Ugh. God fucking damn it, just leave me alone already. Couldn't she take a hint? No, no she could not. You knew that, Tal.

There she was, silently intruding my vision like a stray mutt looking for table scraps, and her dark eyes were just as, if not more, wide and sulky. What the hell did she want this time?

To tell the truth, a silent Alda was possibly the most unsettling thing my mind could conjure, but creeping before me in her flowery, oversized long-sleeved summer dress, she just looked... cute? Cute? No, vulnerable. 

This girl clearly couldn't handle even a second without attention, and I wasn't going to give it to her. She probably wanted me to call her a creep. Nope, not happening, you little freak. 

This was probably the second time she'd actually faced me like an actual person, and from the only other time it happened, I only knew to expect the worst, most mortifying outcome. What, was she going to grab my tit and diagnose my cup-size as a roundabout way of complimenting me?

"Hey, don't beat yourself up about it, you may be a fat-ass prostitute, but at least your flat chest balances it out," hm? Yeah, that's totally something she'd say.

Refusing to make eye-contact with Alda, I noted the slight figure retrieving a can of soda from her laptop bag; joining the Dr. Pepper that hung absently in her off-hand. Sienna Mist. Just what was her angle?

It was then that Alda scuttled over to me, staring down at her feet as she outstretched the arm that held the Sienna Mist. Did she want me to take it? Was this a peace offering, or an insult?

'I... I just remembered you... used to like Sienna Mist...' she squeaked coyly, her voice nearly a whisper; for what I was sure was a first-ever for her. As her head remained turned away, she kept the can held out in offering.

'Used to. It's been seven years, Alda. Keep that swamp water away from me,' I snarled, still unable to look her in the eye. Did she really think nothing had changed? It had been seven fucking years, we weren't friends anymore - hell, we were completely different people - and she has the audacity to offer me my fifteen-year-old self's all-time favorite beverage?

We are different people. She knew me, but she doesn't know me; and I doubt she'd want to.

'Well, what do you like now?' Alda raised her voice as she spun her head to lock eyes with me, pulling me into her intense gaze. 

I felt my heart split in two, when I knew it should have fluttered. Alda wanted to know me. After all these years, she wanted to find out who I was now.

Maybe I wanted to know who this Alda was, too?

'I am impartial to Dr. Pepper,' I said with a smirk, hungrily eyeing the can that hung limply in her other hand.

'But... that's a lukewarm, half-emptied can of soda, and my-' she protested weakly, but I cut her off by snatching the Dr. Pepper from her hand, which gave zero resistance. I swiftly downed the can, then crushed it against my head.

'Buh,' Alda grunted like a lobotomite, and I could've sworn I saw her knees buckle beneath her dress. 

There was no way her socially-inept brain understood the implications of what I'd just done, and I couldn't wait to see the look on her face it finally did register. She'd probably blow a fuse!

'Did- did you just indirectly kiss me?' almost immediately catching on, Alda's eyes stretched wide before she returned my earlier smirk, only more devilish. She then began to rummage through her laptop bag. Oh, shit. What had I gotten myself into?

'Why are you only emotionally lucid when I don't want you to be?' I groaned, watching her dig like some deranged mole as she let the Sienna Mist roll across the pavement. 

She soon returned from her plunder holding a... permanent marker? I just watched her in confusion as she worked, frantically scrawling onto the side of her right knuckle.

'Payback!' she shouted as she thrust her right hand into view, curled and displaying a pale-pink lipstick smear with crudely drawn eyes marked above it. I was so glad we'd gotten here earlier than the rest, or else this would have made for quite the scene.

She proceeded to absolutely one-up me by slobbering all over the smear with a passion and - what I could only describe as savagery - I'd only witnessed in a very specific genre of... film. Not just kissing it, but making out with Hand Talyn.

'Oh, Allie, kiss me~' she projected from the corner of her mouth, attempting ventriloquism with the hand. 'I'll never give you the silent treatment, again, let's have indirect se-' she continued in a Muppet-esc mockery of my voice, before I cut her off.

'Ok, I get it it! I think we can go in, now,' I groaned, reminding her that we had a workshop to attend, and not... whatever this was.

'Well, at least we technically don't have to kill ourselves now,' Allie stated, referencing her earlier suicide pact proposal. 'And I am totally using this hand tonight-' she announced jokingly (I hoped), and I could only shudder at the thought. It didn't help that she'd used the very same hand to pick her nose that morning.

'Shut up, please' I begged her, pushing open the glass door as we both made our way into the classroom. 

Did I really want to know this person?

