Co-Conspirators: Part One

Art by Doph

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>“Hey, Anon! Are you coming to the Spooktober Fest?”

>Gloria — who doesn’t leave people alone until she gets an answer — practically jams the flyer in your face

>You look the flyer over, glancing back and forth between the poorly photocopied flyer for Ranchview’s Halloween program and the eager eyed goat-girl, all dressed up like she was going to church

>She probably would be in church after school, now that you think about it

>“Well Anon? It’s going to be so much fun! Candy, games, bobbing for apples, costume competitions, music…”

>She leans in uncomfortably close. You can smell the incense she burned at Church before school radiating off her, like perfume radiates off a teenage girl who just learned how to use it

>“…dancing…”

>You choke, and you’re not sure because of the innuendo or the thick smell of incense that blankets Gloria

>Do you think she’s going to leave room for Jesus?

>Luckily, before you can summon up a lie to give to this poor Catholic school-goat turned public school crusader, an annoyed voice from behind you answers

>“Why would anyone want to go to a high school Halloween party, Gloria?”

>The Goat’s eyebrows narrow with anger. You can see the swear words on her lips, but she settles for something more PG

>“Was anyone asking you, Mike?” she stomps her feet

>Mike, your longtime friend, leans over your shoulder and reads the flyer. He grabs it out of your hand and glosses it over

>“This shit doesn’t even end until 2 a.m.! Why would anyone go to this?”

>Gloria, of course, has an answer, as she always does

>“It’s to keep kids from giving in to the devil’s temptations!” she shouts

>Gloria is quick to get like this, which is both funny and dangerous. You know it’s never happened before, but she could easily break a bone or two on your body with those curly horns. You just try to stay out of her way

>Mike, ever the fuckhead, has a quick retort

>“Halloween is the devil’s holiday you know,” he smirks. “Actually, it’s a pagan holiday, too. Wonder what old JC would think of you taking part?”

>Gloria takes a step forward, tongue gated behind her clenched teeth

>Her fingers rip through the flyer in her hand

>“ACTUALLY, YOU IGNORANT DEGENERATE, THOSE ARE THE SAME THINGS. AND FURTHER MORE-“

>You spread the two apart with your hands before they can do the fusion-fuck-you-dance

“Okay, break it up!” you shout

>Mike backs off, and this seems to remind Gloria of her Catholic poise and temperament

>You turn towards the goat with an answer, trying hard to sound as nice as possible

“I’ll think about it, okay, Gloria?”

>Her expression does a creepy 180, almost like someone flipped a switch in her brain

>She stands tall on her hooves and squeals with excitement

>“Okay Nony, but let me know as soon as possible!” she smiles

“Right, will do,” you return her smile, hoping she can’t tell faked emotions from genuine emotions

>Honestly, you don’t think she can

>You and Mike head down the hall, hoping to kill some time before class

>“You’re not really going to that stupid shit, are you?” Mike says

“Fuck no, I’m hanging out with you and Alex.”

>“Thata boy. Thought her charm and good looks swayed you there for a second.”

>You snicker

“Yeah man, it’s those horns. They call it being horny for a reason,” you reply sarcastically. “Besides, you know I have better taste in women than girls like Gloria.”

>“I’ve yet to see proof,” he smacks you on the arm

>Oh, that cheeky fuck. He’s lucky he’s your best friend or you would have kicked his ass years ago

>You still might

>“Also, I hate the way she calls you ‘Nony’ like you’re some kind of pet. It’s creepy and condescending.”

>It kinda bugs you too. You’ve got enough weirdness in your life already, but you’re at least willing to explain this one away

“You know, it’s probably from being homeschooled for like ten years. That’s probably why she’s so weird and s-“

>“-Such a bitch?” Mike cuts in. “I thought being homeschooled was supposed to make you smarter than us poor public-school plebeians. Guess all it does is make you a socially stunted goody-two-shoes.”

