Chapter Text
Your name is FEFERI PEIXES and you are going to have a very strongly-worded letter delivered to the so-called Captain of the Debate Club™. That letter is going to be stamped and notarised and, y'know, and stuff!
Okay, maybe that's a little harsh. You've run your fair share of high school clubs, enough to know that sometimes it's a little too easy to blame the leader any time something goes wrong. Let's say the second-in-command had been instructed to prepare art supplies and failed to remember. Maybe she had to tend to her sick dog. Poor, sweet, innocent Fluffy. Does she even have all four of her legs still? She probably suffered a tragic accident that demanded all of the right-hand-woman's attention. A car accident. No, wait, a plane accident.
Hm. Nope, this thought experiment isn't working, you're still just as frustrated at having to roam the school halls searching for any class with spare stationery. It's a school! Why is it so hard to find spare paper and scissors? Are your mother's tax dollars going straight down the toilet!?
(You're fairly certain your mother pays her taxes.)
You suppose you shouldn't complain too much. After all, you're the gullible fool that volunteered to fetch some supplies in the first place. In your defense, you did show up ten minutes late (but only because your meeting with Principal English ran late!!!). It was the least you could do. The thought of everyone holding your tardiness against you would have been far too dire a burden to bear otherwise.
After scouring class 6-K's cupboards and successfully finding a pot of gold, a tuft of unicorn hair and the Sasquatch's autograph (in other words: absolutely nothing), you drag your exhausted limbs to the first of the science classes in your school's B block. You don't even bother knocking at this point, it's lunch time. Nobody's been in 6-I, nobody's been in 6-J, nobody's been in 6-K, it's pretty safe to say that everyone's out to lunch.
God, you wish you could join your friends in the cafeteria. Today's breakfast (one apple) was perhaps a little lighter than your doctor would recommend. Shaking the thought of succulent grilled salmon from your mind, you open up the cabinet in the corner closest to the entrance and scan the shelves up and down. C'mon, something, anything! You'll take a tiny notebook and those weird curvy safety scissors at this point.
??????: hello, 911 cops police? i think we're being robbed.
FEFERI: !!!!!!!!!!!!
You are... admittedly not proud of the high-pitched squeal you let out as a deadpan voice snaps you out of your desperate scavenging. Thankfully you hadn't found anything yet, because you most certainly would have dropped it if you were.
FEFERI: I — uh — I didn't mean — I didn't think anyone was—!
??????: i was... i was kidding.
In a flustered whirlwind of panic, you spin around to discover a lone student seated at one of the benches from behind one of the school's laptops, holding his cellphone up to his ear. Backwards, you notice. You don't recognise him from any of your classes. The spiky hair and glasses are distinctive enough to confirm you've never seen him before.
FEFERI: Holy mackerel! You just about gave me a heart attack!
??????: i gathered as much.
??????: for what it's worth, you startled me too.
FEFERI: I didn't scream that loud, did I?
??????: i mean, a little, but i meant when you stormed in.
??????: usually people knock.
Great, the universe is laughing at you. You puff your cheeks as you shoot him a mild glare (to which he responds by looking back down at his computer screen), before turning back around to resume your earlier search. He does, however, earn a suspicious glance over your shoulder as you fire back:
FEFERI: Usually people aren't still in class when it's lunch period, dummy.
FEFERI: Not unless it's for a club activity.
FEFERI: And that requires, you know...
FEFERI: A club?
??????: this is a club.
Bullshit.
...Sorry. Bullship.
FEFERI: This is a club?
??????: thank you for repeating exactly what i just said, yes.
FEFERI: What, the Hide and Seek Club?
??????: nope.
FEFERI: The Camouflage Club?
??????: not quite.
FEFERI: The Shrink Ray Club.
??????: swing and a miss there, champ.
FEFERI: Mmmmmm. Alright, I give in. What club is this?
??????: robotics club.
