
She's surprisingly strong when agitated. Noted.

As you weakly worm the rest of your body into the bed, you come across an unsightly scene.
Manic's mattress has a massive hole in it. As in, you can actually clearly see down into Sonic's bunk. You could stick your whole head through it with room to spare.
From the location of the pillows, and calculating Manic's size, the hole is precisely where Manic's asscheeks would rest, so long as he's laying on his back.
You figured you'd be stuck with less-than-ideal sleeping conditions, but this is just ludicrous.

You eventually manage to crawl your head into the pillows. It seems every cushion in this house reeks of farts. This bed, the pillows, the couch downstairs, all of them and probably more act as prisons for flatulence.
Well, whatever. Any place to lay your head down seems like a heavenly cloud at this point.
The two hedgehog boys cling to each other tightly in the bunk below you, and Sonia has crawled into her much more massive and well-made bed.

With everyone tucked in for the night, Aleena turns off the light to the room.
"Good night, boys", she says to your side of the room. "Night, mom", responds the twins below you.
"Good night, Sonia", Aleena then says to her daughter on the other side of the room. You may be mistaken, but her voice had a much more sultry tone to it this time.
"Night, Mama", Sonia innocently replies.

Before the mother can leave the room, a thought occurs to you, and you pipe up.
"Um, wait a sec. Isn't someone supposed to keep an eye on me?", you ask, concerned for your safety.
"...Don't be a bitch, Anon", Aleena coldly replies to you. "Just focus on not dying", she says, before closing the door behind her and walking down the hall.

It suddenly occurs to you that you probably could have just gone to a proper hospital to have them take care of you instead. Why the hell did you come here?

You try to ignore the feelings of dread and doom welling up within you and decide to try and sleep through it. Even if someone watches you, there's still every chance you'll just die in your sleep.
You silently pray to whatever deity will listen to allow you to survive the night, before gently closing your eyes.

You focus on your breathing getting slower. More relaxed.
You WILL wake up tomorrow. You WILL be okay. You WILL get through this.
With these thoughts repeating in your head, you finally drift off to sleep.

...

...

...you felt something just now.

...it's tugging your leg. You can barely feel it, but there's definitely something there right now.

You groggily open your eyes to see what's causing the problem. Manic has climbed the bed's ladder and is pulling at your leg, trying to drag it out of the bed.
"Manic, what the fuck are you doing", you ask, dazed. You glance down towards the alarm clock towards the middle of the room. It's 11:08.
"I changed my mind. I want my bed back", he responds.
"W-Why?", you ask, completely confused by his heartless action.
"Sonic crapped himself in his sleep again. I'm not dealing with that shit", the viridian menace explains as he continues trying to pull your limp legs out of the bunk.
"Manic", you plead, "I will SHARE the bed with you. PLEASE don't do this"
"Or else what?", he retorts mockingly. "You gonna have your dad come here and have someone ELSE kill me?"

Completely dumbfounded by Manic's change of heart from the friendly boy who helped limp you to his house earlier this afternoon, you lay in stunned silence.
He then grabs you by your shirt and starts to pull. You feebly try to resist, but it's no use, your arms and legs won't respond in any meaningful way.
Your shoulders graze over the railing of the bed, and you're sent plummeting to the floor below, screaming all the way down before landing in a resounding THUD.
As you lay writhing in pain, Manic scrambles into his bunk, and, just as you surmised earlier, leaves his asscheeks visible through the hole in his mattress.

"KIDS!", Aleena screams through the walls. "STOP HORSING AROUND IN THERE AND GO TO FUCKING BED!"
You're in too much pain to vocalize anything more than a weak moan.
As you lay helplessly on the ground, tears of pain and frustration start to well up in your eyes.
Fucking WHY?
WHY WILL THIS DAY NOT END?!
Unable to even pound the floor in vexation, you simply start sobbing. This has been the worst day of your life.
Can something good happen for ONCE today?!

"Anon?", the single most welcome voice you've heard today quietly rings out from the darkness.
You open your tear-filled eyes and see Sonia standing over you.
"What happened?", she whispers, concerned.
"...Your brother's a dick", you flatly reply.

"Manic!", Sonia angrily hisses towards the top bunk. Manic replies by simply waving his middle finger at her before returning to sleep.
"Come on, Anon", she sighs as she tries to bring you to your feet once more. As you clamber to a standing position, you catch exactly what happened to cause Manic to abandon Sonic's bunk.
Manic wasn't joking about Sonic shitting his bed, it looks like a can of Hormel chili fucking exploded from within his asshole. The sight and smell cause you to gag in your throat a bit.
You understand why Manic didn't want to sleep in that literal shit. That doesn't justify him throwing you out, but it does explain it.

After eventually being stood upright by Sonia, the two of you limp towards her bed, where she sets you down.
"You can stay with me tonight", Sonia kindly offers. You feel like you're gonna cry again, but from joy.
Sonia climbs into her bed from the other side as you straighten yourself out on it. You feel like you could fall into a coma just laying on this mattress.

...Maybe don't think that when you're struggling with a disease with a 98% mortality rate.

When you get into the position you're most comfortable in, Sonia tosses the covers up over the two of you.
Cozy, and exhausted, you're finally ready to let the sandman take his hold of you.
Just as you feel your eyelids becoming heavy, however, a strange sensation assaults your midsection, setting off alerts in your head.
A squeezing sensation.
Alarmed, you look down at the source.

Sonia is hugging you tightly on your left side.

"...What are you doing, Sonia", you ask in a hushed voice.
"If I sleep with you like this, I can hear your heartbeat and breathing", she tacitly explains. "Now I can monitor you AND get some sleep!"
While that makes sense, any sense of comfort you had has been completely overwritten with bewilderment.
Now you can properly assess exactly what the fuck is going on right now.

You're in bed with a cute, sweet girl hugging you, hoping you don't die.

aaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
HOW DID THIS HAPPEN TO YOU OF ALL PEOPLE?

You lay in the pink bed, eyes wide open, as you struggle to comprehend the feelings swirling about in your skull.
You keep your arms as far from Sonia as possible, to avoid any potential inappropriate touching and fondling.
She's nestled up tightly against you. You're pretty sure you can feel her modest breasts pressed against your ribs.

Exhaustion finally begins to grip you after almost an hour like this. You're about to fall asleep, accepting this day is finished in the single least expected way possible.
Then, a buzzing comes from your pants.
Fishing your phone from your pocket, you see a new text message has arrived. Who the fuck is texting you at this hour? Or at all?
Oh, wait, shit, it's probably one of your parents. No doubt they finally received word from their only son for the first time today and are worried sick. Let's see what this text has to say.

You (5:57):
staying at a friends house tonight
be home tomorrow
love you

Mom (11:56):
K

...
You stare dead-eyed at your phone's screen until it fades into sleep mode.

Your last thought before passing out is wondering whose family between yours and the Hedgehogs is more fucked up.
END CHAPTER 8
Chapter 9 - The Long Walk

The most comfortable sleep you've had in ages is interrupted by an unusually catchy j-pop song blaring from incredibly cheap and shitty speakers, making the vocals even more unintelligible.
Your eyes peel open to try and ascertain the source of the noise. It's the alarm clock on the nightstand. It reads 6:55.
The dawn's daylight is peeking through a nearby window into the bedroom you fell asleep in last night. You survived, somehow.

You rub your eyes, trying to clear the crusty buildup, as the Hedgehog siblings rouse from their slumbers.
Sonia stretches her back and arms before shaking her head back and forth, causing her hair to fall into the same shape it was yesterday.
Manic yawns loudly before scratching his ass as he sits up with a drowsy look on his face.
Sonic rolls over into the mess he made last night. "O-Oh no, not again", the fat blue bastard whines, covered in his own dookie.

Manic, the green bunghole, climbs down from the bunk he stole from you and shuts off the clock's alarm, and grabbing a shirt and pants he finds on the floor.
His sister has left her bed to fish another outfit from her pastel nightmare dresser, and his brother has wriggled his way out of his shit-stained mattress on the lower bunk, and begins toddling off towards the hallway, hopefully to the shower.

You inch yourself to the edge of the bed, pondering how much progress your nerves have made in recovering. Taking a deep breath, you attempt to stand on your own two feet.
And you succeed. You're a little shaky, but you don't feel like you're going to collapse immediately. Hell yeah. Now comes the next part: Walking. You try to raise your right foot to move it forward.
The incredible amount of numb tingling warns you that you're already pushing too hard at this point, but you actually manage to put one foot in front of the other. You're on fucking fire this morning.
Almost literally, it feels like.
You try once more with your left foot this time. Yet another success, though the numbness still remains, it's much more tolerable than yesterday.

"Hey, guys, look! I'm walking!", you exclaim excitedly.
"Cool beans, Anon", Manic says, acting as if he wasn't a complete asshole last night.
"Maybe I can actually go to school like this", you wonder out loud.

Sonia approaches you with her chosen outfit for the day under one of her arms, and pokes a single finger into your solar plexus.
With an embarrassingly low amount of force, she pushes you back until you lose balance and fall on your ass.
"Nnnnnope, sorry, Anon", Sonia cheekily says, rebuking your optimism. "Nurse's orders: No school for another 9 hours"
"Why would you even WANT to go to school, anyway?", Manic asks, having changed into his outfit, a dirty white wife-beater and loose black shorts. "Homework sucks", he adds with absolutely no argument from you.

"So, wait, if you guys are all going to school, who's going to help me?", you ask, as if you didn't already know the answer.
"Why, Mama, of course!", Sonia cheerily responds.
Oh, goody.
As you roll your eyes, you spot a certain purple someone waiting in the doorway of the bedroom.
Aleena, wearing a baggy plain white t-shirt and cadet blue sweat pants, leans against the door frame, with a coffee mug in hand, steam rising from the insides of it.
The mug has '#1 Mom' printed on it. She stares coldly at you as she silently brings the mug to her lips.

Oh.
GOODY.

"Kids, breakfast is ready", Aleena says to her progeny, maintaining eye contact with you.
"Alright, Anon, we gotta get ready to go!", Sonia tells you in her usual spritely way, completely oblivious to the dread building within you.
"Have fun here with mom, while we go to learn, ugh, MATH", Manic grunts as he squeezes by his mother.
Sonia then follows suit with her day's outfit in tow, leaving you still on the floor.

With the rest of the hedgehogs gone, your attention returns to Aleena, still in her same position, holding her mug with the ironic saying on it.
You attempt to force yourself off the floor, but your legs still don't have the strength to push you up from your current position. You lean forward to try and get a better angle, but nothing works.
After a few more failed tries, you meekly look up at the amethyst matron with pleading eyes, holding out your hand.
"A little help, please?", you timidly ask.
Aleena's steely gaze is transfixed upon you for a few more moments, then, as she sips on her coffee once more, she simply walks down the hall as if she didn't see you.

OH.

GOODY FUCKING GUMDROPS.
This day was going to be a fucking GAS, you could already tell.

You twist your hips to flop your belly on the floor, and crawl to Sonia's bed, the nearest stable thing to help you pull yourself to your feet.
Maybe it was the realization that you weren't going to get shit for help today, but you find yourself actually managing to rise to a standing position surprisingly quickly.
The numbness that had spread to your limbs yesterday was slowly fading, leaving a significantly more painful burning, stinging sensation, but at least it was any sensation at all.
If you've ever tried walking on a leg that's fallen asleep, this was a very similar feeling, only worse, as it was like all your extremities had fallen asleep all at once.

After putting your self in a standing position, hunched over the bed, using it as support, you attempt to worm your way towards the nearest wall.
Pins and needles assault your every step. This tingling would have driven you mad if you had tried to go to school today.
You press up against the wall furthest from the exit, and begin to slowly meander your way around the perimeter of the room, hoping your paralyzed limbs acclimate to moving before too long.
By the time you've make it to the bunk bed, you've begun sweating excessively. You lean against the ladder, eyeballing the feces-covered sheets on the lower bunk, as you catch your breath.
The stench emanating from it is unmerciful. How the hell did Dino Nuggies and Mac & Cheese turn into that SLURRY?

After regaining your stamina, if only slightly, you continue your limping around the perimeter, clutching and pawing at any surface along the way to keep you from falling.
You make it almost halfway around the left-hand side of the room, and you come across the window. You peer out at the sea of nearly identical homes in the neighborhood.
You spot a couple of other children leaving their homes, no doubt heading to school, like the Hedgehogs will be in moments.
Normally, you loathe going to school. Homework, social anxiety, bullies, possible molestation, forced conformity, you hate all of it.
But right now, there's no place you'd rather be going. At least it would feel normal.

Instead, you're stuck in an almost complete stranger's home as a cripple, being "cared" for by someone who clearly doesn't like, trust, or even know you.
Someone who almost blew your brains out with a fucking .45.
That being said, you WERE trespassing in her home without her permission. It's not like she was COMPLETELY in the wrong.
No, wait, she thought you were a pedophile trying to nab her kids. Even though you're the same age as them. She's absolutely in the wrong.
Maybe you won't tell Aleena about Sonic's crapped sheets. It'd serve her right.
...Nah, she did let you stay here. And you got to sleep with Sonia because of that.

...Don't word it like that.

"Bye, kids", you hear, muffled, coming from below you. "Have fun at school!"
Your eyes drift down towards the street corner. Aleena's waving her kids off as they leave to catch the bus.
"Bye, Mama!", Sonia replies, as she excitedly skips off ahead of her two brothers. Sonic and Manic are shuffling along with much less vigor.
"Take good care of Anon!", the pink daughter tells her mother. "Oh, don't worry about him", the purple mother responds. "He's in GREAT hands", she continues, ominously.

You glance over at the alarm clock once more. 7:15, it reads. You've been crawling around this room for a quarter of an hour?
Damn you, time dilation.

You return your attention back to the departing Hedgehog siblings.
You wave your left arm, hoping to catch their attention to see them off, but they all continue down the block before turning out of view.
Seems they didn't notice you. You let out a sigh as you hang your head for a moment.
After the disappointment subsides, you continue your journey around the bedroom, until finally making it to the door.

You clutch the door frame and, with wobbly knees, exit into the hallway.
With no windows and the lights turned off, the hallway is surprisingly dark. Fortunately, the light from the front rooms shine the way for you.
You stagger weakly down the hall, leaning against the walls as you pass the doors lining the way.
You stub your toe on a small drawer along the way. The pain shoots through your leg like someone blew it off with a grenade.
"MOTHERFUC--OW!!!", you shout with a strained voice.

Wait.
You FELT that.
God damn, you're a trooper, getting the feeling back in your feet. You feel proud over your grand achievement of bumping into shit like a clumsy oaf.

With pride overwriting your agony, you sidle by the drawer and eventually stumble your way into the light ahead of you, onto the balcony of the waiting room.
As you lean on the railing overlooking the room, the realization of what the next obstacle you're about to face is dawns on you.

Every cripple's natural enemy.

STAIRS.

Your pride from earlier completely obliterated by your newfound dread, your legs begin to feel like lead weights once more.
Still, you soldier ahead towards the danger. You can't stay up here all your life. You'll have to pee eventually and you're NOT about to piss your pants in Sonia's home.
As you come to the top post of the stairwell, your dread has become exacerbated. That's a lot of fucking stairs for you to descend.
Maaaaaybe pissing your pants here is actually within the realm of possibility.

Nervously, you grip the nearby post with all your might as you push your left foot forward into the air above the first step before you.
You then gently, GENTLY lower your foot onto it.
Okay. Halfway there. Now the right foot.
You hesitantly start sliding your right foot towards the edge of the top step. Then, placing all your weight on your left foot, you swing your right ahead slightly, causing it to drop onto the step your left foot rests on.

You did it! One down...
uhm...
Oh fuck, like, TWENTY to go. Uuuuugh.

You repeat the agonizingly slow process several times, continuing your descent downwards.
During this snail-paced schlepp, you noticed the handrail is actually somewhat unstable. It wobbles out of place when enough weight is put on it.
God fucking damn it Sonic, why are you so fucking fat?

Stowing your fear and frustration, you keep up your pace, declining further down towards the waiting room.
After what feels like hours of anxiety and apprehension, you finally make it to the bottom landing. Just two more steps to go, and you'll be free from your upstairs prison.
Wheelchairs can suck it, you've conquered the apex predator of the disabled.
Proudly, you swing your left foot forward. Fuck it. You'll skip a step. You've got this.

As your left foot comes down, your right leg buckles. You most certainly DON'T got this.
With your right leg giving up the ghost, your left leg also gives way to the sudden, massive shift in weight.
Your body drops like a sack of potatoes, ending with you landing squarely on your face, right leg in the air.

You really don't have anyone else to blame for this. You got overconfident and ate shit because of it. That frustration and pain is all YOUR fault.
...Fuck that. Gravity's the REAL fucker in this scenario.
You lift your face off the floor, groaning in pain, when suddenly, the grandfather clock goes off.
Wait, it's seriously 8:00 already? Going downstairs from the bedroom, a task that would have taken anyone else less than a minute, took you a full fucking HOUR?!
...You're starting to lose hope that you'll ever be back to full functionality of your limbs before the school year's over. You might be like this forever.

NO. God damn it, you ARE getting better. This is just a minor setback. You'll be running after the bus by tomorrow, just fucking wait and see.
You twist your body and roll over onto your back. Huffing and puffing, you then sit up straight, and begin pushing against the floor with your hands to raise your butt off the ground.
For some reason, your arms are functioning much better than your legs. Maybe their shorter length allowed them to recover from the nerve damage faster?
Whatever the case, your plan is working. Your lower half is raising up slightly, giving you just enough leverage to swing your feet beneath your ass.

You're in a very similar position to the one after Sonia knocked you down this morning. But this time...
THIS TIME. YOU'RE GETTING THE FUCK UP.
You force as much feeling into your legs as you possibly can, and with every ounce of energy you have, you push and strain to rise up off the floor.
By some miracle, through sheer willpower, you start to rise. You grip the nearby baluster for added stability, but you can feel your legs are finally starting to work.
With one last warcry, you reach a full standing position.

No support.
No one else helping you.
You're drenched in your own sweat, but you're standing on your own two feet.
In that span of a single hour, you managed to improve this much.
You feel like you could take on the world right now.

"Could you keep it down over there?", a dignified, familiar voice calls out from the living room.
The wind taken out of your sails, you desperately stumble to the nearest wall to hug, before your legs give out once more.
Stabilized, you begin your journey anew, heading in the direction of Aleena's voice.
You pass by the front door, and catch a glimpse of where the violet maiden is.

She's currently seated where you (and subsequently Sonia) were last night, on the left side of the couch.
She has exchanged her coffee mug for a wine glass, filled with a red substance.
The big box of wine on the table tells you exactly what the substance is.
END CHAPTER 9
Chapter 10 - Queen of a Dead World

Shakily entering the living room, you take a seat on the recliner near the opposite end of the couch Aleena's sitting on.
You sink into the unusually thick cushions. A pungent whiff of methane assaults you as it's freed from the confines of the chair.
As you're catching your breath from your pain-stakingly long trek, you observe the matron's surroundings and behavior.

The best way to describe Aleena's posture is 'lounging'. She has both feet on the couch, almost like she's riding it side-saddle. Her right leg is slightly more extended towards the center of the sofa.
In front of her, on the table, is an open pack of Marlboro Red cigarettes, a neon pink Bic lighter, red glass ashtray with several cigarette butts already in it, and a huge box of Walmart-brand red wine.
"Compare to Pinot Grige!" is printed on it proudly.
Something tells you that's the last thing they should have put on that box.

Aleena is staring ahead towards the TV, but it's not even on. You see the reflection of both of you on the screen instead. You can't see a hint of emotion from Aleena at all.

You were planning on bitching out the neglectful mother for just abandoning you when you really could have used help, but the tension in the air is so thick, any anger you had is gone.
Instead, all you feel is anxiety. Like you should apologize just for bothering her. Or thank her for being so generous to let you into her home.

You struggle to find the words you want to say first. The silence is maddening. All you hear is the ticking of the grandfather clock in the other room.

TICK.
TOCK.
TICK.
TOCK.
TICK.
TOCK.

You had to break the ice. If you didn't, you were going to have a heart attack. "U-umm", you meekly stammer out.
"DON'T.", Aleena sharply says through gritted teeth, immediately cutting you off. "...talk to me right now", she finishes, slightly less agitated.
Her sudden interruption catches you completely off guard. You sink even deeper into your seat, hoping to hide from her ire.
"O-okay, sorry", you quickly stutter out, before returning to dead silence. Aleena takes a sip of wine from her glass, swirling it about after removing it from her lips.

TICK.
TOCK.
TICK.
TOCK.

"...thanks", you timidly utter. Aleena sighs in annoyance.
"I'm only helping you because my daughter begged me to", she explains. "You should be thanking her. If it were up to me, I'd have planted a bullet between your eyes", she goes on to say with a chilling lack of emotion.
"Y-yeah", you cravenly reply after gulping. "Y-you must really love your daughter to put up with a total stranger on her behalf"
"Sonia means the WORLD to me", Aleena states. "YOU aren't going to screw that up", she coldly adds, before returning to her drink.

Back to silence once more.
The entire time you've been talking with her, Aleena hasn't looked your way even once. This isn't going to work, you need her help, and she's refusing to acknowledge your existence.
You struggle to think of anything to try and get her to open up to you, until you just ask about the first thing you see.

"Uhh, is that wine any good?", you thoughtlessly query.
WOW. That's not insulting at all, bringing up her daytime drinking. Fucking smooth. That's describing your brain, not your "charismatic" approach. Idiot. She's gonna kill you.
"I wouldn't know", Aleena surprisingly replies. "I don't even taste it anymore. Why don't you find out for yourself?", she then asks.

...Did--
...
Did she just offer you a drink? You're a minor.
"S-seriously?", you ask, puzzled by her bizarre generosity.
Aleena motions her head towards the kitchen. "Cups are in the top-left cupboard. Help yourself", she instructs, before nursing her wine once more.

You've never had an alcoholic drink before. Curiosity, and desperation to keep this conversation going at any cost, spur you into taking her up on her offer.
You begin to get up out of your ch--
...Oh. Right. Shit. You're still weak in the knees.
Judging from Aleena's lack of reaction to your struggling, it's clear she wasn't going to help you up or get the glass for you.
To hell with her, you can do this on your own. You made it down STAIRS, Anon. You can go to the kitchen.

You return to a standing position with a significant amount of effort, before clumsily clambering your way out of the living room into the hallway.
Leaned against the right-hand wall, you sidle down the way towards the swinging door. On your way, you pass by another door that you couldn't spot earlier on your left.
A slight, cold draft leaks from the bottom of the newly discovered door. It must lead to the basement.
Well, no sense focusing on that, you're near your destination. With a slight tinge of expectation, you enter the kitchen for the first time.

Upon entering, you're greeted by a rather mundane kitchen/dining area. Oh, boy, new surroundings! Time to soak it all in.
Taking a central position in the room is a large, wooden circular table. From the way it's segmented in half, it probably comes apart to add some table leaves for guests.
Lining the left-most wall is a long, gray marble counter. Or maybe it's actually wood with a marble facade. A number of drawers sit beneath the countertop, no doubt housing various kitchenware.
The sink sits prominently in the middle, with a large amount of dirty dishes still sitting within. You spot the bowl you ate Mac & Cheese out of last night. What was Aleena even doing in here if she wasn't cleaning up?
In the upper-left corner of the kitchen sat a large, black stove. Stains of various kinds pepper the poor appliance.
Across from you on the back wall is the fridge. From how voracious Sonic is, you wonder how much food is left inside.
Nearby the refridgerator sits a door, probably leading to the back porch.
The right wall was mostly taken up by a surprisingly large bay window. The view of the yard outside is slightly veiled by thin, white curtains.
The bottom right corner of the room housed one more door, leading to an unknown spot in the house. Possibly a downstairs bathroom. But that's not what you're here for, so you ignore it.
Instead, you turn your attention left once more to the cupboards hanging above the counterspace.

Aleena said the cups were in the top-left cupboard. You stagger your way towards the designated cabinet, reaching up to open it.
What awaited you was an absolute mishmash of drinking glasses haphazardly strewn about with no care whatsoever.
Coffee mugs, mason jars, old containers for large-sized tubs of ranch dip, you even spot some sippy cups for babies in this pile. Why do they still have those?
Shaking off your bemusement, you reach for the closest chalice: a plastic tumbler, colored a shade of dull turquoise.
Having completed your quest, you close the cabinet door and journey back to the living room without a second thought.

As you lurch into the room, you decide to take your seat on the opposite end of the couch Aleena's sitting on. It may be dangerous, but at least she won't have to get up to accomodate you.
It seems she's already polished off more than half her drink.
Winded, you reach your cup out, hoping she'll at least fill it for you.
Finally taking notice of you, Aleena glances your way before putting down her glass and taking yours. She pours enough to cover the bottom of the glass.
Well, that makes sense, you are a minor after all. A sip is probably all you can handle. Plus, it's her wine, she's probably not willing to share that much with a stranger.
Aleena hands you back your drink before grabbing hers once more.

Excited at your milestone, you raise your glass in celebration.
"Cheers! To my first drink!", you proudly say.
"I've heard worse excuses to drink", Aleena responds in a deadpan fashion, lazily raising her glass in kind.
The two of you then knock back your drinks in unison.

As soon as the liquid passes your lips and lands on your tongue, it begins brutalizing every single one of your taste buds.
An unfathomably bitter, nearly caustic taste assaults your senses. Every single braincell is telling you to spit this disgusting poison out.
However, your self-preservation instinct chimes in, reminding you that Aleena is right next to you. If you spit wine all over her furniture, she's going to kill you.
Against your better judgement, you force yourself to swallow this awful concoction. The burning sensation travels all the way down your throat, causing you to wretch, gag, and cough pitifully.
You glance at the box on the table to make sure that it's wine and not anti-freeze.

"Pansy", Aleena scoffs before taking yet another sip of the horrid ambrosia. You simply gawk at her ability to down this toxic sludge without even flinching.
You catch your breath once more before setting your cup down, having lost any appetite you had.
The good news in all of this: you probably won't wind up an alcoholic.
The bad news: the silence returns yet again. You're back to scrambling around for a topic, hoping to finally cut through this tension.

You look around at your surroundings once more.
You spot several family photos placed along the walls and shelves. Judging from them, the Hedgehogs seem like a pleasant, well-adjusted family.
Several photos are from various Christmas get-togethers, unless they wear those ugly sweaters year-round.
Gathered around the Hedgehog family are several other Mobians.

