United States History. Only the best class to make fun of. At least to Alex.

He'd never really cared much for History until now. He could deal with civics (it was a pretty beneficial class, after all). He could deal with World History (he actually found that one amazing). But, he hated the reminder of his heritage being second rate in the eyes of many. He hated seeing the terribly gory pictures of slaves being help on ships with nothing to drink but their own urine.

He just fucking hated it.

However, it was made for by having the best fucking students, excluding one specific Matt Sloan.

The students themselves were very accepting, including calling Alex by his chosen name. They respected him for being a guy or a girl at any given moment. Except, of course, Matt Make-America-Great-Again Sloan.

A paper was thrown in front of Alex. Bringing him, wait, no. Bringing her back to the shitty present.

"You guys have the first project of the year, said Ms. Smith. Her voice was so shrill and light and filled with fake happiness; it reminded Alex of Umbridge. She just didn't know how similar the two were. "It's about the side effects of the French and Indian war. If you were paying attention, you'd know that the war was a massive part of the colonists declaring independence.

"I want a PowerPoint about a topic and reasoning behind the topic. Make it pretty. Make some transitions. Make it school appropriate."

Alex rolled her eyes. What was it with teachers and PowerPoint? It was worse than the fucking bitmoji classrooms they put on their PowerPoint.

Alex went through the paper on her desk before finding the dreaded words. Partners.

Alex wanted to fucking barf.

It was a god. Damn. Fucking. PowerPoint.

Why the hell would she need help with that shit? The entire fucking project was built on a few pages and shitty fonts.

She sighed and continued to read.

Partners are optional. If you choose to do a partnered project, the two must be in the same period.

Wow, Alex was a dumbass.

Still, why the hell would partners be necessary?

Alex looked around the room. Almost half of the class were paired.

What a bunch of idiots.

Alex looked through the taxes implemented in the States after the war. She rolled her eyes every time the colonists complained. It was almost as if war cost a shit ton of money? And, maybe, the king had the right to tax them, as he is their fucking king? Also like, the colonists were a big part of this war. It's almost like... They should pay for it?

She was genuinely afraid of these men at this point.

Alex looked around the class before taking out her phone. It had been vibrating.

Magnus texted her.

Blofis is asking us about college.

"Oh shit," Alex muttered.

She quickly wrote a reply.

Do you even know your top college yet?

NYU

She looked back at her textbook; while she may not care about the class, she did care about getting a decent grade.

What's your major? Alex asked.

Nursing hbu?

Alex considered for a moment, even if she didn't have to. She knew exactly where she wanted to go, and she had a pretty good plan with that college essay. If they asked for one.

I want to go to FIT

What's that???

It's a fashion college in SUNY.

"Alex?"

Alex glanced up at Ms. Smith.

"I do hope you are on your phone seeking further resources."

Alex cleared her throat. "Yep."

When Ms. Smith looked away, Alex rolled her eyes. They were given two weeks to create a PowerPoint. She would not start doing that shit now.

Her phone continued to vibrate.

How do I write an essay with maximum sympathy points?

*sigh* Magnus... we are literally foster kids -_-

True, what are you doing is USH.

We have a PowerPoint due in two weeks.

Why tf do you need two fucking weeks for a PowerPoint!

Alex snorted before replying.

IDK, why tf are you asking me?

The bell gave a shrill ear-bleeding-worthy noise.

Alex flew out of her class. She actually liked Blofis. He was one of the teachers who might even care about their students.

She knew it was very far fetched, but still.

Then, the realization hit her. She was going to fucking college.

She was going to get out of foster care.

Holy fucking shit, Alex would be out of foster care.

She didn't know if she would be able to do such things.

She worked a part-time job giving her $15.36 an hour; how Starbucks managed to pay her that much, she didn't know. Going for her Associates cost $2645 per fucking semester. Alex wanted to get a fucking Baccalaureate's. She also has to pay rent because she can't deal with the shit her homophobic fosters were doing to her. Rent varied depending on where Alex was, but the prevailing rate was $2364 per month, give or take a few hundred bucks. She also had to make sure she stayed alive. That meant getting food and water. That also cost a shit ton of money.

Needless to say, Starbucks wasn't going to cut it.

