Drowned in Honey: Transfer School Girl Quest!

Guiding Bolt · Jan 8, 2018

"Morning, hunny! Time for a new year of school!"
Nyg . . nm . . next year . .

"Darling! You wouldn't want to be late for a new yeaaar of school!"
Mm . . ahmm . . this tastes funny . . .

"Young missy! You do not want me to have to come up there and wake you up again! I thought I told you to get that nasty sleep schedule of yours under control!"
Hmnn . . pepmm . . hair in mouth . . .

"Alright! That's it! I'm coming up there, missy, and you'd have better have a good reason for all of this nonsense when I wake you up!" Door-slam. Rattle. Rattle.
Eughhh . . face-in-leather . . is it storming ? . .

Door opening. Gasp. Exaggerated and audible second gasp.

I open my eyes, but I'm just staring into the leather of my sofa and the clumps of my hair between me and my sofa. There's a hand on my shoulder, rolling me over, and I just roll with it.

Momma looks like she's seen a ghost. I wince. There's rings under her eyes that I haven't seen since the first weeks after Dad left. But it's her overall paleness that gets to me. Did I really look that bad--ow! She jabs me with a hot and wet hand towel, putting it over my forehead. I try to turn away, but her grip has turned to steel! . . ! I'm trapped here while she jabs me with this wet towel!

Jab! "Mom!" There's a moment's reprive. Has she decided to let me go. . ?
Jab! "Momma!" No! It was just a false sense of security--wait. She's stopping. Maybe I can--jabjabjabjab . .
. . jabjabjabjabjabjab--"Momma!"--jabjabjabjabjab. Her wet towel assault is too much! My defenses are failing! Nnygh . . this indignified attack on my character . . this won't stand! Hands away from head! No more defense!

While she--jabjabjabjabjab--barrages my face, I roll my shoulders. Hand back. Pillow I kicked down the bed in hand. Yes! Weapon acquired. Endure the jabs and pfwoosh--I swing the pillow! My deliverance is secured! I can't see with the wet towel jabbing into my face, but--the jabs stopped! Yes! I did it! I can see again! I open my eyes and see Momma collapsing to the floor, wet towel in hand and a giggle on her lips. I can't help but smile at the sight too.

Momma is such a weird woman. I mean, we all knew that already, but just staring at her with "southern comfort" golden locks and her faux school girl outfit--honestly, looked like she was the one going to a new school today, not me--and that aged prankster smirk that was always on her face. Well, almost always. Right now, all I could see of her face was rows of rows of dimples and the freckles that God gave her. She was starting to get back up, now, and I guess I was starting to stand up now.

I could lord my victory over her later. First I had to get to sleep. . . er, school. School school school. New year, new school, new me, right? Not just new me. I should be a better me, right? That starts at home. I won't be lording this victory over Momma. She's opening her mouth to say something that's probably dumb, feelsy and way too sweet, so I hop forward from my sofa and glomp onto her. That shocked gasp that left her is all I wanted.

Yes,, ! I have done it. I have bested my Momma. I am the sweetest daughter in the world. For sure. Wait. Why is her hand in my hair? Why is she brushing out my curls with her warm fingers? No! She's going to be sweet again!

"Momm," I manage out, opening my eyes again and looking at her. Oh no. Is that a tear in her eye? I can't compete with that . . oh no . . she's going to say something really sweet now . .

It's coming . . any second now . . eyes closed for impact, brace yourselves soldiers . . . . . . eh? I open my eyes. She's just beaming me with her eyes and that goofy grin of hers. Did she break? I open my mouth to ask what's up and she strikes! She leans forward! I'm locked in her grip! She--she--she kisses my forehead! Ack!

Then she lets me go. This is new. I haven't seen this sweetness protocol before. She's messing with the whole script and I don't know if I can handle these sort of switchups. I steal a glance at her again and she's still just beaming me with those eyes and that goofy grin. Eugh . . Momma is such a weirdo . .

"You should get ready for school, hun. I'll have breakfast ready when you're out of the shower, okay?"

I'd protest, but I . . do probably need a shower. It's been a hot minute since I took my last one. I smile, throw my hair back to get it out of my eyes, and head off to a shower. From there, breakfast--school--more sleep after school--no. From there, the world awaits!

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Today's vote!
[ ] Choose your name!
You're an American immigrant to wherever it is you are, and after your Dad . . left . . you took on your Momma's last name. Irvine -- pronounced IR-vin, and you're not looking forward to having to explain that to everybody you meet.

[ ] Choose your Academic focus!
Are you a math wiz? Do you want to start a literature club? Does history just get you? Will you make the world a better place for science!? Or maybe you don't have an Academic focus. It's okay too! Some people just want to focus on the party. Or maybe you just want to focus on some cute boys--that's okay too!

[ ] What's your favorite thing about yourself?
Do you have a cool and unusual talent? Can you do magic tricks? Are you a code monkey bestowed with TV-show hacking skills? Do you have some unnatural beauty? Is your hair truly divine in nature? Whatever it is that makes you happy to be who you are, here's where to put it.

[ ] What's the name of your best friend from back home?
He/she means a lot to you, and you mean a lot to them. For a lot of your life growing up in the rural south, the only thing you two had was eachother. Moving away like you did . . sometimes you think it would've been more humane just to kill them.

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Updates should be fairly regular for the next couple of weeks. Once I'm back in college, I'm unsure how the update schedule will go and there may be a short break while I get back into the swing of things, but I should get back to some consistency fairly quick after that. Will try for shorter updates and more frequent updates this time, as I think one of the failings of my previous quests was I tried too hard to write in a certain style and it killed my enjoyment. If you have any questions / see any outstanding errors in my writing style / have any suggestions, feel free to PM me! I'm welcoming to any constructive criticism and hoping to improve my writing through practice.

Guiding Bolt · Jan 8, 2018

Character Profile:

Name: Nellie "Nell" Irvine
Age: 17
Favorite Subject: Physics
Worst Subject: World History

Appearance:

Social Status: You don't know anybody, and nobody whose anybody knows you. Severe depression and anxiety has crippled your relations for as long as you remember.
Happiness: 40%
Homesickness: 35%

Jinn: The storm inside you has calmed, and you can feel yourself within it, moving to your will. Outside, it still rages, completely and utterly uncontrollable.
Magic (A): You're forced to admit that magic does in fact exist, and with recent events in mind, you should be able to use some of it. As of yet, you have had no luck.

Guiding Bolt · Jan 8, 2018

NPC Profiles:
Having finished the prologue, NPC profiles will now only be updated at the end of each chapter.
I would recommend against reading this until you are at least somewhat up to date.

Americans

Name: Lucille Irvine (formerly Lucille Thompson)
Age: 36
Occupation: Secretary for Saito & Kushner Law
Appearance: A short, blonde woman with curly southern hair and a thick southern accent. She has soft green eyes and rows of freckles. At home, she usually wears sundresses or nightgowns; at work, she tends to wear more formal, but still somwhat floral, dresses.
Ever since Dad left, she's been a lot happier of a woman. Though sometimes she still falls into ruts and picks up a bottle, for the most part she's completely gotten over her drinking. It's always worried you a little when you find her in the middle of the night watching cooking shows, but that's just Momma being who she is. And it's good that she's safe to be who she is again.