Wait. Mobius. You don't know shit about Mobius.
And Aleena's a Mobian, too. Maybe having her tell you stories about her homeworld would be a good way to break the ice and learn more about them in the process.

"H-hey, um, y-you guys came from the planet Mobius, right?", you inquire sheepishly.
Upon hearing the name of her planet, Aleena stops swirling her glass about.
"B-because I'd never even heard of the place before yesterday, and was...kinda wondering, and it's fine if you don't want to talk about it", you hesitantly continue stammering out.
"B-but, maaaaybe you could...tell me...a bit more...about...", you say, trailing off as Aleena's steely gaze slowly turns towards you.

Oh.
Anon. You fucking moron.
They're REFUGEES. They had to ABANDON their homeworld, you absolute fucking BUFFOON.
The LAST thing she'd want to talk about is her doubtlessly painful memories regarding her former home.

"Um, n-nevermind, stupid idea, sorry", you quickly stutter out, shifting your eyes directly downwards out of shame.
Aleena's gaze returns forward, away from you.
The unbearable silence returns once more. You have no clue what to do now. You didn't just step in shit, you dove head first into it.

As you accept your fate that you're probably never going to get her to open up to you, Aleena startlingly breaks the silence herself.

"I was her Queen, once."

Stunned at both the revelation and by her willingness to speak about such an obviously sensitive matter, you shoot her a look of befuddlement, thoughtlessly blurting out "Wha?"
"I was once known as Queen Aleena Hedgehog, Lord High Regent of the Planet Mobius", she expounds. Her gaze has shifted to the glass she holds in her hand.

THIS woman was a queen? I mean, you could tell she had a dignified tone of voice, but her actions really don't strike you as how royalty should act.
"R-really?", you apprehensively ask. It seems Aleena could pick up on your skepticism in your voice, as she shoots you an annoyed look.
"S-sorry", you hastily apologize. "But, you kind of have to see why I'd be skeptical of that", you justify.

Aleena glares at you for a moment longer, then returns to looking at her glass, clearly deep in thought.
After a few seconds, she downs the remaining wine and sets her empty glass on the table in front of her before standing up.
"Wait here", the amethyst Mobian orders before marching off to head upstairs to the bedrooms.

Well, you weren't about to go anywhere like this anyway. You sit quietly for a few minutes.
Then the anxiety kicks in again.
What if she was going to get her gun?
Oh, fuck, you can't hope to run away like this. You're not even able to toddle around unaided.
As your internal meltdown commences, you hear footsteps once more, this time approaching from upstairs.
She's returning.
Oh no. Oh fuck oh no oh please God spare this young lamb from this absolutely insane person's wrath.

As she descends the stairs, you gaze towards your potential murderers approach, praying she'll have mercy on your pathetic soul.
What you're greeted with, however, is something you couldn't have predicted.

Aleena had changed her outfit from her basic sweatpants-tshirt combo to an elegant white gown. The style is somewhat alien, unlike anything you've ever seen.
There seem to be plates or segments to emphasize her breasts from the rest of her upper torso.
Her waist was adorned with a large golden belt, with some sort of purple gem embedded within it.
The dress had a segmented trail leading downward from her hips into an odd golden decoration, shaped almost like a crown or a three-headed diamond, appended near the hem of her dress, close to where her knees are.
Draped around her neck and shoulders was a long, flowing yellow cape, with a lucrative looking brooch clasping it together. You could spot a strange emblem emblazoned on the back of her cloak.
Finally, atop her head sat an unbelievably lavish crown or tiara, adorned with three large, diamond-shaped gold pieces, the center housing a gem completely unfamiliar to you.

You stare bug-eyed at the sight before you, mouth agape.
"Believe me now?", Aleena asks in a somewhat haughty voice. She then struts past you to return to her seat, and refills her glass of wine.
There was no doubt about it any more. At the very least, Aleena was nobility of some sort. You feebly nod your head, answering her question.

She smirks slightly before taking a drink from her newly filled chalice.

"So, would you tell me more about Mobius, then?", you ask, too curious to consider her feelings on the matter.
Aleena sighs deeply, before swirling about her glass once more.

"It all started after my children were born."
END CHAPTER 10
Chapter 11 - Recollection

"As Queen,", Aleena began, "I ruled over a peaceful kingdom. The land was rich and plentiful. The people kind, the cities affluent, the skies clear."
"It was a paradise unlike any other", she says wistfully. "Truly, we knew no troubles under my dominion."
"However", she continues, "There was one detractor to my kingdom. A malicious madman named Dr. Robotnik."
"Robotnik was a genius robotocist and scientist, I'll admit that much", Aleena goes on. "A truly brilliant mind, but one warped by dreams of tyranny and cruelty"
"Why'd he want to take over your kingdom?", you ask, curious.
"The reason still eludes me to this day", she responds. "Maybe he was just a faggot or something. I did outlaw gay marriage after all"

You're conflicted by that last sentence. On one hand, that's based as hell. On the other, that would have interfered with the Bardonic ship.
You're not gay, but Bardonic IS cute as fuck. Who is she to deny that?

"Anyway", Aleena continues, after taking another sip of wine. "Robotnik may have been a lunatic, but he did have a few advantages over our kingdom: Numbers and technology."
"He had built a massive army of robots to do his bidding unquestioningly", she elaborates. "On top of that, he had enlisted the aid of some of the most cutthroat mercenaries in the galaxy."
"Our soldiers, with their poor excuses for weaponry, stood no chance against such a terrible force", Aleena sighs remorsefully. "It was a massacre."
"My husband, the king at the time, led the charge to defend the castle against the final assault", she went on.
"Your husband?", you ask, hearing about him for the first time.

"Yes, he was a human from Earth, actually", Aleena shockingly reveals. "His name was--"
"WHOA WHOA WHOA, Wait a minute!", you shout, cutting her off. "How is that possible? Didn't this happen on Mobius? How'd an Earthling wind up there, married to royalty, no less?", you grill the queen.
"Ah, yes", Aleena replies, realizing she skipped over some details. "That all happened years before the fall of Mobius", she then starts to fill you in.
"My father, King Kevin Hedgehog IV, began an interplanetary exchange program during his rule", Aleena states. "He had told the council it was a means of broadening our horizons and experiencing new cultures."
"That's what he told the council?", you ask. "I feel like you're about to tell me he had an ulterior motive here", you surmise.

Aleena furrows her brow. "His real reason for doing so was to, and I quote, 'bring in some hot, underaged earthling trim to play around with'", she reveals through gritted teeth.
She then takes a deep, long drink from her wine. You look away awkwardly.

"Anyway", she says, after the glass parts from her lips, "I was sent as an envoy to Earth at one point to get a taste of the local cultures and habits of its residents."
"I still remember it as if it happened yesterday", she reminisces. "It was a cold winter night. It was nearing Christmas, a tradition I'd picked up from my time spent on Earth."
"Though, at the time, I wish I hadn't", the violet woman says. "Seeing the young couples and families clinging to each other so happily made me realize how lonely I really was"
"As I passed through the snow-covered streets, I bumped into a young man by accident", she goes on. After saying that, she gives you a quick once-over with her eyes.

"You know, you vaguely remind me of him", she then states plainly. The comparison catches you off-guard a bit, allowing Aleena to drink of her cup once more.
"Now, then", Aleena continues her story. "After bumping into each other, we both issued awkward apologies to each other left and right. It was so embarrassing, I'm blushing just thinking about it"
She was right, her cheeks are becoming a little rosy. Though the 400-proof alcohol might have something to do with it, too.
"He then offered to take me out to dinner as an apology", Aleena continues. She has a genuine smile of fondness on her face right now.
"It was magical", she says, blissfully. "He was a true gentlemen, despite not coming from royalty. For the first time in a long time, I was truly happy to be with someone"

"I knew right there and then that I loved him", she continues her trip down memory lane. "Despite leaving a disastrous first impression with my father, eventually, he relented, and allowed me to marry this human"
"Thus, the new king and queen of Mobius were coronated", she finishes this sidestory, before taking another drink.
"So, your husband, the king, led the charge against Robotnik, right?", you ask, reminding Aleena of where she left off before you interrupted.

"Mmm, yes", she then goes on. "He wasn't exactly a warrior by trade, but he had hoped to distract the evil Doctor long enough for us to make our escape"
"However", Aleena appends, "he went missing during the assault. I have no clue what happened to him or where he even is. No body was ever found, and Robotnik had no recollection of him at all"
Aleena's eyes show a glimpse of unimaginable pain when recalling this.
"I can only hope he died gloriously in combat, because the alternative...", Aleena trails off, possibly to suppress her feelings before continuing.
"The alternative, would be that he abandoned Mobius in its darkest hour", she continues after composing herself. "That he abandoned me."

You can't find the words to express your sorrow and pity. You simply sit quietly, hoping that getting this story off her chest will be some small consolation to her broken heart.
"I had every intention to join him in that battle," Aleena continues, after another hefty downing of wine. "However, our seer, the Oracle of Delphius, pulled me off to one side and warned me of a prophecy"
"The fates demanded I give up my children to separate families, to maximize their chances of survival", the purple queen goes on. "They were but newborns, but I loved them dearly. Part of me didn't want to let them go"
"Unfortunately, the cold-hearted truth was, that the fates were absolutely in the right", Aleena resumed, sighing. "With a heavy heart, I donned a red cloak to conceal my identity, and placed each child in baskets and left them upon the doorsteps of complete strangers, praying their goodwill would keep my children safe."
"That was the worst day of my life", the Hedgehog mother says, somberly. "I lost everything. My husband. My home. My Kingdom. My children. I had nothing left", she says, staring deep into her glass.

"Nonetheless", Aleena continued, "the fates were at least kind enough to offer me a ray of hope. The prophecy foretold that my children and I would reunite one day, forming the Council of Four"
You internally scoff at the lackluster name.
"So I stayed incognito for over a decade", she resumes. "Watching over my children from afar, ensuring their safety without ever once revealing who I was to them. It was tough, not being there for their formative years"
"Eventually, they would join a band of resistance called the Freedom Fighters", continues the queen. "Their abilities and willpower proved to be extremely helpful in damaging Robotnik's empire"
"Their adventures continued for what felt like years, and eventually, they proved themselves capable enough for me to finally rejoin them", tells Aleena.

"At last,", she goes on. "we began our assault on Robotnik's main base, built on the remains of the capitol city. My former home."
"We had pushed our way to the center of the stronghold, and finally confronted that fat despot", recalls the plum-colored matron.
"Unfortunately,", she utters, her tone getting darker. "We had underestimated just how petty Robotnik would be in his last moments"

"Foreseeing his reign of terror coming to an end,", Aleena resumes, after taking one more sip of wine. "Robotnik ordered his drones to destroy, pollute, and corrupt every single square inch of Mobius still under his control"
"After issuing that edict, Robotnik fled the planet before we could make him face justice", she continues. You worry that Aleena's gripping her wine glass too hard as she says that.
"The devastation was far too much for our forces to fix", she laments. "We simply didn't have the manpower left."
"And so", she goes on, "I ordered every survivor of this miserable war to board the few spaceships we had left. We had to abandon Mobius."
Aleena's expression contorts with regret and pain. "This time,", she speaks, "there was no ray of hope left to us. We left her to die."

The lilac-shaded monarch takes another long drink of her wine. She's already down to the last quarter of her glass.
"However", she resumes, "at least I was able to leave together with my children. A small consolation, maybe, but it wasn't unappreciated."
"We took our ships to the one planet that would have us. An ally that we've held dear for many decades at this point", Aleena went on.
"Earth.", you finally speak, finishing her thought. "Precisely", she responds.

"Initially, the Earthling leaders were kind to our plight, and offered us housing and refugee status", Aleena says.
"Regrettably, though", spoke the Hedgehog mother, "my title as Queen of Mobius meant very little here on Earth. My wealth was worthless"
"I even tried selling my royal clothes for some money to jumpstart our new lives," she continues, "but they said the only people who'd wear it were 12-year-old girls for Halloween"
"Damn", you utter in disbelief and pity. Aleena sighs before imbibing yet another sip of wine.
"So, I had to get a desk job, working in some god-awful cubicle, all to start from scratch so I could support my family", she states. "I assume the other Mobians did similarly."

"I did it all for my kids, though", Aleena continues. "It would all be worth it when my kids grow up big and strong"
"And that brings us to the present day", she declares. "And how my children have turned out so far."
Her tone of voice has become a bit more...manic? Sarcastic? You could tell this wasn't going to be good.

"Sonic developed an eating disorder from his adoptive parents overfeeding him garbage", Aleena states plainly. "And on top of that, he fell in love with an aristocrat named Bartleby Montclair of Dresdin"
"Yeah, everybody knows that", you reply. Aleena shoots a quick look of disgust at you.
"As much as I want to be happy Sonic found his love", she goes on, "the two of them can't have children. Sonic's a genetic dead-end"

Aleena starts drinking at a faster pace, and her expression becomes angrier. "MANIC, that grassy-headed turd", she spits, "began simping for that absolute HARLOT, Mindy LaTour."
"Any chance of babies coming out of THAT is slim to none", Aleena complains, "since she's either going to abort anything that grows in there, or make Manic raise a child that isn't his, since she fucks anything with a pulse"
You lean deeper into the arm of the sofa, trying to shrink away from Aleena's fury.

"And SONIA...", she yells, before trailing off. Aleena's face becomes regretful. "Sonia...is so innocent and sweet. I can't bear the thought of ruining that by telling her how children are made."
Aleena takes one last drink of wine, emptying her chalice down her gullet. Once the glass is empty, she sighs deeply and sets it down on the table in front of her.
She then stares straight ahead. You think she's looking at her reflection in the TV screen, still turned off.

"...So," she says after a long pause. "Here I sit. Queen of a dead world on a soon-to-be-empty throne."
"I failed to save my homeworld", Aleena continues, emotionlessly. "Mobius fell under my watch and I had to abandon her in the end."
"And my children are all essentially dead-ends", she goes on. You feel that's a bit too harsh, but you keep quiet for now. "They'll most likely leave me with no legacy"
Aleena buries her face in her palms.

"...I'm an abject failure", she says, muffled by her hands.
Hearing her say that makes your heart sink. Aleena's face rises from her palms, with tears in her eyes.
"I failed as a ruler...", she proclaims. "and as a mother", she finishes, choking on those last words before breaking into silent sobs.

Every part of you wants to give this poor woman a hug. However, the memory of her holding you at gunpoint just yesterday pops into your head, causing you to hesitate.
You just look down at the table, filled with regret. You feel like shit, dredging up these painful memories of hers for your morbid curiosity.

After a few moments, Aleena sharply gasps, trying to compose herself once more. Her eyes are bloodshot from tears, and are darting around, searching for something.
They land on her empty wine glass, which she reaches for.
Knowing what she's going to do next, you instinctively reach for your plastic tumbler.
When Aleena finishes filling her glass of wine once more, you wave your cup in front of her, grabbing her attention.

"You shouldn't have this drink alone", you say, as she looks at you like a deer in the headlights.
Her expression softens just a little bit, before she sets down her full glass and takes your empty one.
After pouring you a healthy portion of the sickening knockoff Merlot, she hands it back to you.
You then raise your glass once more.

"To Mobius", you toast.
Aleena smiles slightly, and raises hers in kind.
"May she rest in peace", she finishes.

Your chinese-made plastic cup plinks unsatisfyingly against her wine chalice.
The two of you drink deeply in unison once again.

Huh.

That's weird.

That drink wasn't nearly as bitter as the last one.
END CHAPTER 11
Chapter 12 - Reunion

Following her somber soliloquy, Aleena started warming up to you at last. She became much more willing to answer your questions about the various photos around the living room.
Every single one had some sort of insane story behind it, even the most mundane looking ones wound up being engrossing tales of heroism and chaos.
The less chaotic stories were more heartfelt, like how Sonia won a participation trophy during some soccer match, and treated it like it was the greatest accomplishment of her life.

Having the time filled with these anecdotes was nice. A lot nicer than just sitting awkwardly in silence. You even felt the house getting warmer just from talking with her.

After she finishes up her last story, giggling about how she mowed down a group of SwatBots to save Manic once, she sighs deeply, seeming somewhat deflated.
"Something the matter?", you question, concerned about the sudden downturn of her emotions.
"I just...wanted to apologize", the purple hedgehog replies. "For...well, everything leading up to now. For almost killing you, for ignoring you when you needed help, letting you see me in such a pathetic state, all of it"
"Oh, no worries", you hastily utter. Well, it WAS actually troublesome, but you weren't about to sour the mood by complaining. "I'm just glad we're on friendly terms now"

Suddenly, the grandfather clock rings out once more, snapping the two of you out of your conversation. Aleena gets up to get a better look at it.
"Oh, hell, is it that late already?", the matron inquires. "It's already noon!", she exclaims, shocking you.
It seems you two were gabbing for almost 4 hours straight. Time flies when you're having fun, as the saying goes.

"You want something to eat, Anon?", Aleena asks you. "Uhm, y-yeah, sure!", you eagerly reply back, caught off-guard by her newfound hospitality.
You forgot you hadn't eaten at all today. This tendency to miss meals is starting to worry you, though considering the circumstances, it's understandable.
Aleena approaches you and offers you her arm to help you up, which you gladly take. After straining a bit, you rise to your feet with her help.
Your legs are significantly less weak than they were a few hours ago. Instead of feeling like they're asleep, it's more akin to having returned to land after being out at sea for 3 weeks.
You're still wobbly, but you're making progress. You still rely on Aleena's help to remain stable, though.

The sleeve of her gown is weirdly soft and pleasant to touch.
...Stop being weird and just walk with her.

Aleena leads you to the kitchen, where you take a seat at the circular table in the center of the room. Aleena saunters over to the counter and reaches up to one of the cabinets nearby.
She pulls out two paper plates, a loaf of Great Value white bread and a jar of That's Smart! peanut butter, before heading to the fridge to retrieve a jar of grape jelly, no doubt some other generic version.
With the items together, the grape-colored queen fishes a butter knife from a nearby drawer, and proceeds to slather a meager serving of the two toppings on twin slices of bread.
She slaps the two coated pieces together to form a sandwich, and repeats the whole process once more to create a doppelganger of the snack.

She then places each sandwich on a plate, and brings them over to the table, serving one to you and one for herself.
A PB&J sandwich.
Not the most sophisticated meal you've ever had, but a welcome sight, nonetheless. You take the chow in front of you and bite into it.
Aleena really went light on the Peanut Butter and Jelly. Most of that bite was bread.

"So? How is it, Anon?", queries Aleena.
...It's a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. A child would have to struggle to fuck it up.
"It's very good, thank you", you respectfully lie through your teeth. She really should have added more peanut butter. However, you're not about to insult her...um.
...would this count as 'cooking'? Or maybe 'confectionery skills'?

"Why, thank you, Anon!", Aleena responds to your compliment as if it's the first one she's ever heard. "You really are a gentleman"
...That's all it took to get a response like that out of her? This poor woman really is underappreciated. You take another bite of your sandwich out of courtesy.
"So, Anon", Aleena says as you chew your food, "I told you all about myself and my kids. What can you tell me about yourself?", she asks.

You stop chewing as soon as the question leaves her lips. The one topic you dread discussing has come up. The one thing you hate more than anything.
YOURSELF.
You nervously swallow the half-chewed chunk of white bread to try and clear your mouth. It doesn't really do you any good, however.
It's not like you can just come out and say "Yeah I spend all my free time masturbating in my room alone", it's not exactly the best icebreaker.
You learned that the hard way back in middle school.

You struggle to think of anything worthwhile to say. After hearing Aleena's tales of glory and adventure, it made you realize exactly how little you've bothered living life.
"...I...really don't have a lot to tell", you eventually mutter. Aleena takes a healthy bite of her sandwich with a look of mild concern on her face.
"I just...go to school and go back home most of the time", you admit. "I'm nowhere near as interesting as you guys, honestly", you say.
"Sonia told me you move around a lot", Aleena notes, her mouth still full. "Surely, you went to some interesting places", she adds before continuing her chewing.
"Yeah, I guess", you reply half-heartedly. "I didn't really bother experiencing them, though"

"Why not?", the purple matriarch inquires.
"What's the point of getting attached to anything if you know you're just going to leave it behind before the year's over?", you answer her question with one of your own.
"...Do you feel that way about my family?", Aleena ripostes. You had no counter for that.

"...All of this just...happened all at once by random chance", you hesitantly justify. You get the sense you're walking on some serious eggshells here, so you're picking your words carefully.
"I sat next to your daughter because her seat was the only one available on the bus", you start rattling off.
"I was placed between her and Bartleby in class because that was the only seat available to me", you continue.
"Sonia was the first person I saw after I contracted BMPS, and she offered me the only means of care available to me at the moment", you go on.
"If none of that happened, we wouldn't be having this conversation", you finish listing off your grievances. "I'd be in my room, away from everyone else, like usual"

"...Is that what you really want?", Aleena casually asks after a moment of silence.
A simple question with a surprisingly difficult answer.
It's been so long since you've made friends with anyone that you've forgotten what it felt like to have them. It's a weirdly refreshing feeling.
But the ever-looming threat of your parents inevitably leaving keeps hanging overhead, spoiling any good times you might have with them.

"...I don't know what I want anymore", you grunt, hanging your head and slumping your shoulders.
You've effectively ruined the good mood you struggled so hard to build this entire mornning.
As you wallow in self-pity, Aleena lets out a sigh.

"You're not going to be a kid forever, Anon", the violet mother states. "Before you know it, you'll graduate from school and be out there, living your own life, not being dragged around by your parents"
"You shouldn't be so terrified of making memories while you can,", she goes on, "because the day will come when those memories are all that you'll have left."
You don't have anything to say in response. You stare at your half-eaten sandwich quietly, lost in thought from her words.

"Well, maybe that topic is a bit touchy for you", Aleena says, finally breaking the silence. You look up at her, still somewhat moping.
"You're the same age as my kids, right?", she probes. "When's your birthday?"
Well, it's something else to talk about. You plainly tell her your date of birth, but something odd occurs.

The moment your birthdate leaves your mouth, Aleena's eyes widen in shock, and the sandwich she was holding has fallen out of her hands.

"...Something wrong?", you ask, worried about the surprised expression spreading across her face.
"...That's the day that Mobius fell", she responds, astounded. The coincidence stuns you in kind. "The day my husband...", she trails off.
"Oh, shit. Um...sorry?", you hastily apologize for coming into existence on that dreadful day.

Aleena's eyes have drifted downwards towards the table, and she's clearly lost in thought. The silence has come back.
It might just be you, but you swear you can hear that damned clock in the other room.
Finally, Aleena, twiddling her thumbs, reluctantly breaks the quiet once more.

"Anon...this might be weird to ask, but...do you believe in...reincarnation?"

She's right.
That IS weird.
The strange question only causes you to mutter a confused "huh?".

Fortunately, a distraction from this conversation comes in the form of a sudden knock at the front door.
"Oh, that's probably Charles", Aleena surmises as she rises from the table. "I'll go let him in."
The hedgehog matron then exits the kitchen to let Chuck in the house. You take the opportunity to munch down on the remainder of your sandwich.

Aleena quickly returns with the mustachioed hedgehog in tow.
"'Sup, Anon", Chuck greets you, waving his hand. "I see you're up and about pretty early"
"...It's past Noon", you tell the faded blue hedgehog in rebuttal.
"Charles usually recovers from his hangovers around 1PM", Aleena chimes in.

Yeah, he was hitting the Bud Light pretty hard last night. I'm pretty sure I saw half a dozen empty cans in the living room this morning, and that's just what was visible.
"Speaking of", the plum-colored queen appends, "I think that wine this morning's catching up to me"
You notice Aleena's stance is significantly more woozy than normal. You hope you didn't cause her to drink that hard, making her go through her traumatic past.
"Charles, could I ask you to keep an eye on Anon while I go nap?", the plum lady asks Chuck.
"Sure!", he responds. "We'll have a blast, right Anon?", he then asks you.
"Uhh", you thoughtlessly blurt out, trying to raise an objection.

"Great. Thanks, Charles, I really appreciate it", Aleena remarks, cutting you off. As she begins exiting the room, she passes by your seat once more.
As she does so, you feel one of her fingers trace its way up the back of your neck, causing you to shiver in surprise.
You flash a flustered, utterly confused look to her. "Have fun, Anon", she teases before exiting the kitchen.
Leaving you alone with 'Uncle' Chuck.

