This story chronicles your experiences in the bustling city of Hawking, New Oxford. With an amazing squad of best friends, these are gonna be the best days of your life.
Shoutout to booklover2435for helping write the opening ( she basically wrote it for me lmao.) she's amazing, and you really need to check out her MURDER MYSTERY! AND JACK GRAZER X READER FIC! The harsh ringing of the school bell echoed through the halls, crushed by the slamming of locker doors, books clattering, locks clicking and students yelling. You wander down the halls, peering through each window only to get stares and whispers in return. Eventually you reach the principal's office, and knock on the door. Without looking, a tall, flame-haired woman opens it, and immediately starts bustling around, grabbing papers, dropping folders, and bumping into table legs. "Uh, miss?" You cough, quietly. She doesn't stop. "Excuse me, miss." Slightly louder- nothing. "Miss, pardon me, but I'm new here and-" "I know, you don't need to yell, I'm not deaf!!" The woman barked at you. "I'm trying to find the folder for you, with your timetable-" she hands you each item as she picks them up and hands them to you."- map, diary, lock and locker combination, letters of introduction for each teacher, annnnd... that's it." "Oh, uh, um thanks." You awkwardly nod and back out of the room, catching the door on the way out to stop it from banging on the doorframe. You twist around and catch a glimpse of that girl from the supermarket inside a classroom, banging her head on her desk and yelling something. You edge closer, but can't hear the conversation.you look down at your timetable, then back at the door.
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D107 It read. Huh. Spaghetti girl is in my english class. Okay. You thought. Hesitating a little, you push open the door and step inside. It's chaos. Paper is flying everywhere, girls are screaming, boys are tied to the tables,- wait, what? Wh- aa! A paper plane flies past your ear, and sticks into a pot of pencils. Spaghetti girl is standing on the front desk, simultaneously calling for "the death of the patriarchy!!" while whacking students with rolled-up paper posters and arguing with the teacher over the oxford comma. You step backwards and are about to walk away, when a boy on the tables calls out, "new student!" You freeze. The teacher freezes, the boys freeze, the girls freeze, and spaghetti girl whacks the teacher on the back of her head gently and goes, "i'm right." Then she freezes, and steps down from the desk she was standing on. She holds out her hand to shake, but the look in her eyes is terrifying. "Hi. Welcome to Hell. But this time, we're the devils."