Name: Mr. Thompson
Age: 44
Favorite Activities: Political Debate and ̸̡̨̡̨̨̨̡̧̡̡̧̧̡̨̧̨̢̡̡̧̨̛͙̹͙̲̯̻͔̦̤̫̪̟̩̝͉̙̺̫͚͚̱̦̥̩̼̹͔̞͍͎̦̼̗̠̭̹͚̥͙̟̜͍̲͚̙̝̭̟̘̰̪͎̲̣̩̖̠͖͈̝̟̩͖͓͖̲̙͙̞̹̦͈͍͚̱̳̻̩͙͉̼͍͈̺͉̖̞̲̟͉̦̪̹͓͔̘̮̫̗͇͙͖̟̜̮̥̯̫͉͇̖͖͖̤͎̦͉̳̩͍͓͔̬̰̜̺͇̜̮̦̥̠̫͕͚̗̤͇̦̦̤͍̮͈̥͎͖̩̤͈͓̩̦̼̻͍͙̦̫̞̞̮͚͎̝̯̖͖̖̘͔̞͎̜́̔́̂̋͗̇̌̈́̉̉̆͑͗̑̋̅̓̎̃̀̌̅͊͒͊͆̿́̀͊̀̑͋̃̿̌̈́̐͑́̈́̄̇̂̈́͆͗͌͗̑͒̂͂͌̄́͛͊̋̎͛̽͂̋̌̄͗̿̌̈̽̃̋̂̎̎̌̊̇̈́̆͐̓͂̓͗́̀͌̿̌͊̅̿̉̒̀̎͑͛̈́̄̓̐̈́̚̕͘̚̚͘̕͘͘͘͜͜͜͠͝͠͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅ§̷̨̡̡̨̡̢̧̡̢̡̨̧̛̛̯̮̲̤̠͓̙̼̘̣̬͕̯̝̗͇̪̗̦̟̯͕̣͓̭̞̲̜͇̼̙̬̗̜̹̯̮͔͎̯̣̞̠̜͚͎͕̈́̀͗̉͂̒̔̄̀̍̿͐̾̐̊̍͒̽͗̿̅̽̋̓͊̿͂̎̍̍̈́͐͆̐̈́̌̇̓̏̑̈́͌̎̎͆̈́̏̂̏̇̃̔̑͒͊̒̈́̋̏̉́͗͛̋̇̂͊̋͒͂̎̕̚̚͘͜͜͜͝͠͝͝͝͠ͅͅͅ↨̵̡̨̛̜̳̰̘͚̜͔͙̮̺̰͚̬͔̖̼̩͕̖̳̥̲̺̩͙̞͉͔̯̙͎͙̳͖̝͚̱̲̤̤̰̣̙͉̠̤̗̦̻̥̤̲͎̙̤̙̟̝̝̹̖͖̝̬̳̖̭̹̥̻̈́̿͗̀̓̉̅̅̃͑͌́́̈́̃̐̕̕̚͝ͅņ̵̢̡̡̨̡̧̨̡̢̡̛̛̛̼̫͍̟̞͚͇̙̙̪̻̱̞̖̝̥͎̣͈̠̯̻̥͓̬̠͕̩̖̮̤͖͉̬̟̗̣̥͕̮̝̺̤̖̙͇̭̟̖͉̜͖̙͍͕̟̰̪̹̗͎̫͖͙̭̹̲̞͔̯̮̙͓̗̝͈̝͚̪̫̭͓̗͔̪̭̯̱̣̙̮̼̹͙̳̞̟̯͔͙̃̀̔̆̇͛̐̅̆͊̾̏́̓͒͑̌̌̃̍̉͐͐́́̃͒̎̑̑̊́̐̀̌̃̑́̓̿̉̌͗͒́̈́̌͐̇̃̑̈͋̈́̋̈́͐̓̒͗͒̔̈́́̈́͗̅̌͆̌͐̋̓̆͐͒͋̏̃͋̓̇̄̿̔̒͊̊͑̀̒͌̈́̃̅̌̉͑̋͛̽͆̓́͌̉͊̚̚̚̕͘͘̕̕͠͝͝͝͝͠͝͠͠͠͠͝͝ͅͅÿ̷̧̨̛̛̛̠̟͙͓̙̰̱̥̜̞̗̗̥̬͓̙͇̤̝͔̫̝͉̭̹͇̟̜̳̪̼̩̥͙͚͔̙̮͍̂́̇̀̊̾̇̿͋͛́͂̄͊̍̅̋̏́͒̏́͊̇́̈̎͛̈́̊̀̾͒̋̋̌̓͒͗̏̈́̏̿̏̾̓̒̍̎̄̀̄̋̾͐͗͑̓́͛͌̾͂̓̇̈́̄̅̂͆̏̓͛̿̎̔͂̑̔̽̃̂͊̌̏͑̿̈́̈́̑̌͆̌̅͗̅̋͆̀̎͂̄͆̑͗͐̌̌͌̽̏̔̀̎̉́͊̉̾̊̐͌̃͂̂́̆͐̈́̌̈́͊̑͛͂́̓̋͐̊̎͊͆̏̆̈̆͊̌͗͑̌͗̐̉͌̉̈́͆͑͑͒̾̉̉͊͋̾̑̈́̆͑́͆̈͒̈̆̾̈́̊̋̐̒̍̎͂̆̕͘̕͘̕̕̚͘̕͜͝͝͝͠͠͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͝ͅ╙̷̡̡̢̡̧̡̨̡̨̧̨̛̛̺̖͉͔̗̯͈͕͙̖̗̳͚̝͍̲̥̣̠͕̬̜̝̯͉͉̝̼̩̯̩̣̻̭̱̪̰͉̖͙̝̠̝̖͔̦̺̗͚̖̜̫̯̲̩̭̹̪̣̤̜͉̲̦̲̠̝͚̜̇̊́̀̾̑̈̈̍̑̂̓̏̄̎̈́͐͆̀̌̈́̔̈́̌̍͂̌́̄͊͋̈́̆̽̎̀́̆́̏̔̀̓̒͂̏̈́̏̌̂͗͆͒͛̆̓̀̈́͂̄̾̆̐͛͌̈͒̏͘͜͜͝͝͝͠͝͝ͅͅ3̴̧̡̨̢̢̧̡̡̨̢̢̘̭̮̥̣̘̗̭̻̤̟̲̣̗̹̲̭̦̱͖̘̜̠͈̹̗̦͖̹̙̰̗͚̰̪̬̦̠͙̩̫͇̼̤̯̖̝͓͈̹̜̙̮̠̲͚̫̤͍̮͉̗̤̫̟̭̖̹̙̫̖̪͉̝̩͚͚̲̬͎͓̼͙̼̟͈͙̠̪̘͓̙͓̦̩͎͍̪͙̟̦͙̳̞̗̎̅͋̉̊́̐͌͐̋́̄̉̄̈̌͊̔̐̆̂̌̈̅̓͆̇̂́̅̽̃͑̊͆̏͊̀̃̆̂̀̈́̋̈́̿͐͊́̿̈́̐͗̐̿̃͂̐̎̅̿̈́̋̈́͗̈́̌̓̀̇̐͛͆̃́̑̏͗͂͗̑̒͊́̒͛̄̅͗̓̚̕͘̚̚͜͜͜͠͝͠͠͝͝͠ͅͅͅͅͅŅ̴̨̧̡̢̧̢̧̢̧̨̧̡̡̡̢̧̙̳̯̦̬̟͍̬̗͓̱͖̹͖̣̤̭̠͚͈͚͖̱̯̭̟̦̦̥͈̞̯͓̱͈̩̙̤̩̦͚̞̣̟̳͖͚̙͈͈͔̗̹̼̟̗̗͍̫̼̦̪̞̯̦͉̬̜̫͓̣͉̩̩̠̰͍̰̪̬̤̭͙̺̩̯̲̤͈̯̲̯̼͍̗͉̥̟̤͉̺̠̹̙̯̟͚͖͖̞͔̼̠̯̱̩͖̗̖̼̯̪̩͇̝̭̞̭̝̦̞͇̪̺̱̞̥̹̳̜͕̜̥̬̬̃̿̓̈̇͆͜͜͜͜͜ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅ¶̵̨̧̢̢̨̨̡̡̨̡̧̡̢̨̛̛̛̛̛̛͓̳͙̠̳͈̜̦͕͙͚̮̱̠̘͇̰̬̰̱͉͇̙̖͔̞̠͓̬͎̯̘̪͔̙̘̝̝̻̜̘̥̦̳̝͔̳̳̙͔̘̻̮̱̖̝̳̼͎͔̟̼͔͇̬̪̰̼̰͖̦̦̭̜͓͖̟͙̩͖̭̮̺̻͉̞̥̬͔͙̪̝̺̟̠̼͈̠̟̜̱͈̣͓̲̣͕̠̜̘̹̤̟͇͓̮͎̬̞̥̙̫̗̣͈̬̱̗͓͙̫̪͍̺̪̘̱̤͔̭͔̝̭͎͇̺̮̜̮͙̦̖̘͇̣̺̺̩̰̫͎̪̫̞̖̇̽̽̓̂̓̀̈͂̂̎̎̊̔̐̀͒̑̾́̿͊̑̓̍͆̽́̅́̀͂͐̏̈́̐̿̔̀͑͑̃̈́́̈́̂̿̾͂̌̎̍̿͋̒͗͗̂̈͆͊̋̓͊̋͂̄̓̂͆͌̔̒̒̂̏̋̍̉͒̃̓̍̃͑͛͑͂͐̈́͗̈͌̑̇́̅̑͗͑̿̓̓͆̂̏̽͑̿͊͆̎̅͐́͑̀͑̾̑͋͒͆̇̂̋́̏͂͛́͌̉̅̎̈́͂͊̽̚͘͘͘̚͘̚̕̕̚͘̚̕͜͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͠͠͠͝͝͝͝͠͝͝ͅͅ
Occupation: Lawyer for 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̱ǫ̸̨̢̛̛̛̳̮̪͇̹̠͚̳̗̫̘͇̰̞̫͖̟͉̬̺͕̫̰̼̹̥̤̠̹͖̱̜̝͈̭̹̥̯̣̩̪̫̝̮̝̩̭̞̪͉̱̗͔͚̼̦͇̳̯͍̥͕̂̓͐̾͛̐͋̄̑̽̄͗̒̆̄̑̾͑̈̓̑̍̒̒̂̓̄́̈̓̔̈́́̓̐̈́̃̎̈͐̏͂̀̓́͊͒͒̎̒̃̀̃̇͑̅͗̌͗͊̂̈́͂̀̀̾̓̈́͂̈͒̆͌̌̓̎̇̈̽͐͛̃̓̓͒̏̑̋̓́͊̿̏͗̀̎̅́̋̍͗̚̕̕̚͘͘͘̚͘̚̚̚̚͝͠͠͝͝͠͝¢̷̡̡̢̧̧̡̨̛̛̛̛̛̖̼̟͓͈͉̯̼̹̰̘̰̤̙̫̭̬̜̰̪̞̹͎̲̬̣̻̪͎̰̟̜̗̥͚͇̖̗̩͈̦̦̠̤̲̫̖̤̤̲͋͒̅̅̀͌̃̄̃̈́͑͛̄́̐̈́̋̑̎̐̒̒̋̀̍̔͐̋̾̊͐̐̿̏͗͂̊̒̓̈́͗̒̈́̐͒̍͒̀̊̎͌͌͒͐̐̈́́̓̄̓̃͒̅͋̿̂̾̎̑̾̃́͆͑̃̈̓̿̊́͊̀̀̆̿͐̀͆̈́͂̇̓͋͐̈́̑͑̐̐̉̈́́͌͆͗̈́̓̎͒̔̄̃̈́͗͆͑̋̈͛͐̈́̐́͊̆̓̎̈̈́̂́̈́̅̓̇̎͐̿͌̇͑͛͐̍̊́̈́̑̈́͒͆̈́̈̓̇̈́̈́̿̑̆̑̂͊͊͋̈́̕͘̕̚̚̚̚̚͝͝͝͠͝͠͝͠͝ͅͅͅḉ̷̧̢̢̧̨̨̧̨̨̢̛̛̬͕̺͙̻̞͕͓͉̳̜͍͕͎̺̳͚͍̺̙͉̟̹̰͍͉̲̝͙͓̣̻̺̯͖͖̺̤͚̬̦̻̗̹̟̬͚̙̰̟̮̜͙̖̭̞̠̰͎̪͇̯̮̖̗͓̠͎̹̬̺̬̙̞͎̥͔̱̞͖̞̦̝̜͙̠̰̫̳͔͙͔̣̘̯̣̠̗̬̼͉͖̼͇̟̟̞̣͈̙͖͉̥͚̱̙̼̖̖͇̬̼̲͍͓̰̫̙̠͓̟͈̣̬͖̞͕̝̣̫͓̣͈̭͉͎̺̱͖̱̳͚͉̗̯̻̑̑́̑͗̈́̊̊͛́̎̽̀͊̀͂̽̓̓͊͐̒͗̋̽̑̈́͂̓̽͑͋̍̎̾̑͂̓̌͊̀̐̅̀͋̉̈̈̂́͆̂͗͌̉̎̀́͂̋̍̔̆̉̋́͆̂̊̀̑̾͑̐͊̊̈͐̔̀͂͘͘͜͜͜͜͜͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͠ͅͅͅͅz̵̨̡̢̢̨̧̡̧̧̛̛̛̛̛̛͓̥̘̣̝͙͖̱̳̹̦̜̪̫̲̹̖̳͓̭͈̦̘͓͚̗̩̦̦̠̬̬͚͎̤̝̖̲̮̤͙͙͓̤̪͓̩̮̖̼̙̪̫͙͖̙̖̹̭̬̞̯̝͍͍͍̠̠̦͎̼͓̦͇̱̥͙̞̠͓̗͉̲̝͇̺͇̲͉̺̞̺̺͔̤͓̠̖͐͌̽̅͑̊̊̄̋̍̔́̾͂͒͌̈́͂̔̐̀̓̆̓͆̀̑̋̈́͆̓̾́̌̈̀͗͋͋̐̾͋́̅̈́̃́̓͋̈́͋͒̽̐͛̈́̌̄͗̃̓̾̾̇̐̇̾̽̉̊͌̌̂̀̂̾̉̍͒̍̐͋̂̐̄̌̌͗͐̂͑̊̂͂̐̓͌̃̾̇̒̇͆̅̄̅̀̐͆̍͒̅͆̌̒̍̆̔̈́̉̾͂͒́̃̾̊́̿̔̀́̂͆̾̐͒̾͗̀̑̀͊͑͛͊͆̅́̏̍̇̚̕̕̕͘̚̕͘̕̕̕͜͜͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅớ̵̡̡̧̧̧̢̧̧̧̡̛̛̛̛̛̯̦̩͔̺̻̳͔̬͕̭̱̳̰̳̟̣̲̭̥̥̣͙̠̯̦̗̜͙̺͕͉̤̼̲̝̖͇̲̦͈̼̬̘̣̜̜͎̝͔͎̼̭͔̭̩̳̤̞̜͔͙̪̤͕̲͈͍͇̜̖̩̫͍͕̺̠͖̬͍̭̅́̓̈́̂̒͛̅͊̀́͑͐̇̑̽̐͛͒̒̓̈́͆́̌͑͑̏̅̇͆͛̾͐͋̃͂̌͌̄́̑̍̔͑͊̒͛̀̔͊̂͋̌͆͛̆́̽́͒̿͛̽̑̍͒͆̉̈́̎̃̍̈́̈́̅̉͊̈́̆͆͑̉̽̕̚͘͘̕̚̕̚̕̕̚͜͜͜͠͝͠ͅͅͅ╪̶̢̡̨̡̢̧̢̧̨̢̨̧̡̨̧̡̨̨̨̡̨̡̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̙̫̬̲̩͓͍̟̮͎͎̬̖̮̰̤̞̹̖̭͉̤̻̺̤̼͔̥̫͔̮̟̳̠͓̼͎̠̩̮͚̫̰͇̥͉̙̘̣̫̫̗͉̞͔̳̤̯̟̜͍̦͔̪̝̺̫͈̝͇̟͍̤̺̱̼̯͇̙̤͉̣̖̹͍̯͚̝͓̪̯̠͍̻͎̠͎̣͚͚̲̤̱̪̬̗̜̘̻̘̗͖̺̣̰̳̠͙̦̲̘̙̟̥̰̭͖͉͎̲͔̜̰̰̣̜̝̱̗̙̯͕̠̲͇͇̟͔͈̗͎̩͔̼̹̙̱̬̭̜͍̬̦̙̯͔͎̥͉̘͈͖̝͈̺̈́̿͊̒́́̍̓̃̈́̐̀̌́͊̓͋̈́̓͒͊̓͛̏̌̈̊̔̆͐́̀͂͂͌̇̓̈́̊̀̈́͗̑̇̾͂̊͐̿̎̂̄̃̑̀̉͌̀̇̈́̃͋̀̊͛̇̿̓̍̔̃͋̒͒̈́͊̈͌̊́͊̽̿̐͐͊̀̋̇̓͊̍̏̃̎̈́͗̆̑͑̄̑̍́̒̏̏͐̒̀̄̌͒͊̒͗͋̔̎̉́̅̑̌̎̉̓̅͛͆́̋̉͑̐̉͘̚̚̚̕͘̕̚̚͘͜͜͜͜͜͜͠͝͝͝͠͠͝͝͝͠ͅͅͅͅͅᾳ̴̢̢̧̡̢̧̡̡̧̧̨̢̧̨̡̧̡̢̧̢̧̨̨̛̛̛̤͖̣̭̞̲̼͇̭̙͓̟̦͎̜̼̹͉̥͍̖̙̥͖͖͎̱̻̯̟͖͎̥͚͙̬͔͙̝̝̪̭̝̫̦͓̯̺͓͇̳͇͓̭̪̖̘̤̺͍͉̭̩͚̣̫̮͚͎̗͉̖̭̞̪͇̻̠̹͕̝͈̤̙̺̖̞͎̦͚͎̣̗̘̯̪̯͇̰̣̲͚̙̹̫̲̭̝̭͎̰͇͔̠̤̦͔̦̲͕͇͔͓̘̙̰͉̙̞̙͈̥͚̥͙͍̥͕̫̫͚̙̪̬̝͕̻͓̫̯̫̰̲̝̤̳̞̜̗̫̱̜͇̖͉̺̖̞̣̟̙̭̬̮̱̖̜̜͖̉̾̅͋̔̆́͑̿̊̈́̇̀̌̄͂̍͊́̿̿̓̾̒̇͋̓̐͑̾̀̂̅͒̒̆͊̓̋̅͂͌́̆̀͌̒̿̈́̄̀̇̽̓̐̒̑̾̾̊͂́̄̇͐͗̌͐̆́̄̈̃̇͗̽́̒͗̌̄́́͂͋̌̉́̾̽̕͜͜͜͜͜͝͠͝͝͠͝͠͝͠ͅͅͅͅͅͅ₧̴̧̨̧̨̧̨̧̝̪͚̺̥̫̱̝̳̫̻̹̰͍̳͔̖̬̫͇̱̥͚̳̳̜͈̦̦͓͓̰̯̮̭̟̻͂̐̓̿̄͑̃̾̍̐̋̿̄̄̀͆̂͆̈́̉͛͂̽̈́̃͑͐̈́̀͆͆͗͒͆͋̈̒͑͂͗͆̅̽͐̇̊͆̋́̄̍̋͐͑̎͐͒͒̈́̈́͗̓̔̎̋͋͐̽͊͐̓̈́͂͗̂̇̄̊̇͋͊̒͊̌̄̆͑̓̋̐̎̌͒̄́͋̏̌͊͊̿̊̕͘͘̚̕͘͘̚̚͝͝͠͠͠͠≈̶̧̡̨̨̡̧̨̢̨̛̛̦͍͕̗̼̯͔̳̬̞̥̩̻̥̫͚͉͉͕̜͍͓̠̹̻̟̤̹̬̯͓̳̩͉̱̜͓̭͉̩͙̮͍͕̳̣͕̻̘̟͇̤̯͔̝̩̹̬̟̣̝̲̼̳͕̳̖̝͙̱̜̅̒̔̔̽̎̑͐̏̽̆̾̈̀͆͛̋̈́̓̇̔͆͊͂́̓̀̓̃̑̿̊̽͛́̒̅̍̃̽̈̉͐̊̓͐͐̐͌̈́̀̓͒̋̄̎̋̿̓̊̈́̄̉̊̏̾̀́̾̌̏͒͒̔̏͗́̾͛̓́͆̉̉̃́͛̿̍̓͗̿̓̿̑̐̈̃͛̓̏̚͘̚̕̚̕͘̕͝͝͝͠ͅ
Appearance: e̶̤̺̤̬̫̲̤̮̤̞̠̘͖͐̀̃̂̆̈̏͜͝͝ͅř̴̘̦̗̹̥͔̟̞͑̔̑̅͆̚͘͜r̴̅͆͒̋͛͂͜ơ̸̯̙͖̮̮̯͉̗͍͚͂͌̌̓̐̀͒́̌̓͆̕̕͜͜ȑ̷̡̮̃͑̌̇̾̀͠
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̢͈̜͕̥͚͎̺̜̠̺̞͍̹̱̀̌͌̌͆̀̀̀̈́͛̔̏̄͂͑͊̍͗͘͝͝͠͠ỳ̸̛̛̛̛̛͕͕̍͛̈̊̈́́͊̓͋̉̉͆̾̐̌́͗̔̍̆̆́̑̈́̉̄̒̑̽̉͆̈́̒̿͒̓̿̅́̒͗̌͑̍̋̃͌̓̍̈́͐͆̅͋̉͊̽͛̈́͆̋̀̈́̎̄͛̄̅̀̈́͐̈̎̂̉͆͌̌̄̊̊̋̄͐͊̎̈́͗͑́̃͂̽͗̇̒̈̂̽̑̇̇̒͒͒̊̅̈͊͛̌͌̂̐̒̾̈̑̾̃̎̄͋̚̕̚̕̕͘̚̚̕͘͝͝͠͠͠≤̶̨̛͓̭̭̮͕̯̲͎͙͇̫̣̜̙̪̰̳͍͍̹͎̽͌̇̂͗̎͗̎͛̽̄̿̈́͌̀̀̉̃̎͌̃̊̽͐̂͌̓̕̕̕͘͝͝͝͝f̵̧̧̧̨̡̧̨̛̛͚̠̱̯̯̯̮̤͚̟͚͙̪̮̭͇͚̹̰͉̫̯̫̻͔͈̼̮̱͉̻̭͈̮̣̹̬͇̮͉̙̼̞͇͖͇̬͚̤̝̰̤͇̬̺̫̗͚̗͔͔̗̩̪̱͓̹͍͓̬̝̰͈̲͈̝̺͇̺͈̲̟̀̒̾͊̾̊̎̆̍̎̍̎̽̆̋̈́̏͂͌͒̓̈́̾̔́̅̉̀̒͋̔̑͌̏̊́͆́̌̉̉̀͗̽͘̕͝͠͝͝͝y̸̢̨̧̨̢̢̨̡̨̨̛̛̛̛̛̛̛͔̮̘̬͓͈̟͙͇̲̹̤̝̘̠̺̭͇̺̞̘̝̜͉̻̙͈͙͎̦̗̫̻̩̠̲̯̮̮͈̻̰͕͎̳̞̤̼͎̗͇̻̥̜͍̞̱̞̲̭̦̹̠͙͇͔̳̥̫͚͈̣͉͈̗̣̼̤̻͙̗̱̰̗͇̩̩͖̝͇͎̰̟̺̱̅͆͊̆̃̄͗̌̅̍̔̒̉̃͐̋̄́̇̇̀͆́͐̈́͊͊̈́͊̈́̌̉͂͐̃̽͂̃́̄̀̀̇̈́̉̈͌͋̔̋͒͌́̑̔͒̊̈́̈́̔͛͛̒̐͒̈̎́̀̽̀͐͋̅̊̈́̎̀̾͛͑̆̋̆̒̂̄͊̊̇̀̀̂̆̾̈́̓̄͛̐͗̄̎̍̍̍̌͌̌͐̌̈́̾̇̀̀͂̿͐̏̑̍̑̄͂̊̆́̌͑̽̐͋͐̎̌̚̚͘̕͘͘̕̚͘͘͜͠͝͝͝͠͝͝ͅǫ̸̨̢̛̛̛̳̮̪͇̹̠͚̳̗̫̘͇̰̞̫͖̟͉̬̺͕̫̰̼̹̥̤̠̹͖̱̜̝͈̭̹̥̯̣̩̪̫̝̮̝̩̭̞̪͉̱̗͔͚̼̦͇̳̯͍̥͕̂̓͐̾͛̐͋̄̑̽̄͗̒̆̄̑̾͑̈̓̑̍̒̒̂̓̄́̈̓̔̈́́̓̐̈́̃̎̈͐̏͂̀̓́͊͒͒̎̒̃̀̃̇͑̅͗̌͗͊̂̈́͂̀̀̾̓̈́͂̈͒̆͌̌̓̎̇̈̽͐͛̃̓̓͒̏̑̋̓́͊̿̏͗̀̎̅́̋̍͗̚̕̕̚͘͘͘̚͘̚̚̚̚͝͠͠͝͝͠͝¢̷̡̡̢̧̧̡̨̛̛̛̛̛̖̼̟͓͈͉̯̼̹̰̘̰̤̙̫̭̬̜̰̪̞̹͎̲̬̣̻̪͎̰̟̜̗̥͚͇̖̗̩͈̦̦̠̤̲̫̖̤̤̲͋͒̅̅̀͌̃̄̃̈́͑͛̄́̐̈́̋̑̎̐̒̒̋̀̍̔͐̋̾̊͐̐̿̏͗͂̊̒̓̈́͗̒̈́̐͒̍͒̀̊̎͌͌͒͐̐̈́́̓̄̓̃͒̅͋̿̂̾̎̑̾̃́͆͑̃̈̓̿̊́͊̀̀̆̿͐̀͆̈́͂̇̓͋͐̈́̑͑̐̐̉̈́́͌͆͗̈́̓̎͒̔̄̃̈́͗͆͑̋̈͛͐̈́̐́͊̆̓̎̈̈́̂́̈́̅̓̇̎͐̿͌̇͑͛͐̍̊́̈́̑̈́͒͆̈́̈̓̇̈́̈́̿̑̆̑̂͊͊͋̈́̕͘̕̚̚̚̚̚͝͝͝͠͝͠͝͠͝ͅͅͅḉ̷̧̢̢̧̨̨̧̨̨̢̛̛̬͕̺͙̻̞͕͓͉̳̜͍͕͎̺̳͚͍̺̙͉̟̹̰͍͉̲̝͙͓̣̻̺̯͖͖̺̤͚̬̦̻̗̹̟̬͚̙̰̟̮̜͙̖̭̞̠̰͎̪͇̯̮̖̗͓̠͎̹̬̺̬̙̞͎̥͔̱̞͖̞̦̝̜͙̠̰̫̳͔͙͔̣̘̯̣̠̗̬̼͉͖̼͇̟̟̞̣͈̙͖͉̥͚̱̙̼̖̖͇̬̼̲͍͓̰̫̙̠͓̟͈̣̬͖̞͕̝̣̫͓̣͈̭͉͎̺̱͖̱̳͚͉̗̯̻̑̑́̑͗̈́̊̊͛́̎̽̀͊̀͂̽̓̓͊͐̒͗̋̽̑̈́͂̓̽͑͋̍̎̾̑͂̓̌͊̀̐̅̀͋̉̈̈̂́͆̂͗͌̉̎̀́͂̋̍̔̆̉̋́͆̂̊̀̑̾͑̐͊̊̈͐̔̀͂͘͘͜͜͜͜͜͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͠ͅͅͅͅz̵̨̡̢̢̨̧̡̧̧̛̛̛̛̛̛͓̥̘̣̝͙͖̱̳̹̦̜̪̫̲̹̖̳͓̭͈̦̘͓͚̗̩̦̦̠̬̬͚͎̤̝̖̲̮̤͙͙͓̤̪͓̩̮̖̼̙̪̫͙͖̙̖̹̭̬̞̯̝͍͍͍̠̠̦͎̼͓̦͇̱̥͙̞̠͓̗͉̲̝͇̺͇̲͉̺̞̺̺͔̤͓̠̖͐͌̽̅͑̊̊̄̋̍̔́̾͂͒͌̈́͂̔̐̀̓̆̓͆̀̑̋̈́͆̓̾́̌̈̀͗͋͋̐̾͋́̅̈́̃́̓͋̈́͋͒̽̐͛̈́̌̄͗̃̓̾̾̇̐̇̾̽̉̊͌̌̂̀̂̾̉̍͒̍̐͋̂̐̄̌̌͗͐̂͑̊̂͂̐̓͌̃̾̇̒̇͆̅̄̅̀̐͆̍͒̅͆̌̒̍̆̔̈́̉̾͂͒́̃̾̊́̿̔̀́̂͆̾̐͒̾͗̀̑̀͊͑͛͊͆̅́̏̍̇̚̕̕̕͘̚̕͘̕̕̕͜͜͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅớ̵̡̡̧̧̧̢̧̧̧̡̛̛̛̛̛̯̦̩͔̺̻̳͔̬͕̭̱̳̰̳̟̣̲̭̥̥̣͙̠̯̦̗̜͙̺͕͉̤̼̲̝̖͇̲̦͈̼̬̘̣̜̜͎̝͔͎̼̭͔̭̩̳̤̞̜͔͙̪̤͕̲͈͍͇̜̖̩̫͍͕̺̠͖̬͍̭̅́̓̈́̂̒͛̅͊̀́͑͐̇̑̽̐͛͒̒̓̈́͆́̌͑͑̏̅̇͆͛̾͐͋̃͂̌͌̄́̑̍̔͑͊̒͛̀̔͊̂͋̌͆͛̆́̽́͒̿͛̽̑̍͒͆̉̈́̎̃̍̈́̈́̅̉͊̈́̆͆͑̉̽̕̚͘͘̕̚̕̚̕̕̚͜͜͜͠͝͠ͅͅͅ╪̶̢̡̨̡̢̧̢̧̨̢̨̧̡̨̧̡̨̨̨̡̨̡̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̙̫̬̲̩͓͍̟̮͎͎̬̖̮̰̤̞̹̖̭͉̤̻̺̤̼͔̥̫͔̮̟̳̠͓̼͎̠̩̮͚̫̰͇̥͉̙̘̣̫̫̗͉̞͔̳̤̯̟̜͍̦͔̪̝̺̫͈̝͇̟͍̤̺̱̼̯͇̙̤͉̣̖̹͍̯͚̝͓̪̯̠͍̻͎̠͎̣͚͚̲̤̱̪̬̗̜̘̻̘̗͖̺̣̰̳̠͙̦̲̘̙̟̥̰̭͖͉͎̲͔̜̰̰̣̜̝̱̗̙̯͕̠̲͇͇̟͔͈̗͎̩͔̼̹̙̱̬̭̜͍̬̦̙̯͔͎̥͉̘͈͖̝͈̺̈́̿͊̒́́̍̓̃̈́̐̀̌́͊̓͋̈́̓͒͊̓͛̏̌̈̊̔̆͐́̀͂͂͌̇̓̈́̊̀̈́͗̑̇̾͂̊͐̿̎̂̄̃̑̀̉͌̀̇̈́̃͋̀̊͛̇̿̓̍̔̃͋̒͒̈́͊̈͌̊́͊̽̿̐͐͊̀̋̇̓͊̍̏̃̎̈́͗̆̑͑̄̑̍́̒̏̏͐̒̀̄̌͒͊̒͗͋̔̎̉́̅̑̌̎̉̓̅͛͆́̋̉͑̐̉͘̚̚̚̕͘̕̚̚͘͜͜͜͜͜͜͠͝͝͝͠͠͝͝͝͠ͅͅͅͅͅᾳ̴̢̢̧̡̢̧̡̡̧̧̨̢̧̨̡̧̡̢̧̢̧̨̨̛̛̛̤͖̣̭̞̲̼͇̭̙͓̟̦͎̜̼̹͉̥͍̖̙̥͖͖͎̱̻̯̟͖͎̥͚͙̬͔͙̝̝̪̭̝̫̦͓̯̺͓͇̳͇͓̭̪̖̘̤̺͍͉̭̩͚̣̫̮͚͎̗͉̖̭̞̪͇̻̠̹͕̝͈̤̙̺̖̞͎̦͚͎̣̗̘̯̪̯͇̰̣̲͚̙̹̫̲̭̝̭͎̰͇͔̠̤̦͔̦̲͕͇͔͓̘̙̰͉̙̞̙͈̥͚̥͙͍̥͕̫̫͚̙̪̬̝͕̻͓̫̯̫̰̲̝̤̳̞̜̗̫̱̜͇̖͉̺̖̞̣̟̙̭̬̮̱̖̜̜͖̉̾̅͋̔̆́͑̿̊̈́̇̀̌̄͂̍͊́̿̿̓̾̒̇͋̓̐͑̾̀̂̅͒̒̆͊̓̋̅͂͌́̆̀͌̒̿̈́̄̀̇̽̓̐̒̑̾̾̊͂́̄̇͐͗̌͐̆́̄̈̃̇͗̽́̒͗̌̄́́͂͋̌̉́̾̽̕͜͜͜͜͜͝͠͝͝͠͝͠͝͠ͅͅͅͅͅͅ₧̴̧̨̧̨̧̨̧̝̪͚̺̥̫̱̝̳̫̻̹̰͍̳͔̖̬̫͇̱̥͚̳̳̜͈̦̦͓͓̰̯̮̭̟̻͂̐̓̿̄͑̃̾̍̐̋̿̄̄̀͆̂͆̈́̉͛͂̽̈́̃͑͐̈́̀͆͆͗͒͆͋̈̒͑͂͗͆̅̽͐̇̊͆̋́̄̍̋͐͑̎͐͒͒̈́̈́͗̓̔̎̋͋͐̽͊͐̓̈́͂͗̂̇̄̊̇͋͊̒͊̌̄̆͑̓̋̐̎̌͒̄́͋̏̌͊͊̿̊̕͘͘̚̕͘͘̚̚͝͝͠͠͠͠≈̶̧̡̨̨̡̧̨̢̨̛̛̦͍͕̗̼̯͔̳̬̞̥̩̻̥̫͚͉͉͕̜͍͓̠̹̻̟̤̹̬̯͓̳̩͉̱̜͓̭͉̩͙̮͍͕̳̣͕̻̘̟͇̤̯͔̝̩̹̬̟̣̝̲̼̳͕̳̖̝͙̱̜̅̒̔̔̽̎̑͐̏̽̆̾̈̀͆͛̋̈́̓̇̔͆͊͂́̓̀̓̃̑̿̊̽͛́̒̅̍̃̽̈̉͐̊̓͐͐̐͌̈́̀̓͒̋̄̎̋̿̓̊̈́̄̉̊̏̾̀́̾̌̏͒͒̔̏͗́̾͛̓́͆̉̉̃́͛̿̍̓͗̿̓̿̑̐̈̃͛̓̏̚͘̚̕̚̕͘̕͝͝͝͠ͅ