You felt a strange wave of dread wash over you.
END CHAPTER 12
Chapter 13 - A Fun Outing With Uncle Chuck
With a few attempts, the great metal beast roars to life, its engine humming and gently rattling the vehicle around you.
You nervously chuckle at the development, before glancing down to your right to spot the shifter.
It's one of those kinds where you press the button down before pulling it to the setting you want. Nice and simple.
You sheepishly reach for it to shift down to 'R', no doubt standing for 'Reverse'.
"Keep your foot on the brakes before you shift", Chuck pipes up as you're doing this. Wait, shit, which pedal was brake?
"The left one!", Chuck quickly tells you, as if he could read your mind. You hastily press your foot down on the corresponding pedal before
beginning your shifting anew.
You press the large button on the shifter down with your thumb and pull it back into gear. You feel the SUV jolt a little bit upon shifting.
"Good, now slowly let off the brakes", the Hedgehog Uncle dictates. You comply, nervously letting off the left-most pedal. You feel the vehicle
slowly lurching backwards towards the street.
"Check your mirrors", reminds the mustached man. Your gaze quickly darts between every mirror, ensuring nothing's in your path or
oncoming.
You continue this process for a few seconds as the SUV slowly creeps down the driveway. Just before reaching the street, Chuck pipes up once
more with directives.
"Once your back tires hit the street proper, you need to cut the wheel all the way to the right", he says. Following his words to the letter, you
begin to do just that.
As if you've been driving for years, you expertly manage to escape the driveway without so much as a scratch. You put on the brakes after
fully turning, awaiting Chuck's next orders.
"Alright, now straighten 'er out, put 'er in drive, and let's roll", says Charles. You nod confidently, and perform his instructions. The two of you
take off down the street, leaving behind the Hedgehog abode.
"So, where are we heading?", you ask. You probably should have figured this out before going along with this.
"I'll let you know when we get there, relax", assures Chuck in response. That doesn't assuage your concerns at all.
"Take this next right here coming up", he then orders. You anxiously obey and perform his task.
"Take those turns a bit slower, Anon", Chuck lectures. "S-sorry", you apologize, your eyes darting all over, trying to absorb everything going on
at once.
Checking your mirrors, watching the roads, watching the speedometer, watching for pedestrians, it's all starting to get to you.
As your meltdown is about to commence, Chuck places his hand on your right shoulder, causing you to glance over at him.
"You're doing fine, Anon", he reassures you, beaming a gentle smile your way. "The most important thing to do when driving is to RELAX", he
states, emphasizing that last word.
Hearing that completely dissolved any tension you were feeling at that point. You take a deep breath to calm your nerves once more, and
your eyes confidently snap to the road, and you continue your lesson once more.
After several blocks of travelling, following Chuck's instructions for each turn, you find yourself heading down a major thoroughfare for the
city.
Your nerves begin acting up again, as you flinch every time someone passes you on the highway. Chuck takes notice of your apprehension.
"What's the matter, Anon?", the critter with facial hair asks, concerned.
"I-I'm just worried someone's gonna clip me, or I'm drifting too far out of my lane", you explain.
"Ah. I got a handy tip for that", Chuck replies. "You see those lines in the road?", he then asks, pointing ahead.
"Which ones? The dotted lines, or the solid ones?", you query in response, hoping for clarification.
"Either, really", he says back. "If you line those lines up with the bottom left corner of your windshield there", he explains while moving his
finger to the described corner of the windshield, "You'll never be out of your lane"
Huh. It's that easy? You proceed to do as he says, and sure enough, your driving has stabilized significantly. You can even go up to the speed
limit comfortably and not have to worry.
You're honestly dumbstruck. You weren't expecting this trip to go as smoothly as it has, but it really seems like Chuck actually just wanted to
help you learn something. You feel silly, having worried all this time.
"Oh, shit, Anon, our stop's coming up, get ready to turn off", Chuck warns you. You snap out of your feelings of wholesomeness and steel
yourself for the next instructions.
"Okay, turn into this parking lot on the right", Chuck commands as he points towards a particular sign on your right-hand side.
A sign that says "Phil's Liquor Mart".
...Oh.
You pull in, somewhat deflated at discovering the true purpose of this trip. Chuck just wanted someone to give him a lift to buy more beer.
As the vehicle pulls up to the front of the store, Chuck has you stop right by the front walkway.
"Keep her running, I'll only be a minute", says the mustachioed Hedgehog, as he unbuckles his safety belt and climbs out of the SUV.
He then puts on one of those surgical masks. You shoot him a puzzled look.
"COVID rules are still in place here. You know how it is", he elucidates
You shift into Park and sigh dejectedly as Chuck enters the store. You feel dirty and used.
...Maybe this isn't the right way to look at things. Let's count the positives here.
You're behind the wheel of a large automobile, and you drove it down here with hardly any help outside of advice from Uncle Chuck.
You didn't cause any damage, you actually learned a few things, hell, this is probably the most positive experience you've had today. Maybe
this whole week.
You need to stop being so tense and negative. Smile, today's going great.
...What the hell is that yelling?
You glance over towards the sounds coming from the store, and see Chuck burst through the front door, a case of Bud Light in his hands.
Indistinguishable, yet unmistakably not English shouting comes from behind him.
"GO, GO-GO-GO-GO GO!!!", frantically screams Chuck as he hastily clambers back into the vehicle, tossing the 24-pack between the two of
you.
"Whu-huh?", you blurt out, as you stare at him, utterly confused at the turn of events.
"Drive, you fucking idiot, DRIVE!!!", screams the once wise-sounding uncle, as he slams the door shut behind him. As soon as he does, a
distinct noise rings out from the walkway.
The sound of a shotgun cocking.
Chuck wheels his head around to the source of the sound, before immediately ducking down, revealing a rather distressing sight.
An indistinguishable, yet unmistakably brown person has shouldered a Mossberg 590A1 and is pointing it directly at your face while scowling.
Oh FUCK
You immediately tuck your head as far between your legs as your spine will allow you to go as the disgruntled clerk unloads a hail of buckshot
through both front windows of the SUV.
"SHIT!!!", you cry out in terror, as you claw at the shifter manically, still hunched over as you pull it into drive and slam your foot down on the
accelerator.
The vehicle screeches into motion as you tear ass out of the parking lot, the clerk still firing on you.
As you careen down the road, catching your breath after returning to an upright position, your eyes dart over to Chuck, who has begun
enjoying his prize already.
"DID YOU SERIOUSLY FUCKING STEAL THAT CASE OF BEER?!", you furiously shout at the fuzzy bastard.
"Of course I fucking stole it!", he shoots back. "Do I look like I can afford to BUY this shit?!", he asks.
"I knew it. I fucking KNEW it!", you start shouting to yourself. "Every fucking fiber of my body was telling me 'don't go along with this, he's up to
something!', but did I listen? NOOOOO"
"Anon, RELAX", Chuck says, trying to soothe you. "Are you hurt?", he asks, almost as if he knows the answer.
"Uh-b-th-NO?", you stammer out, flummoxed by his strangely considerate question
"Then what's the problem?", he then asks, completely blowing off any sense of responsibility he had in this ordeal.
"YOU ALMOST GOT ME KILLED, YOU--", you begin to scream, before noticing the bullet holes lining Aleena's SUV.
"Ohhh my God, Aleena's gonna fucking kill us when she finds out about this", you moan as you fall into the pits of despair.
"You ain't tellin' Aleena SHIT, you got that?", Chuck orders between sipping his beer.
"Chuck, look around you!", you hysterically protest. "The glass on the dashboard, the windows that are fucking disintegrated, the fucking
BULLET HOLES, she's gonna notice that shit!"
"You made a wrong turn and pulled into a bad neighborhood", the mustached Mobian starts explaining. "Before you knew it, some black
motherfuckers pulled up beside us and performed a drive-by, got it?"
"...There's no fucking way she'll buy that", you state plainly.
"I said, 'GOT IT?'", Chuck repeats, as he lifts his tanktop to reveal a glock he's been carrying in his waistline this whole time.
"...un-fucking-believable", you grumble, shaking your head as your attention returns to the road.
You remain silent for the rest of the return trip. Chuck reminds you of the turns you need to make, and you wordlessly comply, not even
looking in his direction.
You pull into the driveway of the Hedgehog home, place the SUV in park, shut off the engine, and remove the keys.
"Hey, Anon", Chuck says as you unbuckle your seatbelt. Your eyes shift towards his direction, showing him holding out an unopened can of
Bud Light.
"A reward for my getaway driver", he proudly says, as he pops the tab. You glare at him for a few moments as your thoughts race through
your head.
You want to smack the can out of his hand. You want to take a drink and spit it in his face. You want to dump it out in front of him and throw
the empty can back at him.
But more than anything, that beer sounds really good right now. You mechanically take the can and bring it to your lips before downing the
whole thing as fast as possible.
It tastes like warm piss. He didn't even steal chilled beer. Fucking hell.
You climb out of the vehicle and robotically walk towards the front door. Chuck swaggers up alongside you, still clutching his ill-gotten gains.
The two of you enter the house, and you immediately notice Aleena hopping up from the living room couch. She's changed from her royal
Mobian clothes to her previous get up of a plain white Tee and Navy Blue sweats.
"So, how was the driving lesson?", she asks expectantly. You remain silent. All you do is gently place her key in her hand and stagger towards
the recliner.
"It went pretty good, I'd say!", Chuck chimes in, acting as if nothing was wrong. "Anon here's a natural! I bet he'll be driving for NASCAR one
day!"
"Oh, really?", Aleena responds, pleasantly surprised. "I guess I was worried for nothing th--", she continued, before stopping as soon as she
looked out the window and beheld the obvious damage.
"What the FUCK happened to my SUV, Charles", Aleena sternly grilled her brother.
"Oooohh, yeah, right, that", Chuck replied, pretending to remember something. "Uhhhmm...what was it, Anon?", he innocently asks you,
placing his free hand on his hip, where he's hiding his gun.
You glare in his direction quietly for a few moments, internally seething at his pathetic act, before returning your eyes straight forward,
averting them away from the two elder Mobians.
"...I took a wrong turn and wound up in a bad neighborhood", you tell, emotionlessly. "Before I knew it, some black motherfuckers came up
and started shooting at us"
"Yeah! That's what happened, yep!", Chuck pipes up, as if that would verify this moronic tale.
"...Where did you get the beer, Charles.", Aleena asks, obviously not buying this bullshit.
"Found it", he bluntly responds. Aleena buries her face in her palm out of frustration.
Suddenly, a loud knocking comes from the front door, catching everyone off-guard.
"POLICE! OPEN UP!", shouts a voice from behind the door.
Oh no.
END CHAPTER 13
Chapter 14 - Turnabout Is Fair Play

You feel Aleena staring daggers into you from behind the recliner. You don't have the courage to face her directly. Instead, your head sinks deeply into your shoulders out of shame.
"Well, you know the drill", Chuck quickly states as he scuttles further into the house with his case of stolen beer.
"No, I don't!", Aleena shouts back at her mischievous brother. "What the hell am I supposed to tell them?!"
"I don't fucking know, make something up!", retorts the criminal uncle. "This is strike fourteen for me! I can't go back to the fucking can! They'll rape my fine ass for sure!", he yells before escaping to the kitchen, opening yet another can and slurping it down.
Aleena groans in frustration before marching over to you to face you directly. Your posture stiffens as she stares you down.

"Anon, you tell me exactly what the fuck happened NOW", she sternly orders, gritting her teeth.
"Chuck made me drive down to Phil's Liquor Mart and he stole a case of beer", you tearfully tell Aleena. "He didn't tell me his plan until he'd already done it. When the clerk opened fire on us, I sped away because I was afraid he was gonna kill me"
Aleena stares at your pathetic face for a moment before taking a deep breath through her nose.
Another loud knock comes from the front door.
"WE'RE GOING TO BREAK DOWN THIS DOOR IF YOU DON'T OPEN UP IN TEN SECONDS!", shouts the voice from behind the door. "10! 9!", the disembodied voice begins counting as Aleena returns to fling open the front door.

As the door opens, you spot two police officers decked out in black body armor.
"What the hell do you want?", the purple queen asks, annoyed.
"What took you so long to respond, ma'am?" asks one of the officers in response.
"I was taking a shit", Aleena crudely states. "This better be important enough for me to skip wiping"
An odd thing to lie about, but maybe that's a sign she's not going to just hand you over to them? You nervously get out of your seat to watch from afar.

"Ma'am, is that your SUV parked over there?", asks the other officer, pointing to the bullethole-ridden vehicle you drove.
"It is, what of it?", replies the plum matron, still in an aggravated tone.
"I'm afraid you're gonna have to come downtown with us for questioning", orders the first officer.
Your stomach is twisting itself in knots over the thought of Aleena getting arrested in yours and Chuck's stead.
"I'm not going anywhere", retorts the Hedgehog mother as she crosses her arms. "Ask whatever moronic questions you have now so I can get on with my day"

"Where were you at approximately 1:20 PM today, miss...?", asks the other officer, trailing off, hoping for Aleena's name.
"Hedgehog. And I was napping", Aleena states plainly. "Anon over here can corroborate my story", she says, pointing towards you.
You're taken aback by the sudden inclusion. "Huh? Me?", you timdly ask, pointing at yourself.
"No, I call the turd in my pocket 'Anon'", Aleena says sarcastically. "Is there anyone else here with that name?"
Ignoring the crude remark, you hesitantly approach the front door. You get a better look at the policemen grilling Aleena.

Two male humans in full cop gear stand outside on the stoop. One is Black and the other Caucasian. They're each equipped with a tazer, pepper spray, and a standard-issue 9mm glock.
The ensemble makes you realize how deeply you stepped in shit. You begin to sweat profusely.
"Uh-y-yeah, th-that's what sh-she was d-d-doing alright, ah, yep", you stammer out. Way to go, THAT performance was sure to convince them.
"Are we to assume you're this woman's son?", asks the black cop.
"You can, if you're retarded", quips Aleena. "Does he LOOK like my son?", she then asks.
Too frightened to find her response hilarious, you glance at her and frantically swipe your fingers across your throat, gesturing for her to cut it out.

"Why aren't you in school, son?", grills the white cop.
"Uh, I'm suffering from BMPS, sir", you state after clearing your throat. "I needed Miss Hedgehog here to watch over me since my parents couldn't as they were too busy."
"Bartleby Montclair Proximity Syndrome?", the black cop pipes up. "How the fuck are you still walking?"
"Whatever,", interrupts the white policeman. "Where were you at 1:20 PM this afternoon?", he then asks.

Oh, no. You were at the scene of the robbery. You were the getaway driver, even if it was unwittingly, you're still an accessory to the crime. Your eyes dart about as you struggle to think of an alibi.
Aleena rolls her eyes, sighing.
"He was with me", the Mobian queen declares. "We had just finished having hot, steamy sex, and he was in the bathroom, freshening up"
The unusually lewd false alibi startles you. "A-ALEENA?!", you frantically cry out in confusion. Aleena grabs you by your collar to bring you down to eye level with her.
"Would you rather go to prison?", she whispers to you.

"...yes, I am her lover", you monotonously announce, too frightened by the prospect of assrape to consider telling the truth.
The black cop leans in close and begins sniffing. The action confuses and slightly disturbs you.
"...Is that alcohol on your breath, boy?", he asks after finishing his smell test.
Oh crap it is, fucking Chuck's beer, why did you have to look so tasty after that harrowing escape?
What else could explain the stench of alcohol on a minor's breath?

"...it's mouthwash", you bluntly reply after some thought.
"That's right", Aleena chimes in. "He ate my pussy, I haven't cleaned up down there in some time, are we done here?", she rattles off in a huff while tapping her foot.
Jesus fucking Christ, Aleena. You don't need to go THAT hard. Then again, you don't have any other better stories. Maybe it's best to let her cover for you.
"Look, we're not leaving unless someone here's in handcuffs", declares the black cop.
As he proclaims that, you hear loud footsteps stomping from behind you. As you peek back into the house, Chuck has staggered his way towards the front door.

"Yyyyoooouuuu fffpfpfucking pigsh ain't got SSSHHHIT for evidensh", slurs Uncle Chuck, barging his way through you and Aleena as he points aggressively at the two law enforcement officers.
His stance is incredibly loose and unstable. Just how drunk is he right now?
"Go ahead! TEAR THISH HOUSH INSHIDE OUT!", challenges Drunkle Chuck, as he dramatically gesticulates towards the home. "You won't find aaaaaaany fuckin' Bud Light!"
"...we didn't say which brand of beer was stolen", says the white officer. Chuck blinks asymetrically towards them. You can see the gears in his head grinding.
"Oh thosh black motherfuckin' NIGGERSH", the mustachioed Mobian garbles, as he shakes his fist. "Firsht they shhhoot up my shishtersh ESHYUBEE and NOW they shteal shome beer"
"What the fffuck happened to thish neighborhood?", Chuck tearfully asks, as he places his hand on the black cop's shoulder, either for comfort or stability.
"It ushed to be you could leave yer door unlocked at night but now you cashabable a GOOD pfuggin zagn", he continues slurring until it becomes completely incomprehensible both due to drunkenness and crying.

Well, so much for avoiding prison time. Your anus had a good run.
"Where the hell was he at 1:20 PM today", grunts the white cop to Aleena as Chuck continues breaking down.
Aleena is at a complete loss. To be fair, I think convincing anybody that a clearly drunk Chuck wasn't guilty of stealing a case of beer would be impossible for all but the most accomplished shysters.

"I,", Chuck pipes up as his drunken rant ends. "Wuzh in the shed. Makin' a birdhoushe. GETTIN' WASHTED WHILE DOIN' IT", he loudly announces. "Izzat a CRIME?!"
"Considering you're on parole, yes it is", replies the black cop.
"You're not my parole offisher!", Chuck retorts, wheeling around to the policeman with the afro.
"Yes, I am. I was just in the neighborhood when we got the call", the black cop plainly states in response.
Chuck squints at him cock-eyed, before his eyes widen in surprise.
"Oh, shit, it'sh WILKIIIIINSH!", he cheers, raising his arms. "What UP, my nigga?! Give me shum SHKIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIN", Chuck loudly calls out with his right arm raised high above his head.
As he swats at the air, hoping to high-five the officer, Chuck loses his balance and falls flat on face, ass in the air. He then begins loudly snoring a few seconds after the impact.

The two cops glare at Aleena and you.
You're doomed.

As you begin to consider just crying and telling the police everything, hoping they'll show mercy, an unexpected voice rings out to your left.
"Momma?", asks a familiar pink hedgehog with concern in her voice.
You and Aleena snap to the voice down by the corner and spot the Hedgehog siblings approaching the scene.
"Kids?!", Aleena shouts, confused. "What the hell are you doing home so early?"
"Some kid shot himself at school and they let us out for 'mental health' reasons", Manic explains, high-fiving Sonic as the twin brothers pump their fists in excitement. "Early out, bitches!", Sonic cheers.
"Oh my god!", you cry out in shock, covering your mouth at the distressing news.

"What's going on? Did Uncle Chuck hit you again, Momma?", asks Sonia.
The two cops glare at Aleena and you once more. Aleena groans while rubbing her head in frustration.
This REALLY isn't the time for that, Sonia.
"Alright, get up, Chuck" says Officer Wilkins(h?) as the two cops bend down to drag Chuck to his feet. The jostling wakes the elder male hedgehog up from his drunken stupor to grunt inquisitively at the two.
"We're going downtown", says the Caucasian copper.
"You meanies!", shouts Sonic. "Let my creepy uncle go!"

Suddenly, an idea started to form in your head. It was a long shot, and probably wasn't worth attempting, but damn it, you're out of options.
"Officer, wait!", you cry out, grabbing their attention. The two policemen look your way, annoyed at the obvious attempt to stall.
"W-what was the description of the robber?", you ask with hesitation.
"Well, it was hard to understand the clerk through his goatfucker accent", the unnamed white cop begins explaining, "but he said it was a fat, blue Mobian hedgehog with red running shoes"
"No other identifying characteristics?", you inquire, rubbing your chin.
"No. Where are you going with this?", Wilkins asks.
"I-I'm just saying, that there's more than one person that fits that description", you state.

Chuck staggers to his feet and wrestles his way out of the cops' grips.
"THAT'SH RIGHT!", he shouts. It seems Chuck's caught on to your plan. He turns around dramatically and points towards Sonic.
"HEEEEEEE'SH THE ONE THAT DID IT!", the mustached ugly bastard loudly reveals. Sonic is taken aback.
"W-what? What's going on?! I'm so frightened!", Sonic cries out, confused and scared.
You're a little disgusted with yourself, but you hold on dearly to your plan, praying that it works.
"He shtole the beer, brought it to me, and I duh-RANK it without question 'cuz I don't know no better!", Chuck pieces together, wagging his finger with every word.

The two cops approach Sonic menacingly. "Alright, son, you're going downtown with us", says the white cop.
"No! Help!", cries out the younger blue hedgehog. "Mommy! Bartleby! Save me!"

As soon as Sonic's cries for help leave his lips, you hear a loud impact on the concrete to your right. Everyone, including yourself, turns to face the source of the noise.
You spot a seven-mile long limousine made of solid gold parked across the street from the Hedgehog abode.
...How the fuck did you not notice that until just now?
Standing beside this behemoth vehicle is BabaBAbABBbabarbArba
BahaAArrababbalba
BARBALAGGGGHFUCKINGGGGGGFFFFFFFFFFRRRRRRRRRRRGHGHGHGHGHGH

It was a completely ordinary fellow student who just happens to be the richest, sexiest man alive

You clench your eyes shut, breathing deeply, desperately convincing yourself of the previous statement, because you weren't about to suffer BMPS once more after all the shit you've gone through in the last 24 hours.

"I can see why they call police officers 'brave'", declares [THE COMPLETELY ORDINARY FELLOW STUDENT], "seeing as you're placing your hands on my personal bitch."
"[REDACTED]! My lover!", proclaims Sonic. The two officers are scared shitless. Trembling, they release Sonic as he runs over to [SCHOOLYARD CHUM]'s side.
"[ORDINARY STUDENT]?! Oh shit! I didn't sign up for this!", the white cop shrieks in terror.
"U-uuuhh, w-we'll j-just l-l-let him off w-with a w-w-w-warning this t-time", stutters out Officer Wilkins, shrinking back towards the nearby cop car.
[ACADEMIC ASSOCIATE] narrows his eyes threateningly at them.
"Um, Okay, w-we'll arrest that store clerk! Haha, nobody's gonna care if some Muslim prick goes to jail!", nervously shouts the black policeman in response.
The two cops quickly hop in their car and speed away.

The threat has passed. Your plan actually worked. Your shoulders slack in relief as Chuck drunkenly staggers towards you and places his hand on your left shoulder, rocking you back and forth in celebration.
Your feelings of relief are short-lived however, as [FELLOW SCHOLAR]'s massive shadow approaches and looms over you and Chuck menacingly.
"Now, which one of you tried framing my perfect blueberry baby for a crime he didn't commit?", he sternly asks as he stares you down, his mouth downturned into a wide scowl, showing his anger.
"Because they're about to get the wettest, nastiest beef stew I've ever given anyone in my life", he then announces. You had a distinct feeling he wasn't about to produce a piping-hot bowl of Dinty Moore from somewhere.

You and Chuck exchange looks. Chuck seems surprisingly confident in the face of utter doom. He stumbles forward, shakily holding his finger up as if to announce something.
Fortunately, years of playing video games and not binge-drinking have polished your reflexes far beyond what Chuck could hope to match.
"It was Chuck", you quickly mutter, pointing at the elder hedgehog before he can say anything. Chuck's eyes widen, as if having been found out.
"Anon, you SON OF A B--Mmph!", Chuck begins to shout as he draws his hidden pistol, before his speech is cut off by [CLASSIFIED]'s massive mitt of a hand clutching his face. Chuck drops his handgun as he's yanked towards his demise.

In a flash, [PLAIN PUPIL] drops trow and places Chuck's face firmly between his thick, sinewy asscheeks. As soon as his victim is clenched by his glutes, [SCHOLASTIC COLLEAGUE] unleashes a cacophony of flatulence the likes of which you weren't even aware was possible.
The ground beneath you begins to quake. Your ears begin to ring. Car alarms two blocks over are going off. And the smell.
THE FUCKING SMELL. You fear your fingernails are going to peel upwards from the horrific stench coming from [EDUCATIONAL COMRADE]'s colon. It's like a sewer being set on fire.
With every fart that rings out, Chuck's body helplessly flails about like a flag caught in a hurricane. Sonic watches on with a lust-filled look on his face. His nose is bleeding.
After concluding Chuck's punishment, [PEDAGOGICAL COMPANION] tosses his body aside onto the lawn. Chuck lays there, having lost consciousness from the dreaded Beef Stew.
You feel kind of bad, selling out Chuck like that after you went so far to bail him out of prison time, but you write it off as karmic retribution finally catching up to him.

"So, am I supposed to know you?", asks [THE GUY WHO'S NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR ALMOST KILLING YOU WITH A GLANCE YESTERDAY].
"I-I-I'm the n-n-nuh-new k-ki-kid in ssssschool, s-sssir", you stammer out hesitantly to your hero.
"Didn't see you in class today", he replies, not believing you.
"U-um...I was out sick b-because I almost d-d-died f-from l-looking at y-you", you timidly explain.
"Yeah, gonna need a better hint", Bartleby responds callously.
"You...you can't tell me you don't remember that", you say in disbelief. "Homeroom? Yesterday? You left early because you were humiliated by that", you attempt to clarify.

"No, I left early yesterday because I had to take a fucking dump", the golden god ripostes. "The school's pathetic plumbing can't handle the volume of my stinky poopy, so I went and bought another Great Lake to use as my personal toilet"
"Wha...really?", you ask, dumbfounded.
"While I was out, I attended the grand opening of my 4 million acre golf course, which was formerly Venezuela, and rented out Ronald McDonald as my personal bitch's birthday clown", Bartleby proclaims.
"Oh, Bartleby!", squeals Sonic lovingly. "You treat me so well! You didn't have to do something so extravagant!"
"Oh? Then I'll cancel his appearance", replies the Mobian Mogul.
"No wait, Bartleby, I didn't mean--", the azure Hedgehog attempts to salvage the situation.
"Too late, I've already decided", Bartleby harshly responds, before returning his attention to you. "Now, do you expect me to remember every single shit I've taken?", he asks you.

Hearing Bartleby list off all the crazy shit he did yesterday made you realize how insignificant your near death experience really was by comparison.
"So, who told you that obvious lie of me being humiliated by your near death?", Bartleby inquires.
"Sonic", you thoughtlessly blurt out as you point to the other blue hedgehog. Bartleby's ire-filled gaze lands on his lover.
"But Bartleby, I--", Sonic begins to explain, before being cut off by Bartleby clutching Sonic by the face and giving him the same punishment he gave Uncle Chuck.
Like, the EXACT same punishment. You have no clue how he could have any more farts of that caliber left in his body after the first go-around, but he's really pulling out all the stops on this.
Maybe he's able to invert his intestines at will or something.
Upon executing Sonic's punishment, Bartleby tosses Sonic's unconscious body aside, right beside his nearly identical uncle.

"Now get out of my way, I have to fucking piss", Bartleby orders as he pushes past you and enters the Hedgehog abode.
...You just realized you've been able to see him as 'Bartleby' for the past few minutes instead of the blinding god-king from yesterday. You don't think BMPS will be an issue moving forward.

Manic and Aleena follow him inside. Sonia hops up in front of you.
"So, how was your day, Anon?", she chipperly asks you. As if you could possibly answer that without getting sent to the psych ward.
"...it was okay", you bluntly mutter, too exhausted from the absolute insanity of today to properly explain everything.
Sonia seems to ignore your response and pushes a single finger into your solar plexus again. This time, however, you manage to put up some resistance and stay on your feet.
"W-What are you doing?", you ask the bubblegum-colored girl, flustered.
"Hey! You're all better!", she proclaims.

...What?
You look down and realize that she's right.
Your legs haven't wobbled once for a few minutes. No numbness, no tingling, your limbs are restored to their former glory.

Plenty of rest and lots of fluids be damned, the real cure was crippling anxiety and alcohol.
END CHAPTER 14
Chapter 15 - Cause For Celebration

You enter the Hedgehog house along with Sonia, still enamored with your recovered legs, watching their every bend with wide eyes.
Sonia giggles a bit at your exaggerated movements, which snaps you out of your fixation, causing you to chuckle in response, embarassed.
You reflexively almost ask about how Sonia's day went, when you remembered the reason why everyone came home early.
Apparently, a fellow schoolmate shot himself while you've been gone. Certainly not news you were expecting to hear today.
However, despite this distressing event, none of the other kids seem phased by it in the slightest. Perhaps it was best to get more info.

