August 27, 2012

Walkerville High Entrance

7:52 A.M.

High school—an elitist, dog eat dog battle between lost, confused, hormonal teenagers. A monster that devours innocent, na?ve children and turns them into cynical, distrusting, pissed off young adults. The ideal setting for a story written by an uncreative author too lazy to write an actual book. And right now, an inescapable fate for freshman Dorothy Ann Ewing, an girl of 5'5" with an eternal tan, wavy blonde hair, and an unquenchable thirst for knowledge. Dorothy Ann, DA for short, had heard about the horrors of high school from her older sister, and while Carrie Ewing was known to exaggerate, DA didn't doubt for a moment that there was some truth to the tales the 20 year old told.

Standing in front of Walkerville High, Dorothy Ann felt like one of her microscope slides, just waiting to be analyzed. What would her peers think of her? Sure, she was a good student, but smarts alone wouldn't be enough to see her through the next four years. Sighing, DA fixed her pleated skirt one last time before standing up tall and entering the school. Maybe, if she could convince everyone around her that she was confident, she would convince herself along the way.

Upon entering the large, gray building, DA immediately found herself submerged in an ocean of unfamiliar faces. Pushing through the crowds, DA pulled out the schedule and locker information that had been mailed to her over the summer. She analyzed the lockers around her, hoping to figure out which direction to turn. After searching blindly for a few minutes, DA stumbled upon her small, blue locker proudly displaying the digits 134 and smiled. So far, everything was going much more smoothly than she had planned. Maybe, if things carried on at this rate, she would be able to get to her first period class early and get her books organized-

"SCHEDULE SNATCH!"

DA groaned. After five years of classes together, and—dare she say it—close friendship, she still somehow forgot to factor the tall, toned Carlos Ramon into her plans. "Give it back, Carlos," DA threatened, holding out an empty palm to the boy in front of her.

"What fun would that be?" Carlos flashed DA one of his well known childish grins and looked down at her schedule. "Come on, we have Geometry together." Quickly, Carlos grabbed DA's open hand with his own and dragged her down the hall, barely giving the girl a chance to shut her locker. Despite herself, DA found herself barely suppressing a blush. Quickly, she caught herself and snatched her hand away.

"I am perfectly capable of walking down the hallway by myself," she complained, silently cursing herself for enjoying the moment of contact.

As the two entered the classroom, Carlos turned to DA. "I know," he answered, looking her seriously in the eyes, "I just thought it might be more fun to walk together." The two continued to stare at each other, and DA allowed herself a small smile. Seeing that she wasn't angry, Carlos perked up. "I like your outfit."

"R-really?" DA stuttered.

"Ya," Carlos held back a giggle, "it's really acute."

"CARLOS!"

August 27, 2012

Walkerville High Hallway

8:06 A.M.

Walkerville High was big, much bigger than his previous schools. And after 30 minutes of searching hallways, classrooms, and supply closets for his locker, Arnold Perlstein concluded that the school was too big. He would never be able to learn his way around, much less arrive anywhere on time. Grumbling, Arnold finally found his locker and entered the combination. Right to 36. Left to 12. Right again, this time to 27. Jiggle the lock, and…

"DAMMIT!" Arnold shouted as the lock remained shut tight. "Stupid freakin' piece of-"

"Locker trouble?"

Arnold spun around to see a tall, dark skinned girl with curly hair and deep brown eyes standing behind him, suppressing a snicker. He groaned inwardly, having hoped his tantrum had gone unnoticed. Seeing his frustration, the girl laughed once more. "Gimme that…" she commanded, snatching the paper with the locker's combination from Arnold. Smoothly, she entered the numbers and opened the locker. "You can thank me now."

Arnold glared at the girl. "I had it under control, Keesha."

"Sure…" the girl, Keesha, responded, the sarcasm dripping in her voice. "Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that Wanda's getting to lunch early to snag the gang a table, so look for us in the cafeteria. Assuming you can find it, that is." Satisfied, Keesha sauntered away, leaving Arnold to fume.

"It's going to be a long 4 years."

In the 5 years that had passed since their time in Ms. Frizzle's class, not much had changed for the 8 students. The group was still close, spending most of their free time together. DA was still the avid researcher, Carlos was still the jokester, and Arnold still found himself wishing he were at home more often than not. So while each of the kids heavily anticipated their time in high school, they were sure that they'd be fine, their friendship unaffected by the terror and turmoil that was high school.

