Changing schools your senior year sucks. Yeah, I know that’s pretty high on the ‘duh’ list of sentiments that need not be verbalized, but even so… feels good to say it now and again. For three years of my life, I struggled against my own insecurities and antisocial nature. Three long years and I’d actually managed to make a few friends I thought would last till graduation. Now they were all back in my hometown while I was halfway across the country… alone. Yes, everybody, break out your tiny violins and chop some onions, we’re here for pity-party time!

 

Not only did changing schools your senior year suck, but doing so while un-metamorphosed, well, that just bolstered the situation to DEFCON-five suckitude. What, they don’t have metamorphosis where you’re from? Count your lucky stars. Apparently some time ago some numbskull made a wish with a genie or some shit and got this whole country cursed. Now, whenever a person ‘becomes fully conscious of and in-tune with their true self’ they’d go through the process of metamorphosis. It was kind of like a deep sleep accompanied by the weirdest growth spurt possible. You pass out, stay that way for a few hours to a few days, and when you come to… let’s just say that’s where things got interesting. Some people got stronger, others faster, some became ridiculously smart. The entirety of the change was a complete net positive. To top it off, anyone who had gone through metamorphosis also gained some physical traits that made them distinct from us normal piddly humans. Animal ears, tails, fur, scales, feathers, horns, claws -- the exact nature and severity of the physical changes seemed to vary per person, but needless to say it was easy to tell who the haves and have nots of this new world order were.

 

So yeah, joining a new school as a soft, squishy, and worst of all, average human sucked shit. Oh, what’s that? Shouldn’t people who have become in-tune with themselves be zen-masters capable of handling their new powers in a responsible manner? Well, aren’t you adorable for thinking that. The change is triggered by an acceptance of the self, not the quality. If someone’s a piece of shit but totally cool with that, abra cadabra, one home-grown Maruchan instant mega-jackass. Case and point, the tall, demonic woman who’s been eyeing me from the second I entered the building is approaching me with a smile that can only mean imminent and unspeakable pain awaits me.

 

“Hey there fresh-meat, got anything for me?” The woman, whose impressive height I somehow underestimated from a distance as she’s easily two heads taller than me, unfurls a clawed hand in front of my face expectantly. Her scarlet skin is dotted by jet-black freckles that match her long straight hair perfectly. She has spined wings curled up behind her, and a spaded tail that dances around me while pointing at my eyes in a vaguely threatening manner. Honestly, if I weren’t being robbed right now, I’d probably think she’s gorgeous.

 

Usually, this would be the part where I dutifully empty my pockets and proceed with the rest of my day un-maimed. Path of least resistance and all that. But seeing as how today is the first of many days I’ll have to spend in this fresh hell, I want to at least pretend to not be such an easy mark. I grasp her hand with my own and shake it up and down. “All I’ve got is my most sincere well-wishes, a firm handshake, and a winning smile.” Nervously curling my mouth upwards, contrasting my panicking eyes, I wait to see if humor is the secret weapon I need to survive my days here.

 

With a chuckle, the woman grabs my shoulders and pins them to the lockers behind me, her spaded tail now poking at my windpipe. Huh, this better not awaken anything in me. “Aww, aren’t you just precious. A bit slow on the uptake, but you’re cute, so I’ll let it go. Now, you’ve got me feeling generous, so I’ll leave you with just enough money to get some lunch later. What do you say? We got a deal?” Oh, bless your benevolent and saintly heart… not.

 

What was that quote from Office Space again? The trick is to kick someone's ass the first day or become someone’s bitch. I doubt I’m good looking enough to attract a momma bear to protect me, so option one it is. Now the real question is, how do I get a leg up on someone bigger, faster, and stronger than me? In times of great personal strife, I like to think back to the wisdom of my good friend and personal savior… Bugs Bunny. Seeing as how my new adversary has gone through the trouble of lifting me up to her eye level, I employ a method of shock and awe so unthinkable it may just work. I grab the demon’s face and draw it close before planting a big kiss on her cheek. Almost instinctively, she recoils back and I give her the slickest eyebrow wiggle I can muster. Within a second she drops me in stunned disbelief. I believe that’s my cue to run like hell.

