The Losers of House Haycrimson

"Guess who's got the greatest girlfriend ever!" Eel sings, kicking the door open.
"I'm assuming it's me," I mutter back, sketching a pattern onto transfer paper.
"Yeah it's you," she beams. "I got my transcript changed."
"To say?"
"'Eel.' With both M and F checked," she huffs with a flop onto my bed.
"Congrats."
"Oh come on, Facty Frankie," she whines. "I thought we had a date tonight."
"We do. But it's the afternoon," I inform her while pivoting around on my stool. "And I have a design that I want out of my head."
"Fiiine. Can I at least borrow your stencil?"
"No."
She groans. "But I wanna throw it throw Maurice's heeeaaad."
"That would get you expelllleddd," I mimic while setting up my sewing machine.
"He deserves it."
"I know he does, but could you please leave me alo-"
She's already out of the room.
"Higher Education, here we come," I roll my eyes and start sewing.
Essie's Practical Academy of Young Magic Users is seen as a haven for those who attend. Well, except for six students in the House of Haycrimson.