The parking lot is abuzz when Damien pulls up. I don't know how there's an open parking space right at the front of the lot, prime real estate right next to the doors, but he glides the Firebird into it like it's what he does everyday—even though I'm pretty sure he never comes to school.

"Why don't you park your car at the back of the lot?" I ask him. It's been a couple years since I've been in a high school parking lot, but that's what all the car guys from my school did. Seemed like the smartest decision to me.

But Damien stares at me, I think with the most quizzical facial expression he could possibly muster. "Why?"

I stare back, just as blankly. I speak slowly, so I can ensure he has the best chance of understanding just what the hell I'm talking about. "Because there are more open spaces back there, so there's less of a chance someone might damage your car."

He does this weird little snort laugh. I've officially spent too much time with this man. If he says one more dumbass thing, I'm liable to puke. "No one's gonna touch this car."

"Really?" I pull my backpack onto my lap, hand poised on the door handle so I can jet out of here. "Because, what—accidents never happen?"

His expression sours, but he tries to keep that smile on his face. Someone should check this man's basement. Or his freezer. "What is with you today?"

Oh sweet baby Jesus. "Nothing ... babe."

I really hope this is how Other Sawyer smiles. It feels like this is probably the face that Miss USA contenders make, but it's not something I'd have attempted with my old face. My old smile was obnoxious, I know—over-wide, over-teethy, overzealous. It doesn't feel like Other Sawyer's vibe. Other Sawyer's vibe is that one pregnant cheerleader from Glee, probably, because I never watched Glee, but it feels fitting.

I'm out of the car before he can say another word. I don't have to look behind me to know that he's whipped out of the parking space to go do god-knows-what—the screeching of his tires on the asphalt is confirmation enough.

I nearly trip over my own boots when the blue box appears again:

MISSION: Go to school.
STATUS: Completed.
REWARD: +3 plausibility buffer.

I want to ask the blue box just what the fuck is a plausibility buffer, but I think doing that in a parking lot would make me sound crazy. Luckily, it disappears without me having to wave it away, like a particularly potent fart.

There's a group of students lingering on the sun-soaked steps in front of the large glass entrance to the school. I think I can piece apart who's who—Maiya had face claims at the beginning of her book, and I guess the universe has interpreted that fairly biblically. I wonder if she was picturing specific people in her writing and it leaked into this world, though, because Other Sawyer looks the least like her face claim.

The students on these steps are the popular crowd from Maiya's book. There's Rhett Brady, the sunshine quarterback love triangle rival of Damien, who is stupid and definitely less romantic than (but nowhere near as toxic as) his bad boy counterpart. There's Selena Vivas, who is definitely more gorgeous than her face claim, but is also noticeably the only person of color in the group. She's Other Sawyer's best friend at the beginning of the book. By the end, she's sided with Daffy and helps denounce Other Sawyer to the whole school.

So, mental note, I guess: be especially nice to her.

The other kids here are vaguely placeable, but nowhere near as important to the plot. I think I'll be able to figure out who they are just by listening in on conversations. Or just calling people "you." That always works. I bet.

I don't know how believable I'm supposed to be as Other Sawyer—so, my current goal is just to try and fly under the radar as much as possible. While preserving as much of my dignity as possible.

Selena shields her eyes from the sun as I approach. She's on the second step, her mostly bare legs extended fully in front of her. Other students part around Other Sawyer's friend group, a few casting nervous glances now and again, with the majority ignoring them completely. It's as if these stairs are their universally accepted domain.

Okay, yeah, she did me dirty with the whole Other Sawyer thing, but I kinda love that Maiya thought popular kids would be like this in high school.

I also really hope I'm selling the walk. I don't need a repeat of what happened with Damien. My legs feel too long, my gait too gawky, my head unbalanced. I jut my chin out and try to act like I mean to be walking this way.

"Hey." I wiggle my fingers in an awkward wave to Selena, stopping in front of her on the steps.

Selena moves her hand away from her eyes and makes a scrunched up expression that I'm not entirely sure how to read. She's looking at me like I have literal shit smeared on my face. I have to fight the urge to touch my cheeks just to be sure. But then, she says, "What are you wearing?"

I glance down at the outfit. Like, look, I really thought that this was a suitable 2016 vibe. I look back up at her. "What about it?"

Now it's just her nose that's wrinkled up. "You look like a teacher."

"I—" Do I look like a teacher? Fuck. I wasn't exactly fashionable in middle school. I used to get mistaken as a teacher all the time back then. Even now in adulthood, I kinda just throw on whatever doesn't look terrible with comfy jeans. This.... I will examine this at a later date.

I sit next to Selena, shifting my backpack around to my lap, and look out on the parking lot instead of directly at her. "I was having a wardrobe emergency."

"Ew, was it something bad?"

"I ... no. I just couldn't decide what to wear." Sounds plausible. Yeah. Good.