What was the worst that could happen?

August 27, 2012

Walkerville High Cafeteria

12:08 P.M.

At long last, the bell rang for lunch, much to Phoebe's delight. The lanky teenager wasn't particularly hungry, nor had she hated her morning classes too much. Being around so many new faces, so many strangers, for such a long time always left her feeling on edge. Lunchtime meant friends, and friends meant familiarity. Clumsily, Phoebe squeezed through the halls, only stopping briefly at her locker to pick up her lunch and drop off her books. Not long after, she found herself in a large, crowded room-the cafeteria. Timidly, Phoebe walked through the hordes of students until she at last heard Arnold's familiar voice calling her. Breathing a quick sigh of relief, she approached the table, arriving just in time to hear Wanda telling one of her infamous stories.

"…it was just me and the beast, alone in the woods, when he leaped forward and- Pheebs!" Wanda exclaimed, just seeing the brunette. "Tell them about how I fought 'The Beast of Walkerville Woods.' Someone," she explained, closely eyeing Tim, "Doesn't believe it happened."

Tim glared at Wanda. "Wanda, I seriously doubt you'd last five minutes in a fight against Arnold, let alone a monster. Besides, you said you were alone."

"I was…" Wanda responded feebly. "I was all alone EXCEPT for Phoebe, who was also there. Tell him, Phoebe."

"Leave her alone, Wanda." Arnold threatened. The red-haired boy turned to Phoebe. "You can sit here, Pheebs," he told her, gesturing to an empty seat beside him. Phoebe flashed Arnold a grateful smile and quickly took her seat. "Sorry about Wanda." Arnold continued. "She's been feeling defensive ever since Tim called her out on being full of crap."

"I AM NOT DEFENSIVE!"

Tim and Arnold both rolled their eyes while Phoebe lightly chuckled and began eating her lunch. Soon enough, DA and Carlos joined the group, arguing over something or another, followed by Keesha and an exhausted Ralphie. Seeing his friends concerned looks, Ralphie offered a simple "math sucks" before collapsing face first into Phoebe's lunch.

"What's up with Ralphie?" Wanda asked, her mouth full of food as she prodded said boy with her fork.

Keesha shrugged her shoulders. "Dunno. He said something about a math teacher and running laps."

DA eyed the unconscious boy. "Should we wake him up?" She asked slowly.

Arnold stood up. "I would, but I should get going. I need to find room 225."

"Worried about getting lost again?"

"Shut up, Keesha."

Keesha smirked at Arnold's retreating figure, "Pretty Boy has a point. We should probably get going. Anyone else heading to gym?"
Wanda leapt up excitedly. "Finally!" She exclaimed, "A class with someone hip!"

"Never say hip, Wanda."

"Fly?"

"No."

"Gangsta'?"

"Stop."

After the two girls had left, Carlos stood up. "Well, DA and I have English, so we should probably make a 'tasty' exit."

DA raised a brow towards Carlos.

"You know, tasty," he explained. "Because our exit should be hasty, but we're in a cafeteria, so… tasty."

Shaking her head, DA got up and walked away from the table.

"Wait for me!" Carlos shouted, chasing after the blonde. "We should walk together! We make such a great 'pear'!"

Back at the table, Tim rolled his eyes at the display. "That was bad. Anyway, see you later, Pheebs."

As Tim walked away, Phoebe turned her attention back to the still sleeping Ralphie. Realizing she couldn't wake him herself (Ralphie was universally known to be a deep sleeper. Once, the group was sleeping over at DA's house and in a failed cooking experiment, Wanda set the stove on fire. Ralphie successfully slept through the piercing fire alarm and the screams of his friends and couldn't be waken until the fireman used his hose to soak the boy.), Phoebe turned to call for Tim, only to realize that the boy was long gone. She looked back to the sleeping figure, then down to her now grumbling stomach.

"My food…"

August 27, 2012

Arnold's Basement

3:34 P.M.