Name: Gale Thompson
Age: 22
Favorite Activities: Online Gaming and Harassing You
Occupation: Night manager at Holiday Express
Appearance: Short, slightly chubby but obviously muscular, Gale would probably have been a cute guy if he had known what to do with his facial hair or fashion. With a moustache straight out of the 1880's and a love of sweater vests, you'll admit he gets looks. Just . . not the good ones.
Your step brother from Dad's other marriage. It was weird growing up with Gale. He was always a loner and ended up spending more time with you and your friends then with any friends of his own, but it wasn't like he was a bad person. It was probably growing up with his Dad alone that made him the way he is.

Name: Lilly Armstrong
Age: 17
Favorite Activities: Singing and ḑ̵̛̛̥̝̦̟̫͈̼̱̬̳̗͚̈́͝ͅŗ̸̧̧̪̝̙̣̜̝̱͈̖̻̺̭̤̟̰͙̘͎̮̺̟͕͔̙̗͓̦̫̯̟̞̰͇͙̹̗̭̩̪̜̯̈̾̃̓̒̊̌̏͂̇̐̀̃̾̀͛̽̏̎͌͐̿̀̐̇̈́͗́̒̏̑̇͐̈̐̐̈́̒̿̋͆̒̍̈́̇́͌̂̆̀͋̂̕̚͘͜͜͝͝͠͝ͅí̶̢̡̨̛̛͖͕͕͍̝̳̤͍̝͍̰̙̗̞͚̝̣̳͔͙͎͖̝͎̻̮̰̥̱̼̳͕̈̉̈́͐̃̉͗͗͆͛̓̿͑̎̿̂̔́̓͒̈́͋͂̒̋͌̐̃͆̒͗͆̂̎͆̾̉̚͜͝͠͝n̶̢̨̡̛̛̛̝͕͕̫̻̠̮̬̤̫̬̝̬̩̬̼̘͔̞̪̟͎͚̥͕̹̭͙̩͎̟͖̞̗̤̤̰̪͚̯̭̗͎̠̻̻̯̹͔̜̈́͌͂̏̉͒̀̆̃̎̈́͌̍͗̿̆̓͌̆̀̍̀̈͒͒̿͊̔̿̋̐̃̍͛́̀͐̌̇̌̅̃̋̑̚̕͘̚̚͘͘͜͠͝͠͝ͅk̵̢̛̳͚̭̜̖͖̣̭̙͖̳͎̖̣͕̙͑̂̊̔̉̃̄͋͌̀͌̇̽̒̂̇̾̓͑͑͆͐͆̃̃͊̔͛̍̈́̓͒̌̐̋͆͌̓̓͆̔̅̉̍̿̈̈́̂̒͌͠͝͠ͅị̴̡̢̨̢̧̖͚͖̤̖̣̺̞͍͕̖̯̹̖̠̝̥̖̫͍͙̰̭̭̪͎͉̝̭̪͔͉͚̹͔͉̍̿̄͑̓͆̐͒̆̄̊̏́̂̀̾̐͛̈́͑͐̑̒͆̀̇̆̀͋̽̈́̀́̃̏̀͑͛͑̂̀́̉̐̒̈͋͌̄͘͝͠n̷̥̩̺̩͍̼̺̍͒́̋̒̀̓̽͛͠ͅg̷̛̳̺͙̳̙͕̏̈́̊̓̆̃̓̆̑̔̓͛̈̍̈́͂̄̀̎̏͋͐͘̚̚͜͠
Favorite Subject: Biology
Appearance: Tall, black, fierce. With an afro kept short and staggering blue eyes, Lilly held a crowd's attention on stage and off. You wish you had half of her skill with a makeup brush. Or, well, any brush. Henna tattoos always covered her exposed skin on her arms and neck, tailored to her outfit.
Thought by everybody to be naturally lucky, you know better than to make those assumptions. Lilly put her everything into being the singer and dancer that she was, and although she had a bad home environment, she made it all work. At some point, she sacrificed herself to form a sort of magical seal on you that you still don't fully understand. The seal is gone, and in its last words she told you she was dead, but you know there is still something out there in America pretending to be the Lilly that you've loved.

Japanese Teachers

Name: Hana Fukunaga
Age: ??
Occupation: High School Teacher
Appearance: Around 170cm, she has an average height and an average build. Wearing a handkerchief like a scarf, something about her just screams that Soviet-pioneer aesthetic. Her two long, blonde braids don't help with that either.
When you look past her over dramatic tendencies, she seems really nice. . . sometimes you think she doesn't put enough thought into how her actions affect others, though, as the show in Literature today suggested. She did offer you a lot of help, though.

Name: Mariazinha Maki
Age: ??
Occupation: High School Teacher: Home Ec, Portuguese
Appearance: A Brazilian bombshell, she'd be more at home on a runway than in a classroom. She's lean, tall for Japanese standards and has two very long black braids.
You don't have anything against her as a person, but she barely speaks Japanese and that's making it really hard for you to understand her class.

Name: ?? Ito
Age: ??
Occupation: High School Teacher: Physics, former nuclear physicist
Appearance: He's a crazy old man. Wearing joggers, flannel and a baseball cap, you liken him to that one crazy great grandfather Momma never let you talk to back home.
Evidently, he is the adoptive father of Namiko. Though he doesn't seem to have been in the same home as her, it's clear from memories you now have that are not yours that the two of them were incredibly close.
This man is INSANE. How does he have a license to teach?

Name: Hyeon-seung Rhi
Age: 23 ?
Occupation: High School Teacher: Gym & Phys. Ed
Appearance: A kind young man, wearing a bright red track suit. He's Korean, and probably just five years older than the students here.
He's nice, and apparently friends with Miss Fukunaga. You're worried, though, that he might not fully understand the situations that he's trying to help in.

Name: ?? Sakurai
Age: ??
Occupation: World History
Appearance: An old lady with a boy's haircut, stress lines under her eyes and stress lines across her forehead.
A devil amongst the other nice teachers of the school, you fundamentally do not understand how she still has a job.

Japanese Students

Name: Rika
Age: 17 ?
Occupation: ??
Appearance: Only 158cm, but she carries herself with an attitude far larger than her body. Brown eyes, brown hair that's always kept in a sloppy bun and obvious marks of sleep deprivation mark her from the crowd.
You don't know her that well, but she helped you find your way to class on the first day of school. You guess you can look past all of her attempted gang signs, because she seems like a pretty good person.

Name: Aku
Age: 17 ?
Occupation: ??
Appearance: Awkward, lanky and nervous. He's cute, but his lack of social skills keep him from being cute. Evidently, he can lie with absolutely no tells.
You feel a little bad for him. As he tells it, he's known everybody, been friends with everybody and been cast aside for it. You don't know how he feels about you, but after Literature and World History today, you're not willing to make any quick judgments of him.

Name: Tatsuya
Age: 17 ?
Occupation: ??
Appearance: He's cute, tall for a Japanese guy, and he has a really kind smile. You can't help but make eye contact with him when you look at him, and you could lose yourself in those brown orbs.
You were worried that he might have a low opinion of you because your first interaction was him noticing you staring at his ass when you were trying to figure out why there were pencils sticking out of his pocket, but he really seems to be a genuine and warm person.

Name: Monika
Age: 17 ?
Occupation: ??
Appearance: Eye-height with Miss Sakurai, but shorter than most other people in the class. She has pink hair that looks natural and two piercing blue eyes. Her build is athletic, and you're sure if you asked Moe about her, you could find out more.
She is the epitome of "fight the system," at least in this school. It's not something that you normally agree with, but when it's in Sakurai's class, you think you can approve.

Name: Moe
Age: 17 ?
Occupation: ??
Appearance: Aside from her black-eye, this girl is notable for her incredible athletic build. She could crush a pumpkin between her thighs. She wears most of the school uniform, though you can tell she's replaced the white t-shirt with a compression shirt.
She's a good person, as far as you can tell, and you think she'd get along really well with Lilly. She's invited you out to lunch and really seems like she cares about making things up to you.
The perfect angel that will n̵̡̢̤̳̗̻̬̦̟̹͕̤̣͚̤̦̥̘̺͑́̔̂e̸̡̨̧̢̗̲̗̫̜̬͕̙̖̯̰͉͖͚̟̖̍̉͑̀̇̆̑̈́͆̂́̎̊̓͊̉͝͝v̸̛̛͙̳͚̲̥̦̌͗̎ë̵̡̧̨̧͔̠̤͍͖͔̺̠͓̟̯̩̻̪͇͙̺͕̪̍̿́̈̄ͅr̶̫̻͔̝͙͉̣̒̋̇̓̓̇̉̆̋̉ ̶̡̙̣͙͕͕̠͚̘͇̖̹̼̤̻̩͍̣̯̳̟͍̃̑͐̇͒̈̿͑̃́̆̌̐͂̿̆̋͗̉́̇̂̚͜͝͝ͅb̴̧̧̦̳̤̘̼͎͙̮̟̱̻̲͎͕̫̱̗̳̲͌̄̅̋̉͑͊͊̀͆͜͜͠ȩ̶̛̪̲̲̥̯̤͓̣͙̼̫̖͍͎̣̯͎̞͍͌͑͒̔̿̊͆̅͗̽͋̍ͅ ̶̧̨̧͓̙̟̮͔̣̼͚̮̺́̽͑̒͛̾́̌̃̾͊̍̉̄̈͘͘̕͠ỹ̵̧̧̢̛̛̭̲̹͚̣͔̿̈́͆̽̔̑̔̓͐͂̍̆͐͆̉̂́͊͊̔͝͠ó̶̡͇͕̭͕͐͂̈́̈́̈́̋͐̏̒̓́́̾̋̚̕͝͝ų̶̼̯̺̥̳͓̮̻̞̰̗̹͍̺̻́͒̎̈́̋̾̒͗͘͠ͅŗ̴̧̨̡̳̝̘̰͓͍͔͕̫͕̣̈͐̔̉̌̑̀̐̾̓͑̂̾͂̎̕̚͠ͅs̵̢̢̰̮͉̞̖̝̫̰͚̺̣͖͕̜̦̬̲̠̃͆̇̓̍̓̔̇̈́́͂́̅̔̋̚͝.

Name: Kojii
Age: 17 ?
Occupation: Head of the Film Club
Appearance: He's the spitting image of your brother, Gale, though Gale's bad fashion sense and love of sweater vests is replaced by school uniforms that have undergone slight modification to include little cut outs of anime characters around the hems.
You tried talking to him. All he did was talk over you and go on and on about his favorite movies and fan theories. He's a nihilist and representative of the worst types of internet opinions.

