Alexander couldn't seem to keep his eyes open during his last hour class. As much as he loved learning, science class was a such painful headache. With second semester gradually coming to a closed and the end of the year exams coming up, the only classes he was looking forward to were art and music class. The only classes he could stay sane in. As he began to slightly tip over the verge of sleep, he could only here small snippets of words. But the words 'Research paper' gave him an electrifying surge of energy, so much so that he jolted awake. Followed by the class groaning in disapproval.

 "Yes, I know, more work. But it's only 3,000 words long and I've decided turn that assignment into your exam. So be grateful, you little bastards." 

Anita Kenny had always came across as a snarky woman, Alexander had recognized this from the beginning, as he was one sharp-tongued male himself. So this was something that he had learned to get accustomed to overtime. That is, until around the end of the first semester. Alexander was walking home one day, only to pass by the teacher's house. And because he had one curious mind, he took a peak into their window from afar. 

What his eyes perceived was Anita and her husband yelling and screaming at each other in frustration. Mr. Kenny stomped out of the house, slamming the door behind him, his face and ears were a rosy red. Alexander quickly started to walk away. 

Then, about a month later, she came into the classroom with a different aura. She wasn't angry like Alexander expected her to be, she was inexplicably calm, her eyes were bloodshot, and she walked around with an alarmingly sinister smile on her face. She could barely stand up straight, she slurred her words, and would go in and out of her desk drawer frequently. Alexander—like many others—wanted to get to the bottom of her strange behavior. During lunch hour, he took the time slip into the classroom and snoop around, search for some type of clues. 

"What the fuck.." That was all the Caribbean boy could say when he opened up that desk drawer. A small syringe with a thin and long needle. Multiple bottle of pills which he assumed to be not prescribed by her primary doctor. Especially when he saw what seemed to be remnants of pills under her water bottle. Connecting the pieces with the evidence that he had, he sighed. Her already poorly built marriage has driven her to some places that could cause some bad—even permanent damage. There's no telling how many bad connections she's made. Wait-

"But..don't the teachers have to take drug tests..?" He questioned aloud. That just threw everything off track. Just as he was about to close up the drawer, the classroom door swung open, making Alexander recoil in fear. "What the hell are you doing in my classroom boy!?" Alexander quickly moved from behind the desk with his hands in the air, he tried to speak, but his words got caught in his throat. 

Anita grabbed Alexander by the collar and threw him towards the door, his body nearly falling onto another student's desk. "I'm sorry!" He cried, backing away to the door. "If I ever catch your dirty behind snoopin' around in my classroom, you won't ever be able to set foot on this here campus again."

Never had a good relationship with the woman since. But with all honesty, he would really like to see her get help. And he never figured out how she passes her drug test, but that's a question for another day.

The school bell nosily reverberated around the halls,  giving immensive joy to the students locked away in their jail cells, being force fed meaningless information that will never be used in their daily lives. The lies told by their so called superiors, when the children know more than let on. But their voices are taken away by the school system, ensuring that who they believe to be the minorities--don't have the ability to shed the vision of truth to these blind sheep. Basically what school is all about-

All of the students grabbed their backpacks and began to run out of the classroom before anything else was asked of them--the closer Alexander had gotten to the front door, the more his anticipation began to surface. Thomas--on the flip side--was just as nervous as Alex was excited. And with Peggy volunteering (forcing) herself as Thomas' wing-woman, made the feeling intensify. "You'll be fine, just follow my set of instructions and it'll be perfect."  Peggy clung onto Thomas' torso as he walked with him into his bedroom and explained the game plan. 

Thomas had always been like a big brother to Peggy. From their first time meeting at summer camp, when he'd help bandage her small scar from a huge fall from the top of a hill, to the days where they lended each other's shoulders to cry on. The night when Thomas' mother had OD'd. The same night Peggy's aunt had committed suicide. They never left each other's side. Angelica wasn't too fond of the Southerner at first, especially with how much trouble he used to get into, calling him a horrible influence. 

But, considering the fact that she's always talked about how you should never judge a book by it's cover and how you never know what people are going through, she didn't want to seem like a hypocritical person. So she gave him a try and found out that he wasn't really a bad guy. As Angelica learned to accept, Eliza did as well. But Thomas wasn't really frustrated, as he was protective of his younger siblings too. "As long as you stay outta the way, it'll be perfect."

"Isn't there something I can do to help out?" Thomas smiled and looked down at her. "Yes, there actually is something." The brunette in yellow crossed her arms and smirked, sitting herself down onto Thomas' chair. "I knew you just couldn't do this without me." Thomas set his backpack down on his bed, rummaging through it, his face lighting up when he found the packet. He handed Peggy requirements for the upcoming research paper. 