Ever since the 6th grade, the friends would leave school after classes had ended and meet up at whoever's house was deemed most convenient. Normally, however, the eight would end up at Arnold's welcoming three-story abode, complete with pleasant decorations, expensive furniture, and a basement completely renovated solely for Arnold and his friends to hang out in. With no siblings to worry about and parents who were regularly at work until 6:00 p.m., the gang would be left alone to do so as they pleased. This basement is where the group was relaxing that afternoon when an angry looking Keesha stormed in.

"I hate math!"

Ralphie leapt up from his spot on the couch to face the girl. " ?" He asked sympathetically.

"Yes!"

"She sucks!"

"Totally!"

"Who's Ms. Phillips?" Ralphie and Keesha turned to DA, their eyes raging.

"You don't know?" Keesha asked. DA shook her head. "Consider yourself lucky. She is the strictest, angriest, bitchiest, most sadistic spawn of Satan to ever roam the Earth!"

Ralphie nodded enthusiastically. "And she's mean!"

Arnold frowned. "I'm sure she's not that bad. Let's be honest, the two of you are drama queens."

Ralphie and Keesha turned to Arnold, eyes wide and mouths agape.

"Me?" Ralphie sniffed sadly.

Carlos laughed. "Especially you! Dude, you're worse than Wanda!"

"Haha, yeah! Wait, what?"

"Nevermind, Wanda. My point is, you guys are probably just overreacting." Arnold finished and sat down, ignoring a confused Wanda who was trying to work out what Carlos had meant by his snide remark.

"Overreacting? I have battle scars from that she-beast!"

Keesha rolled her eyes. "Ralphie's not really helping our point. What we're saying is that we are totally reacting the accepted amount."

"Yeah! Bitches be crazy!"

"Ralphie…" Keesha growled.

"Sorry!"

Arnold shook his head. "I don't buy it. Not to sound like my cousin, but why don't you prove it?"

August 27, 2012

Ms. Phillip's House

7:13 P.M.

"This isn't what I had in mind."

After the scene in the basement, Keesha and Ralphie had thrown together a plan to prove to Arnold that Ms. Phillips was, in fact, "psycho-bitch crazy" (in the words of Ralphie). Unfortunately, Wanda had helped to shape the plan, and so much to Arnold's dismay, it involved dressing in black, sneaking around, and hiding in trees.

"You wanted proof," Keesha responded bluntly.

"I meant, like, a recording of her freaking out in class, not a stake out of her house."

Ralphie sighed. "Well, you should have made that more clear. Anyway, we're here now, so shut up, hide in that shrubbery, look through these binoculars, and try to resist the Monty Python jokes!"

"But this yard is the perfect environment for poison ivy to grow, and as you know, I am highly allergic-"

"Shut up or I'll taunt you again."

"But you didn't even taunt me in the first place!"

Groaning, Keesha looked down at Arnold from her perch in a large oak tree. "Do you want proof or not?"

"Not! Definitely not!"

Ralphie slapped his hand over Arnold's mouth, silencing the boy. "She's coming," he muttered creepily, motioning to a set of headlights approaching the house. "Into the shrubbery!" Ralphie then proceeded to throw Arnold into the plant and jump behind Keesha's oak in one swift motion.

"Ouch…" Arnold moaned.

"Shh!" Keesha glared at Arnold. "What we're doing here is highly illegal. Do you want to get caught?" After seeing Arnold silently shake his head, Keesha turned her attention back to the house. "And… She's in! Now, watch and learn, Arn!"

"I should have stayed home today."

August 27, 2012

Arnold's Basement

7:25 P.M.

After Arnold, Keesha, and Ralphie had gone out to spy, the five remaining friends decided to stay back at Arnold's house. Very quickly, however, Wanda became bored and suggested they play a game. Everyone agreed that this sounded like a good idea, forgetting that, despite his wealth, Arnold only owned one game—Monopoly.

"1…2…3…4…5… and 6," Wanda counted, moving her piece—the wheelbarrow (she got last choice of pieces)—onto Illinois Avenue.

"Ha!" Tim held his hand out to Wanda. "$750, please and thank you!"

Wanda glared at Tim. "No way you had three houses there! Last time I passed, you only had one!"
"Oh, I'm sorry, I can't hear you over the sound of how rich I am!"

"You're cheating!"

"This is a land of opportunity, Wanda, change happens, houses get built. So, your cash, if you please."