>Her and Mike have never gotten along. Mike was — is — the antithesis of everything Gloria stood for. He was loud, forthright, rebellious, and proud of it. But to Gloria, what mattered most was his lack of faith

>You could even say she found it disturbing HURRR DURRR

>When they got together, it was like an unstoppable force colliding with an immovable object

>One not willing to back down, and the other knowing just how to set the other off

>You can still feel the anger radiating off Mike as you two walk down the crowded halls

>You try to make a joke to ease the tension

“You know she’s just horny all the time, right? That’s how those Catholic girls are.”

>“Ew, dude. I don’t wanna think about that.”

“No, look.” You point to the top of your head where your horns would be

“Horny. See?”

>Mike laughs, and you can see the frustration on his face melt away

>“Fuck you, that wasn’t funny.”

>Sure it wasn’t

>The two of you sit in front of your locker chatting until the first-class bell

>People come and go, moving like waters of a hormonal river

>Some humans here and there pepper the crowd of otherwise a majority anthropomorphic population

>It doesn’t bother you, being in a minority (or at least not in the majority), but tensions between humans and anthros have only just lessened after centuries of negativity between the two groups

>Something, perhaps unintentionally, or unnoticed, segregates even the cliques

>Nowadays, everyone just side-steps the issue and the conversations

>Mike is completely unaware of the conversation to begin with as he explains his plans for college

>Senior year is an exciting time for anyone, and for Mike, it’s the last step before he can ‘leave this shitty suburb behind’

>Talking about your future always made you a little nervous

>Your mind wanders to what you’ll do after you graduate next year

>It all seems so overwhelming

>College? Trades? Take a year off? Travel?

>For Mike, it’s all about going to college, ‘finding himself,’ and finding some tight pussy to bury his dick in

>Despite your reserved nature, you kind of envied Mike for his certainty about the future

>You wish your brain worked like his sometimes

>Bah, there’s still a year for you to figure out what you’re going to do for the rest of your life

>That’s not scary

>…Right?

>You’re listening to his babbling when, seemingly for no reason, he stops talking all together

>A look of terror spreads across his face

>“Hey, isn’t that Sam Garlen over there?”

>You look to where he’s pointing and groan

>Sam Garlen: the name alone was enough to make you cringe

>Not to mention the smell

>So, Sam…

>Everybody’s had that one ‘friend’ in their life, the one who you’re too pussy to tell off, right?

>And maybe that one ‘friend‘ is also unbelievably awkward, weird, and can’t take a fucking hint that you don’t want him around?

>Well, that was Sam Garlen

>Mike bids you a quick goodbye, despite your pleadings that he takes you with him

>“What, and risk Sam following us? Nah, he’s your friend. You deal with him.”

>You stamp your feet in anger as Mike slips into the moving crowd

“HE’S NOT MY FRIEND YOU ASSHOLE!” you shout after him

>“H-Hey Anon,” Sam’s weak voice squeaks behind you

>You jump a little

>Sam is standing behind you, hands shoved into the pocket of his oversized, dirty hoodie, his head cast downwards, greasy brown hair covering his eyes

>God damn he moves fast, you didn’t even see him sneak up on you

>“W-What were you and Mike t-t-talking about?”

>You breathe a small sigh of relief. He must have not heard your conversation, or at least he’s pretending not to

“Just talking about our plans for Halloween, nothing serious,” you reply sharply, hoping he gets the hint

>He doesn’t. In fact, when you mention Halloween, his broad rabbit’s ears prick up a little

>He raises his head timidly and brushes his cropped brown hair out of his eyes

>“H-Halloween?” he stammers, catching your uninterested gaze before returning his focus to the floor

>“A-A-Are you going t-to the Sp-Spooktob-“

>You cut him off

“Dunno yet man, our plans are really up in the air right now. We haven’t decided anything.”

>Which was a total lie, but you can’t stand to hear him talk sometimes. You think his parents were too poor or too stupid to correct his stutter or his anxiety issues

>And now their 18-year-long-bad-decision is your problem

>Fucking poor people

>“Oh h-haha, w-well me too y-you know. L-Lots to do, lots of f-f-friends to make plans w-with…”

>Now this was just getting sad. You know he has nobody else. He follows you around like a lost puppy

>Sam anxiously twists his washed-out brown ears and shuffles in palce a bit awkwardly

>You kinda wonder if that hurts, but class is about to start, so you need to wrap this up

“Did you need something, Sam?”