"So, how are you guys holding up?", you ask, gingerly tiptoeing into an obviously sensitive topic. Sonia just raises an eyebrow and cocks her head slightly, confused by what you're asking.
"I mean, one of our fellow students just died today, that's kinda fucked up", you tack on, abandoning the gentle approach when it became clear Sonia was unaware of what you were talking about.
Despite the morbid topic, Sonia simply smirks, rolls her eyes, and says, "Anon, relax, it was just Carlos."
"Who?", you ask back. You'd never heard of this Carlos character before.
"Boy, isn't THAT the million-dollar question", Manic sarcastically quips, having overheard the conversation. "He was some Mexican faggot that nobody liked", the emerald brother then explained.

"Jesus, dude", you exclaim, somewhat shocked at Manic's completely callous and harsh description. "That's how you talk about someone who was so bullied that he killed himself?"
"No, Anon, you don't understand", his pink sister chimes in, catching your attention. "Carlos was actually planning on shooting up the school, not just committing suicide"
"...Oh", you reply, completely unsure how to feel at this point. "Is everyone okay?", you ask, concerned for your schoolmates.
"They're all fine", says Sonic, as he limps through the front door, having recovered from Bartleby's punishment braps earlier. "That faggot Carlos tripped on his shoelaces and blew his own brains out on accident"
You hear Aleena stifle a snicker at the deceased student's misfortune from the living room. Jesus, even in death, this Carlos kid can't catch a break.

"So, he was gonna Columbine the school? You're sure?", you inquire, dumbfounded by the development.
"Yep", Sonia responds. "The police found his manifesto in his backpack. It said he was sick of nobody finding him funny or likeable"
"Why'd everyone think that way?", you query. "Because he was unfunny and unlikeable", Sonic piped up. "Seriously, Anon, don't defend the prick, you didn't know him"
"Oh my god, remember his 'class clown' phase?", Manic asks. Sonic retches in his throat a little at the memory. "Bro, don't make us remember that shit"
"Why? Was it cringy or something?", you quiz, too curious to ignore this trainwreck of a human.
"He kept making jokes about George Floyd and how he was a 'knee-gro', like that was the funniest joke in the whole fucking world", recounted the blue hedgehog.

Well, it's KINDA funny, but it's not really something that would elicit anything more than a scoff or nasal exhalation from you. It's shocking, but it's humor that a child acting out for attention would use.
"Oh, and don't forget how much he simped over Flora of all fucking people", Manic says. "Flora?", you ask, unsure of who he's referring to.
"The blue bitch that sits next to me in homeroom. You saw her", the grassy-haired hedgehog explains. You do vaguely recall someone fitting that description from yesterday.
"I'm pretty sure Carlos tried raping her one time", Sonia shockingly recalls. You can only mutter "Fuck..." in disbelief. As awful as it makes you sound, maybe it was a good thing this kid died.
"If it was anyone else, I would just laugh about it", Sonic replies, "but that faggot Carlos didn't deserve anything he wanted"

"So, basically, a lifetime of being a little shit ostracized this kid and made him a social pariah", you summarize. "I don't know what that means, but it made him a complete bitch", Manic responds.
"Mindy was actually by the principal's office when they had to call his parents to tell him the news", Sonia reports. "You wanna know what they said when they heard?", she then asks you.
You nod your head, too enthralled to ignore the juicy gossip any longer.
Sonia, trying to suppress her laughter tells you, "they said, 'Can we at least get the guns back? They cost us like two hundred bucks'!", to which everyone in the nearby vicinity explodes in laughter.
Even you're caught up in it. You know you're going to hell for it, but, fuck, that's just hilariously cruel.
Even Chuck, who finally recovered from his punishment earlier, lowered his gun trained on you to join in on the fun.

"Yes, that's just the perfect ending to a miserable wretch's life if I've ever heard one", a familiar, dignified voice rings out from upstairs.
Bartleby has left the upstairs bathroom and is now sashaying down the stairs towards the ground floor. Everyone's eyes are locked on this marvelous being during his elegant descent.
You, in particular, take in Bartleby's wardrobe. He's currently wearing his iconic brown suit with a bright white silken cravat, tucked neatly into the breast of his jacket.
There's a noticeably large wet spot on the crotch of his pants. You weren't about to point it out, though.
He's also wearing a set of Antonio Vietri Moon Star shoes, glinting with his every stride as the overhead light hits them at just the right angles.
Truly, you're blessed to witness this divine creature.

"It's a death that's well-deserved for someone so self-centered", the blonde bombshell continues.
"Self-centered?", you ask, hoping for clarification. It's totally cool if he doesn't clarify, though, it's your fault for being ignorant.
"Yes, you see, everything he did had to get everyone's attention", Bartleby responds, causing to squeal internally. "It wasn't enough that he was good at something, he had to be better than someone else"
"He started his dreaded 'class clown' phase because he had to be funnier than Manic", the duodecillionaire continues. "He had to have Flora to prove his love was better than the love between me and my bitch"
"He even started drawing to supplant the illustrious Tamers Twelve Thousand Three Hundred and Forty Five", Bartleby goes on to say. You weren't aware of who the other artist was, but for some reason you chose not to ask out of fear it may alienate you from everyone else.
"It was never about producing beauty for everyone else's sake,", says the richest man alive, "but purely for his own selfish desire to be loved unconditionally"

"What an asshole", you reply, having made your decision about Carlos.

"Can we please stop talking about him?", asks Sonia, somewhat distressed. "I just want to forget he existed and move on with my life"
"Yes, this isn't a day for him to ruin any longer,", Bartleby declares, "But rather, a time of joyous celebration! Come, my friends! To Olive Garden for their unlimited supply of breadsticks!"
Surprised by his generous offer, everyone cheers as Bartleby leads Sonic towards the front door. As the rest of you begin to follow, however, the mood suddenly turns.

"Hold the fuck up", Bartleby commands as his head snaps towards the group following him and his bitch. "Where the fuck are all you shitstains going?"
"W...with you?", Manic speaks up, confused as to this heel-turn of generosity. "You invited all of us as 'friends'?"
"I meant to say 'friend'", Bartleby explains. "And by 'friend', I meant 'personal bitch'. What, you think I can afford to feed all of you?"
...Is that a trick question? Well, whatever, your relationship with Bartleby as 'friend' was a pipe-dream anyway. Everyone mutters and grumbles as they walk away, leaving Bartleby and Sonic to exit the house unabated.

"Oh, hey, Anon, I almost forgot", Sonia pipes up as she takes off her heavy backpack. "I picked up all your homework for you from the last two days!"
Sonia fishes out several text books and papers with various problems on them and hands them to you.
Oh. Yippee. You forgot you'd started school already. Well, at least you won't be behind, hopefully.
"Thanks", you grumble flatly.
"If you want, I can help you finish it", the pink hedgehog offers kindly. Manic sniggers at the proposal.
"Yeah, that's rich, a GIRL helping anyone with homework", the viridian brother mocks. "You might as well just draw a big fucking 'F' on your sheet. Save the teacher some time"
"Manic, stop being sexist towards your sister", Aleena scolds from the living room. "Last I checked, your grades were worse than hers"
"That's only because homework is for fucking nerds and faggots", Manic quips back. "I won't need math when I'm a fucking pro gamer, smoking bitches at Fortnite and getting paid for it"

Manic dashes upstairs to the kid's bedroom after his declaration, no doubt to practice his craft. You'd consider joining him, but the stack of homework weighing your arms down makes you reconsider.
"...If you want to help, that'd be cool, Sonia", you say to your cotton-candy colored friend. Sonia flashes her trademark smile in return. You feel like you're blushing a little.
The two of you enter the living room and see Aleena flipping through channels on the TV, smoking her Marlboros. It seems she's been busy, considering the empty ashtray she had this morning has been filled with over a dozen butts.
You take a seat in the recliner and set your massive stack of books down beside it. Sonia takes her seat on the sofa closest to you and digs out a few Lisa Frank brand pencils and hands one to you.
After taking it, with dread setting in, you grab the first book from the top of your pile. Math. Ugh. You hate math.
"Oh my God, I had to get that from Mr. Stevens today", Sonia groans as you eye your textbook. "He's the fucking WORST"

Oh, great, as if you didn't already have apprehensions about this subject, she had to open her adorable mouth. "Is he really that bad?", you question.
"Uuuuugh, he just hands out these impossible problems one after the next", the hedgehog sister complains. "He IS a bit of an asshole", Aleena chimes in, still flipping through various daytime trash TV shows.
Of course. You get stuck with the most hated teacher in school for one of your weakest subjects. Par for the fucking course.
Well, there's no use putting it off. You crack open the arithmetic tome hesitantly and flip to the assigned page of problems.

1.) 4 + 7 =

...what.

Okay, fine, first problem of the semester, of course it's gonna be easy. You scrawl '11' down on your corresponding worksheet and move on to the next problem.

2.) 2 x 3 =
Is this a fucking joke.
You skim through every page of your textbook to see if there's anything even remotely challenging. Variables, exponents, square roots, fucking parentheses, anything advanced.
This is fucking remedial math. Division isn't even introduced until the very last chapter.
You were in Algebra last year. You hated it, but you dealt with all those a's and b's and x's and shit.

...Math just became a free subject this semester. Fuck yeah.
You breeze through the problems that a 5 year old could solve with the greatest of ease. After finishing in just a few minutes, you close your textbook and get ready to move on to the next one, when you glance up.
Sonia's mouth has gone slack and her eyes are as big as dinner plates.
"Anon...Are you some kind of fucking genius?", Sonia apprehensively quizzes. You simply shrug before moving on to your next assignments.
English just dealt with adverbs.
History was about which presidents are on the dollar bills.
Science was about what temperatures water melts and freezes.
Literature was just about Jack and Jill going up a hill and getting water. It didn't even cover the latter half of the tale yet. Must be tomorrow's assignment.

...Were you enrolled in a retard school by accident? The bus you rode the other day didn't SEEM short.
You complete all of your homework in less than thirty minutes. Even the stuff from yesterday. As you close up your last textbook and place it beside you, you notice Sonia is still as enthralled by your performance as she was earlier.
"...Did you want help with YOUR homework, Sonia?", you offer to her.

She simply nods, unblinking, mouth still agape.
END CHAPTER 15
Chapter 16 - A Painful Lesson

As Sonia fishes out her textbooks and worksheets from her backpack, you slide out of your seat and kneel next to the coffee table in order to get a better vantage point.
The pink hedgehog then places her math book down on the table, having decided the first course she'd like to tackle.

"Math, huh?", you query. "Anything in particular you have trouble with?"
"Ugh, just EVERYTHING", groans the bologna-colored critter. "NUMBERS. EUGH."
"That's fair, it's pretty far from my favorite course", you respond, chuckling sensibly. "Well, let's just jump right in, shall we?"
Sonia makes a disappointed grunt as she opens the dreaded tome to the assigned page.
"Don't worry too much, it's really not that hard once you get going", you reassure your colleague.
Aleena simply watches your tutelage from the corner of her eye.

After a few moments of Sonia staring blankly at her textbook, you start to grow concerned.
Is she really having trouble with the first problem? It's simple addition. There's no way she'd be struggling right now...right?
"Ssssomething up?", you hesitantly ponder aloud. You're trying not to insult your friend's intelligence, but it's clear that the cogs in her head aren't in motion right now.
Sonia merely adjusts her empty stare in your direction, clearly unsure of what to do next.
"Okay", you speak, "Let's just...start with the first problem. Uhm, four plus seven equals...?", you ask, trailing off, expecting an answer.
Instead, you merely get the same blank stare as before.

"Sonia, you, uh...you do know how to COUNT, yes?", you apprehensively quiz the poor ditz. There really is no way to approach this gingerly.
"Umm...like that vampire guy, right?", she asks in return.
Oh, lord, please send help.
No, wait, hang on, maybe she means The Count from Sesame Street, there's still some hope here.

Seriously, how the FUCK have our public schools fallen so far that a girl in fucking HIGH SCHOOL DOESN'T KNOW HOW TO COUNT?
As you struggle to think of a way to tackle this unbelievable hurdle before you, you hear loud, wet smacking of lips, like a hog chewing on some sort of bones.
You look up to see Sonia has produced one of those massive sharing-sized bags of Wild Berry Skittles and is currently munching down on a fistful of them.
"Where the hell did you get those skittles?", you ask, even more confused now than before.
Sonia simply shrugs with a thoughtless "iunno".

Though the inexplicable appearance of the snack sack was perplexing, it did offer you an idea on how to amend your current situation.
"How 'bout we play a little game to help you study, Sonia?", you pose to your academically challenged friend.
"Is this like the games Manic tried making me play after he binge-watched the Saw movies?", Sonia queried in response. "'cuz I don't wanna play those ever again"
...Just what the fuck is wrong with this family?

"No, it's nothing like that, I promise", you tell Sonia, "just give me a handful of skittles and we can start."
She eyes you pensively for a moment before finally shoveling a fistful of candy out and handing it to you. In a single motion, you flip your hand filled with skittles over onto an empty spot on the table and spread them out evenly.
You then begin to make some room in the center of the pile until it's almost a perfect circle. Sonia cocks her head and raises one of her eyebrows as she watches this spectacle.
"I think your biggest problem is you can't visualize the math problems", you begin to explain to your colleague. "This little exercise will help with that"
"I'll lay out the skittles like each of the math problems, and all you have to do is count the ones in this area here", you continue to elucidate, pointing at the empty circle you made on the table.
"If you get it right, you can eat the skittles we used for the math problem after you write down the answer", you say, ending your explanation. Sonia has become completely enthralled.
"You think you can handle that?", you ask the rosy hedgehog. Sonia earnestly nods. Aleena glances over at you before returning to flipping through TV channels.

"Okay, let's begin", you say as you begin moving several skittles towards the center area. "Four...plus seven..."
You slide two distinct groups of the candies in the designated spot, each group totaling their respective integers. "Alright, what does four plus seven equal, Sonia?", you quiz expectantly.
Sonia squints at the bundle of skittles for some time, tapping her finger on her chin, deeply lost in thought. You really don't know how to make this easier for her without just telling her the answers.
Finally, after a minute or so, Sonia's eyes snap open, and she gasps slightly. "Anon, I just figured something out!", she exclaims.
"Y...Yeah?", you ask, wondering what her discovery was.

"Wild Berry Skittles are all the same colors as my family and friends!", she announces. Her declaration befuddles you, considering you were expecting something related to math.
"Look! Pink, blue, green, like me, Sonic and Manic!", she prattles, pointing at each color she lists. "There's even purple ones like you, Momma!", she excitedly shouts as she turns to her mother.
"Yeah, great, whatever", Aleena flatly replies, clearly not interested in whatever we're doing currently, instead devoting her attention to the countless TV channels she keeps flipping through.
"OMG, There's even red ones like Knuckles!", the pink dolt continues. She then gasps in shock once more. "And Tropical Skittles have cyan, yellow and orange skittles! Just like Uncle Chuck, Bartleby, and Mindy!"

Sonia continues to ramble on about the various kinds of skittles and how they're all colored similarly to people she knows. This clearly isn't going to stop without some input from you.
"Sonia!", you shout, grabbing her attention. "Can we PLEASE focus on the task at hand?", you ask, somewhat annoyed. Sonia pouts in response, but returns her attention to your makeshift diorama.
You exasperatedly sigh and reiterate the problem, hoping she can actually focus this time.
By some miracle, Sonia slowly starts counting with her fingers. "1...2...3...", she mumbles.

This would be so much more frustrating if this girl weren't so adorable.

"Umm...eleven?", she finally answers, having finally finished her tally.
"YES!", you excitedly praise. "Write that down, quick!", you order, causing the pink dummy to scramble around for her pencil before hastily scribbling down '11' on her worksheet.
"Alright, great job, Sonia!", you continue commending. "Go ahead, you've earned them", you then say, presenting the sweet candies to your associate.
Sonia quickly snatches up her prize and gobbles them down with an unexpected fervor. Her open-mouthed way of chewing, combined with her empty-headed stare makes you slightly uncomfortable. Like you were looking at a cow chewing cud.
Ignoring your discomfort, after she swallows, you continue the lesson, and the game along with it.

"Alright, next up, multiplication: two times three", you state.
"Multiplication? Don't you mean 'timesing'?", Sonia asks, puzzled.
Oh this girl is SO fucking dumb.
"Uh, that's the scientific term for 'timesing'", you explain, causing Sonia to go "OOOOOOHHHHHH" in response.
Yeah, it's a cheap hit of dopamine, but dammit, it's nice being the smartest guy in the room for once.

"How does Mm...muttlipulcation work again?", Sonia asks, clearly struggling to pronounce the proper term.
"MULL-TI-PLI-CAY-SHUN", you enunciate, "is basically taking the first number, and then making as many sets of THAT number as the second number", you attempt to explain.
Sonia is still clearly lost.
"Okay, for example, two times three", you plow right along, hoping the example will shed some light on the confusing concept.
You shuffle some more candy around to get the number you need to elucidate this problem effectively. Sliding three clearly defined sets of two into the arena, you continue your lesson.

"That's TWO", you proclaim as you place two of your fingers on the corresponding amount of skittles, "THREE times over", slowly hopping your fingers along the amount of columns you've created.
"Got it?", you ask. Sonia nods, utterly captivated by your tutorial.
"Alright, how many skittles do we have now?", you quiz. Sonia once again glances back and forth between her fingers and the candies several times before hesitantly replying "...six?".
You applaud her once again, causing her to blush with a meek smile spreading across her face. After scrawling down her answer, she grabs her prize and wolfs down the lot.

"Okay, a subtraction problem next", your lesson goes on. Once again, you move more skittles from the pile laid out into the empty lot.
"Five minus three", you state, as you slide five skittles into a row. This one's super easy.
"You got five here, now all you got to do is just take three away", you instruct.
As you slide three of the skittles away, Sonia begins loudly wailing, her face painfully contorted to show a horrible sadness. This display completely catches you off-guard.
"W-why is she crying?!", you frantically ask Aleena, whose attention has turned to her loudly whining daughter.
"ANON TOOK AWAY MY SKITTLES!!!", cries Sonia, wiping away the tears streaming down her face.
"ANON. GIVE HER BACK HER SKITTLES.", sternly orders Aleena.
"W-we were just playing a game, I didn't ACTUALLY take her skittles away!", you stammer out, still confused at how the mood suddenly shifted.

"I'm getting the gun", warns Aleena as she rises to her feet.
"No! NONONO, WAIT", you shout in a panic, waving your hands before quickly trying to get Sonia's attention again.
"S-Sonia, LISTEN to me", you hurriedly order the sobbing pink daughter, clutching her shoulders. "I'll give you your skittles back, okay?"
"You...y-you promise?", whimpers Sonia through sniffles and sobs. Aleena, still at the edge of the couch, watches with her signature cold stare.
"Yeah, I promise", you reply, nodding frantically. "I just want to keep playing our game, alright? W-we were having fun just a few seconds ago, right?", you ask, trying to defuse the situation.
Sonia feebly nods, her eyes bloodshot from the tears. She's obviously still upset, but she's at least trying to hear you out. You chuckle nervously, having made some progress.

Alright, time to think, FAST. She gets upset if you take away her skittles. But, subtraction is literally the act of taking shit away. How do you demonstrate subtraction to her without taking her stuff away?
"...Okay, here's an idea", you offer after some thought. "What if, every time we do a subtraction problem, YOU subtract the skittles instead of me? That way, I don't take them away from you, and you still learn stuff. It's a win-win!"
You can almost see the lightbulb come on in Sonia's head when she realizes your solution makes sense. Aleena, seeing the situation has been resolved, returns to her seat, albeit still glaring suspiciously at you.
"Okay", you sigh in relief, "five minus three. Sonia, please take three skittles away", you instruct, motioning towards the candies upon the table.
Eating the skittles one-by-one, Sonia follows your order. You have to stop her before she eats too many out of habit, which causes her some minor distress.
"How many do we have left?", you remind the Hedgehog acolyte.
"Um...two?", Sonia whimpers hesitantly.

You heavily sigh in relief. "Great job, Sonia, now write that down", you tell her. Sonia does as you say and munches the remaining candies immediately afterwards. Her demeanor has returned to her usual bubbly self.

The lesson goes on in this fashion for quite some time, making sure that for subtraction problems, Sonia takes control of the skittles. Eventually, every single problem is completed.
As you and Sonia are ready to begin her next lesson, however, the grandfather clock rings out from the waiting room, heralding the arrival of 4 PM.
Aleena immediately gets up out of her seat at the sound.

"Alright, 4PM, my obligation to help you has run out, time to go, Anon", Aleena quickly announces. Sonia whines in disappointment.
END CHAPTER 16
Chapter 17 - The Deal

You clumsily stagger to your feet, having sat seiza-style for somewhere around three hours without adjusting. Not the smartest move, considering you only just recovered your ambulatory abilities.
Fortunately, the tingling emanating from your legs does subside rather quickly, so no more limping about like a newborn calf for a day and a half for you.

Aleena marches towards the front door and grabs the fuzzy black coat off the nearby rack. The same one from which Chuck fished out her car keys earlier today.
As you're about to grab your textbooks, Sonia stands up and pulls out her cell phone.
"Hey, Anon, can I get your phone number before you go?", your rose-colored friend asks, wiggling her phone slightly.

Yet another first for today. You've never given a girl your number. You struggle to remember your own phone number, seeing as you hardly ever give it out, but after a quick search, you tell it to her, which she earnestly punches into her contacts list.
She then gives you a call in order to give you her number. A surprisingly clever trick you would never have thought up.

Wait.
WHAT WAS YOUR RINGTONE AGAIN

By some divine miracle, your phone was set on vibrate, sparing you from a horribly embarrassing moment in front of your friend. Explaining which Anime OP that song is from to a normie like Sonia would cause you to die from shame.
You quickly hang up Sonia's call and start to enter her contact info. "Hey, don't you screen me!", Sonia jokes, before breaking out into giggles. You smirk in response.

Wow. Including your parents, you now have THREE contacts on your phone. Look at you, Mr. Social Butterfly.
You slide your phone back into your pocket and kneel down to collect your books once more.
As you reach for them, Sonia assaults you with an unexpected hug, wrapping her arms around your neck and bringing you in for a deep embrace. She smells slightly of Strawberry shampoo and skittles.
Instinctively, your arms stretch outward as far as they can go to avoid touching any part of her body.

"Thanks for everything today, Anon!", Sonia chirps in appreciation. You barely register what she's saying, however, because in your brain, all you're thinking right now is
GIRL HUG GIRL HUG WHAT DO
You glance backwards towards Aleena, seeing if she's about ready to kill you if you so much as place one finger on her daughter. However, she simply motions her head as if to say 'go on, then'.
You hesitantly begin to fold your arms around Sonia's back, repeatedly looking back to watch Aleena's reaction. When it's clear that she's not going to do anything over a simple hug, you finally return Sonia's embrace, though much more anxiously.
"H-haha, Y-yeah, no problem, Sonia", you nervously chuckle, patting her gently on her back.
"Mm, yeah, that's nice", Aleena softly mutters. "Now squeeze her ass"
"What?", you query as you look back once more, befuddled by what you heard.
"I said, 'I'll drive you back home'", Aleena replies, obviously lying. She then twirls her car keys around her finger. You really weren't sure how to tackle that, so you simply accept it with a blank "Oh, Okay, thanks"

Sonia finally relaxes her grip and lets you get your books. "I'll see you tomorrow on the school bus, Anon!", the rose-colored maiden declares, beaming her signature smile at you.
You attempt to match her smile, but your self-consciousness regarding the way your grin looks holds you back somewhat. "Looking forward to it!", you cheerily reply as you head for the front door.
Aleena begins to lead you towards her SUV and Sonia eagerly waves you off. You'd wave back, but your arms are full, so you simply nod to her instead.
As you approach the vehicle, you notice several bullet holes running up and down its side. Some part of you feels ashamed that this damage happened while you were driving just a few hours ago.
"What're you waiting for, Anon?", Aleena questions, snapping you out of your guilt-ridden trance. "Hop in."

You awkwardly clamber into the automobile before sitting down with your books on your lap, slamming the door behind you. Some glass left in the shattered passenger-side window falls down onto the pavement.
After adjusting her seat and mirrors, Aleena turns over the steel beast's engine and begins backing out of the driveway. You glance back at the house and spot Manic waving you off from the bedroom window.
You wave earnestly back at your friends as Aleena pilots the SUV down the street, eventually causing the Hedgehog family home to disappear from your line of sight.
As insane as everything that's gone on in that house has been, you can't help but feel wistful after leaving the place. It's a strange feeling, honestly.

"So, where are you headed?", asked the matron/chauffeur, returning you once again to reality. You forgot to tell Aleena your destination, dumbass.
"Uhh, 25th and Maple, please", you politely request. Aleena responds with a simple "Hm" before returning her eyes to the road.
The cool Autumn wind seeps through the broken windows and brushes past your hair as the vehicle speeds along towards your address.
After driving for a few minutes, you come to a stop at an intersection in the middle of some unfamiliar suburban area.
"Alright, we're here, get out", announces Aleena. One look at the surroundings contradicts her declaration, however. You had no clue where you were, but it certainly wasn't home.

"Umm, Ms. Hedgehog?", you hesitantly ask, "I said I live on the corner of 25th and Maple, this isn't right", you then tell her.
"I know. You're walking the rest of the way", the purple queen tells you. "Whuh-WHAT?! WHY?!", you shout in response, confused.
"Take a look behind you, Anon", Aleena orders. You turn your head around and see nothing of note. Just another row of identical suburban homes.
"I don't see anything, Ms. Hedgehog", you say to your former chauffeur.
"Really? There should be a WINDOW there", Aleena responds, annoyed.

Oh.
"Did you ever stop to think about how you're going to pay me back for damaging my car?", quizzes the purple matriarch.
"It only got this way because Chuck got us in trouble!", you justify. "Make HIM pay for it, it's his fault!"
"If I confront Charles about this, the only thing I'm gonna get is a beatdown", Aleena ripostes. "Besides, he doesn't have a job, getting money from him's like getting blood from a stone"
"I'm not exactly rolling in money, either, ma'am", you retort. "How much would you even need to fix all this?"
"Last time Charles pulled some shit like this, it cost me about three thousand dollars", she proclaims.

