Sky's P OV
I woke up to the shrill beep beep beep of my alarm, which somehow sounded more like a foghorn than anything else. My voice, if I dared to answer it, would croak out like a frog on its deathbed. Not that it mattered—today was a school day, and Section A didn't care if I sounded like a dying amphibian.
Sliding out of my ridiculously expensive but completely cluttered bed, I tripped over my own slippers, which were half-buried under a pile of clothes I had sworn yesterday I'd put away. Spoiler: I didn't. My morning routine could generously be described as unhygienic chaos. Toothpaste on the mirror, hair sticking in ten different directions like it was auditioning for a horror movie, and my bathrobe smelling faintly of yesterday's lunch. Classy.
I croaked my own reflection a greeting. "Morning, you gorgeous disaster." My reflection blinked back with all the sympathy of a tax auditor. Yeah… I was ugly today. Even uglier than yesterday. And that's saying something.
Breakfast was a battle. I fumbled with a fancy French toaster that apparently required a PhD to operate. Somehow, I managed to burn one slice while leaving the other raw. I shrugged. That's fine. Survival of the hungriest.
And then there was Blossom. My cousin/sister/tomboy chaos tornado, fully decked in black clothes, eyebrow piercing, three ear piercings on one ear, lip piercing, and a wolfcut so sharp it could probably cut through steel. She lounged on the couch like she owned the place—which, honestly, she basically did.
"Finally decided to show your face?" she drawled, not even looking up from her phone.
I threw a burnt toast at her. She caught it midair with one hand and muttered, "Try harder, Sky. You're making me look bad with your morning horror show."
I groaned. "I am beautiful chaos, thank you very much."
"Beautiful chaos? More like tragic frog," she replied, smirking.
Shut up. I might be a frog-voiced, ugly mess, but at least I had style. I threw on my school uniform, messy bun, and grabbed my backpack. The mirror reflected a version of me that looked like a raccoon had wrestled with a tornado. Perfect. Section A would feel right at home with this.
Blossom leaned against the doorframe. "Race you to the car?"
I rolled my eyes. "You're on."
And just like that, the morning ended with me sprinting through my mansion—barefoot, hair flying, toast crumbs in my hair—while Blossom laughed like a maniac. If anyone saw us, they'd probably call child services. Or the fashion police.
School awaited, chaos awaited, Section A awaited… and somehow, I knew my frog voice, messy hair, and general tragicness would survive it all.
The morning had been a disaster, as usual. I stumbled out of my room, hair sticking out at weird angles, frog-like croak already making an appearance when I tried to clear my throat. Breakfast had been a burnt affair involving toast that could double as a brick and cereal that looked suspiciously like it was alive.
Blossom—my cousin, my partner-in-chaos, and full-time black magic obsessed bit©h—was already geared up in her signature tomboy look. Black clothes, wolfcut short hair, eyebrow and lip piercings, and three ear piercings on one ear. Honestly, she looked like she could hex the life out of anyone who dared touch her sandwich.
"Sky, hurry up," she said, slinging a backpack that looked like it had seen combat. "I'm leaving you like thirty minutes behind, so don't cry when you're late."
I squinted. Thirty minutes? She had the audacity to walk me to school, then abandon me halfway.
"Thirty minutes? Black magic obsessed bit©h, are you trying to curse me into missing math?" I muttered, stomping down the driveway.
Blossom smirked, one eyebrow raised. "If you get cursed, just thank me later. Adds spice to life."
I glared at her as she turned on her heel and stomped off, probably to hex someone's Wi-Fi. Meanwhile, I had to trek the rest of the way to school on foot.
The streets were just as alive as my stomach—hungry, chaotic, and slightly judgmental. Every step made me think: Why did I drink that suspicious instant coffee? Why did I forget breakfast? Why does Blossom exist?
I passed some kids walking their dogs, couples holding hands, and a pigeon giving me a look like you smell like chaos, lady.
"Thanks a lot, Blossom," I muttered, kicking a small pebble. "Black magic obsessed bit©h. That's your official nickname in my head now. May your piercings tingle whenever you cast a bad spell."
My stomach growled in agreement. Hungry… very hungry… maybe a discarded snack on the street would save me. Maybe not. Survival first, dignity optional.
By the time I reached the school gates, I was sweating, annoyed, and ready to roast the author for making me walk thirty minutes while my cousin probably levitated there with a smug grin.
Black magic obsessed bit©h, I will get you back someday. Just wait, Blossom. Wait.
We arrived at Section A, me and Blossom looking like we'd just survived a tornado-themed breakfast apocalypse. The smell of burnt toast, shampoo, and general chaos clung to me like a warning sign.
The classroom was, of course, in full disaster mode. Thirty-six brown chairs leaned like they were drunk, some missing legs, some duct-taped hopelessly. The fan overhead squeaked like it had a personal vendetta against anyone daring to breathe.
"Roll call!" Mr. Salvador bellowed, already looking ten years older than he should. He squinted at his sheet of paper, fumbling with a pen like it personally hated him.
Perfect. Let the chaos commence.
Sky's Internal Monologue: Brace yourself, stomach. You're hungry, I'm hungry… maybe the wobbly chair is edible. Or the duct tape. Either way, survival first.
"Roll No. 1 – William Skiez Venegas."
Skiez lazily raised a hand, giving me that half-smile that made me want to punch him and kiss him at the same time.
Goddammit. Focus, Sky. He's probably thinking about something stupid… like me. Ugh.
"Present," he said calmly.
Of course he's calm. He's basically a walking refrigerator of annoyance.
"Roll No. 2 – Wind Axie Watson."
Wind slouched in his chair, arms crossed like a brooding angel of chaos. He gave a half nod.
Typical. Cool, grumpy, and making everyone else seem like amateurs at breathing.
I tried not to stare. Failed.
"Roll No. 3 – Michelle 'Mica' Rivera."
Mica rolled her eyes dramatically. "Here."
Already judging my breakfast choices. Perfect.
"Roll No. 4 – Perry Delgado."
"Present, your majesty," Perry added, probably trying to charm everyone.
One day his ego will need its own zip code.
"Roll No. 5 – Charlie Nick Joe Santos."
Charlie shrugged. "Here."
Cool. Neutral. Safe. Thank you, Charlie. You're my hero today.
"Roll No. 6 – Kikawa Yatsmura"
Kika gave her signature childish grin. "Here."
Oh no. That grin. Chaos incoming. Perfect.
"Roll No. 7 – Bri Blossom Butterfly Flores—BB."
BB crossed her arms. "Here. And if anyone says another word about my name, I swear I will bite them."
Yup. Chaos incarnate. Totally normal. Good, good.
"Roll No. 8 – Jasper Moreno."
Jasper gave a lazy wave.
Cool. Neutral. Safe-ish. I approve.
"Roll No. 9 – Honey Horniness Rayder."
What did I just hear? Oh no. Did the teacher actually write this down?
Honey smirked. "Here. And yes, it's on purpose."
Figures.
"Roll No. 10 – Nav Mendoza."
Nav gave a small nod.
Quiet, calculating… perfect for later chaos planning.
"Roll No. 11 – Leaf Mendoza."
Leaf twirled a strand of hair.
Oh yes, perfect, the dramatic sibling duo. Section A, meet your doom.
By the time Mr. Salvador got to Roll No. 36, he looked like a zombie repeatedly stabbed by paper cuts.
And me? Internally roasting everything—my frog-like voice, the burnt toast, the disaster of a classroom, the names, the hair, the chaos.
And yes… I'm hungry. Very hungry. Maybe the duct tape has protein. Or maybe I just bite the corner of the desk. Survival of the hungriest