>“O-Oh yeah!” He says as he swings his ratty backpack over his shoulder and dumps it out onto the floor

>A mountain of garbage comes spilling out, almost like his backpack is vomiting

>Well, it looks sick, which complements the rest of his attire; a tremendously oversized green hoodie, baggy sweatpants, generic sneakers, and to top it all off, none of it looks like he’s washed it in weeks

>Sam quickly digs through the pile of crumpled papers, notebooks, broken pencils, a REALLY ratty comic book, and whatever else he’s been keeping in there since the dawn of time

>You check your phone and pray he finds what he’s trying to autistically show you before class starts

>His hands emerge from the pile holding a small red book, which he extends towards you

>“D-Do you k-know what t-this is?”

>You squint at him

“Did you look through it yet to find out? There’s nothing on the cover.”

>He squeaks a little and pulls the book out of your face

>“Yes b-b-but I can’t r-r-read it, I-I-I never learned c-c-cursive,” he says, flipping open the rather thin text. “A-And s-since you’re always r-reading books, I t-thought you…could…umm…”

>You take the book from him and read through it, but you have to admit, you can’t parse it either

>At least not in the hallways, on the LITERAL clock

>This book is page after page of this really crooked and spidery scrawl, an uglier kind of cursive than what you’ve seen your grandparents write

>It looks like someone wrote this with a fountain pen, as some letters have trails where the ink seems to have bled off the pen. You spin through the book pretty quickly after, having concluded that there’s nothing of value in it

“I have no clue what this says. It’s like a conspiracy theorist’s diary or something. Where did you get this, anyway?”

>He hesitates and starts turning the pages of the book like you did

>“T-The bathroom… F-F-Found it b-b-behind a toilet.”

>Well, that was gross and all, but you honestly need to get going because class is about to start

>You say goodbye and slip into the crowd, finally able to breathe a sigh of relief

>God, that kid needs friends. Or at least some medication

>You glance over your shoulders back at him

>He’s piling all the junk back into his backpack, quickly getting swallowed into the crowd, so much smaller than everyone else around him

>You spy a familiar-looking Spooktober Fest leaflet go into his pockets

>Oh shit

>Looks like you dodged a bullet

>Well it’s Friday, and so you probably won’t have to see him for the rest of the day

>Time to just take it easy

>“H-Hey Anon…”

>God damnit, how does he keep finding you?

>You set down your sandwich and glare at the tiny rabbit

>Of all the days where you, Mike, and Alex didn’t go out for lunch, it had to be today

“Hey Sam, what do you need?”

>“O-Oh, I jus-just never see you in the l-lunchroom hahaha….” he trails off, not knowing what else to say

>“S-S-So, you eating l-l-lunch?”

>No, you’re writing your suicide note

“Yeah, usually I’m out with my friends, but I have stuff to do today so I’m eating quickly,” you tell him, giving yourself a way out

>In truth, you and Mike don’t have the same lunch period, and Alex skipped school today, leaving you to fend for yourself

>But you can’t tell Sam that

>Why does this kid keep following you, anyway?

>You get that he’s oblivious to how much you’re not interested in being his friend, and that his weirdness probably makes him dependent on you, but God, even the other special needs kids can take a hint

>Maybe he’s got a crush on you?

>…ew….

>The last thing you need is to deal with this awkward gay boy, but you don’t know how to proceed

“Where do you normally sit?” you sigh. Guess you’re stuck until you can finish eating

>You cram food into your mouth with comedic velocity

>He lets out a nervous squeak and starts twisting his ears again

>Really? This is such a simple question, god damn

>“We-Well, I e-eat…ummm…I d-don’t really eat h-here…”

“Why?”

>He shrinks a little further into himself

>“Too m-many p-p-people.”

>What did he mean by this?