Name: Kaida
Age: 17 ?
Occupation: ??
Appearance: A giantess among the Japanese, Kaida stands at a towering 195cm -- almost 6'5" in Imperial -- and seems to know it. She walks with purpose, talks with purpose, and does not hesitate. Her hair is proudly kept in a strawberry-blonde pixie cut, and you can see the start of a tattoo on the nape of her neck.
A demoness in flesh who stole your guardian angel and turned everything you lived for to ash and ruin.

Supernatural

Name: Namiko
Age: 17 ?
Species: Human / Magical Girl
Occupation: Magical Girl, librarian's aide, head of the Robotics Club
Appearance: The most notable things about Namiko are her striking blue eyes and her tight black bun of hair. She has a very polished look, and while she's not jawdroppingly beautiful, you can tell that she takes pride in her appearance.
When she lets Ozymandias' power take her, a shield of radiant chain mail armor forms around her. She becomes an angel in the flesh, with a sheen of beautiful and dazzling light across all of her unarmored form, and near infinite lances of holy fire move to her beck and call.
When you first met her, she seemed a bit spastic. You know a bit more about why now. An orphan and a child soldier against the demons and the dark things in the night, she had a very black and white view of the world and the people in it. Even though she brought you back from the dead, she was unable to come to see you as anything but a monster.
Now, mauled most of the way to death, she rots in a hospital and you're unsure if she will ever recover.

Name: Ozymandias
Age: Timeless ?
Species: Lich ?
Appearance: Ozymandias takes the form of a fat white cat, with eyes that glow red with holy--or unholy--fire. His form is entirely an illusion, however, and at will he can turn to a being entirely of white and red flame. He has massive control over his form when he releases his illusion, able to shape himself into weapons, armor and more.
Though introduced to you originally as a female cat named Oz, you knew that he was something more than that. He is one of the few things in the world that has actually killed you, and while you used to wish for that, it is not something you are thankful for. He seems to be destroyed now, and you have drank his phylactery and presumably absorbed what remains of his soul.
Still, you can't help but feel some part of his soul lives on. . .

Name: ???
Age: Timeless ?
Species: Lich ?
Appearance: In the same way that Ozymandias takes the form of a fat white cat, the black cat takes the form of a lithe and agile black kitten with small nubs of bone visible between her ears. Though you haven't seen her release her form like Oz does, you have seen her shrink and expand her form into that of a great and awful black panther. In combat, she's able to call forth powerful discs, shields and bubbles of emerald energy, the same emerald-color as the fire that burns where her eyes should be.
She's made no introduction to you, but she seems to have helped Namiko recover -- though she is also responsible for Namiko's later mauling. She tricked you into stealing Ozymandias's phylactery and convinced you to drink it, and in the moments after, she defeated Oz and Namiko and fled.
She also stole all of your money, though she has left you a bag and a letter in return.

Guiding Bolt · Jan 9, 2018

Winning vote:
[x] Nellie Thompson
[x] Physics
[x] Half of the appliances around the house are either hand-made, or at least tinkered with
[x] Lilly Armstrong

===============

It had been a really long time since I last had to walk to school. Must've been . . 5th grade? . . when Momma started driving me to school instead. The middle school was a little farther then the elementary, Momma said, and she just . . huh. I trailed off. This was a really useless train of thought, Nell.

I definitely didn't mind the walk, though. The city here was beautiful. Even the apartment Momma had found shun with this rustic Japanese charm and brought out this nostalgia of a time I had never lived through. There were red and black tiled roofs, the walls were white and picturesque, fences tall and--inviting?--and the porches of other apartment complexes covered in fairy lanterns and charms. The sun was shining, and though a car would whiz by every minute or so, it didn't disturb the natural quaint and peace of the area.

There was a group of people some fifty feet ahead of me, heading the same way I was. I had only been in Nomizu for a week, but I'd walked the path to the high school a couple of times, so I was pretty confident in my assumption. Besides, it looked like they were wearing backpacks. Should I catch up to them . . ?

[ ] Run and catch up to the group. You can never start making friends too early.
[ ] Keep the slow pace. It's important to enjoy the little things in life.

==

It didn't take too long for me to arrive at the schoolyard and head in through the gates. There were a lot of people here, spread throughout the schoolyard; people sitting down and talking to eachother in the grass, people on sculpted rock benches just off the pathways, even a few people playing tennis on a small court in the distance. It was overwhelming to watch . .

Then I smiled. Huh. I guess it wasn't so different from America. A girl had just gotten hit in the face with a tennis ball and was now trying to jump the net, swinging her racket widely at the perpetrator. Yeah. Not so different. It was just high school.

The school bell began to ring. All around, people started lazily getting up and lining in front of the school doors. There were ten rows of people before the doors, and I could see an elderly woman way at the front calling something out. It took me a second, but--these were probably gradelines, split by gender. I hurried to the Junior line . . well, what I hoped was the Junior line . . and waited. Somehow, I wasn't the last person in line.

A short girl with a floppy, tall brown bun ended up behind me, rubbing her knuckles against her left cheek and yawning. Then she raised an eyebrow at me. I realized I was staring, shook my head and turned away from the girl. She yawned, loudly, and I glanced back from the headmistress? I think? who was giving her speech to the brunette. She was doing something with her hands, but I couldn't--wait. I blinked. That was a gangsign. She was flashing me with a Bloods gang sign? Wha . . what?

It was gone as soon as I realized what it was. She winked at me. I was staring again. She pointed to the front and I blinked, before quickly turning back around to face the headmistress.

I really wish I could've paid attention to what she was saying, but she was talking too fast and I couldn't read her face for cues. I got some of it, I think, but my Japanese just wasn't good enough to understand the majority of what she was saying, and while I did feel a little good at the words I did understand . . it was trying to make sense of the white noise between TV stations. It just drove me mad. My gaze drifted away from her and I started glancing over the people around me.

Bloods-girl was behind me. To my right was a junior guy who had something in his ears. Earbuds, though I didn't see the cords. Maybe they were some of those new Apple dongles. I squinted. No. No, those were just ear plugs. I looked away from the tall ear plugs-boy to the guy on my left. Presumably an underclassmen, I noticed his pocket was overflowing with pencils and other school junk. I blinked. He didn't have a backpack on, or any school bag that I could see. His other pocket had a calculator halfway flopped out of it, and I could see his backpockets were also loaded with school supplies. I couldn't help but frown. That did not look like a comfortable situation.

As I was taking notice of the school supplies in his back pockets, he looked over at me. I didn't notice at first, until I had looked away from the collection of erasers, pens and other junk and back at his face. His face had blushed and turned to an awful shade of red. Mine did too and I hurriedly looked away to the only person I hadn't really looked at. The girl in front of me. She was tall. Way tall. The tall guy with the ear plugs was like 180cm. She was closer to 190. Her bag, a burgundy sack that fell down and covered her back, glinted with small buttons that had been sown onto it. Wait. The buttons were in English. I smiled as I read through them.

Question Reality! I'd Ship It! Kennedy '68! Another button that was just a corgi's face. The Japanese flag. One in French that I didn't recognize.

I looked up from the backpack and glanced at the girl's hair. She had a strawberry blonde pixie cut, and I could see a little bit of black ink on the nape of her neck? Okay. Committed to memory. She probably spoke English. If I needed help later, she was probably one of the better options to go and find. Oh! She was walking now. I started too. Suddenly we were all inside, and people were dispersing and I very quickly realized I had nowhere to go. Um. . .

The headmistress was still outside. I could follow after one of the people who I had seen earlier and hope that they led me to the right place? Or I could catch up to one and ask for help, maybe? Both the junior girls seemed like they'd know English. .

[ ] Follow after Bloods-girl!
[ ] Follow after Buttons-girl!
[ ] Follow after Supplies-boy!
[ ] Follow after Ear plugs-boy!
[ ] Wait for the Headmistress. . .

===============

Will update profile with info on Nellie. Did you want Thompson as her father's last name (which she wouldn't be using frequently, because she took her Momma's last name of Irvine), do you want it as her middle-name or do you want it hyphenated (Thompson-Irvine)?

Hopefully y'all enjoyed the update, if anything seems too ridiculous let me know / if I'm not covering some area in enough details, let me know about that too. Thank you! : )
edit: initial Important NPC info done.

Guiding Bolt · Jan 9, 2018

Winning vote:
[X] Keep the slow pace. It's important to enjoy the little things in life.
[X] Follow after Bloods-girl!

=======================

As much as I wanted to be caught by the Headmistress looking clueless on the first day of school, and believe me I do, I'd rather . . anything else in the world, really. I catch sight of a bun flopping and hurry on after it, and as luck would have it I manage to merge back into the crowd and blend back in. No lectures today.

I catch up with her and she turns, glancing at me. Then she shrugs and turns back to walking, letting me fall into step next to her. Alright. Progress. At least I looked like I knew where I was going now. Which I probably should have . . figured out already. But. That's the past.

"My name Rika. Great pleasure to know you." I blink and turn over to the brunette. Rika. I turn over to Rika. Broken as it is, hearing her speak in English is refreshing. She's looking at me expectantly, and now a little worriedly, and ohgosh I'm just staring and haven't responded yet--

"Hi! Hi. Hi, Rika." I stammer. Stammering is not a good look. Okay. Breathe, Nell. My tone softens. My words lengthen. Calmness. I reply in Japanese. "It's nice to meet you, Rika." Her eyes are doing that thing where they start to squint, but don't quite squint yet, and it's all the worse for it and ohgosh what did I forget to say this time--"Oh! Oh. My name's Nellie, but my friends call me Nell. Call me Nell. Sorry. Long day."

Long day? It's not even 8:00 . . Rika yawns and then nods. "Yeah. Long day." We're coming to a stop now. A lot of the other students are in class already, but there's still some huddled around lockers or talking outside of classrooms. There's probably another minute or so before class begins. "Homeroom 213 or 217?"

Oh. Wait. I remember Momma talking about that now. "217," I reply. She points me to a room down the hallway.

"Okay. You'll have homeroom with Fukunaga. She's weird, but you're weird too, so she'll probably like you. Ask her to look up your schedule for you." I nod. Okay. This is all reasonable.

I start to thank Rika and she's already halfway gone to her classroom. I call out "thank you!" after her, and she flashes me a thumbs up in resp--No. Nope. That's not a thumbs up. She had a little trouble, but I can now clearly tell that's a Crip symbol. And this girl was calling me weird?

I hurry over to Room 217, and as I step in, I hear the school bell starting to ring again. Great! I'm not completely late. There aren't many open chairs in here. If I hadn't gotten here so late, I probably could've sat by that super tall girl, but with all my delay it looks like I'm going to be sitting in the front. I grab a seat in the front as soon as I can, turning an awkward red as I realize everyone's eyes are on me.

A minute passes, and I realize there's no teacher in the room yet. Some people in the back are starting to talk quietly. I glance around. I'm sitting between a girl on my right and a guy on my left. The girl has just over shoulder-length viridian green hair and is tapping away at her cellphone. I . . I've never met someone who green hair has suited as much as it suited her, honestly. It looked almost natural on her. Her eyebrows, too, they had this green tinge to them. I looked away before it could be considered staring and took note of the boy on my left.

He instantly reminded me of Gale a few years ago. He had that chubby-fit look to him and that aimless stare in his eyes, had his chin resting on his palm like he was some sort of Greek philosopher and smelled vague enough that it was off putting. Donald Trump could walk in front of him and I doubt he'd notice. I sighed and slumped a little bit in my chair. Okay. Homeroom. High school. I had, in the excitement and the rush of getting here, forgotten how mind numbingly boring this place was.

The next two or three minutes dragged on in front of me. I glanced behind me and saw a messy bob of black hair sleeping on the desk behind me. Further in the back, tall-girl was talking with an athletic-looking girl sitting next to her. Wait. The girl sitting next to tall-girl had a black eye. I really wish I knew what there names were. Black-eye-girl must be the girl who was playing tennis earlier. Probably . . or maybe there's just more violence here then there was back home. I shivered. That's a scary thought. Ever since the election, it had gotten . . bad . . down where I lived. Part of the reason why Momma agreed to move overseas. Well, that and the whole Dad thing. Mostly the Dad thing, I guess.

Oh. I guess--now was basically freetime, at least until the teacher got here. I slid my phone out of my pocket. Lilly's probably worried sick. I've barely texted her at all these past few days because of how anxious school has been getting me. I should . .
[ ] Snapchat her. Our friendship may be strained, but our streak numbers will not be!
[ ] Send her a text.
-[ ] Write in text. Limit 80 characters.
[ ] Wait for a better time. Class could start at any minute, after all.

. . .

Finally, I hear something other than the voices of the girls in the back. Heels on stone. Miss Fukunaga, or at least, who I assumed was Miss Fukunaga, was standing in the door. A short woman with two long blonde braids, a peppy smile and a blue handkerchief around her neck, she entered with a wave and a call. "Ah! A good morn and a good morning to all of you, my wonderful class of 2018! Wait-- what's that!"

With an exaggerated and dramatic step, she moves forward into the classroom, sniffing the air. "Ah! It is only the smell of success, coming forth from all of you!" Then, she shields her eyes and darts behind her desk.

"Oh, but what is that! What shines so bright that I dare not look forth?" Dramatic pause. "Oh! It is but the bright light of your future, pouring forth upon me!" She removes her hand from her eyes and oh my god those are sunglasses--

She is in front of me. "Oh, but who is this! A star, but not the star of the Rising Sun! Come forward, western star, and sparkle for class to see." Her hand is reaching out to me. The worried look on my face tells her all she needs to know, and she pulls back.

"Ah! No, no, my mistake. I should not seperate you all from your peers. For today, you are not where you came from! You are not your family," she makes eye-contact with someone in the back, "nor are you your techno-whatsits! You are not your height, nor your wounds, nor your past mistakes or even your greatest failures. Today, and everyday here in our great school, you are all my beautiful pupils, and you are all welcome to come forward to partake from the bountiful bosom of knowledge." She's sitting on her table now, pushing her sunglasses off of her eyes and into her blonde hair. She winks at me. At the class, maybe? Hopefully not just at me.

"My name is Hana Fukunaga, and it is truly wonderful to meet all of you today. I won't make you come forward and do icebreakers like your teachers of the past might, but I would deeply and truly love to come to know each and one of you students. At your own pace, please come forward to introduce yourself to me so that I can mark you down for roll call. I trust that you can all come forward as volunteers in an orderly fashion, but if you can't, well. ."

Suddenly, the kindness on her face was gone. The lights in the room seemed to go dark. She smiled at us all with bloodstained teeth and I could see the white rings beneath her eyes.

". . well . . then that's okay too!" The room was back to normal. I shuddered. Being that this was the first day of school and a homeroom, and that it didn't look like miss Fukunaga was going to be doing any major introduction, it looked like I had some free time available for me. I could try to introduce to someone else in the room, I could text Lilly or Gale . . at some point, I'd need to go forward and talk with Fukunaga about my schedule too.

What do I do . . ?
==============

Choose up to four options for this one, preferably in order of how you want to do them. Unless you choose to talk with her earlier, you'll talk with Miss Fukunaga as the class ends.

[ ] Introduce myself to . . .
-[ ] Tall-girl
-[ ] Black-eye-girl
-[ ] Gale's clone
-[ ] The girl on my right
-[ ] Miss Fukunaga
-[ ] Write-in

[ ] Text someone
-[ ] Gale
-[ ] Lilly
-[ ] Momma
-[ ] Write-in. Another friend from home, maybe?

[ ] Take a nap. This counts as all of your options.
[ ] Write-in. Ask about your write-in and I'll say how many of the four options it counts as.

=======

Unsure of how well this one came out. Some of the characters are meant to be over-the-top, but I might have overdone it a little bit. As always, thanks for reading! : )
edit: NPC lists updated also!

Guiding Bolt · Jan 10, 2018

Winning votes:
> Snapchat (x4)
> Tall girl (x5)
> Black-eye girl (x4)
> Gale's clone (x4)
> Girl on my right (x3)
==================

I pull my phone out, prop it up in front of me and take a quick selfie. A few flicks through the filters later, I've found one for the town. Sure, it was in Japanese and Lilly wouldn't be able to read it, but . . that's fine, right? She'll get the picture. I send it to her and Gale then put my phone away.

It doesn't look like anyone around me really cared that I was on my phone, though for a second I thought I saw the girl next to me take her eyes off of her phone to look at me and mine. But, seeing how she's practically glued to hers again, that was probably just a trick of the light.

I yawn and slouch a little bit more in my chair. Well. Back to waiting. . .

==

With Miss Fukunaga finished and taking a seat at her desk rather than on her desk, I glance around the room again. A lot more students have their phones out now. A few have taken out some books and are starting to read those. In the back of the room, black-eye-girl has pulled out a tennis ball and is spinning it between her fingers. Okay. Well, I guess that settles that.

Deciding that I should really go and introduce myself to some people in the room, I head to the back corner of the room where tall-girl and black-eye were sitting. The two of them stop as I approach, and for a moment I stop to, before blushing a little before continuing over towards them. Tall-girl leans back, while black-eye pops the tennis ball back into her bag.