"Asshole."

"Prostitute."

"I'm not a prostitute!"

"Well, you should be. If you were, you might have some cash."

August 27, 2012

Ms. Phillip's House

7:46 P.M.

30 minutes into spying, Arnold was bored. So far, Ms. Phillips had only made herself a sandwich and watched some television. Arnold rolled his eyes. "Wow," he muttered sarcastically, "You guys were right, she's a monster."
"Yeah she is!" Ralphie stood up angrily. "She's rooting for the Yankees! HEY LADY, THE YANKEES SU-"

Arnold pounced on Ralphie as Ms. Phillips turned around. "Hello?" she called timidly.

From the bush, Arnold watched the woman sympathetically. "See, you scared her," Arnold scolded.

Ralphie glared at Arnold. "Quit defending her, she's a maneater!"

"Will both of you shut up?" Keesha whispered harshly towards the boys from her branch. "You're going to get us caught!"

Hearing a window open up, all three teenagers immediately froze. From her house, Ms. Phillips cautiously peeked out into the dark. "Who's out here?" She called nervously. The woman sounded so scared that Arnold was about to stand up and tell her the truth. Ms. Phillips, however, was a demanding person, and when her question wasn't immediately answered, something deep inside of her snapped. Picking up shotgun she had sitting near the door, Ms. Phillips screamed out her window. "I know you're out here! And when I find you, you're dead!"

Fearfully, Keesha, Ralphie, and Arnold turned to each other, their eyes conveying the same, simple message: shit.

August 27, 2012

Arnold's Basement

7:50 P.M.

"Give it to me!" Wanda shouted, jumping onto the coffee table, hand extended towards Dorothy Ann.

Carlos snickered. "That's what she said-Ow!" Tim had slapped Carlos across the back of the head.

"Dude, that joke isn't funny!"

Eyes ablaze, DA proceeded to hit Tim in the back of his head. "Lay off him! He's funnier than you!"

"I wasn't trying to be funny!"

"Well… Good, because you're bad at it!"

Quietly, Phoebe stood up. "Um, guys… Shouldn't we, you know, finish the game?" Looking around, Phoebe realized that she was being completely ignored amongst her friend's fighting. "I guess not…" She sighed. Phoebe always hated when her friends fought, though as they grew older it seemed to happen more and more often. She supposed it had something to do with puberty or hormones. Whatever the reason, Phoebe had learned long ago that not much could be done when the group was riled up. Generally, the best course of action tended to be to leave and hope that she didn't somehow get pulled into the conflict or knocked unconscious—both of which had occurred more than once due to group infighting. Quickly, she calculated the safest path to the stairs. "Alright, I'm gonna go…Um…"

"Whore!"

"Gold digger!"

"Gold digger? You're one to talk! We've seen you cozying up to Carlos over there!"

Seeing that no one was paying any attention to her, Phoebe gave up on finding an excuse. "Oh boy…" she muttered before fleeing to the stairs. Maybe the basement would be safer in a few minutes.

August 27, 2012

Ms. Phillip's House

7:51 P.M.

gazed over her backyard. Her yard was her second most prized possession, only behind the fully loaded Remington 11-87 that she currently held in her hands. The grass was perfectly cut, not one strand taller than the rest, and irresistibly green. The lawn was littered with flowers of all types and colors, just varied enough to be beautiful without being overwhelming. And in the back of her yard stood the most perfect garden the teacher had ever known, full to the brim with carrots, potatoes, cucumbers, tomatoes, peppers, celery, strawberries, and countless other wonders. Yes, Ms. Phillips' backyard was perfect, a sanctuary in the middle of a world full of chaos.

Unfortunately, Ms. Phillips knew much too well that wherever there is light, there must also be dark, and so she knew the perfection could not last for long before corruption revealed its dirty little head. Ms. Phillips knew corruption well- a groundhog visiting to eat her carrots, a vicious bee looking for its victim but entering under the false pretense of "pollination," sometimes even the neighbor's cat, confused and lost and only looking for some milk. Luckily, experience had taught Ms. Phillips that a quick bullet to the head (she had made quite a mess of that bee) could take care of any trouble.

