Behind the Astrology section

The Royal Highschool

- Holy shit it's cold here.

Blitz pulled his scarf over his face, warming up his freezing nose as much as he could. He's never been a fan of fancy ass schools, and what he hated the most was feeling the cold wind of winter biting his legs under his old, holed jeans. And yet there he was, short imp walking amongst the immense daddy's girls and boys, all pampered and warm and clean. The fucking Goetia demons. The fucking nobility of hell, looking down on him with their disdainful eyes and fake smiles stuck on their feathery faces. It was like every one of them had their lips glued to their ears the moment they hatch.

Blitz snickered quietly at that thought, before pushing the huge doors of the Royal Highschool. If it wasn't for their brand new "inclusion program" and sports license, he would have spent the year of his nineteens stuck into a shitty, wrecked school surrended by idiots. But there, HE was the idiot, only valued for his sports skills.

Blitz had to take a second to adjust to the warmth and bright light of the hallway, before taking off his scarf, gloves and coat and shoving them in his backpack. Far from everyone's cute little purses and neat uniforms, the little imp was still carrying his old, undestructible black backpack over a dark jacket full of spikes and band badges, a dark blue jeans with holes on his freezing knees and a pair of massive combat boots, squishing with every step after turning into pools everytime it rained.

With a quick motion, Blitz tried to shake off the twenty five centimeters of water now drowning his feet, in vain.

- Oh, fuck me.

The small demon quickly squeeched towards his locker, not even seeing the "wrong school, clown" written in black paint on the silver metal anymore, neither for the classist insults he was now used to hear every now and then everytime he was roaming the long corridors.

Blitz tossed his sports bag in the small locker before slamming it closed, not even bothering to lock it since some rich asshole will eventually find a way to open it and fill it with wipe cream or dirt again. Everything to remind him the mud he was coming from, and where he belonged.

- Mister Buckzo, where's your uniform ?

Blitz flinched and turned around. The tall, slender pricipal was staring down at him with his red, piercing eyes. He had to bite back an "In your mother's ass" response before talking.

-Didn't recieve it yet.

-You've been here for a month already, young man. Being an imp doesn't prevent you from following the rules.

Blitz sighed. Even if he kept asking his drunk ass dad to buy that goddamn uniform, the old man always found a way to spend all their money in cheap booze and pot.

-Yeah, I'll tell my dad to call the tailor and-

-One week.

-Excuse me ?

-You have one more week to buy that uniform, before I suspend you. Am I being clear ?

Another sigh.

-Yes, sir. One week.

The principal nodded his crowned head before turning back to scold someone else about their haircut, which left enough time for Blitz to quickly walk away to his first class.