● ● ●

'What's good, ladies and gentlethems... and Tyler... I'm Professor Lerry Lenford, and before you ask, no I am not one of Clark Kent's many love interests,' prattled a spry, wiry-haired man wearing an ill-fitting grey suit, with acid burns covering roughly 40% of his visible skin. He proceeded to fake-cough the names "Lois Lane..." "Lana Lang..." "Lori Lemaris..." "Lyla Lerrol..." "Lisa Lasalle..." and "Lex Luthor!"

'Anyways, you don't combine your DNA with your archnemesis unless you're secretly in love with them... wait, that's not- I will be your professor in this here Research in Chemistry and... Ethics - guess they had to add the "ethics" for legal reasons - workshop, so let's get to it!' he continued, his voice now somehow hoarser than it was before. Just who the hell was this man?

'They don't lemme do practicals anymore, so,' the old man reminisced, scratching the burns on the left side of his face. 'Here I am!' he announced, before getting a student to pass around some pre-printed sheets. 

'STEM lessons in ethics and safety,' he yawned, before clapping his hands together and grimacing slyly. 'But let's make it fun! I encourage you each to perform your own practical experiments at home and note the ethical implications before and after you get results... and, of course, your test subjects will be live dormmates, because I am really not fond of animal testing~' the professor continued ecstatically, as if making it up on the spot, as he curled his fingers towards him and checked his nails. 'Also, if they go really wrong, don't forget to scrunch up the results and burn them... after showing me~' he added with a smirk and a diabolical chuckle.

Great, our professor was some glorified parody of House, and he may as well have been telling us to break-and-enter a patient's residence to look for clues. 

'So, in short, he wants us to prank each other...' Alda whispered from the chair next to me, adopting a similar grimace to the professor's. Oh my fucking god, what have you done?

'Or you could just be BORING and guess the ethical considerations without living it~' the professor groaned mockingly, stretching out his hand to check his nails again.

'Also, it has to be after the workshop today. It's pretty obvious the Latina chick over there violated like seven ethical conventions with whatever hell she was putting the blonde through outside my class~' Lerry jested our way, and I could feel my ears begin to blister they were burning so hot, as Alda slammed her head on the table. 'Totally cheating, dude,' he said with mock disappointment before not-so-subtly throwing a thumbs-up and a wink Alda's way. Thankfully, from the silence that met his ramblings, he seemed to be the only one who had witnessed such a spectacle. 

'Ok, so for this workshop, I want you to plot! Plot like you never have before!' the professor declared, hands clutching at the air, and I noted most of the other students appeared frozen with fear. 'I mean, strongly consider the ethical considerations of your experiments and sketch up some templates for whatever scheme - experiment - pops into your head,' he corrected himself, suddenly acting stiffly professional as if it were a mere formality.

And with that, the workshop of horrors began.

● ● ●

At this point, we'd been "plotting" for maybe an hour now, and I could swear Alda was typing out every single one of my childhood weaknesses and fears; continuously glancing at me between frantic typing sessions.

'Yo, Indiana Jones, you still shit-scared of snakes?' she asked, peering over at me. I did not give her the satisfaction of a response. 

I was well within my rights to be absolutely fucking terrified of those creatures, and if Allie threw a bag of gummy snakes at me, I'd probably beat the shit out of her. That would be her fault, not mine.

'Ugh, I am so glad we're not dormmates,' I sighed, sinking back into my chair as I glanced Alda's way. She just looked back at me with a frown that read "we don't know that yet," and I knew she was right.

'Right... Honors students have our own residential block here, we most likely applied for residence at the earliest possible second, and we're both girls,' I mused, fingers on my lower lip, watching as Alda nodded solemnly at each point I made.

'Hey, how do you know I don't have my own apartment, huh?' Alda pouted, crossing her arms in mock resentment. 

'I've seen you in that dress before and it's been seven years, Allie,' I stated diagnostically, and she now seemed to actually be pouting. What was wrong with her?

'Don't worry, it makes you look less like Sadako from The Ring... although I don't think you should ever wear white,' I explained with a shudder, trying to tell her it looked good on her in the most roundabout way possible.

'Guess I'll wear the suit then,' she blurted out, and I realized even she seemed to regret that statement because she immediately clasped her hand over her mouth. 

The suit? What suit? Oh... the suit. Was this girl fucking proposing as her first unethical social experiment? 

I needed to get this lady a girlfriend, stat.

'Hey, don't ever take any of my impulse slips seriously, ok?' she growled through her hand.

'Fine, I'll wear the suit. I really couldn't see you in anything but a long-sleeved dress, anyways' I countered stubbornly, and with that, she punched my arm with a "don't encourage me" scowl on her face, and we both went back to plotting our respective "experiments." 

Ouch.

Did she really say so much shit on pure impulse alone? I mean, yeah, that explained a lot; or at least, I hoped it did.