"We can spend all the time in the world together if you could do this for me." The 16 year old scoffed and pursed her lips. "Bitch please. Give me something that's valuable." The curly haired boy emitted a sigh. "Girl you know I ain't got shit." "So I guess this paper ain't gettin' done." She sassed, rolling her neck and blinking repeatedly. "Okay, just help me get ready." Peggy squealed with excitement as she ran downstairs and out the door shouting. "I'll be right back."

"Alexander~!" James sung, immediately giving Alexander one hell of a headache, he didn't answer, hoping that he would go find someone else to pester.  He skipped towards him with a smug smile. "We have to get you ready for your date!" Alex twirled his head around—nearly getting a painful whiplash and noisily cleared is throat. "How the hell-?" James held Alexander's phone up to where he could see it,  shaking it slightly. "Just did a little phone searching as all.." "James!" Alexander shouted, snatching is phone out of the shorter's hand. He stormed passed he's friend—currently rethinking the title given to him—walking into his room and throwing himself on his bed. 

"Look, I'm trying to help you. Now get your oily ass up so I can make sure you don't look like a homeless man." Alexander pressed a pillow onto his face, at this point, he didn't really mind the thought of suffocation. His brother had did it—landed him in the hospital for a few days, and that's more than enough time for him to call it quits on this whole thing. But his friend wasn't having it—pulling him up out of his bed, and into his own room. "Now you wait here while I try to find something in your closet that doesn't look disastrous or disappointing." 

Silence filled the room, with the exception on James grumbling on about how he didn't have anything wearable in his closet. That boy wears fingerless gloves for Christ's sake, what could be more flamboyant than that? Alexander fiddled with his fingers, looking around at his friend's decor choice. My Hero Academia posters, some feathers peaking out at Alex from his closet. One thing Alexander admired about James is that he wasn't afraid to show off his style, he was still working on that. 

Then, he spotted a mirror--would he dare to look into it and give himself an unnecessary judgment on the way he looks, somehow finding more flaws and another reason to try for plastic surgery? Of course he is, I need to force you to feel bad for this boy. From his long and greasy hair to the green eyes, he forced himself not to retch. His black, scattered, dust like freckles horrifically screamed at him. But he couldn't be that bad, someone actually wants to spend their time with him. 

He couldn't change his eye color, chubby cheeks, or the dirt he calls freckles on his face. But his hair was a different story. Even though it had took him years to grow his hair out like the way it is now, it wasn't until recently that he though about cutting some of it off. From memory, he reached behind the mirror and grabbed the pocket knife placed on the edge of the desk. It was 'supposedly' used for when someone unwanted came into his room. "Okay, I found something that wasn't repulsing-" 

James caught a glimpse of Alexander with the pocket knife, immediately jumping the gun and assuming the worst. "Alex no!" He snatched the weaponry out of his hand throwing it back onto the bed. "James, I was just gonna cut my hair." Of course, he didn't believe him, but he didn't with the best intentions. With him being in the few group of people that knows what happened to him, he wanted to keep him as safe as possible. "You know I don't trust you with knives." Alexander turned around, crossing his arms, genuinely frustrated and confused.

 "And why is that? Please, tell me why." James didn't even try to respond, clearly getting the memo that he was in the wrong. "I'm sorry. I just wanna keep you safe. I didn't mean anything by it." "And I get it, I just hate when you assume I'm suicidal just because of that. One of the reasons why I don't tell anybody these things."  The two got quiet, James--for the most part--understood what he meant. "Well." He cleared his throat. "Shall we continue the dressing process? Because I know you ain't goin' out like this." Alexander released a breath resembling a laugh and nodded his head. 

"Pegs--uhm, I don't think this is gonna work." Peggy, leaning back onto the wall next to the bathroom shouted to him. "It is, trust me." Thomas walked out of the bathroom, shifting from foot to foot—struggling to walk properly. But you can't expect to do something as basic as that if your jeans are three sizes too small. "I told you the won't fit." She examined the pants with a pout. "It's not my fault you thighs are too big. But at least your ass looks good." Thomas slid down  onto the floor and squirmed out of the Fashion Nova jeans, throwing them to the side. "I'm not wearing that." 

"Alright, I'll find something else." The Schuyler mumbled, walking back into the room. He scratched his head and looked up at the clock. Two hours. The amount of time he had wasn't really ideal—but he couldn't do anything about it, so it would have to do. "Here. These are from your closet so if they don't fit, it's not on me." She threw the pair of blue ripped jeans his way and watched as he shuffled into the more comfortable and room-full piece of denim. "Hm." She tilted her head and eyed his outfit. 

Thomas' suggestion of kinky hair with rose gold glasses didn't look so bad when she actually looked at it, a thick coffee colored hoodie with Aegean jeans and checkered Vans screamed casual. "I did so good." Peggy congratulated herself. Alexander—with the help of James—styled his hair into a half bun, on oversized shirt with Memphis displayed on the front of it in big, black letters. Sapphire shorts and white Air Forces. James gave the outfit a chef's kiss. 

 "Okay, I think your ready." Peggy and James smiled, approving of their looks.

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