>“I c-can’t eat with the j-jocks,” he explains

>You look over to where a crowd of surly looking students are sitting

>There’s at least twenty of them packed onto a long table, and they’re the loudest in the whole lunchroom

>It’s all large anthros, but there’s a separate, identical group of young humans wearing their letter jackets one table over

>That’s the weird part about athletics. They’re fully integrated here, but still so… divided?

>“C-Can’t eat w-with the n-nerds”

>The nerds spread out towards the back of the lunchroom, all of them rail thin and poorly dressed, poring over their AP textbooks. You know most of them because you’re in the same advanced classes, but you don’t associate with them on principle

>They, at the very least, have humans integrated with their clique

>Sam continues to list all the groups he can’t sit with

>Theater kids

>Band geeks

>Goths

>Stoners

>Preps

>Popular kids

>Punks

>Slackers

>Cheerleaders

>So… everyone

>Except you, apparently

>To be fair, you and your little friend group don’t really fit in well with the other kids either, but you had each other, and three’s a crowd, right?

>But GOD do you hate cliques and groups. The drama, the politics… you can see why Mike and Alex want to graduate so badly

>Still, he’s piqued your interests. If he can’t eat in the lunchroom…

“Where do you actually eat then?”

>He shuffles nervously

>“I-I d-don’t.”

“You don’t what? Eat in the lunchroom?”

>“…E-Eat lunch.”

>You raise your eyebrows

>How could he not have lunch?

>Even if he’s poor as shit, the school practically gives kids like him lunch

“Not even the reduced lunch?”

>He shakes his head

>“I s-save it for d-dinner so I don’t-“ he pauses, eyes suddenly splitting open with fear

>He inhales sharply

>You stop chewing

“Are you okay?”

>He shakes his head, brought back down from his sudden, heart stopping insight

>“Y-Yes, f-fff-fine.”

“Right…So why do you save your lunch? You kinda got distracted there for a second.”

>“I’m just not hh-h-hungry enough to e-eat.”

>That would explain why he’s so creepy and skinny

>Can malnutrition cause the dark circles under his eyes too?

>He’s a shit liar because you could see him jealously eying your lunch from behind his greasy bangs throughout this train wreck of a conversation

>But why would he lie?

>Whatever, you just need to tolerate him for one more year

>You look down at your half-eaten peanut butter and jelly sandwich, then back at Sam, who’s trying hard to look busy with the drawstrings on his rotten hoodie

>Man, you really fucking love peanut butter and jelly. This kid better appreciate this

>The lord giveth

>You reluctantly extend the sandwich towards him and ask if he wants the rest of it

>He hesitantly accepts the offer and sits down to eat

>That wasn’t really an invitation to sit with you, goddamnit.

>More like a ‘get lost, kid’ sort of thing

>You sigh, hoping he takes the hint

Instead, he quietly stares at the table while taking mouse-sized bites of the sandwich, swallowing hard

>He seems to be really taking his time with it, which is killing you, because this silence is once again awkward, and people are giving you looks

>Oh, you know. The looks. The ones that every textbook and parent says not to give a person of another species; looks that could get you fired in a professional setting?

>Humans and anthros alike pass by your table, staring at you and Sam. Some in disbelief, others with malice. The jocks especially don’t look too happy

>They’re not cavalier enough to start something, but their faces say it all

>‘What the fuck are you doing?’ they say

>And you want to say ‘I’m trying here!’ right back

>You shove food in your mouth a little faster

>You NEED to get this over with

>It’s Sam who breaks the silence this time

>“O-O-Oh! I almost f-forgot! I did s-some more drawings!”