Oh, fuck. That's a LOT of money. You only get about fifty bucks every two weeks for your allowance. You start doing the math in your head.
"Ms. Hedgehog, with all due respect, I don't think I'm gonna be able to pay you back within a year", you begin to explain.
"I get fifty dollars in allowance every two weeks. That's a hundred bucks a month", you continue. "Even if I paid you every single cent I get, that's only twelve hundred dollars"
"I could just send the bill to your parents", Aleena offers. "NO, ABSOLUTELY NOT", you frantically protest. "They do NOT need to know about this shit!"
"Then I guess you're getting a job", states the violet Mobian mother.

"Ms. Hedgehog, I'm underaged, I'm new in town, and I have zero connections", you respond bluntly. "NO place is going to hire me."
"Then how about working for me?", offers Aleena. "I have a house that has far too many chores for me to do by myself"
That's...an idea. It's better than nothing, at least.
"After I get the bill when the car is fixed, I'm going to write down the total in a little notebook and let you know exactly how much it is", Aleena starts explaining.
"Then, every Sunday, you're gonna come to my house and do whatever I tell you to do", she continues. "After completing a task, I'll assign a dollar amount to it and shave it off your debt"
"So I'm a debt slave, then", you put succinctly. "Welcome to the club", Aleena replies sardonically.

You let out a disappointed groan as you weigh your options. At least you would weigh them if you had more than one.
"I could just convince my kids never to speak with you again", suggests Aleena once more. You shoot her an indignant look.
"You wouldn't", you attempt to call her bluff.
"Wouldn't be hard. I'd just say you tried to rape me on the way to your home", she goes on. "After all, who are they gonna believe: their beloved mother, or the guy they met just yesterday?"
That BITCH! How the hell can she be so cruel?! You only just accepted the Hedgehogs as friends, and now she's threatening to rip them away?!

Defeated, you unbuckle your seat belt and pop open the car door.
"...I'll see you Sunday", you mutter, climbing out of her SUV with your books.
"Good call, Anon", the purple tyrant cheekily replies. You slam the open door shut and more glass falls from the window well.
"Have a nice walk!", Aleena cheers as she waves before peeling out down the street and around a nearby corner.

...Where the fuck were you even at? You look around and spot the nearest street signs at a corner. They read "W. 4th" and "Jefferson".
Well, that's no fucking help. You whip out your phone once more and open up the map application, punching in your address as your destination.
You notice that your phone is at about 6% charge. You haven't charged it once since yesterday morning. Great.

Unbeknownst to you, a shadow peers down at you from a nearby abode, watching your every move.

"It appears the Sonic Underground have recruited a new member in their ranks", states the shadowy figure to himself.
"What's that, your Roundness?", queries another, thinner shadow coming up behind him. "Who's that guy?"
"I'm not certain, but we're going to find out soon", responds the enigmatic leader. "Queen Aleena just dropped that guy off in front of our house"
"Wait, Queen Aleena actually gave him a ride?", replies the lesser being, surprised. "She just flips me the bird whenever I ask for a lift"
"Exactly", the shady onlooker states, "She obviously has hired this new guy to kill us or some shit"

As the two figures converse, the lights in the room they stand suddenly come on. Next to the light switch is a third, muscle-bound creature with a dog-like face.
"Dr. Robotnik, why are the lights off in here?", asks the massive meathead. "Were you listening to Linkin Park again and thinking about killing yourself, like Chester Bennington?"
"God damn it Dingo", Dr. Robotnik frustratedly cries, "I was trying to be menacing and imposing in here and now you ruined it!"
"But why? It's just us in here", responds Dingo, confused.

"Never mind", Robotnik grumbles. "Just take a look at that bitch out there"
"Oh, goody! A new friend has come to our neighborhood!", exclaims the canine chowderhead. "Should I go suck his balls?"
"Ding-face, why is sucking balls your go-to for meeting new people?", the now-visible thinner figure irritatedly queries.
This one also has a canine face, but more closely resembles a wolf, compared to Dingo, who's closer to a pitbull or something.
"I'm sorry, Sleet, I just got so excited", Dingo replies morosely. "Should I make him a pie or some shit instead?"

"ENOUGH, BITCHES!", shouts the pudgy Doctor. "Obviously as a new recruit of the Sonic Underground, this faggot will have access to all sorts of secrets and information on our eternal enemies!"
"So, should we just run out there and grab him or something?", asks Sleet.
"Too plain!", shoots down the dumpy dictator. "Give me two or three weeks and I'll have the most awesome plan to capture that fool, and make him our bitch!"
The EVIL Dr. Robotnik's EVIL laughter echoes loudly from his house.

You glance up from your phone's directions, thinking you heard something.
...Eh, it's probably not related to you.
END CHAPTER 17
Chapter 18 - Back To Normal

You spend the next forty-five minutes trudging across the suburban neighborhoods with your hands weighed down by several textbooks.
Not exactly the highlight of your day.
However, after what felt like an eternity of marching across the repetitive suburban hellscape, FINALLY, you spot your familiar abode.

2502 Maple Street.
You wish you had the words to describe what made your house so unique from the rest. Mostly, it's those little numbers firmly plastered next to the front door.
Otherwise, it's exactly the same as the countless other McMansions lining the last few blocks.

As you advance towards your homestead, you realize that neither of your parent's vehicles are parked out front anywhere.
Well, it's not quite 5 PM yet, maybe they're still at work or something. That's why it's sometimes called a '9-to-5', right?
Well, whatever. You approach the front door of your house and set your heavy textbooks down besides you on the stoop. You stretch and rotate your sore wrists before fishing in your front pocket for your house keys.
After retrieving your keys, you unlock both the handle and deadbolt and open the door. The house is almost unsettlingly dark, as if no one's been here once since you left for school two days ago.

You grab your stack of textbooks and enter the home, shutting the door behind you with your foot, and flipping a nearby switch with your shoulder, filling the room with light.
The interior of your house is pretty bog-standard, just like the exterior.
You currently stand in the living room, which expands further to your left. Beige fabric couch, coffee table, TV resting on top of a wooden entertainment center, whatever.
There's a nearby stairwell leading to the second floor, where all the bedrooms are located.
To your right is the dining room. A large wooden table takes up the majority of space here, with surprisingly elegant wooden chairs lining the sides. Apparently, that tableset was inherited from your grandma after she passed.
Further in the house past the dining room was the kitchen. A large, gray marble countertop lines the back wall, housing a chrome sink and black electric stove. A silvery fridge sits near the right corner.
A sliding glass door with drawn shades is placed in the center of the right wall of the kitchen, leading outside to the back yard.
To the left of the kitchen are two doors, the left leading to the basement, and the right leading to the downstairs bathroom.
In the center of the kitchen is an island with a similarly colored countertop to the one along the back wall.

You wonder exactly why you're describing your environment to yourself, especially since you've been living here for over a week now.
You place your books on the nearby coffee table and head to the kitchen. Hopefully they restocked since you've been gone.
As you turn on the lights, you spot a twenty dollar bill and a sticky note on the island. You could already tell what it was going to say, but out of obligation, you read the note anyway.

Anon,
Had to take clients out for dinner to close this huge deal.
Use this to get some pizza. Don't stay up too late.
-Mom

You can't say you're terribly surprised. This is far from the first time she's pulled something like this.
You pocket the $20 and check the fridge for a drink. Thank god, they DID restock. OJ, soda, and are those microwavable breakfast burritos in the freezer section? Hell yeah, you know what you're eating tomorrow morning.
You fish out a nearby soda and pop the tab before closing the fridge. Time to return upstairs and figure out dinner.
You head up the stairwell near the living room and enter the second door of the hallway. The first one leads to the bathroom, and your parents' room sits at the furthest end of the hall on the left.
Once again, you find yourself back in your room. Home. Safe. Secure. The picture of comfort.
You almost wanted to hug your computer after being away from it for so long. You instead fondly caress the top of the tower before pressing the power switch.
Your 'friend' comes to life with low hum as the monitor displays your operating system's logo.

After the lengthy boot-up, you proceed to open your browser and google for any pizzerias nearby. Unfortunately, the only place that looked like it might be good doesn't deliver, so you're stuck with Pizza Slut.
You browse their website for any deals that might help soften the blow to your wallet. The $9.99 large one-topping is the most appealing to you, since the other offers involve getting several pizzas.
Two pizzas is way too much food for you, and it'd go bad before you could finish it all.
After resolving to order a large pepperoni pie, you pull out your phone to place the order. Most people would just give away their addresses over the internet to faceless corporations out of convenience.
Most people are FOOLS.

Click.

Click.

Oh god damn it, your phone's battery died. How could you forget?
With a sigh, you rise to your feet once more and plug in your phone to the charger. It's gonna be a while before you can make a call on that. You decide to take a shower to kill some time.
None too soon, either. The stink of hedgehog farts was starting to seep into your skin.
You open the underwear drawer of your crappy beat-to-shit dresser and pull out a pair of gray boxer briefs. You then disrobe down to your underwear and head to the shower in the nearby bathroom.

As the hot water beats down upon you, you're left with nothing but your own thoughts for a few moments. You recall the events that transpired since you left here yesterday morning.
"Events". More like "Horrors". You were nearly killed at least 4 times yesterday. First from meeting eyes with Bartleby and almost dying of sheer joy.
Then Aleena holding you at gunpoint after somehow mistaking you for a pedophile.
Then nearly assaulted from the men of the Hedgehog family for the crime of your dad not killing anybody.
Then consuming that foul venom Aleena dared call 'wine'.
Then narrowly avoiding a hail of buckshot from a disgruntled store clerk after Chuck stole a case of beer from him.
Then nearly being arrested for being an accomplice to said theft.
Then almost receiving a cataclysmic beef stew from Bartleby before pawning it off on Chuck in the nick of time.
Then coming close to a stroke trying to teach Sonia basic math.

These last two days SUCKED. You couldn't be happier to be away from that madhouse.

...Is what any normal person would say.

But for some odd reason, despite you finally returning home and being free from that nightmare, you can't help but feel a bit empty after being away from them for an hour.
The faces of all the people you've dealt with so far flash before you.
Aleena's gentle, vulnerable smile after she bore her soul to you.
Chuck's friendly, helpful driving advice.
Manic giving his approving thumbs up after your heartfelt appeal to Sonic.
Sonic's confident smirk after forgiving you for embarrassing Bartleby.
Bartleby asking your n--
NO. You don't remember that. You can't remember that. You're not about to tempt fate and succumb to BMPS again.

But who could forget the countless times Sonia beamed her adorable smile at you?
Or how she clung to you while you slept, with her ear placed firmly against your chest to hear your heartbeat?
You've thought about it constantly as you were walking home. You can't get Sonia's last hug out of your head.

...God damn it. What are you doing?
You know damn well that getting too attached to them is just going to make the inevitable goodbye that much worse.
Why are you so damned invested in these psychopaths to begin with? More than half of them tried killing you, why would you ever want to see them again?

...Because being lonely is that much worse?

...

You silently scrub the filth from your naked and now pruning body after standing beneath running water for almost twenty minutes.
After rinsing one last time and watching the soap scum wash down the drain, you shut off the showerhead and exit the bath, grabbing a towel hanging from the shower curtain rod.
When finished towelling off, you return the towel from whence it came, fetch your clean undies and slip them on effortlessly. You then grab your old undies and exit the bathroom.
Back in your bedroom, you check your phone's charge to see how far along it's come. 8%. Good enough to make a call to order pizza. You turn on your phone properly.
After what felt like an agonizingly slow boot-up, your homescreen finally greets you once more.
As you're about to open up the phone app, your phone buzzes. Apparently you got a text.

No, scratch that. You got FIFTEEN texts.
All of them from Sonia.
Perplexed by the onslaught of messages, you open up your texting app to read all of them.

Sonia (4:17):
HI!!!! LMAO XD
<3 <3 <3

(4:18):
JUST WAnted to say Thanks for EVERYTHING!!!

(4:19):
sry, stupid caps lock at the start of the text XP
never using that agin ROFL

(4:20):
*again
LOL

(4:25):
you there? 030

(4:30):
hellooooooooo? anon?

(4:32):
are you mad at me or sum shit? ;_;

(4:39):
why wont you respond DX

(4:41):
T0T T0T >m<

(4:50):
oh shit did something happen

(4:52):
anon are you still alive?! D:>

(4:54):
I asked mama if she knew why you weren't answering

(4:55):
she said she didn't know DX

(5:00):
anon pls answer ;_;

(5:04):
if you don't answer in the next five minutes I'm calling the cops

OH SHIT
You frantically type up a message to let her know you're safe.

You (5:08):
sorry for not responding
phone's battery died on the way home
just got your texts now

You pray you sent that out in time. Almost as soon as it sends, your phone buzzes once more.

Sonia (5:09)
oh fuck LMAO
XDDDD
I was LITERALLY just dialing the cops when you texted >3<

You groan in relief/frustration before responding

You (5:09):
oh crap
thank god I made it on time

Sonia (5:10):
I was so worried XD
Dont ever not text me again!!!!!! lol
:3

Even in text format, you can't bring yourself to not find this girl adorable. Annoying, yes, but adorable all the same.

You (5:11):
I'll try to keep that in mind
Anyways, I gotta go get dinner
I'll talk at you later, K?

Sonia (5:12):
watcha havin? ,':3

You (5:12):
pizza butt
*hut
sorry, autocorrect

Sonia (5:13):
OMG ROFLMOA XDD
BEWARE THE PIZZA BUTT!!! RAAAAAWR >A<;
🔵🔵👋 ;D

You chuckle to yourself. She really found such a stupid joke that funny.

You (5:14)
lol
I really gotta go tho
later

Sonia (5:14)
K!!! enjoy ur pizza BUTT!
🔵🔵💨
ROFLOL
;P

You finally peel yourself away from your texts to make a call to the local Pizza Hut.
To be perfectly honest, nothing else about tonight really strikes you as being noteworthy.
The pizza showed up on time, it was passable, you put what you didn't eat away in the fridge, and you browsed the internet for three hours as you contemplated playing one of the thousands of games sitting in your backlog.

However, you kept thinking about Sonia the whole time. You'd glance back at your phone on the charger, wondering if you should continue your conversation from earlier.
You kept talking yourself out of it, though. It's not like the conversation would go on much further than "how was dinner", "fine", "cool". You're not exactly interesting.
The lack of conversation doesn't stop you from fantasizing about your new friend, though.
You imagine walking alongside her in an open meadow, talking and laughing together.
She brings you in for a hug, and you embrace her back tightly, spinning her around before the two of you fall to the ground, with her on top of you.
You stare deeply into her eyes, filled with that same joy she had all day, as her cheeks have turned a rosy red.
She leans in deeper towards you and puckers her--

NO
STOP
STOP RIGHT FUCKING THERE

Anon, you've known this girl for a fucking DAY. She's not even HUMAN! Are you REALLY that fucking far gone that you'd even have these thoughts about someone you barely know?!
You're only feeling this way because you're so love-starved that you equate any sort of positive interaction from a woman to full-blown love, when that obviously isn't the reality here.
She's JUST being FRIENDLY. And she's only being friendly because she probably PITIES you. You're the new kid in town, of course you don't have friends here. She's just gonna lose interest in you when she finds out how weird you really are.

Having successfully doused any sort of positive feelings you might have had, you return to your favorite pastime of sulking in your room alone.
Completely bereft of motivation to do anything else, you elect to go to bed instead. It's a bit early, but after the couple of days you had, you felt entitled to more sleep than usual.
You run downstairs quick and make sure the house is locked up and turn off all the lights before returning to your room once more and shutting down everything.
As you crawl into your bed, your phone buzzes one more time.

Sonia sent you another text.

Sonia (8:48):
u still awake? .3.

You smirk slightly.

You (8:48):
yeah

Sonia (8:49):
i just wanted to say it was really nice hanging out with you yesterday
i'm glad we met on the bus :3

...

You (8:53):
same here.
thanks for putting up with me

Sonia (8:54):
no prob!! what r frens for??? ^3^ ~<3

...

You (8:58):
I gotta get to bed
I'll see you tomorrow

Sonia (8:58):
Night, Anon
<3

...You really wish you knew what love felt like before this. That'd make this so much easier.
END CHAPTER 18
Chapter 19 - Lost and Found

You awoke as the morning sun peeked through your crappy shades directly into your eyes. You felt an unusual stiffness in your neck as you roused from your slumber.
The culprit for this discomfort was the fact that you weren't resting your head on your pillow. It seems to have gone missing.
No. Wait. You're clutching it firmly to your chest. It seems you clung onto it in your sleep last night. You do vaguely recall having trouble getting comfortable in the middle of the night.

You choose to ignore the odd sleep behavior in favor of going through your morning routine of shit, hair, teeth, and dressing before grabbing your newly charged phone and heading downstairs.
Yet again, the house was bereft of your parental figures, but you weren't too bothered by it. You fish out a couple of breakfast burritos from the freezer and set about heating them up in the microwave.
Upon finishing the cooking process, you immediately munch down on your hearty egg-and-sausage meal.

Eugh. It's still a bit cold and mushy in the middle.

After scrolling through your favorite imageboards on your phone and seeing nothing but topics that anger you, arouse you, or both, you proceed to grab your textbooks and take a bit of an early leave.
You only barely made it to the bus stop last time, and now you were carrying a much heftier load this time.
You make a mental note to ask Mr. Davisen what happened to your backpack after you fell ill two days ago. Hopefully it's in some sort of Lost-And-Found at the main office or something.

Once again, you make it to your destination just before your lemon-colored chariot rounds the corner and picks you up.
As you board the bus, you prepare for a new slew of insults and gossip from your peers to assault your ears.
However, you realize the bus falls suspiciously silent upon your arrival. Most of your fellow students are gazing upon you in wide-eyed wonder. Or perhaps 'Shock' would be more accurate.
Passing between the seats, you hear various murmurs from the kids gossiping about you.

"isn't that the kid that got BMPS the other day?"
"how the fuck is he still alive?"
"I heard his dad is a serial killer or some shit"
Oh god dammit. The rumors about your father have degraded much worse than you could have imagined in your absence.
"I'monna clap them cheeks one day"
Okay, that last boy really makes you uncomfortable. You're not certain if it's what he's saying, or the fact that he has an unusually bassy voice for a 14-year-old.

As you scan over the seats, praying you find one that's empty, a pink hand giddily waves near the back as a familiar voice rings out.
"Hi, Anon!", greets Sonia, who just barely peeks over the seat. Upon hearing her voice, it's as if your drab, dreary world has color once more. Your expression brightens up as you make your way over to your friend.
However, as you approach, your mood suddenly drops, as an unfamiliar figure pops into view, taking up the seat next to Sonia. He's leering at you suspiciously.

The figure is yet another Mobian, but a different species from the Hedgehogs. He doesn't seem to have ears, and his nose comes to more of a point, compared to the flatter, rounder faces of Sonia and Manic.
His fur is a bright shade of red, and his hair, shaped into spiked dreads, drapes down around his head, touching his shoulders.
He's wearing a red hoodie, but the neckline has been stretched a bit, causing his left shoulder to be exposed, revealing his white t-shirt underneath.
This Mobian is also wearing light brown jeans of some sort, and his sneakers are red and yellow with green...are those socks, or something?
For that matter, are those Legos attached to his shoes, or some sort of metal plate?
But what really stands out are his gloves. They're more akin to mitts or boxing gloves, but have strange, spiked protrusions coming from the knuckles of them.

"Who's the new meat?", asked the unfamiliar creature to Sonia while still giving you the evil eye.
"Knuckles, this is Anon, the new kid", introduces the pink Hedgehog. "I told you about him yesterday, remember?"
So, this guy's name is Knuckles, huh?
"Anon, this is my friend, Knuckles the Echidna", Sonia finishes introducing the two of you.
"Knuckles the COOL Echidna", corrects Knuckles, glaring at Sonia.
"O-Okay...n-nice to meet you?", you awkwardly respond, unsure of how to feel regarding this development.

"WOULD YOU SIT DOWN ALREADY, YOU FUCKING QUEER?!", requests the bus driver. "WE'S IS GON' BE LATE FER SCHOOL!!!"
Snapped out of your conversation, you desperately glance around, hoping there's an empty seat nearby. A few rows towards the front of the bus, you spot a head of white hair sitting by its lonesome.
Oh, lord, PLEASE don't let this kid have an autistic obsession with Final Fantasy or some gay-ass anime or something.

You hurriedly take the empty spot besides this white-haired person, muttering an awkward "Sorry" as you sit down and rest your pile of books on your lap.
The white-haired girl doesn't even seem to notice you. Good. You decide to focus on Sonia instead of bothering your seat partner.
However, the distance between the two of you is significant. You can't make out anything she's saying over the chatter of the other students.
Realizing that you're probably not going to get the chance to talk to her for the rest of the trip, you sullenly return your gaze down towards your feet.
You pondered the exact relationship between Knuckles and Sonia. Were they really just friends, or were they something more?

...Oh, hell, what does it matter to you? It's not like you're Sonia's boyfriend either. Maybe it's best to let her catch up with her friend, you need to focus on what you need to do today anyway.
First things first, find your backpack. It's been missing since you lost consciousness the other day. It had all of your paperwork which told you your schedule for the day, as well as which locker belonged to you.
You'll start by checking in with the principal's office.

After determining your course of action for the morning, you return to your usual regimen of staring blankly at nothing, interspersed with occasional forlorn glances back at Sonia and Knuckles.
The bus eventually rolls up to the school's walkway, and comes to a stop.
"I'M GIVIN' YOU LITTLE SHITS TEN SECONDS TO GIT OFFA MY BUS", calls out the bus driver, clearly happy with his lot in life, "'AFORE I STARTS LOADIN' MUH GUN!"
The riders collectively groan with excitement and begin ambling off the bus in unison. You shuffle along with the crowd.
Right after you exit your yellow metal chariot, you approach the front doors of the school. As you're about to enter, Sonia's voice calls out from behind you.

"Hey, Anon! Wait up!", shouts your pink friend. You turn your gaze back towards Sonia hustling after you. "Where are you going?", she asks.
"I need to go to the principal's office to find my stuff", you explain. "I'm tired of carrying THESE damn things around all the time", you then say, jostling your mound of hefty textbooks.
"You want me to come with?", Sonia offers. Some part of you wants to turn her down out of concern for her attendance record, but, truthfully, you're still unfamiliar with the layout of this building.
"If it wouldn't be too much trouble...", you say, implying you'd like her help. Sonia winks and gives a thumbs-up gesture.
"Stick close to me, I'll get you there!", she enthusiastically replies, before taking the lead. You shuffle behind her, taking care not to lose sight of her in the crowd.

Sonia's wearing a pink v-necked sweater with a white button-up collared shirt and black necktie underneath. She's also wearing a white pleated skirt and thigh-high socks, and black strapped shoes.
In short, she looks like a stereotypical Japanese schoolgirl. She pulls off the look really well. Though, you might be biased with all the Ugly Bastard porn you consume.

"I was a little worried you were upset with me, Anon", Sonia suddenly states, catching you off-guard. "You kinda ran off on your own without even saying anything"
"Why would I be upset with you?", you query in response.
"Because I wasn't available to talk to for the bus ride", she responds in kind. "You obviously wanted to chat with me, but you were stuck a billion seats away"
"It's not your fault there weren't any empty seats nearby", you riposte. "It's just what happens when you're the last kid to get picked up. I'm not angry or hurt or anything"
"So why'd you look so sad whenever I glanced over to you the whole time?", Sonia asked.
...Did you really appear that miserable? You didn't even notice. And you certainly didn't think Sonia would notice. She's much more observant than you initially thought.
As you attempt to think of a response, Sonia suddenly stops in front of you, causing you to bump into her by accident.

"S-sorry", you stutter out, before realizing you've reached your destination.
"Here we are! Principal Fattbut's office!", Sonia proclaims.
...What a lovely surname. Certainly one of prestige and honor, with a long, proud history. Just the sound of it causes a wry smile to spread across your face.
"Lemme get the door for you", the pink Mobian offers, opening the door to the office. "I gotta run to class, so I'll let you go. We can talk then, okay?"
"Thanks, Sonia", you reply before heading in. She shines her iconic smile at you and closes the door behind you before dashing off down the hallway.

...You realize you failed to memorize the route to the office. It was like the world melted away during that conversation. Great job, genius.

"Can I help you, young man?" a nasally voice drones from behind the nearby counter. You approach to see a chunky woman with her brown hair in a bun typing away at her computer.
"Umm, I was wondering if someone turned in a gray and black bookbag recently?", you ask, stating your business. "I lost it after I fell ill with BMPS"
"Oh, you're Anon, I see", states the portly secretary. You glance over at the nameplate situated on her desk. 'Secretary Spredd' is prominently displayed.
Mrs. Spredd reaches down below the counter and brings up a huge tote with 'Lost and Found' sloppily written on the side with various items and contraband within.
You set your books down and begin rifling through the miscellany. Cell phones, a Thomas the Tank Engine lunchbox, pencil boxes, sets of crayons, all of them missing several colors, is that a 3DS?
After a few minutes, you find something buried deep within the tote. With a concerted effort, you yank on the handle to produce a gray and black bookbag. It's yours, alright. It still has the padlock for your locker dangling from it.

"Thank you, Mrs. Spredd!", you exclaim gratefully. You open the bag to find that it's completely empty. What the hell, you had tons of papers in here the other--Oh.
Shit, that's right. You lost most of them on your first day here.
"Um, there wasn't any paperwork that was turned in alongside this bag, was there?", you ask the secretary hesitantly.
"Afraid not. Sorry", Mrs. Spredd states plainly. Can't say you're surprised. "Why don't you check with your homeroom teacher?"

Good idea. Back to homeroom. "You don't happen to know the way to room 114, would you?", you ponder.
"From here, go left and follow the hallway to the big open area, then take the second hallway on the left from the front doors and follow THAT until you see Room 114", Spredd rattles off in her monotonous voice.
You stuff your numerous tomes into your backpack and thank the secretary before beginning your new journey. As you meander about the halls, you wonder if there's some sort of minotaur wandering about the school.
At least that would explain why the fuck this stupid-ass architecture is so labyrinthian.
After a few minutes of trudging about, you finally come across somewhat familiar surroundings, and spot Room 114 on your right.

