The plan: avoid those two idiots like the plague before they get me into any more trouble. 

The foil: humans suck at avoiding the plague. In fact, if anything, humans like to put our heads in the plague bucket and gobble-gobble like Thanksgiving leftovers, because that's our God-given right, decided by a bunch of white slave owners who thought tuberculosis was an evil ghost that lived in your blood, and the only cure was to sacrifice a foal during the next harvest moon. 

Case in point: I totally forgot about the sexual harassment talk my little plan from yesterday sprung into this school. And guess who I'm sitting between in the gym? 

"alright! first class' off," says Brayden on my right, sipping a Capri Sun through a metal straw like a vampire would drink nonchalantly from a cup as their unexpected guests eat and drink to their heart's content. "thanks a bunch, ayden. i don't even know how to divide. hated that class."

"Brother," says Hayden on my left, a football cupped in his prosciutto hands, "first class is English, not math. You don't have to divide there."

"oh, word? cuz they introduced letters to math last year. pretty sure now they gonna put numbers into letters this year. next thing you know, they gonna add music to colors, and cooking to sports. hey, wanna throw this thing in the recycling bin? i would go, but...naw."

Hayden grabs the empty Capri Sun, tossing a three-pointer from across the room into the green recycling bin. His bad-boy Jock powers are off the chart. "Man, I wish they added cooking to sports. I could go for a culinary scholarship right about now."

"you know i could spot you the dough, right?" says Brayden. "i am a billionaire, after all."

Of course he is a billionaire. I only need for one of us to be a werewolf to fill the bad boy bingo card. 

"You know I don't wanna be in debt with the mafia!" says Hayden. "I prefer to ask for a student loan, work my ass off, and be in debt to a faceless bank that will suck my soul with interests and high rates until I die, and my kids have to bear that burden. Such is the American way."

Brayden takes another Capri Sun, taking the plastic straw and giving it to Jungkook — which is sitting behind us, along with Harry — and stabbing it with the metal straw. "it ain't a mafia. it's a toilet paper business. very legit. very health conscious. all our products are biodegradable."

"Brother, all paper is biodegradable," says Hayden. 

"your face is biodegradable."

"Well, yeah," says Hayden. "Brother, you should pay more attention to biology this year."

"nah, i stopped paying attention when they started to add chemistry in, and chemistry is just old-timey math. you know how i feel about math. can't divide numbers, can't divide an atom."

"You're not going to divide any atom. This ain't the Manhattan Project."

"that's some world war two shit right there," says the sipping boy. "now they're adding math to history? man, fuck school. jesus didn't die for this, ain't that right, ayden? bro? friend? muchacho? brosef?"

Shit, he's onto me. You see, dear hypothetical reader, my plan is simple: just stay perfectly still, pretending to be a sexy leather wall ornament, and maybe they will leave me alone, until I can crawl back into the vent. They are gonna be the end of me if I keep associating with these two. 

Now, you might be asking: Ayden, you sexy son of a good lady, why don't you stand up and move elsewhere? And the answer is: whoever thought of putting an entire high school in a cramped basketball court/gym clearly was following movie cliches, and not basic fire hazard protections. There is no social distancing here — I can smell everyone's breakfast here. Gross. 

The only space available is perhaps the only worse place I could be: between Laila and Leeland, both dressed almost the same, and both snickering at us. 

"Omg, Brayden, Ayden, and Hayden sitting next to each other!" says Laila. "Is this what my dream told me yesterday ugh they're getting worse maybe they have the answer???"

"I wanna be the mustard of that hunk sandwich, ugh," says Leeland. "Restrict my airflow you attractive Father figures."

You know, maybe a sexual harassment talk is what this heathen school needs. 

Fortunately, I don't have to answer Brayden, as the imposing, if small figure of Mrs. Strickland takes center stage with two cursory taps of an overblown microphone. Chorded, of course, as the infrastructure of this school is stuck in the Clinton era. 

"Good morning, students," says the principal, with a posse of underpaid teachers behind her that look as uncomfortable being there as us. One notable addition to them is Lee Vazquez, the student council president, looking professional in a beige skirt and I'm monologuing again. Fuck. See? This is what being around these two idiots do to me. Making me break grammar rules by veering off track during dialogue tags. Now I have to make a new paragraph. 

"I thank you all for being here today," says the principal. "As you are all aware, we had a very public and shameful incident yesterday with one of our new students in the cafeteria. Now, I'm not going to perpetuate any rumors and say the names of the people involved-"

Everyone turns to look at me. I think they already know. 

"- but we at Hill Valley Mountain Woods High School have a zero-tolerance for sexual harassment. Now, since it is the start of the school year, the inciting party has been suspended until further notice-" 

Judging by Hayden's jolly fist bump, I'm somewhat glad that my plan worked. Somewhat.