>He digs through his rotten backpack again, and you internally groan. He’s always trying to show you his drawings and doodles

>He pulls a handful of torn and crumpled papers out of his backpack and carefully spreads them open on the table

>Well, actually, he was pretty good at drawing; you had to admit. You just didn’t care all that much about superheroes and comics. You liked books much more

>He leafs out his drawings, all of them in pencil or pen, and, not one to stray from habit, Sam’s drawn only superheroes again

>Brawny human men with capes soaring above city skylines, striking macho poses, smashing their veiny fists into the malignant faces of evil

>Buxom human women lassoing between buildings, hauling the elderly and children along with them to safety

>Another one of them is an anthro of some kind, a baseball bat slung over his shoulders, a bandanna across his hooded face

>Man, you gotta show this kid Watchmen, or Transmetropolitan one day; give him some taste

>You’re practically inhaling your bag of chips as Sam tries his damndest to explain each drawing and each hero to you

>“A-A-And this g-g-guy is called t-the Electric T-Texan b-because—“

>A sudden explosion of voices and shouts cuts off Sam, filling up the lunchroom

>There’s a crowd of students at the far end of the room all shouting and jeering at something

>You stand on top of the lunch table to get a better vantage

>Sam remains seated, nervously tucking in to himself

>You scan the crowd for something, straining to see over the heads of students

>Suddenly, the crowd parts, and a well-dressed young otter, a prep named Jordan, comes tumbling out from amongst the ranks and crashes against a nearby table. Blood pours from his nose

>A large gray wolf, decked out in his red-letter jacket and dark denim, comes bounding out, one eye swollen shut, frothing at the mouth with rage

>That was Trevor Nelson, the captain of the football team

>Jordan spins out of the way of Trevor’s crushing blow just in time, launching himself towards the larger mammal’s face with a feral yell

>Cries of ‘Go for the eyes!’ or ‘Fuck him up!’ ring out

>What the FUCK is going on?

>The jocks and the preps almost NEVER had issues with each other, and here they are fighting like wild animals

>Another development catches your eyes: Gloria spearheading a group of frightened looking teachers and staff down the stairs, making a beeline towards the lunchroom

>She doesn’t move fast in her ankle-length denim skirt and buckled shoes, but damnit if she’s not trying

>With the authorities on their way, this wouldn’t last much longer, but the two anthros continue savaging each other like they’re not about to get suspended and kicked off their respective sports teams

>When the teachers finally pull the two apart and restrain them, there’s a puddle of blood and torn fur all over the floor

>“If anyone wants a suspension, then stick around! If not, go back to class!” Mrs. Lang, a mustang, shouts

>The crowd almost immediately disperses at the threat of referrals and write-ups

>A small group of five goths, led by Vanessa Doermuth, are the last to leave the lunchroom

>You can hear them chuckling, clearly having enjoyed the death match between the ‘normies’

>Man, of all the groups out there, you might hate the goths the most. Bunch’a antisocial freaks who hate anyone who doesn’t hate life…

>Vanessa’s group strolls past Gloria, who parasitically hangs on the fringes of the teachers, as if she had some valuable input to give

>The doe puts on a contented sneer as she walks by

>In response, the goat stamps her hooves and grits her teeth, trying to convey some silent message

>Vanessa flips her off, and Gloria, who is flustered and holding back her very un-Christian urges, defensively shoves the large crucifix around her neck towards the goths as they ascend the stairs

>They laugh even louder at her

>“Anon, Sam,” Mrs. Lang snaps her fingers. “C’mon, let’s go.”

>As you’re packing your stuff, you notice Sam isn’t moving. He’s got his head pointed down, his drawings still littering the table

>His hands remain deep in the pockets of his hoodie

>And he’s trembling all over

>You knock twice on the table

“Sam? You okay?”

>His head shoots up

>You can see how wide his amber eyes are, even from behind his uncropped bangs

>He shakes his head and shivers

>“S-Sorry, yeah. I’m f-fine. I-I’ll s-see you l-later,” he says quietly

>You go to leave, but you see Sam still isn’t moving

>You open your mouth to say something, but Mrs. Lang glares at you

“Have a good weekend Sam,” you say, and you make for the door

“I’m telling you dude, it was like they’d gone rabid or something. I’ve never seen two mammals tear at each other like that before”

>Mike tells you to keep your voice down and not to use the ‘r-word’ so loudly in public, especially around the Shop N’ Save after school

>He asks if you want to get your ass kicked

>You apologize, but keep going on with your story

“Like have the jocks and the preps EVER had problems with each other?”