You enter the room and everyone's eyes are immediately locked onto you, including Mr. Davisen's. You spot Sonia chipperly waving at you, as Knuckles glares suspiciously at you.
"Uhm, s-sorry for being tardy, Mr. Davisen", you apologize anxiously to your teacher. "I was in the principal's office grabbing my bookbag"
"I'll let it slide this time because you're new, just don't let it happen again", warns Mr. Davisen. "If you could please take your seat"
"Uh, before that, sir", you hesitantly reply, "did you happen to still have that paperwork I dropped the other day? I need to know my schedule and which locker I'm at"
"Oh, yes, hang on a second", your teacher responds before heading to his desk and opening one of the drawers, fishing out a small stack of papers.
"I actually forgot to give these to Sonia yesterday, so I'm to blame for this in a way", Mr. Davisen says, handing you the paperwork you've been missing.

You thank your teacher before heading over to your desk. Finally, you're back on track. School should be a cakewalk from now on.
You rifle through your papers to find a map of the school's layout. Fuck, if you knew you had this, you wouldn't have bothered asking Sonia for directions on your first day here.
Well, whatever. You pore over it to spot where your locker's location is in relation to your homeroom. Fortunately, it's not far from here at all. Just down the hallway, in fact. Number 217.
Then, your next class: Math, Mr. Stevens, Room 123. Ha. Counting. The classroom is actually just a bit further down the hall, your locker being basically halfway between the two classes. Perfect.

You slide your papers back into your rucksack and turn your attention to the others around you. It seems they're all treating this as free time, considering none of them are nose-deep in a textbook or some shit.
Mindy's browsing Facebook on her phone.
Manic's playing Fortnite on his.
The white-haired blue girl (Flora, you think her name is?) is doodling something in the margins of her notebook.
Sonic is snacking on some Funyuns.
Who cares what that kid behind you is doing.
Bartleby is mysteriously absent.
Knuckles is still glaring at you.
Sonia--
"Hi, study-buddy!", the lively rosy Mobian girl interrupts your analysis.

Oh, right. You've been wanting to talk with Sonia all morning. Now you finally have your chance.
"So, what's up?", asks Sonia.

And then it hits you.

You have absolutely nothing to talk about.

"...not much, you?", you blankly state, shrugging your shoulders.
"Same here", Sonia replies, also shrugging.

...Why the fuck did you want to talk to her at all this morning? You said all you needed to last night.
END CHAPTER 19
Chapter 20 - The Cool Echidna

The bell rings out, signaling the end of Homeroom. You had about five minutes to get to your next class, so now was as good a time as any to stop by your locker and drop off your unnecessary weight.
You wave off Sonia as she heads in the opposite direction from you, and begin your scholastic journey.
First stop, locker 217.

Amidst the hustle and bustle of the other students, it's actually pretty tough to make out which locker is yours initially, but eventually, you find your designated locker. It's just across from the Drama Club room.
You grab the handle and open said locker with a clatter.
It's completely empty. It must be yours, alright.
You proceed to dump off your unnecessary books and papers, keeping only your math and English tomes, your schedule, and map of the school. You weren't one hundred percent sure about your day yet, so you figured it's better to be safe than sorry.

With the weight off your back, you feel more confident, and less likely to collapse from overexertion. Thank God.
You seal your locker and place your padlock on the latch, securing the contents within.
Having finished your task here, you confidently turn to your right to begin the next part of your journey.

And immediately, your eyes meet with Knuckles'.
The sudden appearance of the red Mobian startles you, causing you to jump back a bit with a less-than-dignified "GYK!"
After regaining your composure, you realize he's probably not here to hurt you. Although, Knuckles is barely over three feet tall. He'd have to stand on his tip-toes if he wanted to punch you in the stomach.

"Oh, heh, hey, sorry about that", you apologize with a light chuckle. Knuckles' steely gaze is still transfixed upon you.
"Umm, you're Knuckles, right?", you ask, hoping to break the ice. "W-what are you doing here?"
"Not much. Just getting some things from my locker", the Echidna coldly replies, before undoing the padlock on locker 218.
"Oh! I guess we're gonna be neighbors, then!", you exclaim, somewhat relieved. Knuckles responds with a wordless grunt.

Truth be told, you've been wanting to know more about Knuckles, but didn't think you'd have much opportunities to chat without Sonia nearby. This way, you get to see what the real Knuckles is like.
"Well, uh, I...hope we can be friends", you nervously offer. Knuckles comes to a stop as he pulls out a textbook.
"Friends, huh?", says Knuckles. His face is partially obscured by his locker. You can't see his eyes at all, but his mouth is visible. A smile begins to spread across his face.
"Yeah. We can be friends, alright", continues the crimson kid. There's an unusual tone in his voice. You couldn't help but feel a sense of unease from it.

Knuckles pulls his head from his locker, and his expression isn't one of friendliness. The smirk he has on carries a sinister vibe to it.
"You know what friends do for their friends?", asks Knuckles, menacingly, as he slams his locker shut. You instinctively take a step backwards.
"They give them twenty dollars whenever they ask for it", concludes the ruby ruffian.
Seeing an opportunity to lighten the mood, you reach your hand out and put on an awkward smile.
"Okay, can I have twenty bucks?", you innocently ask. Knuckles' expression changes from a wry grin to an annoyed scowl.

It appears that you have stepped in a shit pile. Well done.

"You know what you are, Anon?", queries the scarlet scourge.
"You're a smart-ass", he answers his own question. Knuckles then reaches past your hand and clutches your shirt. He then IMMEDIATELY pulls you down to meet his eye level.
You couldn't even muster any resistance to that yank. Knuckles might be short, but he is ABSURDLY strong. Part of you ponders how he got this strong in the first place.

"And I HATE Smart-asses", hisses the cherry terror.

Fear begins to grip you. Forget about making friends with this guy, you start to wonder if you'll even survive an encounter with him.
"S-s-sorry, man", you stammer, "I-I-I-I was j-just k-k-kidding"
"JUST kidding?", asks Knuckles. "'Kidding' means that you don't respect me enough to answer honestly. And NOBODY disrespects Knuckles the Cool Echidna"
You attempt to reason with this tiny tyrant, but your words refuse to leave your throat.

"Let me rephrase my suggestion from earlier, so you don't TWIST it with your little quips, like every Joss Whedon character", Knuckles states, tightening his clutch on the word 'twist'.
"Give me twenty dollars", orders the vermillion villain.
"I-I don't have twenty dollars", you hesitantly tell Knuckles. The twisted grin makes its return to his face.
"That's fine", he surprisingly states. "It...it is?", you ask, confused.

"Yep, after all, I can just get twenty bucks from the tooth fairy instead", declares Knuckles.
"T...tooth fairy?", you ask, perplexed, though you had an inkling of where he was going with this.
"The way I see it, the tooth fairy's gotta shell out at least a dollar per tooth, and you just happen to have more than twenty teeth in your skull", Knuckles explains with a bone-chilling plainness to his voice.
He's done shit like this before. Oh fuck.
Knuckles drops his book and begins to ball his free hand into a fist in front of your face.
"Just don't swallow your teeth. I don't want to have to wait for you to strain your poop to find your molars", threatens the diminuitive dastard.

Your eyes rapidly dart about. You desperately try to think of a way out of this situation, but panic has completely overtaken your thoughts.
Knuckles rears his fist back, preparing a punch of no-doubt Herculean proportions. You might not survive this hit.
Just as he's about ready to deliver a wallop, the bell rings out. Knuckles stops right in his tracks.

"Shit. Coach Johnson's gonna make me scrub his wrinkly ballsack again if I'm late", Knuckles grumbles to himself.
...You really don't want to be late to gym class.
The Echidna tosses you to the ground with little effort. "Saved by the bell, freak. We'll meet again", says Knuckles as he grabs his book and heads off to class.
You stumble to your feet after grabbing your books as he disappears down the hall.

Note to self: AVOID KNUCKLES AT ALL COSTS.
END CHAPTER 20
Chapter 21 - By The Numbers

After the shock of your encounter with Knuckles had worn off, you realized you were late to math class. You'd already missed two days before, this wasn't going to leave a good first impression on Mr. Stevens.
From what you'd heard, Mr. Stevens was the worst teacher in school, who no one liked dealing with. Though, you have to wonder if it's just because most kids around here seem violent and retarded.
Whatever the case, you had to book it down to room 123, NOW.

Puffing and wheezing, you hustle down the twisting, turning hallway, before finally arriving at your destination. Anxiety strikes you once more as you grip the handle, unsure of how the teacher would react to your tardiness.
However, something was strange. Unlike most of the other classrooms you passed on the way here, there seemed to be a ruckus happening just beyond the door. Everywhere else had been silent.

You apprehensively open the door and behold a scene similar to the climax of One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest. Your fellow students were shouting, fighting, flinging paper wads everywhere, it was absolute chaos.
You again wondered if you hadn't been enlisted in the retard Math class.
Your eyes scan over the room, hoping to spot any familiar faces. Unfortunately, you had no such luck. You think you might have seen one or two of these students in your homeroom, but you weren't properly acquainted.
The desks are in complete disarray, vandalized with various incorrect swastikas etched into them.
The ceiling tiles were peppered with writing implements deeply lodged into them. The walls were coated in brown streaks, the consistency of which ruled out water or oil-based paints.

What's really odd, however, besides the unruly behavior of the students, was that the teacher was absent. His desk sits forlornly off to the side of the whiteboard, which is coated in graffiti of crudely drawn genitalia and more imperfect swastikas.
There must be a lot of burgeoning buddhists in this class.

"HEY!", a voice hollers out. Your eyes snap towards the source of the sound, as the rest of the class falls silent.
Sitting in the center of this rowdy group is a young, tan man, with his black hair spiked up in a sort of twin mohawk, the tips of which are dyed red. His arms are outstretched, as if to call everyone to his attention.
He's wearing a denim vest and red tanktop, shredded blue jeans, and a pair of beat-up white tennis shoes. He's also wearing fingerless leather gloves. The unknown young man lowers his arms and motions towards you.

"We have a new student joining us today", calmly declares the youth, as the group's eyes collectively lock onto you. You freeze, like a deer in the headlights. You've got no idea how this is going to play out.
"Aw, don't act so scared", encourages the leader of this hoodlum band, "Go on, tell us your name."
"Uhh, it's, uh, Anon", you hesitantly state. "Hi."
"Anon, huh?", asks the ruffian as he rises to his feet and approaches you. He's actually fairly tall compared to the other kids around here, even taller than you.
"My name's Rufio", the young man introduces himself.

No fucking way.

"L-like that guy from that live-action Peter Pan m--", you start to say, before Rufio firmly places his hand on your left shoulder with a grim expression.
"I'm gonna give you one chance to not finish that sentence", gently warns the shitskinned psycho. Clearly, this was a sensitive topic.
"...You rock the name much better than that fag anyway", you say, hoping ingratiating yourself might spare you the wrath of this young man.
Rufio's expression slowly brightens into a smug grin. "I think we're gonna be good friends, Anon", he says, before turning his gaze towards the crowd of "students".
"HEY! Bring a fuckin' desk and chair over here next to mine!", orders Rufio to the gang. Immediately, the group shuffle around the furniture and place it haphazardly next to where Rufio was previously sitting.
It seems your desk has arrived. Rufio leads you to your seat before taking his once more.

...Jesus, it's just four fucking L's connected to each other, how braindead do you have to be to fuck up a swastika so many times?

"So, ya new in our school?", asks the Mohawk-wearing boss. "Y-yeah, uh, I just started a few days ago", you nervously reply.
"How come we ain't seen you 'til today?", Rufio asks with suspicion in his voice.
"I came down with Bartleby Montclair Proximity Syndrome in homeroom on my first day", you reply. "I spent yesterday sick at home."
"YOU came down with BMPS?", queries the brutish commander. "BULL. SHIT", he then loudly declares.

"What's hard to believe about that?", you ask, puzzled by his accusation.
"BMPS is basically a fucking death sentence if you're lucky", Rufio explains. "And if you ain't so lucky...well, just ask Tommy over there", he states, before motioning over to one corner of the room.
You glance over to see a horrifically gnarled quadroplegic child in one of those electric wheelchairs. He's currently flailing his arms about, making sickening gurgling noises and random unintelligible screams.
That must be Tommy.

"So you're tellin' me you came down with what Tommy had, and are walkin' and talkin' like you are now?", ponders the delinquent beside you. "Forgive me if I'm a little skeptical of that excuse"
They really weren't kidding about BMPS. What a horrific disease. You feel kind of shitty complaining about being unable to walk for a day now.
"Eh, whatever. I'm just glad you're here now", says Rufio, changing the subject. "You're about to bear witness to another wonderful show!", he then declares, placing his feet up on his desk.
"Sh-show?", you inquire. "I'd heard everyone thought this class was the worst one in school"
"Whaaaaat? What kind of monster would spread such libelous slander?", quizzes the regent of the rogues. "Mr. S. is our FAVORITE teacher, RIGHT, GANG?!", Rufio shouts, causing the class to uproar once more.

"Soooo, where is he, then?", you ask. "I like to think he's building up some, uh...", replies Rufio, before making a drinking gesture with his hand and clicking his tongue. "...courage. Stage anxiety gets to all of us, ya know"
What the hell is this asshole talking about? As you sit, confused by the entire situation, you hear the doorknob slowly click open. Rufio raises his hand to silence his minions as a smile spreads across his face.
The door slowly creaks open. Standing in the doorway was a balding, mustached White man, shaking like a leaf. His eyes are as big as dinner plates, with countless bags under them from no doubt years of stress.
The mustachioed man timidly shuffles into the room, avoiding eye contact with anyone in the class.

"'EY, TEACH!", bellows Rufio, nearly blowing out your ear drums. The man flinches, like he was anticipating someone throwing a punch at him.
...THIS trainwreck was Mr. Stevens? You almost felt sorry for him.
"...G-g-good morning, Rufio", whimpers Mr. Stevens. You barely heard him, and you're in the, uh...well, you're close enough to him to be considered in the front row.
"Ain'tcha gonna say g'morning to our new student, here?", asks the tyrannical terrorist. "His name's An-On", he introduces you...incorrectly.
"oh god there's another one", the teacher mutters under his breath. "Umm, I-I'd r-r-rather g-g-g-g-get started on t-t-today's c-c-c-c-c-curriculum", stammers the stressed-out Stevens.

"Yeah?", asks Rufio. As the teacher picks up one of those dry-erase markers, Rufio slams his fist down on his desk, shouting "GET ON WITH IT!", causing the teacher to flinch again and drop the marker.
The class derisively laughs at Mr. Stevens as he bends down to pick up his dropped writing utensil. A hailstorm of paper wads pelts the poor man before he straightens himself upright once more.
"Class, I'm l-l-l-legally REQUIRED to ask you at least one question related to m-ma-math for today", he explains, causing the peanut gallery to erupt in boos and hisses. "P-please, just l-l-let me ask this and I'll l-l-let you d-do whatever you w-w-want for the r-r-r-rest of the p-p-ppperiod"
"GET IT OVER WITH!", shouts the nearby ruffian. The others begin chanting the same thing until pretty much everyone (save for yourself, the teacher, and Tommy) is swept up in the ruckus.
Mr. Stevens nervously begins writing the equation on the whiteboard. His every stroke leaves a streaking noise. Finally, the problem is laid bare, and the chanting comes to an end.

"W...what is...f-f-f-f-five plus six?", asks the anxiety-addled arithmetic educator.
"FOURTEEN THOUSAND, DUHUHUHUH", shouts a roughneck from one corner of the room, throwing on an obnoxious chuckle for good measure.
"FIFTY SIX", Rufio interjects.
The classroom is filled with incorrect answers and mocking laughter. Unfortunately, one poor soul actually decides to answer correctly.
"Eleven?", you ask, raising your hand. The room falls deathly silent.

Wait.

YOU said that?

WHY did you say that?

WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST DO

You feel the collective shift their glares of ire towards you. In one single word, you've effectively ostracized yourself amongst your peer group. You just set the speedrunning record of being a social pariah.
Kudos.

"A-ANON!", suddenly shouts Mr. Stevens. "I...I WON'T STAND FOR SUCH DISRESPECTFUL OUTBURSTS FROM YOU!"
You're completely lost at this point. What the fuck is even happening?
"OUTSIDE! IN THE HALL! NOW!", frantically screams the teacher. You clumsily scramble to your feet, grab your things and shuffle out into the hallway, with Mr. Stevens hot in pursuit.
When the teacher slams the door behind you two, apprehension takes hold of you. Mr. Stevens glares at you for a few moments before desperately asking "you're not one of them, are you?", dropping the facade.

"Sir, what the hell's going on here?", you ask, utterly perplexed by the situation. "Why is this classroom a fucking mental institution?"
"It's obvious that you're already smarter than 98% of the people in this school, Anon", Mr. Stevens elucidates. "Revealing your power level like that is sure to get you killed here"
"Wh-what can I do?", you query, unsure of your lot in life now. "If I send you back in there, you're as good as dead", your teacher reveals. "It'd be a complete waste of a good mind to have you die here"
"From now on, you're free to wander the halls for First Period", Mr. Stevens offers. "Go to the bathroom, go to the roof, I don't care, just don't come here again for the rest of the year. I'll clear it with the rest of the faculty"
"What about my assignments?", you ponder. "Meet me at the Teacher's Lounge between 3rd and 4th Period", instructs your instructor. "When you drop them off for me, I'll let you know the next assignment"

"Thanks, Mr. Stevens", you state, grateful for having such a dedicated teacher. As your teacher turns back towards the classroom, a question nags at you.
"Sir, why do you let the other kids treat you like shit?", you quiz, concerned for your cool teacher's mental health.
"It turns me on sexually when I'm subjugated by lesser beings", plainly states your newly revealed perverted teacher.
"Okay, bye", you flatly reply before turning away and getting the hell out of there.

You know you said it before, but math really IS a free subject this year.

Fuck yeah.
END CHAPTER 21
Chapter 22 - Teacher Is An Anagram For Cheater

You gaze out at the empty hallway before you. You're almost overwhelmed at the feeling of liberation. You take a long, deep breath of air through your nose, savoring the smell of freedom.

hurk

Oh god. The janitors have obviously given up doing their jobs at this school. That stench is fucking FOUL. NEVER do that again here.
You take a long, deep series of shallow breaths through your mouth, using your teeth as a filter.
You're free to do as you please for the next forty-five minutes.

...Well, not really. Mr. Stevens hasn't had a chance to clear things with the faculty regarding your situation, so wandering the halls probably isn't the best idea.
You can't just go outside, since the doors automatically lock you out of the building.
You could go to the bathroom and jerk off, but then you have to clean yourself up, and if someone catches you, well, suffice it to say, your reputation would suffer immensely.
Besides, you do enough of that shit at home. You've always believed in keeping your school life and home life separate.

So...what CAN you do? This 'liberation' was much more short-lived than you had liked it to be.
After a little thinking, you come to the realization that you still hadn't memorized your schedule for the year. Maybe learning that might kill some time.
You dig through your backpack and dig out your schedule and the map of the school.

Okay, here we go. You arrive at school around 7:45 AM.
Homeroom lasts from 8:00 to 8:30. It takes place at room 114.
Next, from 8:40 to 9:30 is Math, room 123, though you don't really have to commit that to memory anymore.
After that, 9:40 to 10:30 is English, room 216. You haven't even been upstairs at this school yet.
Following that, 10:40 to 11:30, History, room 109.
From there, 11:40 to 12:30, is...gym class at the gymnasium. A chill runs up your spine as you recall all the horrific, torturous punishments for tardiness that are handed out by Coach Johnson. Tardiness for his class was unacceptable.
Shaking off the apprehension, you return to your schedule. 12:30 to 1:00, lunch.
1:10 to 2:00, Art, room 201.
2:10 to 3:00, Science, room 102.
And finally, 3:10 to 4:00, American Literature, room 212.

Ugh. What a twisted route. And you have to stop between certain classes to go to your locker. Fuck.

Oh wait, shit, you gotta stop at the teacher's lounge between 3rd and 4th period, where's that at?
Let's see, teacher's lounge, teacher's lounge...AHA! 2nd floor, right between Rooms 205 and 206. On the opposite side of the building from the gym.
Great.

You heave a frustrated sigh before putting away your documents and pulling out your phone. The current time is...9:02.

...fuck it, time to hide in the upstairs boy's restroom and shitpost on your favorite Tibetan Throat Singing Enthusiast's imageboard.
Stealthily making your way through the halls, you proceed up the staircase at the end to reach the second floor men's bathroom.

After about 30 minutes of ceaselessly berating the poor, unpaid moderators through your phone's internet browser, the bell rings, announcing the end of First Period.
You had about 10 minutes to find room 216 now. English class was next, with Ms. Clivinsky as your teacher. You pondered how she would turn out as a proctor as you marched through the now bustling halls of the second floor.
Fortunately, you find the place somewhat easily. It's actually just a few doors down from where you were. You enter the room to see several other students already seated.

Unlike your first period class, however, the mood was completely different. Rather than everyone being rambunctious hoodlums, the air was dour, filled with dread. Nobody wanted to be here.
Well, that's not exactly uncommon, who the hell actually WANTS to go to school?
As your eyes pass over the room, you feel someone tapping your right shoulder. You glance over, but nobody is there. You then turn your head in the opposite direction and suddenly see a familiar shade of pink.

"Hey, study-buddy!"

You instinctively jump back at the surprising appearance of Sonia. She giggles at your shocked reaction.
"I didn't know you had English at the same time as me!", exclaims the energetic hedgehog. "C'mon! I'll show you your seat!"
Sonia clutches your free hand and drags you through the sea of desks before you.

You start to feel blood rushing to your face as your cheeks turn a shade of beet red.

Girl hold hand
GIRL HOLD HAND
PANIC
SWEAT.EXE ACTIVATED
VOLUME: MAXIMUM (LEGALLY ALLOWABLE)

"Here ya are!", states Sonia as she releases her grip and presents the desk in front of you, before taking her seat next to yours. You awkwardly mumble as you sit down and place your books on the desktop.
"I'm so glad you're here", sighs the normally vivacious girl. "Maybe you being here can make this period at least a little more bearable. Ms. Clivinsky is the WORST"
"I thought you said Mr. Stevens was the worst", you recall. "Mr. Stevens is the worst TEACHER", replies Sonia. "Ms. Clivinsky isn't so much a teacher as she is a WITCH"
"Th-that bad, huh?", you query. "She takes pleasure in failing every one of her students", Sonia continues. "She's known as 'the GPA Black Hole'".

Aw, HELL. It would have been nice if she mentioned any of this earlier.
However, she did say Mr. Stevens was bad, but he turned out to be really nice to you (although he IS a bit of a pervert). Maybe Sonia's assessment of your English teacher might be misleading as well?
Most of the other kids here seem a special kind of 'tarded. Maybe they only think Clivinsky's bad because they struggle with her curriculum.
You'd best keep that sentiment under wraps. Nobody likes the guy insulting everyone's intelligence. You fear you'd wind up strung up by your intestines before the day was over.

As you think to yourself, the door to the classroom creaks open once more. A hush falls over the crowd of students, save for a few gasps of terror.
Entering the room was a hunched-over elderly woman garbed in the most drab olive-colored dress you'd ever seen. Her gray, grizzled hair was pulled back into a high bun. In short, she had the attire of a stereotypical schoolmarm.
And then you look at her face and WOW that is a big fuckin' nose. Honestly, 'beak' would be more accurate. It takes up at least eighty percent of her face, and seems to be afflicted with some sort of rash or skin condition.
Her eyes are beady and black, sunken from age and perhaps contempt as well. Her mouth is downturned into what seems to be a permanent scowl, with a humungous, hairy mole protruding on her chin.
The phrase, 'resting bitch face', comes to mind immediately.

As she enters the room, her shriveled, wrinkly frown surprisingly turns upwards into a cruel smile. Her eyes narrow with a sense of superiority, and an unusually smug yet scratchy "Good morning, class" leaks out of her lips.
The class mumbles and mutters their morning greetings with little enthusiasm. Ms. Clivinsky takes her seat at the large wooden desk at the front of the class.
"With the morning's greetings out of the way", Clivinsky declares, "I'd like everyone to turn in yesterday's assignments so I may begin my favorite part of the day"

The class grumbles apprehensively as each student approaches the teacher's desk with their homework in hand. Clivinsky rhythmically taps her long french-tipped fingernails on her desk as the work comes piling in.
Sonia seems particularly ashamed of something as she hands in her sheet. You hand in your work without a second thought.
When everyone had finished turning in their work, Clivinsky slowly, dramatically pulled out a red felt-tipped pen and removed its cap. She then gathered the sheets into one pile and began to grade the assignments.
A wry smile cracked across her face ever wider than before. "JULIE!", she loudly calls out. One of the female students flinches upon hearing the name. You then hear Clivinsky making several marks on the sheet with her pen.

"F!", shouts the wicked teacher. Julie starts to sob silently. "TREVOR!", shouts Clivinsky once more. This time, one of the male students cringes at the sound of his own name. Once again, the felt-tipped pen squeaks multiple times against the sheet in her hand.
"F!", she bellows. 'Trevor' buries his face in shame.
This process continues for a while until finally, the teacher reaches a familiar name.
"Hmhmhmm...Sonia", chuckles Ms. Clivinsky. "My FAVORITE student."
You glance over at your neighbor. Sonia has tears welling up in her eyes and is clenching her fists. With how upbeat she usually is, you can't help but feel your heart sink, watching Sonia being so downtrodden.
"Wrong. Wrong! Wrong, wrong wrong", declares Clivinsky with each stroke of her pen. Every utterance of the word 'wrong' causes Sonia to squirm.
At last, Clivinsky finishes her corrections.
"F!", she shouts out.

Sonia slams her eyes shut and puts her head down, sobbing. You instinctively reach your hand out, but you're unsure of how exactly to comfort her. You just retract your hand, balling it into a fist.
Damn it. Sonia wasn't kidding. Clivinsky really IS a witch. This display just made you hate that wrinkly old bat.

"Oh?", vocalizes the miserable mentor. "I don't recognize THIS name. Does this say "Anus"?"
You dared not correct her now, lest your nickname for the rest of the year be 'Anus'. Let's see where this goes.
"No, wait, it's Anon", she says, pronouncing it 'Ayy-nin'. "Goodness, I know you kids get worse names with every generation, but still!"
"Perhaps it's NOT your real name, you're just being a class clown, hmm?", she ponders outloud, hoping to get a rise out of you. You keep your cool.
"Well, class clown or no, we'll just see who has the last laugh", she proclaims, before readying her pen.