"In this politically charged climate, we cannot let even one instance of sexual harassment go by without being addressed. We take this completely seriously, which is why we have our very own Hill Valley Mountain Woods Timber Wolf mascot, Timmy the Timber Wolf, to teach us about sexual harassment and how to avoid it!"

What comes out of the auditorium is not a mascot, but a fursuit. A straight-up furry costume used to yiff. There has been yiffing on that costume. The bug eyes, the blue fur, the red bandana, the whole shebang. 

I'm sorry, but the last person I would take sexual harassment lessons, besides Hollywood executives and priests, is a furry. That's like letting a wolf tend the sheeps. A furry wolf, and the sheeps are also furries. You get the disgusting picture. 

"Hey kids, I'm Timmy! Timmy the Timber Wolf, and I'm here to talk to you about sexual harassment, the No-no square, and why you shouldn't touch it!" says the furry, leaning into the microphone. 

"weird, sexy horse," whispers Brayden. 

"That's a wolf," whispers Hayden back. 

"they're both furry and have sharp teeth. don't see the difference."

The billionaire, ladies and gentlemen, and everyone in between and beyond. 

"Now, what is sexual harassment?" asks the furry, taking a piece of paper from its behind. "According to Wikipedia, Sexual harassment is a type of harassment involving the use of explicit or implicit sexual overtones, like inappropriate touching, or suggestive language. Um, yes? Are we open to questions?"

Everyone turns around to stare at me, yet again, even though I haven't done anything. This is bullshit. 

Wait, this time, they're not looking at me. They're looking right beside me, to my right. Oh, no. 

Brayden's arm is raised up, slightly waving to catch the furry's attention. What now?

"Mr. Messina-Park," says Mrs. Strickland, taking the microphone to herself, "I'm glad that you could join us today, after what happened with your father." 

"Boss is safe," whispers Jungkook. 

"The snitch got stitched," whispers Harry Styles. "Stitched into an early grave. Wait, that sucked, lemme try that again."

"thank's, coach," says Brayden. 

"I'm the principal," says the principal. 

"then why are we in the gym if it's not for gym class, coach?" 

The silence that followed can be cut with a knife, if Brayden just weren't so dull. See, Harry? That's how you pun it.

Mrs. Strickland takes a deep breath before shaking whatever malicious thoughts that entered her brain just watching him smirk blankly, I assume. "We are not open for questions yet, Mr. Messina-Park."

"just a quicky, before i forget," says Brayden. "c'mon, just a quick question. won't bother again. pretty please?"

"Okay, sure, but make it fast," says the principal. 

"yeah, just wanted to ask, what's suggestive language?" he asks. 

The principal looks at him, then at the teachers behind her, and finally to the furry, looking, perhaps, for an answer to how her life turned out like this. I do it all the time, I know that look. "It means words and phrases that allude to a sexual conduct, Mr. Messina-Park."

"oh, dip. is fuck a suggestive word?" 

I've never heard an entire room gasp at the same time, but now I have. The oxygen around me diminished by 25% percent in one fell swoop. 

"Mr. Messina-Park!" says the principal. "You can't say the F word!"

"which one? free? froyo? francis?"

"No, you dummy" says Hayden. "Fuck. You can't say fuck!" 

"oh, dip!" says Brayden. "but i say fuck all the fucking time without it being sexual. it's in my fucking nature, for fuck's sake." 

"Just what is wrong with you two?!" says Mrs. Strickland. 

"sorry, got diagnosed with a.d.h.d," says Brayden. 

For a moment, the principal backs down with a look of pity. But Brayden is a fucking dumb bitch that drinks his dumb bitch juice with his dumb straw, so he surely will find a way to fuck it up. 

"Oh, I'm sorry, honey," says the Principal. 

"yeah, i have a.d.h.d. a deliciously hard dick! ain't that right, ayden? you've been hella quiet. liked my zinger? bro? broseidon? fist bump?"

Again, another gasp, followed by what I can only describe as a chicken coop being raided by a man in a furry wolf suit. 

"Mr. Messina-Park, Mr. Gomez, Mr. Wilson, you have made a mockery out of this very serious issue!" says the principal. "You three, detention, after school!" 

"But I literally haven't said anything this entire chapter!" I say. "This is bullshit. And that man is clearly in a fursuit! He even has unidentified white splotches near the crotch."

"Not a word!" says the principal. "Go wait in the hallway until we are finished. I'll have a word with you later." 

As I stand up with the two hottest idiots around, everyone's eyes are pinned on me. But only one set of eyes stand among the rest. 

The steely eyes of Lee Vazquez, looking straight at me, past the glasses, and shaking her head ever so slightly in disappointment. I don't know why, but that hurts more than anything. 

"worth it, wasn't it?" says Brayden. "man, i missed school. so much fuckery to be had. or is it have? we're gonna have so much fun, bro." 

I wait until we are outside to punch him as strongly as I can in the arm.