"Come out, little children!" Ms. Phillips growled, growing impatient. "Let me murder you the way you murdered my peace!" Listening closely for a few minutes, Ms. Phillips decided that these brats weren't going to move. "Well then," she chuckled, "I guess I only have one choice. Mark my words, monsters: I will come out there, find you, and slowly rip off your skins, one small piece at a time! I will toast your toes and fry your fingers and make you wish you had never had the thought of trespassing on my property!" Screaming, Ms. Phillips jumped out her window and landed smoothly on her feet. From her new position, she could easily spot the intruders—one familiar boy, though she couldn't remember from where, and one unfamiliar. Both boys were frozen, their eyes locked onto the teacher.

Ms. Phillips laughed once more, this time the noise roaring and bloodthirsty. "So, what have we here?"

The familiar boy gulped. "Um… The most diverse duo of Spy Kids you've ever met? Spy Kids who… uh… don't deserve death because they love you so so so so much?"

Ms. Phillips frowned, her eye twitching. "That was rhetorical."

"Oh."

Ms. Phillips shook her head. "Anyway," she continued, pleased to see that the brief detour hadn't erased the fear in the two boys' eyes, "Do you know what I do to intruders?" Only silence answered the psychotic teacher this time. "I kill them." Slowly, Ms. Phillips pulled up her Remington 11-87 and aimed it towards the first boy, the silent, red-headed one. "I used to have a red-headed son," She muttered towards the kids. "Do you know what happened to him?" The boy shakily shook his head.

The women sighed. "I came home from work one day and found him playing in my garden. Now he spends a lot of time down in the dirt." She faked a sob. "I almost miss him." Ms. Phillips moved her finger onto the trigger of the gun. "Oh well," she murmured nonchalantly, "What can you do?" Mentally, Ms. Phillips counted down in her head, preparing to pull the trigger. 3…2…and…1!

August 27, 2012

Arnold's Basement

8:03 P.M.

"You know what your problem is?" Wanda screeched at Tim. "You're so busy trying to look macho now that we're in high school that you are willing to sell out your morals to win!"

Tim snorted. "Like you even have morals!"

"Excuse me?" Wanda glared towards DA. "At least I don't sell out my body for cash!"

DA turned to Wanda, eyes widened. "Yes you do! All the time!"

"Shut up! Your hair is stupid!"

"So's your face!"

"My face is a beautiful flower about to blossom in the face of controversy, thank you very much!"

"Guys, I'm back- Oomph!" As Phoebe descended the stairs carrying a bowl of pretzels, she found herself knocked violently to the floor by an angry Wanda flailing her arms wildly.

"Oh my God, Pheebs, are you okay?" Carlos and Wanda rushed over to their fallen friend and helped her to a chair.

"I'm fine," Phoebe replied softly, "just… bleeding profusely… And feeling dizzy… And-"

"Guys, this is getting out of hand," DA exclaimed, standing up from her spot on the sofa.

"Good, because my face-"

"We need to stand together, listen to each other, and most of all, respect each other," DA continued.

Phoebe frowned. "Well, I'm glad for us, but my head is-"

"We have a difficult journey ahead of us—I should know, I've been taking high school level classes since 7th grade. The next four years won't be easy. However, we can't let our fear tear us apart." DA turned towards her friends and stood even taller. "I love you guys," she said strongly, making sure to make eye contact with each of her friends, "and I know that without each of you by my side, high school will be a living hell. So, what do you say we pack up this game, put our differences aside, and go out for ice cream? My treat."

"No." Tim put a hand onto DA's shoulder. "My treat."

"Guys…" Phoebe moaned. "I feel kind of tired… And my head-"

"Now, everyone," Carlos declared, standing up onto Arnold's coffee table, "It's our treat."

"Yes," Wanda nodded, "We'll each pay because, gosh darn it, we are equals." Satisfied, Tim, DA, Carlos, and Wanda left the room to go get ice cream.

Sighing, Phoebe looked to the ground where her pretzels were scattered.

"My food…"

August 27, 2012

Ms. Phillip's House

8:04 P.M.

BANG!

"MWAHAHAHA!" Ms. Phillips couldn't hold back the laugh. "At last-"

"Don't you 'mwahaha' us yet, lady."

