Hatchetfield.

Yellow Fever

There was a new kid in school. They transferred about a week ago—a little weird to do halfway into senior year, but everyone has their reasons—and the entire student body had been buzzing with rumors. With the decrease in bullying, it seemed that Hatchetfield High turned to gossip to fulfill its need for drama. Pete had heard all about this mystery transfer, yet he hadn't seen them anywhere.

Everything was incredibly vague about them. Their name was Timothy. Or maybe it was Tony. Tom? Something starting with a T, at least. That's pretty much how it was for every aspect of them. Each source spun a different story; they were loud, they were excitable, they were angry, they were boring, they were too interested in everything, they brushed off any attempt at talking to them, they talked endlessly, so on and so forth.

The transfer was an enigma, and Pete was perfectly happy to leave it that way.

"Spankoffski!"

Shaken, Pete turned to see who was talking. Some deep, secret part of him froze in fear at the thought of Max, who was the only person to call him by his last name. Instead of a familiar, fear-inducing figure marching towards him, though, he was tackled into a hug by an unseen force and thrown off-balance.

"Spankoffski," they repeated. Then, in a voice hushed enough that only Pete would pick up, "I missed you."

Pete shifted uncomfortably, trying to get a good look at them.

Oh. Shit.

That explained the conflicting rumors.

Pete pulled away from T'noy Karaxis, a Lord in Black. His heart beat so hard that he was sure the lord could hear it. He felt sick. All of the running, all of the narrowly avoiding extermination just so that he could die in the middle of the hallway, and he was certain he was going to die. Why else would a lord be here, if not to demand something? What would a lord ask for if not his life?

"You're thinking too loud," Tinky said in the quiet voice again. He held out one of his hands, speaking loudly, as if putting on a show for their audience of disinterested high schoolers, "Nice to meet you, Spankoffski. I just transferred here. Call me Theodore."

When Pete hesitated, Tinky's expression darkened, almost imperceptibly. He took the lord's hand, anxious as to not cause a scene. A handshake turned into another tight hug.

"That's my brother's name," Pete squeaked out, pulling away once more.

Tinky's face lit up. Any trace of bubbling anger disappeared completely, "I know! Oh, but will it get confusing? You'll call me Theo, then."

"Right," Pete said, slowly backing up. He searched his brain for an excuse to get away, "Nice to meet you, Theo, but I have to get to class, so..."

Tinky started walking alongside him, "Where ya going?"

Pete swallowed. He was hoping that by wandering away Tinky would take the hint, "AP Calculus."

"Fun," Tinky tilted his head, grinning at him, "I just got switched into that class."

"Great," Pete said. His stupid, puberty-addled voice cracked. "Just wonderful."

"I know, right?" Tinky said, slinging an arm around his shoulder, "Maybe I should change more of my classes, then we can hang out all day!"

Pete shuddered at just the thought of that. "Maybe."

Something in Tinky's demeanor changed, So, anyway," his voice had a layer of seriousness to it, as if he was about to tell Pete something important, "how's Teddy-bear?"

Pete struggled to figure out who the lord was talking about, but when he did, he rathered one of the lockers eating him whole. He wanted nothing to do with Tinky and his strange obsession with Pete's brother. "He's--he's, uh, fine."