>“Not since I’ve been at Ranchview. Carly would probably know, since she graduated a few years ago. She used to be a cheerleader, so maybe she’s still chummy with some of the cheerleading coaches,” he says somewhat sarcastically

“Seriously, I wish you were there to see it. We’re talking claws out, face mauling stuff here, Mikey. You would have loved it. Real video game shit.”

>“Real video game shit,” he mutters, almost laughing. “Where did my pretentious friend go?”

“Where’s my loud-mouthed friend always up in everyone’s face?”

>Mike picks up a basket and starts heading for the candy aisle, ignoring your teasing

>“Hey, did Alex tell you he was working today?” he asks. “He might give us the ‘proletariat discount.’”

>You shrug your shoulders and follow Mike down the candy aisle

“I never asked him. Maybe he’s working, I don’t know. He skipped school today, so I didn’t see hi-“

>And right on cue, a voice crackles over the store’s loudspeaker system

>“Attention shoppers at the Ranchview Shop N’ Save. We hope you’re having a great shopping experience with us today, because all you’re doing is filling the bellies of the pigs that exploit us.”

>“To all you Shop N’ Save Smile Associates out there: every single commodity you sell is another link in your own chains. The violence against the gentle laborer’s soul shall stand no longer!”

>“Smile Associates, lift your heavy eyes! Cast down the shackles of corporate slavery! You have nothing to lose but your green aprons! You have nothing to los-“

>There’s a sound of a brief struggle on the mic, and then an older, out of breath voice broadcasts through the store

>“Ladies and gentlemen, we apologize for that. Also attention all shoppers, visit our seasonal aisle and pick up those last minute Halloween treats. Bags of peanut butter cups are now buy-one-get-one-half-off. Thank you.”

>The speaker crackles off, and the shoppers go about their business like nothing happened, shambling down their respective aisles.

>Yep, Alex was at work

>You find Alex by tracking his striking yellow beanie, which towers above the stooped rows of the pharmaceutical aisle where his stunt on the PA system landed him

>He’s busy assisting a mother bear and her completely-embarrassed-this-is-so-not-happening cub find estrus blockers, scent masks, things that’d make a vulnerable and confused cub going through puberty blush redder than a Mormon walking through the underwear section of a department store

>The shelves are all picked clean, so they’re not having much luck

>Is it a breeding season or something?

>You squint at the cub, who is trying her damndest to stay as far away from her mother as she socially can

>Wait, you think she goes to your school or something? You know you’ve seen her before

>She must be a freshman

>You lose sight of her as a crowd piles up around Alex. Mostly mothers, sometimes daughters, and you can recognize most of those. They’re all cheerleaders

>“I’m sorry everyone, but I promise you, we’re all out of estrus blockers and scent masks. We’re getting a fresh shipment tonight, so please-“

>“You’re sure you don’t have any in the back?” the mother bear begs. “My daughter’s more riled up than two rabbits on their honeymoon!”

>“MOM WHAT THE HELL!?” her daughter looks like she’s on the verge of tears

>“Nope, we’re completely out,” Alex responds. The crowd closes in tighter and tighter

>A frustrated request to speak to the manager echoes through the mob

>Feeling like he’d finally found common ground with the madness of the crowd, Alex sighs and smiles

>“You don’t wanna speak to Mr. Smith, trust me. He doesn’t understand our plight, sitting up there in his office chair, driving his 2004 Honda Civic-“

>“Excuse me, but did you just say OUR plight?” a fox steps forward. “What does a human know about what our children are going through? Aren’t you like 16?”

>“Actually, I’m 18, and BELIEVE ME! I understand what it’s like being under the heel of the state. The oppressor is up there right now, and let me tell you, he will not listen to reason!“

>The crowd erupts in anger, closing in around him

>Oh fuck, this is bad. They’re about to eat your dumb shit friend alive

>You freeze up, not knowing what to do, and then you curse yourself for always being like this

>Luckily, Mike is two steps ahead of you

>“Comrade Alexi!” Mike waves his arms

>Alex turns towards us and flashes the look of a man about to die

>“We could use some ‘assistance’ at the checkout!”

