The tears flow freely from your face.
You carefully wipe them away.
"Bye guys," you sob, looking at your friends.
"Bye, y/n," your bestie, Frank whispers between the tears.
"Bye," you sob, forcing a smile.
You run your fingers through your hair and walk off towards the car. The Ford Focus sits right next to your old school. You get in the front seat and your mother pulls away from the curve. You look back at your school and wave goodbye.
You're now heading to a animal highschool. Your family is one of the only ones left that can afford schooling. Everyone is on farms or in slaughter houses or even butchers!
Your drive through the town is silent.
"Ready for the interview," your mother asks, pulling into the carpark.
You gulp loudly. "Yes."
"Y/n," you mother says sternly, "don't lie."
"I am ready," you persist. "I really am!"
"Okay, okay," your mum replies, getting out the car. "Hurry up."
You follow her through the school grounds. Eyes are fixed on windows and everyone is looking at you.
A human on animal grounds? Absurd.
You huddle close to your momma ♥♥♥.
"I'm scared," you whimper.
"Y/n, it'll be okay baby," your mother comforts.
The principal office door swings open.
You scream.
A lion with braids and dreads is staring at you. The lion's make-up is all winky wonky and dumb. Your mother slaps your face. You looks at you angrily.
"Hello," your mother bravely speaks up, facing the lion.
"I didn't know people like you were still around," the lion sneers. "Come in, come in." You carefully follow your mother in the office. Even at your age, you're still holding her hand tightly. The lion clenches her teeth when she looks at you.
Soon you're seated at the table with the lion across from you and your mother next to you.
"So hello, y/n," the lion speaks. "I am Mrs Potts."
What?
"Hello Mrs Potts," your mum says, outstretching her hand.
"Tempting," Mrs Potts chuckles, "No thanks."
Your mother takes back her hand quickly and you both intertwine fingers once more.
"So, y/n, what do you want to know?" Mrs Potts asks. "You know before you move into class," she checks the clock on the wall, "in half an hour."
How the heck do animals speak fluent English?
"Why I'm here," you reply.
"Well-"
"Y/n, we've spoken about this!" your mum hisses in your ear.
"It's the only way you can get education. As you know your family is one of the only vegan, helpful families out there. Helping us for generations. Respect, so we pay back by supplying an education for your family plus a home," Mrs Potts continues.
"Yes mum told me," you interrupt. "But this school is sketchy-"
"I beg your pardon?" Mrs Potts cuts in.
"Sorry, I just-"
"I mean y/n is right. You've had the police here the other day... and a runaway girl. Maybe we should reconsider...." your mum agrees.
"So you have chosen death?" Mrs Potts questions.
"No we-"
"Y/n, you're an orphan bye," Mrs Potts states. She leads your mum out the room. "SLAUGHTER HOUSE FOR THIS ONE!" you hear the principal roar.
"What the-" you begin before giving up. I mean your dad is still alive so ~t h i n k p o s i t i v e~
Mrs Potts renters the office and growls at you. "Y/n," she says sternly.
"Yep, yep," you mutter.
"First class is English," Mrs Potts exclaims, giving you a piece of paper. "Here's ya timetable, NOW LEAVE!"
"Okay," you whimper, covering your head.
"Pfft weak," Mrs Potts snickers, hitting your arm.
You don't reply, but you keep moving out of the office.
Your mother's dead.
Your friends are dead.
You're all alone.
Except for your ~d a d~, the OG vegan who started this veganess. Well first it was your dad's grandfather and then it passed down. Why couldn't mum do it too? you think, tears slipping from your eyes. You cast your eyes down and look at the timetable in your hands.
1- English, RN11
You study it for a second. The 1, means lesson one. Then English means English, I mean come ON! That is SO obvious! What does the R mean? And the N?
Room number? you think. Room number 11. So you start looking for number 11 and soon enough you've found it!
Forgetting all your manners you burst the door open.
Faces and faces and faces of animals stare at you.
You start feeling ✨uncomfy✨
The walls of the classroom catch your attention. Times tables, algebra symbols, shapes, weird symbols.... isn't this a maths classroom?
"Ahem," the teacher coughs.
"Oh yeah sorry," you mutter.
"You must be y/n," the teacher realises. "I am Mr Giggles." The teacher is a hyena. Okay this name makes sense but how does Mrs Potts fit the name of a lion? Did a kindergarten name it or something?
Visible confusion settles down on your face.
"He-hey Mr Giggles," you reply slowly. "Is this um.." you look down at your timetable, "1- English RN11?" You mentally facepalm yourself. Why did you pronounce the dash in that sentence!? Why didn't you just say is this 'RN11?!" You're so dumb!!
"Um.." Mr Giggles, giggles. Dumb. "This is 1- Maths RC11." He smiles when he finishes the sentence.
Your eyebrow twitches. "Eh?"
"RN11, is North of here. That's what the 'N' stands for," Mr Giggles explains. He struts over to you and snatches the timetable from your hands. You receive a stinging papercut in return. "Class keep working, don't mind us," Mr Giggles announces.
"Okay," the class replies. All of them open their workbooks and write down equations. You watch in awe as all the animals write. SEe it's pretty weird to watch animals write.
"See your next lesson is... history.. in room," Mr Giggles drags his finger of the page. Wait, how the hell do they have hands!? They're animals... Did something happen back in the revolution...??
You blush and touch your hot face.
"History is in RS23," Mr Giggles says, "So it's in the South Wing room 23, upstairs."
"Why is it upstairs?" you ask nicely.
"Because it starts with a 2. So to make it on the third story it'll have to start with a 3," Mr Giggles explains.
You stare at the hyena blankly. He leans in closer. "Yes I get it now," you sigh.
"Good," Mr Giggles breathes into your face. "Seeya lada!"
"Bye," you shout, waving your hand wildly. You leave the classroom with speed.
What have you just witnessed?