 

Wonderful, I’ve escaped from her dastardly grasp. Brava. Now on to phase two of this sterling plan which is… tbd. Honestly, I didn’t think I’d get this far. My own footsteps pound the floor as I scramble to gain whatever distance I possibly can. It isn’t long before I hear clawed toes tearing at the linoleum beneath us as a flustered and pissed off demoness charges at me with a speed and determination commonly found in predators going in for the kill. I’d say it’s been a good life but really, has it? Rounding a corner, I see a bright yellow wet floor sign up ahead. Will the gods of Warner Bros. grant this heathen a second miracle today? Fuck it, not like I’m burdened with an abundance of options here. Hopping over the slick tiles, I kick the sign out of sight, hoping my hot pursuer won’t get a glimpse of it. As if guided by some form of providence, I hear a panicked yelp before a loud crash echoes through the hall. Skidding to a halt, I turn around to see the demoness dazed and confused on the floor near the lockers. Well, I’ll be un-damned. I know I was joking about worshiping Looney Tunes before, but there might actually be some validity to this new religion I’ve fallen anvil-first into.

 

After a few seconds of recovery, the demon snaps back to reality and hisses at me. Her eyes literally catch fire as she screams, “Oh, you are so dead.” Shit. The woman hops onto her feet but immediately takes a knee with a whine. She tries once more, but collapses to the ground, holding her ankle while whimpering.

 

Alright, let’s review. This woman tried to rob me, pinned me to a locker and literally threatened to end my life. By all rights, her being injured should tickle me pink… but seeing someone on the ground like that doesn’t sit well with me. The rest of the students try their best to walk around the spectacle unfolding before them. They show zero interest in what’s happening and their procession takes a short detour around the demon and myself. Really? Nobody’s going to do anything about this? Seeing no way around it, I hop back into the lion’s den I’d narrowly escaped moments ago.

 

Foolishly walking back into striking distance, I approach the woman. “Hey, I’m sorry you got hurt. I didn’t mean for that to happen. Can you stand?”

“Does it look like I can stand!?” she roars, the flames around her eyes growing into one indistinct inferno. Point taken, dumb question, my bad. I take a peek at her foot and see that her ankle is already swelling up something fierce. Yeah, that’s going to take a while to clear up. Squatting down near her, I offer her my hand so I can help her up. It’s unceremoniously swatted away by her tail as both of her hands try to find some way to interact with her ankle that isn’t painful. “Don’t you dare offer me some pity bullshit. Leave me alone.”

 

Refusing to listen, as I often do, I take a knee in front of her. “I know you don’t need my help, but I’d like to offer it anyway. Think of it less as pity and more as contrition.” The demon glares at me, staring directly into my eyes as she takes strained breaths.

 

“Get away from me… NOW!” With that, one of her large red hands swipes my entire body away and across the width of the hallway. “I’ll have one of my friends help me… not you!” Her words are laced with venom and malice. There is nothing more to be said or done here, so I make my way to my first class.

 

***

 

Whoever invented math and numbers could go eat a dick… unless they were into that, then they could eat nothing. Calculus may as well be a foreign language course for how much of the material I’m actually comprehending. As class draws to a close, the feline instructor pulls me aside. “It’s Walter, right?” Unfortunately, she isn’t wrong. For the many many things my parents did right, they sure did drop the ball when it came to picking names. I mean, Walter… really? Why not dye my hair gray, put me in loose-fitting overalls and give me a banjo to play on the porch of my future retirement home already.

 

“Actually, Ms. Quinn, I usually just go by W.” I don’t, but I’m hoping to make that a thing. Maybe reinventing myself can be the silver lining of starting from scratch with a whole new cast of faces.

 

With a kind smile completely uncharacteristic of someone who teaches such a sadistic and evil class, Ms. Quinn takes my hand and shakes it. “Well, it’s very nice to meet you W. Now, about you spacing out in my class…” Ah, hello there “other shoe.” Nice of you to drop right on cue.