"Hi," I start, smiling at the two of them. Black-eye is bored. Tall-girl is giving me a chance, but she's bored too. Just introducing myself probably won't work. "I, uhm, saw the buttons on your bag! The ones in English. Pretty cool!" Okay. Bad start. They're still looking at me like I'm an alien. Which is okay. Aliens are interesting at least. They haven't decided I'm not worth acknowledging yet. "And, uh, I just wanted to introduce myself. Since I thought, well, you speak English, Americans speak English, I'm American, I speak English--"

"Stop." Tall-girl cuts me off and narrows her eyes. "I'm going to give you some free advice, just this one time, because I can tell you need it. It's in your best interest that you forget you ever lived in that shit-hole of a country and start licking the boots of some real people. Find yourself some idiots to suck Japanese culture off of until you're passable as some weird shut in." She was going to keep going, but black-eye girl cuts her off.

"Kaida . . a little easy with the newgirl, alright? It's not her fault-" Her interjection, too, is cut off. Tall-girl's face twists into a snarl.

"Not her fault? I don't care if it's not her fault. It's not the Hitler Youth's fault that Hitler's in office, doesn't make them better people for following along with it." She pulls a hand up to her hair and flicks it back behind her head. "But yeah. Americana. You'd better take my advice. Stop with this American-nonsense. I'm not the only one here who knows people that've died from your leader's idiocies." It's clear that Kaida is censoring herself to some level now. If black-eye hadn't interjected, she probably would've actually went off on me. I shudder a little bit.

Kaida is looking away now, and I move away from the table quickly, trying to hold in all of my emotions. I don't know what I did to deserve any of that . . there's a hand on my shoulder.

Black-eye is looking at me, with a frown on her lips. She opens her mouth to say something, then instead hands me a piece of paper. Her phone number is scribbled on the paper. I look at her again and she's trying to force a smile. "I'm sorry," she mouths, then heads back to her seat next to Kaida.

I crumple the piece of paper and pocket it, going to sit down at the front of the class again. Fuck . . today had been going so well, to. All the color was surely gone from my face. Anyone who saw me might mistake me for a banshee, might mistake my voice for a cry or deathknell. Why did she have to say those things? Today had been a good day. But now, sitting here, when I had just wanted to introduce myself and come into this new world . .

I just wish I could leave. Go home. Call Lilly. Cry . . anything that wasn't here. Anything not this. Why was this affecting me so much? She was mean, but people have said worse things to me before and it hasn't hurt this much. I didn't know her. I didn't agree to let her decide my emotions. I didn't agree to let her tear me down like this.

I close my eyes to hold in tears and sniffle. I rub my knuckles against my nose. I wish I was wearing a coat so that I could slink inside of it and be safe from what was going on around me. I wish I was home. I wish I was dead. Anything that meant that I wasn't here. My breathing is a little choked. I'm going to make a scene soon if I don't get this under control. I just . . I . .

"Kojii." The voice pulls me out of my stupor.

I look to its source on my left. Gale's clown is offering me his right hand, while his left hand pushes some of his scruff and bangs away from his eyes. He tries to smile at me, and although the expression is a little creepy, I'll take it. I grab his hand and go to shake it, but he squeezes instead and then lets my hand go. Confused, I start to pull my hand back.

Kojii is staring at me now and not really saying anything. I can tell he's deep in thought. After a moment, I start to speak--"Hi. Um. Nellie, but most people call me Nell."
As I speak, he speaks. His accent is awful, but his attempt at English at all is applaudable. "Wazzup!" Okay, maybe not applaudable . .

He throws his chin back and gives me his largest, goofiest grin. Then he throws in a peace sign for good measure. I wipe my eyes and try to smile back, but . . all his attempt at English did was remind me of the tall-girl--Kaida--and her words. His grin goes back into a frown.

"Oh . . erm, it's a reference to this old American movie. You might not have heard of it, I guess, it's more of a niche film but the artistry in it is on point. The next generations will probably venerate it as a classic of American horror." He's starting to talk too fast now. I'm trying to keep up, to focus on something other than Kaida's words. "It really does a good job of briding the gaps between genres. The way that the Mr. Wayans effortlessly creates a classic is admirable. When I'm older, I want to be a director too. That's why I'm head of the film club here on campus. Which you'll join, right?"

He doesn't give me time to respond. "It's faaascinating. We watch classic like Mr. Wayans all the time. Oh! I should tell you the name of the movie, right? That'd help. I'm sure you'll remember it when you hear the title. It is definitely one of the archetypal American horror stories that really sets the stage for every future work. Honestly, most horror films of the 21st century are best understood as derivatives of Wayans' genius. I'm rambling, aren't I?"

Again. There's no time for me to respond. "Okay. Okay. I'll get to the chase. This classic is from Scary Movie which is a must-see to understand the genres of slasher, horror and comedy flicks in America. I'm surprised a girl your age hasn't seen it yet, though I suppose you would've been born just after it originally came out. I guess I'm sort of a hipster for liking such an old movie. But it's truly a classic. If you haven't seen it sometime, I am definitely willing to lend you it. It is a God-given right to watch good films like that one."

I open my mouth to respond, but he's talking again. "Oh! I'm sorry. I'm forgetting to explain the scene. Right. Well. Ghostface, who is the bad guy, who is like a big dude in a black cloak with a ghost face, which I guess is why they call him Ghostface, it'd be, uh, confusing if they called him the Engineer or something. Oh! Right. The Engineer, is, uh, another amazing villian, from the Hellraiser franchise, which has so many movies and they're all so good. Which, I guess, I don't know why they call him the Engineer when he doesn't really do any engineering, something like the Puzzler might've been more in line with what he does as a character but anyway yeah so Ghostface is chasing this girl named Cindy,"

I can't follow him anymore. At all. He's talking too fast and his words are slurring a bit and I don't know what is going on. Something has sucked the soul out of me and left a stupid husk here today, unable to do anything right, unable to make any real friends, and I just wish it was over.

"Well, anyway, the scene that I'm referencing has Ghostface making a phone call to this black dude. And while they're on the phone call, making small chat and whatever, this other dude walks into the room and he just belts out WAZZUP! And it's, hey, it's really funny, and other people just start calling it out too, and then everybody's just calling out wazzup--"

Finally, someone interrupts him. "Kojii, nobody cares." The voice is from my right. I slide back in my chair so that Kojii and the girl can see each other. Hopefully they'll talk to each other and I can melt away.

"Hey--hey! Nellie cares! She loves American film, right, Nellie?" He's looking at me for approval now. I just wish I was anywhere other than here.

The girl on my right glances at me. "Don't let this kid pull you into his fantasy world. I might not know you very well, but I know that you don't want that." The look of concern on her face seems genuine.

I . . .
[ ] I side with Kojii. I can't keep up with everything he's saying, but it's definitely interesting to me.
[ ] I side with the other girl. If I'm going to let myself be bossed around, it's going to be by someone other than Kojii.

====

Class is about to end. I carefully stand up, walking over from my desk to see Miss Fukunaga. She smiles at me.

"Ah, come forward my shining American star! Welcome, welcome to my class. How do you like the city?"

"It's okay." I don't give her much more than that as a response, still hurting from earlier in the period. She seems to notice something is up and frowns.

"Okay. Today's not your day, hun? That's quite alright. I've got you marked down for attendance. If you ever want to talk, just know that I'm here, okay?" Gone is her flair for the dramatic from earlier. On her face, I read genuine worry and curiosity.

"Schedule," I force out. "I never got my schedule today." She nods and quickly hands me a sheet of paper from her desk, laminated and with all of the room numbers highlighted. She gives me that kind smile of hers again. I feel a little bit better as I head back over to my seat.

Sitting down, I look over my schedule for a moment. My next two classes of the day are . .

Pick two. If you have a preferred order, please say so.
[ ] Literature. God, I'm not looking forward to a literature class in Japanese.
[ ] Biology. I should be able to do this. Momma says they're a year behind in the biology curriculum.
[ ] Physics. Easy A. Hopefully the class itself is interesting, though.
[ ] PhysEd. Well . . at least there's not much talking there, yeah?
[ ] World History. Oh no. Not this, please not this.
[ ] Home Economics. I was looking forward to this class. Learning how to cook might make me closer to Momma.
[ ] Write-in class.

=====

there's the update! I'm not great at dialogue, so pointers on how to improve dialogue and make people seem more human, while still keeping the exaggerations on their personality, would be appreciated. Will update the NPC profiles with the new information on Black-eye girl, Kaida and Kojii.
As always, if there's any questions about something, feel free to ask me. Thanks for reading! : )

Guiding Bolt · Jan 10, 2018

Winning vote:
[X] Side with Kojii.
[X] Physics
[X] Home Economy
================

"No," I say, finally, looking at the girl on my right. "I mean, no, he's okay. I enjoy it. I like American films." I'm not sure if I fully believe myself, but I am sure that's the sound of joy coming from Kojii. The girl picks her phone back up off of her desk and shakes her head.

"Well. Don't say I didn't warn you," she replies, and then she is instantly lost in her phone again. I'm about to say something more, stick up a little bit more for Kojii and my own ability to make decisions, when another waterfall of words is coming from Kojii's mouth.

"Yes! I knew it! Ah, a kindred spirit at last. You do not know how long it has been since I've found someone who enjoys proper American film! Sure, there was Rika and her friends in my club, but all they care about is westerns and action flicks! I can tell you are a man of culture. A man of true, honest works of film and literature that implore you to search through your soul and see what holes are within it, then bind those holes with the bravado and inspiration only a good movie can give you!" His voice slowed down. "What's your favorite movie, Nellie?"

Well, if I'm being honest, I always preferred anime over American film . . but looking at him, it'd break Kojii's heart to say that. I open my mouth to reply.

"Oh, no need to speak. I can see it on your eyes. You like a good, hard flic about a dashing young hero, a charming bruiser with grit and a pursuit of glory. But not just a fighter, you prefer a man with guile. Intrigue. With a glass of liqour, a glass shaken, not stirred. The movie's Bond. James Bond." He grins. I'm blinking. He's still grinning.

I've never seen a James Bond movie before, but before I can object to that, he continues. "Although, it is a travesty what they are doing to the franchise. Allowing a black James Bond . . what a crazy concept. SJWs, you know, sticking their fingers where they don't belong. Another piece of good film going to be completely ruined by their inclusion. I don't know why they didn't just take the Atomic Blonde approach, you know," he says, then huffs. "Although, considering how piss poor that movie was, I guess I see why. It's a good example of what I mean, though. They had the makings for a cool spy movie, but they wasted so much time on representation that it just ruined the whole thing."

That warrants a reply. I start to speak, but he just keeps talking over me. "You look more like a Garbage girl though. Back in the good old days of James Bond. I can tell, yeah, you're the kind of girl who the world really isn't enough for. Which is good. High standards, they're a sign of high moral character." He trails off. Finally, a chance for me to get a word in--

"I'm, uh, not sure if I agree with everything you're saying. I think James Bond--" but I can tell it's futile. He's already talking again.

"--was already an overused franchise. Yeah, I agree. That's the problem with sticking so much to imitating the classics though. Sometimes you get some real bangers, but a lot of the time you just end up with derivative nonsense that nobody but the microcosm of a fan base that the SJWs are enjoy. It's the same problem with the new Star Wars movies. None of the characters have any appeal to them, none of the characters make any sense--I mean, a black stormtrooper? That's ridiculous. That's the sort of stupid fanfiction that gets you barred from any respectable Legends posting board. What's your favorite Legends character?"

I've never looked into Legends. I'm not even entirely sure what that is. "Well, I," should've known better then to start, as he's already talking over me again.

"Hah! Trick question. Yeah, I know it's Grand Admiral Thrawn. Who else is there to pick, even? Everyone else is just the sort of lame wish fulfillment that you find in some lowgrade fanfiction. Thrawn, though, he's a real story. Real man. I'm gonna be like him one day." You'd comment, but . . you really don't know what he's talking about, and you know that if you say that, he'll explain it down to you. And that is one daunting prospect.

I stop really paying attention to Kojii while he talks. I glance down at my phone, see a snapchat from Lilly, but I push it aside. I'll get back to her later. It's probably just the same thing I sent to her. Maybe I should've taken that girl's advice. This was some sort of conversational limbo, where anything I said would be talked over, any attempt to raise my voice would leave him reeling and playing victim, and any attempt to leave the conversation would come off as rude. He was still talking at the speed of light, and it was getting to the point where even if I tried to understand him, I'd lost most of the detail.

Somehow, this "conversation" left me more empty and alone than I had felt before. Kaida's words were in my head again. Maybe she was right . . I'd be better off if I just forgot about my life in America . . or, maybe if I just . .

No. Kaida wasn't right. I wasn't going to think these thoughts. I wish I wasn't here. Why couldn't I have been in the homeroom with Rika? All the choices I've gotten to make, where have they led me? Today has been awful. My new beginning has brought out nothing but regret. I should go see a nurse. They'll understand. It's nothing out of the ordinary to be overwhelmed in the first day of school in a new country.

But during the first class period? And not even a real class? I clutched my nose so that I didn't sniffle. Surely I was stronger than this . . I'd moved past all these feelings years ago, hadn't I? Kojii is looking at me expectantly. Did he stop talking? I hadn't been paying attention, maybe he had asked me a real question. "Sorry, I was just . ."

As soon as I spoke, the moment was gone. He's laughing over me now. My gut is turning inside me. Of course it wasn't a real opportunity to respond. Why did I think that he'd have changed?

"You should see the look on your face," he says, between laughs. "What is it about Mel Gibson that gets you so sad, anyway? The Passion of Christ was a work of comedy genius, not something to feel upset over. Ah," he snickers again. His voice is the same as Gale's when he laughs. I cringe a bit more. "Is this some weird American thing? Oh, no, you're religious, aren't you? That'd explain it. Well, religion is stupid. Once you get past things like that, you'll be a lot happier of a person."

He's staring at me intently as he speaks now. "Life's pretty simple once you understand everything. There's no God, there's no Heaven, everything is pointless, including you and all of your dreams, and we're all gonna die soon." He lets out a content sigh. "Doesn't it make you happy just to have that out there?"

I don't respond. It's taking all my effort not to break down into tears here. It's not just what he's saying. I remember Gale saying similar things. It's just . . I wish I could just ignore him and his fake nihilism and everything . . but of all the people today, he's the only person who's really expressed interest in me, isn't he? Is this the type of person that I'll become if I stay here? I can't stand more of this. Class has to be over soon, right?

He's talking again. I don't know why or what he's saying. All I can do is keep myself from caving in now. Slowly I get up from my seat and he looks at me.

"I've gotta, go, talk to Miss Fukunaga," I struggle out, and then I'm gone from my seat. He nods in an understanding way. I feel sicker then before.

==

With the schedule Miss Fukunaga gave me, I make it to Physics quickly. It isn't a class where I recognize anyone, but that makes sense. This is a lot larger school than the one I went to back home. I get to class early, so I'm able to take my pick of a spot. I head for the right side of the room, near the windows, and set my stuff down beside my desk.

Really, I didn't bring that much with me. When we moved here, Momma said I should leave my baggage where it belonged. I had tried to make amends with the people who I had quarreled with before, talked to my old ex and hashed things out. I had left a lot of my past behind me, and I was happy to do that. A lot of the times, at home, especially back when Dad still lived with us, things were rough. Things were worse than rough. I never understood it.

Bring Lilly around the house made it worse. I thought Dad was just being racist, so I tried to confront him on it once. He looked at me like I was some freak, some rotten husk of a man that was just waiting to be killed, and I felt myself crumbling. The hatred in his eyes, the way his lips turned and the way he spat out his tobacco and set it down in front of me. I just . .