>Relief spreads across Alex’s face

>He nods and tries to squeeze through the crowd as politely as he can

>This only angers the mob further

>“I’ll be right back folks, let me go talk to Mr. Smith for you and see where we are with the shipment. Shop N’ Save thanks you for your patience!” he shrieks

>He then sprints towards the registers

>Mike keeps pace, but you’re having trouble not looking awkward. A quick glance over your shoulder reveals a dozen hateful stares, the only kind of hate that can come from a middle-aged woman having a poor shopping experience

>One shudders to imagine what would happen had Alex tried to handle this alone

>“Jesus Christ, did you see how rabid mob was looking at you?” Mike practically shouts as Alex rings you two up

>You glare at Mike, heart skipping a beat as he lets the ‘r-word’ fly freely around so many anthros

>Alex seems a little flustered, but continues scanning things

>“You’re not kidding. I’ve never seen people behave like that in my entire three years at this tour of duty at this sweatshop.”

>“Well you know how they get when it’s that time of the year for them,” Mike says

“That’s not until like November for most anthros, dude. Don’t you pay attention in class?” you bite back, sounding a little bitter

>Mike shrugs

>“You know I could give a shit about class at this point. I’ll figure that stuff out in the future.”

>Alex finishes ringing you two up before you can respond

>“Alright, your total comes to sixteen dollars and sixty-three, and with the proletariats discount…, that’ll be four dollars,” Alex says.

>You smack a five on the counter and tell Alex to keep the change

>Knowing him, that’s exactly what he’ll do

>Outside in the crisp, late-afternoon air, you pause for a second

>There’s a steady stream of anthros heading into the store, almost all of them women, and a lot of them you recognize from school

>It’s almost entirely cheerleaders

>What the fuck is going on?

>Mike is staring too

>“…You think they’re all-“

“Most definitely,” you answer

>On the car ride home, you turn down the music down a little

“Is it just me or has today been really weird?”

>“What do you mean?” Mike replies, staring out the passenger window at all the flashy businesses

“I mean, like, weird for Ranchview. The fight today, the sudden surge in hormonal cycles, that sort of stuff.”

>“That’s not a bad thing. At least something interesting is happening around town.”

“I guess so, but it’s still really fucking weird.”

>Frankly, you just want to go home and relax for a bit

>You pull up outside Mike’s ordinary house, which is tucked between other ordinary houses in an ordinary middle-class suburb

“Am I still picking you up tonight?” you say to Mike as he unbuckles his seatbelt

>“If you don’t mind. Oh, and maybe kill your headlights when you pull up. I’m ‘technically’ not allowed to leave the house this weekend.”

“What did you do now?”

>“Nothing, I swear. Now,” he stretches out a fist to you, and you bump it

>“See you tonight bro, and thanks for the ride!”

>The drive back home is slow. Not because of traffic, but because you cut around town and enjoy the drive

>There’s this golden light coming from the cool and cloudless sky, and the trees are losing their leaves

>They’ve ripened up and are almost… blossoming into their fall colors

>When the wind came, those golden leaves would flutter down from their branches like tiny crispy bird feathers

>Lately you’ve come to appreciate the seasons and the pace of life in Ranchview a bit more

>Things are going to change when you graduate, like it or not

>All of your friends are going to move far away, and you’re going to be stuck at the crossroads of life holding onto everything you’ve built

>But for now, you’re going to enjoy the fall. It’s beautiful out here

>Home is… well, it’s not as beautiful

>You flick on the lights in the kitchen

>You think of calling out to someone, but you know nobody is home

>Mom and Dad are away on vacation, and yeah, you like to be alone, but it’s getting to you

>Home has felt so empty lately

>You throw your backpack down in your room and hop on your computer, pulling up some music and shitty forums that you KNOW you shouldn’t be browsing anymore

>Guess you just need to kill time before tonight