She eyes the worksheet with a smug expression. After a few moments, her smile fades. Then, her eyes widen in shock, her mouth becomes agape. She then starts to wear a look of indignation, which turns into white hot fury by the time she reaches the end.
Clivinsky slams her pen-holding hand onto her desk, the noise echoing through the room.
"Who is responsible for this", hisses the misanthropic hag.

The students begin to exchange looks, perplexed by the situation. Clivinsky's eyes dart about the room, hoping to find the culprit, before they lock onto yours.
"YOU", she utters, pointing a single crinkled finger in your direction before rising from her chair.
Uh-oh.

You hear a sound like Lucifer's cloven hooves trodding along the fiery cobblestones of Hell as Clivinsky's heels clatter during her approach towards you.
"I don't recall seeing YOU in this class before", states the aged battleaxe. "Am I to assume YOU'RE Ayynin?", she then asks, glaring at you with pure hatred.
"It's 'Anon'", you finally correct her, the feeling being mutual. The teacher foists the sheet she's clutching into your view. "What is the meaning of this?", asks the cantankerous crone.
It's definitely your handiwork alright. "It's...the assignment you gave me?", you answer hesitantly. Clivinsky slams the sheet onto your desk.

"HOW THE HELL DID YOU MANAGE TO GET A PERFECT SCORE?!", screeched the malevolent pedagogue.
"Ma'am, the assignment was 'list seven adverbs'", you reply flatly. "I did shit like this back in second grade."
"I don't believe you", spat the crusty cunt. "I think you CHEATED!"
"Cheated?!", you shout with righteous indignation. "How the hell could I have cheated?"
"Because there's no amount of studying you could do to pass MY exams!", proclaims Ms. Clivinsky. "I made sure all the English textbooks had false information in them so I could maintain intellectual superiority over these snot-nosed cretins!"

"You...you WHAT?!", you cry, flabbergasted at such a revelation. Ms. Clivinsky suddenly realizes what she revealed. "I have no recollection of what I just said", she states, desperately trying to backtrack.
"You're feeding your students false information so you can remain smarter than them?!", you reiterate, still horrified by this information. How could someone with such little care for the younger generations be hired as a teacher?
"You have no proof that I said that", rebutts Ms. Clivinsky. "Without proof, those statements are just slander meant to make a poor, old woman look bad."

You can't stomach this anymore. You rise from your desk, furious. "I'll be DAMNED if I'm gonna sit here and listen to any lecture from some hag whose entire career is built upon LIES", you declare, ready to storm out of the class.
"You take one step outside that door and I will make sure you NEVER get a passing grade in this school again", threatens the malignant tumor of this school.

Damn it all...can you really not do anything to stop her? She WAS right in that you had no proof beyond the rest of the students as witnesses, but that could easily be thrown out as a bunch of kids ganging up on a teacher they don't like.

As you contemplate sacrificing your grade-point average, the door to the classroom flings open once more. Everyone's eyes are drawn towards the disturbance, gasps of shock tear through the crowd.
Standing in the doorway was Bartleby, his golden locks flowing gallantly in the breeze.
...Where WAS a breeze coming from, anyway? There's no windows nearby.

"Your reign of terrorizing your students is over, Clivinsky", proclaims Bartleby as he enters the room. "Or perhaps, I should use your REAL name...Miss Clivinsteinbergbaumsteinowitzki?"
Miss...your teacher is taken aback by the accusation. "What?!", she hisses stepping back from Bartleby.
After Bartleby entered the classroom, someone dressed in a policeman's uniform came in after him. You couldn't make out his facial features, though, as he was hanging his head low, and his hat covered his eyes.

"You've escaped justice for far too long, Clivinsteinbergbaumsteinowitzki...", says the unknown officer.
"Who the HELL are you?!", quizzes the wrinkled prune.
"You don't know me, but you knew my great-grandfather, back in Berlin", replies the concealed copper. "They said it was suicide, but the reality was, you and your Jew Crew MURDERED him"

"O-OY VEY!", the shambling Semite cries out. "These aryan men are harassing a helpless old Hebrew woman! It's another Shoah!"
The glint in her eyes tells you that she's used this line to get out of trouble before.
"That trick is as dried-out and crusty as your vagina", Bartleby firmly responds. "Besides, you can't make me feel guilty, because my family never owned any black slaves"
"...'Shoah' refers to the Holocaust, not slavery", replies your teacher, who actually isn't much of a teacher, so you're not sure why you keep referring to her as such.
"Oh", Bartleby says. "Well, it still doesn't make me feel bad"

"It's taken eighty years", continues the enigmatic enforcer. "Two whole generations of us hunting down each member of the Jew Crew, and now, finally, it's just you that's left."
The officer steps towards the shrivelled schoolmarm. She takes a good look at the cop before coming to a stunning realization.
"W-wait!", she shouts out in fear. "Y-you couldn't possibly be--"

Before she can finish, the officer pulls out his pistol and shoots her. She feebly clutches her chest before falling dead to the ground in front of everyone.
The policeman then unloads nine more rounds into her corpse.
"...Self-defense. You all saw her come at me with a knife", states the copper.

The classroom erupts in a series of cheers and applause. You have a horrified look frozen on your face. You just watched an old woman be murdered, and you barely understand why.
Bartleby places a reassuring hand on the cop's shoulder. "That was some fine policework, Officer Hitler", Bartleby praises.
"I couldn't have done it without you, Mr. Montclair", replies the cop, tears forming in his eyes. "I'm just glad to finally put the Jew Crew to rest. I wonder what great-grandpa Adolf would think now that it's over"
"He would have been proud", declares Bartleby. "You've done good, today. Go tell your chief that you're taking the rest of the day off, courtesy of Bartleby Montclair of Dresdin"
"Heh. Thanks, Bartleby", retorts Officer Hitler. "I'm gonna need the rest. Tomorrow, the Floyd Family Crime Syndicate's going down"

The policeman exits the classroom. Bartleby turns towards the students in the room. "You're free to do with the corpse as you wish", he states before marching out of the class.
The majority of students proceed to leap from their seats and tear at the woman's corpse like monkeys tearing apart a squirrel. Loud squelching and bones crunching resound through the class.

You really weren't prepared for today.
You look over to see Sonia is back in good spirits. You finally had a question you could ask her.
"Sonia, is every period this...Lively?", you ask, pointing towards the absolute savagery before you. The children have begun stripping Clivins-whatever's carcass like a deer and beating the fleshy parts with the bony parts they break loose.

"Hmm...not always", Sonia replies after some thought. "Sometimes we get out early because of a bomb threat"

...You weren't 100% certain, but you swore you heard something like a 'pop' in your head.
END CHAPTER 22
Chapter 23 - Dope On A Rope

With the English teacher thoroughly slain, and the children's bloodthirst slaked, everyone in class decided to treat the rest of the period as free time.
Most chose to scroll through their tiktok feeds on their phones, some took selfies with Clivinsky's tattered remains, but you and Sonia decided to just chat for a few minutes.
"Hey, what's your schedule look like?", Sonia asked you. "Maybe we share some more classes!"
You proceed to pull out your schedule from your backpack and hand it over to her. She pores over your document for a few moments.

"Oh, cool!", she exclaims. "We share Gym class! Lunch, too!"
Her enthusiasm fades as she goes down the list, however. "Aww. We don't see each other after lunch", Sonia gripes. "That's a bit of a bummer"
That DOES suck. Sonia's pretty much the only person here you can rely on to not kill you or treat you like dog shit.
"...Well, we still ride the same bus", you say, trying to cheer up your friend. "Besides, they say 'absence makes the heart grow fonder', or something like that"

Sonia perks up a bit. "I guess that's true", she remarks. "At least gym will be fun! We share that with my brothers, Mindy, and Bartleby, too!"
Well, that's neat. You can't say it makes you any more excited to go to gym class, but at least there'll be people to talk to/suffer with.

You and Sonia spend the rest of the period shooting the shit. You also try to teach her a few things about English, but you fear none of it sticks without the skittles game to reinforce the lesson.
All too soon, the bell rings, and second period comes to an end. You step over the messy corpse of your once-teacher and return to your locker on the first floor.
Fortunately, you didn't run into Knuckles on the way. You replace your math and english textbooks with your history book and gym clothes. Following that, you head to room 109.

Ironically, nothing of note happens in History class. The only thing you learned was that your teacher, Mr. Rupert, was about as engaging as a bundle of wet newspapers.
It didn't help that his curriculum was more shit you already learned in Elementary school. Yeah, Grover Cleveland WAS the only president to serve two nonconsecutive terms. Whoop-de-fuckin'-doo.
You praise whatever deity caused the bell to ring, signalling the end of third period. Although, maybe that praise is a bit premature. Gym was next, but first, you had to stop by the teacher's lounge.

You quickly dash out of history class and book it to the nearest flight of stairs. Climbing up to the second floor, you had to now dodge the waves of traffic filling the hallways until you finally reach your destination.
The black plackard next to a simple wooden door reads 'Teacher's Lounge'. You approach the door and knock on it a few times, hoping Mr. Stevens would answer. The door creaks ajar after a few seconds.
An unfamiliar teacher then appears from behind it. A middle aged-blonde-haired man, wearing it in a high ponytail eyes you up suspiciously.
"Can I help you?", asks the unknown teacher.
"Uh, hi, is Mr. Stevens here?", you ask in response. "I need to see him about an assignment".

The man before you looks back into the teacher's lounge and calls out "Hey, Stevens, some faggot student of yours is here to see you"
That's just rude.
A few moments later, Mr. Stevens comes to the doorway.
"Oh, thank you, Brian", says Mr. Stevens. 'Brian' begins to walk away from the door, when suddenly, your math teacher stops him.

"Uhm, b-before you go", Stevens stammers, "W-would it be too much trouble to ask..."
Stevens trails off for some odd reason. He seems quite bashful about this request.
'Brian' rolls his eyes. "Ugh. Fine", he grunts. "Open your mouth"
Wait, what.

Mr. Stevens opens his mouth wide and sticks out his tongue.
'Brian' then hawks a loogie right into Mr. Steven's mouth before walking back into the lounge.
The sight of this disgusting act causes you to wretch and look away, uttering a mortified "Oh God"
Stevens swirls the spittle around in his mouth for a bit, moaning sensually. He then swallows loudly.
No therapist on Earth could repair what damage this school's done to your psyche over the last week.

"Oh, excuse me, Anon", Mr. Stevens apologizes. "I was just, uhm, getting a drink"
"YEAH, I SEE THAT", you loudly state, refusing to look at your perverted teacher. "C-can I PLEASE just get my assignment so I can go?", you ask, hoping to finish this awkward encounter as soon as you can.
Stevens reaches for a worksheet, and promptly hands it to you. "Page 17, problems 20 through 39", he then instructs.
"Uh, thanks", you mumble, still refusing to maintain eye contact with the masochist before you.
"I gotta go. Coach Johnson's gonna be pissed if I'm--", you start to declare, before Mr. Stevens interrupts you.

"C-coach Johnson?!", cries the cowardly preceptor. "Your fourth period class is GYM?! Why didn't you TELL me, lad?!"
"I-I only found out after I left your class!", you frantically respond.
"For God's sakes, GO, Anon!", shrieks Mr. Stevens, pointing towards the stairway you came from. "I might want him to step on my balls, but YOU don't deserve what will happen if you're late for his class!"
You desperately nod your head as you charge away to the gym, ignoring Mr. Stevens' odd remark.

You were running out of time. The gym was clear on the west side of the school's first floor, and you were in the east wing of the second.
Fortunately, the trip back downstairs was much less crowded, as the majority of the other students had already filed into their classes at this point.
The soles of your shoes squeak on the tile floor as you beat your way through the labyrinthian corridors.
Finally, before you is a set of metal double doors leading to the gymnasium. You loudly burst through them, unsure of how much time you had left before you were tardy.

The bell rings out immediately as you enter. You made it by the skin of your teeth.
You glance around your surroundings. You entered from the bottom left corner of the gym. Bleachers line the wall opposite from you.
To your right, at the furthest end of the gym, are entrances to the locker rooms.
Other than that, nothing else stands out. It's a high school gymnasium. Basketball hoops, wooden floor, if you've seen one, you've seen them all.

Your attention is drawn to the center of the gym, where a few students seem to be waiting in uniform in front of a man in unusually high-riding red shorts. Or are those hot pants?
Whatever, that's probably Coach Johnson. You hustle over towards him, panting and sweating after your mad dash. "I'm here! I'm not tardy!", you wheeze out loud, grabbing the teacher's attention.
Coach Johnson was wearing some sort of red baseball cap and white wife-beater. A silver whistle dangles from his neck on a chain, and he's holding a clipboard and pen in his hands.

"Name?", calls out the coach as he readies his clipboard.
"A-Anon, sir", you reply, saluting him as if on reflex.
"Put that fucking hand down, son", orders Johnson. "You're not in the Corps yet"
You hastily apologize and place your hand at your side, yet still you stand at attention.

"Seems you've been absent these last couple days", Johnson remarks. "You got any sort of explanation for that, pee-wee?", he then asks, shooting you a suspicious glare.
"U-uhm, I-I was sick, sir", you nervously stutter out. "W-with B-Bartleby Montclair P-Proximi--"
"YES, I'D ALREADY HEARD", Johnson suddenly barks out. His loud voice echoes through the gymnasium, causing everyone else to flinch.
"I received a note from that fat nurse HAG earlier today regarding your situation", Johnson explains. "It made for the SHITTIEST excuse for toilet paper! ROUGH! SCRATCHY! AND ALREADY COATED IN BULLSHIT!"

Oh lord. This guy was just as nuts as the rest of the faculty here.
"I do NOT want to hear your excuses!", shouts the increasingly red-faced coach. "TOMMY over there came down with BMPS, and he STILL comes to class every day!", he says, pointing towards a familiar quadriplegic child.
"H-hey Tommy", you meekly greet, waving at the crippled student. Tommy responds by flailing his arms and loudly gurgling out a "NYAAAAAAGhGhH".
Coach Johnson glares at you. "W-we share math class", you justify, shrugging.
"I DID NOT ASK FOR YOUR LIFE STORY!!", screams Johnson, as he furiously points at the boy's locker room. "GET IN UNIFORM, SOLDIER! MOVE IT, MOVE IT, MOVE!!!"

You hastily scramble towards the direction he commands you to go. As you reach your goal, you spot several familiar faces exiting from the locker rooms.
Manic, Sonic, and Bartleby are all coming out, dressed in a simple white t-shirt, black shorts ensemble. Sonic's outfit seems to only barely fit him, as his shirt is bunched up around his nipples, leaving his massive gut exposed.
"Hey, Anon, you made it!", Manic remarks as he pats you on the back in passing.
You really can't get a read on Manic. One minute, you're good friends, the next, you're a pile of shit in his eyes.

Whatever, no time for that. You had to get changed. You stumble around the locker room, avoiding eye contact with anyone's genitals, before finding an empty locker to call your own.
Number 63. Good enough. Far away from anyone's lustful gaze. You fish out your uniform from your backpack, strip down to your underwear, and quickly get dressed for class.
You then stuff all of your belongings in your locker, close it, and pray no one steals anything from there before heading out to the gym once more.

It seems pretty much everyone has lined up around Coach Johnson. You notice that there's a rope dangling besides him hanging from the rafters.
You then spot some movement in your periphery. Sonia is excitedly waving at you, beckoning you to join her. You jog in her direction and stand beside her. She beams her adorable smile at you once again.
You return her smile, before someone runs their finger up your back, sending a chill up your spine.
You shift your eyes towards the source of the touching and spot Mindy in an ill-fitting uniform. Her breasts are barely held back by her cut-off shirt.
"I love a guy in uniform", she whispers to you, practically right inside your ear.
"H-h-hi, Mindy", you awkwardly greet, almost forcing a laugh.

"CAN THE CHATTER, LADIES!", bellows the coach. Everyone's eyes lock onto Coach Johnson as he presents the nearby rope.
"As you can see here, THIS...is a rope!", he shouts. "If you will point your FAT-ASSED heads upwards, YOU will see an orange flag tied to the END of this rope!"
You look up and, in fact, see said flag. Just barely, though. You try to measure just how high up it is from the floor.
Let's see...Coach Johnson looks like he's about six feet tall...stack him up on his shoulders...and...Holy shit.
HOLY SHIT, IT'S LIKE THIRTY FEET OFF THE GROUND! IS THIS NUTJOB SERIOUS?! WHY ISN'T THERE A FUCKING FLOOR MAT OUT TO CUSHION ANYONE'S FALL?!

"Attached to this flag is a BELL!", continues Coach Johnson. "When you have REACHED the flag, wiggle it to RING the bell, CLIMB back down, and get OUT of the way for the NEXT student!"
Bartleby eagerly steps forward. "Ah ha ha", he chortles. "Allow me to go first, coach, to demonstrate how easy this task is"
"That is a NEGATORY, Mr. Montclair", declares the drill sergeant. Bartleby is taken aback by this revelation.
"But...but, why?", asks the richest, sexiest man alive.
"Mr. Montclair, if you tug on that rope, the whole damned roof is going to collapse on us", explains the coach. "This school district CANNOT handle any more lawsuits. You are hereby EXEMPT from today's exercise"

"I...I see.", Bartleby somberly states. He balls his hands into fists. "Oh, woe is me. Why must I be cursed with such overwhelming amounts of strength, and beauty, and wealth, and fame, and kindness?", he ponders aloud.
"Don't despair, Mr. Montclair", reassures Mr. Johnson. "You aren't the only one sitting out the rope climb today"
Johnson shoots an irritated look towards Sonic. "Isn't that right, CHUNKUMS?"
"H-huh?" asks Sonic, confused by the accusatory proclamation.

"Hedgehog, you look at that rope and tell me with a straight face that it could withstand your 900-pound ASS dangling from it like a big blue DINGLEBERRY", shouts the coach.
"I...I was 812, when I last weighed myself...", Sonic bashfully retorts.
"I'm sure you were, FOUR YEARS AGO", mocks Johnson. "HEDGEHOG, you're a FUCKING FATASS, and that is WHY you will be spending the next forty-five minutes GETTING YOUR ANUS GAPED BY YOUR BOYFRIEND IN THE LOCKER ROOM", he then proclaims.
"BARTLEBY!", Johnson calls out, "TAKE THIS FAT TUB OF SHIT AND SHOW HIM WHAT I'D DO TO HIM, IF HE WEREN'T CURRENTLY IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH YOU!!"

Bartleby's mood has lifted significantly. "Ah ha ha he ha", he laughs. "Well, I suppose I can follow that order"
Bartleby drapes his massive, muscley arm around Sonic's shoulder. "Come, my bitch", he orders, "let's go get a REAL workout in"
"B-but Bartleby, I--", Sonic begins to say, before Bartleby slugs him in the face with a nasty right jab, knocking him to the ground.
"DID I GIVE YOU PERMISSION TO SPEAK?!", Bartleby furiously asks. Sonic attempts to crawl away, but Bartleby grips him by his stumpy legs and launches him towards the boy's locker room.
Sonic lets out a blood-curdling scream as he hurtles through the air before landing near the entrance to the locker room. As he attempts to rise to his feet, Bartleby charges towards him and launches a savage haymaker, knocking Sonic down once more.
Bartleby then grips Sonic by his legs again, this time trying to drag him deeper into the locker room. Sonic desperately grabs onto the doorway. "Bartleby, my lover, please don't!", the blue bowling ball desperately pleads.
"Shut up, bitch!", Bartleby grunts with a strand of his golden hair stuck in his teeth. "Just let this happen! I NEED TO VENT MY FRUSTRATIONS!"
Sonic loses his grip and is dragged out of view, screaming bloody murder as various impact noises ring out from the room.

...You can't help but want what they have.

"AS FOR THE REST OF YOU MAGGOTS", shouts Coach Johnson, grabbing your attention, "YOU WILL NOT BE SO LUCKY!"
"We've already wasted enough time, so let's just get into it!", Johnson rapidly announces.
"SCRAWNYYYYYY!", Johnson loudly calls out. The call echoes through the gym.

Nobody steps forward.
You glance around a bit, wondering if someone was distracted by something.

Wait.

Was he referring to you?

Are you 'Scrawny'?

Were you pissing him off even more by not immediately responding to him calling you by that nickname?

Unsure, you meekly step forward and raise your hand.
"U-uhm...sir? Am I...'Scrawny'?", you timidly ask.
"YOU ARE NOW! GET OVER HERE!", Johnson replies.

God...dammit.

You approach the rope before you. Somehow, the flag seems even further away from this angle than before. Apprehension has dug its talons deep into you.
You grip the rope and begin your ascent.

Oh holy mother of GOD, how do you have ZERO upper body strength?
You wriggle and struggle, you sweat and curse, and you inch your way up towards the tangerine-colored flag.
You dared not look down, either because you'd be either way too high up to survive a fall, or so close to the ground that you'd disappoint yourself into depression.
Eventually, you miraculously are within arm's reach of your goal. You stretch out your right arm, only centimeters away. With one more pull of your left arm, you manage to reach the flag, wiggling it frantically to signal your victory.
The tinny bell tinkles the most satisfying tune you've heard all day. You hear a few students below cheering at your accomplishment.

Now you just had to make it back dooooooOOOOOHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOLY FUCK THAT'S A LONG DROP.
You fiercely clutch to the rope out of fear. After a few moments, you realize that if you DON'T move, you're definitely going to fall to your death at some point.
You now begin to slowly, SLOWLY, descend. Bring one hand down, grip, and then bring the other down below that. You repeat this process at a sluggish pace.
However, before you reach the bottom, the sweat from your hands causes your grip to suddenly slide down several feet.
The friction from the rope burns your palms, and, instinctively, you let go of the rope.

No.
NONONONOFUCK

...Have you ever heard the sound of a basketball being bounced really, REALLY hard in an empty auditorium or something? That really loud, reverberating POOHM sound?
That's approximately the sound you make when you land flat on your back from a height of about six feet.

You lay sprawled out on the buffed wooden floor, weakly moaning in pain. By some stroke of luck, you didn't break any bones, but your back was screaming at you for what you've just put it through.
Coach Johnson begins marking something down on his clipboard.
"Six minutes, forty-six seconds", he states. "Fucking dreadful"
Being too weak to tell him to fuck off, you groan in pain instead.
"Walk it off, sunshine, take a lap", Johnson callously orders.

Step one: acquire gun. Legal means or otherwise.
Step two: bring it to school. A pistol can certainly be concealed in a lunchbox.
Step three: KILL COACH JOHNSON. AND ANYONE ELSE WHO CROSSES YOU.

Sonia and Manic appear above you. "You okay, Anon?", asks Sonia with concern.
...You're gonna have to worm "Warn Sonia beforehand" into your plan somewhere.

"Eh...I've survived worse, you know", you weakly report. "...like, when I almost died. This is DEFINITELY a close second, though."
"Heheheheheh", Manic chuckles to himself, pointing at you. "You fell", he simply states.
Being too weak to tell Manic to fuck off, you simply shoot him a glare of disgust instead.

"Well, I'm just TICKLED PINK you found that so amusing, Manic", declares your sadistic coach, "'CAUSE YOUR GRASSY ASS IS GOING UP THERE NEXT"
"Ugh, maaaaaan", whines Manic as he approaches the rope of terror. "QUIT YOUR GRIPING AND GET UP THERE!", shouts Johnson.
"Jawohl, Coach Jarhead", Manic sardonically replies, giving a Roman salute.
"ONE MORE REMARK LIKE THAT, HEDGEHOG, SO HELP ME GOD, YOU WON'T HAVE ENOUGH ROOM FOR LUNCH AFTER WHAT I'M GONNA CRAM DOWN YOUR THROAT!!!", blusters the coach, his face turning crimson from rage.

Manic rolls his eyes and begins climbing. In the meantime, Sonia has helped you to your feet once more.
"Thanks, Sonia", you tell her. "Seems you're always peeling me off the floor."
"No prob, Anon", Sonia reassures you. "You'd do the same for me, right?"
"Heh. If you're ever in that situation, gladly", you reply. The two of you begin walking around the perimeter of the gym. Hopefully this counts as 'taking a lap', you're not about to start jogging like this.

After a minute or so, you hear Manic ring the bell at the top of the rope. He then quickly clambers back down the rope and reaches the floor.
Coach Johnson marks down Manic's time. "Three minutes, four seconds", he remarks. "The second worst time of the day so far. Take a damned lap, you disgust me"
Manic gives a half-hearted salute and begins jogging around the gym, before reaching your position and meeting your slower pace.

"HEDGEHOG, SONIA!", Johnson yells out. Sonia perks up. "Shoot, I'm up! Keep an eye on Anon, Manic", Sonia chirps before dashing off.
"I can see why everyone here fears Coach Johnson", you comment to Sonia's green brother. "The guy's a complete monster"
"Eh, he's not so bad", replies the verdant hedgehog, "just don't be late for his class, don't fuck around, and don't be weak, and you're golden in his eyes"

You suddenly hear the tinkling bell of the rope ringing out. What the fuck, Sonia left, like twelve seconds ago, she already made it up to the top?
Sonia rapidly climbs down and reaches the bottom in no time flat.
"How was that, coach?", asks the pink Mobian, worn out from the exercise.
"After a few adjustments...", mutters the coach. "FIFTEEN MINUTES, TWENTY-SIX SECONDS! GOD! DAMN IT!", he suddenly shouts, tossing his hat to the ground in disgust.

FUCKING WHAT?! That's BULLSHIT! She just blew through everyone's record like it was nothing!
You stop in your tracks and voice your concerns.
"Where the FUCK are you getting FIFTEEN FUCKING MINUTES from?!", you cry out. Johnson glares at you.
"YOU failed to account for the FIVE minutes it takes for a woman to make a sammich, and the TEN minutes it takes to iron a man's CLOTHES!", bellows the sadistic bastard.
"DON'T YOU FUCKING QUESTION MY METHODS, SCRAWNY", he continues shouting, "OR, SO HELP ME, YOU WILL BE THE OWNER OF A BRAND-SPANKING-NEW MUDHOLE, COURTESY OF MY FUCKING STEEL-TOED BOOTS!!!"

"FORTUNATELY,", he goes on, "due to our DEPRESSINGLY lowered standards for WOMEN, I am OBLIGATED to PASS such a terrible performance! By technical standards, she did fantastic for a fucking GIRL!"
"BARBIE! LAP!", he beckons to Sonia, who happily complies. She briskly jogs around the gym until once again reaching your position and slowing to your crawl.