When he spoke, when he said *̷̧̢̨̨̧̢̡̨̧̢̢̧̡̡̧̧̧̢̡̡̧̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̻̪̩̥͓̣͙͔̤̯̻͚͚̠̜̣̗̞̝̙͖̼̟̯̙̹̫̣̲̻̥̖̜̤̫̪̰̞̜̼͎͖̱͖̙͍͙̭̳̠͉̺̠͉̣̲̙̩̼͔̺̲̖̹͖̯̞̯͍͖̞̱̜̯̜͕̖̝͖̥͔̩͈̲̪̙͎̙̬̬̗̙̯͙̙̰̭͉̭̺͔̤̩̬̘̖̬͇̱͕̖̦̩̱̙̭͎̗̹͚̟̲̲͇̩̗̺͖̦̱̩͈͕̫̺͙̥͖̻̬̣̥̙͕̝͔̳̱̭͍̘̺̪̱̖̯͙͈̣̗̣̠̗̮͉̟̮̰̝͍̪̽̊̒͐́͒́́̿̽̆̓͌̔̐͛̎͆͑͑̄͌̎͛͗̆̀̇̉͊͂́̆̀̄͊̿͋̐̈̾̇̆̆͂͛̓͌̌̃́́̎͗̽͂̽̈́̀̉̔̓̏̀̽̐̃͛̾̿̎̀̿̆̌̐̓̀̆̌̽͆̓̈̔̿͂͐̓̀͋́͛̋̿̿̓͌̐̆̓̀̃̇̉̊͂̋̃͌̄́̐͗̐͋̈́̽̓́̽͗̃̐̏̈́̍͗̍͒̂́͌̂͐̉̔̉̈̀͛̌͒̂͂̿̉̐̇͌̆̅̆͐̈́̌͋̐́̔̿̐͆̐̔̅̄͛̉̇̐̃̌̆͊́͒̍̔͛̏̈͘͘̚͘̕͘̕͘̕͘̚͘͜͜͜͜͜͠͝͝͝͝͝͠͠͝͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅ├̵̨̡̡̢̧̨̡̨̡̡̨̡̧͈̻̣̲̗͙̣͖͍̱̟̗̠̺̝̞̝̰̗̗͖̻̙̫̰͖̩͚̳̟͙̝̥̻̼̫͙̱̤̯̩͇̬̬̖͔̦̙̜̬͍̣̘͎̗͕̺̘̺̙͓̻̼̲͎̬̣̜̳̯̘̼̪͉̟̤͇̩͔̻̗͙̮̖̝̻̫̣͎̱̝͎̖̲̩͙̻̱̖̰͉͇̗͖̘͎͙̰̭̳̖̬̜̯̩̘̳̝̮͍̭͍͍̗̱͎̘̖̮̘͚̲̺̜̰͙͉̗̙̣͚͙̥͓͔̋̉̃͗̋̏̒̓͗̂͑̃͌̑̕̕͜͜͜͜͝͠ͅͅͅͅñ̸̡̨̨̨̨̢̛̛̛̩̱̱̝̘̳̘̠͕̮̜̭͙̙͚̯̬̟̺͚͔͎͚̮̝̙̖̝̪͓̣̤̼͍͙͚̲̮̱͎̱̮͔̭͕̠̠̣̺́̆̒̂̒͛͋̎̀̑̿͆̒̈́͐͆̔͆̿̏̑̐͛̃̿́̿͗̇́͌̉̍͒̓̀͗̈́̐̎̿̀̈́͗͌̆̅̿̓̀̄́̂̽͛͛̑̃̓̅̋͑̔̽̊̇̀̒͌͗̉͗̈́̑͗̾̉͒̈́͊͊̔̊̍̉̃̿́͗͑͂̀͐̈́͊̓͋͐̈́͂̍͂͂̍̉́͋̒̽̾̎̓̔̉̓̀̍̔̍́̾̌̃̊͛̆͒̊̽͐͊̌̓̀̈́͗͘̚̕͘̕̚͘͜͝͠͠͝͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͠ͅ₧̴̡̡̡̧̨̡̧̧̢̨̧̛̖̯̜̼̠̳̲͇̩̟̻͈͔̟̱̙͕̩̭̤̮͙̥̤̟̭͖̦̣̮̬̻̫͓̟̖̼̰̳̩̫͚̙̞͔̫̖͕̙̭͚͎̤͚̬̖͙̳͍͖̣͙̙̟̦̣̝̦̥͖̤͇͔̭͎̹͖̞̪͙̤͍͍̭̜͍̗̣̫̰̲̘̠̥̟̻̼͖͈̭̬̭̝͓̫̹̥͖̳̗̻̭̞̮͎̘̻̗̞͔̮̮͓̬̖̘̼̭̼͉̟͙͓̙̙͕̟̝̲͔̝̗̻͙̘̖͕̮͖̪̦̠̰̟͓̪̺̣̤̠͕͔̖̻͈̹̯̬̈̓̉͐̽̄̈̄͗́̒̀̈́͆͒̈́̓̿̄̀̂̅̓͛͋̒̀̊̓̈́̈̐͒͗̿̾̉͋͋́̒̊͋́̅͑̅́̍͊͘͘̚̚͜͜͜͜͜͝͠ͅͅͅͅͅͅ{̶̨̨̨̨̧̡̨̡̧̢̧̧̢̛̛̛̛͍͕͈͇̼̲̰̤̱̗̳̟͕̱̱̘͈̜̪̬̜̺͉̭̣͙͚͍̪̞͈͖̙̮̙̳̫̮͕̦̜̙̗͉̱͇̲̥͚̖̮̙͇̟͚̼͔̲̠̫͚̺͕̼͕͙̱̺̙̜̭̥͙͚͎̠̻̥̯̠̠̲̠̲̤͖̯͎̖̰͓̩͍͚͖͕̟̻͈̜̜̹̱͈̞̻̠̞̹̻̲̙̤̦͎͕̟̘͙͈̺͍͉̮͙̯͙̭̲̲̙̝̫̱͕͖̂́̑͗̏̆͌͒͗́́̅̍̑̄̾̏͊̓͗̈́͌́̀̀̆́̀̉̍̀̐̎̾͆̀̑̄͌̏͗̔͒͆̽̈́̄͐̈́̑̈͛̀͆̈́̍̅̑͌̔̑̅̐̋̀̌̏̈́͆͋̇̈̑́́̾͛̑͂̐̿́̍͊̄̽̇̏̈̏̇̓̍̾̂̊̑̇̉̍͌͂́̽͂̆̔̎̋̐̏́̈́̊̔͛̆̀̇͑̄̔̀̂̍͑̾͐̑̐̽́̍́̈́̎̓̏̔̋͗́͑̃́̾̏̍͗́̎̄͗̅̈͆̊̍͂̈́́̔̑̇͂̚̚̕̚̚̚̚̕̚͜͜͝͠͝͝͝͠͠͠͝͝͝͝͝͠͝ͅͅͅͅƠ̷̡̨̢̨̡̨̢̡̢̛̛̛̲̘̮͉̙͓̩̟̯̫͇̠̗͈̥̠̱̲̯̼͔͓̠̖͖̯̖͖̻͙̣̹̥̫͍̰̖̩̠̯̮̩̮̥̬͕̬̗̖̤̗̻̺͖̮̱̣͙̫͎̥͚͓͍̲̰͈̗̫͇̳͙̜̯͉͙̖̠͎̼̥̰̦̤̣͖̠̭̈̈́̔̑̉̓̍͆̾̓͌̿̔̐̔͐̔̇̉̍̃̔̌̄̌́̎̏͗̉̉̄̾̿̋̏̀̀̓̽̇̓̈̒͆̈́͋͊̽̀̉̽̐́͌̒̏̌̈́̒̔̉̽͛̔̔͑̅̊͆̈́͐̿̃̽̑͑̿̇̌̊́͌̊́̎̐̊̿̎͘̚͘̚͜͜͜͝͠͝͠͝͝͝͠͠ͅ╙̵̢̛͈̜͕̥͚͎̺̜̠̺̞͍̹̱̃̀̎͊̾̇̃̑̒̉͂̀̇̆̂́̔̃͆̂̆̀̋͊͌͑̏͐̿̑̂́̀̈́̃̅́͆͂́̀̅͛̀̌͌̌͆̀̀̀̈́͛̔̏̄͂͑͊̍͗͘̚͘͘͝͝͝͝͝͠͠¢̷̡̡̢̧̧̡̨̛̛̛̛̛̖̼̟͓͈͉̯̼̹̰̘̰̤̙̫̭̬̜̰̪̞̹͎̲̬̣̻̪͎̰̟̜̗̥͚͇̖̗̩͈̦̦̠̤̲̫̖̤̤̲͋͒̅̅̀͌̃̄̃̈́͑͛̄́̐̈́̋̑̎̐̒̒̋̀̍̔͐̋̾̊͐̐̿̏͗͂̊̒̓̈́͗̒̈́̐͒̍͒̀̊̎͌͌͒͐̐̈́́̓̄̓̃͒̅͋̿̂̾̎̑̾̃́͆͑̃̈̓̿̊́͊̀̀̆̿͐̀͆̈́͂̇̓͋͐̈́̑͑̐̐̉̈́́͌͆͗̈́̓̎͒̔̄̃̈́͗͆͑̋̈͛͐̈́̐́͊̆̓̎̈̈́̂́̈́̅̓̇̎͐̿͌̇͑͛͐̍̊́̈́̑̈́͒͆̈́̈̓̇̈́̈́̿̑̆̑̂͊͊͋̈́̕͘̕̚̚̚̚̚͝͝͝͠͝͠͝͠͝ͅͅͅḉ̷̧̢̢̧̨̨̧̨̨̢̛̛̬͕̺͙̻̞͕͓͉̳̜͍͕͎̺̳͚͍̺̙͉̟̹̰͍͉̲̝͙͓̣̻̺̯͖͖̺̤͚̬̦̻̗̹̟̬͚̙̰̟̮̜͙̖̭̞̠̰͎̪͇̯̮̖̗͓̠͎̹̬̺̬̙̞͎̥͔̱̞͖̞̦̝̜͙̠̰̫̳͔͙͔̣̘̯̣̠̗̬̼͉͖̼͇̟̟̞̣͈̙͖͉̥͚̱̙̼̖̖͇̬̼̲͍͓̰̫̙̠͓̟͈̣̬͖̞͕̝̣̫͓̣͈̭͉͎̺̱͖̱̳͚͉̗̯̻̑̑́̑͗̈́̊̊͛́̎̽̀͊̀͂̽̓̓͊͐̒͗̋̽̑̈́͂̓̽͑͋̍̎̾̑͂̓̌͊̀̐̅̀͋̉̈̈̂́͆̂͗͌̉̎̀́͂̋̍̔̆̉̋́͆̂̊̀̑̾͑̐͊̊̈͐̔̀͂͘͘͜͜͜͜͜͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͠ͅͅͅͅ. . . I realized what a terrible daughter I was being and apologized. It wasn't his fault that Lilly had some sick obsession with harassing him. I should've chosen better friends. This was my chance. A new start, a new beginning, a new chance to make friends. Sure, it wasn't going so well before, but that could always change.

A girl was sitting down beside me. She had a tight bun and striking blue eyes. I smiled to her and she gave me a hesitant smile back. I glanced away for a moment, waiting for her to finish setting her stuff down. When I heard her sitting down, I glanced back. A hefty Physics textbook sat on her desk, and I could tell it wasn't the one that the school would be giving out. I blinked, before turning to face her more.

"Hi!" My voice was cheerful. I had wiped my eyes at some point, and though I'm sure my makeup was a little bit off, I don't think it was a complete disaster. "I'm Nell," I continued.

She didn't look all that interested, meticulously setting down her pencil bag beside her book and opening it just enough that she could slide a pen out of it. She clasped her hands together for a moment and nodded her head at her work, giving it a broad smile -- then she turned to me. The broad smile was still there. It was motivation. "Namiko. You're the American girl, yeah?"

I nod. I'm going to reply more, but she puts a finger infront of her lip. A bell starts to ring. We both snap to attention at the front of the room. The professor has walked in and he is . . something else. I thought Miss Fukunaga was strange, but this man took the cake. He was in his late sixties at the youngest and was balding -- probably completely bald -- but I couldn't tell for sure because of the baseball cap he was wearing. The school's symbol was on the cap and on the bottom of the brim, and he had taken the liberty to pop up the brim so that we could easily see its bottom. He had round specs thicker than dollar coins and around as wide, which had clearly left marks and rivets across his nose where they usually rested.

He wasn't wearing what I had thought the teacher's uniform to be, either. Instead, he was wearing track pants that managed to sag, a white t-shirt with more than one stain on it and a red-and-black flannel button up. It was not the look I'd associate with a professional, but the class seemed to be okay with it.

As he's making his way to his desk, he's nodding his head and looking around his room. Suddenly, there's a meterstick in his hand and it's coming down on the desk of one of the kids in the front row. The girl almost screams, jumping almost a foot and a half out of her seat. He's snickering in response and pulling the meter stick back up. He's using it like a cane now and standing at the center of the class.

"For those of you who don't know me, I am Dr. Ito. I have been a teacher at this most prestigous academy for twenty five years now, and yet they still manage to pay some upstarts higher than me. Something about 'less concern of lasting mental harm.' Pfah! I have served as a physicist on military boards across the globe, worked with nuclear programs American and Iranian, lectured in Oxford and taught physics at universities in Tokyo. Something about this spec of a town, however, has always drawn me back here, like a maggot to a festering wound."

He paused, sweeping the room with his eyes again. "You will come to know I am a strict, but fair, professor. I find detention worthless, and I will not be giving out. It is the greatest shame that we are no longer allowed to engage in corporeal punishment -- such lessions in the applied physics of pain are now lost to us, forever. Ahh, well." He's no longer in the front of the room.

From behind me, his voice booms. "If I see you on your phone in class, I won't take your phone away. Nor will I read it aloud. I've come to realize there is something far, far worse in my power to do." He's holding some poor boy's phone now and staring down at him.

"And that is to do nothing at all." He drops the phone back onto his desk. "If you do not wish to learn, I will not make you. When your parents complain about your failure and the remedial lessons you will need to take, it will be, as the Americans say, 'not my problem'." He's in the front of the room again, sitting down on his chair. He wheels it over to the center of the room, scanning all of us.

"Do not think that I play favorites. That would imply that I have more than one favorite, and that is ridiculous. Namiko, if you'd please come up front." The girl beside me practically glides out of her chair, quickly making her way to the front and standing beside the professor. "This, students, is who you should aspire to be. Namiko, our decorated Robotics Club president, winner of multiple awards and multiple competitions that I simply do not care about the names of, constant representative of our school in college meetings and local politics, and likely the only reason why this school has an above average GPA."

Namiko is smiling. She's nervous, obviously, but there's definitely some part of her that likes the praise.

"Take a seat, Namiko." She goes back to her seat. "I hope that covers introductions for class. If you have any questions about the material, ask Namiko or one of the other class officers. If, after talking with each of my officers and being advised by each of them not to talk to me, you still seek to ask me a question, don't. If, however, you have an overwhelming urge to bother me . . my contact information is available on your class schedule, as well as on your syllabus. With that said. ."

He looks to the clock. It's barely been five minutes of class. "I don't have a lesson planned for today, nor any further introductions. Meet, make foes, be merry. When it is this time tomorrow, you will be entering a zone that my religious students have described to me as 'hell'."

And then he's gone from the room. . . I don't think this is how you're supposed to teach, but okay. I glance around the room once more. The only person I know the name of here is Namiko, but at some point after I sat down and before class began, black-eye girl came in and sat on the other side of the room. I guess I have some time to kill before home econ.

What should I do? (Pick 3.)
[ ] Talk to . .
-[ ] Namiko.
-[ ] Black-eye.
-[ ] Someone else in the room? Write-in.

[ ] Text someone.
-[ ] Black-eye.
-[ ] Lilly.
-[ ] Gale.
-[ ] Momma.
~~-[ ] Dad.~~

[ ] Take a nap. It's been a long day.
[ ] Try to get a better hold of my emotions. I can't be breaking down like this on the first day.
[ ] Something else? Write-in.

==

[ ] Continue to Home Ec after.
[ ] Skip to Lunch.

==============

Hope you all enjoyed the update! It ended up a bit longer then intended, but hopefully it wasn't a boring read. If the characters are too outlandish / ridiculous, let me know so I can try to tone them down while still maintaining some of their more ridiculous features. Apologies to @araa, as you just missed the cut off point for your vote. Hopefully you're still interested!
As always, thank you all for reading! : )

Guiding Bolt · Jan 11, 2018

Winning vote:
[x] Talk to . .
-[x] Namiko.
-[x] Black-eye.
[x] Try to get a better hold of my emotions. I can't be breaking down like this on the first day.
[x] Continue to Home Ec after.
========================

I smile to Namiko as she sits back down. "You've won science olypmiads? That's awesome, I used to compete too."

Namiko blinks. "Science olympiads? I've never heard them called that," and then her attention is elsewhere, her eyes staring off into space. Huh. A moment passes. She blinks again, and now she's looking at me. "I don't know how similar our competitions are, but yes. I've won several local contests! Well,"

She's trailing off again. I try to pull her back to reality. "Well?"

". . well, I only ever could've done it with Dr. Ito's help. That man is a real genius." Gone, again. This isn't really working out for a conversation.

"Well, um," I start, and suddenly she's looking at me and there's a worried expression on her face. I stop. Did I say something wrong--?

"I'm sorry. I really am. This is going to make a terrible first impression, and I was already doing a pretty good job at making an awful first impression, but I have to go." Her meticulous movements are gone as she sweeps up her supplies, putting them away into her bag. I want to comment, but . . it's clear she doesn't want to talk and I don't want to force her.

She's out of the room already. I guess that gives me some extra time to do the other stuff I was considering doing. I slide my phone out of my pocket and take a look at the snapchat Lilly had sent me. It's her standing next to Ms. Pedretti, the new physics teacher we got last year. There's another snapchat from Gale--he's watching a movie. Mulan. I can't help but smile. We used to watch that movie a lot, whenever Momma and Dad had an argument and we were luckily enough to avoid it. I'm replying to both, because I'm not a monster, when I feel a hand tap my shoulder. I look away from my phone. Black-eye is leaning down beside me, but as I notice her, she gestures to the chair Namiko had been sitting in.

"Do you mind if I sit down?" I don't. She smiles hesitantly and takes the seat, then sets her phone face down on the desk in front of her. I send my last response and set my phone down too, before I look at her and try to smile. "Hi. I'm Moe. I just wanted to, um, apologize for how Kaida was acting earlier and make sure that you were doing okay."

I wasn't doing okay, but I nodded. "Yeah. I'm. . I'm alright." The sight smears of my eye shadow or the faint trembling of my lip must've given me away, because Moe pursed her lips and looked down.

"I just want to start by saying, well." She makes eye contact with me. "I know it doesn't excuse what Kaida said earlier, but she's had a hard time, alright? Ever since the Fiery Cross Reef Incident, she's just, well. ." Moe shook her head. "I'm not going to make excuses for her, but please don't think that what she says represents all of us here. Or that it even represents what's going on in her head. It's the first day of school, and everybody is a little out of sorts."

I let her finish her monologue before I reply. "It's okay. I . . I've definitely been told worse things before." I try to smile at her, but she can tell it's fake. Moe winces.

"Right. Let me make it up to you, okay? My dad owns a deli downtown. Lunches here are open-campus. I'll show you the way, and we can eat there, and we can talk this out and help you adjust to the city better, alright?"

I'm hesitating. I open my mouth to respond, and she does at the same time--but for the first time today, she stops and waits for me to speak. It's refreshing. "I don't know," I finally say. I look away as more worry besets me. She waited for me and I wasted it--but as I blink and look back at her, she doesn't seem to mind.

"Of course. Um. Take your time to think about it, alright? I gave you my number earlier, so just text me at the end of next period what you want to do. If today doesn't work out, we can go another time, alright?"

