⊹⋛⋋The Wingman⋌⋚⊹

Monsters, Graves and Friends, Oh My!

*edited*
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The class turned out to be science which was taught by Mrs. Driscoll; her husband was one of those skeletons that stood on those rolly stands. She puppeteered it and acted like he, Mr. Driscoll, was actually there and alive, and though you had seen much weirder on your travels, you were concerned for Mrs. Driscoll's mental state. Since you were (pretty good/ okay-ish/ horrible) at science, the period passed (quickly/ slowly/ slowly, each minute torturing you).

After class, pumpkin-hair and Cunningham - whose names you learned were Howard and Randy - apologized for slamming (dogpiling) into you. The almost non-existent ill-will you held towards them disappeared and you forgave them.

Poetry was taught by Miss. Ringwald; besides her airy personality, she was nice and the class was fairly normal. Then came gym.

He's a fucking pychopath!

Coach Green had set up an outside obstacle course with three extremely dangerous obstacles. The first was a bunch of tires laid out that spewed fire at random intervals. Next was a climbing wall with some shady looking rope. And finally were the monkey bars, suspended over a pool over water filled with piranhas. You noted in your head to tell Aunt Sam about him later, and maybe to the police too.

The class was divided into groups of three and those dreaded words came out of his mouth. "You can choose your partners!"

Of course, you thought glumly. Choosing partners for group projects was every new kid's worst nightmare. A lot of people know that feeling, standing awkwardly to the side, watching everyone pair up with their friends, or roping in the smartest or most athletic kids in class, while you hope that someone will take pity on you and let you into their group before you're the last person without a partner and the teacher has to force you into a group or, even worse, partners with you.

Observing your fellow classmates, you noticed that almost everyone had their teams already. You began mentally preparing for your humiliating fate when you overheard a not-so-subtle conversation.

"-last time we had him on our team! We had to run around the school ten times, Cunningham! Ten times!"

"I know, but who else would want to be on a team with us?"

You looked over to see Randy and Howard staring right back; you must've been too shocked by the absurdity that was this class to notice they were in here too. They walked up to you with what they must've thought was a swagger, but just looked more awkward than anything.

Placing a hand on your shoulder, you turned your head to meet Randy's eyes, raising an eyebrow at the gesture.

"So," he started, "new kid-"

"It's (Y/n)." you corrected.

"Right, (Y/n). We noticed that you don't have any partners and we so happen to need one. So what do you say?"

You placed a hand over your heart and breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh thank cheese, I thought I was going to have to be paired up with the teacher or something." The two boys looked surprised, but before they could say anything, the psychopa- Coach Green spoke up.

"Alright! Looks like everyone found their group so listen up cause I'm only explaining the rules once!" The three of you walked closer to hear, standing next to a group that looked excited for this death trap. "This course is similar to a relay race. Each team member will complete one obstacle, the person before them must hand them this stick," he held up a small baton, "before they can continue. Last team to finish will be subjected to humiliating punishment."