"Thanks for trying to stand up for me, Anon", Sonia whispers as she rejoins you.
"Didn't take you for one of those male feminist types", Manic grumbles.
"I'm NOT, I just think the way he treats Sonia when she did great was total bullshit", you reply.
"Why are you upset?", queries Sonia. "He said that I did great for being a girl"
"Sonia, you did great, PERIOD", you respond. "You blew both me and Manic out of the water. You should be proud of your accomplishments"
Sonia starts to blush and shyly looks away, clasping her hands together.

"How the hell did you even do so well, anyway?", you quiz.
"Well, we used to be Freedom Fighters back on Mobius", Sonia answers. "We had to do shit like that when we were, like, ten"
"So, how come Manic took six times as long as you to do that?", you ponder. Manic lets out an offended "HEY"
"'cuz Manic's fat and useless", replies Sonia, before giggling. Manic lets out an even louder "HEY!" while you two laugh at him.
"Last I checked, I whooped YOUR sorry ass record!", Manic shouts.
"...Okay, fair enough", you concede, rubbing the back of your neck in shame.

"Coach", calls out Mindy, "when's it gonna be MY turn to climb that THICK rope?", asks the buxom vixen.
"LATOUR", Johnson shouts, "the SECOND you start climbing, that damn rope's gonna be COVERED in your boob sweat! You're going LAST!"
"Three minutes, FIFTY-SEVEN seconds!", he declares, before ordering the previous student to run a lap. "TOMMY! GET YOUR ASS UP THERE!"
Tommy goes "GAAARAAGHGHGAAGAHGRHG" in response.
"DON'T YOU FUCKING SASS ME, HOT WHEELS!" furiously cries Coach Johnson.

The rest of the period basically went on in this fashion, Coach Johnson screaming out student names, the students climb the rope, do decently enough, the coach berates them anyway before ordering them to run a lap.
Things only got interesting when Mindy finally took the challenge and wound up performing some sort of mix between a Cirque du Soleil act and poledancing routine.
Johnson was fucking pissed, but it was pretty funny watching her respond by attempting to tease him sexually. You could see the veins bulging out of his skull near the end of the period.

You had the third worst time out of all the students, not counting Sonia, only barely beating out Tommy and Mindy.
This was your wakeup call, you need to do some fucking push-ups every once in a while.
END CHAPTER 23
Chapter 24 - By The Razor's Edge

You manage to pry your belongings from locker 63 of the now completely fucking wrecked boy's locker room.
It seems Bartleby had a lot of fun battering Sonic around in here, as most of the lockers were damaged beyond repair, as were the shower heads and urinals.

Now back in your casual clothes, you exit the locker room, and prepare to head to the lunchroom in the far east section of the first floor.
Sonia, Mindy, Manic, Sonic and Bartleby are all gathered together near the exit to the gymnasium. Sonia happily waves you over.
Bartleby is cradling a bloody, bruised Sonic in his arms like a baby.
"Oh, my bitch, Daddy is sorry", Bartleby sorrowfully apologizes to his lover. "I guess I got a little carried away back there. I was just so frustrated and--"
Sonic interrupts Bartleby's apology by placing his broken hand upon his golden lover's mouth.

"Bartleby, my lover, I'll endure any pain you throw at m--", he begins to say, before once again being stricken by one of Bartleby's powerful punches, knocking out several teeth.
"WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT SPEAKING OUT OF TURN, BITCH?!?", the richest man alive angrily shouts.
"As I was saying", Bartleby continues, seemingly returning to his calmer self, "for surviving my wrath for forty-five minutes, I'm going to give you the most luxurious lunch you've ever had, catered by the single greatest Mexican restaurant on Earth: Taco Bell."
Sonic's bloodshot eyes tear up at the generosity. "Oh...oh Bartleby", Sonic moans, before nuzzling into Bartleby's pecs.
"Ah ha ha", Bartleby laughs. "I knew that'd cheer you up, bitch".

Bartleby then turns to the rest of the group. "Sniff you farts later", he callously states before princess-carrying Sonic away down the hall. Only Bartleby could carry that load so easily.
"You know", Manic says to Mindy, "that little dance on the rope you did just for me really riled me up, slut."
"Oh Manic", Mindy replies in her usual sultry fashion, "It's so cute that you think that", she goes on, pinching his chubby cheek.
"Well, you're always calling me CUTE", he responds, loudly slapping her ass as the last word comes out. Mindy lets out a surprised whoop at the sudden spank.
"Alright, we're headed to the cafeteria", Manic announces. "See you guys there"
As the two of them leave, Mindy silently blows you a kiss.
...Why is she flirting with you?

"I gotta stop by my locker for something, is that okay?", Sonia asks you, as if your input matters.
"Um, that's fine", you reply. "I gotta stop by mine anyway, so we can just meet up later."
"Okay", responds the pink Mobian. "I'll see you at the lunchroom, then."
She then dashes off towards the east wing of the school. You head back towards locker 217, deeper down the hall you're standing in.
When you make it there, you unload your unnecessary stuff from the last two periods and load up your art supplies, and your science and literature textbooks.

As you finish your work and get ready for some prison-tier cafeteria grub, a strangely familiar voice calls out.
"HEY! A NERD!", the voice angrily bellows.
You glance up, and see Rufio from first period stomping up towards you.
...Why did he call you 'a nerd', instead of just 'nerd'? That doesn't make any sense.
...Oooooohhhhh, wait, he wasn't calling you a nerd, he was calling you A-Nerd, like a portmanteau of 'Anon' and 'Nerd'.
It's not very clever, though. It's kinda clunky. A better insult would have been 'Ass-non' or something along those lines. Something that keeps the second syllable of your name intact. That's what's most identifiable.

As you internally ponder the best ways of insulting yourself, you fail to notice Rufio has approached you and is now grabbing you by the collar of your shirt and slamming you into your locker.
Your back aches in pain horribly, still bruised from your fall during gym. You're gonna be sleeping on a block of ice for a week at this rate.
"W-what the fuck, man?!", you shout, hoping for some explanation for Rufio's aggressive behavior.
"You got some BALLS, A-Nerd", Rufio hisses. "You know how bad you're making us look when you act all smart?"
"I...answered one simple question in math", you hesitantly retort, confused by Rufio's fury. Seriously, five plus six is something a fucking preschooler could answer right.
There was a crowd growing around the two of you. Many kids have pulled out their phones, hoping to record a bloodbath.

"Oh, most kids here already know that the curriculum's super fucking easy", reveals the swarthy hoodlum. "But the fucking TEACHERS don't know that we know!"
"Wait, so everyone here's just ACTING like they're retarded so they can get out of harder schoolwork?", you piece together.
"No, Anon", Rufio responds. "A lot of us NEVER want to leave high school, so we act stupid to get held back as much as possible"
"W-what?", you ask, confounded by this revelation. "Why would you never want to leave high school? This place sucks!"
"Let's face it, Anon", says Rufio, "for a lot of people, high school's the best time of their life. Everyone in on the scheme KNOWS life goes downhill from here. So, we're not gonna LEAVE here."
"Th-that's insane", you utter. Rufio responds to this by brandishing a fucking switchblade.

"NO! No, it isn't!", Rufio mutters with a deranged look in his eyes. His breathing has become haggard, like he's about to snap at any moment.
"...How 'bout we make your 'four-eyes' three, A-Nerd?", Rufio whispers as he slowly waves his knife before you. His right eye has a twitch.
"...I'm not wearing glasses", you flatly reply. "'Four-eyes' is only an insult to people with glasses"
"DON'T FUCKING SASS ME", Rufio barks, pressing the knife against your cheek. Its blade is cold.

As the realization that you're probably going to be seriously wounded or killed sets in, you hear a deep voice call out from the crowd.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing, Rufio", a familiar red figure coldly asks as he marches from the audience.

Aww, Knuck, it's Fuckles!

...wait.

Rufio is immediately taken aback by the sudden appearance of the echidna and releases his grip on you, causing you to drop to the floor.
"Kn-nuh-nuh-nuh-nununuhh-KNUCKLES!", the ruffian anxiously stammers, stepping back. "Haaa-heyyyy! H-ha-how's it goin', bro?", he asks, nervously laughing.
"I asked you a question, RUFIO", Knuckles firmly states. "And I'm NOT your bro."
"Ruh-right!", Rufio answers, still anxious. "Uhm, I-I-I was just, uh, takin' care of this, uh, fuckin' NERD here, y'know? Hahaheh", he chortles, pointing to you.
Knuckles looks right at you. "...Really?", he states, before glaring at Rufio once more. "You're trying to poach MY mark?"

"Yuh...your mark?", Rufio peeps. "Oh. Uhm. I'm...sorry, Knux, uh...I-I-I didn't, uhm..."
"Of course you didn't know", Knuckles interrupts. "Because nobody who knows who I am bothers talking to you. Because you're NOT fucking cool, Rufio"
"Ah...c...come on, man", Rufio replies, holding back tears. "D...don't say that! I...I can be a real big help to you! I-I was just softenin' this turd up for ya, really!"
As the last words come out of Rufio's mouth, Knuckles grabs Rufio by his shirt and pulls him down to his eye level. Knuckles was livid.
"You think I NEED a shithead like you to soften my targets for me?!", Knuckles snarls. Rufio was completely lost.

"Ah...nuh...I didn't...I didn't mean it, Kn-Knux", he tearfully pleads. "I...I was just kiddin'..."
Ohhh, fuck, dude, BAD call.

Knuckles immediately responds to this blatant disrespect by delivering a terrific gut punch to Rufio. The impact lifts Rufio off the ground for a second.
Rufio immediately vomits up blood. Knuckles lets go of Rufio's shirt, allowing him to attempt to crawl on all fours for about a foot and a half.
Rufio looks up at you with a face begging for mercy. "p-please help m--", he pleads, before Knuckles kicks him in his jaw, sending his face through the bottom of a nearby locker.
Rufio's body lies motionless. You can only mutter a "Holy shit..." under your breath. Your gaze returns to your crimson 'savior'.

"You got my money yet, BITCH?", Knuckles asks you, with the same cold glare he had when he first approached.
Thinking quickly, you dive towards Rufio's (probably) lifeless corpse and begin patting down his pants. He had to have something here you can use.
You feel his wallet in his back pocket and you immediately fish it out.

...He had a velcro wallet?

You were being intimidated by a punk with a fucking Little Einsteins VELCRO WALLET?

...You had no time to feel disgusted with yourself. You pry open the billfold and spot a picture of Andrew Jackson staring back at you.
You never thought you'd be happier seeing the face of the man who hated Indians almost as much as you do.
You snatch the twenty dollar bill out and frantically hand it towards Knuckles.

"HERE, TWENTY BUCKS", you quickly offer. Knuckles eyes you up for a moment before grabbing the bill from your hands.
"...quick thinking, Anon.", remarks the echidna, stuffing the legal tender in his front pocket. "I like that. Maybe you and me CAN be friends, after all"

...Yay?

"ANON!", calls out a certain pink hedgehog from the now-dispersing crowd.
Sonia rushes up to you and immediately gives you a big hug. You keep your hands as far from her as possible, making sure Knuckles can still see them from where he's standing.
"Oh my god, Anon, I'm so glad you're okay!", Sonia cries, burying her face into your chest. Oh dear lord, you're turning redder than Knuckles right now.
"I was so scared, Anon", weeps the normally cheery hedgehog. "When I was heading to my locker, I heard someone call out 'A Nerd', and I instantly thought of you"
...that's...kinda hurtful, actually. Well, she was right, but still...

"So, I ran back to where you were and saw a big crowd gathering,", Sonia goes on, "and I spotted you being held up by that big guy in the denim vest"
"I wanted to help you, but I couldn't push past the crowd, and I started freaking out", blubbers the poor pink girl before you. "then Knuckles showed up and I pointed him towards you and I couldn't stop crying and..."
Sonia's speech trails off into incoherent crying and sobbing. Jesus, she was really worried about you. It...feels kinda nice, knowing someone cares about you this much.
You finally put your hands on Sonia's shoulders to try and push her away from you for a bit so you can look her in the eyes.

"Hey, hey, it's OKAY, Sonia", you reassure her. "I'm not hurt, see? Everything turned out just fine"
Sonia sniffles and tries wiping away her tears. "Yeah...", she whimpers. "...and...I guess it's all 'cause of Knuckles, huh?", she asks.
Aw, fuck, it IS all because of Knuckles.

"Y-yeah, heh, I uh, I guess I owe him one, huh?", you say.
Oooooohhhh, WHY did you fucking SAY that? Knuckles gets this mischievous smirk on his face the moment those cursed words leave your mouth.
"Alright, enough crying like little fucking babies", Knuckles orders. Sonia finally stops crying as the two of you stand up. "C'mon, let's go get some lunch, bitch", he then declares.
"You too, Sonia", he then remarks.

...goddammit.
END CHAPTER 24
Chapter 25 - Collecting Debts

Knuckles, Sonia, and you proceed to the cafeteria together. As you head through the double doors, you're greeted by an absolute melee of a crowd bustling about.
It's hard to tell where you're supposed to go to get food in here.
At least, until you spot the absolutely fuckhuge line near the left side of the area, leading into the slophouse.

There's a sign nearby the line, with a note taped to it, reading the following:

TODAYS SPECIAL:
TACO THRUSDAY

VEGAN OPTION:
TATER TOTS

Yes, they misspelled 'Thursday'. They also forgot an apostrophe. And WHY did they choose Comic Sans as their font?
You can see why the employees here chose Lunch Lady as their profession over Teacher.
Of course, considering the faculty you've come across all day today, they'd probably fit right in, regardless.

Well, there's no sense complaining about it, they don't need to be geniuses to slop some ground beef-like substance onto a styrofoam tray.
You, Sonia and Knuckles find your place in line and begin slowly lurching ahead with the rest of the student body.
Sonia prattles on at Knuckles, who shows absolutely zero interest in what she's saying.
As you enter the slop house proper, you examine your surroundings.

There were actually several serving areas, making the set-up like a buffet, though there were some people manning the stations instead of just letting kids grab what they want.
Not a bad call, considering the hygiene of the average student here would probably lead to massive increases in Typhus for the county.
The largest serving area was where the "special of the day" was served. Tacos, specifically. Although, these "tacos" were just a scoop of ground beef drizzled with shredded lettuce and cheese. There wasn't even a tortilla.
Though they did offer a small bag of plain Fritos as a side. Close enough, probably.
The other areas seemed to serve very basic replacements for kids that didn't want the special, but nothing in particular caught your eye as appetizing. You grab a nearby tray and hop in the taco line, waiting to be served.

You spot Knuckles making a beeline towards some freezers off in the corner. He proceeds to pile a number of ice cream bars onto his tray, chuckling to himself.
"Knuckles the Cool Echidna's eating like a fucking KING today", he says outloud, before entering the checkout line.
Sonia, having retrieved her meal, follows suit.
When it's finally time to get your food, some hag behind the counter slops the beef haphazardly onto your foam tray. To think, THIS was the most appetizing option here.

You head into the checkout line like the others before you. Realizing you're gonna have to pay for your food, you fish your wallet out of your pocket to get your money ready.

A single picture of George Washington stares back at you. Yet again.

...Aw, fuck. You haven't gotten your allowance yet.

The hag at the checkout eyes you suspiciously as you nervously glance between her and your nearly empty wallet.
You sheepishly pull out your single dollar and ask, "what can I get for one dollar?"
"You can get out of line", the lunchlady flatly replies.
...Yeah, that's fair. You abandon your lunch and sullenly head towards the eating area of the cafeteria. You spot Sonia giddily waving you over to a table where she and the others are sitting.

Sonia's expression quickly turns from cheery to concerned. "What's the matter, Anon?", she asks, "Not feeling hungry?"
"No, but I'm flat broke", you respond, despondently. "Can't buy any food without money."
Sonia's face then becomes shocked, before turning into one of resolve. She rises out of her seat and presents her tray of food to you.

"Here, Anon, you can have mine", she offers. "I'll go back into line to get another tray"
"Sonia, no, I'm not gonna take your food", you quickly decline. After everything this girl's done for you, you'd feel like a shitty leech if you kept taking her kindness without giving anything in return.
"It's okay, Anon", justifies the pep-filled Mobian as she leaves her seat. "Since we're poor, the government pays for our lunches!"
Sonia quickly runs off to get back into line. You're gonna have to think about how you can repay her at some point.

You take a seat at the table and slide Sonia's tray closer to you. You're about to dig into your donated food when you hear a series of loud, wet smacks coming from beside you.
Glancing over at the disturbance, you spot Manic and Mindy heavily making out right next to you. Before you can be too mortified to divert your attention away from them, you spot ground beef chunks wedged between the two lovers' tongues.
Well, so much for your appetite. And your chance at friendly conversation.
All you were left with was Knuckles, who was happily munching away at his veritable mountain of ice cream bars, bought by his ill-gotten gains, that YOU got for him.

Even so, you two might actually be on better terms than this morning, right?
What harm is there in trying to strike up a conversation?
Although, now that the idea's entered your head, you find yourself struggling to think of an icebreaker to get started.
As the gears in your head grind while thinking of a topic, Knuckles actually starts to speak.

"So, about you owing me for saving your life...", the Echidna begins, with his mouth full.
Ah. Right. THAT.
You sigh, frustrated at yet another debt you need to pay off. "Alright, I'm gonna lay down some ground rules about that", you start.
"I'm not gonna help you shake down any other kids for cash, and I'm not hurting or killing anyone else on your behalf either", you ramble. Knuckles remains silent.
"Also, I'm not gonna do anything involving sex work, genitals, butts or anything related to excrement", you add, hoping to cover any depraved and disgusting bases for his no doubt torturous intentions.

"You know, you're making an awful lot of demands for a guy who owes someone their LIFE", Knuckles finally responds.
"My life ain't worth that much", you riposte. Knuckles smirks a bit.
"Fair", states the crimson terror beside you. "Wasn't gonna make you do any shit like that anyways."
A pleasant surprise. Still, better to be safe than sorry.

"Rufio was talking about how you're a fucking nerd, though", Knuckles continues.
"I've...heard that term lobbed at me a few times", you hesitantly admit.
"Then it should be no problem to do my homework for me for two months, right?", the Echidna finally reveals his offer.

Two months of doing Knuckles' homework for him? Normally, that'd be a tall order, but considering the difficulty of the curriculum in general, it shouldn't be a problem for you.
Having to endure it for two months is gonna suck, but you'll manage.
"Alright, deal", you acquiesce. As soon as your negotiations finish, Manic and Mindy finally untie their tongues, each gasping for air after making out like frenzied monkeys.

"Sorry about that, lust took over for a minute", Manic informs the table before glancing around. "What'd I miss?"
"Nothing, don't worry about it", Knuckles responds before returning to his increasingly sloppy ice cream. Manic then digs back into his 'taco'.
As you're about to start chowing down yourself, you spot Sonia coming back towards the table, though she seems downtrodden compared to earlier.
When she gets close and sets down her tray, you see it's full of tater tots and immediately figure out what happened.

"They were all out of tacos", Sonia pouts. "I got stuck with the shitty vegan menu."
Yep. You were afraid this would happen.
You glance back and forth between your tray and hers a few times before coming to a decision.
With a swift movement, you vivisect the taco scoop on your plate and slop it onto her platter. Like you could eat it, knowing your friend gave up her perfectly good lunch for your fuck-up, and got stuck with something infinitely worse because of it.

Sonia seems shocked by the gesture for a few moments, before grabbing a handful of her tots and dropping them on your plate in return. She beams her adorable smile at you.
"Now, we're even!", she chirps.
Not even close. But at least you improved her mood. Feeling good once again, you finally ingest the garbage in front of you.

It's certainly something one would eat to prevent hunger pangs. But the same could probably be said of sawdust.
END CHAPTER 25
Chapter 26 - More Science Than Art

After what felt like only a few minutes of general small talk amongst the group (you hardly contributed, you just listened for the most part), the bell rings once again, drawing the lunch period to a close.
You bid goodbye to Sonia for the rest of the schoolday and start making your way upstairs to Art class.

You wouldn't say you're an expert artist, or even a middling one, to be honest. You liked to doodle sometimes, but it never went much further than goofy drawings in the margins of your notebooks.
This was one class you felt like you couldn't rely on your relative smarts to actually pass.
As you march along, you notice Manic walking alongside you. You decide to chat with him a little bit more before class.
"Hey, what's your next class, Manic?", you inquire. "Art", blankly states the grassy-haired Mobian.
What a coincidence.

"Hey, me too!", you exclaim. Manic seems to perk up a bit. "Sweet," he says,"maybe today's class won't suck after all."
"So, what's the teacher like?", you ask, hoping to avoid any more asylum patients disguised as proctors.
"Eh, it depends", Manic remarks. "On good days, he's kinda cringe, he yammers on and on about how beautiful art is and expressing yourself and all that bullshit"
"And on bad days?", you continue the inquiry. "On bad days, he just mutters to himself and lets us fuck around all period", Manic explains.

A coinflip on whether art's gonna be easy or painful, huh? You guess there's not much else you can do but leave it up to fate.
You and Manic approach room 201. Apprehension begins to grip you once more. Manic grips the handle to the doorway and takes a deep breath. It seems he's also letting Lady Luck decide how class is gonna go.
Finally, he opens the door and the two of you enter.
You glance around the classroom, but don't really see much of any note. It's a classroom, a bunch of desks are placed in a row, facing a whiteboard, and a large desk for the teacher is placed at the front.

Actually, scratch that, you spot the teacher sitting at his desk. It's a middle-aged white male with a blonde ponytail and--
...wait a second, you've seen this guy before. Your art teacher is Brian, the guy who spit down Mr. Stevens' throat earlier.
A cursury observation of the plackard on his desk reveals his proper title: Mr. Vandemeer.
It seems Mr. Vandemeer hasn't noticed you or Manic. Or, if he has, he hasn't acknowledged your presence.

Manic breaks the ice. "Yo, Mr. V., how're ya doing today, homie?"
Vandemeer sits silently for a few moments before mumbling, "I could've been somebody...", not even bothering to look your way.
Manic silently pumps his fist in victory. It seems today's going to be a free day for art class.
The emerald-shaded Hedgehog proceeds to his seat. Unsure of where else to go, you choose to sit next to your acquaintance.
As you sit, you notice Manic busting out a sheet of paper and scribbling on it with a green crayon randomly.

"What the hell are you doing?", you ask, puzzled by the act.
"It's a free day, dude", Manic explains in an aloof manner. "All we gotta do is draw shit on some paper, then turn it in and say some bullshit about how we felt while making it."
You give an understanding grunt as Manic returns to his scrawling. You proceed to pull out your art supplies (a set of colored pencils, some standard #2's, a narrow felt-tipped pen, and some other odds and ends), before staring at the blank sheet of paper before you.

What to draw...the question nagged at you for what felt like an agonizingly long time.
Well, hell, try to draw SOMETHING. A shape, to start with. You pick up a pencil and start drawing...a circle.

Alright, it's a little lopsided, but you're not about to crush your motivation over a small mistake like this. Van Gogh didn't become good overnight, right?
Maybe you can cover it up with something. You start squiggling on some more jagged lines over the top right quarter of the circle. It kinda looks like hair.
Okay, that looks better. Kinda looks like the start of an emo kid or Skrillex or something.

Why the fuck do you know what Skrillex looks like? You've never listened to his music outside of quickscope montage parodies.

Whatever, let's just keep going. Maybe draw a triangle over on the top-left quarter of the circle?
Huh. That looks strangely better. Fills it out a little bit.
Hmm. The bottom half feels a bit empty. Let's draw a little horizontal wave through the middle of this thing, maybe make it the start of a jawline or something.

'Kay, looks fine. Let's put a circle in the middle of the wave, right at the crest. Hm...and then fill it in black.
Alright, now another black dot over here...and one across from it...hey, it's a face! Let's give it a mouth, too. A smile, with a little divot in the center. Give it that sort of cute cat face, like the ":3" emote.
And we'll finish with another wave within the circle, but this one's gonna have a higher arch...aaaaaand there we go!

...wait, what the fuck.

You drew Sonia.

WHY did you draw Sonia?

You can't turn this in, you've got to explain why you drew it to that fucking teacher that spit down that other incredibly perverted teacher's throat.
Jesus fucking Christ, Anon, you've got to stop obsessing over this girl.

Oh shit, is Manic looking? What would he say if he saw you had a crush on his sister?

You glance over to see Manic has somehow fallen asleep in class. There's distinct smears of crayon wax near the corners of his mouth mixing with his drool.
Your fears of discovery having been assuaged, you quickly crumple your sketch and toss it in your backpack. You'd dispose of it properly, but anyone could just pick up the wad of paper and immediately find out your dirty little secret.
Best keep it close to the vest for now.
Anyway, now what can you draw with the remaining...eight minutes of class.

...Fuck it, butts. Easy, just draw two 'P's over one another.
PP
PP
PP=3

hehehehehe ppbth

As you giggle incessantly over your crude drawings of farting asses, you realize class is about over. The student body collectively rises, yourself included, though you did have to shake Manic a bit to wake him up.
One by one, the students march towards the teacher's desk and hand in their work.
There is an AWFUL lot of Yu-Gi-Oh and Death Note yaoi from the other students.

The moment you turn yours in, however, the teacher changes his mood from despondent and vacant, to attentive and...somewhat miffed?
"Excuse me, you there", Mr. Vandemeer calls out to you. You lock in place, fearful of what punishment may be coming. "Y-yes, sir?", you stammer out nervously.
Vandemeer holds your crude mockery of art up. "What is this supposed to be?", he asks flatly.

Oh, hell. Think quick, Picasso.
"Uhm...it's a reference to those Japanese paintings of those dudes having a fart war", you reply, thinking of the only thing remotely art-and-fart-related that came to your mind.
"You mean 'He-Gassen'?!", the art teacher responds, perking up.

You had no clue those images actually had a name. You truly learned something today. Neat.

"S-sure, I guess", you stutter. Vandemeer peers at your work once more, pondering.
"Hmm...yes, I can see the similarities in composition", he remarks, rubbing his chin. "What was your name, again?"
"Uhh...Anon", you hesitantly answer. Vandemeer wags his finger at you, nodding slightly.
"I'll be keeping an eye on you, Anon", the proctor declares.

Great. More attention. Just the thing you didn't want from the teachers at this school.
END CHAPTER 26