"Yes. I mean, yeah. Yes." Words are falling out of my mouth. I try to recover. "I mean, yeah. That sounds great. Thanks." I give her that same broad smile Namiko gave me earlier. She puts her hand on her neck, then, and for a moment looks back at where she had been sitting before.

Then she shrugs. "So! How are you liking the city so far? Have you been to downtown much? How does it compare to living in the US?"

"It's alright. I mean, I like it well enough," and I pause, trying to think of how to explain my answer without oversharing. A few seconds pass, and she's still waiting expectantly. I smile. "I guess it's not really that different from home, but it's different enough that everything is exciting again, right?" She's nodding me on. Okay. "That wonder that I had when I first got my car back home and was able to travel the world is back. Everything is so much closer and there are so many different arcades and other things that we just don't have back where I live."

"What part of the States are you from?"

"I'm from Clemson." Blank. "South Carolina." She's thinking. "Um, south-east coast. Between Virginia and Florida, kinda." She nods. "It's nice. I had some really good friends there, and I miss them, but I hope that I can meet some good people here too. A long time ago, my best friend in the world--Lilly--told me that life wasn't where you lived, how you lived or when you lived. It was why you lived and the people you lived for." Moe smiles at that for a moment, then winces. It looked painful.

"I'm going to kill Kaida," she whispers. Then she shakes her head. "Sorry. I didn't want to interrupt you. Your friend sounds really smart--is she our age?"

"Yeah." I'm smiling just thinking about her. "She's not that smart, though. Don't get me wrong! She says stuff like that, but then she goes and, well--she'll go and get lost in a mall for six hours, or. . I remember going to this waterpark with her and she just passed out and slept the entire time that we were there." I miss that. That was a really nice day.

Moe is grinning the same as me. "I've had the same experience. Last year, Kaida and I were lucky enough to see this Broadway-musical in Tokyo. We had saved up for it all year, worked hard, I even let someone else take over the Tennis and Track clubs for a while so that I could pick up extra work--" Moe laughs and shakes her head. "We got there and we both just fell asleep for the entire show."

I stare at Moe for a second and just twitch. "The entire show--that must've been thousands of dollars, I mean, a million yen, to go travel to and see--" She's still laughing and nodding. "And you just--you just slept through it?"

Moe is covering her mouth so that her laughter doesn't disturb the rest of the room. I'm still staring at her in disbelief when she calms down a minute later. "Yeah! Yeah," she grins and another giggle comes out. "It was a really good experience. You don't know how cozy one hundred-thousand yen chairs are."

I cover my eyes and giggle. I can't believe this...

"Don't tell Kaida I told you that," she says, coming back to reality. I nod to her. I don't really plan on talking to Kaida again anyway. "She hates that story. Haates it. I tried to tell her it wasn't a big deal, but she thinks that she wasted all that time for nothing." Moe pauses for a moment, then smiles. "But it's like your friend Lilly says, right? It's not about what you're doing--it's about who you're doing it with."

We exchange more stories about Lilly and Kaida. As much as I hate what she said to me today, Moe's descriptions make it really hard for me not to see some good in her. Moe is easy to talk to, and unlike Kojii earlier, she's someone that I can actually talk to. I tell her about Lilly's victories in track and her skill with discus, and she's ecstatic--discus is her best event in Track and Field. The subject turns to whether or not I ever ran track, or did any sports, and I admit . .

Choose as many as you want. With each chosen, focus shifts a little from Physics to Athleticism.
[ ] I ran Track and Field with Lilly. I was never as good as her in sprints or throwing, but I led the pack in long distance.
[ ] I played soccer with my neighbor Felice. She was team captain and I was her second, the left forward in our unstoppable offence.
[ ] I never played for the school, but Gale taught me how to wrestle and the basics of boxing. I'll leave out why he taught me, for now.
[ ] I tried to play tennis. Ms. Pedretti was the girl's team coach and she wanted me to take on the sport so that I didn't "rot away" in labs all day.
[ ] I was captain on the women's basketball team. If I could dunk, I would've been captain on the men's basketball team.
[ ] Aha, sports, aha--no. I prefer science, thank you very much. (This option must be taken alone.)

====

All good things come to an end, though. Talking to Moe takes up my entire class period and I'm not able to spend that time reflecting and getting my feelings straight like I wanted to. At the same time, I don't know if I need to anymore. Having talked to Moe, I'm starting to feel a lot better about today. The Kaida ordeal hurts, but it isn't taking up my entire mind anymore, and the fact that I have at least one offer for lunch means I won't have to be alone for lunch today. When the bell rings, I get up from my chair and head over to my next class--Home Economics.

I arrive in class early and get my choice of seat again. I take a window seat in middle row of the class and feel a refreshing morning breeze waft over and towards me. It's nice. I stare out through the window, looking at the bright skies, its natural beauty only by the line of skyscrapers on the horizon. It's a similar view as the one from my apartment, and I don't remember how many hours I've spent listening to music and watching the sun set out those windows. A girl was starting to sit down in front of me, and before I knew it, the class bell was ringing.

While Miss Fukunaga and Dr. Ito had taught me not to be shocked by a teacher's entrance, the lesson evidently had not sank in. The woman who strut through the doors to the room was not the Japanese mom I had expected to be teaching this cooking class, but a Brazilian tigress who carried herself with the pride and poise of a model. I could hear the collective snap to attention of the male half of the room as she turned her back to the class and started to write her name on the board.

At least that explained why the ratio for this class was so different than the one for my classes back in Clemson. I just hoped that she was actually going to teach us, unlike the two other teachers I had had today. She steps aside from the board, before speaking -- it's not in Japanese, though. Nor English. Portuguese, I'd assume. She repeats her introduction in Japanese, then, and I can't understand half of it. Her accent is the ridiculously thick. Even if I was a native speaker, I'd have trouble. What I managed to get from her introduction as as follows:

Her name was Missus Mariazinha Maki, but Missus Maria or Missus Maki was fine. She had lived in Japan for three years now and teaches both cooking classes and Portuguese classes. When she was younger, she had competed on the American cooking shops Chopped and Beat Bobby Flay, and though she was not victorious, she still made a good showing for herself. For extra credit in the class, students can watch the episodes she's in and make their versions of the dishes she's made. There's a large section after that that I really didn't understand, and then her introduction is over. She starts to walk around the room, introducing the different kitchen stations.

I know enough Japanese to know that these aren't the right words, though. She's introducing the stations in Portuguese, and I can see areas where both the Japanese and the Portuguese words are written out. This was going to be a painful class. Unable to see her face, I really can't make out what she's saying, but I try to follow along to associate sounds with the script. It doesn't take long for her to get back to the front of the room and sit down in her desk, where she immediately looks down and starts to sort through some papers.

I . . definitely missed something, as everybody is starting to get up and talk. I'm looking around, almost frantic, when the girl in front of me smiles and turns around to me. "Hi! Long time no see, huh?" I blink, and then I recognize her. It's Rika, from earlier, but her hair is different. The sloppy bun is gone entirely, and instead her hair falls in soft curls just past her shoulders. As I realize who she is, I catch sight of the handsign she's making. Bloods. I really have to figure out where she learned all these gang signs.

"Yeah," I smile back. "Thanks for the help earlier. I wasn't sure which homeroom to--" She interrupts me, shaking her head.

"It's really no big deal! I had the same problem when I first moved here. It can be hard fitting in and figuring everything out at first, but you'll figure it out. You Americans are street smart, and when you think about it, school's just another kind of hustle." She dips into English for the last word and grins at me. I smile back, though I'm still a little thrown off by her word choice. She interrupts my thought process. "Anyway, Nell, what sucker do you want to grab to close out our group? I don't know most of these kids."

Oh! That's what was going on -- we were forming into groups. Alright. I scan the room. The only kid I've seen in here before is the supplies-boy from outside, but there are a few other people of interest. There's a girl who looks to be passed out on her desk. There's a boy standing near the corner of the room, occasionally reaching out to groups but always dropping his hand and shaking his head as they walk by. Finally, there's two boys sitting in the back of the room, playing some sort of card game together with their backs turned to Missus Maki's desk.

"Well," I consider. Who should we grab for our group?

Choose one.
[ ] Supplies-boy.
[ ] Sleeping-girl.
[ ] Corner-boy.
[ ] The two playing cards.

====

There's a short meeting with our group, before class is rallied back by Missus Maki. She has some words of encouragement, but I don't understand what they are because she keeps dipping in and out of Portuguese. I might want to see if I can change classes. Rika doesn't seem to be paying attention either, and instead has slipped a piece of paper onto my desk.

Lunch? I can show you the hottest spot on campus.

I take the paper and glance at Rika. Lunch is after this period, and it looks like I've got at least two offers. . .

Choose one.
[ ] Go with Rika to lunch.
[ ] Go with Moe to lunch.
[ ] Sit alone for lunch and try to get your emotions together.
[ ] Write-in.

==================================

There's the update! Was hopeful to get one out last night, but I decided to wait and see if we could get a few more votes in. Ah well. If you have any questions, feel free to ask! I'll update the character profiles with the new information Nell's gotten today. If you spot any inconsistencies, let me know, and as always, thank you for reading! : )

Edit: Fixed spelling error. Don't know how that one slipped past me. Oops!

Guiding Bolt · Jan 11, 2018

Winning vote:
[X] I ran Track and Field with Lilly. I was never as good as her in sprints or throwing, but I led the pack in long distance.
[X] Corner-boy.
[X] Go with Moe to lunch.

======================

I point over to the boy in the corner. Rika shrugs and gets up and together we make our way over to him. He looks us as we're walking over, then looks away, still trying to get the attention of one of the other groups. Then his head kinda droops down. As we're approaching, he steps to the side to let us pass.

I open my mouth to say something, but Rika's already talking. Okay. She's probably better at this part anyway. "Yo! You having trouble finding a group?" He winces. I frown. Okay, maybe she's not better at this. "Well, uh, sorry. It looked like you were. It doesn't matter, though! See, by missing out on those lame groups over there, you've gotten a chance to roll with the coolest group in the class."

For a moment, he seems worried. He looks past us, probably trying to see if there's another group -- evidently there's not, because he forces a smile to us and nods. "Al . . alright. Yeah! Alright." Rika beams at him and leads us back to the side of the room we had been sitting down in. We're the last group to sit down, and as we take our seats, Maki is talking again. The boy is watching her attentively, while Rika slides a headphone into her left ear and starts to tap her fingers on the desk.

She stops talking. He looks back to us and just . . sits there, awkward and silent. I glance at Rika, then at him, then his lip starts to tremble and turn to a frown. I wish I knew what Maki just said so that I could understand the expressions he was making right now.

"Right. Um. We should introduce ourselves," I try. He's still hesitant, but he nods in agreement. "I'm Nell and this is Rika." I gesture to Rika, who pulls her earphone back out and waves a peace sign towards him. He's still obviously uncomfortable, but after a moment he draws in his breath and speaks.

"I'm--don't laugh, alright?" He pauses and looks between the two of us. I nod. Why would I laugh at his name? "Alright. I'm Aku," he finally says, then his eyes immediately look away. Aku? I wonder. Rika's hand covers her mouth and holds in a laugh. In that moment, I can feel Aku's pain.

"Aku?" I ask, quietly. He nods and looks down.

"My, um, my dad's Finnish. Wanted to name me after his dad, and his dad was named Aku, so, I guess," he shrugs, still frowning. "But that's not important. It's just a name, and names are just some silly words that we put too much meaning in, yeah?"

I don't really see the humor in it, and Rika has enough self control to calm herself down. With out introductions finished, Aku explains what it is that we had been asked to do. As a group, we were supposed to assign a group leader and choose a kitchen labspace. Because we had done our introductions first, rather than as part of the group-finding stage like we were apparently supposed to, we were stuck with the last of the open lab spaces. It smelled vaguely of vinegar and poorly mixed spices, and there were more grime stains here than on the other stations, but it wasn't particularly awful.

Just based on our personalities, we agreed on a leader fairly quickly. Rika would be our leader and representative to Mrs. Maki, while Aku and I would do more of the labwork and the actual cooking. I was happy enough with the arrangement, because I knew there was no way I could carry a conversation with Mrs. Maki, and Aku was just happy to not have to talk to more people. I learned fairly quickly that most people who went to the school had met him and been friends with him in the past, but for whatever reason, he didn't have many friends in this class--or in general right now, as he let slip.

. . .

Class was dismissed and I shook my head at Rika. "Sorry, um. Moe invited me to come and get a free lunch down at her dad's deli." For a moment, I can see confusion and pain flash across Rika's face, and I wince, but she's back to her normal self almost immediately. She waves it off and laughs -- some other time, then. I smile. Yeah, some other time. She walks with me to the school lobby, before heading off and muttering something about 'having a good smoke.'

I text Moe immediately, but I still have to wait in the lobby for a little bit. I see Kojii walking through the hallway, but before he catches sight of me, I bend down and pretend to tie my shoes, becoming part of the crowd. When I get back up, he's gone and I let out a sigh of relief. There's some other people I recognize coming and going through the school's entryway, and everybody's talking loud enough that I'm able to drown out my thoughts for a while and just exist. It's a refreshing feeling.

Eventually, Moe comes into sight. My stomach turns a little. Kaida is walking next to her. I should've seen this coming. Maybe I can still find Rika and go have lunch with her. I turn away for a moment, glancing down the path Rika had went down a few minutes back. When I glance back, Moe is on her tip toes and Kaida slightly bent over towards her. I blink. They're both pulling back now, and Kaida turns around and heads down the other hallway. Moe is waving to me and hurrying over.

I smile. "Hey."

"Hey. Didn't make you wait for too long, did I?" Moe asks, smiling at me. Her lipstick is a little smudged. I don't know why I'm noticing that.

"No. No, you're all good." She's still smiling at me, and I blink, and she's gesturing for me to come follow her. I happily do.

"It's a ten minute walk down to my dad's deli," she starts, as we're exiting the school doors. "Normally there's another ten minute wait for your food because of all the traffic he gets during lunch hour, but because I'm me, we'll get our food as soon as we're there. What do you like?"

"Uh, just a sandwich is fine," I quickly reply. Moe walks faster than me, by quite a bit, but it'd be rude if I mentioned that to her and that's the last thing I want. She stops for a moment as I speak, giving me a look.

"Just a sandwich? You're gonna have to be more specific, Nell. Italian, vegetarian, meat lover's, uhm--turkey, ham, ham and turkey--I can list off the menu if you really want," she offers.

"Oh. Vegetarian is fine," I say, finally having regained my composure. She's slowed her pace down, evidently realizing that she was walking faster than my natural. Moe nods to me.

"Alright. Let me just--" her phone's out, "--okay, there. Alright. I'm all yours." Her phone's away. I'm not sure how to restart our conversation, but that's fine, because after noticing my hesitation she starts it off. "Who do you have for your third period? I have Introductory Calculus, which is bad enough, but I think our teacher's new to the subject--he's basically reading from his text book." She shakes her head.

"I hate it when teachers are like that. I have Home Ec with Miss Maki--" as the name leaves my lips, I can hear Moe whispering 'oh, honey. .' "--and she's, alright. She's really passionate about what she teaches, but I'm not able to understand everything she says because of how fast she talks. She switches into Portuguese a lot, which I guess would be cool if I was already super fluent in Japanese, but it's a little hard for me to follow." I look over to Moe and she's shuddering.

"I had her last year. That woman does not know what she's doing teaching. She's a good cook, but. . . I'd try and change classes if I were you. The other Home Ec teacher, Ms. Nishimura, is a lot more down to earth. I ended up skipping most of Maki's classes and sitting in for hers instead last year," Moe laughs.

"Yeah. Maybe I'll do that."

Time seems to fly on our walk. It's nice being able to talk to Moe freely, and the conversation gets to the point where there really isn't any strain anymore. We're just talking, back and forth, the way that friends do. It's a good feeling, and the feeling lasts all the way through our walk down to our arrival at the deli. Like she had said, it was crowded when we got there, but as she walks in one of the workers--her dad, I guess--chucked two wrapped sandwiches at her. She caught them and spun around, and as soon as we were in, we were out.

Moe offered to walk me back up to campus if I was in a hurry, otherwise there was a pond nearby she liked to sit and eat by. I didn't feel any rush, so we went over by the pond. It was picturesque. There were some cherry blossom trees leaning over the pond, with small wooden benches leaned against the sides of the trees. There were large rocks with engraved names on them throughout, and I could see some other groups of two to three picnicking. Eating lunch here everyday . . that must be a dream.

I ask if she and Kaida usually eat here, and she shakes her head. Usually, Kaida and the rest of her friends like to stay on campus and eat in the theatre club room. There's a crepe maker there and a bunch of free snacks, Moe guesses, and it's not nearly as far as a walk. Still, it isn't as pretty up there. I wonder where we're going to sit down, but as if she was reading my mind, Moe has a picnic blanket out and on the ground. We're very close to the water, sitting on the edge where the grass turns to small rocks.

I wonder why Moe had a picnic blanket with her, or if she just always has one with her, but I don't ask. It isn't really relevant. I'm eating my sandwich and watching the water, and she's pulled out a small makeup kit and started covering up her eye. It's enough that I pause and look over at her, watching her start her make up -- for doing it freehand, she's doing very well. Still, I feel a need to . . I offer to help her with her makeup. Moe watches me for a moment, before nodding and handing over her small kit. I'm surprised, really--I probably wouldn't have let her work with mine.

I'm sitting down next to Moe, now, kneeling next to her and covering up the bruises around her eye. Her skin is softer than I thought it'd be, and I can feel each of her breaths against the skin of my arm. It's a quiet moment, neither of us really saying any words as I finish cleaning up her eye. I pull back, then, and she smiles at me for a moment; before she flicks out her phone to check and make sure I didn't mess her makeup up or anything. I almost frown, but it's understandable, isn't it? I'd do the same.

