Yuki’ POV

My day had gone like I expected it. I clamoured off the bus in a sweat, the driver refusing to turn on the air conditioner. I doodled throughout the entire math class, trying to block out the same speech I always here, every first day. Same teacher saying they didn’t handle shenanigans, that we shouldn’t have to worry about the class being too fast paced, before promptly changing their mind the next day and assigning two quizzes a week. There was the same collecting of papers and lost looks while looking for the next class, and the same disappointed sigh as you realize your teacher was one of the fabled ‘worst teachers on campus’.

Unfortunately, whoever was ruling the skies above decided that this wasn’t punishment enough. She had to be here too. She arrived late in class, right before it was going to end, but no one noticed or cared. The math teacher just continued reading his little sports magazine, completely ignoring us.

“Yuki! It’s you! I thought I recognized your disgustingly matter hair, and your weird almond eyes. I almost missed you and those disgusting chicken scratch kindergarten drawings you do!” An all too familiar voice fills the air, and I look up in anger and annoyance. She just HAD to be here.

“Monique! Hey, I was wondering where that fishy smell was coming from! But I can’t tell if it's from your breath, or between your legs, maybe you should get that checked out, I’m worried about you, hun.” I respond, trying my very best to keep my cool as I look her up and down. Same ‘perfect’ physique, same long green chemically straightened hair, and same bright pink long nails wrapped around a Moondollars’ coffee cup. I grimace and look back down at my sketch book, detailing small scales on a dragon.

“Oh Yuki, I know you’ve had a crush on me since fourth grade, but you really need to get over it. It's really sad.” She smirks, tearing out the page of my sketchbook and crumpling it up. I don’t respond out of shock, angry she brought up our past. That was too far. I stand up and open my mouth, ready to tell her off, but someone else says the words for me.

“Monique, babe… Don’t you think that's a bit far? You really shouldn’t mess with people like that.” A quiet voice says from the doorway, and I look over to realize that it was my best friend. Here to save the day again.

＼(°ロ＼)~~~Magical Time Transition~~~(／ロ°)／

The slap was heard throughout the classroom. I look up from the notebook i was slowly putting away, blocking out the sound around me as I had figured Will was handling the situation. I look, confused as to why Will would slap his own girlfriend, when the situation dawned on me. The entire class were not so discreetly hiding their phones behind books or jacket sleeves, recording the scene in front of us. Will standing there awkwardly, staring at Monique with wide eyes, a hand clutching his cheek as a red welt began to cover the left of his face. Monique stood in front of him, her right hand slowly lowering, her eyes cold and unforgiving.

Before anyone could say anything, she straightened herself, plastered a large smile on her face, and kissed Will’s cheek.

“Will, honey. I told you not to talk to me so rudely! You know what happens when you do those things, it angers me. I really hate hurting you, but sometimes that’s the way it has to be.” She says casually, and Will just nods, too afraid to say anything. Before I even realize what I’m doing, I stand up, and march to the front. I couldn’t believe he just let that happen, or that she even did that in the first place. That really does explain all those bruises he would always get in Middle School last year…

I don’t hesitate as I walk up to her, and pull her out the door, by her long shiny hair. I don’t say a word, as she struggles against me, screaming obscenities as I quietly thank Will for always dragging me to the gym with him. I open the door with one hand, and pull on her hair harder, into the sunlight and open air in the courtyard. I ignore the gaping faces as we pass the students, angry at the world, fueled by it. I let go of her, and straighten myself, facing her, suddenly aware of what I was doing.

She looks at me with despise, anger fills my eyes with red. The bell rings, and more students join the circle accumulating around us, fueling the cheers of bloodlust. I can’t remember who throws the first punch, who’s blood gets on my knuckles, or who tackles me and shouts to stop. I just remember that slap. That little slap she gave him.

Naomi’s POV

I was politely sitting in some fluffed up office chair, a steaming teacup filling my nose with smells of herbs and sweet sugars. How in the world did this manage to happen? Who knew the Principal had such a friendly hospitality. I mean, it was only five minutes ago where I was shyly shaking hands with some burly brisk woman, and being practically pushed into her office with offers of sweets, teas, or pastries. I cross my legs and run my finger along the engravings of the outside of the teacup, feeling the beautifully crafted shapes. Silently, I took a small sip of the warm rose tea, the flavour mixed with condensed milk and lavender, filling my senses. I smile to myself, barely listening to my mother conversing with the principal, whilst she chastised Maya for taking too many sweets at the same time.

Ms. Kaur was her name, and I didn’t have to see her to know she was a tall confident woman who worked for what she wanted, and wasn’t afraid to do what was necessary for the good of her students and peers. Basically the ideal person to get stuck with in a zombie apocalypse. I take another sip of my tea, taking in all the other strange sounds and smells wafting from corners of the room, like small spectres whispering their secrets.

Zesty persimmon wafted from a small bowl in front of me, which I had almost knocked over earlier. Cinnamon and tea tree mixed in the air, cedarwood coming from the doors and desk themselves. This woman must be wiccan, I think, while taking in the smell of burning sage coming from a far corner of the room.

I set my teacup on the small cold saucer, placing both on the table in front of me, wary for anything that I might knock over. I straighten myself and push my hair back, enjoying the small rays coming from behind Ms. Kaur, assuming that there must be a window or vent of some sort as I marvel at the silent beauty of the room around me. Sometimes it was easier to know beauty was there, without seeing. Everything was pleasant and dainty, not hints of dust I could detect, despite the fan I could feel overhead. This was definitely a nice kept woman. I was just about to ask of my schedule, when a loud shrill cry coming from the door leading outside filled our peaceful room.

“Fight! Fight! Fight!” Screamed the loud voices, cheering and whooping filling the air, student and adult voices alike filling the air. A few moment later there were screams of horror, and our door was thrown open a kid yelling for Ms.Kaur to come and help. I felt sick, not wanting to smell blood or hear any tragedies, and begged to go to the bathroom. My sister offered to take me, saying she saw one on our way in, so I rushingly follow her before my mother can say otherwise. As I pass, I accidentally knock into some poor student, and hastily apologize, before running with Maya to the bathroom, locking myself in until all the shouting stops and quiets down. Some good day...