"What? You? What happened to the outfit we planned out for you two weeks ago? Remember?" Selena whips out her phone and shows me a picture—a picture of my cursed zebra print bedding, with an outfit laid out on top of it. I love that she had it right there to pull up. I do not love the outfit. It's fucking appalling—baby pink shorts with a white top and a floral kimono-style cardigan. Fuck, I forgot about those. Maybe I'm glad I was never fashionable.

"You bought these specifically for the first day," Selena says. "We were gonna match. What the hell is wrong with you?"

It's then that I realize that Selena would have been matching with Other Sawyer, with the same pink shorts and white top, but a darker floral kimono. Fuck.

"Sorry," I tell her, and she almost looks surprised. "Something happened to the outfit."

Her eyes narrow. "Was it Damien again?"

.... Nah. Nahhhhh. Because, what the fuck does that mean?

"M-maybe?" I don't know how I should answer here.

Selena shakes her head, then playfully slaps me in the shoulder before leaning in to whisper, "Look, it's hot that he literally tears your clothes off you and all that, but next time, tell him our first day outfits are sacred!"

Oh my god. Ew. Ew. Ew. This is so weird. "Yeah, of course. I'm really sorry." Ew. Ew. Ew.

Selena starts rambling about some girl's post on Instagram, but I zone out. It's so weird to think that Other Sawyer—a sixteen-year-old—is doing ... tearing clothes off stuff with a delinquent who looks like a grad student. Other Sawyer and Daffy are juniors. They're literally five, six years younger than me. They're babies.

To be fair, I know people who started a lot earlier. I was paying taxes my junior year. Maybe if I had had any prospects back then, I'd have done stuff. And of course I had friends who did. Maiya was one of them.

Whatever. I was already weirded out by the very-light sex scenes I read last night, just knowing that they were written by a thirteen-year-old with warped perspectives and no healthy education, for more thirteen-year-olds with equally dubious takes. And now, I'm here, in this little world or pocket dimension or—what still seems like my most likely option—my very own slice of hell, and I guess I'm surrounded by children doing and discussing these things, and I really, really, really hope that this isn't the end of the road for my existence. That I go on to exist in this hellish state in perpetuity, forever stuck in a high school of Sawyer's creation.

"Oh my god." Selena elbows me. It's harder than I would have liked, but it does grab my attention. "Chaffy Daffy grew boobs."

I try not to make my scanning the parking lot too obvious. "What? Where?"

Selena grabs my chin with her fingers and forcefully swivels my head in her direction. "There."

I see her immediately. And, just, oh. Okay.

I don't know why I'm even remotely surprised. She's breathtaking. Given the rest of Maiya's cast, I should have assumed that Daffy would be. I'd already thought I was getting whiplash from seeing so many outlandishly attractive people in person. Somehow, Daffy is on a whole other level.

I watch as she stumbles through the parking lot, wide-eyed and bumbling, almost as if she's never seen it before. It certainly fits the vibe she had in the book—especially knowing that she'd woken up maybe ten minutes before her dad dropped her off at school. (Dead mom, by the way. Main character classic. Slay, Maiya.)

But there's something different about this, I realize. In the book, Daffy gets dropped off at the back of the parking lot and makes her same bewildered stumble towards the front entrance, dodging other students' shitty driving on the way. Until she gets to Damien's parking space, that is. He's supposed to nearly hit her with his car, I'm supposed to get out and bitch her out as I leave for class, and Damien (uncharacteristically, I think he also noticed the new boobs) asks if she's alright and offers to walk her to class. Daffy rejects the offer, but it's the start of a whole fucking saga, one in which I would consider to end poorly for everyone involved. Except for maybe Selena. Which, good for her. I guess.

Have I just successfully interrupted the plot of the entire book?

.... Huh.

Go me?

A/N - HOPE YOU'VE ENJOYED!!!

I'm still really sick so I don't know if I'll be finishing this ONC. BUT, I do get surgery on April 10th (endoscopic sinus surgery for my chronic rhinosinusitis!!! My CT sinus scan was so bad that it was "impressive" and "not remotely normal" and "concerning for [my] age"!!!!!!!!!!!!) (fuck it we BALL), so hopefully I start feeling better. After my supposed 1-3 weeks of recovery time. Just in time for finals!!! Yippee!!

Soooo yeah, might not be finishing this one in time for ONC, I'm so sorry 😭 My internship/3 other jobs + my 19 credit hours are keeping me really busy. But I'm having fun writing this!!! I read a lot of isekai comics so it's been really fun to try and translate what I read in mainly manhwa to prose format.

If you're doing ONC, how is it going for you?????

Anyways, it's nearly 3 a.m. here, couldn't sleep due to ✨da phlegm✨ so gonna do a take two sleeperoo now G'NIGHT 

Total WC: 5430