What Alex needed was a scholarship. It didn't matter what kind; she just needed one if she wanted to survive in the world.

She supposed that she might up her chances to get some Homecoming and Prom designs in the works. But that takes time and a shit ton of it. She didn't care about how the contestants in Next In Fashion were able to make five looks in three days, one of which including a fucking wedding dress. Alex wasn't working on Beyonce's clothing; she worked on finding a female trench coat that looks semi-presentable for a musical.

Doubt crawled through her as she reached Blofis' class.

What the hell was she doing?

So many people⁠—not even including people like Alex⁠—never make it. Why the hell would she?

Well, for one, you have plus-sized designs and gender-neutral dresses and tuxedos. What sort of luxury line has that? a small voice inside Alex said.

Ah, yes. That's perfect for people who will most likely be on the bachelor! Alex responded. Just a reminder that no one on that show wears gender-neutral clothing or is plus-sized.

The voice stayed silent.

Alex pinched herself. She needed to snap out of it. Sure, not many lines have her ideas for inclusivity, but that made her stand out. Right?

Yes. It did.

Confidence. Alex needed confidence. Take a look at Jonathan Van Ness. She'd read his book. She's seen how much he'd struggled in life, and look at him now.

Okay. That makes this better. Now, all we need to do is write an elaborate essay without sounding desperate or aloof.

Fuck.

The bell rang again, making her thoughts crumble to the ground.

Is this how Harrison Bergeron is supposed to work. If so, forget all my doubts and judgments. Kurt Vonnegut was a genius.

"Good afternoon, everyone. Today we are starting an essay," Mr. Blofis announced, thus earning groans from the class.

"Your college essays."

Everyone calmed down.

"We aren't going to do much today. We'll just break down the different formats. While we do that, you can begin to think about what you want to write your essay about." Mr. Blofis handed out a stack of papers to a few people. "Pass those back."

Alex started playing with her hair. It was already brown. Did she buy a temporary dye?

Before she had the chance to find out, someone plopped a stack of paper in front of her. One of the cons of being in the fourth row of the classroom was the inability to think.

"The first one I want to go over is the one everyone usually thinks about first—the montage. It isn't a montage of your life, but a montage of your skills. To understand how this works, you need to know what a montage is. And, given the fact that we all live in the 21st century, I assume you do. So, I'll keep the explanation short. It is basically creating a short, edited version of something that still shows the big picture."

Alex glanced at the detailed explanation and example essay. She barely read two words before throwing the idea down her throat and out her ass.

Abso-fucking-lutely not.

While she knew her essay idea was cheesy as hell, she wanted to tell her story. She just hoped she would get help.

"The second is the narrative essay. This is more complicated than the montage, as some people will be more suited for this than others. It is all about your life. It connects you to the reader on a very personal level. If your life was perfect, I recommend doing the montage of your skills. If your life was perfect, but you are guarding a secret, please write this. It's dramatic and can connect you to people if written correctly. I won't give further details until tomorrow, as I don't want a certain factor about both of these essays to change the decision you think is right."

Alex went through the narrative example. It was almost like a short story, poetic and inspiring. Excellent for an English teacher. It reminded her of an author she'd read. Sally Jackson. Alex had read her book about a kid with ADHD and dyslexia. It was one of Alex's favorites, up with Six of Crows and the perks of being a wallflower. All of them were made by genius authors who understand depression, anxiety, and dysphoria.

She'd reread Mrs. Jackson's novel. And Leigh Bardugo's duology. They'd help her prepare.

Maybe Magnus would too. She knew he liked reading, and he probably had the chance to read more expensive books than Alex had.

Okay. Now she's getting somewhere.

heyyyyy everyone *hides behind screen to provent y'all from attacking me*

umm its been a while. sorry.

i've had this huge writers block for everyone except Drew... so prepare for that bitches.

i also started researching a lot for this section of the fic... where things start happening. so as a forwarning for what is to come

TRIGGER WARNING

if you wish to read on, you may.

alsooooo I FOUND A PJO SLIME TUTORIAL IF YA KNOW WHAT I MEAN

its on youtube.

if you don't understand, someone in the comments shall explain.

ummm.... that's about it. love y'all