Moe looks up and smiles to me. She's happy with it. She gets up, leaving her remnant of a sandwich on the blanket, and grabs a small rock from the shore. "Did you ever skip rocks as a kid?" I shake my head. It wasn't ever something that came up, I guess, and I never had time to learn. "Okay. C'mon, then--let me show you."

I leave my sandwich behind and stand next to her, picking up a rock. She gestures a few times on the proper throwing motion, before tossing hers out to the water. It bounces once--twice--thrice--four times, then sinks beneath the water. Moe shakes her head. It's my turn, I guess, and I flick mine out too. It bounces, but I turn away and glance at Moe rather then watching all of its bounces. She doesn't seem to notice my shift in attention, instead focusing intently on the rock. "I don't think I have the motion down," I finally say.

"That's the thing," Moe replies, turning to me. "It doesn't really matter how you toss the rock. As long as you get the first bounce, it'll bounce four times, every time. It's what makes it such a fascinating sport. Seeing what crazy throws people do to make those bounces stand out."

There's something wrong about what Moe said, but I'm not an expert, and the blissful smile on her face is one that I would never want to see removed. "I didn't know that," I reply, turning my attention back to the water. Suddenly, her hand is on mine.

"Let me show you, then." She slides a rock into my hand and helps me pull back, her fingers tugging my fingers along in the motion. We pull back together, aim together and release together, flicking out the pebble across the water. It bounces once--twice--thrice--four times-f̵̧̬͖̳̫̖͙͍̙̪͌͒͘̚͜i̵̗̩̰̜͂͌͗̐̀̀̒͌́͘v̴̧̩͔̣͕̖̜̦͕̳͉̜͍͔͒̄̋̀̐̊̈̚̕̚͜e̶̢̢̠̲̥̼͓͇͈͙̟͂ ̵̮͎̬̈̎̀̒̉̎͛́̓̚̚̕͝͝t̸̨̖͈̰̱̰̗̻͓̖̩̙̯̼̍̓̽̾̇̃̇̀̑͆́̾͝ị̷̙͚̟̺̳̣̗͇͎͙͕̩̠͂̎͜m̶̨͈̺̖̥̝̳̫̼͕̺̂̿̀̐̐͛̀̈́́͐̓̒̔̕̕↓̶̨̙̞͖̹̮͚̠͓̹̗̀♣̵͇̝̠̭̜͙̦̜̫͙̈́̃͆͌̔̈́̕►̵̙̞̉̅̃̅̎͜͠

=====

"That's the cool thing about it," Moe replies, turning to me. "It doesn't really matter how you toss the rock. Once that first bounce comes along, it'll bounce four times, every time. It's what makes it such a fascinating sport. Seeing what crazy throws people do to make those bounces stand out from each other."

I feel like I've heard that before, somewhere, but I don't know if I really believed it. It seemed like there was something wrong . . "I didn't know that," I finally reply, turning my attention back to the rippling water. Suddenly, her hand is on mine.

"Let me show you, then." She slides a rock into my hand and helps me pull back, her fingers tugging against mine. We pull back together, and I think I feel her fingers squeeze mine for a second, before we aim and release together, flicking the pebble out across the water. It bounces once--twice--thrice--four times.

I smile as we pull back. She lets my hand go and when I turn to see her, she's on the ground eating her sub again. I sit down across from her and start chewing mine. I don't usually like the taste of cucumbers, but after today, I think I might be more open to them. We eat quietly for a few minutes, her finishing her sub entirely -- I've eaten about half of mine, and I'm beyond full, so I wrap it up for later. She looks almost disappointed, but then she shrugs it off and is smiling again. I wish I could be more like that.

When we finish eating, Moe gets up and starts to roll up the blanket. I look over at the water for a little bit, wondering if there was a little pond like this back home. There were, but I had never stopped by them with Lilly before, never skipped rocks or had lunch by them. Next time I saw her, maybe I should . .

Before I know it, we're back at the campus. Moe has invited me to come join them at the Theater Club after school, so that Kaida can apologize in person and so that I could meet some of the other cool kids in the program. It's definitely something for me to think about, but I don't really know if I can handle another club today. Or another class . . There's a few minutes before lunch is over, but Moe can't help me find my next class. She's going to go stop in by the Theater Club now so that they don't think she's gone rogue or anything.

I understand. She leaves me in the lobby, and as she leaves, I see Rika coming into vision. She's rubbing at her eyes again, which seem a little more red then the last time I saw her, and when she takes note of me she gives me a lazy wave. She starts trying to do the bloods-symbol, but for whatever reason her fingers don't seem able to do it right now--she shrugs and just calls out to me instead. "Heyy, Nell!" I let her catch up to me, and we talk for a minute before she starts to drift off. I'm a little worried by how out of sorts she seems, but I guess there's nothing I can really do about it.

. . .

Some time passes, and I end up in my next period. This was the class I wasn't looking forward to - Literature. I have nothing against it, but learning Literature in an entirely different language is something that I'd prefer not to do. Most of the class is empty, but there are a few faces that I recognize and could go sit down by.

[ ] Kaida. Time to bite the bullet.
[ ] Aku. He could use a friend.
[ ] The girl on my right from homeroom. I never caught her name.
[ ] None of these people. I'll sit in an area away from everyone else.

Is there anything I want to do while I'm waiting for class to start?
[ ] Text. . .
-[ ] Write-in.
[ ] Think about. . .
-[ ] Write-in.
[ ] Fix my eyeshadow smears from when I was sniffling earlier.

=============

And here we are! Hope you all enjoyed the update, though I'll admit it didn't have that much for action in it. This quest is just a normal slice of life quest, though, so I guess it makes sense that there's not much action going on. As always, thanks for reading and I'm happy to answer any questions that you might have! : )

Guiding Bolt · Jan 12, 2018

Winning vote:
[X] Aku. He could use a friend.
[X] Fix my eyeshadow smears from when I was sniffling earlier.

=============

All things considered, I'd rather not sit next to Kaida. Aku seemed like a good enough guy from the few minutes I spent talking to him, and really--I felt bad. Even my first instinct was to poke fun at his name, when I thought more about it, or to ask him why his mother hadn't put a stop to it. But that's the thing. It's obviously something that he'd been dealing with for years now, and it wasn't going to do him any good for me to start poking the wound and asking him how it happened. I'd just be indulging myself in a short term masturbatory fantasy at his expense, with nothing in the end gained and something in the end lost. Besides, it shouldn't matter what you're named or why you're named it. Those are things that you don't have control over. I didn't decide to be named Nell, and he didn't decide to be named Aku.

It was with those thoughts in mind that I sat down next to him. He noticed me, but he didn't try to start a conversation, instead just giving me a nod of acknowledgment and going back to his way. It was refreshing--it was an interaction I was beyond used to at home, the sort of thing people do when you're not some sort of spectacle to be met but just another person in the crowd. Throughout all today, there hadn't really been a time when I felt like I was just another person here, that I felt I was really just one with the crowd, and in a way Aku was providing that thing to me. That normalcy that nobody craves, but everybody has some desire for. Today has been a very long day, and a very abnormal day, hasn't it?

I pull out my small makeup kit and glance at my face through its mirror. My eyeshadow's definitely more smeared than I thought it was, and I wince. That might be part of why Namiko was so happy to get away from me. I look like something out of a horror movie. I guess nobody was comfortable enough with me to point it out, yet. I don't really have time to fully redo my eyeliner and eyeshadow, but I do what I can to clean it up and make it look more normal. It doesn't really take long, but the entire time I spend doing it, my mind is drifting away from me and I keep ending up making small mistakes that I have to fix.

Where is my mind drifting? Moe, I guess. Sitting by the pond with her, helping her put on her makeup. . . I'm realizing now how awkward that must've been. Would she still like me after that? Did I go too far and ruin that amazing chance for genuine friendship? She thinks I'm weird now--she must. I wince and lower my kit. A perfect chance, a beautiful and perfect chance was handed to me there and I--I--I'm overthinking it. I'm worrying too much about it. Moe didn't mind. She invited me to come to that club later today, and she didn't run away or leave me. I didn't ruin anything, yet. But I still might. I have to get myself together.

I finish fixing my makeup quicker than I expected to. The class is still filling up, and the bell is yet to ring. I guess I have time to text someone, but at the same time, I don't know what I'd say. I could text Lilly, but the conversation I want to have with her is going to be a lot longer than I have time for right here. I could text Moe, but . . what would I say? I could text Dad, but I . . I don't know where that thought came from. The last thing I want to do right now is text Dad. I look around, my heart beating faster and my ears finally noticing the heavy rain outside. The very last thing I want to do right now is text Dad.

Thunder strikes in the distance. It's weird how fast the weather patterns change here. Just a few minutes ago, it was clear and open skies. But now there is a storm raging outside, and though I had drowned it out moments ago, I can now hear every boom of thunder and the constant pattering of rain against the rooftop. There is another boom and I jump, before my mind adjusts and I realize it was just the door slamming shut. Aku is looking at me curiously. I blush and shake my head a few times and he lets out a soft laugh.

Looking to the front of the room, I recognize Miss Fukunaga by her scarlet handkerchief first. She sits down on the table at the front of the class and smiles broadly towards us all, before beginning her introduction. It's the same as the speech she gave earlier today, really, except for a few small changes in word choice. It's astonishing how she keeps the energy to do that introduction seven times in a day. As it winds down, however, it's beginning to change and take on a different form. Rather than calling us all up to introduce ourselves today, we're going to play icebreaker games with the people sitting next to us.

A wave of relief washes over me for having chosen to sit next to Aku. If I had to do this with Kaida, well . . I'm not sure I would survive the class period. Even after all the nice things Moe said about her, I wasn't ready to sit down and talk with Kaida yet. The introduction games that we're going to play are simple--Aku and I are going to tell each other our names, our favorite subjects, if we're a part of any clubs and what our favorite book is. Aku seems hesitant to begin, and I know I'm hesitant to be the one to begin, so for a moment we both sit there silently. Finally, I break the ice and start.

"We met earlier, but um," I start, and as I start he starts.

"It's kinda dumb that we have to do this, since we met earlier today, isn't it?" He talks so fast, we're ending our statements at the same time. I blink at Aku and shake my head. He looks regretful and shakes his head too. "Oh, no, sorry--I didn't mean to talk over you. I just meant, um," and he trails off, hoping for me to speak. I wait for a moment, to see if he'll continue, before shaking my head and starting over.

"We met earlier, but um, I guess these are pretty different questions. All I know about you is, well, your name, and I think that Miss Fukunaga wants us to know each other better than that." It takes me a moment to get all that out without tripping over any words, but I manage it. Aku considers what I said with a frown, before shrugging a little bit. I think he agrees with my interpretation, but there's a part of him that wants to argue with me anyway. That must just be part of his personality.

"Yeah. I mean," and he trails off again, obviously resisting an urge to say something else. I just wait. "I guess I just don't see that much of a point in it, right? We both already have friends that we're going to talk to, and this little icebreaker isn't going to develop us into new best friends." His voice raises a little, but I don't think it's intentional.

"Knowing about each other isn't going to really help us rate each other's literary works later on in the class, either, and it's not like it matters what our favorite books are. It's not like we're going to pick big important books for our favorite books." He finishes his monologue and shakes his head. I guess I can sort of see his points.

Normally, I wouldn't really argue with him. There isn't a point to it, usually. But something about today has put me into a mood and I can't help myself but respond. "I don't know if I agree with all of that. I think, a lot of literature and the merit of literature comes in the perspectives that you look at it with, and by coming to know your classmates a little better, you can help understand their perspectives better. I mean, um, for starters I'm an American, and that means that my normal is going to be a lot different than the normal that most people here grew up with."

I pause and look at him, wondering if what I'm saying has any effect or if he has anything he wants to counter with. He shakes his head for me to continue, which is nice of him and not really what I expected.

"When we go into literary works, we obviously prescribe a bit of our normals onto the characters there. In a lot of fiction, characters are made blank slates in a lot of ways with the purpose that we-the readers-will be able to identify with them and prescribe our life's characteristics onto them. I am, because of how I was raised, going to prescribe different and more American values onto characters than you are, because of the way that you were raised. And there's nothing wrong with that--it's just our perspectives differing. So being able to understand other people's perspectives, and what they see when they come into a book or a novel--that's important. It lets us, um," and as I pause for breath here, I realize the room is quiet. Oh no. I glance behind me.

Miss Fukunaga is standing behind me with a smile that is wider than her face and stars in her eyes. Oh no. Behind her, I see most of the class has finished their icebreakers and are also looking towards me. Oh no. Oh no. I cover my mouth and go pale. I didn't--I didn't meant to make a scene--

"Miss Irvine is completely correct!" Fukunaga near sings from behind me. I can feel her eyes beaming me with approval from behind, but it doesn't help. I feel so bad. I didn't mean to do that to Aku. I didn't mean to cause a scene. Oh no.

"Perspective is paramount to literary analysis and criticism, and is, in fact, the subject of the first unit of our class! I could not have done a better job introducing it myself. We will be discussing and tackling several different styles of literary criticism in the upcoming weeks, but the three key perspectives we will be tackling are Marxist literary criticism, Archetypal literary criticism and Feminist literary criticism. Do any of you know the differences between these fields of literary criticism, or have other fields you'd like to cover in class?"

I don't want to listen to Fukunaga right now. I just feel sick. Looking over to Aku, he's crumpled, his only movement being the occasional tightening and relaxing of his fists. I want to apologize, but, I, I--it's like the Aku thing I was thinking about earlier. Apologizing right now isn't going to help him and it's not going to help me, either. Even if he wants an apology, he'll want it once he's calmed down--not while he's still angry like this. Apologizing right now will just come off as another attack to him, another sign of me putting myself forward and putting him down.

I hate this. I should've just stayed quiet. Fukunaga is still talking, but I'm not listening. Kaida's words from earlier are in my head again. She's right. If I had just forgotten I was American or put that aside, I wouldn't have mentioned any of that about perspective, I wouldn't have hurt Aku like this, I wouldn't feel so dead right now. How would Moe think of me if she saw me hurt someone like this? How would Rika? Lilly? I choked on my breath. Lilly hated bullies, and I--I had just bullied Aku, hadn't I?

Just like Aku beside me had crumbled externally, I crumbled internally and lost myself in my thoughts. It was all I could do to shut everything out, so that I could shut my emotions in and keep myself from falling into tears. The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt anybody. The last thing I ever wanted to do was cause anyone the pain that I felt, and yet, here I was. A burden to the world, a lightning rod of pain and frustration, a troublemaker in America and Japan. It would be better if I disappeared, if I was gone, so that Moe and Rika could find friends worthy of them, so that Lilly could find a new best friend worthy of her, so that Aku and everyone else wouldn't have to feel so much pain. So that Momma could afford to live somewhere nicer, could afford to take less shifts, so that. . so that. .

. . .

It was the bell ringing that finally pulled me out of my slump. The class was leaving, Aku having knocked into my chair and shook it when he got out of his, but there was a figure in front of me. I shook my head and opened my eyes more clearly. It was Miss Fukunaga, giving me a worried smile.

"I'm sorry, miss Irvine. I shouldn't have used you as an example like that without warning you, especially not after what I saw earlier today." She bites her lip, nervously. "Sometimes I forget how hard it can be, being in a new place and feeling alone. But it gets better." She offers me a hand to help me up, and I take it, slowly rising to my feet. "It gets a lot better. When I was your age, I studied overseas too and the first days I felt completely and utterly lost. I. ." she stopped, looking at me and noticing that it wasn't helping.

"I just want you to know that there are people here for you, alright? And not just councilor's and school psychologist's. My door is always open to you, and if you feel overwhelmed in these coming weeks, I'm there for whatever you need--someone to talk to, a pass out of class, help with some homework or with a translation that you don't understand." Miss Fukunaga smiled at me, but it wasn't that broad smile of earlier. It was a smaller one, a more timid one--a more genuine one.

"I can't say I'll always understand. But I'll always try. I know it sounds corny, but when I tell all of you kids that I see a bright future ahead of you, I mean it. Sometimes the world is dark, sometimes the night seems long, but come morning, there's always the rising sun of hope and happiness." She steps back, then, letting go of my hand. I stumble for a moment, before shaking my head and getting a grip of myself. Even if I felt like talking right now, I don't know what I'd say. Thankfully, it doesn't look like Miss Fukunaga really expects me to talk.

"Do you think you can make it through the rest of the day? Otherwise--I can walk you back home and get you excused from the rest of your classes for the day. You'll miss some introductions, but you can start again tomorrow, and it'll be a new day."

I'll. . . I'll. . .
[ ] Go home right now. I can't handle today.
-[ ] Let Miss Fukunaga walk you home.
-[ ] Walk home alone.
-[ ] Write-in.

[ ] Stay for the rest of the day. It's only three more hours.
-[ ] Because I need to be stronger than this.
-[ ] Because Moe invited me to come to a club today, and I won't let her down.
-[ ] Because I'm fine, and Miss Fukunaga is overthinking everything.
-[ ] Write-in.

==========================

was somewhat hard to figure out the voting totals for this one, but that's my bad -- didn't specify how many options you were allowed to pick last time. Oh well. Are y'all enjoying the quest so far / liking the characters so far? I'm hoping that the characters feel like characters or like people, maybe not that you'd encounter in real life but that you can easily picture and imagine.

As always, thanks for reading and I hope y'all enjoyed the update! : )

Drowned in Honey: Transfer School Girl Quest!

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