Giving up on this cabinet (it's just filled with empty beakers and textbooks, unfortunately), you close the door and survey the lab in an attempt to discern what exactly makes this "Robotics Club." You notice an overwhelming lack of automatons, though his flat tone of voice does give one a run for its money.
That was maybe a little mean. You're just in a pretty crappy mood right now. Still, you give the guy a mental apology you doubt he cares about.
FEFERI: Where are the robots?
??????: work in progress.
FEFERI: And the rest of your club?
The supposed roboticist shrugs and hums that "I'unno" sound that's so difficult to convey through text alone. You squint in his direction. He doesn't seem to notice.
FEFERI: I don't think Robotics Club is real, I'm sorry to say. I think someone's tricked you. 8,(
??????: robotics club is real as shit, actually. realer than kraft mac and cheese.
FEFERI: Says who???
??????: says mr. zahhak.
Hm. This is his classroom, you suppose... Still, usually the teacher's supposed to be in the room to supervise club activities. Even if this club is legit, you smell fishy business.
The buzz of your phone in your pocket and the ensuing bubbly chime reminds you that you have other business to tend to, especially when you check your notifications and see the Debate Captain asking for a status update. Right. Supplies.
FEFERI: Weeeellllllll, since I have you here, mind if I ask you a question?
??????: you've already asked several.
FEFERI: Humour me.
??????: whatever.
FEFERI: Art supplies. Spare paper, scissors, stuff like that. There wouldn't happen to be any here, would there?
A beat of silence ensues. You're confident he's going to tell you to get lost. Take a hike, lady, or something along those lines.
??????: the teach keeps that stuff behind the whiteboard.
There's only one whiteboard in the room (and it's a massive sliding one, to boot), but he still sees it fit to cock his head in its direction. He's either very sweet, or thinks you're braindead. You have a funny feeling you know which of the two it is.
Sure enough, sliding one half of the whiteboard to the other end reveals, among other odds and ends, a whole smorgasbord of stationery. There's enough scrap paper here to feed a family of termites for the winter, thank the heavens!
FEFERI: Oh my god, you are a LIFESAVER! Thank you so much!
FEFERI: You have no idea how long I've been looking.
??????: it's a school. how hard is it to find spare paper?
FEFERI: That's what I said!
With all manner of paper, scissors, rulers and markers tucked under your arm, you slide the whiteboard back shut before realising you technically haven't asked for permission to swipe this stuff in the first place. Unsure, you turn to What's-His-Name for assurance.
??????: what, you want an invitation or something?
??????: who cares if a stapler goes missing. he won't even notice.
FEFERI: You're sure?
??????: every other teacher picks this room apart like vultures on a carcass and he hasn't thrown a hissy fit yet.
??????: if it matters that much to you, i solemnly swear complete and utter silence on the matter.
That eases your nerves somewhat. Even if it hadn't, the captain sends you another text, followed by several crying emojis. Jeez Louise, give her a second! She's talking with a boy.
FEFERI: Thanks a million, uh...?
??????: tuna fish casserole.
FEFERI: Your REAL name, please. I want to thank you properly!
??????: tuna for short.
Bluuhhh, what a dork. He's tentatively earned enough brownie points with you to save him from a serious scolding, but he isn't protected from you poking your tongue out at him in protest.
FEFERI: Well, thank you very much, "Tuna." 8P
FEFERI: I really do appreciate it.
??????: don't mention it.
He doesn't seem interested in further conversation, if the way his attention immediately turns back to the screen of his laptop is any indication. You'd give him an earful for being a grumpy-gills, but you should run, anyway.
FEFERI: See ya!
You're out of class 6-L in a flash, doing your best to strike a perfect balance between sensible power-walking and an outright sprint back to the rest of Debate Club to FINALLY get the preparations for the upcoming school festival underway. Your work is never finished.
You're freaking exhausted, but you'll push through. You always push through.