 

***

 

After receiving the most polite admonishment of my life, I mindlessly wander back to the stretch of hallway where I left my would-be assailant about an hour ago. Strangely enough, she’s still here. She’s hugging one of her knees to her chest while her injured leg sits at an awkward angle I suppose must be comfortable.

 

The woman looks zoned out until she catches sight of me and her face twists in disgust. Come on, lady, flattery will get you nowhere. Ignoring her obvious disdain, I sit next to her. “Leave me alone or I’ll rip you in half.” Oh, fun, back to death threats.

 

“Go for it, just make sure you save my good half for the obituary photo, I wouldn’t want to look fat in the newspaper.” She snorts a chuckle at the thought of my mutilated corpse. Guess macabre humor is a common language for us. “I think I’ll hang out here until you let me help you to the nurse’s office.”

 

“You’ll be waiting a long ass time.”

“Good, I hate history class. Why should I care how the sausage was made? I'd rather just enjoy the delicious present.” A heavy silence settles on the hallway and the only noises to be heard are the monotone buzz of the fluorescent lights above and the distant voices of teachers trying to get students to give a damn. The demoness shifts and takes in a sharp breath. “Just for the record, I really am sorry.”

 

More silence as the period slowly ticks away. The demoness throws back her head and groans. “Just leave already, I’m tired of smelling you.”

 

On the sly, I do the cursory pit sniff. I don’t smell the least bit offensive; hell, I’d say I smell pretty damn pleasant, as a matter of fact. “Look, I get that I’m at the top of your shit list right now; you’re pretty far up on mine too, but you’re hurt and for some reason nobody around here seems to be in the Good Samaritan spirit. Can you just tell me where to find one of your friends so I can have them help you out?”

 

A large red fist hits the lockers with a crash, peeling more paint from their already decrepit surface. “Not gonna happen.” And so the game continues.

 

***

 

The school bell’s shrill tone echoes through the halls as the classroom doors open, flooding the hallway with an ocean of students. Most pass by the demon and me without a thought, but I see at least one pair of reptilian eyes glaring at us from the crowd. Creepy. The students mostly herd themselves into the cafeteria for lunch while a few others claim their own patches of hallway to eat and socialize. Meanwhile, my unwilling neighbor and I stay put where we are. “Hey, considering you’ll probably see me as your nemesis for the rest of time, mind telling me your name? I’m Walter, but all my friends just call me W.” That’s right, friend or foe, I’m hoping to get as many people as possible onto the W train.

 

“Fuck off.”

 

“Nice to meet you, Fuck Off; interesting name by the way. Is it ethnic?” Two red claws cover FO’s face and she screams.

 

“My name is Haley, you insufferable shit.” Oh, Haley, that makes a lot more sense.

 

I extend my hand to Haley with a smile. “Well, I suppose the sentiment isn’t mutual, but it’s nice to meet you, Haley.” Rolling her eyes, Haley shakes my hand.

 

“So what next, do we braid each other's hair and sing kumbaya? What’s your endgame here? I’m not backing down.” What a coincidence, neither am I. As if aware of the time of day, Haley’s stomach lets out a low growl. “Shit. You heard nothing.”

 

“Hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil it’s what I always say.” Not really, but she seems serious about this. “Anyway, I’m getting a bit hungry, not sure if you are too. Now, since you’re still not willing to let me help you to the nurse’s office, the least you can let me do for you is bring you your lunch.” Another low growl escapes from Haley, this time from her throat. “I mean, if you tell me what you want and give me some cash, I can bring it back for you.”

 

“I. AM. NOT. HUNGRY.” As if to punctuate that already well-punctuated sentiment, Haley’s eyes caught fire… again. Got it, not hungry, moving on.

 

“Alright, alright. I’ll give you a break from me and get some lunch. I’ll be back in a bit.”

 

“Take your time… or better yet, stay gone.” You know, sometimes I feel like I’m not wanted around here… it’s the subtle hints, y’know.