Ms. Phillips quickly looked towards where the boy lay, only to find herself staring at a girl, her face also familiar, standing protectively in front of her perfectly alive target. "What is this-"

"I wouldn't yell at us," Keesha cut in confidently. "It seems your aim's a little off."

Ms. Phillips looked to the girl's hands where she held a thick math book, a bullet embedded into the teaching resource. Her eyes widened at the sight of the familiar cover. "No…"

Keesha smirked. "Oh, yes."

"Oh yes what?" Ralphie piped in, his voice seemingly upbeat for a boy that nearly died.

"This isn't just any textbook," Keesha explained. "This textbook was provided to the school by Principal Adams, wasn't it Ms. Phillips?" Guiltily, Ms. Phillips looked to the ground. Seeing Ralphie and Arnold's faces still contorted in confusion, Keesha groaned. "You don't get it?"

Arnold and Ralphie shook their heads.

Keesha rolled her eyes, disappointment evident. "Think about it, guys. Ms. Phillips said her son has-er, had- red hair."

"Still not getting it."

"Guys, there are only three families in all of Walkerville with red hair! The Frizzles, the Perlsteins," Keesha gestured to Arnold, "and the Adams! The father of Ms. Phillips son genetically had to be Principal Adams! Well, Principal Adams or Arnold."

Ralphie scrunched up his face and looked at Arnold. "Really?"

"Yes, it's true, it's all true!" Ms. Phillips cried, throwing herself onto the ground.

"Ew."

Ms. Phillips sniffed. "35 years ago, when we were only a little older than you, Jonathon- Principal Adams- and I were madly in love. We got married the moment we could, and soon after we had a beautiful baby boy. Everything was wonderful, right up until Jonathon got promoted." Ms. Phillips voice turned from quiet to hard. "He became so consumed with his 'precious students' getting a 'good education' that he neglected me! That job tore us apart, and at the tender age of 27, I found myself divorced and left with a child."

"Then why did you kill it?" Arnold screeched, still slightly on edge after his brush with death.

Ms. Phillips frowned. "I didn't," She responded sadly. "I loved that kid more than anything in the world. And you know what he did? He left me to pursue an education! From that day on, I swore to get revenge on the establishment that destroyed my life!"

Ralphie shook his head in confusion. "So let me get this straight- you torture every student in your classes because you hate the school system?" Ms. Phillips shook her head sadly, only to be greeted with an unexpected laugh. "That's great!" Ralphie exclaimed.

"It is?" Ms. Phillips stared at her student.

"It is?" Keesha and Arnold echoed.

"It is!" Ralphie shouted once again. "Ms. Phillips, we hate school too!"

Ms. Phillips looked up at Ralphie, her eyes hopeful. "You do?"

Ralphie laughed again. "Do we ever! Ms. Phillips, why do we have to fight as enemies? It seems to me that the best way to knock the school system back onto its metaphorical ass is for you to gives us absolutely no work and yet continue to pass the students!"

Keesha snapped her fingers. "He's right! And we're all winners- we pass math with no effort on our part, you get paid for doing nothing on your part, and the school system is exploited!"

Ms. Phillips looked back and forth between Ralphie and Keesha as a grin emerged on her face. "It's brilliant!" Quickly, she jumped up and pulled her two students into a hug. "Finally, I'll get revenge!" Laughing maniacally , Ms. Phillips skipped away from the kids to do who the hell knows what.

Keesha shrugged her shoulders. "That went well."

"I'll say," Ralphie agreed.

"Everything always works out for you guys, doesn't it?" Arnold sighed.

"Pretty much."

"Yup."

Arnold nodded his head. "That's what I thought."

August 28, 2012

Walkerville High Cafeteria

12:16 P.M.

"And then," Ralphie told excitedly to the lunch table, "We convinced her that the best way to avenge her loss was to give us all A's and no work!"

Keesha nodded enthusiastically. "Hell, she's even bringing donuts to class today!"

Ralphie sat down. "Yeah…" He sighed dreamily. "I love math."

"Me too, mon frère, me too."

Tim looked at Keesha and Ralphie questioningly. "So, you hacked some school files to find Ms. Phillips' address, trespassed, spied on her, and made her cry, and everything worked out for you?"

"Yup!" Keesha answered smugly. "Maybe this will be a good year after all."